Midnighter and Harley, Friday afternoon
Oct. 17th, 2014 06:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainHarley tries and fails to hide an injury from Midnighter; Mid learns a bit more about his mind. Another successful training session.
Harley was running through the hallways, dodging around other students and giggling whenever she startled someone.
Which was pretty much the norm for her, except today she was going with purpose - she was late! And Midnighter wouldn't like that.
Today was also different because her bouncy motions were just a little off-kilter. She'd been a little lazy while training and had landed bad, tweaking her ankle. Nothing she hadn't done before, but...
Didn't matter. Late! She burst into the gym, letting the door bang loudly open to announce her, and made a conscious effort to hide the injury. Mid would already be angry she was late, no point giving him something else to be mad about. She launched into a series of handsprings that landed her right in front of him and threw a sloppy salute.
"Hi Mid-man! Reporting for duty!"
Between the nickname-calling (he'd quit trying to stop her from doing that; nothing worked) and her lateness, Midnighter did not in fact need any other reason to be mad at her. But as usual, his brain analyzed everything about her moves until she came to a halt in front of him.
It was a testimony to his self-control that he didn't grab for her when she headed his way in that manner.
But, more to the point. "What did you do to your ankle?"
"Um... nothing?" ...it was worth a shot. She blinked up at him innocently for added effect.
"What did I say about you lying to me?" Midnighter pointed out, eyebrows raising expectantly.
"Okay, okay - I landed on it funny and twisted it," Harley admitted, shifting her weight off her damaged right foot. "But it's nothing! I've had way worse. I can wrap it up and it'll be fine!" For all that she was still terrified of Midnighter, she didn't want these training sessions to stop.
"Why isn't it wrapped up already?" Midnighter asked, clearly annoyed that she would be going about with an unwrapped twisted ankle - even if it was just a minor twist, she was right in that.
"Um..." The answer was because it didn't hurt that bad (she had a really high pain tolerance) and she just hadn't stopped and thought to do it until now. But that didn't seem like the kind of answer he'd want to hear.
After a moment's thought, though, she realized she really didn't have a better answer and pouted. "It's fine, I barely notice..."
...but all the same, she dropped unceremoniously to the mat and pulled an Ace bandage out of her Pocket.
Midnighter watched her go about it, frowning as his brain came up with helpful data. He hadn't expected that. "No, a little looser here, but tighter there," he told her, crouching down beside her and taking over with the bandage, because yeah, he was going to trust himself on this.
Harley blinked in open surprise, but had no problem letting him take over. Back home, her dad would've done this, and it always seemed to work better when someone else did it. "Thanks!" she said as he finished up, rolling her ankle experimentally. "Where'dja learn that?"
"Nowhere," Midnighter replied, although fuck knew. Maybe he'd known first aid, before? Watch him care. "It makes sense, for maximum efficiency."
"Right, efficiency," Harley replied, like she had any idea what he was talking about, adding a nod to be convincing.
"Come on, let's see how you do when you have to favor the one leg," Midnighter stated as he stood back up. "I see you do anything that hurts your ankle, we're stopping for the day."
"Yessir, Mid-man!" Harley rolled backwards, pushing into a handstand before kicking down to a defensive stance, tucking her injured foot behind her to protect it.
"Watch out," Midnighter warned her, then went on the offensive.
****
By the end of the session, Harley was flopped flat on her back, exhausted and aching. As usual.
Tilting her head back, she looked up at Midnighter, who was standing behind her, looking exactly like he had at the beginning of the session - except his face was wet. Harley held up the offending squirt gun with a grin. "I'm getting better, right?"
...sure, she'd only gotten him because he'd seen the squirt gun coming and knew it wasn't a threat, and it had gotten her thrown exactly here on the floor... but still! She was pretty sure she was improving!
Midnighter used the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the water off his face, his expression remaining impassive as he did so. "You are improving," he confirmed evenly. "But you're still holding back on your hits, and you need to learn subtlety."
"Whadda ya mean?" she inquired from the floor. If she got up again, he might want to demonstrate, after all...
"You telegraph your moves, even for someone that isn't me," Midnighter replied, assuming that she was asking about the last part of his assessment, or she would have specified. "We'll work on that, next time."
Of course they would... "But I can't hit hard AND be subtle," she complained arms flopping limply with frustration. "'m not strong enough!"
"You're stronger than you're hitting right now," Midnighter replied, no-nonsense about it. "And not telegraphing your moves isn't about strength. It's about self-control."
Harley bit her lip and pondered this. "Yeah, I don't think I'm very good at that," she decided a moment later. She used to be-- but things were really, really different now.
"That's why we'll be working on it," Midnighter confirmed.
Harley let out a long-suffering sigh, and almost wish she hadn't - ooph, her whole body hurt. Which also felt good, she hadn't ever trained this hard for anything but gymnastics. She looked up at him curiously. "Do you ever have to work on things?"
"I've been working on things since I got here," Midnighter assured her. "And I haven't stopped."
Pushing herself up to sitting (so she didn't have to crane her neck funny anymore), she blinked up at him. "What kinda things?"
"Every kinda thing," Midnighter replied. "But mostly - self-control." He only told her so that she would know he knew what he was asking of her.
"Right, so you don't kill me on sight or somethin'," she agreed, realizing that was kind of obvious. After all, that was what made him so scary. She offered him a sheepish grin. "Uh, thanks for that."
"See you in two days," Midnighter gruffly replied. "And take care of your ankle."
Well clearly he was done putting up with her for today. Harley threw another salute (with the squirt gun). "Okay!"
She kept upright until he made it out the door, then immediately let herself flop back on the mat with a little groan. Too tired to fish out her water bottle, she started absently squirting water into her mouth from the water pistol. She would go ice her ankle, she knew she would - when Midnighter told her to do things, she did them - but for the moment, the only thing she wanted to do was lay here and play dead. Ugh, she'd definitely still be sore at their next session - and Midnighter never even broke a sweat!
Harley was running through the hallways, dodging around other students and giggling whenever she startled someone.
Which was pretty much the norm for her, except today she was going with purpose - she was late! And Midnighter wouldn't like that.
Today was also different because her bouncy motions were just a little off-kilter. She'd been a little lazy while training and had landed bad, tweaking her ankle. Nothing she hadn't done before, but...
Didn't matter. Late! She burst into the gym, letting the door bang loudly open to announce her, and made a conscious effort to hide the injury. Mid would already be angry she was late, no point giving him something else to be mad about. She launched into a series of handsprings that landed her right in front of him and threw a sloppy salute.
"Hi Mid-man! Reporting for duty!"
Between the nickname-calling (he'd quit trying to stop her from doing that; nothing worked) and her lateness, Midnighter did not in fact need any other reason to be mad at her. But as usual, his brain analyzed everything about her moves until she came to a halt in front of him.
It was a testimony to his self-control that he didn't grab for her when she headed his way in that manner.
But, more to the point. "What did you do to your ankle?"
"Um... nothing?" ...it was worth a shot. She blinked up at him innocently for added effect.
"What did I say about you lying to me?" Midnighter pointed out, eyebrows raising expectantly.
"Okay, okay - I landed on it funny and twisted it," Harley admitted, shifting her weight off her damaged right foot. "But it's nothing! I've had way worse. I can wrap it up and it'll be fine!" For all that she was still terrified of Midnighter, she didn't want these training sessions to stop.
"Why isn't it wrapped up already?" Midnighter asked, clearly annoyed that she would be going about with an unwrapped twisted ankle - even if it was just a minor twist, she was right in that.
"Um..." The answer was because it didn't hurt that bad (she had a really high pain tolerance) and she just hadn't stopped and thought to do it until now. But that didn't seem like the kind of answer he'd want to hear.
After a moment's thought, though, she realized she really didn't have a better answer and pouted. "It's fine, I barely notice..."
...but all the same, she dropped unceremoniously to the mat and pulled an Ace bandage out of her Pocket.
Midnighter watched her go about it, frowning as his brain came up with helpful data. He hadn't expected that. "No, a little looser here, but tighter there," he told her, crouching down beside her and taking over with the bandage, because yeah, he was going to trust himself on this.
Harley blinked in open surprise, but had no problem letting him take over. Back home, her dad would've done this, and it always seemed to work better when someone else did it. "Thanks!" she said as he finished up, rolling her ankle experimentally. "Where'dja learn that?"
"Nowhere," Midnighter replied, although fuck knew. Maybe he'd known first aid, before? Watch him care. "It makes sense, for maximum efficiency."
"Right, efficiency," Harley replied, like she had any idea what he was talking about, adding a nod to be convincing.
"Come on, let's see how you do when you have to favor the one leg," Midnighter stated as he stood back up. "I see you do anything that hurts your ankle, we're stopping for the day."
"Yessir, Mid-man!" Harley rolled backwards, pushing into a handstand before kicking down to a defensive stance, tucking her injured foot behind her to protect it.
"Watch out," Midnighter warned her, then went on the offensive.
****
By the end of the session, Harley was flopped flat on her back, exhausted and aching. As usual.
Tilting her head back, she looked up at Midnighter, who was standing behind her, looking exactly like he had at the beginning of the session - except his face was wet. Harley held up the offending squirt gun with a grin. "I'm getting better, right?"
...sure, she'd only gotten him because he'd seen the squirt gun coming and knew it wasn't a threat, and it had gotten her thrown exactly here on the floor... but still! She was pretty sure she was improving!
Midnighter used the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the water off his face, his expression remaining impassive as he did so. "You are improving," he confirmed evenly. "But you're still holding back on your hits, and you need to learn subtlety."
"Whadda ya mean?" she inquired from the floor. If she got up again, he might want to demonstrate, after all...
"You telegraph your moves, even for someone that isn't me," Midnighter replied, assuming that she was asking about the last part of his assessment, or she would have specified. "We'll work on that, next time."
Of course they would... "But I can't hit hard AND be subtle," she complained arms flopping limply with frustration. "'m not strong enough!"
"You're stronger than you're hitting right now," Midnighter replied, no-nonsense about it. "And not telegraphing your moves isn't about strength. It's about self-control."
Harley bit her lip and pondered this. "Yeah, I don't think I'm very good at that," she decided a moment later. She used to be-- but things were really, really different now.
"That's why we'll be working on it," Midnighter confirmed.
Harley let out a long-suffering sigh, and almost wish she hadn't - ooph, her whole body hurt. Which also felt good, she hadn't ever trained this hard for anything but gymnastics. She looked up at him curiously. "Do you ever have to work on things?"
"I've been working on things since I got here," Midnighter assured her. "And I haven't stopped."
Pushing herself up to sitting (so she didn't have to crane her neck funny anymore), she blinked up at him. "What kinda things?"
"Every kinda thing," Midnighter replied. "But mostly - self-control." He only told her so that she would know he knew what he was asking of her.
"Right, so you don't kill me on sight or somethin'," she agreed, realizing that was kind of obvious. After all, that was what made him so scary. She offered him a sheepish grin. "Uh, thanks for that."
"See you in two days," Midnighter gruffly replied. "And take care of your ankle."
Well clearly he was done putting up with her for today. Harley threw another salute (with the squirt gun). "Okay!"
She kept upright until he made it out the door, then immediately let herself flop back on the mat with a little groan. Too tired to fish out her water bottle, she started absently squirting water into her mouth from the water pistol. She would go ice her ankle, she knew she would - when Midnighter told her to do things, she did them - but for the moment, the only thing she wanted to do was lay here and play dead. Ugh, she'd definitely still be sore at their next session - and Midnighter never even broke a sweat!
