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When Enzo entered the hospital suite, just for a moment, the soft ringing in his head drowns out the dull burning on his side. The guy was as annoyingly pristine as ever, hair combed and a crisp office shirt despite the late hour of the evening. But then again, he didn't exactly look entirely untouched. Sleeves rolled, coat hung on one forearm, a suspiciously lacking vest, and a gentle frown in his brows that quickly softened the moment his eyes set on him; smoothed quicker than he could bury the sudden urge to soften it away with his own thumb.
Their was an air of unkempt to his movements. Broad shoulders that caved just a slight from its usually straight posture, the same dazed fatigue in the subtle curves of his ever-present smile. A smile that - after all these times - only now he had noticed to never fade during the moments they were together. Enzo, for the first time ever, seemed slightly as ruffled as Rian constantly becomes when he's around him.
Perhaps it was the first time ever he could relate to the guy. And it was unfair, only being able to stand on equal footing when the bastard was not at his best. Of course he would never strive to be as bleak and insufferable as one Lorenzo Stefano, but he supposed he was allowed a little hurt to his pride, realising it didn't feel patronising only when Enzo was off his footing - and not because of him.
All these thoughts rushed through him in the span of one second, in and out. Yet it was still one second too late to realise their eyes have been meeting for the past two, and he forcefully jerked his gaze back to the tablet in his hand. Out of nowhere the burning on his side returned, and he hoped to any god out there merciful enough to magically make Enzo's eyes miss the way he gripped the tablet just a bit tightly. Or the way his body grew rigid at the sudden spike of pain.
"You haven't been sleeping," Enzo's knowing lilt filled the room like smoke, cutting his breath away. "That's surprising."
Always so confident in his words, always so conniving just like that dastard face of his. He refused to let the tiny semblance of concern from the guy soothe him. The fact that Enzo knew he hadn't slept a wink for the past two days, the fact that he was able to tell in one look. It was to be expected honestly. The guy's always been the sharpest tool in the shed, a fact that infuriates him more times than he bothered to count. And it's not like he was deliberately attempting to hide the fact from the guy. It's Enzo we're talking about here, why even bother?
"Well, you can't really get a good sleep with a bed this shit can you?" He tried to hide his grimace when the sentence came out a bit too harsh than intended, flashing his signature crooked smile to lessen the blow while his fingers trembled just a slight (too much movement, ow ow ow-) as it playfully patted the bed; as if proving his point. God knows why on earth he's even putting any effort into not hurting the bastard's feelings. Heck he's on the damn hospital bed all bandaged and miserable because of him and not because he willingly let himself be entangled with that bastard.
At least it seemed like Enzo caught no offense, based on the amused eyebrow lift he responded with. And once again Adrian Rosebarton is reminded of the absolute hell he's been through all thanks to that face. The fury returns, and suddenly the idea of bleeding out on the bloody stiff bed didn't sound so horrid - as long as he didn't need to see that damn face again. Get charmed and bewitched by it.
But what a loss would that be, wouldn't it?.
Letting the anger simmer for as long as possible, he adamantly ignored the rustling sound of a coat flopping down on one of the sofa cushions, as well as the sound of dull footfalls echoing from fancy dress shoes that circled his bed; before they grew closer the longer he ignored. Empty fingers tapped on the many website forums displayed on the screen, void of all the rings that usually adorned them. All his accessories were neatly gathered on top of the bedside table, as if someone intentionally placed them where one would notice at first glance. As if that someone knew him well enough to know that he would wake up looking for them the first moment after all the drug-induced drowsiness fades away.
And he would very much prefer not to, but if he really tried diving back deep into the murky memories that seemed to drown him when he was half out cold, he could somewhat tell the silhouette of a skillful hand gently taking said rings and brecelets off his fingers one by one. Movements ever so slow and gentle he was almost convinced they belonged to anyone else but Enzo. But of course he refuses to do so, because then a splitting headache would come to torment him, and he would have recalled a little too much.
Too much of the comforting warmth that pressed against his back, completely supporting his weight as he fell limp. Too much of the pair of strong arms that held him tight when the pain on his side was too unbearable it shook him, when the drugs rendered him too deluded to make sense of anything but pain pain pain. Too much of when the hum of an all too familiar voice whispered words he couldn't decipher but the gentleness of it all still swirled around his head like a cold cloth pressed against his heated skin.
Too much of the stilled quiet that followed when there was nothing in his world but a warmth that refused to leave and a pair of long fingers diligently carving through his hair, before everything faded to black.
The light touch of a finger to his cheek jerked him back to the present, and he turned, tossing a glare at the tip of a slender finger poking his cheek - facing the one man he both dreaded and desired. The one man he dreaded to desire, so to say.
The man who's golden eyes stared back at him placidly with not an emotion in sight. Just as difficult to read as the day they met, but perhaps much more irritating than that very eventful day; sans the fountain and humiliation.
Golden irises that almost seemed to glow in the dim lighting when it fidgetted, gaze scouring every inch of his hunched form. And all of a sudden it felt almost embarrassing to be in such a position. Back pressed against the slightly lifted half of the hospital bed, knees bent and lifted because the fuck ass posture lessens some of the pain, and the thin blanket discarded somewhere - probably tangled between his feet, he really couldn't care any lesser. The tablet containing all the information sent by Shadow lay gingerly in his hands.
Wow, now that's quite the pathetic image he noticed a tad too slow and will take a tad too long to recover from.
An amused glint sparkled in Enzo's eyes, as if the thought of his little pet noticing that embarrassing little info too late entertained him endlessly, and Rian contemplated if it was a good idea to chuck the tablet to the bastard's head.
"With the amount of painkillers currently in your body, I expected you to be out cold," there was a slight shift in tone when Enzo spoke that line. A quick shift that almost hinted at upset, as if the difference between his expectation and Adrian's currently painful reality is an offense.
Honestly he does wish he could go on a ramble of the many things that's been fucking up his already poor sleep schedule. The dull pain on his side randomly spiking up on random hours of the night, the dimly lit room somehow still causing him headaches - especially when the light from the outside shifts every time someone passes by his room - or better yet, it was the paranoia of it all.
Just the slightest change in the air would make him jump. Closing his eyes for more than five seconds would alarm him and everything was just too loud. Not to mention the bandages would itch every now and then and he can't scratch the damn thing. Everything was too much and too unforseeable, too sudden and too distorting.
Instead, though, he simply presses the heels of his palms to his hands and takes a deep, grounding breath. Because ranting out his woes to Enzo is a waste of time. Because he was the inevitable enemy he ought to pay much closer attention to if it weren't for his stupid heart and his stupid wants. Because he's almost too sure the bastard would rather do anything else then waste his precious golden time listening to him.
The intake of breath stuttered when he inhaled too deeply, and an annoyed huff left his nose before he tossed yet another scathing glare at the bastard sitting on the chair beside his bed. "You being here makes it worse, just so you know."
At that, the edge of Enzo's lips quirked up just a slight. The smallest little lift that successfully made his face magically twice as pretty. Then he stands - way too abruptly that it sets alarm bells in his head - and this time Adrian actually considered whether the tablet is a lethal enough trajectory object to take down a guy of his build.
But his grip remained firm on the gadget. Because the guy was reaching out to him, hands outstretched and growing closer and closer to his face. And as much as he wanted to move back and avoid the touch, every single muscle in his limbs were unfortunately far too sluggish and tired to do anything but remain still.
A daunting move, even for him. To willingly let Enzo Stefano lay a finger on him with little to no warning. But Adrian Killy Rosebarton was also a special agent, one who would never miss the way Enzo was carefully - but subtly - telegraphing his every movements towards him.
Not that the tiny display of consideration instantly made the guy seem harmless, but at least the intention was well-meaning enough to calm some of the tensed muscles in his shoulders.
And so he lets the pad of a thumb press against his eye, the gentle pressure almost reverent as they swiped across in the same curve of what he assumed were the very visible eyebags. Enzo's gaze was still blank as he repeated the gesture, save for a slight press of his lips and a gaze a bit too focused on said dark circles.
"What do you think you're doing," he mumbled into the hushed distance between them, voice horse from lack of sleep and fatigue. He was almost tempted to simply lean into the bastard's arms and be done with it all, the natural warmth coming from a healthy body a little too tempting in his current dazed state. But the question practically fell on deaf ears. The answer, though, came in a different form.
It came in the form of a foreign weight pressing down on his bed and a person situating itself beside him. It came in the form of a warm body gently placing it's weight on his form and guiding him back to bed, pressing against his uninjured side. The answer came in the form of a strong arm reaching across his chest and carefully cupping his injured side. It came in the form of strong legs folding and lodging themselves under the back of his knees, letting him rest his legs on strong thighs and helpfully lessening the pain that relentlessly festered the wound had his legs not remained bent and numb.
"There are matters that I need settled," Enzo's soothing voice flowed inches away from his ear, hushed and void of the usual arrogant tone he carried. Warm breath caressed his neck and the tip of a nose pressed under his jaw. "And I can not have them settled if my Connector is out of order."
It didn't make much sense. Why was the bastard laying on the bed with him? Why the sudden display of affection? What happened to basic respect for personal space?
A deep, breathy chuckle echoed near his collarbone. "You're not usually this quiet. Have I rendered you speechless, Rian?" The folded arm Enzo used to cushion his head came up, casually carving away strands of golden hair from his eyes with the tip of his pretty fingers. They traced the curve of his brow, the delicate motion summoning more and more of the drowsiness Adrian believed had initially forsaken him.
"Fuck off." His reply came mumbled and slurred, void of the bite his words usually held when spat at the guy.
And now, with the presence of a very annoying pest pressed against his side, the noises that constantly stirred him awake right at the edge of slumber never seemed so loud; drowned by the stable breathing of his unwelcomed company. And oddly enough the large hand cupping his injury almost made it feel like he could tolerate the upcoming random spikes of pain to come.
As the hallway lights dimmed, Adrian Rosebarton allowed slumber to take him as the ever blurry visages at the back of his head resurfaced slowly in a mix of memories and dreams. Of gentle fingers pressing against the tears slowly running down the corner of his eyes and of fingers caressing his bandaged side in a constant rhythm. Of soft lips pressed deeply against his temple and his jaw that clenched anytime a new cycle of pain came. Of soothing voices shushing him and whispering assurances right by his ear.
It turned out to be a damn good sleep.