[ He hadn't meant to start anything with that kiss. It had been a gesture and a show of affection, a way to express a deeper meaning than the inadequate words he'd cobbled together. But then Locus kisses him back and Felix is weak. So weak. Because resistance is out of the question and he shifts closer as the kiss takes on an edge not of his own making. He's just lifting his hand, aiming to rest it against the side of Locus' neck when he jerks backward.
Memory comes rushing back. Gunshot wound. Stitches. Stubborn idiot who refuses to take medication to help himself.
Cursing, Felix hovers awkwardly at Locus' side, unable to properly see what's going on or actually do anything for the pain. Did the stitches tear? Is Locus bleeding everywhere? Locus is cursing, indicative of the level of pain he's in and restless, helpless frustration wells up inside of Felix, impossible to ignore. ]
Shit. [ He gets off the bed, jostling Leon in the process, and moves around to the other side, snatching up both the glass of water and the painkillers. One of his shins gets banged in the process, but Felix ignores it and even more carefully climbs back into the bed. ] Stop being a stubborn asshole and take the pills.
[ Argumentative as the words might be, Felix's tone is soft, concerned and failing to hide it. ]
I can—I set a flashlight over here before we went to sleep. Is it bleeding again? Maybe I should check it.
[ The jostling makes him have another jolt of pain but he keeps it to himself. They should probably get a better mattress. Gritting his teeth, he shifts over more so Felix has room on the other side. Even though it's so cold out, he's broken a slight sweat.
Maybe he should take those pills.
So, he takes them and the water from Felix, wordlessly accepting it and swallowing them down. This feels weak. Since when can't he just grit through and bear the pain? The packet and water are discarded on the other nightstand as Locus rearranges himself on the bed again. ]
It's not bleeding.
[ He almost says it's fine, but it's not that fine and knowing Felix it will start an argument. He's really not interested in that.
As a means to move on, he reaches for Felix's arm to tug him close. It will be better to get comfortable and... maybe not resume exactly as they were, but something. ]
[ Thank fucking Christ he takes the pills. Felix breathes out such a heavy sigh of relief when Locus takes them from him that he can probably feel the gust of air that's displaced by it. The wound isn't fine. Nothing about Locus having been shot is fine and it's probably for the best that he doesn't keep insisting that it is.
That he takes the pills is both a balm for Felix's nerves and telling of how much pain he must be in. It's a shame the son of a bitch who shot him is dead, if only because Felix really wants to kill him again. Slower this time. So it hurts more.
Visions of further retribution dissipate as Locus tugs his arm. Snapping back to the moment, Felix complies with it, shifting closer until he's pressed against Locus' side. He drags the covers up as high as they'll go and twists sideways, curling the length of his body into his side so that he's sharing as much of his body heat as he can without aggravating the wound. ]
[ The day feels incredibly long. Locus can wager a guess as to how much time they have before sunrise and that time is growing shorter still. Good thing they've got blackout curtains because Locus is certain they're both going to sleep well into the day tomorrow. And though he'd never admit it out loud, he's looking forward to it. His body is just too tired.
When Felix begins to arrange himself next to him, Locus, too, arranges himself so he's comfortable. One arm is stretched out beneath the pillows to facilitate the idea of no space between them. It's just logic, really! No space means no cold air. His other hand seeks a place that won't aggravate his side and he winds up curling his fingers slightly around Felix's upperarm. By and large Locus isn't a caretaker or comfort-giver—mostly because it feels far too awkward—but he maintains the connection to provide some sort of grounding for Felix. For all he knows it might not help, all things considered. But, perhaps it will.
He feels Leon make himself comfortable on his other side, along the line of his leg. Locus just sighs. ]
No. [ a beat; his thumb twitches once before he rubs it over Felix's skin a few times. ] Do you?
[ There's a certain amount of self-reflection necessary to realize that Locus' physical presence staves off the worst of the nightmares and that's in large part why Felix tends to plaster himself against him when they're sleeping. It's self-reflection Felix doesn't engage in very often and certainly hasn't about anything pertaining to his death. He attributes his desire to be touching Locus solely to the years he's spent wanting him and it's legitimate enough that he never questions it.
But it does help to have Locus there, and despite Felix's uneasy trepidation that there are going to be more tortuously awful dreams waiting for him, he closes his eyes and relaxes. And in the morning, when he hasn't be plagued by nightmares, some more in-tune part of his mind is going to think the dog tags had something to do with it and then come to the erroneous conclusion that they're some kind talisman. Instead of realizing the more glaringly obvious explanation: the events of Chorus notwithstanding, Locus does care about him and some of his irrational fears are unfounded. ]
Mmm. [ It's a quiet noncommittal sound, Felix's fingers creeping across the top of Locus' chest before coming to rest above his heart. He can feel it, the steady beat of it, and that's nice. Reassuring. ] Just be alive in the morning.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Memory comes rushing back. Gunshot wound. Stitches. Stubborn idiot who refuses to take medication to help himself.
Cursing, Felix hovers awkwardly at Locus' side, unable to properly see what's going on or actually do anything for the pain. Did the stitches tear? Is Locus bleeding everywhere? Locus is cursing, indicative of the level of pain he's in and restless, helpless frustration wells up inside of Felix, impossible to ignore. ]
Shit. [ He gets off the bed, jostling Leon in the process, and moves around to the other side, snatching up both the glass of water and the painkillers. One of his shins gets banged in the process, but Felix ignores it and even more carefully climbs back into the bed. ] Stop being a stubborn asshole and take the pills.
[ Argumentative as the words might be, Felix's tone is soft, concerned and failing to hide it. ]
I can—I set a flashlight over here before we went to sleep. Is it bleeding again? Maybe I should check it.
no subject
Maybe he should take those pills.
So, he takes them and the water from Felix, wordlessly accepting it and swallowing them down. This feels weak. Since when can't he just grit through and bear the pain? The packet and water are discarded on the other nightstand as Locus rearranges himself on the bed again. ]
It's not bleeding.
[ He almost says it's fine, but it's not that fine and knowing Felix it will start an argument. He's really not interested in that.
As a means to move on, he reaches for Felix's arm to tug him close. It will be better to get comfortable and... maybe not resume exactly as they were, but something. ]
Come on. We need to keep warm.
no subject
That he takes the pills is both a balm for Felix's nerves and telling of how much pain he must be in. It's a shame the son of a bitch who shot him is dead, if only because Felix really wants to kill him again. Slower this time. So it hurts more.
Visions of further retribution dissipate as Locus tugs his arm. Snapping back to the moment, Felix complies with it, shifting closer until he's pressed against Locus' side. He drags the covers up as high as they'll go and twists sideways, curling the length of his body into his side so that he's sharing as much of his body heat as he can without aggravating the wound. ]
Do you need anything else?
no subject
When Felix begins to arrange himself next to him, Locus, too, arranges himself so he's comfortable. One arm is stretched out beneath the pillows to facilitate the idea of no space between them. It's just logic, really! No space means no cold air. His other hand seeks a place that won't aggravate his side and he winds up curling his fingers slightly around Felix's upperarm. By and large Locus isn't a caretaker or comfort-giver—mostly because it feels far too awkward—but he maintains the connection to provide some sort of grounding for Felix. For all he knows it might not help, all things considered. But, perhaps it will.
He feels Leon make himself comfortable on his other side, along the line of his leg. Locus just sighs. ]
No. [ a beat; his thumb twitches once before he rubs it over Felix's skin a few times. ] Do you?
no subject
But it does help to have Locus there, and despite Felix's uneasy trepidation that there are going to be more tortuously awful dreams waiting for him, he closes his eyes and relaxes. And in the morning, when he hasn't be plagued by nightmares, some more in-tune part of his mind is going to think the dog tags had something to do with it and then come to the erroneous conclusion that they're some kind talisman. Instead of realizing the more glaringly obvious explanation: the events of Chorus notwithstanding, Locus does care about him and some of his irrational fears are unfounded. ]
Mmm. [ It's a quiet noncommittal sound, Felix's fingers creeping across the top of Locus' chest before coming to rest above his heart. He can feel it, the steady beat of it, and that's nice. Reassuring. ] Just be alive in the morning.