Whumptober Prompt #18- Alt. Prompt #2- Broken Voice

Whumptober Prompt #18- alt. Prompt #2- Broken Voice

Yooo!  Here’s more ColdFlash!  You guys really seem to like that one.  I was gonna do muffled scream but broken voice demanded to be done instead. Enjoy!

One last thing- this was heavily inspired by You Make Me Swoon by Crimson1 on AO3- it’s great piece go read it!

...

Barry stumbled into his apartment, dizzy and unstable.  He hadn’t even been able to get his keys into his locks, instead having to vibrate himself through the door to get in the apartment.  He needed food or he was going to pass out again.  He’d already flashed in and out of consciousness fighting the Rogues, unable to truly put in any effort into stopping their bank robbery.  Honestly, he was sure the bank was insured so it didn’t make too much of a difference to the speedster right now.  Right now, he was only focused on food, any food he could find.  His shaky hands pulled at the cabinets, finding nothing in them.  Living as a superhero didn’t exactly bring home the bacon, and his CSI’s salary was barely enough to keep him paying his rent and student loans on time.  He sometimes had to skip meals because he couldn’t afford them, and now he was drastically paying for it.  His cabinets were empty, his fridge was empty- wait!  One jar of grape jelly.  He didn’t care that he couldn’t make a sandwich, didn’t care that he didn’t have any toast, he just ripped off his glove and shoved his fingers into the jar.  But his hands were shaking, and he couldn’t control what was left of his strength, and the jar shattered on the floor.

Barry sank to his knees, uncaring about the glass, as tears streamed down his face.  His body screamed out for food.  He wanted to call Joe, call Cisco, call anyone for help, to get him some food but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything but lay on the floor and cry.

Distantly, he heard footsteps, and something opening the locks on his front door.  He didn’t even have the strength to lift his head.  He really hoped that was Joe or Iris, because he couldn’t think of anyone else who had keys to his apartment.

The door swung open to reveal Leonard Snart, not dressed in his parka but Barry couldn’t see his cold gun from the floor.  That didn’t mean he didn’t have it on him though.

“Scarlet?”  Snart’s voice so far off he may as well have been in the next city.  “Scarlet!”

Snart ran over to him, and he felt fingers pressing into his neck.

“Come on, Scarlet, say something.”  Snart muttered.  “What do you need?”

“-ood.”  Barry tried to say but he had no strength left to say it with.

“What?”  Snart frowned at him, an uncharacteristic look on unease on his face.  If Barry had been in a better mind, he would’ve called it fear.

“Food.”  Barry gasped out.  “Only had… jelly… gone.”

Snart looked around, saw the shattered jelly jar, his last vestiges of hope lying broken on the floor.  Then, he grabbed Barry under his arms and hauled him to his feet.  Barry’s legs were unable to stand on their own so he crashed into Snart, who readjusted his hold on Barry.  Kidnapping wasn’t on Barry’s list for things to do today, but he resigned himself to it.  There was nothing he could about it now.

Surprisingly though, Snart gently set him down on the couch.

“Stay here, Scarlet.  I’ll be right back.”

In his mind, Barry questioned if Snart was blind, clearly he couldn’t go anywhere under his own power.  Soon after Snart left, though, Barry’s thoughts became fuzzy as he drifted in an out of consciousness.  He was almost sure that what had happened had been a hypoglycemic dream when someone with a deep, dry voice shook him.

“Scarlet, wake up.  Come on, dammit, wake up.”

Barry blinked, the blurry light eventually taking the shape of Leonard Snart.  He realized Snart was holding a glass of orange juice in front of Barry’s lips.  He opened his mouth and Snart helped him drink the juice.  Once the glass was finished, Snart carefully fed him some yogurt that Barry could barely taste.  For one heartbeat, or ten minutes, Barry wasn’t sure, Snart just carefully fed him food that he somehow produced in a way that Barry’s hypoglycemic mind couldn’t process.

The more Barry ate, the more human he began to feel, the more he could perceive his surroundings.  Snart was sitting on his battered coffee table, carefully distributing his weight, with used wrappers and a jug of orange juice beside him.  The thief wore a blank expression, but Barry saw the fear in his eyes.  Snart then reached over and put his ungloved hand on Barry’s forehead.

“No fever.”  He muttered.  “Then what the hell is this?  Starvation?”

“What are you doing here?”  Barry asked, finally finding the strength to speak again.

“So it lives.”  Snart chuckled, avoiding the question.  “And here I thought I had lost my nemesis to malnutrition.”

Barry frowned at Snart.

“What are you doing here?”  He repeated.  “Why are you helping me?”

Snart snorted.  “I don’t have the kind of dirt on anyone else as I do you.  I’m merely keeping our business relationship intact.”

“Screw off, Snart.”  Barry groaned.  “I don’t want your pity and I don’t need your help.”

“I think that’s where you and I disagree, Scarlet.”  Snart said.  “You’re bleeding, and I doubt you can stand on your own.  Help isn’t my strongest suit, but I’m willing to make an exception in this very unusual case.”

“I can stand.”  Barry said, and made to do just that.

Snart cocked an eyebrow at him.

Barry stood.  For all of two seconds before his legs gave and Snart had to help him back down to the couch.

“I think that proves my point, Scarlet.”  Snart chuckled, obviously amused at his expense.

“Go home.”  Barry sighed.  “I don’t have the energy to deal with you.”

“Here, drink some more OJ.”  Snart poured him another glass.  “It’ll help.”

This time, Barry was able to hold the glass himself, though his hands were still so shaky that Snart held onto the glass just in case.  Barry would never admit it, but he was grateful the man had decided to help instead of taking advantage of the situation.

“I feel like shit.”  Barry admitted, feeling so miserable that he could even admit it to Snart of all people.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you curse.”  Snart chuckled dryly.

“I try to censor myself in the suit.”  Barry said.  “Set a good example for anyone who’s listening.”

“Isn’t that sweet?”  Snart smirked.  “Gotta be a hero even kids can look up to.”

Barry rolled his eyes.  “You never answered my question.”

“You never answered mine.”  Snart responded.  “What is this?  What’s wrong with you?”

“My metabolism goes so fast it requires so many more calories and my blood sugar can drop in an instant.”  Barry explained.  Snart already knew his weakness to cold and his identity.  How could telling him this be any worse?  “I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, I got home so late from Flash business last night I overslept.  Was almost late to work.  Skipped lunch, there were three new unsolved murders on my desk and they were all marked priority.  Couldn’t eat dinner because of you.  That’s been my day for the last three weeks.  Only a matter of time before I ran out of energy completely.”

Snart pursed his lips.  “I’ll be sure to schedule my heists after dinner time then.”

Barry shoved at Snart, unbalancing the man but not knocking him off the coffee table.

“Fuck off, Snart.  I don’t need your bullshit.”

Snart rolled his eyes.  “And you say helping people is its own reward.”

“Why are you here, dammit?”  Barry snapped.  His fuse was always short when he was hungry and his stomach was still rumbling, though Barry seemed to have gone through everything Snart had bought or stolen from the twenty-four hour grocery store down the street.  If Barry had been thinking more clearly, he would’ve stopped there before coming home.

“Because I wanted to be the hero tonight.”  Snart teased.  “Thought it might be a fun change of pace.”

“No!”  Barry’s voice broke and blood rushed to his cheeks but he was too tired, too spent, too angry to stop and be truly embarrassed.  “No one stops to help me, dammit.  Everyone in this goddamn city takes and takes and takes and posts about it on social media and no one ever even asks if I’m okay!  I’m the Hero of Central City and sometimes I’m just so goddamn done!”

It wasn’t until Snart had reached over with a tissue that Barry realized he’d been crying.

“You’re still bleeding.” Snart said, thankfully avoiding Barry’s outburst.  “Let me get some tweezers.”

“In the bathroom, in the basket on top of the toilet.”  Barry replied.  “They’re somewhere in there, just gotta look through the hair bobs, combs, and the nail clippers.”

Snart raised an eyebrow.

“My sister stays over here a lot.”  Barry explained.  “It’s just easier to have these things instead of her constantly forgetting them.”

Snart nodded, and Barry knew he understood, having a sister of his own.  Snart returned a minute later with some tweezers and a small plate that came from Barry’s cupboard.

“Let me at your shoulder.”  Snart said, gesturing to Barry’s left shoulder.

Barry shifted as best as he could in the suit to give Snart easier access.  Snart dutifully started tugging at the glass embedded in Barry’s skin.

“Look, Snart, about what I said-”

“Len.”

“What?”  Barry frowned.

“Call me Len.”  Snart replied.  “Within the past hour, I’ve pulled you off your floor, fed you, and now I’m pulling glass out of you.  Least you can do in return is call me by my name.”

“Len, then.”  Barry tested the name out.  Surprisingly enough, it rolled right off his tongue.  “About what I said-”

“You don’t have to explain, Barry.”  Sna-Len said, using his own name for the first time.  It felt almost strange yet so very familiar.  “You don’t have to convince me that being a hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“It’s just so damn hard.”  Barry’s voice broke again, but this time he couldn’t be bothered to care.  Tears streamed freely down his cheeks but he carried on.  “People want to be saved and they’re grateful but everyone expects to be saved, all the time, and I’m just one person.  I’m only one Flash, and I’ve got this Man in Yellow and the Rogues, and it feels like every week there’s a new villain who wants to kill me.  And there’s the natural shit, fires from faulty wiring, muggers, and everything else that just normally happens in a city.  I can’t keep up with it.  There’s just so much.”

Barry dissolved into tears as Len silently pulled out the pieces of glass in his shoulder.  The only sounds for a little while was the clinking of the glass on the plate and Barry’s sobs.

“Should I be concerned that I counted twelve cuts when I first started and now I only count nine?”  Len said, breaking the silence.

Barry shook his head.  “I-hic-I heal fast.  One of the perks.”

“So because this heals in a matter of minutes, your metabolism needs what… five, six thousand calories a day?”  Len asked, pressing some gauze from Barry’s first aid kit into the wounds.  Barry almost couldn’t believe Snart’s gentle touch.

“More like ten thousand.”  Barry said.  “I’m always hungry and I never have enough money for food.  Rent and student loans are hard enough, let alone something nice at the grocery store.  And it’s not like being the Flash pays.”

Len wisely kept a comment Barry could see coming to himself.

“That’s why there’s no food in this house?”  Len asked.

Barry nodded.  “I’m always hungry.  I can never keep up with my stomach.”

“I see.”  Len nodded thoughtfully.  “Just to double check, your full name is Bartholomew Henry Allen right?”

Barry nodded slowly, unsure.

“Just checking.”  Len winked and Barry felt like he’d been had in some way.  “You should get some rest.  I’ll grab you a change of clothes from your room.”

Len headed into his bedroom, somehow knowing where it was in his apartment.  Though, given Cold’s obsession with time and control, it made sense.  Len probably hadn’t followed him here, probably just knew where his apartment was, like he knew Barry’s full name.

With practiced ease, Barry started to slip out of the suit.

Len came back with one of Joe’s old t-shirts that Barry wore as a sleep shirt and some pajama bottoms.  Len turned his back as Barry changed into them.  Then without another word, he grabbed Barry by his right arm, slung it over his shoulder and led Barry into his bedroom, setting him down on the bed.

“Be right back.”  Len muttered, almost to himself.  Barry used that time to get comfortable.  Len returned with a glass of water.  “OJ’s in the fridge, and I set some of the yogurt in there too for you tomorrow.”

By this point, Barry was completely fine with Len helping, even though it was one of the strangest nights Barry had ever had, and he was counting when he was in college and one of his dorm-mates drunkenly barged into his room to have him sing “Happy Birthday” to someone he had never met.  To this day, he still wasn’t sure who he had sung it to.

“Thank you, Len.”  Barry said, settling down.  “I mean it.  Thanks.  You didn’t have to do this.”

“Let’s just keep it our little secret and you’ll be fine.”  Len said, the edge of a threat in his voice.  It hadn’t worked as the man had wanted it to.  He didn’t have to say it out loud though.

“Still.  Thanks.”  Barry said, sleep already pulling him down.

Len nodded, and turned off the light.

“You never answered my question though.”  Barry mumbled, half-asleep already.  “Why were you here?”

“That’s a question for another day, Scarlet.”  Len whispered.

He wasn’t sure if he’d dreamed it or not, but Barry did have the distinct feeling of a gentle hand brushing the strands of his hair back and soft lips pressed to his forehead before he tumbled down into sleep.

(What he didn’t dream though was the next week, a letter came saying that his student loan paperwork had been lost and he was no longer liable to pay the loans.  He bought himself six large pizzas to celebrate.)

...

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087476

Whumptober Prompt #28- Beaten

This is my last story that’s not back on track with the Michael!whump in my Villainous verse (better title still in progress).  This should be the last bit that focuses on Michael and Fayelin’s backstory, and after this, we’ll continue with our regularly scheduled whump story.  I’ve got some good stuff planned for Michael and Endeavor returns and... I don’t want to spoil it :)

@winedark-whump This is the one I’ve been dying to show you!  I’m so excited.  Okay, here we go.

.......

A crash in another woke Michael from his light sleep.  He sat up slowly, trying not to put any stress on the nothingness that was his left arm.  Arrow had patched him up, crying the entire time. She had sobbed apologies, both fully coherent and utterly nonsensical.  He could barely acknowledge her, whether it was from the drugs she had snuck for him or the grief that overwhelmed him, he wasn’t entirely sure. He did remember her saying since it was her fault that everything had happened the way it did, the least she could do was make sure he had a place to stay, saying he could crash at his place until he was strong enough to move.  He hadn’t really responded to her, unable to form words of reassurance or defiance.  Mostly, he had just wanted to go back to sleep, where he could pretend that his fiance wasn’t dead, where he still had both of his arms, and where he wasn’t crashing in a Heroes apartment.  That had been a week ago.

A hard thump followed the crash.  That concerned him, Arrow had said that no other Heroes knew where she lived as it was against their policy to reveal information that could potentially be tortured out of someone.  Once he was upright, he put his feet on the cold floor.  Her apartment wasn’t much really, it was just a bedroom with no furniture except a mattress, a kitchenette, and a bathroom, with no carpeting, or even drapes on the window (she had told him, embarrassed, while working, that she used foil in order to trap the heat in winter) so he knew it wouldn’t be robbers.  Who would rob somewhere on the bad side of town, with no drapes, and foil on the windows?  Absolutely no one, and he was sure of it.

So he made his way into the kitchen, grabbing first the baseball bat underneath her bed.  He knew she had one, all girls who lived on this side of town did.  He didn’t have the strength to charge it up but, in a pinch, he could do some damage with it.  He toed open the door, and dropped the bat.  Arrow was spread out across the floor, fallen pots and pans from the stove around her.

“I told you we could just share the bed.”  Michael joked listlessly.  “You don’t have to sleep on the kitchen floor.”

A watery chuckle was his reply.

“Don’t think I could move even if you wanted me to.”

Michael frowned.  Arrow then shifted, lifting her head up with great effort, and horror flashed through his veins.  Arrow’s face was badly beaten, eyes almost swollen shut, blood everywhere, lips split and cracked, and her nose looked broken.  It had taken him a moment to see that Arrow was even under what was left of that face.

With a burst of adrenaline, he grabbed her shirt with his good arm and dragged her over to the bed he’d just been sleeping on.  She didn’t protest the entire time.

“You weren’t this beat up the last time I saw you.”  Michael said.  “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Arrow replied.

“It matters.”  Michael insisted, latching onto the first emotion he’d felt in days.  “Did they give you another mission?  Did someone hurt you because of the Explosion?”

Arrow flinched.  “Just drop it, okay, it doesn’t matter!”

“It matters!”  Michael shouted.  Arrow flinched again, tears welling up in her eyes, and he forced himself to calm down.  “Please, who did this to you?”

The dam burst and Arrow dissolved into tears.  Michael sat on the bed beside her.

“I thought they were my friends.”

“What?”  Michael asked in horror but Arrow misunderstood.

“I thought they were my friends!”  She shouted.  “I trusted them!  They said I was no different from the very criminals I hunted!”

Michael just stared at her.  Arrow choked back her tears as best as she could.

“I killed your Mirror.”  She whispered, as if admitting it aloud were physically painful to her.  Knowing her ethics, it probably did. “It was an accident but it still happened.  And I blew off your arm, and I brought you to my own fucking apartment, and they screamed at me for not capturing you!”

A pit of dread crept into Michael’s veins.

“I didn’t tell them you were here.”  Arrow sighed, noticing Michael’s discomfort.  “They called me a traitor.  Said Killian’s death changed me too much.  Wait- fuck!  You know what?  I don’t care.  Yes, Soldier’s name was Killian.  I’m a traitor anyway, may as well stop fighting it.”

In a move he never could’ve predicted, Arrow took off her blood-stained mask, revealing the very young face underneath it.

“You’re just a kid.”  Michael breathed.

Arrow shrugged.  She slowly sat up to match his posture, wincing.

“Look, Arrow-”

“Fayelin.”

“Excuse me?”  Michael asked.

“You’ve seen me without my mask, you’re staying in my shitty ass apartment, and you know Killian’s name, so you may as well know mine. My name is Fayelin.  Fayelin Skye.”

“Michael Winters.”  Michael stuck his hand out on instinct.

Arr-Fayelin shook it easily.

“I’m sorry.”  She whispered.

“I know.”

“No, I mean, fuck, I am so, so sorry for what happened.”  Fayelin tentatively wiped away her fresh tears.  “You lost someone more important to you than your own life and it’s all my fault and I’m so, so sorry for that in a way I can’t put into words.  But that’s not what this one was about.”

She turned to face him, grunting as she shifted, clearly trying to work through the pain.

“I’m sorry I believed them.”

Michael frowned, confused.

“I’m sorry I believed their lies.  I’m sorry I let them brainwash me into thinking you were basically subhuman.  I’m sorry I thought that all of your kind was the same and couldn’t be trusted, and because of that mistrust you lost someone you loved.  I thought none of your kind was capable of real love.  Seeing what you’re going through, I know now how truly wrong I was.  I let them twist me up to be as bad as they were and I was proud of it.  To have my own kind turn against me for the wrong reasons, I’m… I just can’t.  I was wrong in what I did but what they’ve done to me just confirms everything you Villains have been saying for years.  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I was apart of that system.  I have done horrible things to you, I will never stop apologizing for that.  I’m going to try for the rest of my life to wipe out the red in my ledger.  I wish I could’ve seen sooner, what they were doing to me, what I was turning myself into.  I’m sorry I let my grief after Killian turn me into a weapon of propaganda and destruction for them.  I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I’ll never ask that of you, what I did was unforgivable.  I just… I just need you to know that I’m sorry.  For everything.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“Look, Fayelin, you fucked up.  You fucked up in a way that can’t be undone.  And it hurts,  it’ll always hurt… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you… I don’t even know if I’ll ever want to forgive you… but maybe, just maybe… we can fight against their lies together.  We can fight against their fucked up system… so it never happens again.  Not to me, or anyone else.”

… 

“I’m in.”

Whumptober Prompt #19- Asphyixiation

...

“Are you cooking?”  Len’s voice startled him, making him nearly drop the spoon he was using to plate.

Barry rolled his eyes at him, showing his progress. He’d been able to create a grilled chicken masterpiece, only slightly burned, with an asparagus rice pilaf on the side right under Len’s nose.  Granted, the man had been napping but it still counted.

Len raised an eyebrow at him, expecting an answer.

“I wanted to do something nice for my partner.”  Barry shrugged, trying to stamp down his blush.

“And instead you cooked?”

Barry glared at him.

Len snickered, uncaring.

“I’m not a bad cook.”  He defended himself.  “I was able to survive on my own before you started cooking for me.”

Len almost never shared the kitchen, a remnant from his past, to be able to control everything that went into his body.  Barry understood that, but he did like cooking, even if his skills were rather limited in that area.

“You were living on instant ramen, microwavable meals, and protein bars when I met you, Barry Allen.”  Len said, unimpressed.  “You couldn’t cook to save your life.”

Barry frowned.  Len hadn’t known, couldn’t know, that Barry had no issues cooking but he hadn’t wanted to show Len just how much food he truly ate.  When they’d first met, he hadn’t been used to his powers, and kept everything of a high calorie count on hand, no matter how bad it was for him.  Now, he kept most of his caloric bars and extra food at STAR labs.  Caitlyn and Cisco didn’t mind, and understood his need to keep Len out of his life as the Flash.  He’d already ruined his friendship with Patty, he wasn’t going to ruin what he had with Len.  It was too important to lose.  His mother had once said true love only came knocking once, so he better answer the door.  And he was damn well answering Len’s knock.

“Well then, you’re just gonna have to try some.”  Barry said, holding out the spoon with some of the pilaf on it.  “After all, if my life depends on it…”

Len laughed, shoving his hand away.  “I don’t think it’s your life on the line here, Scarlet.”

Barry gaped, thoroughly offended.  “You bastard.”

Len’s smile made up for it though.  “Alright, Scarlet, finish up.  I’m gonna finish up my last project.  Meant to do it before I fell asleep.  Then I’ll brave dinner.”

Len leaned over and Barry met him in the middle, sharing a quick kiss.

“Dinner will be ready in five, you better be too.”  Barry said, smacking Len’s ass.  “Or I’m poisoning it on purpose.”

Len’s laugh echoed all around the kitchen as he went back into the living room.

Barry finished plating the chicken and pilaf as best as he could, stealthy watching a YouTube video on mute.  He had no sense of style but Len liked the more sophisticated stuff, his fancy job as an architectural engineer gave him plenty of cash on hand.  Barry would’ve thought it suspicious if he hadn’t met Len’s boss, a Captain Rip Hunter, a retired RAF.

Now with dinner finished and plated, Barry thought to himself that it looked pretty damn good overall.

“Lenny!”  Barry called.  “Dinner.”

“Coming, Scarlet!”  Len replied at the same volume.

Barry shook his head, thinking if only he knew that his partner was the Scarlet Speedster, instead of turning the color scarlet when blushing.  But he knew he had to keep Len in the dark, no matter how much Len hated lies.  Len couldn’t protect himself from the likes Thawne or Zoom so Barry had to do the protecting.

“Alright, Scarlet, let’s see what creature you’ve sewn together.”  Len said.  “I’ll try not to become deathly ill at the sight of it and grace you with a name.”

Barry rolled his eyes but his laughter bubbled up anyway.  He loved it when Len showed just how much of a nerd he was, it had taken him months to get past those walls.

Len cut into the chicken, admiring it.  “Not pink in the middle, promising sign.”

Barry stared with bated breath, watching Len try a bite.

“It’s good.”  Len smiled, looking impressed.

Barry couldn’t keep the sigh of relief inside him.  “I worked really hard on this.  This is my first time cooking for you on my own.  I wanted it to be perfect.”

Len’s eyes softened, and he took Barry’s hand.

“It’s not your fault I’m a control freak.”  Len sighed.

“You’re not a control freak.”  Barry protested.

Len raised an eyebrow in sarcastic disbelief.

“You’re not.”  Barry insisted.  “You had a rough time growing up, and you’ve got some defense mechanisms, some intense coping techniques, but you don’t try to control me.  You don’t say I can’t see Joe even though you don’t like him much, or that I can’t be friends with Cisco because he’s interested in your sister.  You like to control your surroundings, Len, you’re not a control freak.”

Len pulled him into a kiss, this one more passionate, more intimate.  He knew Len had a hard time letting down his walls, his abusive father, people who only pretended to care because it got them ahead, people who didn’t like Len’s love language, it had made Len very jaded and lonely.  Barry had been one of the only ones who understood why Len did the things he did, and didn’t judge him for it.  Len once told him that he’d never understood how someone as wonderful as Barry had put up with him for so long.  Barry hadn’t gone on patrol that night, thankfully Central City got along just fine without him, and had spent the night having a serious talk about how Len was the wonderful one and Barry was the problem in their relationship.  A lot of tears had been shed that night, on both accounts, and they’d come out nigh attached at the hip.  Barry had realized Len was knocking on his door, and he knew Len had realized the same.

“Scarlet, come back to me.”  Len said, already having pulled back.

Barry snapped out of his trance.  “Sorry.  Guess I got a little caught up in the moment.”

“We could always skip dinner.”  Len teased.  “I’m sure it’ll keep.  We could continue this in the bedroom.”

Barry shoved down all the ideas that came to his mind.

“No, I want a nice dinner with you.”  Barry said, clearing his throat and purging his mind.  “I put a lot of work into this and I’m not reheating it.”

“Then dinner it is.”  Len said, scooping up a bite of the pilaf.  “I would do anything if it made you happy, Barry Allen.”

A rush of feeling washed over Barry.  Len had made declarations of love like that before, but it always felt like the first time each time.  It always made Barry fall just a little more in love with Len.

A small gasp escaped Len’s lips.  Barry blushed, he couldn’t believe his first attempt at cooking for Len was going so well.  He couldn’t believe in the three years he’d been with Len he’d never cooked for the man.

“Scar- Scarlet?  What is this?”  Len cleared his throat, wiping his face with a napkin.

“Asparagus rice pilaf.”  Barry said, frowning at Len’s unusual mannerism.

Len pulled at his throat, clearly in discomfort.

“Are you okay?”  Barry asked, his own food abandoned.  He knelt beside Len.  “Lenny, what’s wrong?”

“Is- sesame seed?”  Len choked, unable to draw a full breath.

“I used some sesame seed oil.”  Barry guessed.  “Only a teaspoon.”

While the Flash may be what he loved most, he was still a CSI by day, and he knew anaphylaxis when he saw it.

“Do you have an Epi-Pen?”  Barry asked, his panic seeping into his voice.

Len shook his head.  “Know… how to… avoid.”

Len’s lips were turning blue, as well as the skin under his eye from lack of oxygen.  An ambulance wouldn’t get there in time.  Len needed medical help immediately or he was going to die.

So Barry did what he did best.  He scooped Len into his arms, and ran.

They arrived at the hospital within seconds, Len’s eyes realizing how they’d gotten there.

“Somebody please help, he’s dying!”  Barry shouted as they entered the ER.

The ER staff sprung into action, helping Len onto a gurney and a nurse fetching an Epi-Pen, slamming it into Len’s thigh.  With a gasp, Len’s breath returned to him.  The nurses wheeled him behind doors Barry wasn’t allowed into, leaving Barry to talk to the nurse now assigned to Len’s paperwork.  He explained dinner, saying that the Flash had noticed Len being unable to breath and whisked them both to the hospital.  He left out the part where Barry had been the cook, and implied the restaurant they had clearly been out had left out the sesame seed oil from the menu, making up a false name for the restaurant.

“He’s lucky Flash saw you, hon.”  The nurse said.  “An ambulance might’ve taken too long.  The Flash saves the day again.”

“Will he be okay?”  Barry asked, unashamed of the tears now running down his face.

“He should be.”  The nurse said.  “The Flash is pretty quick, he seems to have gotten here in time.”

Barry nodded and started to fill out the clipboard the secretary had given him.

“Are you next of kin?”  The secretary asked kindly when he gave it back.

“His sister but she’s in Coast City right now.”  Barry said, knowing Lisa had gone on an impromptu business trip for the Snart family business, needing to promote Len’s particular brand.  “I can call her.”

“Just write her number here.”  The secretary held out the form and Barry dutifully wrote down the number.  “Are you his husband?”

“Partner.”  Barry said.  Len hated calling Barry his boyfriend, said it made him feel like he was twenty again and he had long left the embarrassment of his twenties behind him.

The secretary nodded.  “Just listen for his name.”

Barry nodded and sat down, hugging himself so tight, if he didn’t have the healing factor he did, he would’ve left bruises.

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, “Family of Leonard Snart?”

Barry had to stop himself from flashing over there.  “I’m his partner, Barry Allen.”

“Well Mister Allen, you were very lucky Flash was there.  Leonard is going to be just fine.”  Barry nearly collapsed in relief.  “Now we’re going to keep him overnight, just in case, but the worst should be over.”

“Thank you.  Thank you so much.”  Barry shook the outstretched hand.

“I will be prescribing him an Epi-Pen after this, by the way.” The doctor added.  “The pharmacist will go over how to use it.”

“Can I see him now?”

The doctor nodded and began to lead him through the door.  “He’ll be very tired, the medication can often make a person drowsy, so don’t be afraid if he falls asleep.  This experience must’ve been very frightening for you.”

“I didn’t even see it at first, didn’t see it.”  Barry admitted.  “I’m a bad partner, I’m sure he knows all of my allergies.”

“Cut yourself a break, you’re not the first nor will you be the last.  You know now, that’s what matters going forward.”  The doctor stopped just outside of a “room” that had no doors, only curtains.

Barry nodded, thanked the woman, and headed “inside”, past the curtains.  Len lay sleeping in a flimsy hospital gown, bed raised up, nasal cannula wrapped around his face, an IV in his arm.  Barry sat down in the standard uncomfortable hospital chair, waiting for Len to wake up.  He didn’t have to wait long.

“Who knew I had you right on the money, Barry?”  Len mumbled, his eyes fluttering open.  “You did poison me.”

“I’m so sorry.”  Barry said, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks.  “I should’ve known, I should’ve been more careful.”

Len cupped Barry’s face gentler than he deserved, wiping away the tears.

“I didn’t tell you, it’s not your fault.”  Len said.  “I should’ve figured you’d get tired of me cooking all the time.”

“No, Len, don’t blame yourself.”  Barry said, scooting closer to his partner.  “You’re the one who could’ve died, and it would’ve been my fault.”

Len shook his head.  “You didn’t know.  I didn’t tell you.  Looks like we’ve both kept secrets from each other.”

Bary blushed, unable to meet Len’s eyes.

“I guess I really do know you, even if it’s subconscious.  My Scarlet Speedster.”  Len muttered.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ve already lost so much to being the Flash.”  Barry admitted.  “My mother was murdered by a man from the future because he hated who I was going to grow up to be, my father was wrongfully convicted of her murder and I still can’t see him unless it’s behind glass, and I can’t have a normal life anymore.  I was given these powers for a reason, Lenny, not because of random chance, but because I’m supposed to be the Hero of Central City, the Fastest Man Alive.  But because I have these powers, because I chose to put myself on the line, it puts everyone I love on the line too.  Cisco and Caitlyn, my STAR labs friends?  They’ve both been kidnapped by villains who are trying to get to me.  Captain Cold once threatened Cisco’s brother to get him to build another gun for him and I just… I couldn’t bring you into that world.  I couldn’t do that to you.  You trusted me, you were supposed to feel safe around me.  And how am I supposed to do that if I’m the Flash?”

Len stared at him, his face mostly blank with a small frown, processing Barry’s ramblings.

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you either.”  Barry continued when Len didn’t say anything.  “I trust you with my life, Lenny.  I just wanted… I just wanted you to keep yours, without any of my problems putting you in danger.”

Something slid across Barry’s hand.  Barry nearly jumped in shock, before he realized it was Len’s hand, intertwining with his.

“That’s a pretty good reason, I guess.”  Len muttered, his eyes straight ahead.  Barry squeezed his hand, giving Len time.  He had trouble making eye contact in difficult conversations, so Barry just let him stare ahead.  “I… never really considered what Flash’s family would go through for what he does.  I don’t think many people do.  Our society takes heroes for granted, thinking that they’ll always be there for us.  It’s easy to critique and praise from afar, but you’re right in the thick of it.  And now so am I.  And I’m… surprisingly okay with that.”

“What?”

“Scarlet, you’re the one.”  Len pressed on, squeezing Barry’s hand like a lifeline.  “You’re the one I want to wake up to in the morning, and the last thing I wanna see before I go to sleep at night.  You make me laugh, you make me cry, you put up with my bullshit, and I put up with yours.  You make me want to go ring shopping, Lisa called it.  I’ve never wanted that before in my life.  I’ve never had anyone stick with me this long, let alone live with me who wasn’t a desperate roommate or Mick, and Mick doesn’t count.  I’ll admit, I’m a little freaked out, and I’m gonna be mad you kept it a secret a little later down the line, but for right now, with what I want… I’m good being the Flash’s partner.  I want to be the Flash’s partner.”

Barry stared at Len in amazement, unable to process Len’s words.

“That is,” Len hesitated, “if you’ll still have me.”

“Marry me.”

Len whipped his head around.  Both of them were surprised, even though the words had come out of Barry’s mouth.  But he wasn’t taking them back now.  Len knew everything and still wanted him.

“I know this is probably the worst time to ask, I don’t even have a ring or a speech, but I’m not an idiot.  You can’t say something like that and not expect me to react.”  Barry then proceeded to kneel on the ground.  “I love you, Leonard Snart, more than anyone I’ve ever loved in my life.  You’re my true love, my soulmate.  Marry me.”

“I’m taking your last name.”  Len whispered, his voice barely audible.

Barry gave a watery chuckle.  “Excuse me?”

“I’m taking your last name.”  Len said, his chest heaving, tears in his eyes.  “Always hated Snart.”

Barry felt tears well up in his own eyes.  “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes.”  Len nodded.  “How could it be anything else?”

Barry laughed hysterically, emotionally exhausted with uncontainable ecstasy, the tears of happiness falling down his cheeks.  Even Len let a few tears slip.  Barry jumped up and kissed him, unable to control the heat and passion overflowing from the two of them.  Len pulled back sharply, coughing hard.

“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh, are you okay, I’m so sorry.”  Barry threw himself back.

“Water.”  Len gasped out, trying to get his coughing under control.  Barry grabbed the cup on the bedside table and held it up to Len’s mouth.  Len drank slowly, the strain on his lungs easing.  Once Len was able to breathe again, Barry set the water cup down.

“Maybe we should pick this back up when you’re not recovering from a near-death experience.”  Barry said, wiping at his eyes.

Len nodded listlessly, his body slumping against the bed.

“You’re exhausted.”  Barry maneuvered around the machines and tubes to lay down beside his fiancé, and didn’t that thought send a thrill down his spine.  He wasn’t entirely sure if the hospital would allow him to sleep beside Len but at the moment, he didn’t care.  “I’m not going anywhere.  Go to sleep.”

Len adjusted so his arm was wrapped around Barry’s shoulders, their legs were intertwined, and their foreheads were almost touching.  There wasn’t really room on the bed for two people but they made do.  They always had before.

“Goodnight my hero.”  Len mumbled, already half-asleep.  “My future husband.  Husband hero.”

Barry chuckled.  “Goodnight, my darling fiancé.  I love you.”

A soft snore was his only response.  Barry allowed himself one more small smile, but snuggling into his fiancé and slipping into sleep himself.

Attention writeblr, how do you guys deal when you get a comment that... disappoints. Like someone who didn’t need to comment that they didn’t like it, or if they’d properly read the tags they would’ve seen the thing they’re complaining about coming. I don’t want to be annoyed by this but I can’t help my thoughts always drifting back. Any suggestions?

Whumptober Prompt #23- Bleeding Out and Prompt #29- Numb

My wonderful readers, who I adore, I have bad news.  I’m sick, like really sick.  I’ve got a fever, nausea, tremors, weakness, fatigue, the whole shebang.  While I do have this one done, I know it feels kinda unfinished.  I can work on it later, when I’m not going to pass out by standing up.  So here’s some Lucifer

tw: suicide attempt, self hatred

...

Dying takes too long.  Having died before, Lucifer remembered bleeding out on the cold hard ground but he had only been shot in the stomach.  Now Azrael’s blade had torn up his skin, and the blood wasn’t flowing fast enough anymore.  He had had enough strength to hide the blade where humans wouldn’t find it but his brother or mother would, before he had collapsed behind the bar, savoring his last drink.  Time now felt so strange, almost like it was slowing down, but he knew Amenadiel wasn’t causing this.  He had thought for a moment that one of his other siblings had come but he had already slit his own wrists so there would be no need for them to get involved.  Revenge couldn’t be any sweeter than the knowledge that the great Devil himself, Lucifer Morningstar, has finally had the guts to punish the one person truly worthy of it.  The Apple, the rebellion, Hell, Uriel, it had all added up.  He was the only constant.  It had all been his fault.  Now the murderer, the rebel, the lost and scared little boy who had always desired far more than he was worth, was going to be erased from existence.  Maze, Chloe, the spawn, Doctor Linda, even Dan, they would have to learn how to live without him.  Not that that was hard, really, Dad had always said that Lucifer had more talent making messes than cleaning them.  He thought he could prove his father was wrong about him.  But He isn’t called the All-Knowing, All-Powerful Almighty for nothing, Lucifer supposed.  Why did he have to take so long to die?  Pain had faded a little while ago, now it was just a matter of waiting.  Waiting for this stupid humanesque form to finally bleed out and for the final punishment to end his damn bloody life.

The elevator dinged.

At least, he could’ve sworn he heard it do so.  He wanted to look over and see but he found he didn’t have the strength.  He apparently had lost the strength to open his eyes as well, he wasn’t sure when they had closed but they weren’t opening any time soon.

“Hey Lucifer, I have to go over some paperwork with you.”  It couldn’t be.  Anyone. Anyone else.  His mother, Amenadiel, Maze for bloody’s sake, but not him!

Dan walked around, Lucifer could hear his footsteps, and the barest hint of guilt settled into his stomach.  He may not have been the biggest fan of Detective Douche but he didn’t want the man to be the one to find him, slumped against the side of the bar in the dim light, bourbon glass that once held his last drink, blood staining his Prada.  They were just starting to develop a small rapport together.  After Dan fought off Azrael’s blade, Lucifer realized there was more to the human than he had first seen.  Dan had been so happy the last time he’d seen him.  But of course, Lucifer couldn’t even get his death right.  Always had to screw something up.

Dan’s step faltered.  “Damn it.  Lucifer!  Wake up!  How can you own a bar and pass out after, like, one drink?”  He was walking towards the bar, instead of back to the elevator.

Dan must’ve rolled him over because he moved, but he couldn’t feel Dan’s touch.

“Oh god!”  Dan shouted, and if Lucifer were more lucid he might’ve said the detective sounded scared, even terrified. The sound of removing clothing filled the air and then something pushed into his wounds and he felt the tiniest bit of pain.  That made no sense, the pain should’ve left him by now.

Detective Espinoza yelled into his radio, calling for an ambulance to Lux.

“Hold on, Lucifer, please, hold on.”

Now that was an idea!  Why didn’t he just let go?  Should’ve done it ages ago.  He gazed into the abyss, and jumped.

.............

Dan sighed.  He had no idea how he was supposed to tell Chloe.  They had gotten so close since Lucifer had first crashed into Chloe’s life.  Dan had been jealous, he’ll admit, anyone would be if someone like Lucifer crashed into their ex-wife’s life.  Especially since Dan still had feelings for Chloe, but he never would’ve suspected Lucifer would do something like this.

“I know you’re out there, Mister Sniper.  Shoot me!”

Lucifer’s words had been ringing in his head on a loop.  It had been a few weeks since Lucifer’s unbelievably stupid attempt at drawing out the killer in that case but now it felt like yesterday.  Dan paced around the hospital waiting room.  He had ridden in with the ambulance, using his badge to get in, as they tried to stabilize Lucifer, unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to answer many of their questions.  He knew Amenadiel could do a better job but he hadn’t arrived yet.  Dan had just been pacing, not calling Chloe, going over every interaction with Lucifer recently in his head.  The scars on his back, the trying to put a hit out on himself, admitting he hurt the people he loved most, the… the suicide attempt.  Stepping out in front of a murderous sniper.  He had just thought Lucifer was acting out, or just plain crazy.  He never would’ve guessed Lucifer was actively suicidal, not after the conversation they had.  All he had was flashes of it, he wasn’t sure why, but he knew he and Lucifer had squared a lot of their problems away.  He wondered how a man like that could go from character development to attempting to take his own life.

Biting the bullet, he dialed Chloe.

“Dan, what’s going on?”  Chloe’s voice was tinted with sleep.  “Another case?  Did they find the weapon?”

“Chloe, there’s been… you need to get to Good Samaritan.”  Dan said.  “It’s Lucifer.”

“What happened?”  Chloe asked, and he could hear her racing around the room, probably putting on shoes.  “Trixie’s asleep, I don’t want to leave her alone.”

“I went up to Lux for his statement after the case.”  Dan said.  “So he could corroborate the self-defense story?  I found him passed out… Chlo, his arms were all cut up.  He tried to kill himself.”

A shocked cry sounded over the phone.  “I’ll call Trixie’s sitter.  I’ll tell her it’s a family emergency.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.  Call Maze.  Do you have Amenadiel’s number?”

“I already called him.”  Dan said.  “He’s on his way now.”

“Okay.”  Chloe said.  “Call me the instant you get news.”

“I will,” Dan said, seeing the familiar face but with a terrified look he’d never seen on Amenadiel.  It was so unsettling, made Lucifer’s suicide attempt seem so much more real.  “Amenadiel’s here.  See you soon.”

“Dan!”  Amenadiel ran to him.  “Where is he?”

“In surgery.”  Dan said.

Amenadiel went to burst through the hospital doors but Dan just barely managed to hold him back.

“They won’t let you back there.”

“I need to see him!”  Amenadiel said, his voice sounding as terrified as Dan felt.

“Let the doctors do their jobs.”  Dan said.  “I wanna see him too, but if we go in there, we’ll just distract them from saving his life.”

Amenadiel deflated, and let Dan lead him back to the waiting room secretary.

“There is something you can do, though.”  Dan said, handing Amenadiel the same medical chart Dan was given before Lucifer’s surgery.  “Medical history.  They need it.”

Amenadiel stared at it.  “I don’t know the answer to these.”

“You don’t?”  Dan asked.

Amenadiel shook his head.  “No.  Many of these conditions, he’s never had before but, he’s never been this… sick before.”

Dan understood Amenadiel’s hesitation.  He couldn’t imagine it if a family member of his tried to commit suicide.

“Has he been acting unusual lately?”  Dan asked.  “Out of his normal character?”

Amenadiel thought for a while, as if carefully forming words.  “Our brother, Uriel, died.  Lucifer blames himself.  I wasn’t there, I don’t know the full story.”

“Oh my God, man, I’m so sorry.”  Dan pulled Amenadiel into a hug.  He knew Amenadiel wasn’t the biggest fan of physical touch but he figured the man could use a hug after losing one brother and being so terrified of losing another one.

Amenadiel surprised him by hugging back.  They stayed like that for a while.

“Chloe is going to be here as soon as she can.”  Dan whispered as Amenadiel finally pulled back.  “I was about to call Maze.”

Amenadiel nodded, and slumped into a waiting room chair.

Dan took that as his cue and called Maze.

“‘Sup, Douche?”  Maze laughed, she sounded like she was outside.  “Got anything for a bounty hunter?”

“Maze, do you know the hospital Good Samaritan?”  Dan said.

“Uh, no.”  Maze said, her entire tone changing to defensive.  “Why would I need to?”

“Get directions and get over here.”  Dan said.  “It’s Lucifer.”

Maze laughed.  “Lucifer, in a hospital?  That’s a good one.”

“Maze.”  Dan said, and Maze stopped laughing.  “They think he tried to kill himself.”

“He can’t.”  Maze said.  “There’s no way he can.”

“I found him, Maze.”  Dan said, the memory hitting him like a freight train.  He tried to choke back tears.  “You gotta get here now.”

“I’m on my way.”

Dan put his phone back in his pocket, finding that Amenadiel had gone back to staring at the hospital forms.  Dan sat next to him, seeing that Amenadiel had answered at least some of the questions.  It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Chloe arrived about forty minutes, followed quickly by Ella, who Chloe must’ve called on the way.

“How is he?”  Chloe asked, running to them.

“In surgery.”  Dan replied, giving the same answer he’d been given for the last hour.  “They’ll let us know when he’s out.”

“Did they tell you if he was gonna make it?”  Ella asked, looking almost like a frightened child.  In that moment, he was reminded of Trixie, safe at home in bed, blissfully unaware of the tragedy her family was dealing with.

“They said the outcome looked good but he lost a lot of blood by the time I found him.”  Dan replied, and Chloe burst into tears.  Dan pulled her into a hug, which Ella soon joined in.

“Where’s Maze?”  Chloe said, getting ahold of herself.

“On her way.”  Dan said.

Chloe nodded.  “I’m going to get us some coffee.”

“I’ll go with you.”  Dan said.  “Ella, this is Amenadiel, Lucifer’s brother.  Amenadiel, this is Ella, she works with us.”

Ella then proceeded to slam Amenadiel into a hug.

“He’ll be okay.”  She whispered, though they all heard her.  “I’m sorry we had to meet like this, I love your brother, and there’s no way he’s not coming back from this.  I won’t let this be a part of the Big Guy’s plan.”

Amenadiel looked at Ella in surprise, and gently ran his fingers over her rosary.

“I don’t think it’s part of His plan, either.”  Amenadiel said, as if on the verge of tears.

Dan and Chloe took that as their cue.  As they were filling up the five coffee cups, Dan finally spoke.

“His brother died.”

“What?”  Chloe asked, wiping away at silent tears.

“Amenadiel told me their brother died, and Lucifer thinks it’s his fault.”  Dan said.  “That’s why he’s been crazier than usual.  I don’t know what happened, but Lucifer thinks that his brother’s death was his fault.  And it’s killing him.”

Chloe turned to him in shock, nearly spilling hot coffee all over herself.  “I told him to talk to someone.  I knew something was wrong but I didn’t want to push him.  And now, he’s, he’s-”

Chloe burst into tears all over again.  Dan went to hug her again but she pushed him away.

“We have to be strong for him.”  Chloe said, trying to stem the flow of tears.  “We can’t be breaking down every two seconds.”

Dan nodded, and together they carried up the five coffees.  Maze was there by the time they returned, trying to threaten the hospital staff with her knives.

“Either you let me see him or I’m going to prove to you what Hell’s number one demon can do to a human!”  Maze shouted.

“Maze!  Maze!” Dan shouted right back.  “Let these people do their jobs.  Right now that’s all we can do.”

With one last nonverbal threat, Maze plopped down next to Amenadiel.  He barely noticed her presence.

After an agonizing three hours, a doctor in scrubs finally called out, “Family of… Lucifer Morningstar?”

They all jumped up, as if racing each other to the news.

“We’re his family.”  Amenadiel said.  “I’m his brother.”

The doctor cocked an eyebrow but said nothing about it.

“Well, Mr. Morningstar, your brother is going to make it.”  Dan saw Amenadiel flinch at the name but they all sighed in relief when they heard the good news.  “He did lose a lot of blood, but we were able to repair the damage and gave him some transfusions.  He’s very lucky, we were losing him for a while but, somehow, he pulled through.  It was practically a miracle.”  Again, Dan saw Amenadiel flinch.  “It’ll be a long road to recovery, and he’ll have to stay here until a psychologist clears him, but in time, his physical wounds will heal.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”  Amenadiel said, ever the polite brother.  “May we see him?”

“I’m afraid it’ll be family only, at the moment.”  The doctor said.  “He’s still under anesthesia, so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t recognize you, if he wakes up at all.”

“They’re his family too.”  Amenadiel lied, surprising everyone though they tried to not let it show.  “Our Father created them as well.”

The doctor nodded, as if something had been made clear.  Probably thinking that either they were half-siblings or adopted.

“Then I’ll have to limit it to three.”  The doctor replied.  “Normally it would be two, but I see how close your family is.”

Maze and Amenadiel automatically stepped forward.

“Go, Dan.”  Chloe said, gently nudging him forward.

“Chlo.”  Dan breathes, shocked.  He knew she was much closer to Lucifer than he was.

“Dan, you’re the one who found him.”  Chloe whispered.  “You need to see he’s alive more than I do.”

 “I’ll trade places with you soon.”  Dan kisses the side of Chloe’s head, trying to appear brotherly.  Chloe squeezed him lightly in return.

“You found your brother?”  The doctor asked.

“I was the one who found him, yeah.”  Dan replied, trying to not give the whole thing away while answering honestly.

“Did you find the weapon he used next to him?”  The doctor asked, trying to be gentle.  “We couldn’t figure it out.  It was a very unusual wound.”

Dan shook his head.  “No. Only thing I found was a glass that used to contain bourbon.”

The doctor nodded.  Then, he should really get her name, she led them down the corridors to Lucifer’s room.  “Be very quiet and don’t try to wake him.  Just let him wake up on his own.”

Dan nodded for all three of them.

Lucifer slept on, completely unaware of them entering his room, but a flood of relief surged through Dan’s veins.  After seeing Lucifer so pale, so still, so lifeless, seeing him breathe under his own power made Dan’s knees weak with relief.  He was wearing a nasal canula, as many patients often do, but he didn’t have a ventilator.  Dan thought it the best he’s ever seen Lucifer.  He was still pale, still very still, his eyeliner still smudged, but his chest was moving up and down, his heart was beating, and that was all that mattered to Dan.

“Bastard.”  Maze muttered, tightening her grip on a knife she’d snuck in.  “How dare you?”

“Mazikeen.”  Amenadiel snapped.  “That is not helping.”

“How dare he?”  Maze whirled on Amenadiel.  “He doesn’t get to run away like this.  Leaving me here. No way of going back.  Leaving you with no way of going back to the Silver City assholes.  He can’t just leave us here without him!”

Dan put a hand on Maze’s shoulder, ready to yank it back so he didn’t lose it.

Maze snorted, shoving him off.  She perched onto one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, as if waiting for someone to attacking him.  Dan figured that made sense, Maze had once been his bodyguard.

“I’ll go get Chloe in here.”  Dan said.

“No.”  Maze said.  “She’ll make it worse.”

“Lucifer was wounded when she was at home, Maze.”  Amenadiel said.  “He must’ve used Az- our sister’s blade.  That’s the only thing I could think of that could do this damage to him.”

Maze growled.  “Fine.”

Dan nodded, unsure of what had just happened, and simply left to get Chloe.

...

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153110/chapters/50345237

Whumptober Prompt #30- Recovery

........................... This is a bit embarrassing.  So I wrote today, but because I’m super fucking weird I ended up writing for a fandom I’ve never written before and I’m not saying it’s a bad story but it was suuuuuuuuper embarrassing to write.  It’s not a bad story, I think I did okay, but honestly, if I didn’t need to I probably wouldn’t post it.  So, everyone do me a favor? Skip this one.  If you insist on feeding my everlasting blush for today, here’s some... lazytown

...

Waking up from a sugar meltdown was not how he expected this day to go.  Coming out of them always made him frightened and sluggish.  He hated not being in control of his own body, unable to control what happened to him while he was unconscious.  He could feel someone holding his hand, trying to force what tasted like an apple into his mouth.  He bit down, and a small bit of energy immediately flowed through his body.

“That’s it, Sportasweet, you can do it.”  A comforting voice soothed some of his anxiety away.  He knew that voice.

His eyelashes fluttered, trying to get the world back into focus.  He took another bite of the apple.  More energy flowed through him, attacking the sugar poisoning his system.

Robbie eventually came back into focus, wearing a worried expression.

“What happened?”  Sportacus tried to ask around the apple.

Robbie smiled in relief.  “You scared me, that’s what happened.”

Sportacus frowned, and tried to sit up.  Robbie helped him to the orange fuzzy chair.

“Why was there a sugar apple in the kitchen?”  Sportacus asked, his voice on edge.

Robbie flinched.  He knew how Sportacus felt about meltdowns, he’d told the Fae when they first got together, and Sportacus was too tired to filter his emotions.

“We wanted to surprise you.”  Robbie saud, not meeting his eye.

“We?”  Sportacus snapped, using what little strength he had to scoot away from Robbie.

“The children and I!”  Robbie said, putting his hands up.  “For your birthday.”

Sportacus stopped.  “My birthday isn’t for another month.”

“We know.”  Robbie sighed.  “But Pinkie came up with an idea that the whole town ended up getting involved in.  Even Sticky Fingers parents!  She’s been working on a script for a play, a play about you and how much we love you.  Pinkie is going to be you, and I am of course playing myself, so I thought it should be accurate.  I made her a sugar apple that tastes like caramel, I’m pretty sure that’s her favorite.  That way she could enjoy a pretend sugar meltdown, I know you can’t but I thought I might try for her.”

The anger flooded out of Sportacus’s system and left fondness with a smudge of guilt.  Robbie has long abandoned the sentiment of sending him away forever, mostly only keeping his schemes up for fun.  He should’ve trusted the man he said he loved.

“Oh Robbie.”

Robbie grimaced.  “I’m sorry Sportacus.  I thought I was home alone today.  I should’ve been more careful about leaving out convincing sugar apples when apples never last longer than three seconds around you.”

“It was an honest mistake.”  Sportacus said.  “No need to be upset about it.”

Robbie managed a small but genuine smile.  “Damn flippity elf.  Always so self-sacrificing.”

Sportacus smiled right back.  “Silly Fae.  Always so willing to blame himself for everything.”

Robbie snickered.

“Come on, you flippy-floppy menace, let’s get you some bleh sportscandy.”

Robbie handed Sportacus the rest of the apple, which Sportacus devoured quickly.  But the signature flood of energy didn’t come.  That was strange.

Robbie returned with another apple.  “Sportacus?”

“What was in that apple?”  Sportacus asked hesitantly.

“Um, sugar, obviously,” Robbie frowned, noticing that Sportacus was not jumping up as he always did after a sugar apple “caramel, chocolate to soften it up so she can bite it, marshmallow syrup to hold it all together, and assorted taffy to make it the correct color.  Why?”

Sportacus took the apple from Robbie’s outstretched hand, and devoured that one quickly too.  He felt a little better but still, it wasn’t enough.

“Sportacus, why aren’t you flipping around my lair like you usually do?”  Robbie asked, fear seeping into his voice.

“I’m not sure.”  Sportacus murmured.

“What did you do today?”  Robbie asked.  “I know you and Pinkie were going to train today, for her Eleven stuff.  I know you ate breakfast with me.  What did you have for lunch?”

Sportacus opened his mouth, blushed and closed it.

“Sportaidiot.”  Robbie grumbled.  “You skipped lunch?  The one who’s always ranting and raving about three square meals a day missed lunch?”

Sportacus blushed harder.  “I might have gotten a little too involved with Stephanie’s training today.  Time just flew by, she’s progressed so far.  And then I sent her home to eat, thinking I would just do the same here and then I saw that apple and thought it would be a good way to replenish my energy before cooking.”

Robbie sighed.  “Stupid elf.  Stupid me for leaving it out.”

“We’re both fools.”  Sportacus said.  “I should’ve felt a difference in the weight of an apple, I should know what your sugar apples feel like.  Honestly the fact that I didn’t notice sooner doesn’t reflect well on me as a Hero.”

“Let me get you to my chair, you second-rate Hero.”  Robbie’s voice was teasing but his hands were gentle.  He knew Robbie had problems with the Heroes and how the whole operation worked but Sportacus didn’t mind much.  Robbie didn’t want him to stop being himself and that was all that mattered.

Robbie, more than likely using a bit of magic, lifted the elf into his arms and carried him over to the big, orange, fuzzy chair Robbie adored.  Robbie set him down gently and easily removed Sportacus’s hat, letting his ears relax.  He always kept them so tight when around the children, knowing they weren’t ready for the truth of their worlds.  Even the half-elf Stephanie didn’t know her true parentage. Illusions, spells, elves, fairies, and the world of magic stayed away from humans for a reason.  It felt good to finally relax.

“You coming down with something?”  Robbie murmured, feeling Sportacus’s forehead.  “That may explain why you didn’t eat lunch, I know you don’t eat much when you’re sick.”

“I don’t think so.”  Sportacus replied.  “I think I just need some rest.”

“All right, but you should still take eat some lavender plants to give you a boost.”  Robbie walked back to the kitchen, gesturing to the small garden that now resided above the lair.  Sportacus grew all sorts of flowers there, both to help in his magic and be beautiful, and he grew a lot of lavender because of its coloring and usage in healing spells.

“After a nap, I will.”  Sportacus agreed.

Robbie returned with a damp washcloth and set it on Sportacus’s forehead.

“There, now you’re totally immobilized.”  Robbie smirked, the routine of taking care of each other and the game they still played blending together perfectly.  “You can’t escape me.”

“Oh no, whatever shall I do?”  Sportacus yawned.  The sugar was definitely catching up to him.  “Looks like I’ll have to wait here with my boyfriend until I can be rescued.”

“I have work to do, ya know?”  Robbie chuckled.

“I’m afraid I don’t care too much right now.”  Sportacus said, reaching for Robbie’s hand with his own.

Robbie allowed himself to be dragged onto the fuzzy chair and snuggled up to Sportacus, spooning him with ease.

“The things I do for you, you crazy elf.”  Robbie muttered into his ear.

Sportacus simply snuggled into Robbie further.  Sleep was not far off for either of them.