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“Oh. You’re bleeding,” Klaus said through the gap in the door, pushing it open further, “You’re bleeding a lot.”
Diego’s eyes shot up from where he’d been looking down at his stomach, meeting Klaus’s gaze in the mirror. His body froze, unsure of what to do—his instinct told him to shove his shirt back down and hide the hole in his gut, but he didn’t and he wasn’t sure why. Some other instinct knew he’d already been seen and didn’t want to hide. Normally, he’d have a snide rebuttal, something sharp and defensive at the ready, but he was exhausted and if he was being honest with himself, a little dizzy and a lot pained and the energy just wasn’t there to push.
“I’m fine,” he breathed after a long moment of just staring at Klaus in the mirror, who stared right back.
If it were a staring contest, Diego would have lost. He had to get this bleeding under control, so he dropped his gaze to the bandages he’d pulled out and put on the counter. The next step was splashing the area with hydrogen peroxide, which would hurt like hell. He didn’t want to do that part with an audience.
Klaus took another step forward and kept his gaze on him in the mirror, even after Diego had looked away. He wasn’t sure what to do exactly—Diego wasn’t his biggest fan, that had always been glaringly obvious. Still though, Klaus couldn’t bring himself to walk away from this. The wound looked serious and Diego didn’t have a fraction of his usual bite, which was a concerning sign.
“You don’t look fine,” Klaus said, keeping his tone even and calm, “You should let me help with that.”
Diego’s hands stilled where they were trying to push his shirt higher up under his chin and out of his way and he looked back at Klaus, turning to meet his eyes for real this time. His lips parted, but the words died on his tongue. He hadn’t been expecting the expression on Klaus’s face—the calmness, the openness. It wasn’t a look he’d seen on Klaus before and all of his protests wilted under the attention. He closed his mouth and swallowed before nodding, to his own bewilderment, the motion so small that he was half sure that Klaus wouldn’t even see it.
That wasn’t the case though—Klaus saw the tiny nod and it was all the invitation he needed. He closed the distance between them and took Diego’s broad shoulders in his hands, guiding him to sit down on the toilet seat. Diego went where Klaus directed too easily and it made Klaus’s stomach twist into a knot. He’d never seen him so deflated. Were Diego’s eyes a little glassy? They may have been a little glassy.
Diego just gave over control. He went were Klaus guided him, moved his hands when Klaus brushed them away from his stomach, lifted his arms over his head when Klaus pulled his shirt up and off. He wasn’t sure where it landed after that—now that he didn’t have to focus so hard on taking care of himself, he was finding it hard to focus on much of anything except Klaus hovering above him, casting a shadow over him that was soothing in an odd way—dark and safe and sleepy.
Klaus grew more worried with Diego's every submission, but at least he was being allowed to help—it would have been worse to have to watch Diego suffer through it himself or worse yet, having to leave and worry about him from afar. Klaus gently pushed Diego’s now bare shoulder and made him lean back against the tank. Diego hissed at the feeling of cold porcelain on his skin and Klaus took that as a good sign. Any sign from him at all felt like a good sign. He'd never seen Diego so subdued.
“This part is going to hurt,” He warned, taking the hydrogen peroxide and a towel in hand.
He took a breath and held the towel bunched under the wound before pouring the hydrogen peroxide over the opening. As soon as it made contact with the raw flesh on his abdomen, Diego tensed and sucked in an agonized breath while his hands scrabbled at Klaus’s to push him away. It didn’t take much strength to resist him, and soon enough, Klaus was finished pouring the peroxide. He put the brown bottle back on the counter and pressed the towel over Diego’s stomach. The opening was smaller than Klaus had initially thought, though still large enough that it needed to be bandaged. Slowly, he wiped away the blood, eyes flickering back and forth between the wound and Diego's face. He had his eyes squeezed shut and his head tipped back against the wall.
Diego’s head went blank, like he was shrinking back within his own mind. The sounds around him faded out and were replaced with ringing. He tried opening his eyes, but the edges of his vision were shadowy and blurred so he just squeezed them shut again. He dragged a ragged breath in and out and leaned forward abruptly, his hand blindly reaching for Klaus’s shoulder.
“‘M dizzy,” he said faintly, trying to blink the spots from his vision, shaking his head a little to clear it before shaking it to indicate that he wasn’t okay. “I’mma pass out.”
When Diego heaved forward, Klaus caught him with a hand to his shoulder and examined him. He was sickly looking, pale with white lips. Diego’s words just verified what Klaus had already suspected. His heart kicked into high gear, but he managed to stay calm as he stepped to Diego’s side, pulling his arm around his shoulders to help hoist him up off the toilet seat and then down to the ground.
“Okay. That’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m gonna lay you down on the floor, just breathe,” Klaus said as calmly as he could, though the way Diego’s head rested limply against his shoulder made him feel anything but calm.
He gently helped Diego down, keeping a hand behind his neck until he could pull another towel off the rack to ball up beneath his head. Diego just closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth.
There wasn’t much Klaus could do about Diego fainting, but he could handle the injury and now might be the perfect time to finish things up, while his consciousness wasn’t fully intact. He grabbed the bandages from the counter and efficiently covered and taped the wound. He’d had to do this a lot over the years for each of his siblings and himself and the steps came automatically to him.
When he finished, he stood and grabbed two washcloths, dampening them both before returning to Diego’s side. Thankfully, Diego still seemed conscious, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth pointedly. Klaus laid the cool rag on Diego’s forehead and it made him open his eyes weakly, searching for a second before landing on Klaus.
“Thank you,” he breathed faintly, reaching a shaky hand up to press the rag down tighter, moving it to his cheek and neck to try to cool down.
Klaus used the other cloth to wipe the blood away from around the bandage, leaving Diego more or less cleaned up and patched.
“You feeling any better?” He asked, taking over the job of moving the clean washcloth from neck to forehead to cheek for Diego, who relented his grip on the rag gratefully and let his hand drop back down to the floor.
Diego nodded faintly, blinking slowly and focusing on a spot on the ceiling. His ears weren’t ringing anymore and his vision wasn’t tunneling, but everything still felt too bright and hot and his head spun. He couldn’t focus on much else beside the way the floor felt like it was moving, but every moment it lessened just a bit more. It must have been a few minutes before he felt like he was back to normal enough to focus back in on Klaus and speak.
“Thanks,” he whispered tiredly.
“Course,” Klaus responded automatically. “You ready to try sitting up? I’ll help you and stay close in case you faint again.”
Diego nodded and took Klaus’s offered hands. He made an attempt, but did exactly none of the work of sitting up. Instead, Klaus just lifted him like lifting a corpse. Diego’s head swayed on his neck a little once he was upright, but he didn’t feel like he was going to pass out again. He was growing a bit better with each passing moment and realized after a few beats that Klaus’s arm was around his shoulders, holding him steady.
Diego's stomach still stung from the peroxide and his whole abdomen felt sore from the fight. The exhaustion was settling in. He rubbed his hands down his face and let out a sigh that turned into a yawn. He grimaced slightly when the deep breath made his gut twinge, but otherwise did his best to just ignore the pain. Klaus was still hovering there beside him and Diego looked at him. Klaus's eyes were almost owlishly big and his gaze was steadfastly fixed watching him.
"Help me up, will you?" he asked, voice rasping slightly.
Klaus's bobbed his head in agreement and his eyelashes fluttered slightly before he moved. Diego's mind was still a little fuzzy, as if all he had room for was whatever was right in front of him and now, that was Klaus. His pale, soft-looking skin, the mop of wild hair that puffed out around his face like a halo—he was always undeniably pretty, but he looked especially beautiful now. Ethereal. God, maybe Diego was concussed too.
He slung his arm over Klaus's shoulder and let Klaus pull him to his feet. Klaus grunted as he stumbled a little, struggling under his weight. Diego helped as much as he could, but he was weak and the effort made his stomach muscles scream in pain. By the time he was upright, he was breathing harshly through his teeth.
"Help me get to the couch," Diego said, jutting his chin toward the door.
Klaus wrapped his arm around Diego's waist and braced for it to hurt, but the warm press of Klaus's fingers was far enough from his wound that it didn't bother it. Instead, it gave him something to focus on, every little twitch of his hand as he helped guide Diego out of the bathroom. Every few steps or so, Diego's dangling fingertips would brush against Klaus's chest or arm and each time sent a little thrill up to his chest. He had the instinct to pull him closer, to lean on him more, to sink into the heat of him and close his eyes. He resisted.
"Why the couch?" Klaus asked as they got to the hall, voice pinched in effort.
Diego hesitated, but answered honestly, "I have nightmares after fights. I like sleeping in front of the tv—it helps."
"Hey, me too," Klaus trilled, sounding enthused to know someone shared that misery, "the TV helps you?"
"Yeah, it keeps me distracted. Gives me something else to focus on when I wake up besides the dark and the silence."
"Huh," Klaus said faintly, and that was all he said.
Diego wanted him to say more. He could sense that Klaus was retreating into his thoughts and it made him feel oddly left out. He wanted to step into his head and see what he was seeing too. Did he think that was childish? Like sleeping with a nightlight on? Or maybe he thought it was genius—if Klaus had nightmares too (which the whole house knew he did, Klaus woke up screaming at least once or twice a month) then surely he must appreciate how helpful Diego's little coping mechanism was.
They made it to the living room and Klaus helped lower Diego to the couch. He grunted as he settled his weight down, gritting his teeth against the pain as he pulled himself back into the corner and settled back against the cushions. He flicked on the TV, pulled one of the blankets off the back of the couch to lay over his lap, and settled in as comfortably as he could. Klaus's back was turned to Diego, eyes fixed to the screen. The volume was still set low and the channel was still set to watch Antiques Roadshow—Diego's favorite thing to fall asleep to—from the last time he'd done this. The TV didn't get much use, not with Reginald around.
"Can I stay and watch with you?" Klaus asked, turning to look at Diego with his sleeves pulled over his hands and his thumbnail between his teeth, "I'll be quiet, I swear."
Diego cracked his eyes open and looked at Klaus. The blue glow around the rim of his cheek made him look almost ghostly and it sent goosebumps down Diego's arms. He found himself wanting to touch the skin there, make sure it was actually still warm, that Klaus was actually still real. He'd been more calm and steady tonight with Diego that he'd ever been before. It was easy for Diego to convince himself he wasn't real. Diego nodded and watched as Klaus smiled, teeth flashing in the light as he plopped down beside Diego, making them both bounce a little. This felt more right—more normal. Klaus's energy was spilling over and it settled him more.
He closed his eyes and tried to let the exhaustion pull him under while Klaus shifted and adjusted on the couch beside him, getting comfortable. Eventually, he still and Diego tried to drift. They made it through a worthless WWI-era vase and a chair that was worth nearly six grand before Diego felt Klaus shift again and a weight settled in his lap. He cracked an eye open and looked down.
Klaus had laid down on his side and rested his head in Diego's lap to watch the tv, his cheek against Diego's thigh. The beige cable-knit blanket Klaus had also grabbed off the back of the couch was pulled up to his chin. Everything in Diego felt more heated, like a gush of warm water washing through his limbs. The heaviness of sleep pulled at him more strongly and he considered just giving into it and letting Klaus think Diego had been asleep the whole time—it'd certainly save them an awkward conversation in the morning. His mind-to-body filter was weakened though, and *fuck it* drifted through his head.
He gently slid his fingertips into Klaus's hair, smoothing it back away from his forehead idly. Klaus tensed for a moment, but when Diego continued to just slowly push his hand through his hair, he softened, nuzzling in closer to Diego's leg. Klaus's scalp was warm beneath Diego's fingertips—warm and *alive*—and that realization soothed over the last remaining outpost of anxiety he had.
"Goodnight, Di," Klaus whispered.
"Night, Klaus."
And with that, he finally fell asleep.