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Disclaimer time once again!   Seventieth verse same as the 
first . .everybody *sing*:

I don't own these characters, (chorus) Paramount does!
I don't own this venue, (chorus) Paramount does!
I am making no money off of this, (chorus) Paramount does 
not either!

This story will eventually involve sex between two men, aka: 
slash.  If that is *not* your cup of tea, sweet as it is, then 
don't read it!  (simple, ain't it??) Feedback is *very* much 
appreciated, and always answered.  Flames will be passed 
around to friends and chuckled over.  :)

Eighteenth story in the Stage Direction series.  Sequel to 
'Ssst', 'Growl', 'Chuckle', 'Sob', 'Grin', 'Sigh', 'Smile', 'Yawn', 
'Whisper', 'Groan', 'Hover', 'Waffle', 'Comfort', 'Fidget', 
'Grimace', and 'Glare'.

'Shrug' by Amirin <groh@iquest.net>


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<sigh>

Oh, hell, not *another* meal. 

"Neelix, if I eat anymore, I'll explode.  Trust me, it won't be 
pretty."

<chuckle>  "All right, Tom.  If you're sure . . ."

<hurriedly>  "I'm sure.  Quite sure.  *More* than sure. 
Honest."

<laugh>  "Very well, then."  <wink>  <nudge>  "You're off the 
hook." 

<heartfelt>  "Thank the gods."

<shared laughter>

I love the sound of Neelix's laughter.  Just as warm and 
friendly as the rest of him. 

<quiet smile>  "I didn't mean to frighten you, Neelix.  I just 
didn't realize."

<quick nod>  "I know, Tom."  <mock glare>  "But it had 
better not happen again."

"It won't.  I promise."

Neelix is starting his usual fussing around my quarters, 
putting things away, clearing the dishes from three lunches.

<grin>

He steered me into bed as soon as we got in here, put the 
pillows behind my back, covered me up, shushed my 
protests that I could eat at the table, replicated me my first 
lunch, and starting feeding me.  Literally, until I took the fork 
away from him.  

<smile>

He takes such good care of me. God knows, I need all the 
help I can get.

<silent snort>

Damn, the look on his face when we beamed into Sickbay. 
Sheer terror.  

<sorrowful sigh>

Shit, sometimes, I just don't *think*, ya know?  I should've 
realized that not eating for an entire day wouldn't be a real 
great idea after emerging from a coma, but it just didn't 
register in that black hole I call a brain.  How could I have 
been so *stupid*??  How could I have scared him so badly?

<quietly>  "Let it go, Tom."

<startled look>  "What?"

<sigh>  <sit>  <rustle>  <softly>  "I know that look."

<cautious puzzlement>  "What look?"

<rub hand gently>  "The one that tells me you're being 
overly harsh with yourself for something.  There's no need."

<groan>  "Oh, Neelix . . ."

"Now, Tom.  I know you didn't do it on purpose.  I know that. 
You wouldn't do that, you're a smart man . . ."

<interrupt>  "I feel like an idiot."

<snort>  "Well, you're not.  And I know it won't happen 
again, because I'll be keeping an eye on you from now on 
and I won't *let* it.  Got that?"

<grin>  "Got it.  Loud and clear."

<satisfied nod>  "Good.  Now . . . how are you feeling?"

"Better.  *Much*.  Really."

<golden eyes narrow thoughtfully>  "And how much *are* 
you feeling?"

<snort>  <sigh>  "Not a whole lot.  I feel stiff, but I'm not 
feeling any pain.  Not really.  Of course, that doesn't mean a 
whole lot, now, does it?  I could be in agony and not know it. 
Which is how I'd prefer it, actually, don't get me wrong."

<reluctant chuckle>  "I know I shouldn't laugh, but I can't 
help it."

"Yeah.  Humor makes a lot of things easier.  You know?"

<rub hand gently>  "Yes, I know.

<pause>  <sigh>  "That feels nice."

<circle palm with gentle fingers>  "What, this?"

<slow nod>  "Yeah."

<frown> "You're sure it doesn't hurt? At all?"

<murmur> "Nope.  Not a bit.  Just feels . . . nice.  I guess."

<uncertain nod>  "Good.  I wouldn't want to hurt you, Tom. 
Ever."

"Neelix, you couldn't if you *had* to.  You don't know *how* 
to hurt people."  <tired sigh>  "A fact for which I'm extremely 
grateful."

<sympathetic grin>  "You've been hurt enough for a 
lifetime." 

<snort>  "*Several* lifetimes."  

<pause>  

"How's your back, Tom?"

<shrug>  <wince>  "Okay.  I think . . ."

<steely glare>  <quietly>  "You say that like you actually 
expect me to believe it.  Like I can't tell you're in pain."

<resigned sigh>  "It's a little sore.  Not bad, or anything. 
Just . . . annoying."

"Which probably means it hurts like hell. But, you can't feel 
it."

<sigh>  <shrug>  <wince>  "Maybe."

"Now, there's no maybe about it."  <pause>  "Come on.  Roll 
over."

"What?  Why?"

"I want to see how bad it is.  The Doctor gave me some 
muscle relaxants for you, in addition to the pain killers.  I 
don't want to medicate you any more than I have to; he 
cautioned me at length about that.  Now, roll over."

<shrug>  <groan>  "Okay, okay.  Rolling over.  *Ow*."

<scolding>  "Easy does it, now.  Careful . . ."  <knead 
shoulders>

<groan>

"Try to relax, Tom.  And breathe.  All right?"  <deeper 
kneading>

"Um hmm." 

<wry grin>  "I'll take that as a 'yes'."  <rub back>

<snort>  <mumble> "Yes." 

<chuckle>  "Just relax."  <harder rubbing>

<pause>

<incoherent murmur> 

"That's it.  Oh, that's much better.  Hmm, not as bad as I 
feared. Goodness, that's quite a relief, now, isn't it?" 

<gentle kneading>

<silence>

<quietly>  "Tom?"  <pause>

<soft snore>

<smile>  "Well, now.  Imagine that . . ."


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