Chapter Text
It had only been a few days since Crush had found Cherie in that alley. Delle had already taken care of the wounds left by Sodam and Crush would be lying if he said getting to be the center of High Off Pain Meds Cherie’s attention wasn't fun. But at the same time, Crush was worried. It hadn't even been a week since and Cherie was insisting he could move around again, claiming he was going to go crazy if he kept lying in bed all day. Why Delle thought deeming Cherie well enough to let Crush watch him was a million dollar question, but at least he had his boyfriend back.
Him and Cherie had adopted a dog not long after Sodam's wedding. Cherie found a stray puppy outside his apartment building, bringing her home and insisting they kept her. She was a Bernese Mountain dog, already twice as big after the two months they had her. Cherie still lived in a separate apartment since they were trying to not draw any more attention from Chohan, but Crush had a feeling that this - Sodam's attack, Delle releasing Cherie to Crush - was going to get it anyways.
Crush had been on a mission close by - time doesn't stop, though it felt like it did when he found the love of his life nearly unresponsive. Now that he was headed home, his head was clouded with worry and excitement. It had only been a couple days and they had been texting constantly, checking in on one another every hour or so, but he also knew Cherie had a tendency to try and handle things on his own.
It was because of this, Crush reasoned with himself, that he was so worried that something happened. Maybe it was because the last time he left Cherie, he was hurt by someone out to hurt Crush. Maybe it was the unanswered messages he had sent. Either way, his stomach churned as he walked up the steps of Cherie’s apartment building.
Opening the door to Cherie’s apartment, he silently scolded the other for not locking it after something that almost ended his life. Instead, he takes note of the TV playing quietly, the kitchen light being on, the shut doors. It seemed like Cherie had been moving around at the very least, but he always turned off a room light when he wasn’t in there. Looking at the counter, he notices what looks like the start of dinner, and a spill on the ground. That makes him worry more.
“Cherie~” he sings, walking into the living room and noting the space’s tidy interior. No sign of Cherie though. Could he be in his room? Maybe he’s changing. He hears Berry's high pitch bark and he wonders if he's overreacting.
He moves down the hall, hating the way his instincts sharpen with the adrenaline flooding his veins. It feels the same as when he was on a job, making him hate the feeling and shake his right wrist out on impulse. He's at his boyfriend's apartment, for crying out loud. Cherie probably just fell asleep when he went to get something in his room.
Crush pushes a breath through his nose, opening the door. Later, he would be mad at himself for doing that, but right now, all he cared about was making sure Cherie was okay. Crush scans the room, moving into it slowly. “Cherie?” He calls out again, trying his best to ignore the incline of his heart rate.
He notices Cherie’s phone on the bed and moves. Picking it up, Crush sees an unsent message to him. "I'm gonna wash Berry," it read. "I spilled stuff on her fur."
He turns to the bathroom as a little whine comes from behind its door. “Berry, are you in there?” Crush calls, and hears a bark and the tapping of nails on tile in response. He smiles for a fleeting moment before he hears the quiet whimper lower to the ground between Berry's excitement. “Cherie?”
Crush hears a sharp intake of breath, shallow and shaking, and kneels down at the doorknob. He tries to sort through the rush of his thoughts to remember how to pick the lock. "Crush?" Cherie called out. "D-don't come in here, there's - hah - there's a lot of blood."
Crush feels his throat close up.
"What do you mean?" he asks, jiggling the knob uselessly. "Cherie, unlock the door."
"I- can't really do that at the moment, love," he says, words slurring at the edges. "Can't really move at- all.”
Crush swears under his breath, noticing the signs of heavy blood loss within his boyfriend's noises and words. “You're gonna be okay, Cherie,” He pulls a pin out of one pocket and his phone out of another, unlocking it and moving to Delle’s phone number. He quickly sends her the location of the apartment and drops it in favor of working the lock. “Can you tell me what happened?”
No response.
The only indicator that Cherie was still alive was the shallow pants from the other side of the door. Berry whines again and Crush tries as hard as he can to keep his breath from matching the pace coming from the other side of the door, a low rumble beginning in his ears. He stops hearing much past the sounds of his boyfriend dying for the second time in a week.
He finally heard the click of the lock, standing up and yanking the door open with shaking hands. Laying on the cream tiles is Cherie. He was pale, blood coating his hands and trailing down his back. He looked up at Crush with an almost overwhelming panic as his hands weakly tried to put pressure on his side.
Crush sees the strands of black between the red and realizes his stitches had torn. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters. He lunges for the sink cabinet, reaching blindly for the first aid kit kept there. Cherie had stocked it with extras and things they might need thanks to their job and Crush thanked everything he could think of for it as he opened it and found a sterile needle and some thread.
"It's okay," Cherie mumbles as Crush turns back to him, gently moving his hands from the gash and turning him so his side is facing up. "It's not as bad as…it looks."
Crush lets out a strangled laugh as he stares at the blood pooling around Cherie, trying his best to be calm. “You look dead,” He says, failing to make it sound like a joke. He grabs a gauze pad, trying to wipe away some of the blood and pushing some down in the wound to stop the dulling of Cherie’s eyes. “How long have you been laying here?”
“Mmm, like, twenty m-inutes?” Cherie says, eyes slipping closed.
Crush gently takes his boyfriend’s hand. Twenty minutes wasn’t good. “Please keep your eyes open,” He begs, watching as Cherie slowly opens them again. “I know you’re tired, but you have to stay awake.”
“M’kay,” Cherie looks at the blood staining where the two were joined. “Sorry I’m bleeding all over you.”
“Don’t worry about that, what matters is you’re still here to do it,” Crush whispers. He faces the wound and takes the gauze out as carefully as he can with shaking hands. The bleeding had slowed down some. He takes the – mercifully pre-threaded – needle and squeezes Cherie’s hand before letting go. “This is going to hurt and I’m sorry.”
The first stitch makes him want to break down.
Needle sinks through skin and Cherie tenses, his whole body rigid as a sob leaves his lips. He grabs at Crush’s thigh, nails digging in. Crush whispers quiet apologies as each stitch pulls through, throat dry as he swallows to avoid the tears in his eyes. Slowly the long slash in Cherie’s side is closed once again, a strangled cry coming from his throat as Crush pulls the stitches tight.
He wipes around the stitches carefully with an anti-septic wipe before peeling off one glove and rubbing his hand up and down Cherie’s arm.
“I’m done, I’m sorry.” He closes the first aid kit, placing it back in the cabinet and grabbing a wet cloth to try and mop up some of the blood on the tiles.
“I was m-making dinner,” Cherie says suddenly. Crush looks at him, meeting his eyes as Cherie answers the question Crush felt like he had asked a lifetime ago. “I…I knew you would be home soon and I wanted to surprise you. I spilled some dressing on Berry and I wanted to get it off of her before it dried. I went to lift her into the bath and she flailed.”
His words slowly sink into Crush’s thoughts. “Did she kick your stitches open?”
“Only a bit,” Cherie explains, voice still weak but the stutters from the pain dwindling as he looks at the blood on Crush’s arms. “I felt a couple give way, but it hurt so bad and her flailing knocked me down. I felt the rest pull free and I just..”
Crush takes Cherie’s hands, rubbing calloused thumbs over scarred knuckles. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” He whispers.
“It’s fine, you still saved my ass again,” Cherie smiles. Crush chuckles at the tone he uses. “I left my phone in my room because Berry was getting into something, and I forgot it.”
Crush doesn’t say anything for a moment, unable to form a sentence he thought was worthwhile. He hears the front door open and the adrenaline begins again until he hears Delle’s voice. “Crush? Cherie?” She calls, sounding worried.
“We’re in here,” Crush answers, listening as her steps come closer. He doesn’t look at her as she comes in, but he hears the quiet gasp. “I stitched it shut again.”
“What the hell happened?” She asks, moving to check Cherie’s pulse and blood pressure. She checks the stitches while Cherie repeats what he had told Crush, never letting go of his partner’s hand. They meet eyes while Delle searches for any more injuries and calls for an ambulance. The panic was still rushing through Crush’s body, his chest tight and burning, but he felt Cherie squeeze his hand and knew that it would be alright.