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 Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 10:08 am
"She's under the name 'Cassie,' " Caspian mumbled as he shifted slightly. Fortunately, the phone was in the pocket that was currently facing up, not the one pressed against the pillows. He was relatively certain that if his sister got a text about staying over at a guy's house and getting drunk she wouldn't bat an eye, except maybe to make a snarky comment about it, but he would just let Peter text the simplest explanation.
His back exposed the way it was, there was a small smattering of stars tattooed in a cluster on Caspian's right shoulder blade, and another smaller mark near his left hip that had two 'C's' back to back in a black circle. "Oh, I'm doing just peachy," he mumbled, and then let out another sharp hiss as the needle pressed into his skin, knuckles turning white as he gripped the couch. It wasn't as painful as it could have been; the alcohol was beginning to take wonderful effect, easing him into a state of hazy throbbing that was less agony and more stinging.
Slowly, his hand began to relax, Caspian's eyes still shut, and although his breathing was a little labored, some of the tension seemed to have eased from his shoulders.
"Caspian," he said, letting the alcohol numb his mind. "I'm your brother's new charity case. Or your dad's, dunno which it is 'cause he didn't answer, but you look like you're his brother and fifteen years old is too old to be his kid, so you're probably his brother."
He tried to stop rambling and failed. Caspian flinched at another poke of the needle, exhaled, and said, "Yeah. It's a b***h to keep up but I like the element of surprise and plain black is boring."
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 10:35 am
“I’m pretty sure that makes you his only charity case. I’m the one babysitting him, you know,” Peter chirped, resting his chin on his palm, his elbow on the back of the couch as he leaned over it. “It’s probably the other way around, you know,” he added, but held up his hand in surrender when he got a sudden glare from Michael as he continued to work in relative silence. “Fine fine,” he sighed, wondering if he should be more grossed out about the blood and open wounds and all that, but couldn’t bring himself to really care. It was cool, if anything. Sucked, but was cool.
“Caspian huh? Like the sea? That’s cooler than our names. Peter… Michael… Christopher… our parents weren’t as creative. And duh, I’m his brother,” he confirmed, his face twisting as if he thought of something unpleasant. “Michael being a father sounds terrible. He can barely take care of himself -- right right,” he quickly added, holding up his hand once more as he received another glare. “Right, we’re not to talk of your faults. It’ll ruin the perfect image.” It wasn’t so much a matter of holding up his perfect image or whatever, but he was trying to get Caspian to tell him when s**t like this happened. Next time, if he took what Peter said to heart, Caspian would probably look to someone else for help. Which, if Michael thought about it, might be better for Caspian. Michael only knew of his own abilities, but there could very well be someone else who could help him more.
He knew the needle pricks stung, and Michael probably stitched everything closed with more than really needed, but he wanted to make sure it all healed properly. He was once again thankful for the clean cuts, as it made stitching everything much easier. And once he was done with the stitches, he cleaned what was left of the blood away, and placed strips of medical tape over the top, so if Caspian moved around he wouldn’t make things worse.
“I need to get to your chest now,” he frowned, looking over his work on Caspian’s back, before his eyes lingered on the small tattoos on his shoulder, and then the one on his hip. He thought the stars were appropriate, easily recalling their first run-in as civilians. Which really wasn’t that long ago. The double Cs made sense if his sister's name was Cassie.
"Almost done, I promise..."
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 10:46 am
"Somehow," Caspian mumbled, "That doesn't surprise me." Meaning that Peter was the one that looked after Michael. He didn't see the glare, but he heard Peter's assent and couldn't help but smile, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly.
"Like the Narnia book," he murmured, breathing out slowly, a little raggedly. "My twin sister is Cassiopeia. Our mom wasn't exactly conventional."
In any sense of the word, really, but that was exactly why Caspian liked her as much as he did. She had let them do their own thing without being overbearing, but had still cared and loved them enough to make sure that they had a good living and morals.
Mostly. Caspian was questionable.
The alcohol made it hard to think properly. "I like the name Michael," Caspian said, lashes fluttering as the needle pushed again, but Michael was working quickly and efficiently. "It's a nice, solid name. Peter's cool too," he added, mostly just for his benefit. "I like my name, but people misspell it a lot."
He almost didn't hear Michael's request, the words filtering through his hazy brain a few seconds later.
"Does that mean I have to sit up," Caspian groaned, attempting to push himself vertical. "I feel like a truck ran over me. Though really, that booze is pretty nice, I like it."
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 11:18 am
“Oh that’s cool,” Peter nodded in agreement when Caspian explained where his name came from. “Dude, you’ve got a twin? That’s cool, too,” he added, wondering what it would have been like to actually have a sibling close to his age. His brothers were seven and fourteen years older than him, with Michael being out of the picture until recently.
He watched Caspian curiously when he said how he liked their names, but put more emphasis on Michael being a good name, but didn’t make any comment. At least not yet. Not while Caspian was still there.
“Here, let me get the blanket,” he offered, reaching down to lift it up as Caspian pushed himself up to sit, dropping it over his shoulders to keep him warm. It was weird, having someone he didn’t even know be brought back to the house to be fixed up. Usually it was just family and close friends who they knew were involved in the whole… war thing. Although, since Caspian didn’t respond to which of the two he was, maybe he really wasn’t a knight or senshi.
Peter waited until Caspian seemed comfortable enough, and then bent over the back of the couch to try and pull out the phone that was in the pocket he’d been laying on, seeing the shine off the case. “I’ll… just take care of this text,” he said, although held it in front of Caspian to unlock it, first, and then backed away. Michael frowned in concern when Caspian finally sat up, looking over his chest to make sure it still looked okay enough for him to try and fix. He peeled off the tape that he’d placed over the cut as carefully as he could, still kneeling in front of the couch and in front of Caspian as he did so.
“No more booze for you. Once the alcohol is through your system, you should be taking normal medicine. I want you to stay here tonight, at least. I need to make sure everything will start healing well enough. Make sure they don’t get infected,” he explained, taking the towel that was on the couch and setting it over Caspian’s lap so he could wash the wound with the water he still had, cleaning away the dried blood.
“It looks like you got lucky. The cut isn’t deep enough to require stitches. I’ll just use some butterfly bandages here, okay?” And by some, he meant all of them. He already knew he wasn’t going to be going into work the next day. Meaning Peter would stay home from school, too. It was way too late and he didn’t want to leave Caspian alone after what happened, especially since he wanted to make sure there was no infections. He was no doctor, but he’d had medical training. Patching up wounds was fine, but prescribing antibiotics was a different thing entirely.
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 11:33 am
"My twin's a brat," said Caspian, but it was clear by the tone of his voice that it was said with affection, not disdain. He let Peter drag the blanket away from him, though it was done somewhat reluctantly, since it meant he had nothing to hold onto anymore. He swiped the phone open and let out a hiss as Michael tugged the tape off of his chest.
"Taking alcohol away is rude, you know," Caspian informed him as he worked. He closed his eyes as the other worked, the pain mostly dulled to something like an ache that made him feel tired and woozy and pathetic. He was pretty sure he still had dirt and grime in his hair as well, and everything smelled like a mixture of rain, blood, and antiseptic.
"Whatever works, officer," Caspian mumbled, and would have saluted, but that took too much effort. His hands were curled around the edge of the couch, and at the very least, in spite of his hazy mind, he had just enough of his alcohol-muted senses not to make an inappropriate comment while Peter was in the room.
"Sleep sounds like a really great idea right now," Caspian went on, swaying slightly, and he gripped the couch a little more tightly. "Or maybe another drink. Or maybe never getting stabbed by that Captain again, that ******** shithead."
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 11:45 am
“Captain?” Michael repeated, his eyes looking up at Caspian’s face. He knew it would have been the Negaverse, but to have a Captain attack him and still get away with his life…? Michael frowned and continued working on Caspian’s chest to close up the wound, and then went to sit on the couch beside him to fix up his left arm.
“You can sleep soon. You should have some water, first,” he added, although he didn’t think Caspian was awake or sober enough to really comprehend what was going on. He’d already had a lot to drink. He looked pale from blood loss, which meant the alcohol had less to be diluted through. If they weren’t careful, Caspian would be suffering from a hangover in the morning, on top of everything that had already happened.
He didn’t push for more information about the Captain that Caspian mentioned, instead working on cleaning and stitching up his arm, and covering that with medical tape and wrapped with gauze. He didn’t think Caspian would have the ability to keep himself upright for much longer, so to keep him from toppling over, Michael moved off the couch to crouch in front of him again. He carefully pried Caspian’s hands off the edge of the couch, and tried pulling him away from the back of the couch just enough so he would be able to wrap the bandages around his chest and back.
“Hold onto me for a minute?” he asked, hoping that wasn’t too weird. He just needed Caspian to lift his arms up enough for him to finish with the bandages.
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 11:58 am
"Didn't get his name, but he was stronger than me," Caspian said, his eyes still closed. "Obviously. Stabbed me a few times then ran off, I dunno why, 'cause he said he was gonna kill me. That didn't happen, but it sure as hell feels like it did."
He was vaguely aware of Michael still doing something, moving around, but the alcohol was numbing his senses and making him feel woozy and slightly dizzy. Caspian wasn't exactly a lightweight but drinking straight alcohol and having been in as much pain as he was was a bad combination.
Maybe if he just slept, that would be great. Really fantastically great. And if he woke up in the morning without the memories of pain and metal across his skin, that would be even fantastically greater.
Caspian shifted forward obediently, and without much conscious thought, slid his arms around Michael's neck, pressing his forehead into his shoulder. He supposed, dimly, that Peter was probably still around somewhere, and the contrast in his and Michael's appearances and everything made for a strange picture, but he was too far gone to care.
"Y'know, if you wanted to get me with my shirt off, y'coulda just asked," Caspian mumbled sleepily.
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 12:22 pm
Michael resisted rolling his eyes at the suggestive teasing, focusing instead on getting the gauze wrapped around Caspian’s torso, wanting to make the bandaging tight but not too tight that it would hurt him. Caspian had been doing great, better than Michael expected him to. Although he supposed it had something to do with how stubborn he was.
“I’ll keep that in mind, next time,” Michael replied, if only to humor him and keep his spirits up. The thought of a Captain going after him and threatening to kill him, only to disappear concerned him. What could have happened to make the Captain to leave without finishing the job? It would have been easy in the state he found Caspian in.
“You’re going to be miserable in the morning,” he added, feeling guilty for that, but knowing there wasn’t much more that could be done with the time that they had. Thankfully, being magical meant that they healed faster than normal humans, so hopefully his recovery time would be a couple weeks, tops.
Once the bandages were done, and the leftover gauze was placed to the side, Michael debated on pulling Caspian away from him, or just leaving him be. The hesitation meant that he knelt there for another minute or so, letting Caspian hold onto him with his arms around his neck and head against his shoulder, knowing very well what it was like to be drunk and in pain.
Eventually, though, he started to stand from where he knelt in front of the couch, but instead of prying Caspian’s arms off of him, he simply did what he’d done earlier, and put his arm underneath his legs to lift him up. The couch was not going to be very comfortable for someone trying to recover being stabbed and then plied with alcohol. Peter, who had finished the text to the sister, waited for further instruction, but when he didn’t seem to be needed any more, he went about cleaning up what he could.
“I can sleep on the couch,” he offered, although he was already sure Michael planned on putting Caspian in his own room, now that he was finished bandaging him up and sleep seemed like the next thing to do. He was thankful he’d never had to go through something like getting stabbed multiple times, but at least he knew Michael could handle something like that if he did. Michael shook his head, “It’s fine.” Or at least he hoped Caspian was okay with that. If he’d rather sleep in Peter’s room because maybe that would be less weird, then he would, but he didn’t think there was anything wrong with letting him use his bed for the night, or two, depending on how well he was recovering. And what Caspian wanted to do, of course. He might be more concerned about getting home.
“You okay with that?” he asked, although it didn’t seem as though Caspian would be able to make decisions for himself for much longer, with how the alcohol was working through him.
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 12:31 pm
If he'd been more lucid...well, he probably still would have made some sort of inappropriate comment, just maybe not in front of Peter. And maybe with a little more sass behind it instead of a lot of booze and a hazy, fuzzy feeling head.
A snort escaped him. " 'Next time,' he says," Caspian mumbled, but he sounded amused all the same. The bandages done, he expected Michael to draw immediately away; but when he didn't, Caspian just stayed exactly where he was, too tired and sluggish to consider moving unless forced to.
He felt himself being lifted up in strong arms, and Caspian just held on, a wave of dizziness threatening to overpower him. He made a grunting noise of pain, a shudder racing through him, but he bore past it, pushed it aside, and focused on the fact that he would be hopefully unconscious very, very soon.
"All good with me, officer and lost boy," Caspian said, waving one of his hands, but it dropped back down pretty fast, content with staying still where he was. "As long as I can stop thinking so much, that would be really fantastic right about now."
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 12:46 pm
Without any complaints, or complaints that Caspian might have been capable of at the moment, Michael finished the journey to his room where he removed one arm from holding Caspian against him so he could pull the covers down.
Probably unsurprising, he had his bed pristinely made from that morning when he got up. His years in the Navy were still ingrained into him, and he went about carefully folding each corner of the sheets whenever the bed was made.
His room was rather plain and boring. The walls were grey, the bed was a darker grey, the curtains were grey. There was a bookshelf filled with books from all types of genres, from political to science fiction to fantasy. There was a desk with a computer, and a dresser with a mirror on top, but everything Michael seemed to pick out for himself was apparently grey. His room, his car, his house was even grey. There was just no need, or room, for color in his life. It took too much thought and energy.
But that hardly mattered, and didn’t change the fact that Caspian was exhausted by this point. Not wanting to roughly pull him away from where he held onto his neck, Michael sat on the edge of the bed before trying just that. When he was sure Caspian wouldn’t fall, he lifted his hands up to unhook Caspian’s from around his neck, and shifted him onto the bed to he could lay down.
“Need anything?” he asked, unable to stop himself once he managed to get Caspian under the covers and pulled the blankets and sheets up on top of him. He knew Caspian was pretty out of it, but he figured he might as well ask.
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 12:57 pm
Caspian had somewhat reluctantly opened his eyes as he was carted away, not because he wanted to stay awake, but because he was, in spite of the haze, curious about what this whole living situation looked like. But all he caught was a lot of grey and then he was being laid down on the bed.
He felt his arms being gently but firmly untangled from around Michael's neck and thought it was kind of a shame. In spite of his stubbornness and his scowls and his tendency to leave people in alleyways, it had felt nice to have that sort of warmth to lean against.
"More booze, sleep, and maybe to never get stabbed again," Caspian groaned, pushing his face into the pillow. He curled up on his side, exhaling a long, satisfied breath that he was finally somewhere comfortable that did not make him feel like he was on pins and needles the entire time.
An eye opened, Caspian glancing hazily up at Michael. He stretched out a hand and, with some effort, slid the tips of his fingers through the short strands of mahogany hair around Michael's temple.
"Talk s**t all you want," he said with a lazy grin. "But you're actually a really nice guy, y'know."
His head felt heavy. His limbs felt like too much as he dropped his hand back down, and Caspian closed his eyes again, sighing.
"Just...don't go anywhere," he mumbled vaguely into the pillow, and then, within a few seconds, the blackness had finally, graciously overtaken him, and Caspian was sound asleep.
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2016 1:14 pm
Michael didn’t say anything as Caspian settled against the bed, wanting to wait until he at least closed his eyes to leave and clean up the living room. He was sure the couch would need to be scrubbed clean because of the blood, or even just replaced. It was easy to replace things like that, but when he knew how close Caspian and so many other knights and senshi came to being killed, or were killed, well… a couch was nothing.
He rested with his hand against the bed as Caspian mumbled about booze and sleeping and not getting stabbed, thinking that was a fair enough assessment of what he needed. Thoughts still on how close Caspian came to being killed, and how right he’d been about suggesting how dangerous the war was, he didn’t realize Caspian had lifted his hand to touch his hair and temple until the fingers made contact. Michael froze in place, staring down at him as Caspian grinned, and then finally lowered his hand back down to drift off.
“I’m not as good of a guy as you think,” he said softly, knowing there was really no point in countering him since Caspian was already dead to the world, but Michael knew the other didn’t know him well enough to make that decision. Sure, Caspian might say things like that now, but sooner or later he’d realize why Michael was still alone, despite his looks and money and practically forced charming personality. Not that Caspian ever had the chance to see that side of him, but he could totally turn up the charm if needed.
Still, despite the fact that Caspian was already asleep, and that Peter was probably out in the living room waiting for him, he remained sitting on the bed for a while longer, as if just to make sure Caspian wouldn’t wake up. Finally, maybe half an hour later, he stood from the bed to leave the room, gently shutting the door behind him.
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