BBS One-Shots

Cramps

It was a mantra in his mind, now. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine. He'd said it so much in the past month that he was starting to think it was the only thing he'd said. It wasn't, of course, but it was close. He hadn't really been talking much.

Brock had been through too much since the beginning of the month. He'd been beaten, bones had been snapped, he was almost killed multiple times, and he was... well, let's just say he hadn't given into something, and he payed dearly for it. As in, body, dearly.

But that had all passed now. He was on the mend, so to speak. He still had his right arm in a sling because of his broken collarbone, and he sometimes had a limp or trouble walking because of the healing burns on his left leg. Every now and again he'd get a bad headache or a nosebleed from his once-severe concussion; on one occasion he had passed out, but it was late at night and everybody just assumed it was from pure exhaustion.

So, here Brock was, staying as silent as ever as everyone left on a mission. The only two people staying behind would be Nogla and Lui, but that was simply because Lui had to help Nogla with his aim; ever since he'd gotten his wrist snapped a few months back, his left hand shook, so Evan had ordered Lui to help him. That, and the fact that Evan needed to see them get together, their pining was obvious to everyone except each other.

Brock sat lazily in the common room of the underground headquarters to the 'Owl Cave' as Evan had so graciously decided to call it. In actuality, it was a hidden hangar beneath Mt. Chilliad with multiple rooms and such that Evan had secretly purchased for the purpose of their 'gang', if that's what you wanted to call it. In all honestly, it was more of a vigilante group, but whatever.

Brock shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable. His arm groaned in protest when he moved again, trying to lay down on the couch with only his left arm. He shifted a little more, swinging up his left leg so all over his body was on the couch. He closed his eyes, a breath leaving his body as the TV played something random on the travel channel.

Brock felt an ache in his arm and attempted to shift, but found out that his body wouldn't move. He simply sighed and let his body relax again, sinking into the semi-comfortable couch cushions.

Brock whimpered when he moved again, his arm cramping into an uncomfortable position and his collarbone aching in response. He tried moving, but it was like his entire body cramped and tended up. With a grunt, Brock forced himself to moved, eliciting a hiss from his mouth. He whined and just grabbed the pillows from the couch and a blanket and threw them onto the floor, collapsing on top of them. Sure, it wasn't a mattress, but at least he wouldn't cramp as much.

Brock closed his eyes, taking a deep breath once more before actually managing to fall asleep.

Brock woke up with a jolt, his body completely tense. He let out a choked noise, his body practically frozen. He couldn't move. He could not move.

His body was cramping up and it hurt like hell. He could faintly hear movement in the kitchen connected to the common area. He assumed that whoever was in their knew he was sleeping, or had been, and was obviously trying to stay quiet.

Brock hissed again, to get out any noise. He needed to relax, but every time he tried pain would spiral through his collar or his leg and his body would get tighter. He wanted to scream, to yell, to make a loud noise, but he couldn't do it. Then he realized that the noise in the kitchen had stopped. He whimpered again, and something was set down. Footsteps hurried towards Brock, and then Evan came into view.

"Brock? Are you alright?"

Brock glanced up to Evan with watery eyes and his body got even more tense. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

"Brock, what's wrong?"

Evan kneeled next to him and noticed exactly how tensed up he was. Evan sat him up and started to gently rub circles on his right shoulder, gently grabbing his hand, hopefully easing the pain. He looked worried, extremely so, but he didn't say anything until Brock's body finally eased up.

"Thank you," Brock breathed out, but he didn't let go of Evan's hand. "That," he swallowed, pausing, "was something I'd really like to never experience again."

Evan gently helped him stand, wrapping an arm around his waist so he wouldn't have to limp as heavily.

"Come on, then, Brock," Evan sighed, "let's actually get you to bed."

Brock mumbled something, but Evan didn't hear it. They made their way to Evan's room, and when Brock realized that he wasn't in his own room he was reluctant to sleep.

"Brock," Evan said, forcing the man to lay down. He missed the deep inhale from Brock, who had his nose in the pillows. "I want to make sure I'm around if you cramp up again, so you're sleeping in my room for tonight, okay?"

Brock looked ready to protest, but Evan's stern gaze shut him up easily. He didn't speak, instead he simply sank further into the mattress.

Evan sighed softly when he saw that Brock had easily slipped back into a restful state, and he went back to the common area to put away the pillows and the blankets, and finish up making himself a sandwich in the kitchen. He quickly finished it, then head back to Brock in his room; he was still sound asleep.

Evan took a deep breath and changed, eyes never leaving the form of his... friend.

Evan wouldn't say that, sometimes, he wished it could be more, because Brock seemed to be happily spending most of his time with other people.

Evan wouldn't know that Brock just wanted to get his attention, and Brock wanted so much more than a friendship.

Evan let Brock sleep in the bed, alone, while he curled up in a little chair in the corner of his room. He said nothing as he watched him shift around, waiting to see if he would ever really be needed by the injured man.