Work Text:
Nathan sat there, pencil in hand searching the room for inspiration, tapping said pencil on his lap when his fruitless search for inspiration was interrupted by Flynn walking in their-well his apartment looking like absolute hell.
"Fun job?" Nate called out without looking up from his sketchbook.
"Oh the best, bloody bruises for days. But I got the shitty antique bracelet or whatever. Personally I think the client's bonkers for wanting this and is overpaying but eh, can't complain that much." Flynn answered clearly irritated and storming with rage but too physically exhausted to physically show it, he lumbered past the living room into the kitchen. Nate glanced up as his work partner swaggers by like a man exhausted but bearing too much pride. He grins at him affectionately.
"Can't complain that much 'yet'?"
"Ha ha, hilarious." A very dry unamused retort sounds from the kitchen, followed by the sound of his duffel bag being set on the floor with an ungrateful thump and the jingle of the supposed bracelet being hidden somewhere under lock and key until the client is ready to pay and collect. Nate felt sorry for Flynn in that moment as he too knows the exhaustion that can come with the job and for the reward to be a small antiquity that the client may or sometimes may not pay for. Also like 8/10 times you'll get shot at.
"I mean hey, who knows, maybe that bracelet leads to a secret city or something? Client could be on to something bigger? Could screw him over and find out." Nate calls out, throwing his partner a metaphorical bone per se.
"One day maybe, but nah mate not right now. Still gripping my bearings after getting the danm thing."
"Alright" Nate shrugs, returning to his dilemma of what to sketch so he could his mind active.
As Harry re enters the living room he stumbles on his footing slightly, using the wall to help catch himself. Still enough to get a now concerned Nathan Drake off the couch and to his side in a heartbeat, lending Harry some support.
"Hey hey, you alright? You didn't get any internal bleeding or anything did you by jumping into a wall right?" Nathan inquired half sarcastically half with genuine concern.
"Nah nothing like that, I'm fine mate,really, this is probably from when I fell off the roof at the end of my escape and hit my head on what I really really wish wasn't a bin." Flynn chuckled in dismay as he clutched his head tenderly, Nathan helped escort him onto the couch, holding Flynn as their footsteps shuffled across the floor.
"Let me see." Nathan spoke calmly as he ran his fingers gently through Flynn's soft hair taking his sweet time admiring the Brit's hair which felt so good to the touch, whilst also yknow checking for bumps,lumps or oh great blood.
"Harry! Your godanm head is bleeding! What the hell?! How have you not passed out from a concussion?" Nathan exclaimed dumb founded at the luck and lack of luck from this stupid man before him. Flynn only looked with a lopsided grin and replied in a tired chuckle.
"Think I'm on my way to that mate."
"I'll get some ice." Retorted an annoyed Nathan as he rushed to the freezer to find anything cold enough to put in a towel that would work to apply pressure. He grabbed some peas and returned to a rather calm Flynn who's blood has only just now started seeping down his face like a disappointed trickle down a drain pipe. He really wasn't bothered. Nate didn't feel the same as he gently but firmly placed the towel on the spot where the blood was oozing, Nathan couldn't tell if stitches were needed but he doubted it given that it was indeed a small amount of blood and most of it dried in his hair, must have been all the moving around after that making it bleed once more.
'What an absolute doof.'
Harry then managed to hold the pack himself against his head and Nate slowly retracted his now slightly blood stained hands much to his dismay.
"Idiot." Nate snapped, with a slight pout and furrowed brows.
"Am not."
"Are too."
"I've seen you come back with worse!"
"Ahuh right, idiotic liar."
"But I'm your idiotic liar right?"
Nathan physically scoffed at that, as he washed his hands disappointed with the shameless low standard for humour his partner had, then again it wasn't like Nate's bar for humour was much higher. Upon returning into the living room he saw Flynn sprawled out with his arm holding the pack with his tired and beaten expression and then it hit him. Inspiration. Nathan quickly rushed down to an opposing armrest chair, pencil and book in hand so suddenly, Flynn almost dropped his pack of peas and snapped at him incredulously.
"Alright mate! You tryna scare the living shit out of me?"
"Yep. Now stay like that." Nate replied quickly not taking his eyes off the journal or Flynn somehow simultaneously. Flynn rolled his eyes and spoke sounding bored.
"So I can get better I know. Wasn't planning on moving anyways. You don't have to write about my dear ol symptoms in your journal though, love."
"What? Pft no, I wanna draw you. So stay still."
Flynn looked at Nate incredulously for a second time.
"Draw me when I'm in absolute pain, half dying at my worst."
"Oh don't be so dramatic, besides there's something about your tired and ruddy bloody face that's just calling to me right now."
"...you're an absolute psycho, you know that right?"
"Yeah, but your psycho right?"
"Oh for God's sake-
"Yeah yeah I know I have a sense of humour that should be illegal but you do too. Now hush up and stay still."
Flynn grinned at that one and laid out ever so slightly more extravagant, or as extravagant as you can look with a bag of peas on your head.
"Just draw me like one of your french girls, yeah?" Flynn purred with a terrible attempt on a French accent.
"Nah."
"Oh come on."
"Nah."
"Jerk."
"But I'm YOUR jerk right?-
"NATHAN DRAKE I SWEAR TO GOD."