Work Text:
Sometimes it’s easier to hit each other than talk.
Drifter stands six feet from him, blood dripping down his face from a busted nose. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and only manages to smear blood up his cheek, partly covering the knuckles-shaped bruises blooming on his cheekbone. He bares his red-stained teeth in something like a grin or a snarl. Shin bounces on the ball of his feet, prodding a loose teeth with his tongue, focusing on the sharp pain of his cracked ribs every time he breathes in.
They’ve been at it for long enough he’s starting to get winded, but he won’t be the one to call this off. No Light, no Ghost, no guns; all he got left is tenacity and spite, but he doesn’t need anything more when dealing with the Drifter.
(There will be a second Collapse long before he lets him win an argument.)
Drifter takes a swipe at him. He ducks out of the way and right into the knee rising to meet him, colliding with his sternum. He chokes as something in his chest cracks. His legs give out under him and he crumbles to the ground, only barely rolling out of the way of the Drifter’s next attack.
He knows the second he rolls on his back that he’s done. Drifter drops on top of him, straddles his waist and pins him to the floor. His hand curls around Shin’s wrists, keeping them above his head. He tries to push against the hold and has to fight back nausea when the slight movement jostles his broken rib.
Shin grits his teeth around the words I yield, refusing to utter them, but it’s not as if Drifter needs it. One look is enough for him to know Shin isn’t going anywhere, and he smirks like the slimy, aggravating fucker he is—
He’s still smiling when he kisses Shin, smug and mocking in equal parts. Shin bites down on his lower lip in retaliation and tastes nothing but copper.