[Fic] taste the sugar in my veins (The Attic - A.M. Burrage)
- Fandom: The Attic - A.M. Burrage
- Pairing: Stanley Forbes/Derek Wilson
- Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Whump
- Word-Count: 812
- Status: Complete
- First Published: 2024-12-01
- Disclaimer: I do not own The Attic - A.M. Burrage and make no profit from this—it is solely a hobby for fun, with no financial compensation.
Summary:
By the time Forbes heard of the accident, Derek had already been at the hospital for two days. It was a clean break, Telford told Forbes late in the eve as Forbes sat on the edge of the couch in the sitting room, eyes wide and panic building in his chest. "Really," Telford added when Forbes didn't say anything for far too long; "Derek is young and healthy---the accidental was a terror, of course, and the break is unfortunate, but he'll make a full recovery. Everybody is quite sure of it."
Notes:
Written for Whumpcember 2024 - Day 1: Broken Bones
Work Text:
By the time Forbes heard of the accident, Derek had already been at the hospital for two days. It was a clean break, Telford told Forbes late in the eve as Forbes sat on the edge of the couch in the sitting room, eyes wide and panic building in his chest. "Really," Telford added when Forbes didn't say anything for far too long; "Derek is young and healthy---the accidental was a terror, of course, and the break is unfortunate, but he'll make a full recovery. Everybody is quite sure of it."
"Is that so," was all that Forbes could say in the end, hands fisted in his lap and breathing unsteady as he swayed on the seat, eyes unseeing.
Telford seemed to shrug, in the corner of Forbes' vision. "Just so, old thing. You have nothing to worry about."
"I---" Forbes could not think of something to say, and so said nothing at all. Telford stood, and he patted Forbes' shoulder, and Forbes sank in on himself a little. Telford said not another word for a moment, allowing Forbes to simply sit there and inhale the news.
"Just an accident," said Telford after a handful of minutes, and took his hand back. "But you know, Derek is going to need quite a bit of support while he recovers, with that leg of his. And my house has all these stairs, you know. You know." And then Telford winked.
Forbes looked up at him. "I will of course help any way I can," he offered, for it was quite clear where Telford was going with it, and Telford grinned. And so it was that Forbes opened the door to his home for Derek early the following morning, the hospital having no interest in Derek remaining. For he was young and healthy, and it was a clean break, and he got to the hospital just minutes after the accident, having only been a streets away when the car nudged his bike and sent him careening into a tree.
"This is quite nice," Derek said as he hopped into the hallway, one arm around Forbes' shoulders, eyes wide as he looked around. He had recently taken something for the pain, Forbes had been told, and his cheeks were just the slightest bit flushed. His hand dug into Forbes' for support, and he leaned almost his entire weight on him when Forbes helped him remove his outwear.
"Thank you," said Forbes, low and morose, for he could not help the pain that ached through him at the sight of Derek hurt so, and he frowned.
Derek looked at Forbes from below his pretty eyelashes, and he smiled. "Thank you," he said, and Forbes' heart hurt, so full of warmth at the closeness, the touch, the tangible connection between them, and yet so full of pain at the thought of Derek's unfortunate. It was not fair, he thought. Derek had paid any dues he might possibly ever owe any man, and he ought not to be so burdened ever again.
It was not fair.
"Be careful," murmured Forbes as he helped Derek sit upon the couch, stretched out along the length of it, both legs upon it. Derek caught Forbes' hand before he could stand back, and of course, Forbes squeezed it, sat down gingerly on the very edge of the couch, the cushion still dipping beneath his weight and sliding them closer together.
Derek is warm against him, a furnace in the late autumn cold, and Forbes' breath hitches in his throat. "I do know you do not need to do this for me, old boy," said Derek, then, and his voice was a siren call, his fingers soft and fine and somewhat calloused in Forbes' hand. He looked deep into Forbes' eyes and spoke, "You ought not to make light of your great heart."
"You are a remarkable thing," breathed Forbes, and bent his head, resting his forehead upon Derek's. He could feel the shaking breaths of Derek below him, could feel the hint of warmer air skimming his neck, and he held his breath, eyelashes fluttering. "I will always help you, of course," he murmured, and only by the startled inhale of Derek was he sure that Derek heard him. "You need not even ask. I am frightfully yours, I fear," he said, and could not even be sorry about his plain confession, for the fear had not yet settled, and the thought of loss burned through him still.
"Me too, old thing. Me too," whispered Derek, and they sat there for hours, close and breathing and holding on, until at last the threat of hunger drove Forbes' to call upon his valet. For he could not leave Derek alone; not now, and not ever again, but he did not fear it.
Only that Derek might need something that Forbes could not provide.
Series this work belongs to:
- Part 1 of Whumpcember 2024