𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬// (Lee Christmas x Reader) (The Expendables)

two.

When you woke up the next morning to a knock on the door you groaned, your head aching and stomach turning from the late night binge drinking session you embarked on in your living room with nobody but the late night show hosts to keep you company.

You pealed yourself off of your bed, where you slept on top of the blankets, wearing only a t-shirt and shorts. You didn't remember changing, but you were glad you at least had the ability to do it. There was more knocking, and you grumbled as you stumbled around, maybe still a little drunk. You couldn't tell. You peaked into the peephole and sighed.

"This is unexpected," you said, squinting against the lights in the hallway as you pulled the door open. All of your curtains were drawn and lights switched off, so the sudden brightness sent a shooting pain through your head.

Lee stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. "Are you- are you still drunk?"

You raised an eyebrow, feeling suddenly much more sober as you heard that little bit of anger on the edge of his words. You let go of the door and crossed your arms.

"No," you said, "hungover as hell, maybe. What's the matter with you?'

He took his hat off and revealed a nice gash across his forehead which was beginning to scab over. You winced.

"Got into a bit of a bar fight last night," he said with a smirk, "I guess we both had a rough night."

You sighed and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him in and locking the door behind him. You shook your head.

"Dammit, Lee, why'd you go and do that? Weren't you with the guys?"

"Yeah, they pulled me off of him," he said, "you should see the other guy."

You shot him a look and pulled a first-aid kit from your medicine cabinet in the kitchen, fighting the growing discomfort in your joints. You didn't hold your alcohol well.

"Not sure I want to," you said, forcing him to sit on an old wobbly stood while you pulled out some alcohol wipes, "why the fuck did you do this?"

He shrugged, and you could feel the weight of his eyes on your face. You tried really hard to focus on what you were doing so you didn't give anything away, but you suddenly felt very small next to him.

"Why do I do anything?" He asked, and his shift in tone made you look up at him and meet his eyes. You watched each other for a second, and you felt another ping of guilt hit your heart. His words were calmer, not laced with sarcasm or anger, and much softer and sadder than you had ever heard him before.

"Is this about what I said?" You asked, looking at the bruising gash on his forehead while he kept his eyes trained on your face. You wiped the dried up blood away and accidentally picked the scab, a little bit of blood bubbling up. You reached for a gauze pad and held it there, trying to quell the bleeding before it got out of hand. Head wounds could bleed all day if you let them.

Lee let out a breathy sigh and you felt his eyes drop. You were relieved to not feel them glued to you anymore.

"I don't know," he said after a minute, "maybe. I think it might be part of it. I don't know."

You drew in a careful breath as you pealed the gauze away, wiping the open wound with more alcohol wipes. He winced a little, but hardly moved.

"Why'd you come here?" You asked, taking out some steri-strips and sealing off the wound. You went to the sink and washed your hands.

"I don't know," he said, leaning back on the counter, "I woke up in Tool's garage, I felt like shit, and nobody was around. Then the next thing I knew I was at your door."