Burnt Out {A Hero!AU Sheith Fanfiction}

Relax, Breathe

"Does it hurt?"

Shiro shook his head.

"It looks like it hurts, Shiro," Matt murmured, his voice low and quiet as he wrapped Shiro's burn wounds.

They were on Shiro's sofa, Shiro turned to the side so his legs were over Matt's lap, in nothing but boxers and a white tank top. Matt had a first aid kit beside him, and soft, cottony gauze in his hand as he treated the pinkish skin of Shiro's calves and his right thigh. His touches weren't awkward or in anyway more than a friendly or even concerned intimacy — they had been in more awkward situations before, for sure. Shiro's second line of work didn't come without its awkward stories.

Shiro rolled his eyes and sighed a little, reaching a tired arm up to rub the back of his neck. "Doesn't matter," he grumbled. He wasn't really one for talking after nights like that. "I'm fine."

Matt looked up at Shiro, his eyes narrowed behind his wire framed glasses. He stopped wrapping Shiro's leg and leaned up a bit, sighing as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Shiro," he said, his voice heavy with judging. "I was gonna save this speech until after you were patched up, but here we go." Matt paused and lifted his hand.

"Rich lady wasn't your fault," he started, flicking out a finger as though he was counting off on his hands. "Rich lady's house wasn't your fault. Rich lady's dog wasn't your fault. You-Know-Who getting away wasn't your fault. The train most definitely wasn't your fault." Each sentence was marked with another finger.

Shiro watched him through a rather skeptical gaze. "It was a distraction for me. And I'm the one who derailed the train," he said. "Everyone who got hurt are all hurt because of me."

"If you didn't, the train would have slammed into one of the busiest places in the city," Matt argued. "If you didn't do what you did, then people would have died."

There was a sharp huff from Shiro. "I could have found another way. A train crash is still a train crash and I still caused it," he muttered.

"But you didn't!" Matt urged, leaning forwards. He placed his hand on Shiro's shoulder, and held it tight. "That was all You-Know-Who and his fucking squad of freaks. Please, Takashi, don't blame yourself for this. I know you've got a thick head, but you're not that dumb."

Shiro managed a twitch of a smile. Matt only let himself get serious for little patches at a time. One moment he was deep tones and serious eyes and going by a first name basis, and then the next he was calling Shiro thick-skulled. It was endearing, he supposed. Didn't make him feel like he was being pitied -- Shiro liked that.

"I'll try," Shiro said, reaching a hand up to rub his temple. He didn't know if it was hurting from the blows he'd gotten from Keith or from the train... judging by the fact nearly all of the train incident had been a bit blurry anyways he figured it was when he managed to derail it.

Matt nodded, and went back to Shiro's leg. "Good, you doofus," he said, shaking his head.

He finished up treating Shiro's wounds, and pushed Shiro's legs off of him with a grunt. Shiro turned around, leaning into the cushioned backrest with a sigh, still massaging his right temple. The lights were dimmed, and the television played quietly from its side of the room -- Shiro had turned it on the news so he could watch for the fatality count, but before Matt even began to sit down and patch up Shiro's leg, he had changed it to some reality TV show. Shiro liked the white noise against the ringing of his ears, the clanging of metal and shrieking of train wheels on cement still fresh in his head, making his hearing buzz.

That in a comfortable silence for a few more moments, Shiro studying his prosthetic in the quiet. Atlas has taken the liberty of curling up by Shiro's feet. Black was nowhere to be found — likely hiding somewhere in the suite due to Matt's presence. The only friend she ever liked was Keith.