Chapter Text
He’s halfway to falling asleep again when the rest of his brothers walk in.
He can only make out the tail end of whatever anecdote John Dory is telling—”....so anyway that's why I’m banned from every venue within a twelve mile radius of the”—until he interrupts himself with a cheerful, “Oh, there you two are! We were just about to—”
Floyd opens his eyes again just in time to catch John Dory hurrying over to them, suddenly worried. “Hey, are you alright?!”
And Floyd is about to answer that yeah, he’s fine, don’t worry, but he’s only gotten the “Yeah” part out before John’s fussing over him again, looking around him like if he can just find the source he can squash it and put an end to this. Floyd wants to tell him to stop, that he’s fine, really but the words stick in his throat and he’s still fighting to stay awake and if he says anything it will only worry them more—
“He’s okay.” Until suddenly there’s Branch leaning over him to shove John Dory back. John balks, still tries to reach out but Floyd surmises from the way he suddenly drops his hands and backs off that Branch probably hit him with one of those firm glares he’s so good at. Shockingly good at. “He just got winded from the show but he’s fine now.”
“Anything hurting?” Clay piping up, of course, looking over like he’s ready to leap into action at any moment.
Floyd shakes his head, then decides it’d be better for them if he said it out loud. “No.” Not anymore, at least.
“Here, let’s get you off the….” Floyd’s knees buckle only once when Bruce helps him up but he doesn’t get very far before the other troll catches him, and within the next few seconds Floyd is sinking gratefully into one of the beanbag chairs strewn at the center of the room. He’d been gritting his teeth the entire way over to muffle anything that might set his brothers into a frenzy again but he lets it go now, a deep sigh of relief. Somehow Bruce is already pressing a glass into his hands but he doesn’t say anything, just lets it happen.
“So…. we’ve been talking about where we’re gonna go from here.” Clay’s tone hushed as he changes the subject. It seems Branch is the only one brave enough to take the chair next to Floyd’s because the others are still standing around, vigilant. Clay continues, “For now the plan is for John to take you, Branch, and Poppy back to the village.”
It’s harder to pay attention when his body is screaming at him to sleep. Still, Floyd leans further into the beanbag and drapes an arm over his eyes. He hears his pulse stuttering in his temples. “What about the rest of you?”
“I’m working something out with Brandy,” Bruce answers, followed by Clay’s, “And Viva and me need to go back and check on the Putt Putts. See if we can bring them to the village with us.”
“Which means we will have plenty of time for some brother-brother bonding in Branch’s bunkeeeeer!” John punctuates it with a silly kind of finger-waggy gesture.
“Whoah whoah whoah, when did we decide this?” Branch swiveling up towards John with offense written all over his face.
“Poppy told me I should try ‘broaching the subject’ with you.” Air quotes.
A groan. “Of course she did.” But there’s an unmistakable hint of affection in Branch’s scowl, and anyway: “In any case, the first thing we’re doing when we get back is taking you to a doctor.”
If Floyd could bolt upright, he would, but as it stands the most he can manage is a flinch and a breathy, “I don’t need a doctor.”
“It’s just to look you over.” At last Clay settles into the beanbag at Floyd’s other side, even if it’s only so they can be at a more even eye level. “Make sure everything’s…. okay.” On that last word he drops his gaze, and Floyd doesn’t miss the way Clay quickly glances at his hands before looking away entirely.
Clay’s words from last night replay in his mind. Let us help you. Floyd clenches his hands around the glass, bites his lip as he turns to address the room at large.
“Guys, I—I appreciate all of this, I really do, but—”
Bruce swoops in immediately, all authority figure-like. “No buts!” Kneeling down to Floyd’s level, risking a hand on Floyd’s knee. “It’s for your own good. That’s all we’re asking of you.” But his stern tone is replaced with a smile almost immediately. Warm, if apologetic. He gives Floyd’s knee a squeeze.
The only one who’s still keeping his distance is John Dory, lingering behind them all with tense shoulders like he’s afraid to come closer. Or afraid they won’t let him. Nevermind that he’s the reason they’re all together like this again.
Floyd remembers his worried face through a wall of crystal and for a moment, just for a second, he feels something prick at the corners of his eyes.
He shuts his eyes against it. Takes a deep breath. “....Okay.”
“Thank you.” And he knows Bruce is speaking for all of them.
Once again, the conversation shifts to more pleasant topics. What else they’re going to do when they get back home. The welcome back party Poppy’s already planning. The stern talking-to Clay plans on giving to Peppy and he doesn’t care if Peppy is troll royalty what he did to Poppy and Viva wasn’t cool.
He’s drifting again, lulled by the plush seat and the sound of his brothers’ voices, but Floyd still manages a soft chuckle. Partly in response to Clay’s tirade but mostly because he can’t remember the last time he felt this content. This safe. Despite everything.
It slips out without him realizing.
“I missed you guys.”
A break in the chatter. He hears shuffling, someone clearing their throat like they’re driving back tears. It’s John Dory’s voice that answers him.
“We missed you, too.”
Floyd smiles as he finally sinks into sleep.