interpolation | patch you up

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patch you up

Patch You Upshipping meme

Let's hope you're not squeamish. Even if you are, you're going to have to power through it, because your crush, significant other, lover, or fellow practitioner in romantic tension has been battered and bruised. The degree of severity, from a minor scrape to a life-threatening injury, can vary, as can the reason - they may even be hurt because of you. If that's the case, you have all the more reason to tend to their wounds with your own two hands.

No one can take care of them like you can.

Bust out the bandages, even if they don't want you to worry over them or can't believe that anyone would. Though it's not your intention, if you're genre savvy, you may know that your best Florence Nightingale may be the final push if you're not together-together.

That's assuming if you both don't pass out from botched first aide before any of that happens. Don't forget that a kiss to make it better is critical!

Comment with your character, preferences, and the role you'd like to play - the injured or the attending. Also, would you like a pre-established relationship? One just on the cusp of becoming realized? Etc?
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[It hadn't taken as long as he expected for Toreth to actually show up. Half of him thought that he would be bleeding in the tub for a few hours while the guy decided to catch up on some beauty sleep after messing with the heads and bodies of people all day. That was tiring work and he wouldn't have held it against Toreth for staying away, though he probably would had found a reason to get back at the man.

That was just how shit worked. He'd expect the same if their positions were reversed. Of course, he mused that any call from Toreth was worth getting out of bed for because it was guaranteed to be entertaining.

He was still literally lounging in the tub when the door to his room opened and he could track the other man's progress through soft steps in the apartment. He raised an eyebrow at the not-quite-awake look and sleep-mused appearance that Toreth walked into the bathroom with, but those shrewd eyes were always watching regardless. He grinned cruelly as he smeared some blood that was dribbling down his arm. Shoulder wounds were the hardest to get to for him.]

Would you believe that I was strolling the streets admiring the architecture when I was jumped by a knife-wielding maniac?

[He sat forward and only then pulled off his sliced up shirt. There was a deep seeping injury just under his arm and at a sharp angle down his ribs, one down the left shoulder blade and one long one along the entire small of his back.]

I can't reach these little bastards, so I hope you've got sewing skills because I'm going to need them.

[ Toreth finally uttered some choice expletives when the shirt came off, both at the injuries -- Christ, they'd be a pain in the fucking ass to take care of -- and the fact that it hadn't occurred to him, in his half-conscious state, to bring along a bottle of spirits for the little venture. Well, this was going to hurt a lot more without hard spirits to enjoy, although Rumlow being in the bathtub meant he could easily flush the wound out with copious amounts of water. Infection shouldn't be a huge problem. Hopefully.

Even though Toreth had only pulled on the black cotton tee what felt like only moments earlier, he was pulling it off again, not keen on getting his clothes messy with blood if he could help it. Blood was hard to get out, and even if the tee was black, you could just fucking tell where it stained if you were in the right light. The coagulated blood stiffened the cotton, too. A bloody inconvenience all around, literally. ]

Might have believed it if you left out the bit about the architecture. [ That was said fairly casually as he glanced around the bathroom, looking to see what he had to work with while Rumlow continued. ]

Where's the kit?

[He finally stood now that it seemed like things were about to get productive and interesting, and it was pretty much a regular HYDRA slumber party at this point. Everyone was taking off their shirts there too, though generally to admire the bruising given to each other earlier in the day. He was the one who was a mess and Toreth was all clean and pristine, which seemed ironic given what he knew the guy did for a living.

He toed off his boots to the side and seated himself on the edge of the tub where the light was best and he still wouldn't make too much of a mess. He had a feeling this was going to be a fun midnight past time.]

Bedside table, bottom drawer. [His clothes were a complete write off, but he wiped at them with a blood-stained hand all the same as if he could just brush off the hardening blood in the material.] I don't think your skills will be necessary on the other guy, if that makes you feel better.

[ Easily: ] Wasn't going to ask. In fact, less I know, the less I have to lie for you if it comes to it. And I'm not inclined to lie if it's going to be my head on the chopping block.

[ Toreth didn't give Rumlow a second glance, moving to the bedside drawer to find what he needed. It was exactly where Rumlow had specified, and so it wasn't long before Toreth was back in the bathroom, setting the kit down on the counter and opening it. I&I had great first aid care, but being in the whole profession, coupled with his time in the retraining facility and his past proclivities for bar fights, meant that Toreth was fairly dexterous when it came to sewing up cuts and treating sprained joints. He knew what was needed to at least help stabilise a person, too. Tourniquets and the like. ]

You're going to have to wash all that shit off. [ The blood, some of it probably beginning to crust over. Toreth said it as a calm suggestion more than anything. ] Think you can manage that yourself while I do this?

[ Do this being fiddle with the thread and needle and rummaging through the kit for scissors. He was at least waking up completely now, the only signs of his interrupted sleep being the stubble on his face and the eyes that still responded a little poorly when he glanced up too quickly at the light. ]

Yeah, you best distance yourself after this, since I might have earned a little punishment on this one.

[He was perfectly fine with that, since it would at least be as entertaining as it was probably going to be humiliating. He wasn't about to drag people he was on an 'okay' basis into his messes either, not when they were about to stitch him back up in his own bathroom. That just seemed like a piss poor kind of 'thank you', though he expected that he would owe Toreth something. Payment had yet to be specified.]

I think I can handle, but you'll have to turn your back. I'm really shy about people seeing me naked. [He was already unbuckling his pants as he said such, which meant he wasn't shy at all and perfectly willing to hose himself off right there in the shower. He stood after dumping his trousers next to his boots and stepped back into the tub to hose off with cold water, rubbing the drying blood and revealing the clean edges of the injuries that he bore.

He kept his back to the wall for the most part, but he knew it was impossible to hide the very old white criss-crossed lines that ran the entire length of his back from shoulders to the end of his tailbone. He figured Toreth wouldn't ask, so he didn't care that much despite keeping them to himself for the most part.

Still dripping wet, he seated himself on the edge of the tub and grabbed his ruined shirt to dab at the newly seeping blood down his skin.] Am I going to live, Doc?

[ It was hardly surprising that Rumlow's body was decorated with scars of old, and the small glimpses that Toreth caught of them had him noting that they were impressive. He wondered, briefly, on the specifics. How it had been done. Whether Rumlow had screamed at the time, or whether he had grit his teeth and took it. Toreth's skills in judging character meant he was leaning towards the latter, but pain did funny things to people. It changed them, broke them down until even they couldn't recognise themselves. That was the whole point, and everyone reached that stage sooner or later. You just needed to apply enough pressure, hopefully enough while not killing.

Toreth spared Rumlow's body about half a second's glance. Long enough to appreciatively note his musculature, but not long enough to be distracted or lewd about it. While he certainly had a nice body, that wasn't really the point right now, and while Toreth liked inflicting pain and he didn't mind a bit of blood, he would be more than alright with not fucking people until their wounds reopened and they bled all over him.

He went ahead with the needle and thread, measuring out an excess before snipping it off with the scissors. ]

[ Dryly: ] Only if you be a very fucking good patient. [ He turned, approaching Rumlow, still making no comment on the state of his back, eyeing the fresh wounds only. ] If you squirm and I jab you in the wrong spot, it's not my problem.

[He figured that most of Toreth's investigation would be some kind of professional curiosity, and he was perfectly comfortable in his own skin. He just didn't particularly want to talk about it, and people had a habit of asking for stories behind things in an attempt to get to know him. He wasn't interested. He had his own objectives, and he stuck to those. There was no need to get touchy feel-y about anything, least of all when there was a mission to complete.

There was a surety with Toreth's hands, something that imbued confidence into him that this would be done right and with minimal fussing. In fact, they both might like it. Who knows when they were together; they had been pretty good about hurting each other whenever they met up.]

I won't squirm. [He set his hands on the side of the tub and straightened, but the muscles of his shoulders tightened in preparation.] Try not to get a boner doing this, okay?

[ Toreth rolled his eyes at the remark, eyeing one of the larger wounds and deciding to start with that first. He took the needle and, without much hesitation, jabbed it through the sliver of skin, perhaps harder than was really required. That's what you got for making smartass fucking remarks. That was the only unnecessary force he used, though, going ahead and threading the needle through the open wound to the other flap of skin quite properly after that. Easy, methodical work. He was good at that. Had to be, with all the hours he had spent with uncooperative prisoners, using the same techniques, over and over again, with increasing levels of pain. ]

Speak for yourself.

[A muscle in his cheek jumped at the jabbing, but he remained perfectly still otherwise. Toreth was doing him a favour, so he let the roughness slide and actually did his best not to enjoy the slide and tug of flesh being drawn together with the needle and thread. His breathing was even and despite the flares of pain, his eyes half closed.]

I'll do my best, but I make no guarantees. A little pain goes a long way.

You're a sick fucker, aren't you?

[ Despite the words, it was said without much malice. Toreth hummed thoughtfully, mostly at how still Rumlow was. He didn't do this often, but he was used to people squirming, or at least shaking, under his hands, both during torturing and fucking. To have someone remain still was a refreshing change. ]

You can jerk yourself off if you get a hard-on.

[ He was halfway through done with the larger wound, his fingers steadily becoming smeared with Rumlow's blood from the application of the stitches. ]

No, aside from my injuries, I'm in perfect health.

[On the mental scale, there may be a few things that didn't fit quite right, but he wasn't about to admit that. He had passed all of his psychological exams after all in order to join SHIELD in the capacity that he had. Still, that had to count for something right?

The prick, pull and tie of suture was a rhythmic motion, something he could count on. Toreth was good at this, had clearly done this before, so they were all veterans to this activity even if he tried not to enjoy it too much. He chuckled softly at the reply though.]

You're the worst fake-doctor ever, you know that? You're supposed to take care of all of my aches, pains, lumps and bumps, you know.

[ He rolled his eyes. Sarcasm from this asshole was going to be the fucking death of him. A few more sharp pricks and tugs on skin and he was knotting the thread tightly, reaching for the scissors to snip off the excess. One of many wounds down, and Christ, couldn't Rumlow be more fucking considerate about how injured he got? A ridiculous thing to think, but Toreth was thinking it all the same as he looked for the next one to start one. Some were too shallow to even bother with. Those would heal fine on their own, no assistance required. ]

You telling me you have doctor-patient fantasies? People usually go for the nurse ones at least. It's a little hotter.

[He was far too used to having this happen, and at least the company was pleasant given he normally did this himself. He would have too, but you know... hard to reach places made suturing very awkward, and he wasn't about to mess things up and risk bleeding all over the place. He shifted to give easy access to another injury, one he knew would require a little extra attention.]

Nah, I just like it when people hurt me to fix me. Though, I won't complain if you want to go and get into a nurse's outfit for this.

[ Toreth laughed -- a short, sharp bark of derision as his hands began their work on the proffered wound. Systematic. ]

Fuck off. Only way that's happening is if you fucking forced me, and after that the only way you'd enjoy it is if you came out on top. Odds are I'd be fucking you if you'd like to go down that road. [ He paused, bantering more than seriously considering it for the moment. ] Like to?

[He closed his eyes to just concentrate on the work that Toreth was doing, enjoying the feel of it. Few had that kind of skill who weren't medical professionals or soldiers.]

As if. I could still take you in a fight like this. [He wasn't planning on fighting Toreth, but he had his pride and it wasn't going anywhere. Though how worth it would it be to get the other guy in a dress?] As if. Keep sewing me together.

Fucking bollocks you could. [ There was a cool confidence in the way he said that, even though they had been relatively closely matched in their previous tussles (with Rumlow generally having the upper hand). The confidence wasn't just because the other man was injured -- Toreth was sure Rumlow could still put up more than a fair fucking fight -- but it was his own self-assurance as to their dynamic.

Toreth grit his teeth slightly when he jabbed the needle a little too far in, fingers slipping from the blood on them, the needle going in at the wrong angle. ]

Fucking Christ, sorry.

Bollocks? Really? Really? [If he wasn't concerned about opening the wounds that had stopped bleeding all over the place because he was still, he probably would have laughed or whipped around to make certain that this wise-guy was actually being serious in using that word. He was going to have to get the guy a top hat and a cane soon enough.

He also was confident he could cheat and cheap-shot his way to victory, but not without injury to himself. It'd be a wild ride no doubt.

He hissed at the sudden flare of pain, twisting aside from the needle and baring his teeth.] Are you drunk or sleeping? I'm injured enough without your contribution, thanks.

[ Toreth felt maybe... five percent of sympathy. His fault, but not like he'd admit it any more than the hissed apology he'd uttered. Carefully, in his best imitation of the scum of London as he could muster (it wasn't much of an imitation, because he had hung out with the sort often enough, had somewhat been the sort): ]

That's what you get for trying to having a fucking laugh, innit? [ He scoffed, then, ignoring Rumlow's flare of temper, his words returning to a less exaggerated British accent as he pulled his hands back, patiently waiting for the other man to be done with his snapping. ]

Fucking Americans. [ Pause. ] You know, where I come from, it's illegal to fuck other men in America.

[He pretended to glare and investigate the seriousness of Toreth's little stab-happy moment there. It was really no worse than he already bore, and aside from bleeding and probably bruising to hell and back, it required no more medical attention.]

You're just a little butthurt about coming here or something. [He remarked but shrugged his shoulders and went back to being relatively passive. He still needed to be stitched up after all and most of them weren't exactly in easy to reach spots.

It was his turn to bark a laugh though.] Yeah because making it illegal will stop the Americans from fucking each other. They just find ways. It's human nature. In the America I'm from, they're trying to legalize marriage for everyone.

[ Seeing the line of muscles in Rumlow's back relaxing, he went back to his task, a little more precisely and carefully this time, mindful of the slippery blood on his fingertips.

The mention of marriage made Toreth's lips twist in an amused smile. ]

Really? Never understood the idea of marriage myself. [ He was apparently a little more candid at this hour, defenses slightly down from being rudely awoken. Less of a filter on him, more brutally honest. ] Spending the rest of your life with somebody sounds fucking awful.

[He gritted his teeth at the poke and drag of needle and thread through his flesh, but he held his peace on the matter. It had to be done and it wasn't like Toreth was a complete ass about the whole thing considering he had gotten the guy out of bed in the middle of the night.

He hummed at the topic of conversation. Now this was something that they could agree upon. He liked things quick and dirty and without any complications and as few emotions as he could manage.]

It's a waste of time and money. You spend how much for a piece of paper to say you're living with someone and will kick them out in a few years anyway? May as well throw it in a fire. [He turned his head a little.] Do you have commitment issues?

[ He had been agreeing with what Rumlow had been saying, up until the sudden question, and well, that was just fucking rude. If they had been facing each other properly, Toreth might've stared impassively at the other man. As it was, he just stared at the work his fingers were doing. ]

Being practical is hardly having 'commitment issues'. Who wants to fuck just one person for the rest of their life, anyway?

Depends how good they are to fuck, I guess. If they've got continually evolving skills, that would be plenty of excitement for the long-haul.

[Besides, people weren't getting married for sex. They were getting married under the pretense that there was some deep connection that warranted announcing to the world that they weren't supposed to cheat and shit. It was laughable. People were under some pretty stupid illusions about commitment.]

Do you date people or just screw them?

[ That hits a little too close to home, and so maybe Toreth overcompensates a little with this next bit. ]

Christ, who the fuck do you think I am? Just screw. Wining and dining only if absolutely necessary or if it's a good free meal.

Don't tell me you fucking date people. Hardly seem the type.

Oh, you are all class, I can see that.

[Men like Toreth and him weren't in this for connection. There might be a faint connection between allies for a similar cause, but he was not interested in getting up close and personal with many people. If he did, it was short-term to blow off some steam.]

Only when it's a mission objective. But I don't mind fuck buddies. I do like evolving skills after all.

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triarchic - 2015-07-08 03:39 (UTC) - Expand

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infligere - 2015-07-08 23:31 (UTC) - Expand

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patch you up

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WB!!!!

thank you!!!! and sorry!! i'm really glad you replied!! c:

<3

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