#callums teddy

[whump-it]

A Teddy, A Sink, A Kiss.

TW for mentions of blood and past abuse.  Also, have a mystery plot point...oooooooh!

Tag team!

@haro-whumps @grizzlie70 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @iaminamoodymoodtoday @kawaiiloverofanimu @burtlederp @untilthepainstarts @my-whumpy-little-heart @moose-teeth @pepperonyscience @faewhump @saphemme @slaintetowhump

When Rory had asked if he was sure Callum had nodded before he could change his mind. Had said that he wanted to take Haz when he went into hospital and that he wanted Haz to be in bed with him when he woke up. Callum simply couldn't cope with the idea of another person who was meant to be helping him telling that his teddy was disgusting. A health hazard. Something to be avoided.

He hadn't spoken since. He had stood and watched Rory fill the sink in the bathroom with warm water. Not too hot, he'd said, comfortable for Haz. He had gripped tightly to Haz when Rory had turned to him and passed him the bar of soap. He had walked slowly past him, taking his place in front of the sink, his hands trembling a little while Rory stepped aside to give him room. He must have whimpered or sniffed or whined because the room felt too big. The freedom he had was like a vacuum, rushing away from him and leaving him breathless. It should have felt good. It should be everything that he wanted. Everything that he needed. Instead it left him winded.

Rory must have heard him because the very next second, he was pressed bodily up against Callum's back. Head to toe, flush against him, his cheek rubbing back and for over Callum's shoulder blade, his arms around Callum's too-thin frame to hold him tightly. Rory did nothing else. Said nothing. Didn't move except to continue to press his face into Callum's shoulder blade over and over.

More than anything, Callum wanted to be told what to do. Ordered into something. Forced to do and be what someone else decided but he knew that Rory wasn't going to give him what Hayden had. And he knew it was for the best. So while Rory held him, and the water cooled slightly, and a tear slid down one of his cheeks, Callum dipped Haz gently into the sink, then back out. Water ran from the teddy's fur back into the sink, staining it with swirls of rusted red and almost transparent brown.

Another tear ran down, another dip of Haz into the water. This time Callum held his teddy in the water, kept it there until the blood and mud did more than just mingle with the water. They escaped the fibres, the fur, the history that was built in to each strand. They diluted and became less than their parts. They became a part of a perfection that had always seemed too far away. They looked like courage. Rory let go with one arm to empty the sink, refill it, murmur into Callum's ear that Haz needed clean and fresh water. Callum held his teddy up out of the way then lowered it back in as Rory's arm went back around his middle. He pushed Haz around and around in the water until it became too dirty again, until it needed changing again.

When the sink was emptied a second time, when Rory had freed one of his hands to help Callum, he didn't fill it back up. Callum watched Rory's hand slowly hold on to his own, felt Rory's chin resting so so gently on his shoulder. Let himself be guided so that Haz was under the running tap. Callum listened as Rory spoke softly to tell him to let the water run away. Let the water go. Let it all disappear. Callum nodded, tears blurring his vision, dripping into the sink to disappear along with the mud and blood, the terror and fear, the proof of his forced atonement.

Gently, both of Callum's hands on Haz, one of Rory's hands on Callum's, they squeezed the excess water out and turned the tap off. In the buzzing silence of the bathroom Callum turned in the space of Rory's arms, Haz pressed in between them and soaking through their clothes.

One dry hand on his right cheek. One wet hand on his left cheek. Held carefully between his past and his present, guided gently into his future with kind touches. And a kiss that started on his forehead and travelled across his eyes. Moved down the slope of his nose. Brushed over the cupid's bow of his top lip. Pressed to the corners of his mouth, first one and then the other until it reached the middle where he pressed back, reciprocated the motion then let his head drop down to Rory's shoulder.

It would be ok. It was all going to be ok because when his freedom threw itself too wide open, when there was no pain to centre him, there was Rory who had all the gentlest ways to guide him.