Fluff Among Thieves [Uncharted 4]

Comfort (Rafe Adler)

Seated in front of a huge history textbook, you nearly dozed off with your face down on top of it, though a loud crack followed by glass shattering on the floor awoke you from your drowsy state. Translating things would have to wait for now.

The sound came from the bathroom down the hall, and you step over a few small crates filled with shiny gold coins and a myriad of small to medium sized treasures inside them. It was only part of the 400 million that was locked away somewhere in the vault under the mansion. Rafe had gotten his treasure, but not after terrorizing the Drake brothers inside Avery's ship to get them.

The door was open as you peek inside, seeing Rafe standing in front of the shattered mirror. His right arm was stained with thick lines of crimson after having struck the glass. "Hon, are you alright??" you ask, pushing farther into the room to examine his wounded arm. "Jesus Rafe..."

You can see the anger and resent in his baggy eyes that were slightly covered by his messy hair. He obviously hadn't slept in days because of those two devil boys. "I... can't..." he begins lowly, and you already knew what was coming.

"You can't enjoy even one of those coins without knowing that those two are still sucking air. I know, you've been saying that for the past 3 days. It's okay, it's over, and Avery's treasure is yours." You would always plead with him to forget about Nathan and Samuel Drake, but he just wasn't able to.

Rafe hadn't touched the treasure since it was dropped off at his place. Most of it was moved into a vault, and you personally asked them to leave some of it out so you could look over it. Buying a yacht and a helicopter would have to come some other time, right now you had to bring your boss back to Earth.

"Your arm, it's cut open pretty bad. You might need stitches. I'll call the doctor." You grasp his uninjured arm and lead him out of the bathroom to clean him up. He doesn't resist, but is still quietly seething underneath his stoic expression.

After Rafe was stitched up and given some pain killers, you let him sleep it off for the rest of the day. Seated on the side of the bed, hand on his and rubbing circles into the top of his hand. Standing up, you quietly make your way out, only you were stopped as his hand reaches for your wrist: gripping it slightly.

"Stay." His voice is barely a whisper.

"I can't, I still have work to do."

A few moments of silence pass, and you heave a defeated sigh, sitting yourself on the side of his giant bed. 'Hope I'm getting paid overtime for this.' you thought. You didn't mind the fact that he found comfort in you, because you were really the only contact he still had around, and could trust.