The Underbosses Psychiatrist (M/M)

31 - Chapter Thirty-One - Zev Martin's Point Of View.

Jackson was nice enough to wait until I got out of the bath to give me a piece of his mind. I was super glad that his daughter was with her grandparents like she had been most of the time recently. He was pretty mad that I had gone to Creed after he had expressed he didn't like the idea.

"I hear you loud and clear Jackson, But this is not your choice it's mine."

"I told you I didn't---"

"I don't belong to you. I am my own being and I get to decide what I can and can't do, why can't you seem to understand this?"

"This isn't your world you just don't get to make sessions by yourself, you could end up dead!"

"What the fuck is the difference, Jackson? I almost ended up dead when I was in normal life. I'm actively trying to be your equal so that you don't have to worry about me being safe and you're acting like a pissy bitch. Honestly, I'm over this. Understand that you don't make my decisions for me. I'm an adult."

He didn't like my answer and he smashed the glass that was in his hand off the countertop. Sitting at the table I rested my head in my hands, I was sick of this behaviour from him. He always acted like I was a child and didn't understand his world. I really did. I was about ready to pull a Creed and drug his ass, but that wasn't very nice and I didn't condone that behaviour so it was off my list.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hand and the phone in his other hand. He was going to the clinic for stitches. I knew how this played out, this wasn't the first time. Standing up, I snagged my hoodie off the back of the chair and followed right behind him. I stopped at my office as he went to the clinic. I wanted to shove myself into work and ignore his shit. I loved the man but he was intense. 

Looking through all my papers, I set everything aside for Emerson's appointment in the afternoon and sighed. I didn't have any work I could shove myself deep into and that was disappointing. 

A knock on my door pulled me from the work I was trying to make for myself. Looking up at the door I saw the doctor. Sadly I couldn't seem to recall his actual name since I hardly even saw him around.

"Can I bug you to lend me a hand with Jackson's hand, He really did a number on it this time."

"Yes. Just give me a minute to tuck this away."

Setting my papers away, I pulled up my sleeves and followed the doctor back to his office area. Jackson was sitting in a chair with his arm and hand propped up on a table. He looked pretty bored just sitting there. He handed me the tweezers and some gauze. I wondered why he wasn't the one pulling out the glass, But it became pretty clear when his hands shook aggressively so he tucked them into his pockets. I would defiantly ask about that later when I wasn't about to pull the glass out of Jackson's hand.

Jackson hissed when I started to pull the glass out of his hand. He had really done a good job this time. His hand was a mess. I hoped the doctor wasn't about to ask me to stitch his hand. I hadn't actually stitched anything since I was in school before I switched my career path.

"Zev, Fuck slow down that shit hurts."

"Don't be a baby Jackson."

He didn't say anything else as I pulled the glass out of his hand. There was just silence. He really wasn't happy when once I had the glass all out I applied pressure with a gauze pad and he pretty much growled at me and I could hear him grinding his teeth. He was really not happy with his care. 

"Is he getting stitches or?"

"Do you remember how to give stitches?"

"Why am I the one that is giving stitches. I am not qualified to give stitches."

"You were a medical student weren't you?"

"Yes but that was years ago."

"Well. I suppose I could see if Maddox will stitch your hand Jackson, He knows how."

"Just get someone to fucking do it."

"Who stitched your hand last time?"

He pointed at the doctor and I wonder why he couldn't stitch his hand now.

"I can't stitch his hand right now. I'm pretty drunk."

Sighing I finally agreed to stitch his fucking hand. I knew I shouldn't, but someone had to in this situation. After being handed the stuff I looked at Jackson's hand and debated how to stitch his hand in the cleanest and quickest way. Once I was pretty sure I knew what I was doing I set to doing it.

The very moment the needle slid under his skin the first time he hissed before the doctor brought him a bottle of tequila and took a heavy drink of it. It was pretty impressive he got that shit down without even having to choke it down. Cleaning his hand and stitching it was a massive undertaking and after the doctor checked it over and determined it was ok I was pleased. Jackson was pretty drunk. His hand didn't look all that bad.

Covering his hand and making sure it was sealed, I helped him stand up. He was so drunk. The literal smell coming off of him was awful. I also found out he talked a lot when he was drunk on tequila. I was pretty sure he told me his life story twice in the time it took me to walk his drunk ass back to our place. 

I was still really mad at him for the shit that led up to him hurting himself in a fit of anger. He nearly fell in the doorway. I made him hold the wall so I could close the door. I walked him into the bedroom and laid him down on the bed. He didn't fight with me he just laid in the bed as I struggled to undress him.

Once I was pretty sure I had him dealt with I went to the kitchen and cleaned his mess. Getting down onto the floor had been a mistake. My sore legs really didn't like that idea.

I debated sleeping right there on the floor, but after thinking about it I crawled the couch and crawled up onto the couch. I just wanted to fall asleep and have a good twelve hours of sleep.