A massage...and dang Mrs. Hollands!!

"What are you doing?" Gabriel flinched away from Foster's touch, wincing. Foster sighed and moved closer, not letting the technician escape. Once again he slid his hands across Gabriel's shoulders, stroking, kneading a little.

 

"Giving you a massage," he whispered.

 

"I don't want a massage, I have a headache," Gabriel whimpered back, setting his glasses down and pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

 

"And that is exactly why I'm giving you a massage," Foster murmured in his ear, "trust me."

 

Gabriel surrendered, but not willingly, Foster could tell he wasn't happy. But he wouldn't fight, too afraid of making Foster angry. Instead he sat, tense and miserable, not exactly the best subject for what the nurse had in mind.

 

"Gabriel," Foster whispered, kissing the back of the man's head, "this won't work if you get more worked up, it's a tension headache, you need to relax, massage might help. It's worth a try, isn't it?"

 

Grimacing with pain, the man leant against Foster, who started to stroke along his back and shoulders again, expertly kneading out the knots and kinks in the muscles. "You're tense, hunching over your work like that is doing you no good," he whispered gently. Gabriel frowned, but didn't reply, not sure what Foster expected him to do. Gear repairs were delicate; he needed to lean in close.

 

It didn't take Foster long to work Gabriel's back and shoulders loose, he kissed the nape of his neck affectionately, ruffling the soft, dark hair.

 

"I'm sure that's not very professional," Gabriel whispered, leaning back into him, "What kind of massage are you planning?"

 

"It's an elevated level of customer service," Foster teased, kissing him again, "reserved only for the very, very special."

 

Gabriel squirmed happily at being called special, making Foster smile, he picked his lover up and carried him, protesting weakly, over to an empty table.

 

"We can't have sex here," complained the technician, "People can see us from the street…and I'm expecting some customers to collect their clocks and computers today. What if someone comes in while we're…?"

 

"Not having sex," Foster whispered, putting a finger to Gabriel's lips in a hushing motion, "I need you to lie down for this." He gently coaxed Gabriel into a stretched out position, sprawled on his back, then walked round to his head. "Can you move your head okay?"

 

Gabriel turned his head from side to side, experimentally. "Uh huh, what are you going to do to me?"

 

"I'm going to give you a massage."

 

"Yes, I know, but…" Gabriel squirmed a little, "What are you going to do?"

 

Foster smiled and started to gently rub the technician's shoulders again, then worked his way up to the hard lump of bone behind his ears. "I'm going to do palmar glide passes over the deltopectoral, deltoid, and posterior deltoid regions, bilaterally. And then I'm going to do some bilateral passes from the occiput to the lateral shoulder along the upper trapezius."

 

"Umm…" Gabriel interrupted, squinting up at him.

 

"Once I'm done with that, I'm going to do some axial cervical traction, and then I'll move on to scanning palpation of your upper trapezius, then your sternocleidomastoid, suboccipital, splenius capitis, levator scapulae and tremporalis muscles to find any trigger points. Once I've found the trigger points I'm going to treat them with flat palpation until the pain has dissipated, then release slowly to elicit vascular flushing. That'll take a while because I need to repeat it three or four times for each trigger point. We'll finish with some assisted stretching of your cervical paravertebral musculature. And then a bit of effleurage and petrissage to wrap up. Any questions?"

 

"You're going to do what now?"

 

"Relax, I'll take care of you," Foster whispered, kissing Gabriel's forehead.

 

Do you have any idea what he just said? Dexter's mental voice asked, querulously.

 

Peter grinned at the overheard voice.

 

No…do you?

 

Not a clue, we're getting out the anatomy books when we get home. I skipped past anything that wasn't brain related before…

 

Foster tried to not think about that last sentence, it raised too many disturbing thoughts. Instead he started to perform the session he had planned in his head. He worked steadily, the only noise an occasional moan from Gabriel as he hit a sensitive area. He was so intent on his task that it was almost twenty minutes later that it slowly dawned on him that silence was not a normal state of being for these two.

 

"Dexter?"

 

Hmmm?

 

"Should I be worried that you're being so quiet?"

 

I'm watching. He's getting a lot of these headaches recently. So if it works, and I can figure out how you fixed it…

 

"Dexter…"

 

Yes?

 

"Promise me you won't try this," Foster whispered, kissing Gabriel's forehead again.

 

Why? I can feel exactly how much pressure you're using, and where, and I can remember it exactly…

 

"Because it's not like a vending machine, press here, here and here and ka-ching! All better. It depends on how responsive the subject is to the touch, their reactions, the exact way you apply pressure changes needs to change depending on how the other person behaves. You could really hurt yourselves trying to do this without proper training."

 

I won't let him try, I promise.

 

What's the worst that could happen?

 

Foster sighed, "If you start messing about near the spine you could kill yourselves…" He tilted Gabriel's head until the sternocleidomastoid stood up in a tight band, then started to rub and stroke along it, gently. "Promise me you won't mess with this, please? I can't lose you, I don't know what I'd do..."

 

There was a moment of quiet while they both thought about what he'd said, and his tone of voice, then both voices spoke at once, almost too soft to hear. We promise.

 

"Thank you," Foster whispered, relieved. He went back to the massage, repeatedly working his middle and index fingers in a long line from the occipital bone behind Gabriel's ear, down to his shoulders. He was just stealing another quick kiss when the bell over the door chimed.

"Oh!" a female voice exclaimed.

 

Mrs. Hollands! Why is it always Mrs. Hollands!

 

"Shh," Foster tried to keep Gabriel still on the table, getting up now would not be the best thing for him, but he pulled away anyway, wincing.

 

"We weren't doing anything!" Gabriel yelped.

 

"I can come back," offered the elderly lady in the doorway. Foster decided immediately that he liked her. A lot.

 

"No, it's okay, I've finished the clock, it's in the back…" Gabriel leapt up in a way he probably shouldn't have done and bolted for the door to the back room. It had to be Mrs. Hollands didn't it? She scares me a little. She used to know my Dad…it's so embarrassing, she knew me when I was in diapers.

 

"A massage," Foster explained, "He gets all tensed up, hunching over his work the way he does."

 

"Ahh," Mrs. Hollands replied. The twinkle in her eye was pure mischief, and Foster knew from her facial expression that she suspected it would have been much more if she'd happened by a while later, he felt himself blushing. "None of that young man, a little afternoon delight does a body good."  

 

Foster was just trying to work out how to respond to that when Mrs. Hollands leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially, "I don't know what it is about his family and clockwork. His mother and his father were just the same; I walked in on quite the scene back when they were dating."

 

It took all Foster had to keep a straight face, Mrs. Hollands might have been quiet enough to keep a normal individual from eavesdropping, but she wasn't aware of just how sensitive somebody's hearing was. And while she might have heard the sudden crash from the back room, she didn't catch the mental yell of I did NOT need to hear that! 

 

Gabriel reappeared finally, panting a little, a clock held under his arm. "It should run fine now, just needed a little TLC," he announced happily.

 

"As does everybody dear," Mrs. Hollands took the clock off him gently, "Now you boys go have fun, don't worry about wrapping this up for me. There's more important things in life than work. At least, that's what your father used to say." She winked, and grabbed Foster by the sleeve, "He's a good boy, you look after him, you hear me young man?"

 

"Yes ma'am."

 

And then she was gone. Foster walked over to the door and very firmly locked it.

 

"What are you doing?" Gabriel asked, frowning.

 

"Doing as I'm told," Foster growled, winking mischievously. "We've been told to go have some fun." He lifted Gabriel up easily and carried him into the backroom. "I'm just doing as I'm told… And besides, I have a massage to finish."