Oversized (Brendan/Emmett, PG-13)
For xandutch: Brendan/Emmett, Spoon
Emmett marched straight into the examination room, not even bothering to give the nurses' station as much as a passing glance. Freya had told him on the phone exactly where he had to go if he wanted his "slightly worse for wear boyfriend" - her words, not his - home instead of having him spend the night at the hospital. He just wondered when this had become normal: this, being called away from his studies to fetch Brendan when he was too banged up to drive on his own, or to stay by his side and hold his hand through the latest drug-induced sleep. Today it was the former rather than the latter, thankfully, and Emmett was more than a little pissed at Brendan for stumbling from one mess into the next. He got that chasing terrorists was a dangerous job, but Freya didn't get hurt half as often, so obviously Brendan was doing something wrong. It was getting old very fast, too.
Emmett's irritation evaporated into concern as soon as he entered the room and got a good look at Brendan. The other man was sitting on an examination table, shoulders sagged into a tired hunch as he held out his right arm for the nurse to wrap. The lower end of a nasty gash from biceps to mid-forearm was standing out stark against his pale skin, but that appeared almost harmless in comparison. Brendan's suit was rumpled and dirty where it wasn't outright torn, a massive bruise colouring the entire right half of his face and seemingly continuing from his collarbone down over his chest. His right eye was swollen shut, his lower lip swollen to nearly twice its normal size and flushing with a sick purple. He looked disgruntled, outright pitiful, and Emmett's heart thumped painfully in his chest as he swallowed.
"What happened?" he wanted to know. When Brendan shrank in even further on himself, Emmett looked at Freya, who was watching the nurse wrap Brendan's arm from her place close to the door, scowling with her arms crossed over her chest.
"A spoon fell on top of me," Brendan's muffled voice told him, and Emmett couldn't have heard that right. He turned to Freya for clarification, to find that her expression had somewhat lightened and the corners of her mouth were twitching.
"A spoon fell on top of him," she confirmed, still watching the nurse. "To be fair, it was at least twenty feet long and held by a giant plastic bunny, but there you go."
Emmett stared at her, then at Brendan, who blinked pitifully back through his one good eye. "I can't help but notice that for an agency that's supposed to be focussing on encryption methods, your job is positively bizarre."
"Emmett, your pet is a sixty-foot-long snake called Betty. You're not allowed to call anything bizarre," Freya told him cheerfully and gave him a pat on the shoulder before she bounced toward the door. "Get well soon!" she called to Brendan, and then was gone, and Emmett was alone with the nurse and his lover.
"A spoon, really?" He couldn't get his head around it. What kind of outlandish situation led to someone being hit by a twenty-foot-long spoon?
"I don't want to talk about it." That was Brendan being mulish, which probably caused in equal parts by pain and embarrassment. Emmett shook his head and grinned slightly, hopping up on the bed despite the nurse's dark look and bumping Brendan's shoulder with his own.
"So tell me, does the bunny look worse than you?"
"Shut up, Emmett," Brendan slurred.
"No, really: did you shoot it? Is there a giant perforated bunny holding up the traffic on Main Street?"
"Shut up, Emmett." But Brendan was trying his best to suppress a grin - and failing - and even the nurse was smiling, so Emmett allowed himself to relax and kept verbally poking his lover, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
This was normal, too, and he wouldn't change it for anything, even if he could do without the surges of adrenaline Brendan's stunts caused in him. But he loved that afterwards, he'd get to take Brendan home and kiss every bruise on his body and make them better, even if Brendan was too macho to admit it.
That would never get old.
Emmett marched straight into the examination room, not even bothering to give the nurses' station as much as a passing glance. Freya had told him on the phone exactly where he had to go if he wanted his "slightly worse for wear boyfriend" - her words, not his - home instead of having him spend the night at the hospital. He just wondered when this had become normal: this, being called away from his studies to fetch Brendan when he was too banged up to drive on his own, or to stay by his side and hold his hand through the latest drug-induced sleep. Today it was the former rather than the latter, thankfully, and Emmett was more than a little pissed at Brendan for stumbling from one mess into the next. He got that chasing terrorists was a dangerous job, but Freya didn't get hurt half as often, so obviously Brendan was doing something wrong. It was getting old very fast, too.
Emmett's irritation evaporated into concern as soon as he entered the room and got a good look at Brendan. The other man was sitting on an examination table, shoulders sagged into a tired hunch as he held out his right arm for the nurse to wrap. The lower end of a nasty gash from biceps to mid-forearm was standing out stark against his pale skin, but that appeared almost harmless in comparison. Brendan's suit was rumpled and dirty where it wasn't outright torn, a massive bruise colouring the entire right half of his face and seemingly continuing from his collarbone down over his chest. His right eye was swollen shut, his lower lip swollen to nearly twice its normal size and flushing with a sick purple. He looked disgruntled, outright pitiful, and Emmett's heart thumped painfully in his chest as he swallowed.
"What happened?" he wanted to know. When Brendan shrank in even further on himself, Emmett looked at Freya, who was watching the nurse wrap Brendan's arm from her place close to the door, scowling with her arms crossed over her chest.
"A spoon fell on top of me," Brendan's muffled voice told him, and Emmett couldn't have heard that right. He turned to Freya for clarification, to find that her expression had somewhat lightened and the corners of her mouth were twitching.
"A spoon fell on top of him," she confirmed, still watching the nurse. "To be fair, it was at least twenty feet long and held by a giant plastic bunny, but there you go."
Emmett stared at her, then at Brendan, who blinked pitifully back through his one good eye. "I can't help but notice that for an agency that's supposed to be focussing on encryption methods, your job is positively bizarre."
"Emmett, your pet is a sixty-foot-long snake called Betty. You're not allowed to call anything bizarre," Freya told him cheerfully and gave him a pat on the shoulder before she bounced toward the door. "Get well soon!" she called to Brendan, and then was gone, and Emmett was alone with the nurse and his lover.
"A spoon, really?" He couldn't get his head around it. What kind of outlandish situation led to someone being hit by a twenty-foot-long spoon?
"I don't want to talk about it." That was Brendan being mulish, which probably caused in equal parts by pain and embarrassment. Emmett shook his head and grinned slightly, hopping up on the bed despite the nurse's dark look and bumping Brendan's shoulder with his own.
"So tell me, does the bunny look worse than you?"
"Shut up, Emmett," Brendan slurred.
"No, really: did you shoot it? Is there a giant perforated bunny holding up the traffic on Main Street?"
"Shut up, Emmett." But Brendan was trying his best to suppress a grin - and failing - and even the nurse was smiling, so Emmett allowed himself to relax and kept verbally poking his lover, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
This was normal, too, and he wouldn't change it for anything, even if he could do without the surges of adrenaline Brendan's stunts caused in him. But he loved that afterwards, he'd get to take Brendan home and kiss every bruise on his body and make them better, even if Brendan was too macho to admit it.
That would never get old.