Reclining in his swaddle of blankets and pillows, the tall blond man watched with bleary eyes as the team returned from the streets. Rain drenched uniforms, mat black weapons, everything was piled into the corners and discarded as time permitted, as Medic growled out orders and a familiar face was maneuvered into a bed next to his and the extra hands were banished to the kitchen.
Within minutes the man was stripped completely bare, hooked up to the monitors and put under. It was another half an hour for a single bullet to be removed and the hole stitched closed.
When the action finally settled, Medic turned his focus on him.
“I heard you talking,” the short man accused.
The blond shrugged.
“No more of that or else I’m keeping you sedated until your lungs clear.”
Christoph grimaced and nodded.
Despite all his actions of acquiescence, the doctor still scowled darkly and stalked quietly out of the room. The chemist sighed. You just couldn’t please some people.
There was another short, stocky, and angry growl outside the door and then a muttered command. Then a very familiar brunette came through the door.
Arana was smirking faintly, glancing at her companion, who looked annoyed as he carried a couple of bags while she just hefted a duffle. “It’s special,” she was saying, and then she caught sight of Christoph and perked visibly. “Angel-face!”
He’d apparently been upgraded from ‘kiddo’.
Svorak choked on a laugh, desperately trying to keep silent in respect for the resting Dari. Christoph looked like the words were just piling up behind his teeth, but there was a radio locked on his throat, channeled straight to Medic.
The blond settled for a smile and a wave.
She set her duffle down and went over, giving him a gentle hug. “I heard you were sick. Normally, I’d offer my special herbal tea, but… Dari told me that if I fed it to a sick person ever again, he’d ban me from kitchen use.” She smiled sheepishly, and then let her gaze trail over to the dark-haired Arab on the next bed. The smile faded. “Um, be right back…”
Rolling his eyes, Christoph grinned and gently pushed her over to the other patient.
“Concentrate on Dari, Lady,” the ex-military man said. “I’ll deal with Blondie.”
They both watched as she drifted over to the other bed, and then Christoph raised an eyebrow at his partner. Pulling out a cell phone, he tapped out a message, “Sick?”
The only standing merc shrugged slightly. Taking the phone his lover, he replaced the message with his own, “You wanna tell her you breathed in your own cooking?”
Christoph grimaced and wiped the message. “Lab work is always tricky.”
“That’s why the safety gear, idiot.”
A dark hand closed over his own pale ones and squeezed. Svorak leaned close and murmured, “But no more running.”
Christoph tilted his head to give his partner a patient look. “Worse case scenario,” he texted and turned the cell to face blue eyes.
Arana stared at the sleeping Arabian assassin, smiling faintly. He was the lucky one, wasn’t he? Her Dari always had been pretty lucky… “We can’t stay for long,” she murmured, just loud enough for Christoph and Svorak to hear. “Or rather… I can’t. Can you watch over him ‘till he’s able to go on? I’ll wait till he’s conscious again, but….” She shook her head.
Two sets of eyes, blue and honey-brown gazed at her. Christoph nodded, tilting and resting his head against his partners as Svorak answered for them both. “No one will hold you here,” he said with a smile. “Never was part of the plan. Though,” he paused, “drinking was.”
Long fingers tapped out a message and the blond nudged the merc who looked down. “Come back for Dari,” he read out loud, “or he’ll just look for you.”
She chuckled. “He always looks for me. Why do you think he was there?” she asked, meaning the store before, when she was with Christoph the last time. “I’ll come back for him.” But she didn’t even try to hide the fact that it was a lie.
The two men traded glances. One partner nudged the other who sighed and walked over to the bags. “Do you want to sleep here or in another room with us guys?” Svorak asked and gestured to the empty bed on the other side of the Arab. “As if I really need to ask.”
“I’ll stay here,” she said. She didn’t say ‘sleep’, in a very pointed manner, but then she knew that they’d probably noticed her lack of it.
Christoph grinned and Svorak grumbled, tossing a coin towards the blond. “Yeah yeah. Ass.” He pulled the bags over to the spare bed before walking around it to open another door. “You get a washroom here, even got a tub.”
“Main meals will be announced, but you aren’t required to show,” he shrugged at her expression. “Having Medic around kinda means everyone is force-fed proper diet. The men aren’t allowed to skimp on nutrients; however you’ve got a free pass since you’re not under his jurisdiction,” he explained rolling his eyes. “In the next couple of days all of us are going to be gone. Medic too. He’s calling in a secondary to watch over the invalids though, so you’ll have company in a fashion.”
There was a small delicate cough from the bed and the merc snorted. “You’re running silent,” he told his lover. “Even when the secondary is here. Medic’s orders.”
“I have duct tape,” Arana offered with a wicked look cast in the blond’s direction.
Honey-brown eyes widened in hurt and betrayal, until they narrowed at the huffing wheezing laugh from the merc. With wicked accuracy, the chemist whipped the coin back at Svorak.
“Hoy!” the man yelped, dodging as the projectile pinged off the doorway where his head used to be.
The two men glared at each other.
And then the bedroom door opened.
A brown hairy arm pointed at Svorak and then crooked with silent animosity.
“Aww, fuck,” the merc muttered, obeying and walking out of the room, but not before throwing a baleful look at his blond lover, who was smirking.
Arana chuckled, but was otherwise quiet, and went back to watching Dari’s sleeping face.
Long, slender fingers ran quickly along the keys beneath them, the music that came as a result sweet and sad. Deep blue eyes were narrowed in concentration, but not so much that she didn’t notice the figure coming in behind her.
“You almost done?” a soft voice asked, the redhead taking a seat beside her. Despite her question, she launched into playing as well, making the solo a duet, and the two remained there for some time longer.
Finally, though, the redhead finished off and dropped her hands into her lap, and the blonde played a few keys more before stopping as well. She reached up, and slid the cover down over the keys, sitting back. She smiled. “It’s been so long!” she chirped, turning to look at the woman with her, Amaya.
“Glad you enjoyed it. We should go soon. Not long until we have the job,” Amaya told her.
The blonde nodded and got to her feet, long curls fluttering slightly. “Mmhm. Yes. Let’s go.”
Black eyes flicked over the blonde’s attire. “Lucy.” When the younger girl stopped and turned, Amaya quirked a brow. “Let’s try leggings and a shirt, not a dress.”
Lucy beamed. “Dresses suit me!” she replied, but would eventually agree. She could never tell the ginger no.