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Adam had just finished making dinner when Lawrence got home, and he jumped slightly when he heard the key turn in the lock. Switching off the hob, he left the kitchen and walked out to the front door to greet the man like he usually did. He was used to Lawrence’s long hours in the hospital, but on days when hospital work overlapped with Jigsaw work, he got more than a little antsy waiting around for the man to come home.
Lawrence smiled weakly when he saw him, and dropped his bag to the floor where it fell against the wall, where their shoes sat together.
“Hello, dear.”
Adam reached up to loosen the man’s scarf, ignoring the specs of blood on the shirt collar underneath it and lifting it off over his head, going up onto the balls of his feet to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Hey. Long day?”
Lawrence groaned, and nodded, shrugging his coat off and hanging it up on the coat rack. “Too long, my leg is damn near killing me.”
Adam nodded and went to fetch his crutches, handing them to the man so that he could lean on them while Adam rolled up his pant leg and removed his prosthetic as efficiently as possible, pressing a little kiss to his knee before allowing the fabric to slip back down. He put it on the couch before returning to Lawrence, allowing the man to kiss the top of his head. “I made pasta, it should still be hot.”
Lawrence allowed Adam to lead him to the bathroom, where Adam carefully scrubbed the dried blood out from under his nails, trying not to think too hard about where it might have come from. Adam didn’t ask, Lawrence didn’t tell, for the most part, and that worked just fine for them. The few jobs that Adam did for John, he kept to himself too. They both knew that what they did- what they had to do- was unsavoury, but it had become a surprisingly mundane part of life in the months since they had escaped the hellhole that had brought them together.
Lawrence limped into the kitchen, sinking into the seat at the table while Adam plated him up some dinner, pouring him a glass of water to go with it. Lawrence ate quickly, and Adam assumed that he hadn’t gotten the chance to eat throughout the day- or that he hadn’t had the stomach for it. Either way, Adam was glad to see him eating now.
He thanked him quietly as he brought his own plate to the sink, and Adam fiddled with the sleeve of the jumper he had stolen, picking at the unraveling seam. He watched him methodically clean it and slot it into the drying rack, his heart squeezing at the familiar pinched expression on his face- eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed thin as he leaned on his crutches. Adam knew that if he were facing him, his eyes would have that stubborn, focused look that he had when he was stressed, or over tired- he got the urge to smooth out his forehead, to press a kiss on the bridge of his nose.
Lawrence turned, and Adam stood to walk across the kitchen to him, smoothly replacing one of the crutches and sliding Lawrence’s arm around his neck, allowing the man to lean on him slightly. Lawrence turned his head and Adam felt his lips press against his hair, and he tilted his head into it, smiling softly.
“Bed or couch?”
Lawrence seemed to think about it for a moment, and Adam could imagine the way his mouth would twist in thought, his chest warming at the picture. God, he was fucking disgusting .
“I need to change, but… then the couch, we could watch more of that dreadful show if you want?”
Adam grinned- Lawrence had taken the existence of Grey’s Anatomy as a personal offense, and spent almost every episode dropping snide remarks and muttering under his breath, scoffing and rolling his eyes. Adam, unfortunately, found it incredibly endearing.
He flicked the light on in the bedroom before abandoning Lawrence to sit on the bed, crossing his legs and tucking his feet up under him. Lawrence seemed to realise that Adam was fully intending on watching him change, and he rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a mottled pink. Still, it had the desired effect, and Adam watched the last of the tension drain from his shoulders as he shot Adam an exasperated smile.
“Do you have to?”
“Oh, I really do.” Adam laughed softly. “I’m a simple man. What am I supposed to do, not watch my hot doctor boyfriend change?”
Lawrence snorted then, and satisfaction sat warm in Adam’s mind. Lawrence had been laughing more and more the further away they had gotten from everything, but Adam still felt triumphant every time. He watched Lawrence unbutton his shirt, eyes lingering on the softness of his stomach, the way his hands tugged gently at the fabric until he was able to shrug it off and toss it to the side. He fought the urge to wolf whistle- but it was a close call. Lawrence did the same with his trousers, and Adam moved then, taking the garment from his hand and stretching up to kiss the man soundly, dropping the pants to the floor and bringing his hands up to cup Lawrence’s jaw and pull his face down towards him. Lawrence let out a soft mmph of surprise, before leaning down into the kiss and curling his hand in the fabric of Adam’s jumper- well, Lawrence’s really. Adam allowed himself another couple of seconds, before reluctantly pulling back and pressing another chaste kiss to his lips, and pulling back to catch the slightly dazed, awed look in Lawrence’s eyes.
Smugness leaked into his smile. He had done that.
Adam reached across to their shared closet, pulling out a soft and worn t-shirt and handing it to the man. It was an old band shirt, faded from time, some old rock band that Lawrence had gone to see in his youth. Adam loved it. Lawrence pulled it on over his head, and then grabbed a pair of pyjama pants, pulling them on too with a little bit of help.
They made their way out to the couch, and Adam triggered the recliner so that Lawrence could lie back properly, before grabbing drinks from the kitchen and settling in beside him, his head resting happily on Lawrence’s shoulder as he turned the screen on, finding where they had left off and pressing play.
True to form, it wasn’t even a few full minutes before Lawrence was complaining again, his voice almost pained from how affronted he was at the ‘rampant medical malpractice’ he was witnessing. Adam just smiled and turned his head to press his lips to the man’s shoulder.
“They’re breaking the sterile field, Adam, this is ridiculous -”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s unrealistic, nobody cares about your sexual escapades, you’re in the middle of open heart surgery for Christ’s sakes!”
Adam practically giggled, and he watched Lawrence’s outraged expression soften into fondness. He flushed slightly, and then snuggled into him more. “They’re the brightest doctors in the country, Larry.”
“Then God help us all.” His eyes watched the screen again for a couple of seconds, and then his brows pinched together again, his mouth falling open. “The patient would have been dead a dozen times over by now!”
Adam watched him, allowing the combination of his comfort show, the warmth of the apartment and the woody, masculine scent of the man beside him lull him into a happy dreamlike state, splattered collars and bloody fingernails all but forgotten. He felt Lawrence reposition him so that his head rested on his lap, and he hummed in appreciation as he felt the man’s hand slot into his hair, scratching his scalp slightly.
Some days, on his worse days, when the pull of the bathroom was too strong, the phantom pain of that shackle around his damn ankle too persistent, he wished that it had never happened- that he had never said yes to that damned detective, never crossed paths with John Kramer. He could have gone on sleepwalking through life, eaten way too much takeout and died an overwhelmingly unremarkable death, lived a life free from nightmares of bullets tearing through flesh, the cold weight of porcelain crushing through bone. But then the moment would pass, and Lawrence would say something that pulled Adam right back into the present, or nudge his shoulder knowingly before tugging him to bed. After all, life without Jigsaw would have been a life without Lawrence, and not even Adam's worst nightmares could match that thought.
Sure, maybe he could have done without the sepsis and sleepless nights, but this? He wouldn’t have traded this for anything.