Adult Content Warning
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Summary
"You're an idiot," Paul says when they're alone again, shaking his head as he shuffles around to stand behind John, and the shadowed sight of the cut at the crown of John's head makes his stomach lurch, "you need stitches."
"Can't be that bad."
"Is, though."
"Can't be, barely even hit me head! Just a bonk on the way down."
Paul wants to argue. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs that John's lucky his bloody skull is so thick. He settles for just puffing up his cheeks with a big, big breath, holding it, and letting it out in a big, big rush.
And calling John an idiot again.
"S'at nice, Bunny? S'at a nice thing t'call your knight in shining armor?" John asks, and he's so bloody loud when he's drunk, and he cackles to himself as he reaches back to paw sloppily at Paul's hip.
"You're no knight," Paul responds coolly, and mercifully, it seems like the bleeding is slowing up. "And that had nothin' to do with me, so don't go draggin' me into it."
That's not strictly true, and Paul knows that, but what else is he supposed to say?
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or: what's the difference between a drunken brawl and defending your beloved's honor, anyway?