sirenspull_logs | late night date

Entry tags:

late night date

Who: judge (

iudex), jury (

littlest_lord) and executioner (

psychopath)
When: oct 15th, wee hours of morning
Where: all over the port right up into Phantomhive manor
Summary: A romantic walk in the Port! Featuring gross flesh wounds and broken curfews. (Oswald goes to pick Jack up for being truant, horrible things ensue.)
Warnings: said gross flesh wounds. Cursing. Gratuitous angst. Possibility of pie gallows.

[jack, all in all, was having a fairly good day. Enjolras was in AGI's hands, he still had til sunrise to sneak back into Phantomhive manor, and hey, no amount of Chain-induced weakness would bring his mood down.

Instead it does, and he's lying on his back on some sidewalk in the middle of Sector 4. His motorcycle's parked across the street, and so is his helmet; Jack's just preoccupied with catching his breath because holy shit, using B. Rabbit was an endeavor in endurance. He couldn't remember it being this hard to use him.

Belatedly, he thinks, he should check up on Oz later. But for now, he'll just lie down on cobblestone at one in the morning and watch the stars. Hopefully he has at least five minutes before any sort of monster approaches (again).]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[nope, absolutely not handing out free will today too buttmad STUPID HUMANS STUPID JACK STUPID NIGHT!!]

And you call me a prat. [INTERNAL ANGRY GRUMBLING AS HE TIES.]

It's just a scratch, silly, it doesn't matter. You're more injured than I am, thusly- prat.

[But the pie and the-- stickiness, and Jack lets out a breath as he reclaims his arm long enough to remove his shirt. It's gross and it's bleeding angrily because Jack is an idiot; it absolutely needs stitches.

Jack looks very unconcerned about this and tries tugging his arm back GIVE IT BACK IT'S FINE COME ON. To be honest, at this point, he's more concerned about getting himself unsticky enough so that Oswald can be properly tended to.]

I'll- take care of it before I clean the kitchen, all right? Let me go-

[He's fascinated, really, wow, why is Oswald so angry, he was the one who had a gazillion wounds! Jack should be pissed at him, not the other way around.]

I heal and you do not - [do we have to go through this again really?? he's making grabby hands for jack's other hand already, moving it over the towel and jack can shut up really.

jack's yandere vision makes - well, a few (... right. he's healing shut up) into a gazillion and oswald easily forgets the pain, jack's shirtlessness, and that fatigue for this. a scratch it may be in jack's head, but oswald's so caught up in what to do next that he just doesn't compute it to that.]

Apply pressure to it- no, that's not all right and I'll absolutely not let you go, Jack. [if oswald could sneer, that would almost be it right there. he only barely manages to calm his shit before he snaps his head up and ends up probably nosebumping jack again. too close, too close, too close for his anger to keep up- gosh.

breathe.

right. (he thinks he has jack's blood on his hands and he really doesn't want to think about that.) stitches, he needs thread–]

Where can I find thread? [–ah!] —a needle as well.

[y u p sure is thinking of stitching jack up. :T]

I'll not bleed out.

[Jack startles when Oswald looks up, and he quickly looks down at his arm and dutifully presses the towel against it. It's not an artery; he'll live, and he wants to tell Oswald this, but the other man looks so...intent on patching him up and Jack realises that he likes it.

Oswald cares and is his best friend and he's- tending to Jack even when he's injured, himself, and it makes his chest ache. Jack breathes out.]

Drawers over there, I think? [Every bathroom here has a first-aid kit underneath the mirror, drawers under the sink and the countertop.]

Hey, maybe you can cross-stitch me. [He quirks, half-smile in an attempt to lighten the situation up.]

[jack is lucky he has a hold on that towel or oswald would have snapped it back and squeezed it around jack's wound until it really hurt so that he would see the severity of the situation. ....except no he wouldn't have, but it's a very tempting thought. very, very tempting, but he opts for a glare and to stop thinking about violent things.

he is not violent and jack's already hurt (and suicidal, as he's heard, and that puts a cap on his anger and shuts it off).

there's no need to make it worse, and he tells himself this as he shuffles about to snatch what he needs from the drawers and set it- somewhere, oswald doesn't care as long as it's within reach.

a pause. he has the thread and the needle and- and there's not enough time to boil it is.. there.... shit he didn't hesitate to knock jack out, but when it comes to asking jack to pinch the injured skin together so that he can stitch it up... setting a hand over jack's on the towel. he's steady, but -]

...do you want it to hurt more than it already will? [bland, unimpressed, and worried above all else.]

[jack's already holding the edges of the wound together, blinking up at him through watery eyes because, it stings. It hurts, actually, now that Oswald's said it, and he sighs out.]

Why are you even asking? Goodness.

[he smiles at the bathroom tile. It's a pleasant thought that Oswald could theoretically make him pay for his sins, here in the port; whatever pain the man would give him, jack would take it and cherish it. Perhaps it could be the only thing that is his.]

Just do it. It's just me.

[oswald doesn't shake; watery eyes embed themselves into his memory, and he doesn't whine or shake not even on the inside where everything is cobwebs of emotion and the memories of glen baskerville. he's too old for things like this now, but he still feels the pinpricks of despair crawling over his skin and -

he has to shut this down and reboot on safety mode. this is ridiculous, but he does so hate seeing jack in pain longer than he has to be.

'it's just me.']

[—oh. oh, because that makes it any better?

it's all grit and ground when he frowns.] -that's all that matters to me. [but he finally, steadily, presses the needle through skin - rinse and repeat, his stomach tosses and turns - and he hates this he hates this hehatesthis hehatesthis--]

Just you.

[here, where he's able to say that and have it be complete and utter truth.]

[he flinches and flinches and clenches a hand on Oswald's shoulder; getting stitches is not a fun thing, but if it's Oswald who does it then it's fine.]

You're silly.

[he's dreamt of oswald's hair, many times, of the top of his head. Of his hands. They're as frequent as the ones that have lacie in it; but not all of them are nightmares. He can't comprehend how the other man can say something so-

Silly.]

Y'know, you deserve someone better. [he says it matter-of-factly. w e l l it's not like he's letting oswald go though.] Also, you already smell of blood.

[he's sorry and sorry some more, but it must be done and he can't wait to finish and be done with this so that he can curl up and maybe die. dying sounds like a grand idea right now. it's such a lovely night.

he'd scowl if he weren't so focused on finishing the task at hand. absent-mindedly:]

I'm an idiot. [not silly. master glen called him an idiot, so an idiot he must be.

and even though he... honestly doesn't get that (jack doesn't know what oswald deserves- he just barely knows himself), doesn't catch on immediately, he still manages to give something coherent that it isn't "i don't deserve to exist, honestly".]

I don't know what you're talking about. [he doesn't. (kind of. again, focused on this.) one. last. stitch. unconcerned about himself as he finishes:] -and that's because there is blood on my clothes.

[they soaked it all up like a sponge!]

My Romeo is an idiot.

[softly, and he pulls away, as soon as the thread is cut, and he just- picks at oswald's jacket and tries to push it off. Because he really is a massive idiot because dude why. The cream in his hair is drying out and the blood on oswald's shirt is drying out and- ]

Well, since I sat still for this, you should sit still while I clean you up!

[??] 'Romeo'?

[his name is oswald, not romeo!! you mean the blood on oswald's once white shirt--? he's panicking briefly on the inside as he sets the needle back down, but not pulling himself away even if he might want to throw his hands up like slow down dude you don't want to see the damage.

he feels like he needs to cover his ears, especially with the way that jack reacted to him being hurt in the first place. or jump out of a window. or die. the pain is coming back to him as he moves that shoulder (or, honestly, that side in general).

fight or flight, on! jacket.. off... darting his eyes down and wow that does look like it was life threatening once, doesn't it? aaa well.]

...are you sure? [if jack lets him do it, he'll honestly just sit out shirtless the entire night and let the wound heal like that. but, hm.]

[and jack hopes Oswald will never find out what the reference is for!! He can settle for watching Jack's expressions chase themselves all over his face.

First is surprise.]

[horror, as shaking fingers drift down to the front of his bloody gross blood-crusted oh god why is there so much blood, why- jack states at him and his wounds and he wants to throw up.]

[and here is where Oswald should cover his ears because he opens his mouth to yell and wail and scream at his idiot of a best friend and

nothing comes out. Words won't. Sounds won't. He chokes on air and guilt and he's like a fallen man in his death throes.]

[he clutches with pale sticky fingers at oswald's arms, curling into his sleeves, and he curls up into himself like he's ashamed to look at oswald in the face. (he is.)]

I-I--

I'm sorry.

[this was his fault. Tears drip into the blood pooling on floor, ink in water, and jack wants to die.]

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--

[surprise, horror, eardrum shattering anger he understands and even prepared for, but it's when jack clutches at him that he stares down in concern again. he's apologizing and it's all really strange because this honestly isn't jack's fault.

it's oswald's fault.

oswald's fault, his mistake, his lesson, his wound, his blood, his reasons, and not jack's responsibility. that's how it has always been.]

[and he's moving a hand to slowly slide up and over jack's skin in something he hopes is reassuring, silently slipping up to cup jack's cheek and turn it up so that when he leans over he can nuzzle at jack's forehead.] Why are you crying?

[and, gently pressing a kiss there. comfort and comfort alone, this, and he moves his other hand to lay it over jack's.]

This is not your fault. [...it hurts to admit it, but:] I seem to have grown careless after what happened in Somarium.

[it's true. it was pure carelessness because he was far more focused on finding jack than he was on finding jack unscathed. it won't happen again.]

[did oswald just

kiss

him on the forehead

why this, oswald??

his brain shuts down because um what just happened.]

[he takes a breath and:]

Careless?! You're bleeding all over! Your shirt is red and it was white, lord I-heal-anyway-so-it's-okay-if-i-get-hurt!

[jack prods him in the shoulder with every exclamation. Well, there's his shrieking.]

Why am I crying, he asks! Why am I crying?! Who wouldn't cry in this situation!? You're hurt and you look like you've been shredded because you followed me out and you're hurt because of me and I already have too much of your blood on my hands and, and-

[BREATHES.]

Just because you're a Baskerville doesn't mean you've not to care if you're hurt or wounded or- [his eyes shine suspiciously again,] You're an idiot. Don't think kisses make it better! Kiss me when you're not injured and bleeding everywhere! Idiot!

[and he'll just! tug! at his shirt! angrily!

ignore his face, it's red because he's angry okay. Not because he just realized what he said.]

[--and then there comes the shrieking and why didn't oswald cover his ears? he listens, :Ts, waiting for jack to be done, and shoulder prodding why. oswald wisely does not open his mouth any time that jack pauses for breath and oswald lets jack's words swim in his head along with the voices of glen

(laughing at him)

before he starts.. to sway...... and squint............

NO HE IS NOT GOING TO PASS OUT this will not be a thing and his mind latches onto words, digests them, and then there's tugging on his shirt and he absently drops his hands and closes his eyes.]

I know people who wouldn't cry. [matter of fact - lacie is the first to come to mind.] I'm hurt because I was careless - there have been worse wounds. Don't blame yourself.

[suddenly really, really glad jack wasn't there when he took that hit from that noctaere ahahaha.. ha......]

I'll not die before I've returned to Sablier, Jack. This body is to be used for something. [because oswald thinks of himself as a thing, of course.] You-

[...wh

a

t......

wait no rewind did jack just... say that......]

[..................................................]

[stares at jack.

stare. at him. so. much. and then, completely serious, he nods.

g o t c h a. he'll do that in the morning he decides, moving away and starting to unbutton and discard his torn red-once-white shirt. ick let's... not go out with white button ups. let's not do that anymore. that was a bad idea.]

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done flies into space bye

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[2/2] ILU.......

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[2/3] oops

done brb dyin

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