prompt: Larry babying the shit out of Freddy after he takes him to a doctor and gets him fixed up
“Seriously Larry, I’m fine,” Freddy said for what felt like the 50th time that day. “I can get my own water from the kitchen, I’m not gonna snap in half.”
“You’re recovering,” Larry insisted, guiding him back to the couch. “You can’t be walking around and risking a tear in stitches. You could fall or something.”
Freddy sat down on the couch and blatantly rolled his eyes at him. Larry helped him get his legs up on the couch so he could lay down and watch TV. When Freddy got comfortable, he bent over him and kissed his lips. “I’m gonna make you some tea,” he said, tucking the blanket on top of Freddy under his shoulders.
When he came back in the room with the tea, Freddy was out cold. Larry grabbed the remote and turned the TV volume down, stood over his beautiful boy and brushed the hair off his forehead, felt it to make sure he wasn’t feverish. He decided to get some rest himself, kicking back in the armchair and drifting off to the sound of the TV and Freddy’s soft breathing.
He was back in the warehouse, gun cold and heavy in his hand, praying to god that Freddy would make it through this, holding him close and hearing him cry and say his name over and over, Larry, Larry, oh my god-
He shook awake, realized that Freddy actually was shouting his name, and bolted to his side. Freddy was moaning and clutching his stomach, writing in pain.
“Freddy, christ, baby it’s okay,” he said, panicking, checking to make sure the stitches weren’t bleeding. “You’re okay, I’m right here,” he said, petting his hair. He checked his watch and his heart dropped. “Oh fuck. Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I slept in,” he said, cursing himself for not waking up in time to give Freddy his next interval of painkillers.
He ran to the kitchen and grabbed them, put one on Freddy’s tongue and tilted a glass of water to his lips. Freddy drank it eagerly, looked up at Larry. “I’m okay,” he said, laying his head back down.
Larry smoothed his hand across Freddy’s chest and bent over him to kiss his forehead. He kissed down his jaw and throat, pressed kisses to his ribs and gently brushed his lips over his stomach, felt him shudder.
Half asleep and starting to feel the painkillers, Freddy put his hand down his boxers and pressed fingers against himself. “Wanna get fucked,” he said, eyes closed. “You should fuck me. It’s been weeks.”
Larry laughed, kissed his hipbone. “Not yet, kiddo. You’ve gotta heal first.”
Freddy groaned, drifting off to sleep with his fingers laced in Larry’s. “Healing sucks.”
