TWH: Word Prompt Challenges

February Flash Fic - Day 20 - handcuffs

There's another message from David, another something making his phone buzz in his pants pocket. "Alright. Alright," he mutters, hurrying through the lobby area to make his way up to the seventh floor. His partner is clearly very ready to be leave the premises, not that he'll be going back to work any time soon.

There's still quite a bit of physio required before he'll see his partner back, back and seated across the desks from him. It was one of the many complaints he's heard from David over the past few weeks. That, and missing out on Cherrie's - David's third wife - Cherrie's good loving. David had used a few more colorful words.

Settled in with a few others that were also headed upwards he pulls his phone from his pocket. Actually not messages questioning how soon he'll appear in the doorway of David's temporary accommodations, but recommendations about what to be wearing when he does. DON'T BE WEARING THAT RATTY TRAINING SHIRT AGAIN YOU BUM. COULDA AT LEAST PRETENDED TO BE INTERESTED IN HELPING ME GET BETTER FOOD BY FLIRTING WITH THE TECHS. LEAST YOU CAN DO IS SHOW UP WEARING THE ONE FROM THIS YEAR.

Visiting after going to the gym, even if it was just between getting off shift and going home, was still visiting. There were one or two occasions when he'd begged off, though. Several times in a row when he learned she was there visiting, much to David, and Cherrie's, displeasure. The wardrobe demands were probably the result of Cherrie's influence, as were the urges to keep at the dating game until something stuck. They, along with his gran, seemed stuck on the idea that the paramedic that had been on the scene that day was perfect for the job.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth he glances away from his phone, and the messages from his partner, to cast a critical eye at his attire. His badge hangs at his waist, from the waistband of a pair of tactical pants, cause that was all that was left clean in his bag... that and one of the commemorative shirts from a departmental charity run a few years ago. Wasn't from this year but it wasn't his evidently-ratty-yet-oh-so-comfortable shirt from his academy days, either.

Harrumphing, he taps a quick message back - I'LL BE ANOTHER HOUR IN THAT CASE. LAUNDRY RUN.

As he exits onto the seventh floor David's reply arrives - NO YOU DON'T. GET ME OUTTA HERE.

SURE YOU DON'T WANNA CALL CHERRIE?

Cherrie would be at work for another few hours. David could just call any number of the squaddies. They'd all probably show up in dress blues, clearly keen to play David's game of 'how many numbers can you collect'.

GET IN HERE, ASSHOLE

He's not at all surprised to hear David entertaining someone as he closes in on his partner's room. It was another reason he hadn't felt pressed to flirt with anyone to help David gain any favors. Whatever other flaws he had, the man had game. Simple as that.

What stops him cold isn't that David is entertaining anyone. It's who he's entertaining. THE paramedic. She'd seen him on his worst day, and aside from a blearily delivered thanks on the day itself and starched, repeated words a few days after, he can't quite figure out what to say to her. According to David, it was simple: When a smokin woman keeps asking after you, you stop avoiding her and ask her the fuck out!

David grins at him, even though his face is still half purple, black, and blue. "And here he is. Late, and fashionable as ever."

He cuts his eyes hard at his partner but recomposes his face quickly as she laughs and turns to greet him. His words immediately jumble up in his mouth. "Hey. I. Thank you again for..."

"I was just doing my job." She shakes her head, half-laughing as she speaks.

If he could figure out what else to say to her... to make her laugh, in particular. It's nice, her laugh. Kinda like her voice. That voice he can't quite get out of his head, rattling off the state of the scene and the severity of his wounds.

Her eyes flick towards his left shoulder and he reflexively straightens his posture, which of course makes the still-healing wound protest. He winces, trying to keep himself from reaching up to massage the twinging area. "Well, it was a risk."

She seems amused by his response, though her face still prominently conveys concern. "Isn't it always? ... You are taking it easy at the gym, right?"

"He doesn't know the meaning of the word," David interjects.

He casts another sour glare at his partner before giving in and reaching up to press a careful amount of pressure to the spot that had been bloody upon his last encounter with the woman standing a few paces away from him. "Trying to be careful with it, yea."

She looks... dubious, her lips pressed together as a momentary frown appears. It's like she's fighting against saying something further, and he finds himself desperate to know her thoughts. Instead, she blinks and looks away from him, back in David's direction. Leaning a little on the railing at the end of the bed, she directs her comments at his partner. "I know the guys - uh - the guys here that took care of you, here. They're some of the best. You were in good hands."

Yours - he wants to say, to draw her gaze again. But doesn't. She's talking about the medical care they received here. Not what she did beforehand. He moves a little closer, also redirecting his attention - both maintaining an awareness as to where she's standing, but also pretending preoccupation at collecting David's bag.

She's clearly trying to make an exit. He should do his best to aid that action. "Right, then. Ready to go, man?"

It's as he's reaching for David's bag that he hears the distinct click of metal. It's a sound very out of place, here in the hospital room, but one he recognizes in an instant. Cuffs? Then comes the hard bite of metal on his wrist, his fingers only just coming into contact with the nylon handle of David's bag.

David has handcuffed him - them - to the bed. No, worse than that. To each other AND the bed.

He'll kill him. When he can reach him again. A quick glance at her shows her to be stuck in the stage of confusion. She'll break through that momentarily and be on the same page, right there with him in indignation and, shortly, ready to move on to problem solving.

He raises an eyebrow at his partner, only to find David positively gleeful over the situation. "Yep, I am now." David gives the pair of them a satisfied nod before making his way towards the door, calling back over his shoulder as he hobbles out of view, "I'll be in the car. Don't forget my bag."

She's starting to break through her shock. Actually, her tone makes him second guess that initial assessment. She sounds as calm as ever, just like she did when he first met her. She's been analyzing the situation this entire time. "Do you guys even still use cuffs?"

"Yea," his voice sounds a little light, and he clears his throat. "Sure. Sometimes. Mostly zip ties now, though." And then, to his surprise, he feels the light pressure of her free hand snaking around his waist band. He twists, not quite able to pull himself out of her reach as he swallows, "Um..."

"You've got the keys for these, don't you?"

Oh. "Sure. In my car."

"No. No no no no no no..." She starts shaking her head, the subsequent repetitions of the word growing softer and softer. Then she looks at him again, wide eyed. "You don't understand. I know these guys. If they find out we're stuck like this... We'll never hear the end of it. I'm never going to live this down."