Work Text:
“Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see,” Ghoul enthused. He practically skipped over to the passenger’s side of the Trans Am. For all his excitement, he was uncharacteristically careful as he slid under Kobra’s arm, supporting him into the diner.
Kobra moved slowly, one hand pressed to the center of his chest.
“‘S all wrapped up, nothin’ to see.”
“Well,” pouted Ghoul. “I think y’look great.”
Jet held the diner door open for the pair, carrying a bag that rattled slightly. Ghoul knew getting Kobra to actually take his meds would be a struggle, but between the four of them, he hoped they’d work something out. Getting into the city and back once was hard enough, trying to do it again if anything went wrong would be a nightmare.
“Surgeon said he did really well,” Jet chimed in from behind them. “Their fastest time yet.”
“Can we lie down?”
Kobra’s voice didn’t catch. But there was a soft edge to it and, combined with the dark circles on his otherwise-unnaturally-pale face, Ghoul felt a sudden ache next to his heart.
“Yeah, you think you can make it to bed?”
Pressing his lips together, Kobra shook his head. So Ghoul ghosted a kiss over his heart, carefully led him to the couch next to the door, and eased him onto it.
“There y’ go, Hermoso.”
“Jet?”
In an instant, they were kneeling at Kobra’s side. They held a bottle of water out, the top already unscrewed, and Kobra winced when he reached for it. Smiling encouragingly, Jet took the bottle back when Kobra finished with it, then brushed a hand over his hair as they stood.
“You hungry?”
Again, Kobra shook his head.
“‘M gonna go call Pois and the Girl, tell them we’re back.”
“Thanks, Jet,” smiled Ghoul.
Then they were alone, the silence stretching delicate and thin until Kobra broke it with a sniffle. Ghoul’s first instinct, to wrap him in a hug so tight it could break something, was so obviously not the thing to do that he froze. Another sniffle and Ghoul started moving, prodding Kobra to turn, grabbing a pillow to set across his lap, and gently tugging Kobra’s shoulder under he lay down on his back, head in Ghoul’s lap and legs hanging off the end of the couch.
“You’re okay, baby,” murmured Ghoul. Kobra’s eyes were closed, tears leaking from under his eyelids. “Worst of it’s over. I got you.”
He continued murmuring reassurances, stroking blonde strands away from Kobra’s forehead until his tears stopped and his breathing evened out. Jet came back with a blanket, spreading it over Kobra’s sleeping form gently.
“Pois and Girlie are gonna be back soon,” they whispered.
“We’ll be here,” joked Ghoul.
Jet nodded, turned to leave, turned back. “I’ve never seen him smile so bright than when they wheeled him out of the operating room.”
Ghoul blinked away a few tears of his own, voice strangled when he finally croaked out an “I bet.”
Then Jet left. Or at least left them alone. They grabbed a magazine from the counter and curled into a booth somewhere in Ghoul’s periphery. He was more focused on his boyfriend.
The blanket Jet had covered Kobra with was worn and threadbare, the surface uneven where it met the drains hanging from either side of Kobra’s chest. Ghoul kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them, featherlight, to the center of Kobra’s chest.
Beneath the blanket, Kobra’s shirt, layers of padding and bandages, his chest rose and fell steadily. It would be at least a few days, the surgeon had told them in a call beforehand, until the bandages could come off, half a moon before Kobra would be barely approaching back-to-normal.
In his sleep, Kobra snuffled softly. He looked at peace.