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make-sterek-canon · 4 years ago

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That night I saved you || PolArm oneshot (KinnPorsche The Series)

Getting hurt being somebody's bodyguard is part of the job. It's inevitable.

Getting killed is another thing entirely. In Pol's eyes, it's unacceptable. Even more if the one at risk is Arm.

“That night I saved you”

[Pol’s POV] (Italics = emphasis/others; italics and bold = thoughts)

Extremely warm night. Sticky climate. His suit is completely ruined from all the sweat and dirtiness. There's also some blood mixed in there. Snot too, probably. Pol can't tell.

He's holding Arm down with one hand and the gun with the other. Arm is unconscious and not even responding to any external stimulus. All Pol can feel is his heart beating in his chest. Too slow to be noticed but it's something, some hope in the dark situation they're in.

Pol needs to get Arm out of there and fast or he'll lose him, and he's definitely not ready to say goodbye just yet. Maybe not ever.

He pushes the button on his earpiece but dead silence welcomes him from the other side. He takes off the damn thing rather violently. Time to put into action his last resort then.

"Pete! Pete!" His shouts fill the air. The bullets are still flying around and there's too much noise. He waits a few seconds, then tries again. Calling Pete desperately. Unrelenting sweat is falling down his face and neck, wetting even more his white (not anymore) shirt.

"Here!" He hears, and he sighs in relief.

"Listen! Can you handle it? I need to get Arm some help, he's in bad shape!"

"Go, I'll cover you!

That's all he needs to get going. Ducked behind a pile of sturdy-looking boxes, Pol tries to pinpoint Pete's position so he'll know where to move. Judging by his shouts he might be somewhere to the right and if Pol remembers correctly there's an exit that way. He needs to move to reach it though and it's easier said than done since he still has to protect both himself and Arm from getting hit by stray bullets. The only way is staying crouched while dragging Arm's motionless body.

Unresponsive as his fellow is, Pol is taking longer to do just that. He also needs to call someone to come and get them because they took Pete's car this time and of course he's the one that has the keys.

Pol curses under his breath. He'll definitely make a copy for next time. If there was a next time. There is still the possibility that none of them will survive the night after all.

After countless and torturous minutes he finds himself closer to the right side exit. This abandoned warehouse is big but not enough to get yourself lost.

Fortunately, no one has seen them and Pol hopes it stays that way for a bit longer.

"Hang in there, Arm. We're almost out."

He hasn't moved yet and Pol is starting to think that he's been dragging a corpse all along, but the sole thought is quickly getting to him and there's no time to lose.

The air is even more stickier and dense outside than inside the building, and Pol is heavily wheezing from the effort. Resting Arm's back against the facade, he places a hand on his chest to support him while taking the phone out with his free hand. Scratch that. He decides against it when not even two seconds have passed. They were not going to make it if they had to wait for someone from the major clan to come.

"Think, Pol. Think..."

Raising his eyes he suddenly notices an old gray Sedan some meters away, parked on the side of the smaller building, part of the main one but detached.

"This better work."

Hauling Arm as carefully as his own banged up body allows him, he walks to the vehicle. It should be easy to open since its windows are not armored as Pete's and the rest of their cars. Or if it's a getaway car as Pol suspects he could probably find the keys nearby, placed there for the owner to grant a fast escape.

First things first, he rests Arm against the car and checks to make sure it isn't open before looking for the keys. Crouching close to the driver's side tire Pol sticks his hand in the space between the car's fender and the tire, finding the keys on top of it. Bingo. After grabbing them he gets up and when a shot rings out, his hand opens on instinct dropping them to the ground. The bullet impacts against the gravel right next to where Arm is and Pol's breath stops working for a second, scared that he might have been hit.

"Where do you think you're going, scum? Put your hands up and turn around. Slowly."

Pol does as he's told, facing the man. He's pretty much average looking, not as big in size as Pol and he's definitely tired if his labored breathing is any indication. He has to take him down. And fast.

The quietness doesn't last long when the man steps forward with his gun still raised. The distance is shorter and Pol takes that chance to surprise his enemy, crouching down and getting some gravel to throw it to his face. That gets him a shout in response and he promptly throws himself against the man next to take the gun away. It flies off somewhere. But that's not the end of it. The man only needs a moment to collect himself and he attacks Pol. Avoiding blow after blow, he counterattacks when he has the opportunity, but he's not fast enough to block a sudden kick to the ribs. Falling to his knees in agonizing pain, Pol raises his head to look at the man, who's got a karambit and is brandishing it right in front of his face.

"Very nice... Just stay there like the dog you are. Fucking useless." He snickers and Pol flinches in disgust. "Your fuck-buddy must be dead, huh? Don't worry, you'll be following him soon enough..."

Pol glances Arm's way and his eyes tear up but he bites down hard on his lower lip to prevent the tears from falling. It's highly efficient since the pain distracts him from feeling anything else. He's not going to give the bastard the satisfaction to seeing him cry. Not for his own life, but for his fallen friend. The defiant look Pol sends the man's way makes him smile sadistically.

"Ah, that look... I'm so gonna enjoy butchering you like I would do a pig..."

A sudden movement causes Pol to look behind the man, a bit to his left. The man notices but it's not enough for him to turn around or even move. There's no time since he already has a bullet embedded in his skull. The dead body falls forward right into Pol but he moves before it touches him.

Still kneeling, he looks up at the shooter. Vegas.

"Empty promises... I hate people who are all bark and no bite the most." He says, with a gravely tone full of disdain.

And suddenly it's like a staring contest. But this time there's neither winner nor loser.

"Where's Pete?"

Pol is not sure if he should answer though he somehow knows that Vegas means no harm to his friend.

"Still inside."

"Get the fuck out of here or I'll finish you off. Less Kinn's bodyguards means less threats to my clan."

"Why won't you then?"

"What?"

"Finish us off."

"Let's just say that a certain someone wouldn't like that. Be grateful."

Guess who.

With nothing more to say, apparently, Vegas turns around and walks to the main building, gun in hand and ready. You can still hear some commotion happening inside. Pol watches him go for a second before getting up to get the keys from the gravel to open the car. He checks on Arm then, looking for his pulse in the neck. It's there. Weak, but there. Pol heaves a sigh of relief.

Getting him inside the car is not as easy at it looks but he manages to lay him down on the back seats. Pol is still not sure how is he that unconscious but he suspects he was brutally hit with something, and he worries that Arm might have a concussion since he's bleeding quite profusely from the head.

The road is completely empty on their way back and Pol speeds through it with too little care for anything else than getting Arm the help he needs.

Pol is so focused that he swerves and almost goes off the road when his phone rings unexpectedly, strident in the silent car.

His heart still in his throat, he answers after a few more tones ring.

"Pol, it's Pete."

"Hey... How are things there?" He asks the best he can, trying to steady his racing heart so it could return to normal.

"Calmer. I- I think we did it. The cargo is ours" Pete's voice is wavering a little, and Pol is not going to ask how they got it since he already knows. They had outside help and if Boss Korn found out he'd be anything but happy. But he won't say a thing. He's never been a whistleblower and he won't start now.

"Casualties?"

"Not many. We came prepared after all."

"Yeah..." Pol distractedly says, looking at Arm through the rearview mirror.

"What about Arm? Where are you taking him?"

"Where do you think?"

"Dr. Top? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Pol grips the steering wheel so hard that both his hands start hurting, and he asks with his teeth clenched. "I don't have many options at the moment, or do I?"

He doesn't trust the man either but it's also true that there's nobody else they can go to. Dr. Top is as mysterious as he is a good doctor, and he'll treat Arm fairly.

"Ok, ok. Do what you have to do."

Running a trembling hand through his thick and slightly sweaty hair, Pol exhales slowly. "Pete, Arm... he... I'm not sure if he's alive. He hasn't moved or anything since before we left. He had a pulse when I got him into the car, but it was weak. He... he may be dead for all I know and fuck, I'm not okay with that..."

"Pol, you need to calm down," Pete says softly. "It's going to be okay, you hear me? He's gonna be alright. He's one of the toughtest men I know. So stop thinking. It's definitely not helping."

"It's just-"

"No, and whatever you might want to say? Just keep it for when he comes around. Okay? Call me when you get there."

"Yeah."

"Pol."

"Yeah, alright. I'll call you."

"And... ?"

"Stop thinking. I got it the first time, Pete."

"Just in case you forgot."

"Right... See you."

"See ya."

Then Pol hears a "Vegas, what the f-" and suddenly the line is cut off.

He doesn't move or says anything for a while, but the silence becomes too much and he feels the need to fill it.

"Vegas came to help... Can you imagine? That sadistic bastard helping us... Well, more like helping Pete." Pol mumbles, looking in the rearview mirror from time to time. "He saved my life. I'm not sure if I should be grateful or scared. I owe him, big-time." He doesn't know what comes into him but in a flash, Pol hits the steering wheel quite violently. "Fuck, Arm. Talk. Open your damn eyes. Can you at least hear me?" Regret washes over him the second he explodes. "I can't believe I'm doing this... I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. I should have been there for you sooner. If you die...” Don't you dare die on me.

The Anakinn residence comes into sight, imposing and in complete darkness except for the lights on the front facade.

Next to it, Dr. Top's house lies. It kinda looks like a cabin and it has all the comodities and necessities but if he lives there is basically because it is in his contract. Other than that, he comes and goes at will. No questions asked.

Getting out of the car Pol opens the back door to take Arm out. He doesn't even care about leaving the car open since it's not his and carries Arm bridal style towards the house. The entrance light turns on before he reaches the wooden door and it opens, showing the doctor in silky maroon pajamas. He's the definition of tall, dark and handsome. That's probably why Boss Tankhun and Vegas' brother Macao are head over heels for the man.

"Sleeping, Doc?"

The man smirks for a microsecond and urges Pol to get inside. "Leave him on the dining room table." He quickly follows the orders. It was like someone had told the doctor that they were coming because the table was clearly prepared for an emergency. Leaving him there, Pol steps back. That's when he takes a moment to evaluate Arm's state by himself. He's too damn pale. But other than that he looks like he's sleeping.

"Can you tell me what happened to him?" The doctor asks while checking Arm for vitals and shining a light into his eyes.

"I don't really know. I wasn't even close when it happened." Pol explains. "But I guess he was hit with some kind of weapon or thrown against something..." He stops talking, swallowing hard when he notices that his voice is breaking.

"It must be a concussion... Has he been unconscious the whole time?"

So I was right. Pol nods, not trusting his voice just yet.

"I'm gonna need you to be vocal, Pol. Get yourself together and talk."

"Y- yeah, he's been like that since I found him lying on the ground."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Pol clenches his fists. Son of a...

"Okay, you can wait outside. Drink some water. Eat something. Do whatever you want, but get out of my sight."

"What? No-"

"Yes, Pol. You're making me uncomfortable, and you don't want Arm to suffer the consequences, right?"

Frowning and still with his fists clenched, he barks a resounding negative, storming out of the dining room after glancing at Arm for a brief second.

If he lets himself get carried away and closes the door with more force than necessary nobody can really blame him.

Pol doesn't know how much time he spends sitting on that awfully orange colored sofa, but he's been dozing off for a while, his eyes opening and closing non-stop.

But he knows he obviously lost the battle when he's startled awake by a hand shaking him. His own grabs that hand determined to get it off him in the worst way possible but he's promptly stopped by a familiar voice calling his name. "Pol, it's me."

Pete's delicate face welcomes him when he opens his eyes. "Pete. You're here." Surprise follows and he sits upright. "Why are you here? I thought you were with V-"

"He dropped me off and went back to work. He's got some unfinished business to attend..."

"Yeah, I can only imagine." Pol snorts, running a hand through his hair and clearing his throat. He feels it scratchy, like something got stuck there.

"Have you drank or ate anything? I don't want to be that person but you look bad..." And it must be true when his friend is looking at him in such a worrisome way. He doesn't even get upset for not having called him.

"I just can't... I feel like throwing up every time I think about it. Arm..." The reality hits Pol in that exact moment he remembers why he's in the state he is in. "Fuck. Arm. Pete, how is he? Do you know? Has the doctor talked to you? Is Arm... ?"

"Stop. Man, you're freaking out and that's not going to help either of you," Pete tries to calm Pol, taking his hands between his. "He's alive. He's fine. But he's not waking up. Dr. Top said that it'll probably take some more time for him to come to his senses. He also said that he's suffering from a severe concussion and that he's lucky he has no brain damage. So it's just a matter of time until he..."

"I want to see him." Pol declares, getting up in such a rush that it desestabilizes him for a second.

"You're going to hurt yourself even more. So stubborn..." Pete mutters, frowning while holding him by the elbows. "Has Dr. Top checked you up? Ah, don't bother answering. I already know what you're gonna say. Sit, for fuck’s sake."

"I need to see him," Pol almost begs. He just wants to see with his own eyes that Arm is alive. Is that so hard to understand?

"No, it's not." It's almost as if his friend had read his thoughts but he just said it aloud. "You know, it should have come as a surprise... but it just makes perfect sense. You are always together, and don't let me get started with those meaningful stares and little touches... Say, when you do you think it all started?"

"What do you mean?" He's still not ready to admit it out loud. Not if he can help it. So he chooses to play dumb instead.

Too bad Pete doesn't think the same.

"When did you fall in love?"

"You're being more nosy than usual..."

"I'm just curious."

"Should I ask you the same then? About you and that... man?" Pol answers back, quite forcefully.

Pete stills for a moment, with his eyes being the only thing giving him away. "I guess I deserved that one."

Feeling bad, Pol quickly backpedals. "No, I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk about it. It's not the moment nor the place."

"You're right," Pete shrugs sending him a tiny smile. "But don't think this is over."

"Oh, trust me. If I know you, and I think I do quite well, I just know you're not dropping it out anytime soon."

"Just delaying it. Because you look awful and I pity you."

Pol can barely contain a laugh. Pete is that good. He's a ray of sunshine among the darkness that lives within them. Even when he's had it really bad himself. Being a ball of happiness is his greatest charm.

"Okay, jerk, now make yourself useful and take me to him."

“Methinks you should ask nicely,” Pete pouts, obviously faking being upset.

“Well, me thinks you're being ridiculous.”

“Ah, you're no fun...” Sighing, Pete puts an arm around Pol's waist, and he instinctively puts his right arm around Pete's shoulder as support. "Alright then, I'll take you to your lover boy. He's rocking the Sleeping Beauty look, let me tell you."

"I'm telling him once he wakes up."

"Oh yeah? Then I'll tell Boss Tankhun to punish you later.

Pol snorts. "As if I hadn't had enough beatings for two lifetimes..."

"At least you weren't almost killed like a million times. Those guys were ruthless. The bullets kept coming and I thought I was a goner."

"You don't know the half of it," he mutters shaking his head, remembering how Vegas had saved his ass. Probably the same way he had saved Pete's if you think about it.

It seems like while Pol was asleep Dr. Top had moved Arm from the dining room to the guest room that was next to the kitchen and the toilet. Not by himself, of course, but with Pete's help.

The bedroom is neither big nor small, and it looks cozy with that warm wall decor paper beige colored with golden motifs. There are some paintings and portraits here and there, and a wardrobe in the bottom right corner, not too far from the full sized bed.

Arm lies there, still a bit too pale but he doesn't look like he's dying anymore. Pete was right in his Disney comparison and Pol cracks a smile.

"Whistle if you need me. I'll be in the living room." Pete interrupts his train of thought and he just nods, following his friend with his gaze as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

Turning around, Pol walks to the bed and sits on the right edge, facing Arm. His hand moves before he can think about it and he places it over Arm's heart. His heartbeat is steady and Pol closes his eyes to calm himself. They're both safe and together. Together... As if the touch was burning him he removes his hand from Arm's chest.

"I'm going crazy... There's no other explanation." Pol sighs, running a hand through his hair as a nervous gesture. "You really need to wake up, Arm. That doctor freaks me out and I don't like the thought of you spending the night here. I want us to go home."

It's right then when Pol notices that Arm's hand is palm up on the sheets in a clear invitation. After clenching and unclenching his fist a few times, he closes the distance and grabs Arm's hand with his own, lacing their fingers. He's almost tempted to kiss the back of his hand, but what he does is leaning towards Arm to whisper in his ear in a soft tone: "Are you going to leave me hanging? I didn't peg you as a cruel man..."

At first Pol thinks it's his brain playing tricks on him or maybe a muscle reflex but when it happens again it makes him lose his breath. Something is squeezing his hand. Leaning back a little, he looks into Arm's chocolate eyes, unblinking. Awake at last.

"We're even then, because neither I pegged you as a romantic man..." His voice sounds extremely hoarse but it's like music to Pol's ears.

Wetting his lips, he smiles from ear to ear. "Ass."

This time, neither of them smile in solitude.

~~o~~

Hi!

Writing this second oneshot was a challenge. It almost killed me, haha. But it was fun and I loved writing it. So worth it!

I hope you guys like it ^^

Here’s the first ArmPol oneshot I wrote. This one is a continuation. Kind of~

I’ll probably write a third one (last?) and maybe a Vegas/Pete spin-off!

Now go give the teaser for the series some love.

Thank you! <3

~Aeriel

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #polarm #armpol #jobbas #basjob #fanfiction #my creations

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