Work Text:
Thick fingers struggled as Banhammer tied up the laces to his boots. He grabbed his coat from the rack beside the door, sliding his arms through it before hoisting it over his shoulders. It was going to be cold tonight. And tomorrow, and the day after. According to his phone, it was going to be cold for the entire coming week.
Honestly, it was a shame he was taking that coat with him, because despite what Medkit said, Medkit very clearly did enjoy wearing Banhammer’s clothes, especially that piece. Maybe it was because of the comfy, warm, faux fur pelt on the inside that made it so very insulated and comforting to wear. Or maybe, it was because it smelt like him. Banhammer always liked to imagine it was the latter.
Despite the teasing that Banhammer would inflict on Medkit, claiming that the demigod minded the theft would be a complete lie. In fact, he sort of enjoyed seeing Medkit wear his clothes, especially considering they were all about a billion sizes too big on him. The coat covered almost all the way down his thighs, and hung just above his knees. And besides, Medkit was always more grouchy when it snowed anyways, so why not let him wear it?
Their weather temperature preferences were one of the very many serious differences between them. Banhammer could survive sitting in a volcano, but Medkit would rather die than go outside in heat any higher than 22 degrees. Medkit could stand in the snow in nothing but shorts and be fine, but Banhammer would swear he could feel his fingers turning into icicles all the way up to his knuckle.
However, ignoring his tolerance to it, Medkit never did enjoy the cold. He never really said it, but whenever it got cold really suddenly, Medkit would act really odd, and yet never turn the heater on. Instead, he’d sit on the couch in the cold and stare forwards, letting the frostbite nip painfully at his skin. And, Swords forbid you tried to talk to him when he was in that state. He’d snap and shout and act like you were trying to kill him.
Banhammer never was able to figure out where his mind went when he was cold. His eye would occasionally flicker wider like he was afraid of something, but Banhammer had learned that it was useless to try and ask him about it. It was impossible to tell whether his tremors were shivering from the temperature, or trembling from whatever was on his mind.
So, he’d just silently turn on the heater and wait for him to warm up enough to snap out of whatever memory was making him so irritable and irrational.
But there was that one time… The one time where, after it had gotten a little warmer, Medkit started to stare at Banhammer, extending his hand and gesturing for him to come closer. And when he obliged, Medkit scrunched up his face a little, like a kid tasting something sour for the first time, and then clung to the front of his shirt.
He didn’t cry. Medkit wasn’t one to cry. But with the way his lips got all wrinkly and his eye squeezed shut, he looked like he had been crying for so long that he ran out of tears. Yet, his face was completely dry.
It was strange, but Banhammer would be lying if he said he didn’t feel rather content with Medkit against his chest like that. He felt quite useful, honestly. He would never tell anyone this, but he sometimes didn’t really feel like a great partner. Medkit and Banhammer were just so distant, so different. Their hearts had walls of brick and steel and fire and barbed wire to protect them, and neither of them had the emotional navigation skills to break their partner’s walls down
In rare moments, they held each other. Desperate for the kind of love that they knew only the other would give them. In warm moments, where it was neither too hot nor too cold, they would have lazy mornings. Dressed in sheets, Banhammer would run a hand down Medkit’s back and grin as Medkit whispered something uncharacteristically sweet into his ear.
Medkit’s heartbeat was always so mellow when they were like that. The rising and falling of his chest felt like being hugged by feathered pillows. Banhammer would whisper something back, struggling to force the gravel out of his voice so he could say something he really meant. Words, so soft and gentle, that were the first autumn shower on withered, dry grass. And honesty had never come easy for him.
These moments were never often. Never constant. But they had their times where the sunlight peaked through the rainclouds and they held each other like lovers should. A tenderness that was foreign to both of them, somehow reignited in moments too fleeting to dwell on. They pass too quickly, because the walls never stay down for long.
Just earlier that evening, in fact. The two of them had a moment just like that…
…
Banhammer had slugged through the doorway, his shoelaces were already half-undone, so he easily kicked his boots off his feet. His large hand braced himself against the great black door behind him as he flicked the shoes onto a rack beside the door. One of them missed and flung dirt all over the grey carpet, but he wasn’t really bothered enough to pick it up.
There was something odd about the smell of the house this time. An almost sweet scent wafted through the air in a way that made it seem nearly palpable. The usual taste of dust was gone, replaced by something much cleaner. There was a sizzling noise that bubbled up from the kitchen, which was increasingly odd because Medkit despised cooking.
There was one time when he had asked Medkit to cook something for him since he was going to get home really late, and all that he came home to was a note that said ‘I tried’ and a sandwich made of lettuce, cheese, cucumber and extremely burnt bacon. It wasn’t enough to satiate Banhammer’s hunger, but all the dirty dishes stacked in the sink, and the lingering scent of burnt food was proof that he really did try.
But this scent was no half-assed sandwich smell. It was rich and spicy and savoury, like you would smell in an overpriced restaurant with a wait list going into the next generations. To investigate, he marched his way into the living room and then back into the kitchen, peering through the doorway.
And there Medkit stood, phone in one hand, spoon in the other, stirring away at something sizzling on the stove. His eyebrows furrowed down at his phone as he sighed, his forehead wrinkling in worry.
“You’re cooking?” Banhammer spoke up, which made Medkit relax a little and turn his attention back to the stove. Medkit’s way white hair was neatly pulled back into a low ponytail behind his head.
Medkit bit the inside of his lip as he looked into the pan. “I am. I’m following a recipe, but I don’t think it’s going very well.” He sighed, narrowing his eye once again at his phone. The kitchen usually looked like a nightmare whenever Medkit tried to cook, but for some reason the entire house was gleaming like it was new.
He was acting odd. Every word Medkit said was soft, and yet it echoed like he was screaming it alone in a canyon. His gaze was focused on the recipe in hand, and the food on the stove, and yet he also seemed distracted by something. Nobody is that enamoured by their own cooking, not unless there was something else that you were trying not to think about.
Glancing over his shoulder, Banhammer read the title of the recipe he was following, ‘Best easy sweet and sour pork.’ He really didn’t mean to, but he chuckled slightly. “Well it smells good, so surely you’re doing something right.” He tried to reassure, even if he really wasn’t the slightest bit confident in his partner’s cooking abilities. “You cleaned the house too?”
It was strange for Medkit to be so… motivated. Sure, he did usually keep the place clean and such, but it was very odd for him to do absolutely every single household chore in one day. Everything was spotless and shiny, it was a little unnerving.
There wasn’t much of a reply for a while, and as the pause stretched, Banhammer watched Medkit’s lips shrivel up like he was holding back words. “The place was a wreck. I don’t know how I went on that long without noticing it. There was dust all over the shelves, and muck all over the carpet.” Medkit huffed, not looking back at Banhammer as he leaned over to sniff the food in the pan.
“It really wasn’t that dirty. The worst of it was all just dust.” Banhammer didn’t really know why he was arguing, but if he had to guess it would be because he had this strange pit in his stomach that told him that Medkit was hiding something. It felt like something was missing, but he wasn’t really sure if should keep pressing him or not. He rested a hand on Medkit’s shoulder as he tried to peer over it at the food once more.
A sharp glare was thrown in Banhammer’s direction. “Do you mind? I don’t want to burn this.” He hissed, shoving the touch away with an upwards jab of his shoulder. His feet clattered against the floor as he scooted away from Banhammer. “I’m trying to focus here. Unless you’d rather eat more of my signature slop?” His hand twitched when he flicked the air to try and get Banhammer to leave.
“Let me help you.” The offer came out of Banhammer’s mouth before he could even process what he was saying. “You’re starin’ at that recipe like it’s in another language. At least let me have a look at it.” His hand trailed over the smooth grey countertops and reached for Medkit’s phone, but it was quickly shoved into Medkit’s pocket.
Once the device was secure in his pocket, Medkit grabbed the pan by the handle and dragged it off the element so Banhammer couldn’t interfere. “I don’t want help. Just let me do this by myself.” Then, Medkit did what he had a habit of doing when he was feeling stubborn. He stood up tall with his shoulders back, looking up at his partner like he could ever be intimidating, and narrowed his gaze, scrunching up his nose in a potent expression
Maybe this would have an effect on people if they weren’t over a foot taller than him, but Banhammer always thought it was sort of silly. “Don’t scowl at me! I’m trying to help you.” He deadpanned, reaching back for the handle of the pan to put it back on the stovetop. Medkit quickly swatted his hands away from the stove.
Banhammer sighed loudly as he made eye contact with his lover once more. Medkit was still scowling at him, his expression maybe even deepened a little than what it was before. The constant refusal of his help pissed him off a little.
“Fine, whatever. I’ll be on the couch if you change your mind.” And so Banhammer did go and sulk on the couch for another ten minutes. He sunk his back into the cushions and mindlessly watched some gameshow that was running on TV. He was practically gnawing on his gums in frustration. There was something wrong with Medkit, he could tell, but he had no idea what.
Eventually they sat down at the table to eat, and as Banhammer pushed a forkful of food into his mouth, he found himself enjoying the flavour. Medkit, for the most part, kept his head down as he ate. Was he mad at him? Was he avoiding him, or just avoiding the entire world? Was he just lost in his head again?
“It’s not bad.” He spoke up, forgetting to swallow the chunks of pork in his mouth before doing so. Medkit raised his head, but didn’t reply. He still had that strange expression, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and yet his gaze was in the distance. His lips were ever so slightly pursed like he was pouting and his skin looked like it had been pulled tight around his skull. “The food, it’s not bad.” Banhammer repeated himself, hoping that maybe that was the insecurity that made Medkit ball up like this.
Medkit looked down at his plate, and then up at Banhammer once more. “That’s good.” The reply was fast and sharp, like there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I-...” His voice trailed off like it was walking away from him against his will. “I wanted to do something nice for you.” He mumbled, placing another piece of food in his mouth and chewing slowly.
That certainly made Banhammer perk up a little. Despite all his troubles, Medkit had always been a kind person, but a generous one? That was off the table. “Why?” He narrowed his gaze. Why did Medkit feel the need to do all this? Why start cleaning and cooking frantically out of nowhere. “And before you give me some bullshit answer to deflect, I know something’s up with you. Just make this easier and tell me what happened.”
In the pace of a second, Medkit had straightened up his posture again, his eye narrowed with a scowl towards the demigod on the other end of the table. “Oh, my apologies, I wasn’t aware that I was so vain to need a reason to want to do something nice for my partner.” The sass dripped like poison from his lips.
Fucking hell, why did Medkit have to be so difficult? It’s not like Banhammer was going to judge him for whatever was bothering him, he just wanted to know! “Stop hidin’ shit from me, I’m never gonna appreciate it! How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care if you burden me until you finally understand?”
And Medkit was quick to spit back a reply. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t need your help until it gets drilled through your thick skull! I’m fine!” Medkit had always been a fantastic liar. He has these masks of fake emotion that he can switch out within a second. Banhammer is good at reading the very basics of Medkit’s emotions, but beyond that? He gets lost. Because that’s what the masks try to do, they try to make you feel lost so that you give up on him. Banhammer promised himself that he would not give up on him.
Banhammer scoffs, his teeth gritted because, as much as he cares, this is pissing him off. This is really pissing him off. “Why do all that shit where you tell me to open up if you're never going to do it yourself?! Why force me to be vulnerable when you clearly can’t even stomach being mildly uncomfortable without complaining!?” And for some reason his eyes start to burn.
Part of Banhammer failed to deny how beautiful Medkit looked when he was mad. His nose wrinkled and scrunched like a piece of old newspaper, and his hair sort of stood up like a feral cat. That image fit Medkit better than Banhammer would’ve liked it to. Hissing and swatting at anything that came his way, whether it be friend or foe, guarding his ground until he noticed he was backing himself into a corner, and then darting out under the enemy’s feet to run away before they managed to get their hands on him.
“I don’t tell you because you won’t understand me, Banhammer, and that's okay! I never expected you to.” He rolled his eye, before curling in his lips and chewing on his words. Maybe he didn’t mean to say that. “I know you like to take risks, and that's fine. But I don’t. I know you like to know who you can trust, and are willing to give those people your trust. But I don’t. And I know you’re confident enough to prove that you care. But I’m not.”
Banhammer paused, letting the silence dangle between them like a knife swinging from a rope. He felt his cheeks start to hurt, and then his heart started to stutter in his chest. All four of his eyes stung as he looked down at the plate in front of him. “Is that what this is about? You think we’re too different?” And Banhammer didn’t cry, because he dug his fingernails into the table until they started to hurt too. “Is that why you did all of this? To soften the blow when you tell me that you don’t wanna be with me anymore?”
And for a long while, there was no reply.
And a feeling that Banhammer couldn’t say he’d experienced a lot started to bloom across his body. If you asked him what emotion it was, he would pretend he didn’t hear you, because he had no idea. But it felt like all his insides were shrinking and squeezing up against each other, and all the air in his body was diffusing out through his skin. He felt the need to gasp for air as the burning sensation under his eyelids got worse. But he didn’t cry. He wouldn’t.
It felt cold. For some reason, he could swear his teeth were chattering under his lips. His foot started to restlessly bounce against the ground against his own will, and he brought his head into his hands to hide the probably disgusting expression that was welling its way onto his features.
“No.” Medkit sighed, rubbing at his forehead with one hand as the other nervously pressed into his own waist. “No, I-I don’t want you to leave. That’s-... that’s not what I was trying to say.” His eye flickered, losing focus between Banhammer and the walls. His eyebrows were furrowed still, but in a different way. Worry, maybe? Or was it conviction? “Stay, please.”
Banhammer let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, pulling his hands away to look Medkit in the eye. From what he could deduce, Medkit was trying to be genuine, and from the way his gaze occasionally flickered away, he seemed… guilty. If he was being honest, Banhammer wanted nothing more than to rip Medkit out of his seat and hold him down. To smother him in affection so that Medkit knew Banhammer would never want to leave either.
But, he didn’t. The room fell back into that cruel silence as they both began eating like that conversation never happened. Banhammer placed a piece of pork in his mouth, his eyes glaring at his partner at the other end of the table unintentionally. He didn’t know what to do. Really, he had no clue. But he had to do something! He had to say something, anything, to fix this.
“Do you think that… we’re too different?” Banhammer spoke up, eating the last bite of food on his plate. His head rested against his hand, which mindlessly twirled around his fork. “I-I know you probably don’t wanna keep talking about this, but you scared the shit out of me just then. I just want to know what you think.”
Medkit swallowed his food, as he slowly raised his head. “We are… different, but I’m not going to sit here and talk about this being an ‘us’ problem. It’s my problem, Banhammer. You don’t need to worry so much.” He sighed, dropping his fork onto the plate and grabbing a paper towel to dab up any sauce left on his mouth. “What I mean is, I’m seriously predictable. If I didn’t want you around me, don’t you think I would have run away and hid already?”
And Banhammer supposed that was true. Medkit had always been very paranoid, and sometimes he would just completely freak out over really random things. But he had a pattern, a pattern of always isolating himself and hiding from the world when things got too hard to handle. He’d start life anew when he knew he was in danger. There was always the occasional complaint about Banhammer’s ‘bothering,’ but Medkit never really seemed uncomfortable by his presence.
“I guess you have a point...” He grumbled in response. Standing up from his seat, Banhammer gathered the dishes and shuffled his way into the kitchen, shoving them in the sink before turning straight on his heels to continue the conversation. “But aren’t all of your problems ‘us’ problems? If you’re acting all weird like this, it’s gonna affect me whether you want it to or not. I’ve told you before I don’t care if you become a burden, I like responsibility anywho. So tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Another sharp pause lingered between them. Medkit turned his head away, his gaze locked on a plant beside the couch like it would tell him the perfect reply. Eventually, he clicked his tongue and turned his focus to the roof instead. “When I was walking home, I saw biografts patrolling the city. They were looking for something, or– what worried me– someone.” His hands hid in his pockets. “I don’t really know what came over me, but I haven’t felt this afraid in a long time.”
Slowly, Banhammer approached. He stood close, leaving just a small gap between them. “Even if they were lookin’ for you, y’know I’d never let them keep you, right? I’d bring you back to Crossroads even if it killed me.” He could only hope he was being reassuring. He had no idea what he should say, really.
“I know, and I appreciate that, but that wasn’t really what affected me.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he went to sit down on the couch. He started to shake a little when he settled down on the cushions. “Seeing them just made me start thinking. And when I start thinking I don’t stop. By the time I got home, my heart was scratching at the inside of my skin from my ribcage, and my breathing was so erratic that I worried I would pass out.”
His partner followed, taking a seat beside him. He sat closer than he needed to, because all he wanted was for Medkit to be okay, and the only way his mind knew how to make that happen was to wrap around him. To protect him and entertain him until all the bad things in the world faded away into obscurity. Medkit wouldn’t need to worry about a thing, because Banhammer made him happy enough that he wouldn’t be able to make himself care any longer.
“So you see why I didn’t want to tell you anymore? It wasn’t even a real fear. Just memories and thoughts that got on my nerves so much that it nearly brought me to tears. It’s embarrassing, really, it’s more embarrassing than it is important.” Medkit picked at the dead ends in his hair with one hand as his face scrunched into a rigid scowl.
Hesitantly, he glided one hand over Medkit’s knee to cup his hand. Medkit jumped a little and then dug his eyebrows into his eyelids to give a glare. It wasn’t really directed at Banhammer though. An introspective scolding, if you will. “What did you think about?” He tilted his head calmly, determined to try and weed out the root of this problem. Everything had to be okay. He would make sure of it.
Yet another chilling pause as Medkit glared forwards with his forcibly steady breaths. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He hissed through his teeth. His forehead tensed so hard that Banhammer could nearly see a blood vessel pop. Medkit’s lips parted to say something else, but he quickly shut himself up with a sigh, pulling his hand away from where it was warmly being held under the demigod’s grip.
Banhammer’s eyebrows furrowed as his fingers gripped the fabric of his pants. Part of him wanted to raise his voice, because the more that Medkit pulled away, the more frustrated he got. His fingertips were filled with boiling heat from the suppressed anger. Still, he didn’t want to scare Medkit away even further, so he kept all of those aggressive words hidden under his tongue. “I want to hear about it, Meds. I-... I promise I’m not goin’ to judge you, or tell anyone, or whatever you think I’m gonna do. I want to… help.” The words were so disgustingly open that it made Banhammer’s mouth feel like it was bleeding.
“I don’t want help.” Medkit whispered in reply. You might think that Banhammer would have gotten even more angry at that response, but it was the way Medkit said it that made him crumble a little. Medkit said it in a sigh, like he was disappointed in himself, with his eyelids twitching as if he was trying not to cry. He sniffled, and then shook his head violently and rubbled at his temples, biting his lip hard enough that it could bleed. “I-I don’t want to be seen in this… pathetic state.” His voice was shaking now too, but his eyebrows remained deeply furrowed, concentrated on suppressing his emotions.
Something soft washed through Banhammer’s body when he saw that. Something soft that filled his own head with conflicting feelings that he would never be able to make sense of. But that didn’t matter. Not right now. What mattered right now was that Medkit was okay, and safe, and finally communicating what was bothering him so much. Everything was going to be okay.
Slowly, Banhammer reached out a hand, cupping it around Medkit’s cheek as he tried to be reassuring. “Stop acting all tough and get over here. Cry it out, I don’t give fuck.” He murmured, trying to coax Medkit into his arms. At first, Medkit struggled and squirmed, but eventually he clung to the front of Banhammer’s shirt and hid his head in his lover’s shoulder. Wrapping his strong arms around Medkit, he listened to gentle sobs failing to be silenced as Medkit shook against Banhammer’s frame.
Medkit’s fingers clutched the fabric tighter as he desperately tried to silence himself. “I hate this, I hate you.” He weakly grumbled through shaking breaths. The words were clearly meant to have more bite than they really did. It’s hard to be harsh when you’re in the process of breaking down, Banhammer supposed. Medkit had never really been the type to cry, and it would be a lie if Banhammer claimed to know whether that was a bad thing or a good thing.
“You’re okay, I gotchu, Meds.” Banhammer muttered in reply. His voice was uncharacteristically warm and gentle like the touch of a feather. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, everything’s okay.” He rambled on. He didn’t really know where these suddenly reverent words were coming from, whenever he spoke like this it was really only ever to Medkit. Words that must’ve been hidden under the gruff parts of his soul, words that can only find their way to his mouth when these strange feelings consume him. Medkit’s hands soon relaxed, and his arms found their way around the demigod’s back.
Suddenly, it started to rain outside, the cold air slowly slipping into their home. Banhammer’s only hope was that it wouldn’t make Medkit’s current state worse. Luckily, that didn’t seem to be the case. With their two bodies held together so closely like this, it was hard for either of them to feel cold. Everything felt warmer when the two of them were close like this, even if it didn’t happen often.
Medkit still cried into Banhammer’s shoulder, and neither of them dared to say a word. They didn’t do much of anything for quite a long time, simply holding each other close enough to feel their partner’s heartbeat. Running a large, comforting hand down Medkit’s back, Banhammer felt himself feeling rather content. Maybe everything really was okay.
Eventually, Medkit dried most of his tears, but he still didn’t move away from Banhammer’s embrace. He just hid his head against his neck as he started to mumble words. “Y’know… in Blackrock, I had caretakers. I wasn’t naturally spawned. I don’t hate them. They did fine, all things considered, but they raised me the way that most newspawns in Blackrock are raised, to survive.”
Banhammer tightened his grip around Medkit’s body reassuringly, letting out a small hum so Medkit knew he was listening. Finally, he was talking about it.
“...That’s why whenever they saw my eyes start to water, they’d grab my wrist and squeeze it until there was a great deep mark on my skin. And, they’d mutter an apology, sighing about how unfortunate it was every time they did it, but they’d just keep squeezing and squeezing until I managed to force my tears to stop. They’d do it until I picked up my composure off the floor, and could just… stare angrily instead of sobbing. I know that they were trying to ensure my survival and success, but I still hate crying. I don’t have the guts to squeeze my own wrist, so I’ve found other ways to make myself stop. I work, I clean, I be useful in whatever way I can think of so that I feel like I need to have that professional composure.”
His grip got even tighter, he squeezed Medkit so close. Part of him started to wish that he never got Medkit to talk, because he really didn’t want to hear this. It made him feel sick, knowing that there were people out there who would subject newspawns to such cruelty and then condition them to think of it as necessary suffering. Banhammer didn’t really know what to say. What are you meant to say in reply to a memory like that?
Medkit leaned into Banhammer’s grip as it tightened around him. Some pointless complaint was mumbled under his breath, but it was so raspy and quiet that Banhammer couldn’t begin to understand it. He turned his head to rest against the giant’s shoulder. “I hate this.” He repeated as he managed to look Banhammer in the eye. “I don’t understand why you love me. I don’t know where you find the patience to deal with me.”
Never had Banhammer seen Medkit look like that. Whispering with tears running down his face, vulnerable and borderline desperate. Pure, unbridled sadness that made his heart twist. “You’re enough, Medkit. You’re plenty.” He reassured, turning his head to rest against the top of Medkit’s horns. In all honesty, he’s not sure where he finds the patience either. Nobody had ever really described him as ‘patient’ before, not until this very moment.
They both went silent for a while after that. Neither of them moved either. Their warm bodies stayed pressed close until Banhammer reached over his shoulder to grab one of Medkit’s hands and intertwine their fingers. He didn’t miss how that made Medkit’s lips pull up into a slight smile. Banhammer had always loomed over Medkit, but when they held hands like this, the size difference became extremely apparent.
At the pace of a sloth, Medkit sat up while drying his eye with his free hand. He was much calmer now, and was taking deep breaths that seemed to keep his emotions steady. Banhammer let his hand fall away from his frame. Then, Medkit turned back to look at him through the corner of his eye. He looked his giant figure up and down, once, twice, before sighing and squeezing his hand tighter.
“I want this to work.” Medkit muttered. “I really want this to work, but I’m so afraid.” That last word came out in a hiss of loathing. His expression was much more genuine now, but his nose was still all wrinkled in annoyance. Medkit rubbed his temple once more, unintentionally hiding his face from his partner’s view.
Without thinking, Banhammer reached out and pulled Medkit’s hand away from his face, gripping it just as tightly as he held the other hand. “Afraid of what? I ain’t that scary.” That last sentence was a rather crude attempt at lightening the mood. Medkit only squeezed his eye shut, hands squirming in Banhammer’s grip like he wasn’t sure whether to hold on tighter or completely pull away.
“Swords, is everything an acceptable answer? In every single right of the world I am a complete and utter coward.” He made up his mind and pulled his hands away from his partner’s warm hold. Scratching at his head, Medkit turned to actually look Banhammer dead in the eyes for once. His gaze was somehow both sharp and wavering, like he was daring Banhammer to try and prove him wrong.
It took him a second, but eventually Banhammer found a reply “That’s… that’s just not true.” His tone was soft as he shifted closer, but his eyebrows were furrowed over his four eyes in determination. “You ran away from Blackrock all on your own… you had the courage to admit that you have feelings for me… I think that-...” He paused. “I think you should give yourself more credit.” His cheeks flushed against his will.
Medkit only stared at him, his eye flickering over Banhammer’s features like he was looking for something he lost. Then, he sighed, his face losing all that tension as he glared down at his own hands. “Maybe.” Was all he mumbled before leaning back against Banhammer’s side, resting a hesitant hand on Banhammer’s knee and repeating himself. “Maybe…”
…
And Banhammer supposed that's why he didn’t sleep very well that night. That argument, and the resolving conversation after it played on loop in his head while he was trying to sleep. Whenever he rolled over in bed and caught a glimpse of Medkit sleeping next to him, he felt this strange pit in his stomach that he couldn’t explain.
He didn’t know why, but thinking of Medkit, and the way he was raised, made a really sick feeling start boiling in his stomach. He always knew that Blackrock was a shitty place run by shitty people, and Medkit told him about his grand escape from Blackrock, so why did hearing that little bit about his partner’s childhood make his bones feel like they had suddenly run cold?
He subconsciously compared it to the way his momma raised him. She raised him to be strong, to be independent, and above all things, to be himself. He’s loud, and arrogant and disruptive, but that never swayed her love for him, rather, it may have amplified it.
Not Medkit. Medkit was very different, and according to him, he always had been. He never said much, never did much beyond what he had to. Apparently he used to have this burning passion to do the right thing, but it must have dimmed under the crushing pressure of survival. He was intelligent and well educated and cautious and sometimes it felt like Medkit just knew everything. If nothing else, Medkit certainly knew how to take care of himself without needing any help.
Medkit didn’t need any help. But Banhammer decided not to trust that, he pushed and prodded where he shouldn’t have, and Medkit got hurt. He cried. Medkit never cries, but he cried because Banhammer decided to go digging for memories that Medkit already had under control.
He would have been fine on his own. He didn’t need help. He said it himself. He didn’t want help.
If only Banhammer had just let him have his space, given him time to handle it on his own. If only he wasn’t so stubborn that he kept pushing fragile things until they broke. He’s no stranger to the fact that his mouth is often his own worst enemy. He says things he doesn’t mean. The words fall out, no matter how disgusting and vile, and fall on a pile on the floor for everyone to see.
Sometimes he doesn’t regret it, even if he didn’t mean to say it. Sometimes he only pretends he doesn’t regret it, but the fact that those words make people look at him strange is an undeniable fact. They hurt people. When he’s angry, they can really hurt people. He doesn’t want to, but he does, and usually he doesn’t allow himself the grace of saying an apology. Most people hated him anyway, so what’s the point?
How much longer would it be until he hurt Medkit? Until he said something that Medkit would never let him take back?
A stabbing realisation plunged through his chest. He’s terrible. As he lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the sickly feeling changed from a churning in his stomach to a suffocating lump in his throat. He’s terrible, really. He’s not good for Medkit, he could never be. They’re both too stubborn to change.
Banhammer didn’t want to hurt Medkit. Never.
But how could he stay? Knowing that their relationship was just going to be hot and cold all the time? Knowing that they can only be close to each other when they’re hurt? Knowing that it wouldn’t be long until he hurt him beyond a manageable hiccup? Banhammer knew he was going to keep pushing Medkit, and Medkit was going to keep shoving him away, until they both fell into a pit too deep to get out.
He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Medkit as he ripped himself out of bed, heart pounding louder and louder in his chest like a wardrum. He couldn’t even begin to describe it, but suddenly everything just felt so wrong. He shouldn’t be here, not laying beside a mortal in bed. He shouldn’t be so close to him, he didn’t really deserve it. His breath hiccuped in his throat as he gnawed on his lip to keep it shut.
Snatching his phone from the top of his dresser, he got dressed in whatever he had thrown on top of their shared dresser, throwing it on roughly so by the time he was out of their bedroom, his shirt was still riding up his back. His fingers were shaking as he took a deep breath, walking gently through the house as quietly as his goliath frame could muster.
Thick fingers struggled as Banhammer tied up the laces to his boots. He grabbed his coat from the rack beside the door, sliding his arms through it before hoisting it over his shoulders. It was going to be cold tonight. And tomorrow, and the day after. According to his phone, it was going to be cold for the entire coming week.
…
…
His hand reached for the door handle. He didn’t twist it open yet, he just held it as he sighed through his nose. He’d be back in the morning. Probably. He just needed some time by himself to think about this, whether this was going to work.
Probably, Medkit wouldn’t care that he wasn’t there when he woke up. He wouldn’t need a note, Banhammer doubted it would bother him. Maybe, Banhammer would come back early and just jump back into bed, or maybe, he’d wait until the sun rose and come back during breakfast.
But he would be back. Probably.
He’s leaving for now, but he would come back when he’s ready.
He might stay with his mother for a few nights, ask her some questions about how to deal with mortals, but he would be back.
He wasn’t a coward, he could find the strength to come back to him. He could cope with these feelings.
Probably.
Hopefully.
…maybe.