In Which Brotherly Concern Leads To Late Night Conversation
The floorboard about a foot in front of the door creaks like hell, but Kevin knows better, steps over it, past the muddy shoes at the door, peering into Frankie and Nick's bed by the fire, turning to see if he can just slip into his own--
"You know, one of these times when you take a half night off work, you could, I don't know, take some time off? Rest?"
"What are you doing up--Joe, you're supposed to go on rounds in three hours. And how did you know I took off early?"
Joe shrugs from his perch, cross-legged on the table, "Brendon."
Kevin's ready to brush that idea off with a disgruntled muttered comment about big fat mouths, but Joe continues, "And I had to make sure you didn't come home all banged up and then fall asleep without letting me have a look. Gerard says sleeping on an injury without having it set or treated first can do more harm than good," Joe parrots, sounding at once mildly concerned and absurdly proud of himself.
Kevin sighs and says, "Just a sprain, I think," holding up his wrist.
Joe grins and says, "Get the hell over here, oh protector of the downtrodden." as Joe inspects the wrist and starts wrapping it in a clean bandage he'd had next to him on the table the whole time (and when did Kevin's little brother get so much forethought?), he asks, casually, "So, you kill anyone tonight?"