Work Text:
Feeling both warm and cold, Johnny clung to the prep leader, disheveled and disoriented. His usually glistening dark hair was overrun with blood and dirt, staining his faintly recognizable features an almost unnatural, odd red. His leather jacket, which was an integral part of his personality, was on the brink of ripping into two pieces. His breath was labored, quickening with each passing second.
“Ha…Harrington….”
Derby wasn't expected to help anyone. After all, that was the job of others. Like everything in his life, getting his hands dirty was out of the question. Aristocrats, like him, were born narcissists and leaders. Anything that deviated from the status quo was far from acceptable to the Vieux Riche.
But it was fine so long no one saw him being a human being wasn’t it?
“Hold still.”
“It hurts.”
“So? Hold still.”
Derby's voice held dominance and was as straightforward as can be. It was unusual for him to use that tone since everyone knew a Harrington wasn't to be questioned and was allowed to order around whoever they wanted. However, he guessed that paupers always heard this side of him since they never seemed to listen, as arrogant as they were.
“You’re lucky I found you, you know”, the usual annoyed yet proper tone that the leader held in his voice returned after all, taking care of a whiny bruised teenager that everyone considered his mortal enemy was not what he had on his mind after the sun had already set.
Derby could hear the ceiling lights play an unpleasant melody above his line of sight, the Glass Jaw Boxing Club was never used this late, or early the prep never paid that much attention to time.
“Shut up, I didn’t even need your help!”, the hissing of Johnny’s pain and rough vocals were like pleasure to the Harrington, a magnificent melody to combat the ones of ugly coming from overhead, trying to focus on treating another wound with maybe more rubbing alcohol than was needed he cleared his throat as loud as can be before wasting his precious thoughts on childish arguments, “Oh, admit it Vincent, what are you without me?”, perhaps it was the fact Johnny was already so tensed and stressed he couldn’t get any angrier in a way his body was able to show it, “I don’t need you, you scum! I just… You’re the worst person I’ve ever met. I hope you know that Harrington.”, Derby’s prideful smirk was definitely not because he didn’t notice the red dusting lightly on Johnny’s features.
“Yeah, yeah, love you too.”
“I’ll beat the crap outta you when I get better, I hope y’know that.”
“How? I mean just look at you, you definitely got “your ass handed to you” as you commoners usually say, no?.”
“Oh you think you’re hot stuff, huh?”
“How lovely, you sure know how to flatter me.”
Before Johnny could retort, a pair of soft lips lightly touched his bloodied and bruised one’s, just quick and gentle enough that it made his brain fuzzy but not him wanting more to the point of a heated make out session.
“Does it still hurt?”, Derby loomed above Vincent, his grin and hooded lashes giving the impression that he knew Vincent better than anybody in the whole world. With the light raised only bothering to frame his back left the rest of him cloaked in an alluring darkness. The contrast between light and dark, gave him an almost ethereal appearance, as though he was a celestial being rather than a mere mortal.
“Uh-N-no. No, it doesn't.”