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It didn’t hurt as much as Diego had anticipated. It didn’t exactly tickle, but then again, most injuries didn’t. It was the adrenaline, that much he was sure of, especially when he could also see the knife coming toward him in almost slow motion, unable for him to dodge it. It had lodged deep in his shoulder, right above his shoulder blade. The tip of the blade hadn’t quite poked through, but it would’ve been possible if his attacker hadn’t been kicked off, and not a moment too soon. However, now he had the issue of a knife sticking out of his shoulder.
Diego had summoned all of his strength to drag himself home, staggering into the great room with blood dripping onto the ground. Luther would bitch at him later for if, but that was a tomorrow problem and today’s problem was the knife sticking out of his flesh.
He had only made it a couple more steps into the lounge when he heard a ragged gasp and saw a light being shone in his face.
“What the hell,” rasped Diego, bringing up his good hand to block out the piercing rays of light from his eyes.
The light was averted from his face while still shinning on the rest of him, illuminating his torn clothes and blood splattered skin.
“Is that a knife?”
Diego stifled a groan as he took another step forward, all of his energy forced into keeping himself upright. The room was beginning to spin and the floor slanting so that Diego felt like he was walking uphill. His eyes slammed shut to stop the vertigo feeling from intensifying into something worse.
“What does it look like, Luther,” Diego forced out, swallowing the rising feeling of nausea that suddenly lodged in his throat.
Luther clamped his mouth shut as he rushed to his feet. He gave Diego a wide berth at first before drawing closer and looking his brother up and down. “D.....Does it h-hurt?”
“Does it hurt? What the fuck do you think?”
Luther clamped his mouth shut, eyes drawn to slits. “You can’t keep it in. It could cause an infection or something. You need to take it out!”
Diego ignored the sudden cry of alarm in Luther’s voice and drew forward, past his broad shouldered sibling. His left foot struck the corner of the nearest couch and forced him to fall forward, the couch breaking his fall.
The knife was slightly pushed deeper from the impact and Diego let out a sudden scream that was muffled by him forcing his mouth to grip his forearm hard. It wasn’t deep enough to draw blood, but it was still surprisingly painful. It took some of his focus away from the knife in his shoulder that had just been moved a millimeter, so he would chalk it up as necessary.
Luther grimaced, his own stomach lurching in discomfort. “Come on. We have to get that out.”
Diego released the skin of his forearm from his teeth when the stabbing pain began to subside. “We?”
“You can’t take that out yourself, at least not without at least some help.” Luther strategically let out the part that he was going to have to be the one to help considering the rest of the family was asleep, or should be asleep that is.
Diego grimaced at the mere thought. “I don’t need help,” he flashed, stretching out on the couch with his gaze harsh on his shoulder as though it had personally offended him.
“Sure you don’t. You can just pull that knife out, bleed all over the couch, and potentially slip into unconsciousness from blood loss. You still think that you don’t need help,” Luther pressed, voice surprisingly calm and lacking any smugness.
Diego muttered to himself, gaze raking the knife still protruding from his shoulder. Looking at it sent a flash of pain down his arm that was impossible to ignore. He stretched out across the couch, breaths coming in deliberate pants to ward off the clawing feeling of wooziness that gripped him like a vice and began to tighten with each passing moment.
“You don’t speak a word of this, got it,” Diego finally spat.
Luther understood the threat in Diego’s voice for it was one that he had heard often throughout the years. Diego had a way of delivering any threat, no matter how minor, with such ferocity and intent that most of his siblings didn’t dare cross him. Normally Luther was included in that statistic, but right now he knew that there was nothing that Diego could do to him and his brother needed his help, whether or not he would openly admit it or not.
“If I agree to that can we get this done with? I’d like to get to sleep at least sometime tonight.”
“Fine,” Diego huffed, slumping forward on the couch with his legs practically shaking as he touched his toes to the ground and slightly pushed up on his legs so that they were crunched toward his midsection.
Luther nodded and momentarily left Diego’s side to hunt for the first aid kit.
When he returned with a large metal tackle box that one used for fishing, Diego immediately turned up his nose at the mere look of it.
“Has that been used since, like, 1962,” Diego commented.
Luther set the box down on the coffee table and flipped open the top. “This is the first one that I found without having to go down into the infirmary. I think it should have most of what we need.”
“Which would be?”
Luther picked up numerous objects and held them up for Diego to inspect. “Gauze, alcohol for disinfecting the wound, a wrap for when we’re done, and I’ll see if I can stitch it up too.”
“Perfect,” growled Diego as he tipped his head back to the ceiling. The pull to leave consciousness was ever present and it took almost all of his control to keep his eyes open and focused on the task at hand. His body felt oddly tingly and numb, as though he was looking down on himself after being disconnected from his body. It wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable feeling, but it was certainly one he hadn’t experienced quite to this extent before.
“Hey!” A hand came up and tapped him harshly on the cheek, turning his attention from his wayward thoughts to the large man hovering over him.
Diego bared his teeth in a slight snarl. “What the hell?”
“I was losing you for a moment there,” Luther commented, attempting to keep the obvious concern from his voice.
“It was nothing,” Diego flashed.
Luther stifled a sigh. Talking to Diego like this was like talking to a brick wall; actually he may have more luck trying to persuade a brick wall than he did his brother. Nothing was going to change that, especially not helping him with something that Diego clearly would’ve rather dealt with himself.
“Okay,” Luther muttered after a moment, gauze at the ready as he reached over to grab the hilt of the knife, taking in a couple deliberate deep breaths in through his nose. “One three...okay?”
Diego fought not to brace his muscles, making it that much worse in the long run. He had dealt with devastating injuries countless times before and without help. It didn’t always go perfectly, but at least he knew he could still rely on himself.
“One...two....three!”
Luther swiftly pulled the blade free while Diego let out a cry of sheer agony. It took all of his strength not to pitch over the side of the couch and vomit or succumb to the pain and lose consciousness. All he could do was grit his teeth together to keep himself quiet so not to disturb the rest of the household.
Once the blade was removed, Luther began to press the gauze on both sides of the wound to stop the bleeding. Losing too much would mean either a one way trip to the nearest ER, or down to the infirmary where Grace would be called and the rest of the siblings would fuss. Neither one was entirely pleasant to Diego, Luther knew, so he tried his best to do what he could.
Diego suddenly lifted his arm back up to his mouth and bit down hard. The pain from his arm momentarily distracted him from the stabbing feeling in his shoulder, though only slightly. He tasted salty blood in his mouth, skin tearing on his canines. He hadn’t meant to go that deep, but the pain was unimaginable.
Luther continued to press on the wound, using more and more gauze to contain the bleeding. He chose not to comment on Diego bitting in his flesh, knowing that would only bring forth an argument that he was too tired to be bothered with.
When Luther finally had some control over the bleeding, he doused the wound to clean it, watching blood and alcohol mix and trail down Diego’s sweater.
Diego kept his arm in his mouth, no longer sinking his teeth deep, but certainly not able to pull back, not yet. The stitching of the wound would be next, and that brought the prospect of even more pain that Diego would be helpless to control. Luther could only imagine that pain that Diego was in.
“Not much longer.” Luther honestly wasn’t sure if that was true, but he wanted to give Diego at least some hope that the light at the end of the tunnel was near.
Diego finally dropped his arm from his mouth, noticing a few specks of blood left on his skin. He ignored it and looked to Luther. “Just hurry it up.”
Luther did as Diego requested while still maintaining a proper technique as he began to stitch his shoulder, bringing the flesh back together where the knife had practically shredded it. It was more torn than Luther expected, but still he was able to preform adequately and close him up. He then pressed more gauze over the closed wounds and wrapped them in a bandage. A shoulder would be difficult for the bandage to stay situated considering that it rolled on a joint and was used for most movements in the arm. Luther momentarily pondered the idea of offering Diego a sling to use, but he knew that his brother would refuse it.
“There, that’s as good as I can get it. Maybe Mom could—“
“No!” Fire suddenly lit in Diego’s eyes. “We don’t need to involve Mom. I’m sure you did fine.”
That was one of the best compliments that Luther could remember Diego ever giving him. It took everything he had not to ask his brother to repeat it just so that he could hear it again.
“I’m not sure that I would go that far, but at least there’s no risk of you bleeding out. Now, let me see your arm,” Luther instructed, hand reaching out to take Diego’s forearm in his own.
Diego drew away violently, head shaking. “It’s fine. It’s just a scratch.”
‘A scratch that you inflicted on your own,’ Luther wanted to point out. He stopped himself at the last moment, knowing it would cause an argument.
“If you say so.”
Diego gave his head a small shake and slowly rose to his feet. He slightly jarred his shoulder and it took all of his strength not to let out a fierce gasp. He cast one more look to Luther, appearing like he wanted to say something, before disappearing back into the darkness that he came without another word.
Luther was used to it and didn’t take it personally. He was left to clean up the mess as his brother left, which reminded him of when that he happened the first time when they were still teenagers.
Shaking his head, Luther rid himself of those thoughts. They would get him nowhere, and do him nothing. But, now wasn’t the time to ponder it. There would be time for that later, but for now he knew he had done the right thing for Diego and that would help him sleep a little easier for the rest of the night.