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“…he’s going to kill us.”
“He- he’s not, right? Leo?”
“No, he’s definitely going to kill us. You got anywhere to run? Because I’ve got a nice safe house down south, it-“
“No, wait- Branzy- he said yes, Clown can’t be-“
“Oh, he can. Branzy said yes. You forget there’s two layers of authentication with this shit.”
“But… it was Branzy’s idea.”
“Yeah. You tell Clown that. I’ll be on a plane out of the country.”
“Leo-“
“I’m so serious, Min. Start running.”
——————
“They shouldn’t have-“
“Clown, I- I am fine.” Laughing, Branzy batted at Clown’s face, and received what could only be described as a furious look of pure restraint as Clown didn’t break his fingers for it. “I wanted to test what I could do! It- it was my idea, they couldn’t have done sh-“
“They shouldn’t have let you go out.” Clown went for his wrist, and Branzy knew better to resist, as it was pinned to the floor, and Clown went back to work on the other arm strapped to a medical surface Branzy had designed himself, it lit up from he bottom, and was conveniently adjustable for his team’s strange injuries. “They just shouldn’t have. I will talk to them.”
Branzy’s lips twisted in displeasure, and he watched Clown work carefully, threading a needle under his numbed flesh. It was of the reasons Clown was so anxious, having had to anaesthetise him as well as inject his usual treatment.
Branzy was grateful for that, at least. He’d have passed out from the pain otherwise. And maybe Clown was right that it had been stupid to go out without anything to stop a paper cut killing him.
But it had gone well.
“It- it went well, though! I got the- evidence, kinda stuff, that Minute said we needed-“
“Please, Branzy. Shut up.”
Branzy shut up. He imagined he could feel the bleeding in the deep gash down his forearm slowing under the coagulants, even if he couldn’t, because the whole area had no sensation, at the moment. A careful balance of pharmaceuticals he’d checked over himself while half-conscious, and Clown was less than pleased about having administered.
Sucked for him, then. Branzy didn’t do hospitals, not when he could do it perfectly well himself.
He’d done well training Clown, too, by the looks of it. His hands were steady with that needle. Branzy could watch, with a craftsman’s appreciation, as the shining silver tip dipped branch his skin, and now it was passing through his epidermis, and there was metal, inside his body, and he couldn’t feel it passing through his blood vessels and wending its way through his body…
——————
“Branzy!”
There was no more needle in his arm. Branzy stared dumbly, at his half-sewn skin, then dragged his eyes back over to Clown, and blinked at him, non-plussed by his teammate’s fraying composure.
“What? N- nice witches.”
“What the fuck was that?”
“Was what?”
Clown was closer than he’d been, a second ago. Perhaps Branzy had zoned out while he’d finished, he hadn’t loved thinking about that needle. Academically, fascinating, and a great wonder of modern medicine, but seeing it happen? A bit gross.
“You blacked out. Branzy- you’ve told me everything. They didn’t hurt you, or-“
“I- I told you.” Branzy’s brow furrowed, and he tried to move the fingers of his arm strapped to his miniature operating table. “No one saw me. Are you- are you okay, Clown?”
“You passed out, BranzyCraft. What fucking happened?”
“Nothing? I- I was just… watching, then I…”
Oh.
Branzy’s eyes lost focus, and he felt it, the dark blanket that had only just receded. It was still there. Was that what had happened between calling Minute and having to call him again? Was that why Minute had sounded so scared? Branzy had thought they were just worried about Clown.
Clown, who was staring at Branzy in the blank terror of the un-medically-educated, and the stitching kit was lying beside him, on an aseptic sheet on a low table.
So he wasn’t done. Branzy looked back at his wound, just as a thick drop of blood welled out like a tear from the very end of the stitchwork, unfinished, and the surface tension bursting, sending rivulets of crimson running down his pale scars, crossing them like a flood over a tilled field…
——————
“-holy...”
Clown was standing up, when Branzy startled back to consciousness, and seemed less than pleased when the first thing he did was grin.
“Branzy-“
“That is so fricking cool.”
“It is not.”
Minute appeared, and Branzy stared up at him in wonder, too, considering conveying the latest insane thing his body had decided to torture him with in his excitement.
Perhaps for the best, Minute just handed Clown a fresh injector Branzy recognised as one of his, and stood back as his teammate dropped back to his knees in front of him.
“Explain, Branzy. Now. Why you’re fainting.”
“Uh- b- blood loss, probably…” Branzy stared at his uninjured wrist, as Clown took it carefully, positioning the sharp point of the syringe against his blood vessel. “Didn’t… realise I could do that, that’s so-“
“If you say cool, you are never going outside again.”
“S- so scary! So scary, Clown, I- I wasn’t-“
“More explaining. Or hospital. Close your eyes”
Good threat. Branzy didn’t do well with hospitals.
Paying last-minute attention to Clown’s instruction, Branzy managed to avert his gaze, just before he had to see clotting agent injected into his bloodstream. It was… fine. He’d happily do it to someone else. It was just when it was him, and it was the same reason he didn’t like hospitals.
It was over quickly, and Clown pulled it out from under his skin, discarding it before Branzy could linger too much. The blood flow slowed from his other arm, gradually, and a little of the dizziness receded.
“Huh.” Minute was focused on Branzy, then swiftly turned slightly red, when he attracted both of their attention. “Sorry. Leo said we should be running away.”
“As well you should be.” Clown’s voice was quiet, and his thumb was still pressed against the inside of Branzy’s wrist. “BranzyCraft. You are never going outside again.”
“Th- that’s not how you take a pulse.” Smiling, Branzy moved his wrist out of Clown’s grasp, and demonstrated with the hand currently strapped down. “I’m okay.”
“You are not okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“Maybe… take Clown’s word for it?” Minute looked scared. Who knew what Leo had told him. “You worried us all, so-“
“But- it worked.”
Branzy was pretty happy with the situation, actually. Blood loss could mostly be solved by rest, and he’d be getting plenty of that, so this was an overall win. Fainting was a nice new bonus, too, he’d had experience, but it was fun to do it twice in a row.
“Not a good enough reason. Not remotely.”
“Aw… C- Clown…”
“Don’t. You’re not dying, and that is… saving Leo from fleeing the country. Although- Minute, if he’s already gone, don’t call after him?”
“I- think he just went to his cousin’s, actually. Or a bar.”
Clown hummed, unbuckling Branzy’s arm with an eerie calm. It was misleading. It was his homicidal-hum, and it was one of Branzy’s favourites. Up there with his over-affectionate-clingy-hum.
“In that case. I might wait up for him.”
That got Clown a truly pouty look from Branzy, who’d been hoping to have some emotional support tonight. He might be fineabsolutely fine, but that didn’t mean a reminder of his own ability to bleed out and die wasn’t a little upsetting.
“Um- Branzy, did you want Clown? Because… I can, if Clown really wants to…”
Oh, poor Minute, over-apologetic and paying for it with a suspiciously bemused look from Clown that made him wilt where he stood. It was a bizarre suggestion, but Branzy couldn’t help but soften at his genuine nervousness. It was cute.
Clown shot a questioning look back at Branzy, who responded with a small smile. Yes. Minute would be fine. Branzy was hardly going to stand between Clown and Leo fighting it out about his wellbeing.
Returning his gaze to Minute, who looked half a beat away from slinking away like an abashed cat, Clown cocked his head.
“Sure. If he tries to run away, don’t let him.”
Branzy turned red. So did Minute, really, even if it was cancelled out by how pale he’d gone at Clown’s acceptance. It had been a lovely idea to redeem himself in Clown’s graces, but Branzy was known not to be easy.
Not that he’d make himself difficult on Minute. If taking care of him would give Minute the courage to ask Clown for forgiveness, who was he not to be used as a pawn in his teammates’ complex social hierarchy? He’d get cuddles out of it either way.
“Um.”
“Kidding. If either of you hear me murdering Leowook, don’t come look.”
Branzy nodded seriously, believing Clown’s every word with his entire heart. It was a good policy. Particularly when he had just passed out twice, and was lacking a lot of blood cells, and maybe the nodding carried on a little too long to prove himself to be entirely fine.
He looked up at Minute, and forced his slightly limp hands into the air, waiting patiently. He’d been sitting down for ages. His foot was numb.
Clown took his hands, and Branzy wasn’t arguing, because if it was Clown, he had no qualms about collapsing directly onto him as soon as he was pulled to his feet. Clown was comfy like that, and Branzy took pleasure in being an irritant.
In this case, though, it wasn’t a choice. At all.
A small gasp forced itself out of him as Branzy felt his limited blood go- everywhere, inside him, except his head, which was suddenly spinning, and-
Well, Clown was comfy to faint into, too.