Psychopaths can't love, that's for sure. But what could be so wrong about liking one anyway?
This is the rather long (Like, I'm warning you, it's over 400 pages in type 11 writing...So be prepared)fanfiction with a lot of edge, angst and smut. Lot'...
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You aimlessly wander through the streets, eyes glued to the number on the paper. That amount would be enough for, well, forever. You stand before the creaky door and decide to sit down on the stairs in front of the building, you wanted to wait for Jamison. A short idea crosses your mind, if they should end up causing you more trouble than it was all worth, like, actually dragging you back to Junkertown, you could just hand them over to the authorities and leave with the money. It would be perfect, allowing you to build up a easy life in the civilised world, or maybe even join the Overwatch team to redeem yourself. But the mere thought of never seeing Rat again was enough to place a hold to that thought almost instantly, you were not ready to give up on him just yet, he was the closest thing you had right now. Folding the papers neatly, you hid them in your pocket, just in case. You knew it would be better for you and your general well being to just turn the two in, and still you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Maybe you were to caring about Rat, maybe Angela was right after all, there was nothing good that could come from this. Such a unstable character could only end in disaster, only only defending someone solemnly based on how they looked wasn't very wise either.
A couple of people passed by while you waited on the cold stone steps, a few giving you curious eyes. You pulled the scarf over your face even more, you couldn't imagine how much of a fiasco it would be if someone recognized you. Moments later you saw a familiar looking person walking towards the house, you immediately jumped up and made your way towards Rat. You could tell something was terribly wrong, and you didn't like it one bit, even though you wished it wasnt that way. As soon as you carefully fold your arms around him, Jamie's entire body falls forward, fortunately you don't have trouble holding him upright.
"Come on man, just a few more steps." You encourage him, but you dont receiving any form of answer to your request "Fine, at least hold on properly." You whisper sweetly, again, only getting a low groan as a reply. At that point you don't really care anymore and just grab his hips and lift him up to the point where he can at least wrap his legs around you, dragging him upstairs would have just been a pain. "So, hold on now, or you can walk yourself." You huff, before attending the tedious walk up the stairs.
Once inside you head straight for the bathroom, since you are sure that that's where you left all the stolen medical equipment. His face still hiding in the crook of your neck, you set him down at the tiled wall, before hurriedly grabbing the bag where you stored all you presumably need. Kneeling in front of him you pull aside the coat sleeve covering the shoulder that is sticky with blood by now. It looks a lot worse than you thought it would, the edges of the teeth imprints are rough and stick out quit a bit, the depth going disgustingly deep.
You cover your mouth for a moment of shock, was that really you? That wouldn't, no couldn't be, you didn't even bite that hard, well, that is what you presumed anyway. You nimbly looked through the supplies, discovering you didn't even have stitches with you. You tried to think of another method to close up the worst, but the only thing you could scramble up was burning it out. But you knew how painful that could be. "Jamie?" You murmur with a hint of guilt in your tone "Can I maybe borrow a lighter?"
