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“You look like shit” Deimos lets out a brief chuckle as he pulls at the back of his cap to release the clasp holding it to his bandaged head.
Sanford did indeed look like shit; more shitty than his usual post bloodbath showcases for the lads in the changing rooms. He always likes to show off his new scratches and bruises but holy shit, he looked like utter crap.
His old bandages wrapped around well healed wounds were torn apart completely leaving only blood stained threads behind, clinging for dear life on his worn down belt. He clutches at his bandanna as Deimos’ attention is drawn to the pieces of shrapnel scattered across Sanford’s dirt and sweat covered forehead. He raises an eyebrow,
“Really? I thought I looked good.” His voice seems awfully hoarse as if he’d been yelling insults more than usual. He gets easily riled up on missions without Deimos, mostly because they aren’t as fun with the others.
Deimos was already rummaging around in the first aid kit, searching for a pair of tweezers to remove the shattered metal stuck in Sanford’s skin,
“Shut up and sit down-“ patting the bench where Deimos’ change of clothes and fresh towel were previously laying. He was planning on a well earned shower from being cooped up in the computer room all day, but obviously that plan changed.
Sanford never comes back from missions with Deimos looking like this. Sure they come back with a couple new scratches and bumps but it’s never this bad. At least he’s here to look after Sanford once he comes back, though he’s worried one day he might not return at all. Even the idea of that sends shivers down his spine as Sanford plops his heavy body onto the bench by the frantic searching Deimos,
“How’m I lookin’, doctor Deimos?” Though barely smiling, Sanford looks exhausted. He definitely needs a good sleep once he’s all patched up again. Deimos carefully pulls at old bandage threads lodged in the freshly cut wound on Sanford’s abdomen before coating his hands in antiseptic fluid,
“I’ve already said, like shit.” A loud hiss comes from above the crouching Deimos’ head as he tenderly cleans the blood around the gash across Sanford’s stomach area. He really wished Sanford would shave around here as it’s always a fuss avoiding hair when tending to wounds, “Can you sew yourself up while I deal with the crap in your face?”
“‘Course,” Sanford cringes as he leans towards the first aid kit to pull out medical thread, something he’s more than used to using, “you’re a good partner, Dei.”
Yeah, Deimos knows that. Of course he’s a good partner, otherwise you’d be dead.
“Thanks ‘Ford, I try.” Deimos hasn’t had to deal with shrapnel this bad before, or any kind of shrapnel for that matter. It’s made worse by being in Sanford’s face. What an awkward place to get to. Deimos tries to kneel first, but Sanford’s very tall and Deimos is very small when he’s kneeling down.
“Dei, you good?” Sanford works at his wound effortlessly as he wonders at the confused and highly focussed expression on Deimos’ face. It’s kind of funny, but he’s used to seeing that thinking face many times before. It still doesn’t make it any less cute however,
“Yeah I’m just,” Deimos struggles to his feet as his knees crack and pop with each sharp movement. Removing his long jacket and tossing it aside, Deimos practically straddles over Sanford’s knees to get a good angle on the metal fragments, “trying to get to your face.”
Success? It’s a very uncomfortable position for Deimos but at least he can start working on removing the fragments from his partner’s face. Sanford looks... slightly concerned. They’ve been the close before but that was for stealths sake. It was serious! It was life and death! This is just odd. It’s also nice to examine his friend’s face a little closer than normal without the threat of, well, dying.
“You have pretty eyes,” though the tone sounds slightly teasing, it was very much serious. Deimos does have pretty eyes and he very much knows it, “also- Ow- also you have a VERY steady hand. That’s good.”
“What’s with the compliments? What do you want from me?” Deimos looks down from his current work; it’s very far from finished, “if you’re buttering me up so you can take my beer, it isn’t happening again. I work hard for that.”
Sanford pats Deimos’ cheek twice gently before resuming with actually closing up the open wound that is very much painful,
“Just felt like saying it. Maybe I’m soppy from you takin’ care of me, Dei.” He looks awfully happy for someone who’s having metal removed from their head.
Deimos gets a little flustered as a soft red slowly fills his cheeks, “I’m just keeping you alive so I don’t end up with a worse partner!” A smooth recovery from a moment of weakness. Truth is Deimos enjoys taking care of Sanford. He enjoys taking care of him. Deimos isn’t the strongest physically so taking care of Sanford makes up for that in his mind. He knows they make a great team and even better friends. Sometimes he just wonders-
“Ah shit that one stung like a bitch!” Sanford struggles in place as his head tugs away from the tweezers holding the largest piece of shrapnel. Deimos let his mind wonder and wasn’t so careful with that last fragment as fresh blood starts to trickle from the pierced skin and flesh,
“Don’t wriggle, hold on-” Deimos reaches down to grab whatever fabric is available to him to dampen the bleeding. He happens to lift up his jacket and pads the blood away from Sanford’s eyes. Sanford doesn’t like the light that much so he typically wears glasses indoors and out so seeing his eyes is a rarity in its own accord, however Deimos has had the privilege of seeing them many times before, just like now. It would be a shame to taint such a fresh and striking green with blood red,
“Am I done? All metal free?” Sanford moves the jacket out of his face to look slightly up at a very concerned Deimos. Neither party has realised it but the shorter of the two has managed to slip down onto Sanford’s lap during the extraction.
-he just wonders... what if they had a stronger bond? Stronger than what they think is friendship and teamwork. They bounce off each other in perfect harmony without a word being said. Deimos doubts Sanford feels the same. He’s never caught him looking like Ford’s caught him. He’s never heard him talk about him the way Deimos talks about Sanford.
He doesn’t know it’s the exact same for Sanford.
“Metal free, just need the bandages now-“ once the jacket falls back to the ground both men gain the realisation what position they’re sat in together. A brief moment of silence and awkward staring follows before Sanford breaks and make a move,
“I-I-Uh... you comfy there?” Deimos cannot speak. He’s frozen in place wondering what to do. If he gets up it might upset Sanford who seems content enough, but if he doesn’t he might send the wrong signal... or the right.
They’re so lucky that the rest of the group are out on missions right now. If anyone walked in at this moment they would be split up for forming emotional attachments.
“Dei?” Waving his bandaged and battered hand in front of Deimos’ face, Sanford manages to bring his partner back into this world, “Deimos are you there?”
Deimos? Yes he’s definitely there. The charismatic one. The funny one. The confident one. The one who makes the first move whether wrong or right.
Pushing Sanford’s hair back with both of his bloody hands, Deimos grasps the back of his partner’s neck and pulls him closer. He should be more gentle but he doesn’t really care. Sanford’s come back from worse injuries.
With a quick tilt of his head, Deimos throws himself into a kiss, albeit a bit clumsy and hasty. It lasts only a second with nerves building up so much that they force Deimos to pull away. He doesn’t want to upset Sanford. He doesn’t want to ruin the bond. Oh go he’s already done it. He’s already ruined it and now Sanford will hate him and think he’s gross. He’s probably going to punch him for being so weird, right? He would if he was Sanfo-
“Why’dyou stop?” Cupping his hands around Deimos’ face, he uses his thumb to gently caress his flushed and over-heating cheeks, “I would’ve hit you if I wanted you to stop, you know that. You saw me with that guy the other month. C’mere-“ Sanford motions for Deimos to lean back in. Without a second thought and full confirmation from Sanford himself Deimos dives right back in.
Deimos is more rough than Sanford originally imagined. Whenever the thought crossed his mind he always pictured him as a soft and caring kisser. This is nice though, and he’s very good.
Sanford is more gentle than Deimos originally imagined. Whenever the thought crossed his mind he always pictured him as a rough and passionate kisser. This is nice though, and he’s very good.
“You taste like coffee,” Sanford quickly remarks as they quickly find a rhythm that suits them both. Deimos’ reply soon follows,
“And you taste like shit.”