Hunter Clarington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blowmywhistle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
slidingmoments2013-01-04 11:23 pm
blowmywhistle) wrote in slidingmoments2013-01-04 11:23 pm
"I like me so much better when you're naked."
Who: Hunter Clarington, Santana Lopez and (eventually) Sebastian Smyth
What: That awkward moment when... dick
Where: Lopez-Smyth apartment
When: About a week after Santana and Tina's hook up
Hunter had been in Miami for four weeks now, and he still couldn't decide whether he liked it or not. It was a seachange, and yes, there was a sea there with a beach, and heat, and seagulls that shat on things. He had an apartment within walking distance of the beach, but that was something he couldn't utilise yet. He still had more work to do before leisurely walks on the beach could be on his agenda. He had just reached the six month anniversary of his physical treatment following the bad turn of events he had faced in Afghanistan. His first month as a qualified Sergeant and before the calendar had even turned pages, he was in the midst of a battle with the enemy forces where he had to shoot a man dead or be killed himself. It had affected him more than he thought possible... especially when he saved a guy in his troop from death by getting shot through the back into the hip himself during the same battle, only to have the same soldier blown up by a landmine two days later. It left Hunter without the use of his leg and he thought he would be crippled for life. He was given an honourable medical discharge from the forces, but left in a wheelchair and with psychological post-traumatic stress disorder. That was over six months ago now, and it had been a fantastic physical therapist, just newly qualified at the time, by the name of Santana Lopez who had helped him out of the wheelchair and able to walk short distances with the use of a stick now. But it was still very much a work in progress, though Hunter's psychological treatment had began to wane and he fell into a depression, which began to affect his physical development too.
It was when his therapist suggested a move or a change of scenery with a fresh start away from the drab post-service world he had gotten himself into in Washington. He was bemoaning the suggestion to his physical therapist one day when he was being really uncooperative even with her, and it was Santana who suggested Miami for a seachange. She had been considering moving there to start her own business away from the large clinic she had trained with because she had friends there, and suggested that if he made that his new location, she could continue his treatment and it wouldn't be a complete new everything for him. He thought about it for all of a week before he was selling his awful boring bachelor pad he had shoved himself into during his recuperation when he didn't want to go home to Colorado Springs, and with his mother's help, found a bright, airy and sunny beachside apartment that he signed for without even thinking about it. He had been here a month now, and Santana had continued his treatment as promised, though she seemed to tune into his still-low mood during their latest session and invited him back her own new place for a coffee.
He settled at the kitchen table, rubbing at his hip a little when he sat because it was sore from the session and gave her a grateful smile when she brought him his large mug of coffee with chocolate cake. "Chocolate? Better than chicken soup for the soul or something?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.
What: That awkward moment when... dick
Where: Lopez-Smyth apartment
When: About a week after Santana and Tina's hook up
Hunter had been in Miami for four weeks now, and he still couldn't decide whether he liked it or not. It was a seachange, and yes, there was a sea there with a beach, and heat, and seagulls that shat on things. He had an apartment within walking distance of the beach, but that was something he couldn't utilise yet. He still had more work to do before leisurely walks on the beach could be on his agenda. He had just reached the six month anniversary of his physical treatment following the bad turn of events he had faced in Afghanistan. His first month as a qualified Sergeant and before the calendar had even turned pages, he was in the midst of a battle with the enemy forces where he had to shoot a man dead or be killed himself. It had affected him more than he thought possible... especially when he saved a guy in his troop from death by getting shot through the back into the hip himself during the same battle, only to have the same soldier blown up by a landmine two days later. It left Hunter without the use of his leg and he thought he would be crippled for life. He was given an honourable medical discharge from the forces, but left in a wheelchair and with psychological post-traumatic stress disorder. That was over six months ago now, and it had been a fantastic physical therapist, just newly qualified at the time, by the name of Santana Lopez who had helped him out of the wheelchair and able to walk short distances with the use of a stick now. But it was still very much a work in progress, though Hunter's psychological treatment had began to wane and he fell into a depression, which began to affect his physical development too.
It was when his therapist suggested a move or a change of scenery with a fresh start away from the drab post-service world he had gotten himself into in Washington. He was bemoaning the suggestion to his physical therapist one day when he was being really uncooperative even with her, and it was Santana who suggested Miami for a seachange. She had been considering moving there to start her own business away from the large clinic she had trained with because she had friends there, and suggested that if he made that his new location, she could continue his treatment and it wouldn't be a complete new everything for him. He thought about it for all of a week before he was selling his awful boring bachelor pad he had shoved himself into during his recuperation when he didn't want to go home to Colorado Springs, and with his mother's help, found a bright, airy and sunny beachside apartment that he signed for without even thinking about it. He had been here a month now, and Santana had continued his treatment as promised, though she seemed to tune into his still-low mood during their latest session and invited him back her own new place for a coffee.
He settled at the kitchen table, rubbing at his hip a little when he sat because it was sore from the session and gave her a grateful smile when she brought him his large mug of coffee with chocolate cake. "Chocolate? Better than chicken soup for the soul or something?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.
no subject
"Is that really what you want to know, or are you just trying to lead me into more uncharted territories of conversation here?" he asked. The thing about Hunter's sexuality was that he never particular closeted himself or hit it, but he had been taught to be very discreet with it, especially as he finished military school and enlisted. That was when he stopped putting any real importance in having a personal life and put everything into being a fine soldier, climbing the ranks steadily like his father had. At least, until he was injured to the point he wouldn't be able to fight anymore. That was what left him at a total loss with his life, and without anything else to focus on, it did become a lonely existence. Only, this was the first time in a long time it had almost literally been shoved in his face. He actually couldn't put a time on the last time he had sex because he just couldn't remember. He hadn't while he had been deployed, and when he was sent home injured, he was in too much pain to manage anything physical anyway. But now he had made progress, and there had actually been a dick waving in his face, it was suddenly very much at the forefront of his mind and Santana was onto him. "Let's just say, I'm not a lesbian," he joked with a smirk.
no subject
"Hey, I'm already way over patient/therapist levels of closeness... Professional lines have been crossed all over, but it's kind of hard not to cross them when your roommate struts his sexy gay ass into the kitchen in the nude right in front of your favorite patient. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to. We've just got ourselves a bit of an irregular situation on our hands, that's all." She shook her head with a fond roll of her eyes. "But seriously... that's just Seb. I think he spends more of his life in varying stages of undress than he does in clothes. You get used to him, though." She was quiet then, waiting on Hunter's answer, and when it came, she couldn't help arching an eyebrow with a little snicker of amusement. "Well, honey, even if you were, you wouldn't be my type," she teased lightly. "Not enough tits for me. No offense. What you do have going for you clearly got my roomie's motor running, so, hey. He may be fond of sleeping around, but the bitch is still choosy. He only hits on hotties, so consider it a compliment." She moved quickly to dispose of the soaked napkins, pour Hunter's coffee out, and come back with a fresh cup and a wink. "You're welcome to try again with the Bailey's... Pretty sure Seb's hung it up for another few hours."
no subject
"Luckily for me, it's not my obligation to get used to him. He lives with you, not me." Then the joke that he wouldn't be her type. She didn't mean it as an extra blow, but that was sort of how he took it. Talk about a coffee date really not doing his ego any good. Now he could feel himself getting on the defence, like he had to somehow defend the fact he wasn't getting laid every day or didn't have tits. "Did you really need to add that little disclaimer? Pretty sure you being a lesbian and me knowing that was enough to establish I'm not your type. I'm pretty sure being mid-twenties and using a fucking walking stick puts me well out of the realms of a lot of people's 'type' but yay for you and cock-at-the-ready for having it on tap whenever you want it. He may have hit on me, but he hardly knows the full story, does he? Guys like him drop dudes like me like a fucking hot potato because they hate fucking baggage... and you know it."