[ graves knows he's afraid -- and all the more he has to keep up that expression of neutrality, the impression that he's done this before even if he's in pain. the knife has to be dealt with, and so is credence's apprehension. it's not his fault -- no, far from it. graves remembers how he felt when he'd rescued him from that warehouse, the rage and the fear, the fact that someone saw fit to hurt credence because they could.
all things considered, his young lover is dealing with it better than he ever thought he did. he can pick up on the anxiety, the trembling, and he puts his bloodstained hand lightly over his for a brief moment. ]
I'll be fine. [ he tells him, reaching for the kit and opening up one of the needle and thread packs. he uncaps the bottle of antiseptic and a thick pad of dressings, dumping a generous amount over it before he starts to slowly extract the knife. ]
Promise me. [ it's very quiet - the feel of the blood on his hand drags a shaky breath out of him before he can stop it and his full meaning is clear without saying it. promise me and be telling the truth. he knows enough about anatomy to realize that graves wouldn't be likely to die either way, but he still feels like his heart is wrapped tight in piano wire that's pulling more and more taut slowly.
he isn't going to move unless graves tells him to, keeping his touch (and the pressure) where he'd been instructed. tell me about your day drags a tinny, shaky laugh out of him and he tips his head forward, refusing to look away from what graves is doing. ] I went to the bakery to see Queenie and Jacob. I stayed there for a while because he was telling me about some new ideas he had. [ talking is helping, but only minutely. he closes his eyes very briefly. ] I brought you a couple things back when I came home. They're in the kitchen. They both said hi.
[ it's so stupid to talk like this, to ramble about everyday things like it's all normal. but he knows graves is trying to keep him from panicking by giving him something to focus on, and he appreciates it. ]
I promise. [ graves pauses mid-way, meets his eyes steadily. credence is afraid even if he doesn't want to say it, and he's as honest as he can when he answers, his fingers busy preparing for what will come next. so when credence talks about queenie and jacob, graves engages. his young lover's been visiting them more often, and graves doesn't mind it all that much -- they're a great influence on him, and it doesn't hurt that credence brings back some of the delicious pastries whenever he does. ]
Mmm? What new ideas?
[ credence is settling, at least -- he's calmer than he was before, even if it isn't by much, graves is also going to consider that an improvement. but it helps graves, too; lets him focus on the cadence of his voice, on the bigger picture beyond the injury. he pulls out the knife slowly and grits; the pain is incredible, but nothing beyond what he can handle, and he drops it off to the side with a clatter, slapping the pad soaked with antiseptic onto the wound. he guides credence's hand over it to stem the bleeding before he steadies himself with the sterilised needle and thread.
all right, he's not going to bleed out. ]
Is it about the new line of pastries he's thinking of making? Something about unicorns? [ or at least some kind of fancy, imaginary animal. ] Or something with rainbows. [ a beat. ] Rainbows are overrated.
[ under graves' gaze something in him unfurls. just a little. he nods minutely, taking a split-second to nose against the older man's temple before he settles back into the task he's been presented with. breathe in, breathe out. he's almost ashamed to be so much more visibly upset than graves but he can't help it.
his eyes are wide and owlish and scared as he watches all of this transpire, and as soon as graves guides him to he pushes down to provide pressure - he knows it's going to hurt, having seen the grit of graves' teeth, but he also knows it needs to be done. ] Pegasus...es? Pegasi? Anyway, winged horses, not unicorns. [ right. such a difference. he's still watching graves like a hawk but he's staying present, staying in the moment. ] Those skeletal horses from last Halloween were so popular that he wants to try these too.
[ he's only going to move his hand when he absolutely has to at his older lover's insistence; the blood loss will have improved greatly by then, at least. ] No rainbows. Probably edible glitter, though.
[ edible glitter? excuse me? this isn't the time for any untoward ideas involving edible glitter anyway. ] I think he's going to make the wings out of spun sugar. [ it's such a mundane thing to talk about, something so easy and light, that it's still helping even if he's definitely continuing to be rattled nonetheless. ]
[ there it is, when credence takes courage and attends to him. he has always been brave, his boy, but sometimes it just takes a little coaxing -- and it must be difficult to see someone you love bleeding all over the place and in pain. graves will know that better than anyone else; sometimes he has nightmares of credence bleeding out in that damned warehouse, still.
it doesn't make sense, and seeing the person you love hurt does something irrational to you, and graves doesn't blame credence for any of it. it hurts, it does, but graves forces himself to power through the pain, stifling a grimace when the antiseptic practically burns. but credence is stopping the bleeding, keeping up with the conversation and staying in the moment, and graves thinks he'll kiss him deeply when this is over. ]
You mean the Thestrals. [ he remembers that part of the conversation, at least. it's mundane, simple and easy, but this is what they both need to keep themselves centered, right? graves is gesturing for him to ease up off the pressure now, and he grits his teeth to start sewing himself up, reaching down to press the wound closed, his fingers slick with blood. keep talking to him, baby. ]
Did he give you some to try? You're always one of his favorites.
[ his brain still threatens to panic. it's there on the horizon, worrisome, trying to creep in at the edges of his mind. but he's trying his best and that's what matters, isn't it? that he's somehow managing to keep himself in check and focused. ] Yes, those. [ he moves his hand when he's instructed but the way graves holds the wound with slick fingers makes him frown. ] Your hand is going to slip. Let me do it. [ without even thinking. he will though, wiping his own gloved fingers on some gauze to dry them before pressing at it himself, holding it so graves can concentrate on stitching. breathe in, breathe out. back to what you were talking about. don't panic. you're fine. he's fine. ]
I had a couple of the broken ones from the tests... [ of course he did. ] The raspberry lemon ones were good, but I didn't like the ones with kiwi much. I don't remember the other fruit with them, it wasn't strawberry. Maybe coconut.[ he'd give a wry little smile here normally. ] Those ones are Queenie's favorite, though.
[ graves tells him, forcing his tone to be even and actually doing pretty well at it. credence is doing his best despite the upset, and that is all that graves can ask of him. despite everything, he lets credence take charge of what he can, watching him pressing down on the wound to prevent more blood from spilling. it's only a moment after that he can actually focus on the stitching. it takes twelve, but finally he's done, and graves finishes up, letting out a breath he doesn't know he'd been holding.
the pain is still there, sobering and aching, but graves has had worse in worse company, so all in all -- not too bad. ] Done. [ he smiles faintly. ] You did very well, Credence. Well done. [ he makes a note of credence's favorite flavors and reminds himself to buy those for him once kowalski's actually gotten the products up and running. his young lover tends to have a sweet tooth for these things, and graves pauses a moment, fishing out more gauze and bandages one-handedly. ] I like coconut.
[ it occurs to him that this is one of the rare, rare moments when graves tells him about himself. maybe the pain's gotten to him more than he'd thought. ]
[ credence is barely holding himself together and graves knows it. the praise is nice though, even if it feels unwarranted. credence's eyes never leave graves' work on the wound, soft and worried. when the danger has passed and only pain is left, credence wipes his hands again and snatches the gauze and bandages from graves so that he can do this part himself.
but then i like coconut and credence can't help but smile, chin tucking down slightly in embarrassment over being so happy being granted something so simple. it means a lot to him, though. once the bandaging is done he burrows into graves' shoulder for a moment, inhaling-exhaling slowly before he peels off the gloves and grasps graves' face gently in his hands, urging a kiss to his mouth softly. ] I love you. You can't leave me because of something like this, okay?
[ he still won't expect graves to say it back. of course he doesn't, because graves never says it. still, he looks at him a moment before speaking again. ] You need to rest. I can clean all of this up.
[ he kisses him back, forefinger and thumb grasping his chin. he doesn't let credence go -- that kiss, soft and sweet, is too short, and he's drawing him close again. graves might not say it, but he pours his feelings for him into the kiss, pressing another to his mouth, then another.
all things considered, credence has put up an impressive front; and there's something endearing about that embarrassed smile. he's leaning into his hands, in no particular hurry to do anything else. ]
I'm not going anywhere. [ he promises, noting how credence has done such a good job with the bandages. it's firm, and all he has to do is ride this out. his thumb smooths over credence's bottom lip when he pulls away briefly, never straying too far from him. but his mind strays to more practical matters, just for a few moments. ] Did Kowalski ask you to work for him?
[ credence can feel it in the kisses, leaning into them and exhaling shakily against his mouth in between. he'll clean up later: now that he's stopped focusing on wound care all he can think of is making sure that graves is still here, still with him, whole and solid and not about to slip through his fingers like grains of sand.
i love you, he doesn't repeat, but he thinks it. instead: ] Good. I need you too much.
[ he presses a gentle kiss to the pad of graves' thumb thoughtlessly, then looks at him, dark eyes searching his face before he nods slightly. ] He did. He said he likes my ideas and he could use the help. How did you know?
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all things considered, his young lover is dealing with it better than he ever thought he did. he can pick up on the anxiety, the trembling, and he puts his bloodstained hand lightly over his for a brief moment. ]
I'll be fine. [ he tells him, reaching for the kit and opening up one of the needle and thread packs. he uncaps the bottle of antiseptic and a thick pad of dressings, dumping a generous amount over it before he starts to slowly extract the knife. ]
Tell me about your day, sweetheart.
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he isn't going to move unless graves tells him to, keeping his touch (and the pressure) where he'd been instructed. tell me about your day drags a tinny, shaky laugh out of him and he tips his head forward, refusing to look away from what graves is doing. ] I went to the bakery to see Queenie and Jacob. I stayed there for a while because he was telling me about some new ideas he had. [ talking is helping, but only minutely. he closes his eyes very briefly. ] I brought you a couple things back when I came home. They're in the kitchen. They both said hi.
[ it's so stupid to talk like this, to ramble about everyday things like it's all normal. but he knows graves is trying to keep him from panicking by giving him something to focus on, and he appreciates it. ]
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Mmm? What new ideas?
[ credence is settling, at least -- he's calmer than he was before, even if it isn't by much, graves is also going to consider that an improvement. but it helps graves, too; lets him focus on the cadence of his voice, on the bigger picture beyond the injury. he pulls out the knife slowly and grits; the pain is incredible, but nothing beyond what he can handle, and he drops it off to the side with a clatter, slapping the pad soaked with antiseptic onto the wound. he guides credence's hand over it to stem the bleeding before he steadies himself with the sterilised needle and thread.
all right, he's not going to bleed out. ]
Is it about the new line of pastries he's thinking of making? Something about unicorns? [ or at least some kind of fancy, imaginary animal. ] Or something with rainbows. [ a beat. ] Rainbows are overrated.
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his eyes are wide and owlish and scared as he watches all of this transpire, and as soon as graves guides him to he pushes down to provide pressure - he knows it's going to hurt, having seen the grit of graves' teeth, but he also knows it needs to be done. ] Pegasus...es? Pegasi? Anyway, winged horses, not unicorns. [ right. such a difference. he's still watching graves like a hawk but he's staying present, staying in the moment. ] Those skeletal horses from last Halloween were so popular that he wants to try these too.
[ he's only going to move his hand when he absolutely has to at his older lover's insistence; the blood loss will have improved greatly by then, at least. ] No rainbows. Probably edible glitter, though.
[ edible glitter? excuse me? this isn't the time for any untoward ideas involving edible glitter anyway. ] I think he's going to make the wings out of spun sugar. [ it's such a mundane thing to talk about, something so easy and light, that it's still helping even if he's definitely continuing to be rattled nonetheless. ]
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it doesn't make sense, and seeing the person you love hurt does something irrational to you, and graves doesn't blame credence for any of it. it hurts, it does, but graves forces himself to power through the pain, stifling a grimace when the antiseptic practically burns. but credence is stopping the bleeding, keeping up with the conversation and staying in the moment, and graves thinks he'll kiss him deeply when this is over. ]
You mean the Thestrals. [ he remembers that part of the conversation, at least. it's mundane, simple and easy, but this is what they both need to keep themselves centered, right? graves is gesturing for him to ease up off the pressure now, and he grits his teeth to start sewing himself up, reaching down to press the wound closed, his fingers slick with blood. keep talking to him, baby. ]
Did he give you some to try? You're always one of his favorites.
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I had a couple of the broken ones from the tests... [ of course he did. ] The raspberry lemon ones were good, but I didn't like the ones with kiwi much. I don't remember the other fruit with them, it wasn't strawberry. Maybe coconut.[ he'd give a wry little smile here normally. ] Those ones are Queenie's favorite, though.
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[ graves tells him, forcing his tone to be even and actually doing pretty well at it. credence is doing his best despite the upset, and that is all that graves can ask of him. despite everything, he lets credence take charge of what he can, watching him pressing down on the wound to prevent more blood from spilling. it's only a moment after that he can actually focus on the stitching. it takes twelve, but finally he's done, and graves finishes up, letting out a breath he doesn't know he'd been holding.
the pain is still there, sobering and aching, but graves has had worse in worse company, so all in all -- not too bad. ] Done. [ he smiles faintly. ] You did very well, Credence. Well done. [ he makes a note of credence's favorite flavors and reminds himself to buy those for him once kowalski's actually gotten the products up and running. his young lover tends to have a sweet tooth for these things, and graves pauses a moment, fishing out more gauze and bandages one-handedly. ] I like coconut.
[ it occurs to him that this is one of the rare, rare moments when graves tells him about himself. maybe the pain's gotten to him more than he'd thought. ]
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but then i like coconut and credence can't help but smile, chin tucking down slightly in embarrassment over being so happy being granted something so simple. it means a lot to him, though. once the bandaging is done he burrows into graves' shoulder for a moment, inhaling-exhaling slowly before he peels off the gloves and grasps graves' face gently in his hands, urging a kiss to his mouth softly. ] I love you. You can't leave me because of something like this, okay?
[ he still won't expect graves to say it back. of course he doesn't, because graves never says it. still, he looks at him a moment before speaking again. ] You need to rest. I can clean all of this up.
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all things considered, credence has put up an impressive front; and there's something endearing about that embarrassed smile. he's leaning into his hands, in no particular hurry to do anything else. ]
I'm not going anywhere. [ he promises, noting how credence has done such a good job with the bandages. it's firm, and all he has to do is ride this out. his thumb smooths over credence's bottom lip when he pulls away briefly, never straying too far from him. but his mind strays to more practical matters, just for a few moments. ] Did Kowalski ask you to work for him?
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i love you, he doesn't repeat, but he thinks it. instead: ] Good. I need you too much.
[ he presses a gentle kiss to the pad of graves' thumb thoughtlessly, then looks at him, dark eyes searching his face before he nods slightly. ] He did. He said he likes my ideas and he could use the help. How did you know?