Scribbles and Drabbles

Last Icefire - Trent's Captive 2

Crouch waited patiently for him to pull himself back together, clutching to him and letting him sob into his shoulder. His rough hand curved into his hair while the other wrapped around his waist. It was humiliating, but Crouch held him and didn't comment as Trent pulled away and wiped at his face. His eyes burned, and his cheeks were stiff with tears.

"How's your arm?" Crouch checked as Trent settled and no longer trembled. His voice was considerably gentler than his taunting.

"Manageable." 

"Good. Give me ten minutes, and when we're at my hotel room, I'll get the infection out."

Trent didn't protest being led away. Crouch's fingers were hot in his hands, and shadows tangled them all together. True to his word, once they arrived at Crouch's hotel room, the man sat Trent on the toilet and began to clean the wound of pus. It hurt as Crouch firmly drew the ooze out and drained it into the hotel sink. His nails dug into his skin and pinched at the edges of infected flesh until the pus turned bloody. 

The smell clogged his nose. Maybe because he hadn't forced more out than needed, it hadn't smelled too bad at his apartment. With Crouch pulling the worst of it out, it made him gag with rotting eggs. Crouch hummed reassuringly.

"You took good care of this," Crouch approved. "No spreading beyond the norm, and it's not aggravated."

"Basic soap and water. Kylie drilled into us after Ghoul almost lost his eye to the infection." He didn't remember how that situation came bout. Ghoul was a clownling, but he'd come to Kylie for help. Kylie never refused a patient. 

"She's good like that. We used to fight a lot, so I suppose it would be wise for you to know,"  Crouch said, turning Trent's face to stop looking at the mess. Something sliced through his skin and he bit his lip to stop from screaming. He glanced but looked back as quickly. A clump of black cells and blood pulsed on his arm and spilt over his flesh, and the white porcelain sank.  Warm water spread over it, and Crouch cleaned it away. "Easy, it's almost done."

The infection was a means to an end, and that end was Trent under Crouch's mercy. Trent let his head flop forward. The next time would be to cage him under the Mad Clown's power and mark him forever more. 

"How is Kylie?" Trent asked, searching for something to talk about that wasn't about shadows and infection. 

"Mayor Floatsom has her working on a cure for the cancer," Crouch said, "Ghoul continues to follow her around like a lovesick puppy. There's a betting pool on how long it takes him to tell Kylie he likes her."

"Poor Ghoul. Kylie is terrible for noticing the obvious."

Crouch chuckled, and warm water resprayed over his arm. He traced a line over Trent's arm. Trent dared look again, but it looked considerably better. No black liquid seeped from his flesh, and his flesh was a healthy colour. Crouch put butterfly stitches where he'd cut open Trent's arm and rewrapped Trent's arm and hands with better quantity gauze than Trent used. 

Except, as Trent pulled his hands back to himself, he could see a black spot peeking out of the bandage. It didn't hurt. It wasn't an infection. Was it something worse, or maybe better? "Please tell me you're not using me as a carrier?"

"It is only one. Enough to know where you are with more precision than trying to smell your location in the wind. It's not like you haven't carried for me before."

"I don't think the week you had me locked in a cage counts as experience."

"Yes, well. You know what not to do," Crouch shrugged. "Soap, nothing stronger, and don't try to remove it and don't drink alcohol for the next month."

"Good thing I don't drink," Trent pulled his arm close as if to shield it. Most shadow types had familiars or a sort. The ability to spawn them was more select, and while Trent could host, he couldn't create one. It would leech his powers and make him vulnerable until it was ready to emerge from his skin and become a minion for its sire.

"From what I've seen, you never recovered your previous minion. You could do with a minion or two," Crouch washed his hands and dried them. Trent followed him to the bedroom and sat gingerly on the end of the bed. 

"You're letting me keep it?"

"Provided you behave and come home."

"If you check my emails, you'll see that it was always happening in about a month," Trent said, unable to keep his annoyance out of his voice. "I have two weeks left of university, and then I have some time to close up my life."

"Don't be so dramatic."

"Have you ever tried to move out of an apartment you've lived in for two years? There's a lot of crap to throw out and forms to file," Trent said. 

"Ok, that's fair," Crouch said with a bit more understanding. "I'll agree that stuff takes time." He sat on the bed with more confidence than Trent, sitting against the headboard. A shadow looped around Trent's waist and pulled him between Crouch's legs. Arms curled around him, and Crouch held him. Trent didn't fight it, scared. "You were coming home?"

"Where else was I going to go?"

"This is terrible timing,"

"I agree."

"I'm sorry," Crouch said.

Trent closed his eyes and tried not to panic. "You told Floatsom I was here."

"He did," the familiar smiley voice agreed. Trent didn't open his eyes. He was sort of afraid to. Crouch rested his chin on Trent's shoulder, and a hand rested on his jeans. "Hello, Whisper. You look well. A little tired but well."

"It's the end of uni. Who does sleep well?"