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The lock on the door gave way in a shower of splintering wood and Oskar crashed into the room, nearly stumbling. Max tried to cry out, to warn him, but the filthy rag in his mouth kept any sound he would have made fully contained. Brüning waited at the door until Oskar crossed the threshold, and then he swung the baton down toward Oskar’s unprotected head; it was only that small stumble that saved him, putting his head further down than Brüning expected. The baton caught Oskar’s shoulder, and with a grunt, he spun around and grasped the man’s wrist in one strong hand, twisting them both around until Brüning slammed into the wall with a cry. Oskar growled something into the man’s ear, then reached up with his other hand to get a full grip of Brüning’s filthy, lanky hair, using it as a handle to smash the man’s face into the wall hard, once, twice, three times.
“Inspector!” Haussmann was suddenly in the room, his hand on Oskar’s shoulder.
Oskar froze, then Max watched his whole body language shift. Even gagged, beaten, and tied to a pipe in the filthy basement of a condemned house, Max found it fascinating the way he could almost see Oskar pulling his anger inward and turning from a vengeful warrior into an upstanding police officer. It wasn’t the first time this particular transformation had happened in Max’s presence; Max being in danger seemed to bring out his inspector’s protective side. The analytical side of Max was fascinated; the larger part of him was just incredibly grateful that Oskar had found him in time.
“Get him out of here,” Oskar growled, releasing a bloody and bruised Brüning to Haussmann.
Max made a sound and Oskar quickly crossing the room to kneel before him, his eyes full of concern. He first removed the makeshift gag, his strong fingers gentle as he pulled the fabric from Max’s mouth. As soon as he could, Max took a deep breath through his mouth, practically gasping for air. “Oskar,” he said, embarrassed at how weak his voice was.
“I’ve got you now, Max, please, don’t speak,” he said, keeping his voice low as his fingers carefully probed at Max’s scalp and his neck. “Are you injured at all?”
Max shook his head, then winced as it aggravated the bump he had hoped to hide from Oskar. “A little,” he said. At Oskar’s hard look he sighed. “Quite a lot, actually,” he finally admitted.
The muscle in Oskar’s cheek jumped as he clenched his teeth. Instead of saying anything else, he pulled out a pocket knife and cut away the ropes that bound Max’s wrists and then his ankles. Once Max was free, Oskar stood and stripped off his coat, then slung it around Max’s shoulders. The wool was warm from his body heat, and smelled like Oskar: coffee beans and cheap soap, with a slight sour tinge of fear and and the coppery odor of blood. Max closed his eyes and breathed it in, letting the familiar scents surround him and comfort him, to block out, even temporarily, the filthy, stinking basement where he’d been for the last twelve hours.
Oskar went down to one knee and wrapped his arm around Max’s shoulders, then stood, levering Max upright. Knees still weak from lack of food and water and hours spent in one position, Max nearly stumbled, and Oskar’s other arm came round him in a strong hug, keeping him from falling. “I have you, liebling, I have you,” Oskar said, breathing the unexpected endearment into Max’s ear. Max shivered. “Come on, there is a carriage waiting to take you to the hospital.”
Max leaned heavily on Oskar as they limped out of the room, past a shackled Brüning, whose nose, Max observed with some satisfaction, was most certainly broken. As soon as they made it up to the ground floor, several uniformed officers headed downstairs, while others tried to get their inspector’s attention. Oskar ignored them all, instead hustling Max into the waiting carriage and climbing in after him. He slapped his hand on the ceiling of the cab, and the driver took off.
Max winced as the quick movement jolted him, tossing him back against the barely padded seat. Oskar frowned and put his arm back around Max, using his arm as a buffer between Max’s bruised body and the carriage. Max closed his eyes and leaned against Oskar, who stiffened at the initial touch, then slowly relaxed as Max’s head came to rest on his shoulder.
After a long, silent moment, Oskar spoke. “What happened, Max? I thought you were going to your parents’ house.”
“Brüning was waiting outside my office,” Max murmured, his voice soft. “I didn’t see him, and he hit me—probably with the same baton he tried to use on you, Inspector. When I woke up, I was here, tied up just as you found me.” He swallowed. “Thank you for rescuing me, Oskar,” he added, voice shaking. “He’s a true madman, nothing there to reason with. He told me what he planned to do to me—and then to you, when you came for me. It was… It was unpleasant,” he said, grimacing in the dark.
Oskar sighed and threaded his fingers through Max’s hair, careful of the bump on his scalp. “Working with you is never dull, Doctor,” he murmured.
Max groaned as the carriage went over bump and tossed them both in the air. Oskar squeezed him tighter, pulling him up against his side, and Max was suddenly reminded of something he’d nearly forgotten. “In the basement, you… you called me liebling,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Oskar suddenly stiffened, and began to pull away. “I’m sorry, Max I didn’t mean—”
“No!” Max exclaimed, grabbing blindly for Oskar’s jacket before the man managed to scoot all the way out of his grasp. He stared into the other man’s face, seeing fear and something else in those shadowed eyes. “I rather— I rather liked it, honestly,” he admitted.
Oskar’s mouth dropped open in a very uncharacteristic expression of astonishment. “You—” He closed his mouth and shook his head, lips turned up in a wry smile. “You are full of surprises.” He paused, then deliberately reached up to touch the hair at Max’s temple. “Liebling.”
Max closed his eyes and let out a ragged exhale, leaning forward until his forehead touched Oskar’s. “Kiss me?” he whispered.
“Max,” Oskar breathed, then warm lips caressed Max’s own, soft and slightly damp and surrounded by a prickle of surprisingly soft hair. Before he had a chance to deepen the kiss, Oskar pulled back, leaving Max feeling suddenly bereft. “We’re almost at the hospital. Let’s get your wounds seen to, then I need to take your statement.”
Max nodded, realizing as he did so that his body was one giant ache and that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. “Of course. And perhaps something to eat.”
“Of course,” Oskar agreed. “And then we can talk about…” he cleared his throat as the carriage began to slow. “Talk about this,” he said, dragging his fingers down the side of Max’s face, careful of the dried blood and bruises. “Alright?”
Max smiled, his heart feeling lighter even though his body was battered. “I'll hold you to that, Inspector.”