Work Text:
Honestly, you weren’t even sure why you’d cut again.
It didn’t feel like a decision–No, this wasn’t a choice on your part, but a last-ditch effort to simply feel again. It didn’t matter, though. In the end, you were still caught in a daze, pupils blown to oblivion as blood slowly trickled from your veins.
It was an odd sensation; it stung and prickled as the numbing warmth bloomed across your skin. You knew the high wouldn’t last long, but for a moment, it almost felt comforting. You didn’t–couldn’t think like this. For once, your mind was blessedly empty as you stared off into space.
Distantly, you thought you could hear the thud, thud, thud, of heavy boots growing closer as the ancient floorboards whined underneath their weight.
Wonder who that is…?
The thought floated through your mind as you closed your eyes, letting out a lazy sigh. The boys had gone out on a mission tonight, something urgent, according to the boss. Either way, you couldn’t be bothered. The static ringing through your head was louder than usual that morning, and by the time you’d finished training, it had become mind-numbing.
So, here you were, blissed out and bloody in the cold porcelain tub that sat in the upstairs bathroom.
But it didn’t last long as the high “creeaaak!" of the rusted doorknob dragged you from your reverie. You barely had time to sit up, much less hide the gory mess that was your arm before he walked in. You looked at him, and he mindlessly stared back, looking a bit shocked until he glanced down at your arm. The air seemed to tighten and freeze, and all at once, you could feel it–the bitter, cold weight of judgement.
Fuuuuuuucck.
His tall, lanky frame stood stock still in the doorframe, and looking at you with a mix of confusion and concern, he stepped inside. Messy brown hair grazed his shoulders, which were covered by that old hoodie he wore constantly, and you tried your best to look away from your…friend? Situationship? Weird housemate that you occasionally made out with but could never really speak to??
Toby, you decided. You tried your best to look away from Toby.
“Your arm’s pretty fucked up.” You groaned internally, tugging your sleeve down.
Toby. Toby, who had absolutely no tact or social awareness.
“Yeah?” You glanced down at your arm, then back up at him. “Hadn’t really noticed, thanks for letting me know.” You shot out, sarcastically.
“N- no problem!” He smirked, stepping closer as if nothing had happened.
You knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but it was hard to stop the bitterness clouding your mind. Irritated and embarrassed, you clumsily stood up in the tub and were immediately hit with a wave of dizziness. You were trying to catch your balance when Toby suddenly intruded on your personal space, steadying you with a hand around your waist.
His hand was warm on your back, so close that you could’ve counted the freckles on his face. You pointedly ignored the heat crawling up the back of your neck as spots darted around your vision, causing you to sway on your feet. Feeling unsteady, you stumbled forward, forehead bumping into his chest, you clutched his arm for support.
“Whoa- Hey- hey, I've got ya’. I got ya” He mumbled into your hair as he pulled you closer, supporting your shaky frame with his own.
“M'gonna sit- sit you down here, okay?”
Gently, he lifted you up onto the bathroom counter, hands never leaving you, even for a moment. Your head was still swimming, and you tried to shove down the panic rising in your chest. But it was no use, fear crashed over you in a wave, and you choked on your own breath.
He might have been saying something, but you couldn't hear it over the rush of blood in your ears. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't breathe.
Everything was too painful, too sharp and bright. You screwed your eyes tight, trying to somehow keep the tears in.
He looked at you, awkward, a bit scared, and then he slowly slid his hands from your waist to cup the back of your neck.
“Shit- uh, it's- it's okay! You're okay, right? Every- Everything's fine.” He stumbled over the words, alarm clear in his voice.
“Fuck. Fuck- I don't- I dunno what to do- (Name)? Please? Please calm down, I'm-”
He looked around wildly as if God might take pity on him and tell him how to fix this.
He clumsily leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, grabbing your hand a bit tighter than necessary.
Pulling your hands to his, he stared, searching your eyes for some kind of answer.
“It- it's okay, yeah? Y'gotta breathe though- Please, c'mon, just breathe with me.”
He took in a breath, overexaggerated in the way that made it clear he was trying to make a point.
You tried your best to follow him, chest hiccupping as you struggled to match his pace.
“There ya’ go.” He somehow pressed his face impossibly closer.
“That's b- better, right?” You slowly came down, slumping against his shoulder in exhaustion. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing against you as he wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small circles on the taut muscles in your back. You could practically hear the relief in his breath.
Eventually, the world stopped spinning, and you could breathe normally again. Embarrassment quickly crept in, shame hanging heavy over your shoulders.
“M'sorry.” You mumbled against his neck, trying to hide from the embarrassment you felt. You hated this–being open, raw, and exposed for him to see. You braced for impact, the disappointment, yelling; the reaction was different every time, but the result was all the same.
“S’okay, I get it.” He said softly, and the strike never came. No judgment, no pity, just understanding. It made your head feel fuzzy in a way you’d never known before. You sighed, looking up from your spot against his neck. Suddenly feeling the need to put space between you, you gently pushed him back from the counter and stood up on your wobbly knees.
His eyes widened, and he moved to clutch your arms, seemingly afraid you’d fall again.
“D- don’t think you should be move- moving a lot right now.” Worry wove its way between his brow. There had been a moment where the two of you were soft; the only thing holding you together was the other.
But it was over now, you shoved him back, roughly this time as you scowled and looked away. “It’s fine, I’ll handle it.” You brushed him off, pausing for a bit before looking back at him.
“Sorry you had to see this.” You said curtly and started to walk off toward the door when he caught your wrist. Pain flared up in your arm as he dug blunt nails into your wounds. You cried out, wrenching your arm away from him. He almost looked betrayed as you yelled at him.
“What the fuck! Toby–What the hell is wrong with you–” You glared at him as he stepped closer, seeming nervous and furious all at once.
“I’m not stupid, (Name)! I kno- know you’re not gonna take care of it.” He leveled a stare at you, closing in on your personal space.
“You- You’ll let it rot, and fester, and slowly let yourself die until- til the boss drags your useless corpse around and- and”
His voice pitched up, distress becoming apparent as he grabbed onto your shoulders. You could see his mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying anymore. You were exhausted, all you wanted to do was pass out, but it was clear that Toby wasn’t letting that be an option.
“Fine! Fine! Goddamn, Rogers- Relax! I’ll take care of it, Jesus.” You rolled your eyes, sighing exasperatedly through it.
“I wanna make sure.”
“What? Toby-”
“Gotta make- make sure it’s done right. S’not like you know how to do stitches anyway.” He snarked.
“Oh, and you do?” You fired back. Fine, if he wanted to be petty, you could be petty.
This time, he rolled his eyes, an exaggerated gesture as he dragged you back to the bathroom counter.
“I do ‘em better than you can. Last time you tried, you ended up hitting an artery.” He picked you up by the waist again and gracelessly plopped you on the counter. You gripped onto his shoulders, squawking as he knelt down, rummaging underneath the sink.
“That’s not fair! How am I supposed to focus when you’re giggling like a maniac!” You poked a finger at his chest as he brought out the med kit and leaned back against the wall in front of you.
“And your bedside manner is even wor- worse! Some shit- shitty medic you are.” He snickered, shooting you a smirk before opening up the med kit and putting the supplies on the counter.
You glowered, wrapping your arms around yourself as he set out a needle, lighter, and what looked like an old bottle of vodka.
Christ.
“Y’know ya can’t actually clean a wound with liquor, right?” You pointed out, lip curling back into a smile.
“Duh- Duh. Told you, m’not stupid. S’for the pain.” He muttered under his breath as he wet a rag, setting it aside. Moving back to you, he lightly put his hands around your sides, tugging at sweat-stuck fabric there.
“Y’need to take-” He looked away, heat spreading through his face. “Take this off.”
You leaned back, laughing, “Wow, Rogers, first I gotta drink, now I gotta strip? Didn’t take you for that kinda guy.” You cocked an eyebrow as he fumbled over himself, face flushing at the edges.
“Wh- No- No!” He just opened and closed his mouth for a minute, baffled, searching for words.
“The blood- blood’s already dried to your shirt.” He ducked his head down, looking embarrassed, pretending to look in the med kit.
“That one’s your favorite, right? S’just take it—Take it off before you mess it up.” He glanced back at you, acting casual.
“B’sides, I need you to- to take- take a look at my back later, so, we’ll be even.”
“Sure, whatever you say, man.” You snorted a breath, rolling your eyes as you gently peeled the sticky sleeve away from the wound. Once that was done, you grabbed the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. You decided to ignore the way his breath hitched as you did so.
“Y’gonna clean me up, doc?” You cocked your head, snapping him from his daze.
“Yeah- Yeah.” Leaning over your hand, he picked up the rag and began gently dabbing away the blood. A sharp hiss escaped your teeth as he did so. Damn, must’ve gone deeper than you thought. You tilted your head back, making a vague ‘gimme’ gesture as he worked.
“Rogers- Rogers, get me that bottle.” You groaned as the pain laced up your arm.
“Thought you did- didn’t wanna drink?” He grinned, pressing particularly hard as he slowly dragged the rag against your skin.
“Dammit, Toby, if you don’t get me that thing now–I’ll bash your head in with it!” You all but yelled as he giggled, passing you the bottle of surely stale vodka.
You snatched it from him, tossing the cork God knows where and knocking back the biggest swig you could handle. You choked, swallowing down the burning sensation to distract you from the pain in your arm.
You coughed, sputtering out, “Fuck- Goddamn-” You scrunched up your face at the aftertaste, grateful that Toby was focused on your arm instead.
“That good, huh?” He muttered, sarcasm apparent as he delicately wiped the last of the blood away.
Raising his head, he looked up at you; warm amber eyes flickering through dark eyelashes, a smattering of freckles dotted over his cheeks, the slight cleft in his lip from a particularly messy mission. It was unbearable, having his full attention on you like this. Your skin felt scorched under his gaze, insides melting just looking at him.
You weren’t sure what to do. Shove him, pull him closer, run away, and forget this even happened? Your mind was reeling, poring over every possibility when he brought you back again.
“You good?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and it shook you all at once–how gentle he was being with you.
“Yeah- yeah, I-” The words tumbled from your mouth as you glanced down, eyes tracing over the shape of his bitten lips.
Tilting his head down further to catch your eyes, he spoke, “Should, prob- probably get those stitches in now, y’know.”
“Right, okay.” Your voice came out as a hoarse whisper as he sat up, tossing the rag in the sink.
He shuffled through the supplies, grabbing an old needle and running it under the sink before flicking the lighter on to sterilize it. Watching it cool, he silently threaded it, tongue poking out as he worked it through.
“S’gonna hurt, okay? Just breathe- breathe through it.” He mumbled as he leaned over you once more, firmly pinching the area on your arm.
You nodded frantically, gripping the counter tighter to brace yourself. Your heart was hammering in your chest as another mumble came out. “Jus’ relax…” And before you could think, you felt the sharp, searing pain of the needle piercing through your skin.
“FUck!” You cried out, throwing your head back and slamming it into the mirror. Toby startled, hand jerking in a way that sent another shock of pain up your arm.
“Shit! Shit, I’m- I’m sorry! I-” But before he could say another word, you took a fistful of his hair and glared at him.
“Rogers. Get this shit over with now, or I swear to God-” You gritted out.
He nodded, a bit panicked, and got back to work. You leaned your aching head back against the cool mirror, gripping onto his shoulder for support to bear the pain. With every hiss or curse you let out, Toby responded with low murmurs that made your heart hammer.
“Shh..M’almost done, promise.” On a particularly deep cut.
“M’sorry- I’m sorry, pretty.” After a stitch pulled too tight.
“S’okay, I got- I got you.” When he brought home the final one.
With a quick knot, he tied the stitch off and looked back up at you.
“All done.”
“All done,” The words fell from your mouth as you finally met his eyes again. The worried twitch in his brow was softer now, and there was a faint quirk to the side of his mouth. A heavy sigh escaped your chest as you leaned forward on his shoulder.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do all that.”
“Still gotta wrap it up- it up.”
“M'kay.”
You sat back, mind numb and fuzzy from the proximity, watching as he gingerly wrapped the soft cotton around your arm. You didn’t want to move–didn’t want to break whatever soft, fragile thing was forming between you. You wanted to surround yourself with it, bury your face in it, and lose yourself in its warm embrace.
Maybe you could rest for once, things could be calm, comfortable in a way they never were. Maybe you could finally have something–something good, and soft, and warm, and you would never be cold again.
He finished wrapping your arm, hands unmoving from their spot there. Your eyes shifted to the movement, then up at him. Somehow, in those few moments, he had gotten closer, nose brushing against yours. Somehow, even stranger, you couldn’t find it in yourself to back away.
Warm, honeyed eyes met yours, searching your face for any hints of discomfort. The moment didn’t last much longer; you tilted your head, almost imperceptibly, flicked your eyes down to the old divot in his lip, and it was over.
He leaned forward, lips meeting yours with a gentle sort of awkwardness, and the knot in your chest undid itself. It was clumsy at first; firm, slightly chapped lips moving against yours until your brain caught up. You snaked your arms around his neck, drawing him closer as you leaned back further against the counter, all but yanking him on top of you.
A cut-off giggle escaped his chest, and he moved his hand from its spot on the counter to rest firmly on your hip. He grinned, teeth clicking against yours playfully.
“Ow- Rogers!” You barely got the words out before he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue flicking past your lips in a way that was more intoxicating than anything you’d had.
You lost yourselves in it, shifting and moving against each other lazily. The faint taste of blood grazed your tongue from his thoroughly bitten lips, but you found you didn’t mind at all. It wasn’t perfect–not by any measurable standard, yet it was exactly what you wanted.
His hands raked up your sides, eventually coming to rest on either side of your jaw. He pressed lightly, eliciting a small gasp as he opened your jaw further.
Insatiable. You thought lightly as he explored your mouth, grazing over every part of you. You sighed, pulling him impossibly closer as you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the wild strands. A low groan reverberated through his chest as he squished his face against yours, rubbing against you like a cat.
You couldn’t help but laugh as you kissed him, chaste this time. It was just a simple press of the lips, but it made your chest soar regardless. Smiling against him, you covered his face with a flurry of kisses, causing him to laugh in turn. You leaned back just enough to catch your breath, and he quickly chased after you, eagerness on full display.
Giggling, you tugged his hair back, keeping him in place as you placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Pretty sure we still need to patch you up.” You mumbled against his lips as he twisted his face in mock confusion.
“What?”
“Your back. Y’said you needed me to take a look at your back.” You quirked an eyebrow, shooting him a knowing look.
“Oh..” He mumbled, “I was jus’ gonna glue it up later.”
“Glue?”
“Yeah, s’quicker that way.”
You rolled your eyes, shoving a hand in his face, pointedly ignoring his complaints.
“Rogers, you cannot possibly believe you’d get away with supergluing your back shut after giving me all that shit about taking care of myself.”
“Why not- not? S’not like it hurts or anything.” He shrugged, waving your hand from his face.
Irritation prickled under your skin, giving way to exasperation. “Dude, you literally have the ‘I can’t feel pain’ disorder-”
“So?”
“So, just because it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t mean it’s good for you, dumbass!” You covered your face with your hands, hiding the stupid smile that crawled its way onto your face.
He wasn’t perfect, but he was exactly what you wanted.