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It happens too fast.
One moment, there’s a micropipette in one hand, the neck of a round-bottomed flask in the other. Only ten microliters, smaller than a single drop.
The second that the liquid from the pipette hits the solution, a murky dark blue swirling into a much larger volume of yellow- it explodes.
Elias can’t help the surprised scream that tears itself from his throat as liquid splatters over his lab coat, desk, and the rest of the workstation, glass shooting out into the room. He’s lucky that he’s wearing both goggles and a mask– shards ricochet off where they might have typically embedded into his face.
He instinctively takes a step back, something crunching under his heel. “Fuck.”
Thick, pungent yellow fumes have already begun to rise from the disaster. The solution itself is soaking into his shirt, leaving a too-hot burning sensation where it sticks.
There’s a gash on his arm where he’d rolled his sleeves up, and something sticky and warm trailing slowly down his neck.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Eli, you, stupid idiot..” Heart racing, he discards both the micropipette and the remains of the flask, wincing as more fragments of glass make themselves known–embedded in his left hand, sitting among the shredded remains of his glove.
“I have to…get this aired out first, the fumes are a hazard…shit.” Resisting the urge to press his hands to his face–though impossible through his goggles–Elias screws his eyes shut. As the shock wears off his body starts to scream and ache. Both his injuries and chemical-tainted skin protest angrily at any movement. Despite the pain, he manages to make his way to the ventilation system.
Streams of red run down his forearms as he tries to adjust the knobs. With shaking, slippery hands, he manages to redirect most of the laboratory’s airflow, making sure that the gas won’t creep its way into the rest of the building.
Okay. Okay. Okay.
The scientist staggers, leaning against the far wall as he tries to maintain his composure, to wrangle his mind into thinking clearly. He runs a hand down his face on instinct and it leaves a smear of red behind.
Everything is tinted acidic-yellow, both the spreading gas and the liquid staining his goggles obscuring his view. Elias jumps as his lab door slams open.
“Are you okay? I heard–”
Caelen. The officer stops short at the sight– charred workstation, a cloud of gas, glass pieces glittering on the floor. And Elias, using the wall to hold his weight, covered in chemicals, glass, and blood.
“Wait, Cae, don’t-” come in, it’s dangerous–
“You’re bleeding.” Ears suddenly upright, tail rigid and tense. “What happened?”
Elias blinks and there’s a figure in front of him, voice cutting through a ringing in his ears he had barely been aware of. “Cae…? The fumes, you…shouldn’t be in here...”
Gentle, gloved hands take his wrists, alarmed grey eyes flicking over the blood dripping from his fingers. “You’re bleeding, Eli.”
“...n’t be near me either…”
The world starts to blur together, hazy and yellow. His lungs burn. He chokes on a breath.
Everything comes to him in flashes. Tipping over. Overhead lights. Light tugs at his clothes. Cloth being dabbed over his neck and chest. Agony like his skin is being torn apart. Parts and pieces of yellow in his vision fading to white, worried voices, some shouting, some murmuring unintelligibly. A weight over his face disappearing, inhaling– -. .
Elias wakes up aching. His hand, his forearm, his neck, all sting like needles are pricking his skin, and a quiet groan escapes him as his eyes open with strained effort.
Lukewarm, soapy water sloshes against his bare shoulders. He’s submerged almost entirely in a tub, knees bent and poking out, the water just barely brushing against his throat.
“Eli?” Fingers run through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Are you…?”
He tips his head back, ignoring the soreness in his neck.
Caelen hovers above him. Instead of his typical uniform, he’s dressed much more casually in a wooly jacket zipped over his chest and loose pants. Blue elastic gloves stretch over his hands and to his elbows, claws close to tearing the plastic.
“Hi,” Elias manages, immediately wincing at the hoarseness of his throat, the pain of speaking. “Cae.”
“Hello,” Caelen chirps back, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Good morning. What do you remember?” There’s a soft sploosh as the officer dips his hands into the water, helping him sit up properly. “Wait, actually–drink this first.”
A plastic bottle makes its way into his vision, punctured through the cap by a metal straw. When he takes the bottle and raises it to his lips he can see the cut on his forearm, mostly sealed but red and stinging from the soap.
There’s no burns…?
“I remember… the explosion.” Elias pauses to clear his throat, memory foggy. “It…wasn’t supposed to react that way. I don’t know…why that happened.”
“Mhmm, I thought so.” Caelen brushes a hand through his hair again. “Anything else?”
“...did I– I think I rerouted the vents…and you came in.”
The recollection has Elias straightening abruptly, hissing through his teeth but still whirling on the other. “You shouldn't have come in, Cae.” His eyes are panicked and wild, skittering over the officer. “You shouldn’t have touched me either, that stuff is toxic–”
“Your mask was broken, Eli. You were inhaling so much–”
“I was already contaminated and– and it was my mess in the first place, you weren’t–”
“Did you know that your mask was broken? Because–”
“I know that I’ve handled worse results of experiments gone wrong.” Elias sucks in a violent breath, fear running through his veins, controlling his thoughts. If any of them got hurt because of him— “You haven’t, Cae, and you shouldn’t have tried to help, I– I’m the only one who’s supposed to–”
to get hurt. Because at least he knows the risks he’s taking. Because relying on the help of others will inevitably get them hurt, because he can’t let it be his fault, can’t mess up–
“You were bleeding from cuts everywhere and there were chemical burns all over your skin.” Caelen sucks a breath in forcefully, eyes alight. The furrow between his brow deepens. “Ash and Shiki had to use magic to fix the worst of it, including your lungs. If I hadn’t been there you would have—.”
You would have died. Elias shivers involuntarily, the fight draining out of him. He can’t argue against that.
A bubble pops against his leg. He feels too exposed, skin bared to the cold, defenses worn down by a dull pain.
He didn’t know that the mask was– cracked? Broken? He’d been careless. And that same carelessness had jeopardized the life he’d stolen a second chance at.
Caelen shouldn’t have been there. But if he wasn’t then Elias would’ve been–
“You scared me, Eli.”
“I’m sorry.”
It’s not really necessary to say, not when Caelen can probably smell the guilt seeping out of him, but he has to say it anyways. “You know that my– my experiments are dangerous. I just... don’t like the idea of anyone getting hurt because of my stupid mistakes.”
“Anyone else, you mean.” There’s still a roughness to the officer’s voice, a hint of frustration. “You don’t want anyone else to get hurt, but you’re okay with it if it’s you.”
Elias shakes his head rapidly, goosebumps rising across his skin as the bathwater starts to chill. “That’s not…!”
“Do you know how worried we were?!” One of Caelen’s gloves finally rips as his clawed fingers flex into fists, brows furrowing. “You don’t get to scold me for getting near you when you were in danger. I’d rather breathe in a little gas than let you suffocate or– or bleed to death. No matter how hazardous those fumes were.”
There's nothing he can say to that.
There’s nothing he can do except swallow any argument he’d had, shoving it back down alongside the lump in his throat.
Do you know how worried we were?
God, when was the last time he’d…
“You’re too sweet to me,” Elias chuckles eventually, weakly averting his gaze. “Really, Cae. I…” He trails off, unsure of what to say. “Thank you.”
“It’s not something you should thank me for,” the officer mutters, his voice losing its edge. After a beat, he sighs, ordering: “Lie back down. Let me finish washing your hair.”
It’s hard for him to relax, as the water finally loses any warmth it had retained. Cold rivulets run down his face and neck. A minute tremble makes itself known in stiff limbs, goosebumps rising across Elias’ skin.
If it didn’t feel as if he were sitting in an iceberg, the soft drag of Caelen’s nails across his scalp could’ve sent him to sleep. Elias closes his eyes, biting his cheek in an attempt to keep his teeth from chattering.
“Almost done,” Caelen soothes apologetically. “You cold?”
The question is somewhat rhetorical, as it is obvious that he is, but Elias finds himself nodding. In an attempt to make conversation, to distract himself, he questions, “Why am I in a tub, anyways? It’s not safe to soak like this after a chemical spill.”
Especially when Caelen’s glove is now ripped almost all the way down to the wrist, his forearm almost fully submerged in the water.
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” The officer pulls his hands away, finally finished. He tugs the plastic gloves from his hands with his teeth, idly discarding them in a nearby trash can, and hands a fluffy white towel to Elias. “You were already…clean, technically. I just…”
Curiosity overtaking him as Caelen trails off, or more likely sensing an opportunity to tease, the scientist raises a brow. “Huuuh?” He steps out from the bathtub, quickly snuggling into the towel, shivers diminishing under the cloth. Elias’ eyes don’t leave the other man as he dries himself off. “Just what, Cae?”
No response. From the fogged-up reflection in the mirror, Elias catches the blood rising to the hybrid’s face. He glances around, realizing the unfamiliarity of the bathroom–it’s not his. A hand towel with pawprints on it, bottles on the counter arranged neatly, mirror round instead of rectangular.
When Caelen turns, his cheeks are flushed red. A couple quick strides has him leaning over Elias, voice lowering to settle in his ears. You still smelled like chemicals to me. It was unpleasant.”
Elias tips closer, fingers brushing over the soft edges of the towel. “And what– what do I smell like now?”
“You smell like me,” Caelen breathes, self-satisfied despite his embarrassment.
Ohhhhhh.
Huh.
The scientist wonders absurdly if it's blood or delight that rushes to his face, painting it pink.
"Like you, huh?"
Caelen hums his affirmation, gaze lingering for a moment before beginning to coax Elias towards the door. "...you can borrow some of my clothes."
He does, shrugging into the simple button-down pyjama set that's tossed his way. It's a familiar blue-grey color similar to Caelen's uniform jacket– comfortable. Warm.
The officer– who had disappeared back into the bathroom as he was changing– re-emerges carrying a box with a red cross on the cover, and Elias groans. “Really? Now?”
“Yes, now.” Caelen huffs. “You’re still injured, you know.”
For once, Elias feels like the dog in the relationship as the other man gestures to the foot of the bed. “Sit down, it’s easier.”
He tilts his neck back as a soft cloth dabs over the cuts in his skin, gentle yet firm. But with the water still dripping from his hair, it’s almost impossible to fully dry the area, and after a few moments Caelen withdraws with a contemplative frown. “...can you tie your hair?”
“Oh, yeah,” and despite his agreement Elias pauses. “…do you have a tie? I usually keep spares in my coat, but I don’t…”
But, he has no idea where that coat is at the moment, and he’s wearing Caelen’s very comfy pajamas instead, so.
“Don’t tell Shiki I took this from him,” Caelen murmurs in response, lowering his voice almost comically like the shikigami can hear his voice from the quiet bubble of the room. He passes a simple black hair tie into Elias’ hands.
“Of course, of course,” Elias whispers back, huffing out a laugh that’s more of an exhale but carries his mirth nonetheless. He gathers the messy strands at the back of his head with one hand, then hesitates again. “...Cae?”
“Hm?”
“Can– could you…” The scientist sighs. “I can’t curl my fingers on this hand.”
His left hand, which had taken the brunt of the glass damage, shakes minutely. The muscles tense, then flinch back before his hand can even begin to form half of a fist, failing to properly grip and pull the hairtie as the movement aggravates the small slices across his fingers.
They don’t bleed- yet- but blood from underneath seems to press against the thin, barely healed skin, waiting to burst out.
“I can,” Caelen agrees quickly. He’s no stranger to injury, but something about the way that Elias regards the split skin– the look in his eyes– is unsettling.
Claw-tipped fingers brush gently against Elias’ nape, the bed creaking as Caelen leans forward over the scientist to gather his hair in one hand, slowly looping the tie around it with the other. “Too tight?”
“That’s good, thank you,” Elias breathes, somewhat soothed by the minute tugs against his scalp. “I guess I have to be more careful with that hand now…”
He leans forward tiredly, pressing his forehead against Caelen’s shoulder. Both of them ignore that he’s only pretending to fix Elias’ hair now, combing his fingers through the bunch of teal at the nape of his neck.
“I hate getting hurt in the lab,” the scientist sighs, almost inaudible. “It hurts, obviously, but it’s more annoying when something puts me out of commission and I’ve got work t’do.”
“You always have work to do,” Caelen responds, half-joking, but there’s a note of sincerity in his voice that makes Elias glance up.
“Yeah.”
A moment passes. Then, quietly, Caelen mutters against the top of Elias’ hair. “You know, I don’t like it when you get hurt either.”
Elias’ lips purse and flatten guiltily.
“I do try to avoid it,” he breathes, huffing a laugh. “I try my best, but it comes with the work. Risk is what yields results. You understand.”
The officer sighs. “I do.”
He crouches in front of the bed then, drying his hands carefully before reaching for the bandages again. A quick pat down and then one, two, three loops around Elias’ neck, the white cloth close to brushing his collarbones. Like muscle memory, Caelen ties a knot off smoothly. “Is it good?”
“It’ll hold,” Elias mumbles back, head drooping just the slightest bit. He rolls up his sleeves carefully to let Caelen wrap the rest of the half-healed cuts. The soft touches of gentle claws and soft fabric slowly trickle oxytocin down his spine, and the scientist’s blinks grow longer in duration.
All that concept– risk, reward– protecting the rest of them from his experiments while needing to protect himself? It’s too complicated. Too many variables. Too many possibilities.
It’s better to have just one variable. Just him.
Even if things got out of his control today.
“You know– when I was at– the precinct,” Caelen starts, and Elias’ attention is tugged out of the drowsy puddle of his brain, “When I got hurt I had…people. To help me fix myself up.”
His ears droop.
It’s a semi-sensitive topic– Caelen’s release from the police force– and Elias raises a bandaged hand to stroke his hair gently, mind already spinning with thoughts.
“Do you get what I mean?” The officer packs the first aid kit up. His gaze is imploring when it meets Elias’ again. “You can let us try and help you, too..”
“You make it sound so simple,” Elias whispers, a little sadly. “It’s not that easy.”
“It is,” Caelen insists. “Even if you don’t want help in the lab, you– you’re not alone, you know.” He takes Elias’ uninjured hand in his own, brushing the pads of his fingers over the knuckles as he hesitates. “You can always come to me.”
His voice is earnest, eyes pleading and puppylike– and damn is it hard to say no to that face.
Elias ducks his head, throat tightening. “...okay.”
“Okay,” Caelen echoes, getting to his feet with the first-aid kit tucked under one arm.
“Wait.”
He stops.
The scientist chews on his bottom lip, fingers toying with the edge of the bedsheets. “...come here.”
Caelen crouches in front of him again, brows furrowing. “Is something–”
A quick hand grabs the front of his shirt and tugs him down.
Soft lips plant an equally soft kiss to Caelen’s forehead.
Elias pulls away, a satisfied smile crossing his face in the split-second before he turns and wriggles deep into the blankets. “Thanks, Cae.”
Caelen is left standing, face aflame and tail swishing.
“...anytime.”