𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝙸𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚁𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

|𝟟| ℙ𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕤

Trigger warnings: Blood, injuries, swearing 

Also bomber jacket bbh!! Not a warning I just love the idea :D 

    George was put in charge of training Darryl. Philip seemed to think there was no one better fitted for the job, and somehow, despite the fact George had held him at knifepoint while fighting a hero, the two made quick friends. Darryl was naively happy, and George was slightly concerned over this, but a stern gaze from Philip made him drop the topic before he even brought it up. 

   "So, in combat, you need quick thinking above anything else. Technique. Predict where they'll move, and hit before that. First we're gonna need to work on your reflexes, they are, no offence, shit." 

    "Language." Darryl chided, adjusting the black bomber jacket Maia had offered him. She, for an unknown reason, had been insistent on dressing him. Maybe she had just wanted to know what he would look like in ripped jeans? Either way, they weren't the greatest for fighting, and Darryl was having a rough enough time already. 

   "Can I get you some, like, other clothes?" He shook his head, politely declining. Darryl was so easy to read (they would need to work on that), anyone could tell he was more nervous than a lamb plopped in the middle of a lion den. 

    "No thanks. Let's just do this, I guess." George nodded. There was no point in wasting any more time, their plan had to be done by next Thursday. Darryl had to be able to defend himself and keep his connections to Necro-Sin a secret by next Thursday. 

    So they trained. 

   "Ow—" Darryl thudded on the ground, having been struck in the gut (courtesy of George). They had been sparring, no powers, for an hour and a half now, and Darryl was finding that he was not built for this. He was slow, and not that strong, plus his leg had started throbbing but he was too shy to mention it. George had barely even broken a sweat, teaching him all of the basics at an extremely slow pace, then absolutely destroying him when they attempted to fight. 

    "You okay? Need a break, or ice for your leg or something?" He held out a hand for Darryl to take, and easily pulled him back to his feet. Darryl sighed, but nodded. His leg did hurt a lot. A break couldn't be too bad, right? "Go to Tubbo, he'll fix you up. He's in the tech room." 

♥*♡∞:｡.｡　　｡.｡:∞♡*♥ 

     Darryl was met with a surprise when he went through the bead door. The person sitting inside couldn't have been older than his teens, he was short, and looked really young (no offence to him, of course). Tubbo. So that's who the hacker/healer was. Tubbo either didn't notice him, or didn't felt the need to acknowledge his presence. It was clear it was not the later when he almost jumped out his chair when Darryl tapped his shoulder. 

    "Ah!— hello?" Tubbo pulled out his earphones, clicking off of whatever coding program he was on. 

    "Sorry for scaring you! Uh, you're the healer, right?" Darryl asked, preparing to apologize for being a bother. The boy brightened before he could start. 

   "Yup! You must be Good's brother, right? That's cool! What can I help with?" He was rambling like an excited kid. Darryl smiled warmly. Tubbo reminded him of the children he worked with for his job, and it made him feel more at ease. 

   "I— well, I got a cut from a knife, and it hasn't healed yet." Tubbo's eyes flashed with realization. He lowered his head, ashamed. 

    He must've been involved with George fighting A6d and Skeppy. 

    "Sorry about that..." He mumbled out, still averting his gaze from Darryl's as he busied himself taking off the cast the hospital had put on. How he managed to break it off, we'll never know. 

    "How do you— oh!" Darryl's question about how he healed flesh wounds was answered when Tubbo quietly started humming to himself, closing his eyes in concentration, and put on hand on the scratch. Warm energy pulsed from his touch, like hundreds of fiery butterflies exploding in his leg. Tiny droplets of blood slipped down. It wasn't quite painful— just on the brink, not enough to make you admit it's uncomfortable, but enough to make you want it to stop. 

     The cut began to close, skin stitching itself back together. The drips of blood disappeared, in their place, small red poppies sprouted and bloomed. Darryl gasped happily, fingers brushing the delicate petals, as Tubbo withdrew his hand and reopened his eyes. The warm feeling faded. 

    "That's.. Amazing." He was honestly in awe of the teenager's power. Such a useful and beautiful gift— and he was using it for good, which just made it better. The flowers stopped growing, falling off his skin neatly, making a small pile that Tubbo picked up. The teen was blushing, embarrassed by the praise. 

     "... Thank you. It should be good as new in a couple of hours, so try to not push yourself too hard, 'kay?" Darryl nodded. He was done with fighting today anyways. "See you around!" 

     "Bye!" 

͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙　　.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙. 

     Four days later, George could say with pride that Darryl had tripled his reaction time, stamina, and control. Darryl was basically a new person, he had packed a lean amount of muscle, stopped tripping over his own feet, and he could hold his own in a fight for around ten minutes. It was amazing how much he had improved. 

      "You had a good teacher." Sapnap leaned on George, flaunting him being an inch taller. George rolled his eyes, but he didn't try to deny it, either. Darryl had picked up some of the relationships  in the group, Tubbo talked to Philip and Sapnap like a younger brother would (but not annoying), Maia and Philip would play chess and poker a lot, and Techno tended to stay away from Darryl. Why, he couldn't figure out. He also never spoke around him. Sapnap would low-key flirt with George, George would get semi flustered, then ignore him. They were all close friends, it was like they knew each other so well they didn't even had to try to talk, the conversations rolled as fluently as a paper boat floating down stream, so comfortable with one other they could cuddle on the couch while working without anyone giving a second glance. 

     "Thank you for teaching me how to fight, George." Some words Darryl never thought he would hear, much less be the one saying them. George smiled at him. 

     "Of course. You're one of us now, you need to be able to defend yourself." Darryl felt better, hearing 'one of us'. He nodded. The plan would happen tomorrow, and everything was set in place. 

     Now all they had to do was wait for one more night.