Longer Writes

Hurt Pt. 4

Soft belly skin and wiry hair graced the pads of Brin's palms when his brain finally stuttered awake, shoulders molded to the curve of his bedmate's back. One arm was trapped under their head, but the free one absently traced cords of fat-covered muscle, grazing new moles and slivers of straight scars with every stroke. The soft, happy sighs it got him tugged at his eyelids, but Brin wasn't quite that level of awakeness yet, so he settled for nuzzling at silky, cedar-scented curls instead.

His bedmate squirmed as Brin's claws grazed across a tender collection of old cuts along their ribs, hips burrowing into his stomach and disturbing a sharp, vicious pain in his leg.

Brin yelped and drew back, eyes flying open to pale, freckled skin and ginger fluff. His leg panged again as he curled in on himself, shuffling unconsciously towards the corner of the bed. Garth twisted his head around, bleary-eyed and hair sticking to his cheek.

"G'm'nin B." He mumbled, wiping drool off the corner of his mouth. "Glad y'r not dead."

If Brin's heart hadn't been hammering in his chest, pumping wave after wave of burning agony through his bones, he probably would've taken the time to admire this. The curve of Garth's shoulder squaring as his hand shifted and pushed him up into a cross-legged sit. The deep, unhurried stretch when he was finally upright, muscles trembling before giving up their hold on sleep. The casual way he crossed his arms to hide his chest before he turned back, giving Brin a quiet once-over. Those warm, tired eyes buzzing to life like a neon sign as he studied Brin's crumpled form.

"Okay, two things. One, don't shift out of...whatever form that is, before I've gotta chance to get that wrap off you. And two, can ya take pain meds?"

"Not the human stuff." Brin grit out, throat dry and voice raspy. "Doesn't work on me."

"Ya got any idea what does work, then?"

"My side, left top drawer. Green child-lock cap."

"Okay, cool. Stay there." Garth walked all of five feet to the bathroom and flung the door open with a flourish, fingers hooking the doorframe as he went in.

"Yes, because I'm just gonna jump out the window like this."

"Weah weah weah, I'm grumpy 'cause I shoved my foot into a garbage disposal!" He mocked from the open bathroom door, rattling about Brin's medicine drawer and no doubt messing up the entire thing.

"I can guarantee that I'm not that stupid, asshole."

"Well then, what the hell did you do? Get stuck in a bear trap with a wolverine?" He poked his head back out, holding a pill bottle for inspection. "This one?"

"Yeah. Just chuck it."

"Bad idea, I literally can't hit the broad side of a barn. Gimme a sec." He disappeared and Brin's mouth tightened, kneading sharp claws into his palms to try and split his attention away from the offending limb.

Garth came back out in his banana-colored hoodie, cup full of water in one hand and a couple pills in the other.

"Does puppy man need help sitting up, or can you get there on your own?"

"You gonna be like this with all your patients? Because, if so, I pity your future hospital." He shoved himself up against the wall, wincing at the pressure of his heel on the bed.

"I spent three hours cleaning your blood off shitty laminate flooring and grimy walls, call this my payment." He handed over the pills and watched with a degree of annoyed disappointment as the wolf swallowed them dry. "Drink the flipping water, heathen."

"No."

"I'm gonna go make food. If this-" he set the plastic, child-sized cup on the dresser and pointed at it. "-isn't empty by the time I'm back, I'm forcing it down your throat."

"You terrify me." Brin remarked sarcastically and rolled his eyes, but snatched the blue plastic all the same.

"Good boy!" Garth teased, patting the wolf's head right on the messy white stripe in his hair before whipping out of reach of his snapping teeth. "I'll be back when the drugs kick in. Have fun!"