215. h/c meme

[hardforrichgirl]

Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort
is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional
distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The
injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the
characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject.
- Others respond.
- Roll 1-10 at RNG

Comments

Arthur || Inception

[littlspecificty]

[eversohandsome]

It's not like Arthur to just not show up without a little bit of warning, these days. It's a place that neither of them have really labelled, and Bob's completely alright with that. As long as they're both having a good time he's happy

[littlspecificty]

Arthur blamed himself for getting caught off guard; even between jobs he should know better

[eversohandsome]

Bob doesn't recognise any of the men standing around Arthur, and the fact they're not English, or from the east, is the first alarm bell that is set off in his head. Usually all the shit that happens around this part of town has some connection here or there.

But these men? They sound American. He gets himself into position, a good enough view to make a mental inventory of weapons they've got, and what the safest way to get Arthur out is.

They're not exactly armed to the teeth, and Bob's seen more gear on a group of rowdy 13-year olds. He's not a bad shot, too many years now carrying a weapon he's not supposed to. And this one he knows very well.

He barely hesitates the second Arthur's having a coughing fit, pops a bullet into each knee of the man standing over him, then the shoulders of the man with the tell-tale bulge inside his jacket pocket. And the third man he doesn't do anything to but train the gun on him, finally emerging from the shadows and making it clear he'll shoot if he has to.

"Untie him."

[littlspecificty]

Both men shot cry out and curse, the one above Arthur glaring up at Bob and his hand back on Arthur's neck, making it hard for him to breathe.

The third man is still aiming at Bob, a slight tremor going through him, "No."

Arthur doesn't move on the floor, keeping his eyes, vision blurring in and out before his eyes, on the ceiling above him.

The one above Arthur orders the other one to shoot "the bastard already".

[eversohandsome]

"Fucking pricks," Bob mutters and decides this time there is no other outcome. He either needs to take care of these men or they'll take care of Arthur.

The three shots he fires betray his experience with the weapon. The next three his experience with the criminal underworld. One in the head and then one in the throat, just to be sure. Everybody knows that.

The gun is placed down at Arthur's side as Bob kneels down, shoves the body of the dead man he's just killed from over him and sets about using his fingers to untie the man he's come here for.

"It's okay. It's alright. I've got you."

[littlspecificty]

Arthur closes his eyes at the man above him getting killed if only because he doesn't what his blood spraying into his eyes. Otherwise, seeing men getting killed wasn't anything new to Arthur.

He continues to remain still even as he hears Bob's voice and feels him untying his restraints. He opens his eyes, dark pupils sliding over to spot the other man but he remains silent.

[eversohandsome]

Gun forgotten for now on the ground, Bob finally manages to get Arthur free, palms resting lightly on his shoulders as he tries to catch his gaze.

"Am I going to make it worse if I help you up now?"

[littlspecificty]

His gives a very painful crack as he gives a simple answer of "no". He needs the help because if he could do it himself, he would have already.

[eversohandsome]

"Come on, then," Bob murmurs and carefully takes Arthur into his arms, supporting and taking weight where he can to get the other man upright again.

[littlspecificty]

When Arthur finally gets to his feet, grunts and wheezes not really working in his favor, he's clinging to Bob while trying to steady unsteady legs.

His voice sounds wet and garbled, "I'm sorry I missed our time."

[eversohandsome]

"Don't worry. You can give me an IOU," Bob promises and smiles, offering every inch of his body and strength over to the other man. He's already pressed the still warm gun into the back of the waistband of his trousers, and getting Arthur out and to the car should be simple enough.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

[littlspecificty]

He ends up leaning against Bob more than he wants to but he can't really help it. Just like his bloody face is pressing into the other's clothed shoulder, "I don't know."

It's the only answer he can give as his vision is going in and out more rapidly and he is finding it harder to keep his eyes open. There's a possibility he might have a concussion.

[eversohandsome]

Bob thinks he knows Arthur well enough by now to know that indecision is a clear sign there's something wrong. Nodding that he's made a decision for them, he carefully helps Arthur out to the car, carefully sliding him into the backseat and lying him down.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur tries to hang on as long as he can to try and make it easier for Bob to get him to the car, bare feet scrapping against the ground as his feet start to drag and he's leaning more and more against Bob.

When he's finally laid out in the backseat, he lets out a small, whimper-like sound, not really able to help it. he's actually experienced worse than this but when it feels like his head is going to crush itself from the inside (or throb until it rolls off of his shoulders), he can't really ignore that.

(So, unfortunately for him, he will have to deal with Bob seeing him this weak.)

[eversohandsome]

"'s alright, mate. You'll be alright," Bob mumbles and it's not really clear who his words are really for; Arthur or himself. He's careful to make sure Arthur is secure in the back, limbs all inside the car, before he shuts the door and slips into the driver's seat. They're going to hospital now whether Arthur likes it or not.