Work Text:
Gavin was shot. The details behind it were pretty sketchy; something about a cop getting the one up on them, and a shotgun shell gone awry. Geoff was the only one around when it happened, and he was pretty damn tight lipped about the whole thing. Not that any of the crew blamed him. Oh sure, the heist was successful, despite all the hitches. They got away with over a million in hard cash. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that despite all their promises, and Geoff's personal oath to watch out for the Brit, Gavin got hurt. He had a bloody hole in his shoulder, like a nasty piercing gone wrong, and now they were all going to face the consequences.
Ryan was going to fucking murder them.
"Fuck fuck fuuuuck," Michael hissed, staring at their mangled hacker on the couch, half unconscious and writhing in agony as Jack worked on getting the bullet shrapnel out of his shoulder. "He's going to EAT us. We are so dead!"
Nobody needed confirmation on who he was. It was pretty goddamn obvious, especially after the doors to their communal living space slammed open and Ryan stormed inside, right on time to witness Gavin's pained whimper as the last metal fragment was tugged free with a thick sludge of dark red blood. Ryan wasn't wearing his mask, so they all got a clear view of the cold fury on his face once he spotted his boyfriend. His smudged facepaint just made it that more terrifying.
He didn't waste a moment. Ryan crossed the room faster than any of the crew could blink and had Gavin's chin cupped in his hand, tilting the Brit's head back with a gentleness that defied his demeanor. "Are you alright?" Jack was all but dislodged from the couch as Ryan crowded the space with his own girth and cupped the back of Gavin's neck. "Gavin, talk to me. Say something."
"...Rye?" His eyes were foggy, and his tongue heavy, but Gavin put on a grin and leaned into the tender support of Ryan's hand. "Sorry...I'm all spacey. Jack gave me something for the-for the pain?" He directed the last part at the redhead, who nodded and moved out of the way. Worried instincts or not, Jack wasn't stupid enough to get in the way of the two lovebirds. And despite whatever drugs he'd been given, Gavin wasn't looking good. At this point, nobody wanted to antagonize Ryan further.
Well. Except maybe for Geoff.
"It was an accident. The fucking cops took a shot at him through the windshield." Geoff knocked back a hit of scotch like it was water, pouring himself a double next. "But Gav and I got them back. Didn't we dude? They're fucking dead as dicks. Mowed them down like dogs." Geoff saluted the Brit, a cheerful grin all but plastered to his face. "That's what they get for hurting our twink."
Michael and Ray shot each other looks behind their leader's back, though Geoff didn't notice. He had eyes only for Ryan, and Gavin, who met his gaze and gave a weak thumbs up. But the mercenary wasn't so easily pacified. Geoff knew that. He SAW it, putting both tattooed hands up in the air. "It was an accident man. There was nothing we could've done."
"Nothing?" The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, and with it went Ryan's mood. Every member of the crew felt it. Even Ray tensed up, and he was the most relaxed out of them all. "You couldn't do anything? How about what you promised me Geoff? Was that so damn hard?"
"Ryan..." It was Gavin that tried to pacify him, reaching out, but Ryan was off the couch and hurtling towards Geoff with all the churning rage of a winter storm. In a split second he had the crime boss pinned against the wall, his glass of scotch smashing to bits on the floor. Liquor splashed everywhere, hitting Ryan's boots as he crunched over the glass and hoisted Geoff into the air, choking off his shout.
"You promised me nothing would happen to him. You PROMISED me Geoff!" Ryan snarled, digging his fingertips into Geoff's throat. "I was counting on you to look out for him, and look what happened!! Is this how you take care of your crew?"
Shouts rang out through the room, everyone staring in horror at the mercenary throttling their boss. But while Michael and Jack rushed at Ryan, it was Gavin who got him to listen. His breathless "Love," cut through the panic in the room, and Ryan's head jerked around, his blue eyes widening beneath the smeared makeup as Gavin left the couch in a stumbling mess and came towards him. "Ryan, love...please. It's not Geoff's fault."
"Gav-"
Geoff cut himself off with a pained grunt, Ryan all but tossing him to the floor in his haste to get to the Brit's side. Gavin barely made it a half dozen steps by the time Ryan got there, and he immediately collapsed into his arms, a shaky hand pressed to his crimson soaked shoulder. "Don't be angry at him? The cops are mingy little pricks Rye, not Geoff. He didn't do this."
The mercenary's jaw clenched. "You're bleeding too much. We need to get you patched up." Concern seeped through his tone, if not the hard lines of Ryan's face. Scooping Gavin up like he weighed no more than a feather, Ryan held him close and shot the crew a frigid glare, ignoring his lover's unhappy squawks. "I'm taking Gavin upstairs. If I see any one of you following us, you won't live long enough to regret it."
Gavin's complaints and pleading followed the two of them out of the room, leaving the rest of the crew to stare after their retreating backs. Geoff massaged his aching neck and let Jack help him to his feet, while Michael nervously flitted between eyeing the door and muttering an impressive array of swears under his breath. Only Ray appeared calm, reclaiming his spot on the couch, apparently unconcerned by the bloodstains from Gavin's wound. Or by two of their best storming out, however unwilling one was. When the crew all looked at him, he deadpanned. "What? You heard him. This is no time for waffle-o." Ray shrugged, relaxing against the cushions. "Ryan's pretty pissed. Give him some space. He's gotta fawn over Vav for a while, prove to himself he's not dying. Then he'll come back."
"Yeah," Geoff muttered, frowning at the vacant doorway. Above the collar of his dress shirt bruises were already peeking out, each in the shape of Ryan's fingers. They matched the shadows lingering in his now perfectly alert gaze. "That's what I'm fucking worried about."