M4DN3SS R3DACT3D (a sh!t madness combat story)

[[TW0]]

"Now let me get a look at ya." Deimos insisted, moving to stand in front of Sanford and look him up and down.

Nothing major caught his eye right away. A lot of blood, but he could tell what was his and what wasn't. Thankfully, most of it didn't seem to be his.

Sanford took this as a chance to get a better look at Deimos. His shirt was open across his chest, showing a few old scars and pretty much all of his new ones. That had to be on purpose.

"Man, why do you always come back lookin' like hell when we're separated?"

Sanford stood there awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away. He felt like he needed to sit down, but he figured Deimos would make him do that in a moment anyway.

Fuck. What if he sees?

"Ahh shit, 'Ford, we gotta fix that, the scar opened up,"

Goddamnit!

Deimos motioned to an open, now bleeding wound in the side of Sanford's stomach. It was small, but that hadn't stopped it from being incredibly painful.

Sanford looked down at it like he wasn't already aware. Before he could say he'll take care of it, Deimos stepped in more, looking at it closer.

"Wait. What's... am I seein' things, 'Ford?"

Sanford stared at him, slowly moving his hand over the wound. "Uh.. no? I don't-"

"Nah, look." Deimos brushed his hand away, and Sanford tensed up. "The blood, it's-"

Sanford shrugged. "S'just dirty. Don't worry about it."

"Sanford."

Sanford sighed, "I said don't worry, alright? S'nothing." He tried to sound more insistent. "I promise. Besides, you know how I'd be acting if I.. y'know."

Deimos thought about this more a moment. Mainly because thinking about it for much longer than that was painful. 

"Mmmkay.. Can I at least fix it up for ya? S'only fair."

"...Sure."

Sanford sat down at the edge of the small bed towards the back of the room. While Deimos was getting everything set up, he kept an eye on the scar.

Well. This one's gonna hurt like a bitch.

Deimos knelt down in front of him, hands covered in antiseptic.

"Don't move, I'm gonna gonna clean it up."

"Alright, I- oh, fucking- hell!" Sanford hissed through gritted teeth, tilting his head back. Deimos hesitated before continuing. He knew how it felt, both him and Sanford did this to themselves and each other plenty of times. He only felt more guilty when he pulled back and looked up, and it was clear by his face that Sanford was just shutting himself up to not seem dramatic.

"Shit. M'sorry, 'Ford, I didn't think-"

"S'fine, ignore me." Sanford sighed, a bit more than confused at why it was so much more painful this time than it usually was. "You're doin' good."

The two heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. Sanford waited for them to continue, but they didn't. He knew what that meant.

Sanford took a deep breath, "The fuck do you want, Hank?"

Hank stared at the bedroom door, which he was very much standing right in front of, in disbelief. "Wh- How'd you know I was here?!"

"Heard you walkin' up, and you just stopped by the door. If you're gettin' off on my suffering you can just say that."

"Fuck off! M'not like that."

"You fuck off, this isn't even your room."

Hank swung open the door, making Deimos turn around in surprise.

"..That's not fucking off."

"It ain't really your room either, remember?" Hank said slyly, approaching the two. Deimos looked up at him, slightly annoyed, before continuing to work on the scar. Sanford was relieved to see him quickly working at the stitching.

Hank sat down on the bed beside him.

"So.. what the hell happened after we left? You look like shit."

"Hm, thought I looked good. It was nothin' serious.." Sanford responded simply, and Deimos shot him a look. "Honest. There was just- a lot of 'em."

"I told you we should've stayed," Deimos insisted, looking up at Hank. He'd just finished the stitching, but he'd gotten distracted from that now. "There was no way we got all of them."

"Bullshit. He handled them just fine. I'd do it again if it m-"

Hank was cut off by Sanford pushing him away.

It took no effort from him, but Hank slammed into the wall. Deimos struggled to not laugh at him.

"What the fuck?!"

"Keep your fucked up mouth shut," Sanford pulled him up by the collar of his shirt and dropped him back on his feet. "And PLEASE get the fuck out so i can go shower and change."

"Fine, damn," Hank lightly punched him in the arm as he walked past. "Nasty ass."

"Asshole."

Hank slammed the door shut.

Deimos smirked, turning to Sanford. "That was just to get him out, wasn't it?"

"It was, but- I probably should get cleaned up for real." He looked down at himself, then at Deimos. "You should too. Get some rest, alright? I dunno what Hank's makin' us do tomorrow."

"Got it."

 "And.. thanks for helpin' me out."

Deimos smiled. "'All for you, 'Ford'.

Sanford stared at Deimos, slightly taken aback by this. 

"..same for you, Dei. Always."

"Well good!" The shorter man happily replied, finally getting a smile out of Sanford. "'Cause I don't wanna leave you with a bad partner. Or Hank."

"Ehh. Same thing depending on the day."

Deimos smirked and rolled his eyes. He didn't want to leave Sanford alone, but he was probably needing it. As Sanford turned to look at himself in the mirror, Deimos saw himself out. "I'll be back when you look pretty again!"

Sanford watched him leave. The door closed.

Sanford took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, convincing himself the black liquid starting to seep through one of them was nothing he needed to worry about, and went into the bathroom.