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It’s a little past one a.m. when the pounding on your door starts, and while you’re not actually asleep yet, you still find it awfully rude of this person to have planned on waking you up at such a late hour in such a loud and disturbing way. You can already tell that the grumpy old woman who lives in the apartment next door to yours will be sure to find you tomorrow and complain about the noise. Clumsily you climb up off the couch and out from under your multiple layers of cozy blankets. You stumble in your half-asleep state to the door and once again curse your landlord for refusing to put in peepholes. Nervously you turn the scratched-up doorknob, hoping that you won’t find some sort of creepy serial killer on the other side of your door.
“Oh,” You’re taken aback by the sight before you, “Shit. Diego, what happened?”
“Wasn’t expected so many assholes to show up. ‘S not as bad as it looks though.” He wraps his arm around your shoulder and allows you to guide him into your apartment and onto the couch. You make quick work of taking off his leather harness and see a long tear in his striped sweater. With the material moved aside you’re finally able to get a good look at the large gash underneath and a soft hiss escapes from your lips at just how bad it is. The deep cut runs from his hipbone up to just below his pec and it’s oozing blood.
“Diego, this is bad! You should be at a hospital. Let me take you to one.” You scold.
He responds immediately, shaking his head and mumbling, “No. They’ll ask too many questions. I'm not in the mood to be arrested tonight.”
You take a moment before responding, just continuing to stare at the wound. You know that you won’t change his mind. He’s far, far too stubborn for that. “Ok. I’ll do my best then. Just stay here for a moment.”
You rush towards your bathroom and grab a decent enough sized first aid kit that you keep around specifically for moments like this before heading towards your bedroom. You’d bought a small sewing kit about a year back just in case there was ever an emergency that called for it, though you’d been expected a missing button and not a knife wound. After a few minutes of searching, you find it buried in a junk drawer in your nightstand. You can’t stop yourself from gagging slightly as you stare down at the small bin in your hands knowing what you’re about to use it for. You’ve never been good around blood and while years of cleaning up Diego had helped you toughen up a bit, the idea of stitching someone up absolutely horrifies you. You’ve always been thankful that Diego had never come to you with a bad enough injury to require them before. And on top of all that, you know how terrified Diego is of needles and absolutely hate just how bad having to get stitches is bound to scare and upset him.
You head to the kitchen next to wet a few dish towels before walking back to Diego on the couch. His head is leaned back against the top of the sofa causing it to dip slightly and his eyes have drifted shut, though you know he’s not actually sleeping. They lift back open foggily when you place a hand his knee before steadily focusing on your own, waiting for your instructions.
“I need to try to clean it up first so that I can a better look, ok? Just stay still.” Once he’s nodded his understanding you start to pull the rest of his ruined sweater away from his blood stickied abdomen as gently as you can. This only serves to smear the blood farther out, but currently, your only concern is with the large and still lightly bleeding gash. You dab at the wound softly with one of the washcloths, starting down at his hip and working upwards. You’re sat fully up on knees once you finish making it all the way up his torso and a low pant escapes your lips when you look back down to notice that blood has started to collect again.
Damn. You’d still been really hoping to not have to pull out the sewing kit. But, the bleeding isn’t stopping on its own and now that it is more visible you can see just how deep the cut is. It’s not immediately life-threatening, but you know that leaving it open would be dangerous. “Ok. Um, I think it needs stitches, so I just need you to keep staying still for me.”
Diego’s head, which had made its way back against the couch, shot up at your statement and the jerking of his body clearly hurt, as a pained grimace makes its way across his now anxious face. “S…S…St-stitches! No. N-no n…n-needles.”
You’ve only ever heard him struggle this much with his words once before, after he’d had a ridiculously bad night that left multiple people, including a cop, dead. It had been different that time though. He’d been feeling regret and shame then, not fear, like he is now. You know that Diego doesn’t do all that well with fear. You know that it always made him feel insecure and out of control.
“Shhh… Diego, it’s ok. Just take some deep breaths.” You let go of the now blood-soaked cloth to hold one of his large, shaking hands in both of yours. You both just sit there for a moment, you brushing your fingers up and down his palm and him clenching his eyes shut and trying to calm down for you.
After a few minutes, Diego opens his eyes back up to look at you with blown out pupils. His breathing has started to go back to normal, but he’s clearly still scared. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out this time is a few stuttered syllables. You shake your head softly at him, reaching one of your hands up to cup his cheek. “You’re alright D. You’ll find them. The words will come. There’s no need to rush for me.” You keep your voice hushed as you search his eyes.
Your gaze has drifted down to both of your hands as you wait with him, but Diego catches your attention when he begins to try to speak again, “O-ok. J..j-just puh..please be c…c..” He pauses, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath before finishing his statement, “Careful.”
“Of course, Diego. I promise.” You quickly finish cleaning up the wound the best you can before opening the kit and sterilizing one of the needles with an alcohol wipe. The thread you pull out is a deep blue color visible enough to see against his skin so that you can avoid mistakes.
It’s your turn to take a deep breath now as you try to keep a steady hand. It takes everything in you not to run away or throw up during the first few stitches, but after that, it becomes much more habitual. In and out. In and out. Diego’s hands tightly grip the cushion he is sitting on the whole time. Not that you can blame him. You’re purposely not thinking too much about just how much pain he must be in at this moment. A huge breath of relief rushes past your parted lips once your done tying off the thread. Now all you have to do is dress the wound, an act that has become like second nature to you in the time you’ve known Diego, so you’re done quickly.
You don’t allow yourself to pause though. Instead, you help to get Diego the rest of the way out of his sweater so that you can finishing cleaning the blood off of his skin. He watches as you start to pick up the dirty towels from around the both of you and reaches his arm out to stop you just as your about to head towards the laundry room. Diego wraps his hand gently around your wrist, pulling you back around to look at him again before gesturing for you to lean down towards him. He meets you in a sweet, comforting kiss. It doesn’t last long, but it makes you infinitely better.
“T-thank you, princess. I k..k-know you hate c-cleaning me up and seeing me h..h-hurt.” His nose continues to brush against your own when he pulls back slightly to thank you. You're just happy to see him speaking with so few interruptions again.
“It’s ok, love. As long as you keep coming home, yeah?” You know you question his safety like this a lot, but the reassurance gives you slight peace of mind, so Diego plays along like he always does. He nods his head up and down sincerely and then pulls you down for one more kiss before he lets go to let you clean up.
You leave one final kiss on his head as you start to walk away before stopping to turn to him once more. “I love you, Diego.” You send him a soft smile along with your heartfelt words and he returns it immediately.
“I love you too, Y/N.”