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This was starting to become a routine at this point, which was not exactly helping Leonard sleep.
They would go to their classes, or, in Jim’s case, just as many classes as he was required to go to so as not to get kicked out. They would get home, and spend some time studying, until Jim would stand up from the table with that smile that meant trouble was coming, and say, “I think that’s enough studying for tonight, Bones. Let’s go have some fun.” Leonard would give in eventually, he couldn’t seem to resist Jim’s pleading eyes. He didn’t know why. Every time he agreed, they ended up in trouble, either fighting back to back in some dark alley, or running away down some other dark alley, Jim laughing giddily next to him.
It always seemed to involve dark alleys.
Huh.
Maybe he should make a rule that wherever they went had to be somewhere with no alleys around. Not that it would help them tonight. They were already past the run-through-the-alley stage and on to the make-their-slow-painful-way-home part. As much as Leonard loved routines, he wasn’t a big fan of this part, where Jim was leaning heavily on his shoulder, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, his eyes starting to glaze over. This part was bad. They hadn’t had a night this bad in a long time, and Leonard had been hoping that this part of the routine, at least, had been discarded.
As they entered their rooms, Jim heaved himself off of his shoulder, and began weaving his way towards his bedroom. If Leonard didn’t know better, he would have said his roommate was only drunk, but Jim had only had one glass that night, and it took far more than that to affect the man. “Hey, Bones.” Jim asked, his voice slurring worryingly. “Why is the room spinning?”
Leonard sighed.
Rolled his eyes.
Complained to the heavens about not asking for this.
And then walked forward, grabbed Jim’s arm, and dragged him to a seat. The fact that that even worked was worrying. Jim must be worse off than he had thought. On a good day, he couldn’t even budge the younger man. Jim collapsed heavily into the chair, reaching out into space, seemingly trying to touch his face. “Whoa. You’re spinning too, Bones.”
Leonard ignored him, choosing instead to prod at the bruise rapidly growing along Jim’s hairline. “Ow!” Jim complained, pulling away and nearly toppling out of the chair. Only a quick grab by the doctor saved him from worsening his injuries.
“Hold still, Jim. You’re only going to hurt yourself worse.” He resettled Jim in the chair, muttering under his breath.
“Hey! You’re not old. You shouldn’t say stuff like that about yourself. It’s not nice.” Jim’s slur was not improving, although his hearing clearly had not been affected.
“Thanks, Kid.” Leonard huffed. Stepping back slightly, he simply observed for a moment, watching Jim struggled to remain upright. “How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, not really expecting Jim to answer him. He wasn’t even holding up any fingers! He was mostly just surprised the kid was still conscious. He knew if he had been in Jim's place, he would have passed out a long time ago.
But somehow, Jim was still functioning, and he squinted gamely, trying to make out the answer. “Twelve. No! Sixteen!” He announced proudly, then screwed his eyes shut, hand going to his head. “Ow.” He said, his voice morphing from his usual confident facade to the pained voice of a young man out of his depth and in serious pain. “Why does it hurt so much, Bones? Make it stop.” He pleaded, and Leonard’s heart nearly broke.
“Alright, that’s it. You’re going to bed. Come on.” He pulled Jim to his feet, slinging his arm across his shoulders to keep him upright. He led him towards the bedrooms, ignoring the drool gathering on his shoulder and the tears dripping down his neck. He knew most of it was the head injury, and Jim was in no danger, but he couldn’t help the feeling of protectiveness welling up in him. He got Jim settled into his bed, and didn’t even try to fight it when the kid refused to let him go, settling himself on the mattress next to him. He told himself it was better this way, because then if Jim needed him in the night, he was already there, but a little part of him that he couldn’t ignore pointed out that he needed the comfort as much as Jim.
And when he woke with a start a few hours later, heart pounding from a nightmare he could remember all too well, he was able to reassure himself that Jim was still there. Bruised, a little bloody and broken, but still with him.
And if checking in on Jim in the middle of the night became a new routine, no one else would ever know.