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As Page shifted in the bed, a warm wet metallic taste rolled over his tongue. He huffed, exhausted—his thoughts hard to pull together as he forced himself upright, only for panic to flood him as he looked down. Blood had streaked down the sheets of the bed. He nervously jammed between his thighs, but finding nothing there, he touched his face and found the source of the blood dripping down. Page swallowed and gagged, covering his mouth to try and keep the sound from waking the three bodies on the bed.
There was no way he could remove the sheets—a fact that made him slump for a moment until another scarlet drop hit white. One of the figures stirred and Page froze as he heard a soft voice in the dark of the room.
“Page, are you okay?” Koby asked, yawning before dropping into a whisper. The mattress shifted as he moved, carefully extracting himself from the mound of limbs that made up Drake and Law. He winced slightly in sympathy as he touched the damped part of the sheets, frowning for a moment before wiping the smear on his fingers off on his arm. “Period?” The question came with a head tilt of concern, pink eyebrows knitted together in a way that made Page falter for a moment.
“No, just…” Another droplet fell and Page furiously pinched his nose, “Nose bleed.”
“Much easier to deal with than the alternative at the moment, but let's get you cleaned up as best we can.” Koby offered up a soft smile as he pushed past Page, feet touching the floor with a soft pap. He turned, offering a hand out, but Page brushed it aside.
“I don't need help.” A low warning growl escaped from the back of Page One’s throat, teeth bared, “I can clean myself up.”
“Okay, but I'm still going to come with you. Drake-san and Law-san both would be unhappy if I didn't.” Koby withdrew the offered hand as Page stood and glowered, fingers still clamped over the bridge of his nose.
It was moments like these Page had been grateful for what privacy being a Tobiroppo had offered. It was limited—what could be described as a small house shoved into the mishmash of Onigashima’s layout—but a vast improvement compared to being shuttered away to the pleasure house or the barracks. He yanked off his clothing, wadding each article up in tight balls before throwing them to the ground, just outside the bathroom. The bleed had stopped for the time being, but the horrible coppery taste lingered in his nose and mouth. The blood of others he could take, but his own… He frowned, head turning as he looked toward the strained sounds of voices murmuring in the dark, with Koby finally catching up behind him.
“Drake-san and Law-san are taking care of the sheets. We may have to sleep on a naked bed until morning, but it's okay.” He gave a light little shrug, as if none of it truly bothered him, like someone nearly a stranger bleeding all over his things was something that happened every day, “Are you okay?”
Page One could have lied, he could have gone sharp with fangs and claws, but instead stood there feeling pathetic. His skin pickled from the chill of the air and crossed his arms to cover himself while he shivered. “No, just…no.”
“I get that.” With a comfortable distance between them, Koby let Page fold in on himself, sunken to the floor of the bathroom. The sound of a splash of water caught Page’s attention and following up swiftly, a warm damp cloth pressed to his face. Page winced, but allowed Koby to wipe the blood off his face, who paused enough to allow Page to uncurl, then continued, wiping off what he could on the other’s chest. “I get that this is new and scary—going from having what seems like everything to nothing is hard.” Koby winged the dirty cloth into the pile of Page’s clothes, the wet smack of impact muffled by the fabric. “It's just blood and no one is mad.”
Page gave a pissy little huff, the sound almost like a small crocodilian hiss. He had expected one of them to be furious, to tear into him for making a mess. He was used to being treated like a nuisance, with the attitude of ‘you shouldn't even be here’, or worse. That is—until it was time to be of use, and then it was time for every mistake to be scrutinized. He could keep up and had, but that had only just barely earned the safety and protection the position had offered him and his sister.
“I didn't think they would be…” The lie convinced no one—with Page’s gaze never quite making it to Koby’s eyes. “And it doesn’t bother me either.” Another lie. “You get in enough fights and… other things, and you have a tendency to leave a lot of blood behind.”
Letting each new dishonesty slide, Koby gave an understanding nod—unfortunately, familiar with the concept of both blood spilled from a battle and bleeding because of a bothersome cycle. “Still…I like to reassure people.” Trying again, he offered a hand up to Page, “I think they got the bed fixed up so let's go back okay?”
Page nodded and this time relented, allowing Koby to help haul him back up, where he led Page back into the main sleeping area. Hunched over the bed, Drake fixed up what he could with new sheets, likely liberated from some of the nighttime staff, while Law rummaged through their belongings.
Yellow eyes focused on Page and Koby when they returned, “Patient stabilized, nurse Koby?” Law teased. He yanked a shirt free from the collection of meager belongings they’d managed to bring in with them, “Here, it’s one of Diez’s—should be big enough to work as a nightshirt.”
Koby’s cheeks darkened and his expression twisted in a mix of humor and horror. “Please don't tell me it's…Law-san, not that shirt.”
“No, that would be weird.” Law laughed and brought over the article to Page. Instead of the t-shirt Koby had once been allowed to squirm into (—and almost immediately, out of), the one lent to Page was a simple button-up. “Though he does have other much more tasteless shirts we’ve gotten him.” Law mused. “It’s a pity they’re all back on the Hind.”
Accepting when offered, Page gripped onto the shirt like it was a lifeline. The fabric was soft, a little better quality than his own clothing and he hesitated, looking between the other three men. “Is that…is that okay?” his voice cracked a little.
“Of course it is.” Drake stepped in smoothly, eyes still half-lidded. Though awake, the man had run the clean-up effort for the bed largely on autopilot. “Everything’s clean.” he gestured sluggishly for the pack to return to the safety and sanctity of the fresh covers. “No naked beds on my watch. Got my share of those in the Navy,” he muttered, trailing off, “Not about to deal with that again if I don’t have to…” But something was off—something outside of the thorny situation they'd all wound themselves into in Wano. Still dazed, Drake stopped and blinked as he struggled to wrangle his thoughts and paused as the gears ground in his head. Quiet and still, Page looked so awfully small standing there. A wash of awareness hit Drake and the grumble in his voice thinned away to nothing, replaced instead by soft concern. “—is everything alright?”
Page opened his mouth and for a moment, with lips parted, he tried to speak, though nothing happened. Instead, he buried his face into the offered shirt and sucked in a couple of deep breaths. Boys didn't cry, boys didn't let gentle gestures get to them when survival was more important. He swallowed, trying to ready himself to respond before Koby cut him off, a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Bad nosebleed. I followed him into the bathroom and helped him wash up. The washcloth and his clothes are over there too, but those can wait until morning.” Koby volunteered, as Law slipped in close with a thoughtful scrutinizing hum.
That no one was hurt (or hurting in any capacity enough to warrant calling a physician) held enough of an explanation for Drake. “Thank you, Koby.” he deflated, any tension leaving him. Their youngest’s actions soothed over any immediate spikes of dread and for that, he had Drake’s gratitude. With a soft sigh, again, Drake gently waved them toward the tidied bed. “Well then, come on, let’s go—the lot of you. The poor boy doesn’t need to be crowded and stared at any more than he has been.” And for good measure, “Law, love, you can drill him for his medical history after breakfast. It’s late now.”
Directing opinionated young men was not unlike herding cats. For the most part, all you could do was try and hope.
Effectively cut off at the pass from chasing a mystery, Law squinted, his nose wrinkling for a moment before he conceded, with any other verbal protest cut off by a jaw-cracking yawn. Irritated, he huffed as he backed away and crawled onto the bed, curling up on it like a large cat. Koby shook his head, an amused sigh escaping as he trailed after Law, the taller young man uncurling long enough for Koby to tuck up against him.
Page didn't even need to unbutton the shirt, pulling it over his head with ease. Though he swam in it, it hung comfortably off his frame, fending off some of the earlier chill, exacerbated by the damp patdown he'd received. “I'm sorry.” He didn't know quite what he was sorry for—for waking them all up or for his existence in the moment. He shouldn't have been scared. Drake had already proven that he wasn't the persona he wore in front of Kaidou and his goons, but the old habit of wanting to keep his head down kept cropping up. Keeping your head down meant safety, it meant your position was secure, or at least it had been for him.
Page hesitated, gaze drifting again with his uncertainty, “I should…get a mat or something to sleep on the floor.”
Prepared for the stall, Drake wouldn't have any of it and came packing his own steady insistence. “ Bed . It was a nosebleed. At the absolute worst, everything gets another round of cleaning in the morning and we all hit the baths early.” He extended a hand, patient and waiting. “You'll be far more comfortable where it's warm, I assure you. Also,” he added quietly, a faint little sleepy smile on his lips, “I'd rather not have to cart you off in my arms to it. Unless you'd prefer that.”
“No, you don't have to.” Page would let Drake handle him. Especially after discovering how wonderful it felt… That said, he wouldn’t deal with the humiliation of being carried. He did put his hand in man’s though, and a quiet rumble of contentment escaped at the warmth of his touch, “...and fine.”
From the bed, a two-man chorus of soft, insistent, but poorly imitated sounds of infant crocodilians piped up. Page peered around Drake to find that Koby and Law had rotated enough to look at them, both making the sound that made his zoan side perk up in curiosity. He couldn't help but make the sound back, which earned him twin satisfied smiles in return.
Drake, however, was less than pleased.
“No…” he groaned, exhausted in multiple measures. “That's cruel. And you all know—” A deep return call of his own rolled out of his throat, interrupting any efforts to speak, “—that.” Drake scowled and grunted, head bowed as he bunted Page toward the bed, crawling in behind him as he bullied the younger man in toward his lovers. It was like an itch—unscratchable unless the sounds ceased and Drake could physically pile himself atop the maker, or makers in this case, like a brooding hen. “None of–” Another return call, involuntary from him as the trio continued their onslaught of noises, punctuated by the occasional odd giggle, “—none of that, come on.” With Page pinned in the middle, Drake threw an arm over him and tugged the pair in tight as well. “There! I'm right here! It's fine! Stop calling for me!” For all his frustration, the man could hardly stop smiling.
With the lot of them crunched in tightly though, the quiet stillness that fell after didn't feel so oppressive, didn't feel so lonely.
“There, now.” Another sigh, another bunt from Drake as he molded himself against Page’s back. Then softly, “Is that any better?”
“Yeah.” With warm breath on Page’s skin and warm bodies at his back and front, he began to unclench, the stress slowly melting until he found himself fully relaxed. Listening to the pace of Drake’s breathing, he matched it, letting another low and contented rumble escape, as Koby and Law seemed to squirm as a unit to keep them all pressed snugly together.
This could be fine—a small spot of comfort in a hell made by monstrous hands. Even if it was temporary, even if it was pretend, for now, it would be fine.
