Collection TSV - One Shots

Red Carnation Part 7 (NSFW)

Crosspost from Ao3

Chapter 7 Act 6

He had been lucky.

That was the only thought that reigned as he stared up at the ceiling of their bedroom; the chances that a trained killer would have missed their shot was low, and it was arguably a miracle that everything had gone as smoothly afterwards as it did. Eddy wasn't sure what had happened in the minutes after he had blacked out - Brett refused to talk about it, and he didn't have the chance to see any of the other killers in the past few hours - or days for that matter - leaving him in the dark and, if he had to be honest, rather dazed at the events.

But he was alive. Did anything really matter otherwise?

His eyes were still groggy, as he had just woken up a few minutes ago - in the late afternoon, it seemed, as Brett was nowhere to be seen. He rubbed them gently before struggling to sit up, the bandaged wound on his back flaring at the motion. Legs crossed and eyes still attempting to blink away the haze, he jerked his head toward the door at the sound of locks turning and the wheelchair creaking against the wooden floor.

Brett rolled in, clad in crimson and with the smell of metal. He looked at Eddy and instantly noticed he was awake. Well, that was not very hard to decode when the person was sitting instead of laying on the bed.

"Lay down Eddy."

The older hitman rolled into the room, leaving the door open. He wished Eddy would sleep some more, then he could have had the chance to shower and change into much more cleaner clothes. But it was what it was and Brett wheeled to Eddy, looking at the man. His lips were pressed thinly together and Brett's eyes were cold - it took awhile for him to calm down when he came back from the basement.

"Lay down, I say. How are you feeling?"

Eddy did, first and foremost; he sank back down on the bed and felt relief wash over his limbs at the break that he was giving his back. He wasn't necessarily a fan of succumbing to any sort of pain, having been used to fighting it off and pushing onwards, a habit ingrained into him by every mentor he had - but especially Brett. However, at this moment, he wasn't sure if he cared at this point, much less Brett.

He could hear the lingering traces of harshness in Brett's voice. While Eddy had an idea of what exactly Brett was doing outside of the apartment (he didn't just have an idea, he more than definitely knew what was happening), he was never going to acknowledge it explicitly - only through constant obedience and unyielding respect.

"Not bad, actually." A slight chuckle to convince Brett that he was fine, to get him to stop worrying for a brief second. Perhaps not bad weren't the best words to describe the flickers and flares of pain every time he moved, but Eddy would say anything to calm Brett down. "Thought it would hurt more than this, but I'm surprised at how it almost feels like nothing happened."

Brett shot him a dark look and wheeled towards him. "Don't make me hit you. Nothing is fine and you don't look like one who can pull off a' not bad'. I want to hear the truth, Eddy."

He took his partner's hand and kissed the knuckles, like he often did. But the kiss was different. It had a different meaning now. At least for Brett.

"It still will take weeks for you to heal completely. So don't try to ease my fears. I talked to the doctors as well." The wheelchair bound killer leant forward and kissed Eddy's cheek. Brett had a very direct conversation with himself. It opened up a few more eyes and doors, which he purposefully ignored beforehand. He had no such luxury anymore. He loved Eddy, that much was clear. But how to tell him was the question. And should he even tell him? His retraining didn't cover that. What if he told him and Eddy would turn on him? It would break and kill him. Figuratively and literally.