Chapter Text
Hosea came back to consciousness slowly, then all at once. He was bogged down by the immense weight of what he could only assume were pain-numbing drugs, leaving him feeling cottony and driftless. He startled, his muscles giving a synchronized twitch as he breathed and tried to fight through the fog of pain and soreness, blinking himself awake. “Relax, Mr. Matthews, you’re safe.” A calm, soothing voice reached him from his left, and he drooped back, a little too tired to sit up but awake enough to loll his head to face the voice. A nurse was taking down information she was gathering from the vitals screen tilted just out of his line of vision. He tried to talk but it came out as a choked, dry wheeze, “Oh, here, take a sip of this.” The nurse offered him a hospital branded travel mug of water, which he gratefully gulped down. “You’ve been healing well, Mr. Matthews, your stitches are holding and there’s no sign of infection. You’ve also got more fluids in you now, you were extremely dehydrated and a little underweight when you came in.” Hosea rolled his head back, noting the catch of gauze on the pillowcase, they must have bandaged his head wound too. He hopef they hadn’t shaved off any of his thick blonde locks, he was secretly concerned they would all come back in grey. Slowly he took in the dim room he was in and the worn, hospital issued blankets tucked tight around his legs. He tried to sit up a bit, but the nurse gently motioned for him to lay back down as she adjusted the nasal cannula tucked behind his ears. “We’ll take this off soon enough, and don’t you worry about your partner, we finally convinced him to go out and get himself a coffee and a walk.”
Hosea blinked blearily, still fighting the thick fog in his head, “My-my partner?” The nurse flashed a conspiratorial smile, like she and Hosea were in on some fun secret together, “That man with the black mustache who brought you in, O’Malley I believe.” Hosea let out a short grunt and shifted in bed, about to dissuade the nurse of her presumptions, “You know, he’s barely left your side the last three days. We finally shooed him out to go stretch his legs. You have a very devoted man there, Mr. Matthews.” Now that he’d shifted up a bit, Hosea could finally take in the multiple crumpled styrofoam coffee cups in the trash and the small stack of worn books. A rumpled blanket was tossed into the small reclining chair a foot or two away from the bed. It was so small Dutch must’ve slept with his arms and legs hanging off it all night, Hosea mused. “I-I suppose I do…”
“Hosea!”
Hosea startled at the booming voice, but the nurse next to him only smiled and stifled a giggle. Dutch stood frozen in the doorway, his massive frame backlit by the harsh hospital lights. One large hand was still on the door handle, the other was wrapped around yet another styrofoam cup with steam billowing from the lid. Hosea could hardly say “hello” in the time it took the younger man to sweep in, setting his cup down on a plastic tray before rushing to Hosea’s right side. His big brown eyes were full of relief and conflict, clearly debating with himself how much he was allowed fawn and fuss. Mercifully, Hosea settled that decision for him, patting the empty space on the bed next to his knees with the hand not attached to the IV drip. As Dutch sat, Hosea felt a light burst of thrill in his ribs, it was…sweet. It was sweet to see Dutch like this, all flustered and worried, the bravado leeched out of him and replaced by tentative relief. “How’re you feeling? You look a little less gaunt.” Hosea flashed him a crooked, thin smile, “Fine, fine, just tired and sore.” Absentmindedly, one of Dutch’s hands had come to rest over Hosea’s knee and his thumb swept back and forth over the scratchy blanket as his eyes roved over every part of Hosea not covered by the hospital gown or tubes, “You do look almost a little peaked now though…” Dutch grimaced and turned to the nurse to speak with her, but Hosea interjected, “Hush now, you old worrywort, getting stabbed in the gut and thrown into a brick wall will do that to a man.” Dutch glared, but whatever demand he had for some new test or more fluids or less blankets died in his throat. The nurse shuffled towards the door, addressing them both as she went, “The doctor will be in later today to discuss your progress and rehab plans, so just take it easy till then. No activity or trying to move around too much, okay?” She winked conspiratorially again and slipped out, clicking the door closed behind her. Hosea sighed and turned his attention back to Dutch, “Now, what’s all this about you holing up in my room and annoying the nurses?” Dutch huffed and leaned back, but a look of childlike guilt crossed his face, “I didn’t annoy anyone, I just… requested to be kept up to date on your condition and wanted to make sure none of Jimmy’s boys came back to finish the job, is that so bad?” Hosea chuckled, Dutch was the perfect picture of defiant guilt, chest puffed but face twisting like he was replaying in his mind whatever definitely annoying shenanigans he got up to while Hosea was asleep.
Dutch’s reticence gave Hosea the opportunity to take in the scruffiness of the man’s beard and curly black locks, the deep blackish purple bags under his eyes, and the ginger way he held his shoulders, likely caused by crunching up in that tiny chair for who knows how long.
Clearing his throat, Hosea sat up a little more, inducing a whole new round of Dutch’s fussing until he got settled again. “That’s - kind of you, Dutch. Thank you for bringing me here… and for staying.” Dutch scoffed dismissively, but the tiniest hint of warmth dusted his cheeks, “Thank Molly, she was the one who realized something was wrong when you never rendevoused with her. She found me and roped me in an-” Hosea grinned dopily as Dutch launched into what would undoubtedly be a long and probably exaggerated tale of them finding Hosea half-dead in an alley. He leaned forward, placing one hand over the one Dutch still had resting on his knee and silenced him with a chaste, quick brush of his lips to the younger man’s scruffy cheek. Hosea flopped back with a smug, satisfied smirk, taking in Dutch’s dumbstruck expression, rapidly reddening cheeks, and the thumb on his leg that had gone still. “Thank you. Now, get off my bed, you incorrigible bastard, I need to rest.” Hosea had tried to sound jokingly put out, but the words came out dripping with fondness instead. Dutch snorted and grinned, patting Hosea knee teasingly. “Alright, Old Girl, you take your beauty sleep. God knows you need it.” Hosea grumbled back with a sleepy smirk, “Don’t go getting nice on me now Dutch, you know you’re stuck with me until I’m healed, right?” Hosea would’ve immediately regretted saying something so meaningful, something so gaping and yawning between them if it hadn’t been for the impossibly fond look Dutch gave him as he stood and stretched. With a put upon bravado, Dutch huffed and sighed, but tugged his chair closer to the bed and cracked a book, “Oh, what a terrible tragedy for me. How will I ever cope?” Hosea leaned over to weakly smack the back of Dutch’s hand teasingly, but followed it up by guiding it over to the edge of his bed and lacing their fingers together as he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
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Having Dutch to keep him company in the hospital was nice. At least, that’s what Hosea was desperately trying to convince himself of as he watched Dutch pace back and forth in front of the foot of his bed, bawling him out for the fifth time this week. Hosea couldn’t even be arsed to move his head, watching only with his eyes as the tall man stormed back and forth across the same three feet of tile. “Jesus, Dutch, I was only going on a short walk!” Dutch spun on him, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury, “A short walk! A short walk, he says! Need I remind you that that short walk ended with you lying on the ground gasping for air like a fish! It’s goddamn lucky that nurse found you when he did.” Hosea snapped back, “I hate being cooped up like this, like I’m someone’s feeble three times great grandpa!” Dutch looked like he was about to make a snide remark, but Hosea shushed him with a stern, deadly look. Flopping down in the chair they’d both come to know as his, Dutch brushed his hair back with one hand, “You’ve been here for nine days, Old Girl, only six of which you’ve been conscious for, give it some time! The doctor likes how you’ve been doing with your PT, just give your lungs a chance to catch up.” Hosea glared at Dutch icily, who neither blinked nor backed down in the face of Hosea’s ire. It would be far more annoying if it wasn’t so endearing, how unfazed Dutch was by Hosea’s many creative and colorful threats.
No matter how much he protested and tried to convince everyone that lingering rattle was just allergies, it all fell on deaf ears. The doctor ruled it an infection that preyed on his already weakened body, and they weren’t comfortable releasing him until he could reliably walk and move about without getting winded three steps in. A mere couple months ago he probably would’ve told the doctor to fuck off and sign the damn release papers already, but now he was up against a no nonsense doctor and a full of nonsense but overprotective outlaw who hardly gave him a minute of peace. Dutch sighed and reached over to pat the back of Hosea’s hand as a peacemaking gesture, “I know, I know. But the second your cough is gone, we’ll bust ya outta here no problem. Maybe to celebrate I’ll take you on a joyride, hm?” Hosea snickered, “I know you, Dutch, if this infection doesn’t take me your driving skills will.” Dutch glared sternly, but a hint of mischief still lingered in his eyes, “Don’t you dare joke about that Hosea Matthews, you incorrigible bastard. Now, rest the hell up, won’t you?” “I will, I will, just shut up, won’t you?” Dutch chuckled, twining three fingers with Hosea’s as he settled in and cracked a book as Hosea began to drift back into a restorative sleep.