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“I thought you’d fuckin’ died!” Lemon half-yelled at his partner-in-crime as he threaded a sterilised needle through the skin of his neck to stitch up his bullet wound.
“I thought you’d fuckin’ died, Bro!” Tangerine huffed, flicking him on the bicep and glaring at him. “Like I gave you my necklace an’ everything.”
Lemon hummed and bit back a smile. “I know. Very sweet of you.” He focused on closing the wound in Tangerine’s neck and tried not to think about the fact that his soulmate had come very close to no longer being here with him.
Seems instead of dying from a bullet wound to the neck, Tangerine had just suffered a grazing neck wound, but it had caused quite a bit of blood loss. That along with how fucking beat up he’d been from the multiple fights and punching and headbutting his way through the train’s fucking back window, had meant that the moustached man had fallen unconscious and his pulse had been thready enough not to be picked up by any of them in the panic.
While Lemon and the homeless-looking white dude who’d shot both of them, and the badass guy with a sword cane and his son (who Lemon had shot…there really had been a more than average amount of shooting for a train ride that was for sure), had been busy coming up with a plan to take down The White Death, Tangerine had woken up at some point and then had promptly pretended to play dead when he’d seen all the guys in masks around.
He'd managed to chuck himself out the train into the water just after Lemon had, but had been too exhausted to call out to him.
Lemon had knocked that little pink, fake-crying bitch down with his Tangerine-decorated mini truck, and then driving down the road he’d almost crashed when he’d seen a bloody and crumpled form of his beautiful, sweary asshole of a partner on the side of the road.
He’d scooped him up and then they’d found a motel somewhere where they wouldn’t look too closely at how much blood was on their clothes, and he’d stripped off what remained of Tangerine’s suit until he was sat on the closed toilet seat in just his boxer briefs, and Lemon was playing nurse.
“And I gave you a Thomas sticker.”
Tangerine’s mouth flickered into a brief smile. “Sorry I got it all bloody and lost it somewhere.”
Lemon pressed a soft kiss to his sweaty and blood-matted curls. “It’s okay, Baby. I’d rather have you alive than the sticker.”
“I’m more important than Thomas the fucking Tank Engine?” Tangerine gasped somewhat over-dramatically if you asked Lemon.
He just rolled his eyes as he tied off the stitch and cleaned the skin around it with an antiseptic wipe. “I didn’t fucking marry Thomas the Tank Engine, now did I, Dickhead?”
“Such a sweet talker you are.” Tangerine brushed his fingertips over Lemon’s chest—which was no longer covered by his shirt or his Kevlar vest—the chain of his own necklace that he’d given to Lemon, tinkling as he moved it. “I’m glad you wore the vest.”
“I was right though, doesn’t help if you get shot in the fuckin’ neck.”
Tangerine huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “No, it does not. What a day, huh?”
“At least we no longer have to deal with The White Death or his stupid daughter anymore. Diesels those two, I fucking knew it.”
“You’re like a weird train-obsessed sniffer hound that can sniff out what someone’s like based on fucking characters from a kids tv show.”
“That’s very specific.”
“I nearly bled to death, love. Give me a fuckin’ break.” Tangerine sighed, carding a slightly trembling hand through his hair and grimacing when his fingers caught on the matted and knotted strands.
Lemon slotted himself in between Tangerine’s spread legs and gently pulled his head to rest on his stomach. “I’m sorry. I’m so glad you’re alive, Baby.”
Tangerine nuzzled his face against Lemon’s belly, and pressed a soft kiss just to the side of his bellybutton. “Yeah me too. I didn’t mind almost dying when I thought I’d already lost you, but I’m glad both of us survived.”
“You gonna be okay to shower?”
“Stay with me, just sit on the toilet or something and stick around in case I decide to go ass over tit?”
Lemon chuckled and squeezed the nape of his neck. “Sure, Baby.”
He let the other man go and helped him to his feet. Tangerine pushed his boxer briefs off his hips, and then stepped into the shower. Lemon splashed his face in the sink and wiped at the back of his neck, and then plonked down on the toilet seat to keep watch as his husband showered.
He smiled to himself when he heard Tangerine sing some Beatles song to himself, and let out a sigh of relief, because if his husband was singing the Beatles, then he was okay.
He handed Tangerine a towel some ten minutes later, and grinned at how squeaky clean and flushed he looked. The other man flipped him off, because he knew what Lemon was thinking, and then he watched Tangerine wander into the bedroom and flop down face first onto the bed.
Lemon took his own quick shower, and then wrapping a towel round his waist, he padded in to go sit on the bed. “You should have this back.” He nudged Tangerine’s side with his foot and jangled the necklace in his direction.
Tangerine moved his face so he was looking his way and shook his head. “Nah. Prefer it on you.”
“This some latent romance shit you’re trying five years after our wedding?”
“Fuck off. I’m romantic.” Lemon just looked at him with a raise eyebrow. “Killing people together is romantic.”
“You are deranged and lucky I love your dumb ass.” Tangerine just grinned all smug and fluttered his eyelashes. “Get up here, Idiot.”
“What happened to Baby?”
“What happened to Bro?”
Tangerine shrugged. “S’just for missions innit. Don’t want them to know how much I love you.”
Lemon’s heart squeezed in his chest as his husband grumbled and wiggled his way up the bed like a disgruntled kitten; his towel barely clinging on to the swell of his ass. Not that Lemon minded the view.
He turned Tangerine on his side and laid down behind him, curling around his back and resting a hand against his belly. He pressed a kiss to Tangerine’s neck and made sure to mind the stitched up wound that was bound to scar.
“It’ll look sexy right?” Tangerine murmured into the pillows.
Lemon laughed softly and just hugged his husband close; aware he was clinging to him but still not fully over having nearly lost him. “Yeah, Baby. It’s on you. Of course it’ll be sexy.”
They fell asleep wrapped up together, and the last thought Lemon had before sleep claimed him was that even doing mundane things like cleaning wounds, or cuddling in bed; there’s no other person he’d rather do those things with than his Tangerine.
Even if the asshole still wouldn’t watch Thomas the Tank Engine with him.