#its a constant crisis in washington dc or vienna virginia or whereever they happento be at any given time

[hold-him-down]

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One Day

Notes: Maybe like 9 months in?

CW: vague references to noncon, references to noncon drugging, all the typical CW for this story.

✥ ✥ ✥

Leo is shivering as he pulls off his sweatshirt; he feels another wave of dizziness wash over him and he swallows. It took three days of skull-splitting headaches and increasingly persistent nudging from Luke before he agreed to go visit Rob. They left with a prescription for antibiotics and a word of caution to take it easy for a few days. Leo waited in the car while Luke got the medicine, and, while his desperation for relief was palpable, the bottle of pills that he turns over and over and over has his stomach in knots.

The relief will be worth it, Leo tells himself, closing his eyes. It will be worth it. On the peripheries of his worry is the pain that constantly accompanies being drugged, the disorientation, the nausea. Further back is the feeling of hands on him, of not being able to lift his arms, of people looking down at him whispering that it’s okay while lower, his legs are prised apart. And then, the one where everything is dark, and everything hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s real. That one is even further, so far back that Leo blinks the thought– no, the memory– away as quickly as he can, as he swallows and puts the bottle down. Luke won’t hurt you. 

He wraps his arms around his stomach and sits on the edge of the tub, waiting for it to pass. He hears Luke’s footsteps down the hall. If he can act okay, he thinks, maybe Luke won’t make him take them. Maybe, if he can make himself feel better, or at minimum, if he can make Luke believe he’s feeling better, then Luke won’t be worried, and he won’t make him take them.

He swallows again, and his shivering fingers moving to grip to the side of the tub; he sucks in a deep breath through his nose and holds it. His vision swims as he blinks against the fluorescent light.

"Leo?" Luke knocks softly on the door before pushing it open.

Leo opens one eye, squinting in his general direction. His grip tightens on the ceramic, trying to keep himself both upright and still. He’s okay, he tries to say with an easy half smile, but his vision is a little blurry, and he’s distantly aware that unshed tears are the culprit. He can’t pinpoint when that happened, but it’s too late to do anything about it. He shakes his head, offering his best approximation of a smile.

Luke drops to a kneel in front of him, his hand brushing against Leo’s forehead.

"I'm really okay," he hears himself saying, his voice warbled in his ears. He knows he isn’t convincing– not to Luke, and not to himself– but his words come out ahead of his thoughts. “I’m feeling… I think a little better.” He swallows, pinching his eyes shut again. “I think I can… I think it’ll be okay without–” 

At Luke’s expression, he trails off. 

"Right.” Skepticism colors Luke’s tone, but he smiles warmly in spite of it. “You still dizzy?"

"Mhmm." Leo presses his head into Luke's palm, a half-hearted bid to ease the tension there, as Luke brushes the hair away from his too-warm flesh. It's Luke's favorite way to show concern, or, if he’s lucky, sometimes affection. It's become one of Leo's favorites, too. He lets his eyes close, even though he knows there’s danger there. His body, his mind, have been forced to accept this, and to find comfort in it, and to long for it. But he’s never been forced to let his guard down, and he’s never been forced to find safety in this. 

“You’re shivering,” Luke whispers, pressing his fingers into Leo’s palm and uncurling his fingers gently. When he withdraws, he places the plastic bottle in the void, then wraps Leo’s fingers around it.

“How bad is it?”

“Better than before,” Leo replies carefully. “I probably can just… sleep it off.” The bottle in his hand makes the shivering more noticeable.

No response immediately comes from Luke, but he squeezes Leo’s forearm. There’s a long silence, where Leo knows that Luke searches for the words to convince him without commanding him. 

“I don’t want to take them,” Leo eventually whispers, so soft that he’s not sure Luke even registered that he was speaking. He shrinks back automatically, his body readying itself for the pain that’s sure to follow. Slowly, he brings his eyes up to meet Luke’s.

Luke nods, but he’s not happy. 

It’ll help–You’ll feel better– Take these– It doesn’t matter if you want to or not– You can swallow them or I can force them down your throat– We gave you something to help calm you down– We gave you something that’ll make it difficult for you to eat for a few days– We gave you something that might make it hard for you to stand– Take them, Leo. 

Take them. 

Take them. 

Take them.

His head is pounding, the lights are too bright, the sounds too loud. His arms are wrapped around a bucket with doctors surrounding him, he hasn’t eaten in days. He wakes up restrained. He doesn’t know where he–

“Alright,” Luke says, wrapping his fingers around Leo’s, which are gripped tightly around the bottle. They both stare at it.

It doesn’t matter if you want to or not. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’ll– I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll take them, just… just give me a minute?”

Luke takes the medicine and sets it on the counter. The absence of the bottle in his hand is an immediate alarm bell, and he reaches out to Luke. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I want to take them.” He clears his throat, wincing as he does. He has more planned to say,  but Luke cuts him off.

“Hey.” Luke pushes his fingers into Leo’s hair. Something in Leo’s face, which, Leo suspects, is half a decade of anxiety manifesting itself in unshed tears, must have Luke on edge; he tries to fix his expression. “If you want to take them, take them. If you don’t, it’s fine. You’ll survive either way,” he says, his tone overtly lifting. He moves to sit on the ledge of the tub next to Leo, nudging his shoulder with his own. “Probably,” he amends, and Leo forces a smile. 

There’s a silence as they both stare at the pill bottle, innocent-enough looking but wreaking absolute havoc on Leo’s anxiety. 

“You don’t have to take them,” Luke says again. “Why don’t you lay down for a little bit, and once you’re in a better headspace we can reassess? I’ll grab dinner?”

Leo nods, and Luke squeezes his arm. And then, at the risk of unraveling every ounce of confidence he’s gained in the last six months, he says, “It used to be a whole thing.” He stares straight ahead, but he can feel Luke’s eyes on him. “They knew, I think. Early on, that it fre– That it scared me. So they–” He shakes his head. He swallows. His fingers tangle together in his lap. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Luke eventually responds, when it’s clear that Leo doesn’t plan to go further. “I hope you do, though. That one day, you’ll tell me what happened?”

Leo nods, taking a deep breath and blinking back the unshed tears, and stands. He picks up the bottle from the counter and turns to face Luke.

“One day,” he says, nodding. 

Luke trails behind him as he walks back toward his bedroom, and at the door, he says, “I mean that, Leo. I’ll help you, in any way that I can. But I need you to know that you can talk to me, and it won’t go anywhere you don’t want it to go.”

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