M4DN3SS R3DACT3D (a sh!t madness combat story)

[[THR33]]

The water running into the shower's drain was beginning to turn black.

It wasn't dirty, Sanford knew that. The place was old as hell, but unlike a lot of buildings left abandoned in Nevada, the water system was still functioning with pretty decent quality water. He was even able to drink it, which hadn't always been the case in previous places they stopped at.

Sanford wished the shower left him feeling a lot cleaner. For the most part it did, but he still felt disgusting health-wise.

For once, he wished he didn't know why.

Drying off and getting changed- hiding any trace of what he just saw- he hoped Deimos was doing at least a little better than he was. Where even was he? What was he doing? He should probably-

"'Ford?! 'Ford! Sanford, hello?!"

Sanford flinched. The knocking on the door continued. "What the fuck, Dei?"

"Can I come in?"

"I guess."

The door swung open. Deimos walked right past Sanford and started digging around in the cabinets and drawers.

"What are you-"

When Deimos backed up, holding a box of medical thread, Sanford could see a few of the scars on his body had opened up. Some were starting to bleed again, small lines of blood starting to trail down his bare chest and torso.

"Goddamnit, Dei. All of those reopened?"

Deimos shrugged, seeming generally unbothered by the various places he was still bleeding from; not making any urgent attempt to fix them, either.

"Guess so! I didn't notice anything until Hank pointed it out."

God. Sometimes Sanford forgot that Deimos was, and he thought this with love,

Really fucking dense.

Sanford's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Well what the hell were you doing that made all that happen?"

"Nothin', I swear!"

"This shit doesn't happen when you do 'nothin'."

"I was just- walkin' around, and-"

"Walkin' around or tryna work out with a buncha holes in your body?"

Sanford motioned in Deimos's general direction. He'd been talking like he was a little out of breath, his face was clearly flushed and coated with sweat.

"That, or you're sick. Which you can't be, because then you'll give it to me, and then Hank will deem both of us useless if he hasn't already."

"No! I'm fine!"

"So.. first option."

Deimos rolled his eyes. "S'not my fault I couldn't sleep! M'not gonna do it again, if that's what y'wanna hear."

"Aww, thanks, Dei. Now sit down."

"What?"

"Sit. I'm gonna fix you up."

Deimos hopped up on the counter like the open scars weren't hurting him like a bitch, and Sanford got to work.

"So you mean to tell me.."

Sanford pushed his shirt slightly off of his shoulders to get to another scar.

"All of these opened up.. started bleeding.. N'you didn't feel a single one of 'em."

"I really didn't, 'Ford, honest."

"Didn't hurt or nothin'?"

"No, it never- ow!"

Deimos flinched back slightly but quickly calmed himself down like nothing happened.

"You ain't a very good liar, Dei." Sanford smirked, and Deimos rolled his eyes.

"You-.. actually.. I dunno."

"That's right."

Silence fell over the two. Deimos continued to occasionally tense up but stubbornly say "It's fine", Sanford worked as carefully as possible. If it were himself, he would've been done by now. But he didn't want to do someone else the same way he did himself with the stitches sometimes; especially Deimos.

"There." He finally spoke, stepping back from the counter. "All good."

Deimos hopped down and threw his arms around Sanford, making the older man tense up in surprise.

"Thanks, 'Ford."

Deimos stayed put. If it were any other point in the past he knew Sanford would shove him away and hit him upside the head for this.

But he just relaxed instead.

"'Course, Dei."

Then he shoved him away. Playfully, and didn't hit him, which felt like a pretty big plus to Deimos.

"Now go to bed."

"What?! Now?"

"Mmhm. Y'know how Hank is. S'probably gonna make us leave early. Be ready."

"Fine." Deimos rolled his eyes, but relented and left the room nonetheless. "But you better go too."

"'Night, 'Ford."

"'Night."