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Bob didn't wince like most people. The whole expression was just a slight tightening around his eyes. When they'd first gotten together, Spencer had had to be really paying attention to notice. Now, it was almost like he could feel it, like that tightening also occurred between his shoulders.

He took Bob's wrist and stretched it the way all the sites he'd looked up had recommended, grumbling, "If you wouldn't hold your wrists for crap when you play, we wouldn't have this problem."

Mildly, Bob said, "I don't bitch about your bad habits."

"My bad habits don't end in carpal tunnel," Spencer said, completely undeterred.

Bob just shrugged. "There were a lot of kids in my school bands. The instructors weren't going to be able to make sure every kid was positioning his wrists properly."

"Seeing as how it's sort of completely fucking integral to playing the instrument, maybe they should have taken the time."

Bob just smirked.

"Yeah, this is going to be hilarious when your hands start going numb and My Chem has to find their third drummer."

"Did you drink out of Ryan's water bottle this morning?"

Spencer made a face. "Sure, ridicule my concern."

Bob laughed a little, and brought his wrist up to his mouth with Spencer's hands still attached so that he could nip lightly at the fleshy underside of Spencer's thumb. "So teach me."


"Teach me how to do it right, o drumming expert."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Bob--"

"Teach me, Spence."

Something in Bob's tone made Spencer quiet. He said, "Um, okay," and pulled himself around until he was seated behind Bob, holding him in the V of his legs. He extended his arms to hold Bob's wrists in the proper position. "Like this."

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Skin by egelantier, photo by microbophile