Fic: Exit Wounds
May. 19th, 2008 05:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
csi_sanders1129Title: Exit Wounds
Chapters: 1/1
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
csi_sanders1129
Genre: Hurt/Comfort. Romance. Drama.
Ratings: T
Word Count: ~2900
Pairings/Characters: Tommy/Merton
Synopsis: They learned, early on, that hospitals asked far too many questions to explain away all of the injuries they sustained while protecting the ignorant townsfolk.
Comments: This ones been in progress for a while now. ot bored and started surfing wikipedia for info - and stayed up all night typing. Thus begins the summer all-nighters. Umm... some infor snagged from Supernatural, just monsters and a bit of folklore and stuff. Not mine. Enjoy!
They learned, early on, that hospitals asked far too many questions to explain away all of the injuries they sustained while protecting the ignorant townsfolk. Sooner or later, questions about abuse and self-harm would have come up. So they stopped going and bought an extensive first aid kit - which they had to restock on a terribly regular basis.
***
Once, after a close encounter with a group of harpies, subsequent to their investigation of a rash of reports of people, animals, and objects going missing, their routine began.
As it turned out, harpies, while wicked and cunning, also had razor sharp claws.
After the creatures were dealt with, Merton drove them back to the house they now shared in Pleasantville, having graduated college the previous year, Merton an English major with a specialty in the occult, Tommy in sports medicine. “Is it still bleeding?” Merton asked, casting a quick glance at the deep gash on Tommy’s bicep.
Tommy didn’t remove the towel from the wound, instead, he just nodded. “Yeah, not as bad, though.”
“Go sit in the bathroom. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
He trudged upstairs, sitting on the edge of the bathtub in his room. “Hurts like hell.” He mumbled, as he heard Merton rummage around in the hall closet.
He set the kit down on the sink, pulling out the tools he’d need after washing his own hands. Saline solution, peroxide, antibiotic ointment, a stitching kit, gauze bandages, tape, and - a trick they’d learned from some other hunters - holy water. “You need help with the shirt?”
“Yeah, might be better off just cutting it.” Tommy decided, resigning himself to the loss of the John Elway jersey.
Merton nodded, grabbing the scissors out of the kit to cut away the bloodied material. He tossed it, as well as the towel, into the trashcan, reaching for the saline solution to rinse the wound. “You feeling okay?”
Tommy closed his eyes when Merton poured Peroxide over the wound next. “I’m fine. You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Nope, I’m strangely unscathed.” Merton dabbed the wound with a clean towel to dry the area before examining it to determine if it needed stitches. “I think butterfly bandages will do just fine.” He declared, returning the stitching kit to the kit and grabbing the box of strips.
He only needed five of the butterflies to close the wound, which he then applied anti-biotic ointment to before he covered it with gauze.
“You’re done.” Merton informed him.
“Great.” He pulled his comrade into a hug, always grateful when they both made it out of a fight sill breathing.
***
The next time, it’s Merton who was hurt.
They’d initially thought it was simply a rogue vampire but it turned out to be nearly an entire clan, things had not gone well.
Tommy had had to carry his injured and unconscious friend back to their home that night. The threat was gone but he still couldn’t unwolf. He was certain it had more to do with Merton’s current state and less to do with his own wounds.
They both knew by now that the evils they hunted always came with a risk of injury, after these years together, how could they not? But it never got easier seeing the other hurt. Especially where the wolf was concerned.
“Hey, hey. Merton, you gotta stay awake for a bit, okay?” Tommy prodded, peeling off the bloodstained shirt and examining the pale skin it hid for any traces of vampire fang marks.
Merton was groggy and rather out of it after the long day, but he stayed awake, one hand clinging to Tommy while he went about cleaning each of the wounds he’d been dealt by poison tipped claws. This was a common injury with the vampires; it wouldn’t turn you, but they were hard to treat. His practiced hands moved over each laceration with a kind of gentle firmness that kept the other from wincing too much.
Saline solution. Peroxide. Holy water. Stitching if necessary. Antibiotics. Bandage. Repeat.
All in all, a grand total of eleven slash marks - it was a wonder the boy hadn’t bled to death.
Only when the wounds were all dressed did he allow the boy to sleep. Then he quickly went about treating his own injuries - which healed much faster and required much less work when he was still wolfed out.
Then he climbed into bed with Merton. In times like this, they often shared a bed, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. It was times like that that Tommy sometimes regretted dragging Merton into this mess.
Merton always seemed to read his mind, though, because he would huddle closer and whisper something reassuring before he fell asleep. Tommy would just watch him, running a hand through his hair.
***
It was Merton again, the next time, just a few weeks after the vampire incident. A much less dramatic experience this time, however.
They were on the way home from a swiftly dealt with Weeping Woman at a lake just west of Pleasantville, but Merton insisted he also had a lead on a Black Dog in the area as well. They went to check it out, only to discover it was a false alarm. It turned out to be two black German shepherd dogs whose owners had died.
Only after they stepped foot on the property did they discover that there were also puppies - and the mother dog proceeded to possessively guard her family. She took a bite out of Merton’s ankle.
“I’d ask if we could take them home with us, but I’m sensing you’d say no.” Tommy teased, as he helped Merton back to the car. He pulled his over-shirt over his head for Merton to press against the wound.
Merton rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “Actually, if you can get them in the car, I’m okay with that. I know you miss Sparky.”
Tommy’s face nearly split with his grin.
“That’s if you can get them in the car.”
He should have known better, really. Tommy approached the dogs, flashed his eyes yellow, and let out a growl and the adult dogs whimpered and submitted. The three puppies just bounced around happily, blissfully oblivious.
“Looks like there’s a trip to Petco in our future.” Tommy grinned, lifting the small puppies into the back of the hearse, while the big dogs hopped in themselves.
The drive back home was surprisingly quiet. It started out loud, but Tommy growled once and the canine’s decided it wasn’t worth barking anymore.
But, they still had Merton’s leg to deal with.
Once all dogs were inside - confined to the laundry room for the time being, Tommy directed Merton into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit on his way.
“Pants off.” He demanded, digging through the kit in search of the needed supplies.
“You could buy me dinner first.” Merton joked, but peeled his black jeans off anyway.
The peroxide stung when applied, but the pain was often lessened when it was Tommy doing this for him. “You should be a doctor, you know.”
Tommy snorted. “I’m only this good with you because the wolf freaks out when your blood is involved.”
Merton looked puzzled. “What? The wolf wants to, what? Eat me?”
“No, it makes me all protective of you.” He said, applying the antibiotic medicine and covering it with gauze. “Hope the dogs are clear for rabies.”
“We’re going to the vet now.” Merton glared.
***
Tommy came home one night, after having it out with the ghost of a serial killer. The man had killed at least twelve people while he was alive, and was one away from matching his total in death.
Apparently, ghosts can still wield knives.
Tommy showed up after midnight, sending the dogs into an uproar. “Hey, Merton, need the first aid kit.” He called into the house, spotting Merton waiting up for him on the couch.
“Oh, God. What happened?” He demanded, shooting into action.
“Ghost is gone. The dagger wasn’t as easy to dodge as he was.” Tommy answered, hand clutching his chest.
Merton scurried about, forgoing the bathroom this time in favor of the kitchen. “Can’t you wolf out?”
Tommy shook his head. “Tried, I think the wolf helped as much as it could. I turned back on the way home.” He grimaced when Merton started to cut away the material of yet another of his favorite shirts, which he was going to have to stop wearing to these fights, this one a 1985 Eagles shirt.
“This is deep.” Merton observed, concern clearly evident on his face. He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and disinfecting the wound before he began his stitching.
Tommy held perfectly still for the whole procedure, eased by the feel of Merton’s other hand settled on his chest. His head felt heavy and he was slightly dizzy, and he should probably eat something soon, he thought.
Merton tied off the last stitch, looking up to see Tommy fixated on him. “You holding up okay?” He asked, still worried. He raised a hand to Tommy’s forehead. “Oh, you’re a little warm. I’ll get you some juice and food. And you should lie down on the couch.”
“Not bed?” Tommy wondered, as Merton dressed the wound and helped him toward the sofa. One of the puppies - now nearly three months old - curled up by Tommy’s feet. It was Merton’s favorite, named Gizmo for its Gremlin like coloring, so he let it slide.
“I want to be able to keep an eye on you for a while.”
So, thirty-one stitches across Tommy’s left pectoral and it was done.
***
Then Merton got hurt again. That one was bad.
They’d gone camping in the woods, not far from where Tommy had been bitten by Mr. Dunleavy. If only they’d encountered werewolves.
No, this was a Wendigo. Deadly fast during the day and even better at night. A perfect hunter.
It grabbed Merton.
The wolf erupted. Tommy was racing through the woods in record time, following the dreaded scent of Merton’s blood. It led him to a cave deep in the woods; all kinds of scents were there, none of them good. Except Merton’s. His Merton was still alive.
“I’m coming to get you, buddy,” He promised, sneaking through the entranceway through tunnel after tunnel, following his nose.
Eventually, he found himself in a large hollowed out room. Several cocoon like objects were around them, none of their contents still bleeding. Then he saw Merton hanging from the ceiling in a corner of the room.
“Merton…” He called, approaching. He seemed to be unconscious, though. With one swift slice, he cut through the material that was holding him up, catching him with ease. “Hey, come on, wake up.”
“Mmmm…” Merton groaned, and then his eyes shot open. “I… what happened?”
“Shh… you’re okay now. Just stay quiet.” Tommy prodded, testing to see if Merton was okay to stand. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
Merton nodded, clinging to Tommy’s arm as he led the way back through the maze of tunnels.
“Any idea what that thing was?” He asked, as they made one of the last turns toward the entrance.
“Dunno. Wendigo, maybe.” he answered.
Tommy stopped. “Get against the wall and don’t move.” He demanded. “It’s around the corner.”
Merton swallowed and did as told. “Fire can kill it.”
“You have the camp lighter?” Tommy asked, relieved when Merton handed him the object. “Be ready to jump on my back.”
“Okay.” He nodded.
Merton pulled off his sweater, rounding the corner quickly. He lit the cloth and hurled it at the beast, watching as it whined and crowed in pain when it caught fire as well.
“Come on.” Tommy hissed, locking his hands around Merton’s knees and taking off towards the parking lot a good several miles away.
By the time he got Merton home, it was past dark, and the blood on Merton’s clothes had spread.
They went through their usual routine, setting up in the bathroom. Merton stripped off his sweatshirt, over shirt and t-shirt - all of which had to be trashed, and Tommy helped him with his shoes, socks, and jeans.
“I see a cut on your forehead, one on your shoulder, and your knees. You’ve got a ton of bruises. Your wrist looks a little swollen, too.” Tommy said, observing the damage. “Don’t think you need stitches, though.”
“Can I take a shower first? I feel gross, and I can clean out the cuts that way.” Merton protested.
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, but make it quick, I want to get that stuff bandaged as soon as possible.”
“Alright.” Once Tommy left the room, he stripped off his boxers and clambered into the shower. He washed quickly, but didn’t skimp with the wounds, making sure to clean them well despite the sting. He grabbed a pair of boxers out of his dresser and then called Tommy back into his room. “Ready.”
“I found this for your wrist.” Tommy declared, producing a wrist split from one of his old sports injuries. “The kits in the kitchen.”
Merton followed him downstairs, seeing everything set up on the table already. “Wolf’s in protect-Merton mode, I take it?”
Tommy nudged him into the chair. “Oh, I’ve been in protect-Merton mode since you disappeared.”
“That was… like 15 hours ago.” Merton noted, glancing at the clock for the first time since they’d arrived home. Five in the morning.
The peroxide stung as much as the water in the shower had, but that was the only pain he felt. The wounds on his knees were fine, just scrapes, but Tommy disinfected them all the same. The one on his shoulder was a bit deeper, requiring three butterflies to close, topped off with a gauze pad. The one on his forehead only needed two and Tommy left that one open.
“Now, I want you to eat something, and then you’re coming to bed with me.”
“Will that help the wolf?”
Tommy nodded. “Always does.”
Merton accepted the toast and orange juice Tommy offered him and ten minutes later, they were curled up in Tommy’s bed.
***
The times when it’s Tommy who’s down for the count, those are the times that Merton nearly loses it. They’d spent weeks tracking the reports of faeries that were rumored to be hibernating around a lake north of Muhlenberg, and they’d gone and underestimated the little devils. By the time they’d realized there was no point in fighting, that this was one thing they had no power over, Tommy had been laced with silver nitrate poison - which as it turned out, coated the flying imps.
“Hold on, Tommy. I’ll get you home.” He said, practically carrying the werewolf’s whole weight as he moved in the general direction of the hearse. It was slow going, but he’d get there.
Instead of home, he stopped them at a hotel, though. There was no treatment for the silver in Tommy’s system; it was all a waiting game. There was nothing Merton could do to help except stay and keep him company when the agony set in.
“Where are we?” Tommy mumbled incoherently some time later, in the midst of a high fever, a few hallucinations, and other symptoms.
“At a hotel. You were so bad in the car I figured we were better off stopping.” Merton explained, pressing a cool rag to Tommy’s head. “There are some gashes on your side; I need you to roll over.”
The younger groaned, but complied, rolling over to reveal the blood soaked towel Merton had laid down before he’d settled Tommy in. Luckily, it hadn’t gone through to the blankets. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” He promised, the supplies from their portable first aid kit already laid out and ready.
He cleaned the wounds thoroughly, trying to get any traces of the poison he could out. There were four in total, and 44 stitches later, they were all closed, several gauze pads covering the disinfected area.
“It hurts so much, Merton.” Tommy practically whimpered, clutching various body parts as the poison worked through his system. “Make it stop.”
Merton crawled onto the bed beside him, running his fingers through Tommy‘s hair. “This is the best I can do. I don’t know if it’s helping you at all, but I don’t know what to do about it…”
Tommy, still lying on his good side, tugged on Merton’s shirt. “Lay down. Like we do when you get hurt and the wolf is possessive.”
Merton complied, lying face to face with the werewolf. It wasn’t how they normally laid, but he wanted to keep an eye on him. “Anything else?”
“No.” Tommy sighed. “It’s better already.”
An idea coming to mind, Merton leaned in closer, pressing his lips against Tommy’s for a brief moment. “That help at all?”
“Yes.” Tommy actually grinned at that, having long awaited that action, though it could have occurred under better circumstances.
“So if I do that again, you think it’ll help?” Merton asked, smiling as well. “In my not so professional, slightly biased, medical opinion, I think you could do with a few more kisses.”
“I, and my protect-Merton senses, think that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
And twenty-seven kisses later, the silver nitrate poisoning was virtually non-existent.
Chapters: 1/1
Author:
csi_sanders1129 Genre: Hurt/Comfort. Romance. Drama.
Ratings: T
Word Count: ~2900
Pairings/Characters: Tommy/Merton
Synopsis: They learned, early on, that hospitals asked far too many questions to explain away all of the injuries they sustained while protecting the ignorant townsfolk.
Comments: This ones been in progress for a while now. ot bored and started surfing wikipedia for info - and stayed up all night typing. Thus begins the summer all-nighters. Umm... some infor snagged from Supernatural, just monsters and a bit of folklore and stuff. Not mine. Enjoy!
They learned, early on, that hospitals asked far too many questions to explain away all of the injuries they sustained while protecting the ignorant townsfolk. Sooner or later, questions about abuse and self-harm would have come up. So they stopped going and bought an extensive first aid kit - which they had to restock on a terribly regular basis.
***
Once, after a close encounter with a group of harpies, subsequent to their investigation of a rash of reports of people, animals, and objects going missing, their routine began.
As it turned out, harpies, while wicked and cunning, also had razor sharp claws.
After the creatures were dealt with, Merton drove them back to the house they now shared in Pleasantville, having graduated college the previous year, Merton an English major with a specialty in the occult, Tommy in sports medicine. “Is it still bleeding?” Merton asked, casting a quick glance at the deep gash on Tommy’s bicep.
Tommy didn’t remove the towel from the wound, instead, he just nodded. “Yeah, not as bad, though.”
“Go sit in the bathroom. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
He trudged upstairs, sitting on the edge of the bathtub in his room. “Hurts like hell.” He mumbled, as he heard Merton rummage around in the hall closet.
He set the kit down on the sink, pulling out the tools he’d need after washing his own hands. Saline solution, peroxide, antibiotic ointment, a stitching kit, gauze bandages, tape, and - a trick they’d learned from some other hunters - holy water. “You need help with the shirt?”
“Yeah, might be better off just cutting it.” Tommy decided, resigning himself to the loss of the John Elway jersey.
Merton nodded, grabbing the scissors out of the kit to cut away the bloodied material. He tossed it, as well as the towel, into the trashcan, reaching for the saline solution to rinse the wound. “You feeling okay?”
Tommy closed his eyes when Merton poured Peroxide over the wound next. “I’m fine. You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Nope, I’m strangely unscathed.” Merton dabbed the wound with a clean towel to dry the area before examining it to determine if it needed stitches. “I think butterfly bandages will do just fine.” He declared, returning the stitching kit to the kit and grabbing the box of strips.
He only needed five of the butterflies to close the wound, which he then applied anti-biotic ointment to before he covered it with gauze.
“You’re done.” Merton informed him.
“Great.” He pulled his comrade into a hug, always grateful when they both made it out of a fight sill breathing.
***
The next time, it’s Merton who was hurt.
They’d initially thought it was simply a rogue vampire but it turned out to be nearly an entire clan, things had not gone well.
Tommy had had to carry his injured and unconscious friend back to their home that night. The threat was gone but he still couldn’t unwolf. He was certain it had more to do with Merton’s current state and less to do with his own wounds.
They both knew by now that the evils they hunted always came with a risk of injury, after these years together, how could they not? But it never got easier seeing the other hurt. Especially where the wolf was concerned.
“Hey, hey. Merton, you gotta stay awake for a bit, okay?” Tommy prodded, peeling off the bloodstained shirt and examining the pale skin it hid for any traces of vampire fang marks.
Merton was groggy and rather out of it after the long day, but he stayed awake, one hand clinging to Tommy while he went about cleaning each of the wounds he’d been dealt by poison tipped claws. This was a common injury with the vampires; it wouldn’t turn you, but they were hard to treat. His practiced hands moved over each laceration with a kind of gentle firmness that kept the other from wincing too much.
Saline solution. Peroxide. Holy water. Stitching if necessary. Antibiotics. Bandage. Repeat.
All in all, a grand total of eleven slash marks - it was a wonder the boy hadn’t bled to death.
Only when the wounds were all dressed did he allow the boy to sleep. Then he quickly went about treating his own injuries - which healed much faster and required much less work when he was still wolfed out.
Then he climbed into bed with Merton. In times like this, they often shared a bed, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. It was times like that that Tommy sometimes regretted dragging Merton into this mess.
Merton always seemed to read his mind, though, because he would huddle closer and whisper something reassuring before he fell asleep. Tommy would just watch him, running a hand through his hair.
***
It was Merton again, the next time, just a few weeks after the vampire incident. A much less dramatic experience this time, however.
They were on the way home from a swiftly dealt with Weeping Woman at a lake just west of Pleasantville, but Merton insisted he also had a lead on a Black Dog in the area as well. They went to check it out, only to discover it was a false alarm. It turned out to be two black German shepherd dogs whose owners had died.
Only after they stepped foot on the property did they discover that there were also puppies - and the mother dog proceeded to possessively guard her family. She took a bite out of Merton’s ankle.
“I’d ask if we could take them home with us, but I’m sensing you’d say no.” Tommy teased, as he helped Merton back to the car. He pulled his over-shirt over his head for Merton to press against the wound.
Merton rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “Actually, if you can get them in the car, I’m okay with that. I know you miss Sparky.”
Tommy’s face nearly split with his grin.
“That’s if you can get them in the car.”
He should have known better, really. Tommy approached the dogs, flashed his eyes yellow, and let out a growl and the adult dogs whimpered and submitted. The three puppies just bounced around happily, blissfully oblivious.
“Looks like there’s a trip to Petco in our future.” Tommy grinned, lifting the small puppies into the back of the hearse, while the big dogs hopped in themselves.
The drive back home was surprisingly quiet. It started out loud, but Tommy growled once and the canine’s decided it wasn’t worth barking anymore.
But, they still had Merton’s leg to deal with.
Once all dogs were inside - confined to the laundry room for the time being, Tommy directed Merton into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit on his way.
“Pants off.” He demanded, digging through the kit in search of the needed supplies.
“You could buy me dinner first.” Merton joked, but peeled his black jeans off anyway.
The peroxide stung when applied, but the pain was often lessened when it was Tommy doing this for him. “You should be a doctor, you know.”
Tommy snorted. “I’m only this good with you because the wolf freaks out when your blood is involved.”
Merton looked puzzled. “What? The wolf wants to, what? Eat me?”
“No, it makes me all protective of you.” He said, applying the antibiotic medicine and covering it with gauze. “Hope the dogs are clear for rabies.”
“We’re going to the vet now.” Merton glared.
***
Tommy came home one night, after having it out with the ghost of a serial killer. The man had killed at least twelve people while he was alive, and was one away from matching his total in death.
Apparently, ghosts can still wield knives.
Tommy showed up after midnight, sending the dogs into an uproar. “Hey, Merton, need the first aid kit.” He called into the house, spotting Merton waiting up for him on the couch.
“Oh, God. What happened?” He demanded, shooting into action.
“Ghost is gone. The dagger wasn’t as easy to dodge as he was.” Tommy answered, hand clutching his chest.
Merton scurried about, forgoing the bathroom this time in favor of the kitchen. “Can’t you wolf out?”
Tommy shook his head. “Tried, I think the wolf helped as much as it could. I turned back on the way home.” He grimaced when Merton started to cut away the material of yet another of his favorite shirts, which he was going to have to stop wearing to these fights, this one a 1985 Eagles shirt.
“This is deep.” Merton observed, concern clearly evident on his face. He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and disinfecting the wound before he began his stitching.
Tommy held perfectly still for the whole procedure, eased by the feel of Merton’s other hand settled on his chest. His head felt heavy and he was slightly dizzy, and he should probably eat something soon, he thought.
Merton tied off the last stitch, looking up to see Tommy fixated on him. “You holding up okay?” He asked, still worried. He raised a hand to Tommy’s forehead. “Oh, you’re a little warm. I’ll get you some juice and food. And you should lie down on the couch.”
“Not bed?” Tommy wondered, as Merton dressed the wound and helped him toward the sofa. One of the puppies - now nearly three months old - curled up by Tommy’s feet. It was Merton’s favorite, named Gizmo for its Gremlin like coloring, so he let it slide.
“I want to be able to keep an eye on you for a while.”
So, thirty-one stitches across Tommy’s left pectoral and it was done.
***
Then Merton got hurt again. That one was bad.
They’d gone camping in the woods, not far from where Tommy had been bitten by Mr. Dunleavy. If only they’d encountered werewolves.
No, this was a Wendigo. Deadly fast during the day and even better at night. A perfect hunter.
It grabbed Merton.
The wolf erupted. Tommy was racing through the woods in record time, following the dreaded scent of Merton’s blood. It led him to a cave deep in the woods; all kinds of scents were there, none of them good. Except Merton’s. His Merton was still alive.
“I’m coming to get you, buddy,” He promised, sneaking through the entranceway through tunnel after tunnel, following his nose.
Eventually, he found himself in a large hollowed out room. Several cocoon like objects were around them, none of their contents still bleeding. Then he saw Merton hanging from the ceiling in a corner of the room.
“Merton…” He called, approaching. He seemed to be unconscious, though. With one swift slice, he cut through the material that was holding him up, catching him with ease. “Hey, come on, wake up.”
“Mmmm…” Merton groaned, and then his eyes shot open. “I… what happened?”
“Shh… you’re okay now. Just stay quiet.” Tommy prodded, testing to see if Merton was okay to stand. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
Merton nodded, clinging to Tommy’s arm as he led the way back through the maze of tunnels.
“Any idea what that thing was?” He asked, as they made one of the last turns toward the entrance.
“Dunno. Wendigo, maybe.” he answered.
Tommy stopped. “Get against the wall and don’t move.” He demanded. “It’s around the corner.”
Merton swallowed and did as told. “Fire can kill it.”
“You have the camp lighter?” Tommy asked, relieved when Merton handed him the object. “Be ready to jump on my back.”
“Okay.” He nodded.
Merton pulled off his sweater, rounding the corner quickly. He lit the cloth and hurled it at the beast, watching as it whined and crowed in pain when it caught fire as well.
“Come on.” Tommy hissed, locking his hands around Merton’s knees and taking off towards the parking lot a good several miles away.
By the time he got Merton home, it was past dark, and the blood on Merton’s clothes had spread.
They went through their usual routine, setting up in the bathroom. Merton stripped off his sweatshirt, over shirt and t-shirt - all of which had to be trashed, and Tommy helped him with his shoes, socks, and jeans.
“I see a cut on your forehead, one on your shoulder, and your knees. You’ve got a ton of bruises. Your wrist looks a little swollen, too.” Tommy said, observing the damage. “Don’t think you need stitches, though.”
“Can I take a shower first? I feel gross, and I can clean out the cuts that way.” Merton protested.
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, but make it quick, I want to get that stuff bandaged as soon as possible.”
“Alright.” Once Tommy left the room, he stripped off his boxers and clambered into the shower. He washed quickly, but didn’t skimp with the wounds, making sure to clean them well despite the sting. He grabbed a pair of boxers out of his dresser and then called Tommy back into his room. “Ready.”
“I found this for your wrist.” Tommy declared, producing a wrist split from one of his old sports injuries. “The kits in the kitchen.”
Merton followed him downstairs, seeing everything set up on the table already. “Wolf’s in protect-Merton mode, I take it?”
Tommy nudged him into the chair. “Oh, I’ve been in protect-Merton mode since you disappeared.”
“That was… like 15 hours ago.” Merton noted, glancing at the clock for the first time since they’d arrived home. Five in the morning.
The peroxide stung as much as the water in the shower had, but that was the only pain he felt. The wounds on his knees were fine, just scrapes, but Tommy disinfected them all the same. The one on his shoulder was a bit deeper, requiring three butterflies to close, topped off with a gauze pad. The one on his forehead only needed two and Tommy left that one open.
“Now, I want you to eat something, and then you’re coming to bed with me.”
“Will that help the wolf?”
Tommy nodded. “Always does.”
Merton accepted the toast and orange juice Tommy offered him and ten minutes later, they were curled up in Tommy’s bed.
***
The times when it’s Tommy who’s down for the count, those are the times that Merton nearly loses it. They’d spent weeks tracking the reports of faeries that were rumored to be hibernating around a lake north of Muhlenberg, and they’d gone and underestimated the little devils. By the time they’d realized there was no point in fighting, that this was one thing they had no power over, Tommy had been laced with silver nitrate poison - which as it turned out, coated the flying imps.
“Hold on, Tommy. I’ll get you home.” He said, practically carrying the werewolf’s whole weight as he moved in the general direction of the hearse. It was slow going, but he’d get there.
Instead of home, he stopped them at a hotel, though. There was no treatment for the silver in Tommy’s system; it was all a waiting game. There was nothing Merton could do to help except stay and keep him company when the agony set in.
“Where are we?” Tommy mumbled incoherently some time later, in the midst of a high fever, a few hallucinations, and other symptoms.
“At a hotel. You were so bad in the car I figured we were better off stopping.” Merton explained, pressing a cool rag to Tommy’s head. “There are some gashes on your side; I need you to roll over.”
The younger groaned, but complied, rolling over to reveal the blood soaked towel Merton had laid down before he’d settled Tommy in. Luckily, it hadn’t gone through to the blankets. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” He promised, the supplies from their portable first aid kit already laid out and ready.
He cleaned the wounds thoroughly, trying to get any traces of the poison he could out. There were four in total, and 44 stitches later, they were all closed, several gauze pads covering the disinfected area.
“It hurts so much, Merton.” Tommy practically whimpered, clutching various body parts as the poison worked through his system. “Make it stop.”
Merton crawled onto the bed beside him, running his fingers through Tommy‘s hair. “This is the best I can do. I don’t know if it’s helping you at all, but I don’t know what to do about it…”
Tommy, still lying on his good side, tugged on Merton’s shirt. “Lay down. Like we do when you get hurt and the wolf is possessive.”
Merton complied, lying face to face with the werewolf. It wasn’t how they normally laid, but he wanted to keep an eye on him. “Anything else?”
“No.” Tommy sighed. “It’s better already.”
An idea coming to mind, Merton leaned in closer, pressing his lips against Tommy’s for a brief moment. “That help at all?”
“Yes.” Tommy actually grinned at that, having long awaited that action, though it could have occurred under better circumstances.
“So if I do that again, you think it’ll help?” Merton asked, smiling as well. “In my not so professional, slightly biased, medical opinion, I think you could do with a few more kisses.”
“I, and my protect-Merton senses, think that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
And twenty-seven kisses later, the silver nitrate poisoning was virtually non-existent.
