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Couriway shuffles in, closing the door as softly as possible. He glances at the microwave's clock which glows faintly in the kitchen. 2:13 AM. Couri sighs, then winces and clutches his side in pain. Today's run was miserable. What should have been a simple border dispute between the mobs quickly escalated into half of HBG being called in suddenly to fix the mess. By the time they were done, the infirmary was overwhelmed. Couri didn't have any life threatening injuries, so he volunteered to leave to evaluate and care for himself. He wanted to get out of the building anyways, with its harsh lights and antiseptic smell.
Home, you're safe now, Couri thinks as he drags himself across to the bathroom before pausing in the living room.
The TV is on, illuminating a still figure on the couch. The screen glows with HBG's insignia, the one Couri designed himself, actually. All of their battles are streamed, and the symbol is what's shown after all is said and done. Couri crouches down (painfully) to observe his enigma of a roommate.
For someone so openly against HBG's policies and the hero programs in general, Couri catches Fein watching their streams occasionally. Weirdly enough, according to his friends, Fein typically watches streams when Couri is away. When questioned, Fein just rolls his eyes and tells him to shut up, turning off the TV and leaving the room to end the discussion. Is he embarrassed about his hypocrisy? Couri doesn't care. He's known Fein long enough to understand his reservations about the hero group.
A gray blanket is draped across Feinberg, who's asleep on the couch, facing towards the TV. He takes up the entire length and a little more. That cannot be comfortable at all, Couri thinks as he adjusts the blanket so it covers Fein properly. Fein also has his glasses on still, another indicator that he probably fell asleep unintentionally. Couri gently grabs the rectangular frames, folding them and setting them on the coffee table. He grabs the remote sitting there as well and turns the TV off.
Suddenly, Couri falls to the ground, his descent thankfully softened by the rug beneath him. His wings feel like as heavy as concrete blocks and his breathing is shallower than he would like it. He lays flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He's just so tired. He's confused. Couri slips out of consciousness, on the floor, next to the quiet snores from his friend above him.
"Couri?"
Couri jolts awake, groaning in pain. His fatigue is amplified now, a dull pressure radiating through his body.
"Why the fuck did you fall asleep on the floor?" Fein barks. He sounds more worried than angry, though.
Couri's eyes flutter, and he can see Fein sitting up on the couch. The sun peeks through the blinds behind him. He looks angelic, almost. His disheveled hair lights up by the glow. That thought doesn't stay inside Couri's head long, quickly replaced with a new wave of pain. He closes his eyes tight and purses his lips in a thin line.
"Hey? Couri? HEY!" Fein is actually shouting now, getting up and shaking Couri by the shoulders.
Couri cries out in pain.
"Shut the fuck up," Couri grumbles as loudly as he can. His breathing is more labored than before he fell asleep, sending him into a bit of panic. He definitely broke something and should've taken one of Nerdi's healing pots before heading home.
Fein catches on quickly.
"Are you hurt?" he asks. "I-is it your wings? Or-"
"Side," Couri murmured, cutting him off.
"Skies above, Couriway," Fein sighs. "Couri, I have to turn the lights on to see what's happening. Just stay where you are."
Couri wasn't planning on moving anyways, but he nods. As the switch clicked, he slowly opened his eyes, letting them adjust. He sees Fein crouched to his left.
"How did you know it's my left side?" Couri asks.
Fein glares at him. It's not with anger, it's with confusion and something else Couri can't quite place his finger on. He's too tired to decipher Fein right now.
Fein softens a bit after examining Couri's expression and shrugs. "You're shifted slightly to your right. Your left side's not touching the ground at all," he sighs.
Fein moves his hands, pausing before they touch Couri. "Can I roll up your shirt?" Fein asks quickly.
"Stop asking fuckass questions and just do what you want to do," Couri snaps breathlessly.
Fein scowls before slowly peeling Couri's shirt up. Couri sighs. The feeling of cool air against his ribs feels nice.
"Skies above," Fein murmurs.
"What? Is it bad?" Couri asks, attempting to sit up and look.
"Stay down and don't fucking move," Fein orders, placing a hand on Couri's shoulder before getting up, swiftly leaving the living room.
Couri hears the click of the freezer drawer opening. There's some rummaging and shifting coming from the kitchen before the drawer snaps shut. Fein returns with a large icepack, its packaging radiating a chemically blue color. He's at his side again, easing the frozen object against Couri.
Couri lets out a deep, relieved sigh, even though it pinches something. He subconsciously trails his hand over to hold the ice, pressing it into Fein's, but he doesn't jump or pull his hand out from under Couri's. He only sniffs at the sudden contact. Couri feels a smile tugging at his lips. He's pleased to indulge in this moment of rare intimacy with Fein.
It's not the first time Couri had come home battered and bruised. His excuse was the same every time. According to Fein's knowledge based on what he tells him, Couri has a lot of odd jobs, most of them involving long flights through the city. A mistimed turn and a fall from a story or two shouldn't sound too suspicious. If Fein asks Couri to hold a more reliable job, Couri just shrugs and smiles.
As a result, the small apartment the two share has cabinets full of splints, bandages, and potent pain medicine from Couri's adventures. He sometimes misses the nights of interrogations and panic from the first nights he came home injured. A flustered Fein ripping his hair out over anything bigger than a paper cut often led to Couri taking care of himself, which he didn't mind. Now, Fein just sighs, wrapping gauze and bandages on Couri's wounds without a second thought.
He thinks he likes these moments a little more.
"Couri, are you up for sitting up a little now?" Fein asks surprisingly softly, jolting Couri away from his reminiscing.
"U-uh yeah. Yeah. Hold on," Couri replies, a little lost in thought.
With Fein's arm pinned stubbornly at his side for support, Couri slowly pushes himself up, leaning at the base of the couch. He can breathe a little easier sitting up like this, too. In this position, Fein is on his knees, crouching over Couri's lap. Fein's head is a few inches from his chest, his ears almost brushing against it. Couri looks away after realizing he's been staring.
Fein stands up again, taking his hand away away from Couri's. "Look at your chest to see if you can figure out what's up with it. Your ribs are either bruised or cracked, I'm not sure," he sighs.
"I'm gonna get you some meds and water," Fein adds before he leaves.
Just before he's out of Couri's field of vision, Fein glances at him, pausing in his path. As Couri turns his head to face him better, Fein blinks in surprise before turning away again. His ears flick down on the top of his head slightly before he walks out of view.
Tentatively, Couri removes the ice pack from his skin. Almost immediately, a wave of heat and pain attacks him, making him cringe as he peers down to see the damage. It isn't pretty. A deep violet and scarlet stains his skin like little patches, wrapping around the bottom of his ribcage. Couri just sighs. It could be worse.
"Hey."
Fein appears suddenly at his side. Was he dozing off? "Put your ice pack back on and take these," he demands.
He hands Couri a glass and two red pills, which he accepts. He gulps down the medicine and sips on the water as Fein sits down next to him with a groan. Wordlessly, he places the icepack back on Couri's side before he has the chance to.
"Thanks," Couri whispers as he leans forward with a wince to stretch his wings, carefully positioning himself to not hit Fein. Eventually, he leans his head back into the couch cushions. He lets himself relax, especially his neck and back. Unintentionally, Couri's head lolls to his side and onto Fein's shoulder.
Couri speaks before he can think.
"Why were you looking at me?" he asks groggily into Fein's shoulder.
"I'm always looking at you," Fein mumbles. "Looking out for you, I mean."
"Hmm?"
Fein sighs. "Nothing," he grumbles.
Silence stretches between the two before Couri breaks it again. "You looked so," he pauses to think, "hurt."
"Hurt?" Fein scoffs.
Couri nods as best he can while not moving his head from its resting place. "Are you an empath, Feinberg?" Couri grins.
"It's not something I typically claim, no." Fein chuckles, letting his frown slip from his face.
Watching Fein relax makes Couri smile wide, like a kid getting candy.
"What?" Fein asks incredulously.
"Nothingg," Couri drawls, delirious.
"That pain medicine must be doing wonders for you, Couriway," Fein jokes as he lets his head fall on top of Couri's.
Pressed together, Couri lets his eyes close. They're quiet, sitting on the floor pressed against the couch. How domestic of them.
"Hey, Fein?" Couri chirps.
"Yeah?" Fein asks.
"Do you like me?"
"Yeah, I guess," Fein huffs, turning his head slightly against Couri's.
"Ohhhh," Couri murmurs as he nods as best he can.
Fein sighs with amusement. "What do you mean 'oh?' I don't do all of this for you because I hate you, genius."
"I like you a lot," Couri blurts, his voice barely above a whisper.
He feels Fein slump deeper into him. He doesn't respond for a while, allowing Couri's mind to drift off.
He thought Fein hadn't heard him, but he finally gets a few words out.
"I'm… glad," he sighs.
"Do you wanna know whyy or something?" Couri's words feel slurred to him. They probably are.
"God you are soo needy," Couri murmurs absentmindedly.
"Needy?" Fein bristles with offense. Couri mentally facepalms. He wasn't quiet enough for stupid Feinberg and his stupid ears.
"I'm needy?" Fein scoffs.
Couri sighs. "Noo, you're not," he groans as he burrows himself in his wings, encircling Fein as well.
"You're self-sufficient enough," he continues, "and you'd probably be better off without me."
He barely murmured the last part, but he could tell Fein heard. Some part of him wanted him to hear.
"You're-" Fein falters. "You're so fucking stupid," Fein finishes with a sigh, nudging Couri to the side.
The motion sends a wave of pain through his body, and Couri recoils.
"Shit." Fein jolts away in apology.
"No," Couri winces. "No, it's fine, it just surprised me," Couri laughs unconvincingly.
Fein's gaze darts from Couri's hand shielding his wound back to his eyes. Fein's eyes are wide and his eyebrows are furrowed.
An alarm goes off in Couri's head. "Why do you look so scared?" he murmurs, turning his head to the side, staring right back into Fein's dazed expression.
He just looks at him for another moment before turning away, staring at the ground in shame.
"Fein," Couri's voice trails off as he gets up with a groan. He doesn't know why he's moving, but slowly, he crawls towards Fein.
"Hey," Fein mutters warrily, sitting up straight. "What are you-"
He gets cut off as Couri silently wraps his arms around his waist, sighing as he reaches Fein. Couri feels Fein's breath hitch as he rests his head on his chest.
"Don't worry about me, Fein." Couri's voice is soft, nearly a purr into Fein's shirt. "I'll be ok."
After he finishes his reassurance, he feels Fein hug him back, slowly and carefully avoiding jostling him.
"I think you need to go to sleep," Fein teases after they sit there together. "You get really clingy when you're tired."
"Prolly," Couri yawns. Couri rambles deleriously, "but you probably like me better like this."
"I don't, actually," Fein corrects quickly. "I'd prefer if you didn't come home every other night halfway to death," he adds.
He shifts their position together, still keeping them entwined.
"I wish you remembered the shit we do when you're like this," Fein mutters quietly to himself.
"What was that?" Couri sighs softly.
"Couri," Fein's voice caves in on itself. "Couri, do you like your job?" he asks, rushed.
Couri stiffens his wings, staring up at Fein.
"It just," Fein hesitates. "How do you do it? Why do you keep doing it?"
Couri's answer is almost immediate, but barely above a whisper. "I love helping people," he replies. "It's- it's the best way I can. It's the only way I know how."
"But you need to help yourself too, y'know," Fein counters.
"Ok," Couri concedes.
"Ok?" Fein mirrors in a doubtful voice.
"I'd do anything for you," he grumbles, nuzzling himself deeper in the embrace.
His final words settle as Couri rests from exhaustion. Fein remains still, letting Couri fall asleep against him.
He only responds to Couri after he knows he's passed out.
"I know. That's what I will never understand about you."