#altprompt1

[thefuzzzz]

Jasico Week 2024 - Day 2

Words: 1,212 Rating: General Audiences Type: Oneshot

Description: Jason doesn't know what a nickel allergy is, but he does know the bracelet Nico gave him kinda itches.

Sidenote: This fic was written for @jasico-challenges Jasico week 2024 event!

Full fic under the cut!

Jason never wore jewelry. It was half because he didn’t have any and half because he could never seem to find anything that looked quite right on him.

His frame was too broad for delicate pieces, and his personality was too soft for anything big to look natural. So, he settled on nothing.

Nico was quite the opposite. He had a ring on his hands and a bracelet around his wrist all hours of the day no matter what. Jason could agree that he just didn’t look himself without something to decorate his outfits.

It wasn’t a huge surprise when Nico gave Jason a simple bracelet for their anniversary. He was known among their friends for gifting jewelry and shiny things in general, much like a crow.

They had been curled up in Jason’s college dorm. Nico shadow traveled from camp, despite Jason’s reprimanding for using his powers when not totally necessary.

When presented with the bracelet, Jason studied it carefully. It was a simple golden chain with a heart-shaped charm in the middle and Nico’s initial carved into it. Nico held up his wrist, providing a clear view of his own. His was silver, with Jason’s initial where his was.

Jason grinned, allowing Nico to help his inexperienced hands put it on, and didn’t take it off for weeks.

There was the problem.

Weeks. Jason had gone weeks without looking all too closely at his arm, just looking at the bracelet.

One night, after slaving away on a model due for his architecture class, he found his hands covered in glue. He walked through the dorm halls until he got to the bathroom and briefly took off his bracelet to wash the glue off his hands and wrists.

That was when he saw it, a ring of red irritated skin. Jason pulled his wrist to his face to closer examine it. He pulled up his glasses as if that would help.

After a few seconds of staring, he decided it was nothing, put his bracelet back on, and walked to his dorm.

Jason was not a smart man.

He fell asleep, and the next morning started the way back to camp via every form of public transportation available for fall break. Could he get a driver's license? Yeah. Was he going to do that anytime soon? Probably not.

He got to camp at an awful hour of the night and proceeded to essentially break into Nico’s cabin and crash out next to him, hardly taking the time to change into his pajamas. Nico was dead asleep but didn’t seem to mind the cuddling. He woke up briefly to press a kiss to Jason’s cheek, but the second his boyfriend quit moving around, Nico was out again.

The next morning, Jason opened his eyes to Nico also awake, wrapped around him and playing a game on a gameboy with dubious origins. He pulled him closer, burying his face in his chest.

Nico laughed, the sound reverberating his chest against Jason’s ear. “‘Morning,” Nico said, stooping down to kiss Jason’s head. Jason could hear the smile in his voice without even having to look at him.

Jason grumbled in response and would’ve fallen right back asleep then and there if Nico hadn’t dragged him out of bed for breakfast. Nico got dressed, Jason did not.

They walked out, blinking against the morning sun, and reached the breakfast line. A few people greeted Jason, telling him how much they missed having him at camp. He was too tired and poorly dressed to have much comment but did his best to match their energy.

They sat down at the Hades table. Seeing as Jason was a guest, he could sit wherever he wanted. Also, he’d be damned if he came all the way to New York only to be forced to eat breakfast away from his boyfriend. The harpies could eat him whole for all he cared, he would sit where he damn well pleased.

Nico finished his food and played with Jason’s hand absently as he waited for him to finish his. It was a subtle routine. Nico liked to keep his hands busy, and he quite enjoyed non-extreme PDA, so hand-holding evolved into Nico toying with Jason’s hands from time to time.

Nico’s hands suddenly stopped, and he leaned down to examine Jason’s hand. After a few minutes of careful scrutinizing, Jason was starting to miss the sporadic nature of Nico’s physical touch.

“What?” Jason asked, attempting to rub sleep from his face. Nico held his hand down so he wouldn’t retract it. “What’s going on with your wrist?” Jason looked down, following Nico’s gaze. “Oh, I dunno. It just started doing that.”

Nico reeled back, looking up at his face. “And you didn’t…I don’t know…think it had something to do with the bracelet?” Jason returned his eyes to his breakfast with a shrug. “It’ll go away.”

Nico examined a little closer, taking off the bracelet and laying it on the table.

“Does it itch?” he asked. Jason sighed. “Sometimes. It’s fine though. It does that sometimes.” “When you wear jewelry?” Nico asked.

Jason sighed again, a little louder to get the point across. Then, he realized Nico’s question wasn’t all that dismissable. He wracked his brain for a moment before concluding that his answer was affirmative.

“Yes,” Jason said slowly. Nico snickered. “Jason, light of my life, my love, you have a nickel allergy.”

Jason looked down at his wrist again. “I do?” Nico nodded. “Mhm. The bracelet was not real gold.” “It wasn’t?”

Nico laughed again, this time slightly louder, as if that was a funny statement. Jason furrowed his eyebrows, but couldn’t help the smile that crept up his face.

He shook Nico’s leg. “What? What’s funny?” “Nothing, nothing,” Nico said, ending his laughter. Jason shook him again. “Why’re you laughing?” “It’s just-” Nico started snickering again. “You seriously didn’t think anything of it?”

Jason threw up his hands in feigned annoyance before returning to his oatmeal. Oatmeal could not save him from his giggling boyfriend, though.

A few weeks later, when Jason came back to camp for winter break, he spent the whole thing in Nico’s cabin.

About halfway through an Italian movie Jason did not understand but was happy to be a part of, Nico suddenly stood. “Oh, I forgot. I got you something,” he said, walking over to his desk and digging around for a minute. He returned, plopping back on the floor in front of Jason’s school-issued Chromebook. “Hold out your arm,” he instructed.

Jason did as told, pulling his arm from under the pillow he was lying on and holding it in front of Nico.

“Close your eyes,” Nico said again. Jason obliged like he always did when it came to Nico.

When he opened his eyes again, a bracelet made of purple thread adorned his wrist, no nickel to be seen. Nico held up his own wrist, showing his black matching bracelet.

Jason smiled. “Did you make these?” He asked, examining the slightly botched threading. Nico nodded, slight hints of embarrassment playing in the red of his cheeks. “Yeah.”

Nico opened his mouth to speak again, but Jason tackled him in a hug before he could get the words off his tongue.

[ladywynne]

'Til Death Do Us Part

Happy Angstpril! This little story is set directly after episode 6. Marc and Layla need to talk, but it's been a day. Steven is there to help. For the angstpril alt prompt "'Til death do us part." There is angst but tbh there is fluff too.

Words: 1323

CW: a bit of blood, minor panic attack, mention of gunshot wound, scars

Other notes on AO3.

**************************************************************

When Khonshu left he took his power with him. Marc slumped, nearly falling as he stepped off the rubble he was standing on. Layla was beside him in an instant, and he wrapped his arms around her, learning his head against the crook of her neck.

“You’re finally free,” she whispered into his curls, her hands squeezing his back.

“Because of you, babe. I couldn’t have done it without you and Steven.” He meant every word. His wife had always amazed him, but the strength and determination she had shown on his behalf, the support she still gave him- it took his breath away.

Steven fronted after that, following Layla to her hotel room. She retreated into the shower, so he shed his sandy clothes and boots and flopped onto the bed in his boxers. He had nothing to change into, but he couldn’t be in those things anymore.

Steven hadn’t had a moment to adjust to his new reality, merely reacting to one crisis after another. And he couldn’t unpack it all now, he was still a bit in shock, but he did take a moment to process what it felt like to have Marc right there. So close to the front they could swap in an instant. It was a strange sensation. It was kind of nice too.  

“Marc?” he tried. He had never attempted internal communication and he was too exhausted to experiment.

“Yeah,” Marc felt like he was nestled into Steven, drowsy and content.

“I have to tell you something. Right now, before we sleep.”

Marc’s presence sharpened a bit, but he didn’t seem alarmed. “All right.”

Steven fiddled with his fingers, staring at the ceiling, “I don’t want you to go. Not anymore. Just…don’t disappear on me.”

Marc brought a hand to their shoulder, squeezing gently. “I won’t. I’m here if you want me.”

“And Layla? She’s still your wife.”

Marc hesitated, “That’s up to her.”

“But you still love her?”

Steven thought Marc wasn’t going to answer, but then, very softly, “Yes.”

Steven lapsed back into silence. Content for the moment just to know he wouldn’t be alone again.

Soon after they heard the shower cut off, and Steven pulled a throw blanket over himself as Layla exited the washroom. She gestured toward the shower, and he went in for his turn. He let the hot water flow over him, washing away the dust of an old life to prepare for the new.

*****

Steven went into the shower, but Marc came out, a towel around his waist and rubbing another through his hair. There was a shopping bag just inside the door. Presumably Layla had found some clothes for him. He put on soft, clean things and stepped out.

At first Marc noticed nothing but her. Layla’s hair was loose and wild, her figure silhouetted in the dim room by the gleam of Cairo through the window behind her. Their wedding came unexpectedly to mind, along with a vision of Layla smiling as they danced. Ani ohev otkha, he thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.

Layla was looking down at something in her hands, rubbing her fingers over it. He came nearer, and when he realized what it was, he froze.

She knew he was there though, and didn’t look up when she spoke, “’’Til death do us part.’ Isn’t that what people say? I didn’t realize how soon that would be.”

Her breath hitched, and Marc drew close, “Layla…”

She turned to face him, still holding his ruined white shirt. The blood had been diffused in the water but was still evident. And in the center of that rust-brown stain, clutched in her small hands, were two jagged round bullet holes. “I mean we both lead interesting lives. I knew the chances to grow old with you were slim, but I didn’t understand what that meant. Not until today.”

“Come here, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she let him, her hands falling to her sides and the shirt dropping back to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

She curled up against his chest, and he held her even more closely. “I had just gotten you back,” she whispered. “I was so worried when you disappeared. Then so hurt when the papers came. All I could think about was finding you. I thought you loved me, Marc. I thought we were happy.”

He tightened his arms, “We were happy. Baby, it was all me. Hiding Steven, running. All me. On top of everything I thought Khonshu was after you too.”

She leaned back to look up at him, frowning, “You didn’t trust me, Marc. I trusted you. I believed you about Khonshu. I said no.”

He backed up, running his hand through his damp hair. “I’m sorry!” he said again.

“I just-“ Layla took his hand and tried to pull him to sit beside her on the bed, but he shook her off.

“I didn’t want to see you trapped like I was!”

He felt his chest tighten. Today had already been so much. And now he had to face hurting Layla. He couldn’t. He felt the old urge to run, to shut down, to go. Steven was right there. But he didn’t switch in front of Layla. He has to hide it, has to hold on…

Steven pushed him firmly and compassionately aside. He found a mirror and saw Marc in it, head lowered and shoulders hunched, “It’s ok bruv. We’re in this together now. Take a mo’.” Then he turned to Layla.

She looked upset. “I shouldn’t have pushed him. I wasn’t trying to.”

Steven smiled sympathetically and sat on the bed with her, “I know. He knows. It’s been hard on all of us.”

Layla nodded, wordless.

Steven took in her strained expression and didn’t stop to think. He simply opened his arms to her.

Layla leaned into them. He felt her tremble briefly, starting to pull away, but he held on. Then her body relaxed all at once, and she began to cry. “I’m sorry,” she gasped out. “I’m not usually like this.”

“It’s ok dove,” he soothed, rubbing up and down her back. “Let it out.“

Layla sobbed harder, “Seeing you like that, so still in the water. There was nothing I could do!”

Steven held her and rocked her, “I know. I’m so sorry.”

When she eventually quieted she stayed against him, and Steven said gently, “Marc loves you too, you know. He just can’t always say it.”

“I know.” She straightened a bit, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, and moved so that her head was leaning on his shoulder. She took a deep breath. “I love him too.”

The body next to her shifted and she looked up into Marc’s eyes. They were sad. “I’m a mess, Layla. I understand if it’s too much.”

Layla laid her hand against his cheek, shaking her head. “I want you, Marc. Both of you. All of you. Do you still want me?”

“Always,” he pressed his own hand fiercely against hers. He had missed her desperately. “Layla, always.”

“Then I know we have things to work out, but for now, can you just promise that you’ll try? Just promise you won’t leave without saying anything. I – I couldn’t take that again.”

He took her hand in both his own. “I can do that.”

She gave him a gentle smile, and he leaned forward, tilting his head. He met her lips softly, sweetly, and to his eternal gratitude, Layla returned the kiss.

When they parted her hand raised to press itself against his chest, on top of two fresh scars. Death had parted them, but the bond remained.  She swallowed and reaffirmed herself with words he knew, words from a wedding poem. “And my stuttering heart speaks clear, habibi.”

He held her gaze and finished in kind, ”Breathe me more of your breath. Let me live, h’aim sheli.”

[whumpapalooza]

WHUMPTOBER 2022

No. 7 THE WAY YOU SHAKE AND SHIVER Shaking Hands | Seizures | Silent Panic Attack Alt 1 – ringing ears

(Space Interns Masterpost)

Blare was late to dinner – again. So Glen offered to go get her.

He entered the lift and typed the code for bridge access. The doors closed, and the lift shot upwards. Glen leaned back against the wall, turning his arm over to play with settings on his bracer while he waited.

But then Glen’s ears popped, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. Glen blinked, raising a hand to press fingers against his eyes. “Ugh…”

Glen took a deep breath, but still felt woozy. A high pitch began to ring in his ears. Glen reached out for the wall and leaned against it for support.

The elevator slowed to a halt atop the craft, and the doors parted to reveal the bridge.

Music blasted from every speaker. Glen could see Blare at the helm, her head bobbing to the beat.

Glen took another deep breath, and then called out. “Blare?” he said, but he could barely hear himself over the music and the ringing in his ears. He sighed and stepped onto the bridge. “Blare!” he called again.

Blare whirled around. “Glen!” she greeted. Then, with a wave of her hand, she said, “Aegis, reduce volume to 20 percent.”

The music quieted, but the ringing in Glen’s ears remained. He stood still as vertigo pulled at him. “Dinner,” he said simply.

“Already?” Blare asked. She grinned. “That was a quick day.” She turned around pinched her fingers, then drew her hands apart. The console reacted, projecting the closest star system. “So, we’re in a pretty good spot to just drift. I’ll just set an anchor so we don’t go far...”

“Mhm,” Glen said.

“And – there.” Blare made a wide, circular motion with her arms, and the console hummed quietly in response. The music faded and the lights dimmed.

Blare stepped off the helm, locked it behind her, and walked toward the lift, passing Glen in just two strides.

Glen turned to follow her, but the sudden movement made him dizzy. He stumbled sideways, just catching himself before he fell to the floor.

Blare shot him a look.

Glen smiled sheepishly. “Uh – tripped over my own feet,” he said.

Blare rolled her eyes and led the way onto the lift. Glen followed. Once inside, he leaned his back against the wall as casually as he could. The elevator started to descend, and Glen closed his eyes. The world spun.

“What’s for dinner?” Blare asked.

Glen could hardly focus on standing upright, let alone remember the details of their upcoming meal. “It’s Slipper’s night,” he said vaguely.

Blare laughed. “So it’s an egg thing,” she guessed. Glen cracked a smile; that was accurate.

The lift slowed to a halt. Then the doors slid open, and Glen opened his eyes. It still felt like the world was tilting. He fixed his gaze on a spot on the floor and held still.

Blare gave him another look. “What’s up?” she asked.

“I – left something in the engine,” he lied. “You go ahead.” Maybe he could be alone, sit down for a bit. Just until the ringing in his head went away.

“Grab it on the way down to your cabin,” Blare said. “You look pale – you should eat something.”

Glen swallowed. “Yeah,” he said. He followed Blare out of the elevator.

Glen focused his energy on walking in a straight line. Every step felt like a gamble. The pitch in his ears was getting higher. Glen’s vision was going white.

They walked over to the dining hall, where the rest of the crew was waiting with full plates.

“Smells…like egg,” Blare said politely. Slipper gave no reaction.

“Hey, Minervas,” Brando said. “That’s two days this week we’ve had to come get you.”

“One more and you lose the bet!” Tabby chirped.

Blare and Glen came to a stop at the end of the table. Blare sighed. “Oh, don’t start. I told you, last night didn’t count –“

Brando and Tabby burst into a chorus of “no”s. They all started talking at once.

Glen didn’t like the way Slipper was looking at him. He had a suspicion that the physician knew something was wrong.

Just make it through dinner, Glen thought. If it’s still bad after dinner, talk to Slipper. Just make it through dinner.

He sat at the table, thanked Slipper for the food, and ate.

[occasionalstorytelling]

Of Danger and Lies: Whumptober, Day One

Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Word Count: 2,342

Summary: After the end of the war, Garak and Bashir live together on Cardassia Prime. Garak works on rebuilding his home, and Julian explores the city looking for adventure. One day, something finds Julian.

Tags: Stabbing, Blood Loss

Garak was sick of drinking cold tea from a broken coffee machine. He was sick of the cold winter weather making him drowsy all day. At this exact second, however, he didn’t care about either of those things, because he was too busy being sick of waiting for Julian to get home.

Julian had said he’d be gone for less than an hour. It had been twice that time already, and no still sign of him. How long could it possibly take to run a few simple errands? But leave it to Julian to get distracted. He’d be back at the the office any minute now, holding something random in one hand, that same wide-eyed surprised look splattered all over his face, saying something like “I’ve never seen this fruit before! Is it native to Cardassia?” Of course it is, Doctor. And you’ll likely find it disgusting, just like the last few Cardassian delicacies you tried. But go ahead and give it a taste, because your completely unjustified optimism is the only thing that makes life seem worth it.

It had been a long day. Garak was sick of dealing with paperwork and reports. As soon as Julian got back, they were going straight home. Garak was ready to ditch his responsibilities for the night, cuddle up with Julian (who was always so WARM, even in the winter) and talk about their hopes for the future and not about the crushing realities of reality. Julian was the perfect companion for nights like that. Garak stirred his stupid cold tea with a finger, shifted his stupid scarf around his neck against the cold, and pretended to read something on his desk while he waited for Julian to come back.

“Sir!” Garak’s assistant came busting into the office, unannounced. Tain would never have tolerated that kind of behavior, Garak reflected drily. “There’s a human dead in the street outside!”

Now that was exactly the sort of thing Julian should be here for, Garak thought. Julian was a doctor, after all, and not every Cardassian doctor knew how to treat mammals. Whoever was outside would be better off with a veterinarian. Then again, he’d be better off if he came inside and waited for Julian to treat him, just like Garak was waiting for Julian. Come to think of it, though, where did the human come from? The only human Garak knew of living in the city was Julian, and…

It wasn’t a human dead in the street outside. It was his human dead in the street outside. In a swift fluid motion, Garak was suddenly past his assistant and out of the office, not even stopping to grab his coat. A small crowd was gathering in the street, murmuring and whispering to each other. Again, Tain would never have tolerated this, Garak thought grimly as he pushed though. Tain wouldn’t have let the rabble fuss over a measly dead body. If Julian was really dead, Garak didn’t know what he would do.

“Let me pass,” Garak hissed, shoving through the crowd with his sharp shoulders. He emerged into a small clear space, devoid of people except for one human lying on the ground. His dark skin color was visible through his frankly scandalous clothing choice, all that collarbone out in the open air, and in weather like this, too? Humans really have no understanding of the cold. 

The body was definitely Julian. He was lying face down on the ground, clutching a scrap of fabric in one hand. His bag must have been stolen. At a brief glance, he didn’t seem hurt. Some Cardassians wouldn’t know a dead human from a sleeping one, anyway, so it was entirely possible that everything was totally fine. Everything was fine.

Tain once said that the most dangerous lies are the ones you tell yourself…especially the ones you need to believe.

Garak knelt next to Julian, and ever so gently, flipped him over so he was lying on his back. Julian coughed at this (proving he was alive, which was good) but Garak’s new view of him revealed a dark patch of red all over his stomach, bleeding sticky red through his clothes.

“Julian?” Garak cupped Bashir’s face in one hand. “What happened?”

Julian fluttered his eyes, but they didn’t open. Come on, human medicine, try to remember something, Garak thought. He checked Julian’s pulse. There were some difficulties in finding it, so Garak could only assume it was weaker than usual. And Julian’s hands were cold. That wasn’t good. Julian was always so warm, but he wasn’t right now. That really wasn’t good. Humans were supposed to be warm. Garak scooped Julian up off the ground, hoping that he wasn’t injuring Julian more in an attempt to help him.

“Is anyone a doctor? A veterinarian?” Garak looked around at the crowd. Nothing but blank faces and confusion.

“Then get out of the way!” Garak screamed, channeling the all-consuming worry for Julian into anger and intimidation.

The crowd silently cleared a path. Despite the ridiculous cold, Garak fought through it, carrying Julian into the waiting room of his office. His assistant stood in the doorway, hovering uncertainly.

Garak took a small knife from one of his pockets and began cutting away at the fabric of Julian’s shirt. It only seemed to make the blood flow harder, and Julian’s face was starting to turn white. Garak examined the injury as best he could. It was a deep, thin cut—a stab wound. It wasn’t a very clean cut, either—clearly an amateurs work. And on top of that, humans were so fragile. No protective scales…and there was no point in carrying a knife on Cardassia if it couldn’t break a Cardassian’s skin. The knife must have ripped through Julian’s soft, perfect, unmarked skin like a…Garak shook his head, trying to focus.

“Call a veterinarian or a doctor,” Garak said to the assistant. “Whoever can get here first, so long as they know how to treat mammals.”

The assistant bolted out of the room, and Garak could only assume they were getting a communicator. Julian coughed and managed to flick his eyes open.

“I’m…I’m sorry I was running late,” he smiled weakly.

“Shh...it’s all right,” Garak said, gently pushing Julian’s hair out of his eyes. “What happened, dearest one?”

“Someone in the market...I was just getting back here when someone tried to take my purse. He called me a name and then...stabbed me,” Julian tried to sit up.

“Stay down,” Garak said. “Try not to move. Where’s your medkit?”

“There’s a spare at home,” Julian coughed. “The one I keep with me... it’s gone.”

“That’s okay,” Garak soothed. The medkit at home was a half hour’s walk away. Too far to be any use. “A doctor is on the way,” Garak lied. He had no idea if that was true. He hoped it was. “What do I do?” he asked.

“Put pressure on it,” Julian said. Garak removed his scarf, barely conscious anymore of the cold, and pressed it into Julian’s wound. Julian hissed with pain as he did so, then began to settle just slightly.

“How did this happen?” Garak whispered, mostly to himself.

“I’m not very good with Cardassian yet...but the name he called me. It was a compound word. Something about you, and something like “pet,” and something like “servant,” I think,” Julian said. “I guess I need to *cough* brush up on those lessons you’re giving me.”

“I know the word,” Garak said through gritted teeth. “Your translation is a kind way of putting it. I…I’ve heard people call you that before, but I made it clear how I felt about it and what I would do to anyone who used it,” Garak hissed.

Julian groaned. “More pressure. I’m...this hurts, it really hurts, Garak.”

Garak steeled himself, and pressed as hard as he could without breaking bones. “How’s this, my love?”

“I have no idea,” Julian sighed. “I need a doctor.”

“I know,” Garak blinked, trying to hold back tears. “I’m so sorry…whoever did this, they hurt you because of me, because of the way I love you. It’s my fault.”

“Love doesn’t hurt,” Julian coughed weakly. “And this isn’t your fault. I’m...getting sleepy. Keep me awake until a doctor arrives, okay? I might be going into shock, but I’m not sure, but I don’t know what we can do about that right now anyway.”

“Okay,” Garak said, putting all his focus on applying the appropriate pressure to the wound. “How do I keep you awake?”

“Ask me questions,” Julian said. “So I have to think.”

“Okay,” Garak said as he felt Julian’s blood beginning to soak though the scarf, warming his hands. It was almost a pleasant sensation, but that body heat belonged to Julian, and it shouldn’t be slipping away like this. Garak couldn’t stop himself from crying, like he hadn’t cried in a long time. “Julian, do you know where we are?”

“Your office,” Julian smiled. “My Garak, leading the way, rebuilding Cardassia.”

“That’s right,” Garak smiled sadly. “Do you remember how to say office in Cardassian?”

“No,” Julian furrowed his brow. “But I remember how to say home. And when I say my home, I actually say that it’s ours, and I use your name as part of the identifying structure.”

“Good,” Garak said, his vision starting to blur with tears. “You’ll be speaking Cardassian like a native soon enough.”

“You really think so?” Julian smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back.

“I do,” Garak said. “What’s your favorite word I’ve taught you so far?”

Julian didn’t respond, his muscles going slack as he started to drift off.

“No, no, Julian, stay awake, stay awake, okay?” Garak hesitated for a horrible moment between shaking him awake and maintaining the pressure on the injury. He decided to focus on the pressure, trying to keep Julian’s blood where it belonged. “Julian, please, tell me any word you can remember in Cardassian, okay? You have to focus.”

Julian stirred, and said a word that froze Garak’s blood.

“Wherever did you hear that?” Garak flushed, angrily. It meant traitor, but more than that, it meant useless object. Something you’d discard. Someone who’d die in exile. It was a word Garak hadn’t heard in a long time. It was from one of Garak’s worst memories of Tain.

“s’ the first Cardassian word I learned,” Julian said, barely conscious. “Tain said it about you when I had to talk to him about the…the thingy in your brain. I thought it had to be good, because it’s about you. Is it a good one?”

“It’s not,” Garak said tightly. Some days he wished he could make Julian forget about the Wire.

“Okay,” Julian said. “Then...beloved. How do you say that in Cardassian?”

“I’ll teach you the syllables if you can stay awake for me,” Garak whispered.

“I’m…’m trying, Garak,” Julian coughed, voice weak from the blood loss. Garak’s hands were starting to stain red as the warm, sticky blood soaked through the scarf. How much blood could humans lose before they died? Garak didn’t know. Julian had already lost a lot.

“Is it worth it?” Garak asked, not sure if the question was meant for Julian or himself. “You’re only going to get hurt, staying attached to me like this. What if this is only the beginning? What if...what if it kills you, to be loved by me?”

“It’s worth it,” Julian said. “It won’t kill me, Garak…but if it did, it would be worth it.”

Despite Garak’s best efforts to keep Julian awake, that was the last thing Julian said until the doctor arrived. The doctor worked on Julian as Garak’s assistant ushered him away to wash his hands. Garak watched the red drain away into the sink. There was so much of it. It took only a few swipes of a dermal regenerator for the doctor to close the horrible hole in Julian’s stomach, but this didn’t mean Julian was safe, yet. Garak was told they’d need a matching human blood donor or a lot of replicator units (and quickly) to replace the blood he’d lost.

“Use my replicator units,” Garak didn’t hesitate. “It’ll take too long to find a donor.”

“It’s going to be a lot of units,” the doctor said.

“Use them all if you have to,” Garak glared. The doctor looked at Garak, every inch a man capable of murder, and complied. The transplant was replicated and given to Julian.

“He’ll wake up soon,” the doctor said, after the worst of the danger was passed. “We can move him to your house now. He should rest until he’s fully healed. It might be a few days.”

“I understand,” Garak said. They moved Julian on a stretcher into a vehicle and then to Garak’s house. Garak paid the doctor and set Julian up in his bed, sitting upright for circulation.

While Julian slept, Garak sifted through Julian’s pockets. Julian had kept most of his money safe in a wallet, so that had survived the mugging. In another pocket, there was a component piece that would have fixed the broken coffee machine. Garak sighed sadly. Julian really was too good for him.

A piece of paper fell out of Julian’s coat as Garak shook it out. A note, stained just slightly red with drops of human blood. Julian’s blood. It read: “Cardassia hates you. You will never weaken us with federation values. You’re next.”

It was written in Cardassian. It was unmistakably meant for Garak. Garak shredded the note and incinerated it.

Julian woke up not longer after, to a cup of room-temperature water Garak had ready for him. “Thank you,” Julian rasped. “How am I doing? Am I gonna be okay?”

“Everything is going to be okay,” Garak lied. He had no idea how things would be.

Tain was wrong, Garak decided. The most dangerous lies are the ones you tell your lover.

[thewidowsredweb]

♥ Whumptober Day 1 ♥

Alternative Prompt: 14 - Battlefield

TW: Child Loss, war, death in general

~~~~~~~~~~

Comic references mainly, but I figured when I saw the battlefield prompt I knew I wanted to write about this rarely discussed part of her comic history. It honestly ended up more as a hurt fic than a hurt/comfort, but I'm excited to see where this month of writing might go.

Happy/unhappy reading!

[whumptober]

I know you've had a few questions already about the whole tagging system. And I'm sorry if this repeats, but I just want to make sure I understand it, especially since a lot of my chapters are multiprompts and I'm still learning the tumblr tagging system. Like, say, currently I'm trying out: 8,9,alt1,alt2... So that would be tagged in full as something like: #whumptober2020 #no.8 #no.9 #isolation #run! #altprompt1 #altprompt2 #punctured #stoic whumpee #fandom #fic ...with my tags following :)

Hi,

we just compiled a comprehensive post about tagging. You can find it [here].

Based on it your tags would look like this:

#whumptober2020 #no.8 #no.9 #isolation #run! #punctured #stoic whumpee #altprompt #fandom #fic