Dr. D.Whitney

[philippe-muller]

My name is Philippe Muller. I am an infiltrated agent in America working for the SDECE (Service de documentation extérieure et de contre-espionnage) also called the french secret service. I'm 35 years old, born in 1926.

My cover has been David Whitney, an obstetrician working at St Houston Hospital for a little more than 8 years now. I have also been happily married to Linda Whitney for 5 years. We have a daughter. I have been placed here to keep an eye on KGB's infiltration in America. My duty is simply to inform my country of their progress and mistakes. I also keep an eye over the A.S.S and its agents. I took part in some missions, but most of the time, I live as an informer, and I do my job as I am a doctor before all.

𖦏 If this information was not given to you, you should only know me as David Whitney. Nobody outside of the people who work with my service knows about my true identity 𖦏

-----

Asks are open if yall want to ask stuff/interact.

Character sheet and different timeline under the cut!!!

He also works later in Chimera as the New York clinic's head. in this au he had lost his left arm and works with a very high tec (for the period) prosthetic. Don't hesitate to interact with him in a Chimera context.

This blog contains nsfw content. And I'm so sorry about it he is batshit insane.

All the finished rp are tagged #final version

And asks #philippe muller answers

ooc's first language isn't english + terribly dyslexic, I'm sorry for any types of mistakes

time zone CEST

This is his modern au tumblr account (much more for my own satisfaction.) @dansleurssouriresdesdiamants

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt's rather comfortable. Eyes closed, barely felt anything besides maybe a prick or two. It didn’t hurt anyway.

He didn’t really reply, feeling fatigue drag at his body. His head lightly tilted away from David.

“I don’t need praise. But I’ll take it.”

[philippe-muller]

You seemed a bit tense, that's all.

David's voice is tired and softened a bit. He wipes Curt's skin, patching him up without another word. Curt is falling asleep anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

A slow arm raised to push away the hand wiping at him, too groggy to notice where exactly it was. He’s had assumed his face, but he's easily wrong.

“I’m not tense. Step off, won’t you?”

[philippe-muller]

He walks away just for a bit, grabbing the bed once again, pushing Curt back to his room. He'll be happy to do something else. as if he had anything else to do on that day...

He pushes Curt's bed back on the room. Watching the other guy as he slowly falls asleep. He sits where he was a few minutes ago, on the other bed, lighting a cigarette again as his eyes brush on Curt's form. Then they stop on his leg, the prosthetic one. He had forgotten to take care of that. He bites off his grumble.

That was the first thing he should have done. Chimera cared much more about Curt's leg than Curt himself.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt doesn’t even notice when he falls asleep himself. It’s just a blink and one point, he’s somewhere. Then the next, he’s dully staring at a different ceiling. He doesn’t dare move much, preoccupied with the assumption he shouldn’t move because of his injury. But he tilts his head to get a look around the room, spotting David once more.

“Still here?” He questioned, voice with a mild edge of curiosity but also fatigue.

“I thought you’d be happy to leave, moment you were done.. Are you done with me? You must be. Enjoying a cigarette.” He paused, before adding on in a lower tone. “Can I have one?”

[philippe-muller]

David hands him one, putting his pack back in the inside of his blouse before grabbing his lighter, playing with it a bit before lightning his one back and giving it to Curt. It's a mettalic lighter except the edges are so used, their color had turned into orange. The initals P.M are carved on it, it looks like it's old, something from David's past life.

I'll have to check on your leg.

He grumbles before taking a drag, not actively doing anything to change that. Hiseyes flickering on Curt as he was lighting his own cigarette.

[special-ass-agent]

“Everyone has to check my leg. Whenever I meet some new person in a lab coat.”

Curt takes the lighter, rolling it lightly in his hand and admiring it. Taking in the sight of wear and tear. The initials catch his eye and he glanced at David. He always suspected the guy with a different name. He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t consider asking. There had to be a reason for it and he didn’t want to bother. Besides, he just asked for a cigarette and a lighter. Not a man’s backstory.

He flicked the top open, letting the little flame spark and stay alive, as he brought the cigarette in close. He then closed the lighter when done and offered it back. A hand holding the cigarette and taking a small puff.

He exhaled, the smoke rising into the air.

“Do I look good, doing this? Surely I look good.”

[philippe-muller]

He grabs the ligter back and puts it in the same pocket as his cigarette before sitting more comfortably on the bed with a snort, his eyes ljingering on Curt's face, happy to see him slowly get some colors back.

Well, obviously, you'd look good doing anything, even being half dead on my operation table.

[special-ass-agent]

“Do you stare at your half-dead patients all the time, or am I special?” Curt questioned, but paired it with a roll of his eyes.

He’s only smoked a few times in his life. Three moments in time, that he can directly remember. Three moments around one specific person. And he always had a glass, with swirling ice and a cold drink inside it.. Which, just thinking about that had his free hand itching for a cold glass. He took a puff of the cigarette first.

“Any chance you got a flask on you?”

[philippe-muller]

No, I tend not to drink while I work. I'll get you something next time I come in. You're going to be here for a while.

His head turns to look back at Curt.

And yeah, I stare a lot, you wouldn't believe it.

He huffs.

[special-ass-agent]

“Make sure it’s whiskey when you do. If that’s even possible. If not, anything will do. But I’ll complain.”

An eyebrow raised at David. “Stare a lot in general, or stare a lot at me?” He decided to question. “I mean, I’m not even around here often. I’m not eye-candy, maybe stop that if you’re looking at me.” He’s aware that really, he didn’t mind. Flattered, maybe a bit of an ego boost. But he’s aware of who may be listening.

[philippe-muller]

Sure, I'll bring you whiskey

He shrugs, not really moving his eyes away from Curt. He takes another drag.

You don't seem to care really, well, you never really did.

[special-ass-agent]

“I don’t know how you want me to sound, being checked out by you. If you expect me to be loud and yell, I don’t really feel like it. I’d sit up, but..” His free hand gestured to his patched-up injury.

“And.. And I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

[philippe-muller]

Nobody care here, you know ?

He grins, finally moving his eyes as he smokes.

And anyway, nobody would dare say anything to me about it. relax.

[special-ass-agent]

A pause of silence from Curt, eyes flicking around. Expecting something. Anything. But there’s nothing. A beat more.

“..They should care.”

His voice is a whisper, before he’s clearing his throat. Or, attempting to. He sounds more choked than anything. “I want that whiskey. Are you going to get it or not?”

[philippe-muller]

"Why?"

He grins, continuing to smoke.

"I don't have any on me, despite what one could think, you'll have to wait."

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt's rather comfortable. Eyes closed, barely felt anything besides maybe a prick or two. It didn’t hurt anyway.

He didn’t really reply, feeling fatigue drag at his body. His head lightly tilted away from David.

“I don’t need praise. But I’ll take it.”

[philippe-muller]

You seemed a bit tense, that's all.

David's voice is tired and softened a bit. He wipes Curt's skin, patching him up without another word. Curt is falling asleep anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

A slow arm raised to push away the hand wiping at him, too groggy to notice where exactly it was. He’s had assumed his face, but he's easily wrong.

“I’m not tense. Step off, won’t you?”

[philippe-muller]

He walks away just for a bit, grabbing the bed once again, pushing Curt back to his room. He'll be happy to do something else. as if he had anything else to do on that day...

He pushes Curt's bed back on the room. Watching the other guy as he slowly falls asleep. He sits where he was a few minutes ago, on the other bed, lighting a cigarette again as his eyes brush on Curt's form. Then they stop on his leg, the prosthetic one. He had forgotten to take care of that. He bites off his grumble.

That was the first thing he should have done. Chimera cared much more about Curt's leg than Curt himself.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt doesn’t even notice when he falls asleep himself. It’s just a blink and one point, he’s somewhere. Then the next, he’s dully staring at a different ceiling. He doesn’t dare move much, preoccupied with the assumption he shouldn’t move because of his injury. But he tilts his head to get a look around the room, spotting David once more.

“Still here?” He questioned, voice with a mild edge of curiosity but also fatigue.

“I thought you’d be happy to leave, moment you were done.. Are you done with me? You must be. Enjoying a cigarette.” He paused, before adding on in a lower tone. “Can I have one?”

[philippe-muller]

David hands him one, putting his pack back in the inside of his blouse before grabbing his lighter, playing with it a bit before lightning his one back and giving it to Curt. It's a mettalic lighter except the edges are so used, their color had turned into orange. The initals P.M are carved on it, it looks like it's old, something from David's past life.

I'll have to check on your leg.

He grumbles before taking a drag, not actively doing anything to change that. Hiseyes flickering on Curt as he was lighting his own cigarette.

[special-ass-agent]

“Everyone has to check my leg. Whenever I meet some new person in a lab coat.”

Curt takes the lighter, rolling it lightly in his hand and admiring it. Taking in the sight of wear and tear. The initials catch his eye and he glanced at David. He always suspected the guy with a different name. He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t consider asking. There had to be a reason for it and he didn’t want to bother. Besides, he just asked for a cigarette and a lighter. Not a man’s backstory.

He flicked the top open, letting the little flame spark and stay alive, as he brought the cigarette in close. He then closed the lighter when done and offered it back. A hand holding the cigarette and taking a small puff.

He exhaled, the smoke rising into the air.

“Do I look good, doing this? Surely I look good.”

[philippe-muller]

He grabs the ligter back and puts it in the same pocket as his cigarette before sitting more comfortably on the bed with a snort, his eyes ljingering on Curt's face, happy to see him slowly get some colors back.

Well, obviously, you'd look good doing anything, even being half dead on my operation table.

[special-ass-agent]

“Do you stare at your half-dead patients all the time, or am I special?” Curt questioned, but paired it with a roll of his eyes.

He’s only smoked a few times in his life. Three moments in time, that he can directly remember. Three moments around one specific person. And he always had a glass, with swirling ice and a cold drink inside it.. Which, just thinking about that had his free hand itching for a cold glass. He took a puff of the cigarette first.

“Any chance you got a flask on you?”

[philippe-muller]

No, I tend not to drink while I work. I'll get you something next time I come in. You're going to be here for a while.

His head turns to look back at Curt.

And yeah, I stare a lot, you wouldn't believe it.

He huffs.

[special-ass-agent]

“Make sure it’s whiskey when you do. If that’s even possible. If not, anything will do. But I’ll complain.”

An eyebrow raised at David. “Stare a lot in general, or stare a lot at me?” He decided to question. “I mean, I’m not even around here often. I’m not eye-candy, maybe stop that if you’re looking at me.” He’s aware that really, he didn’t mind. Flattered, maybe a bit of an ego boost. But he’s aware of who may be listening.

[philippe-muller]

Sure, I'll bring you whiskey

He shrugs, not really moving his eyes away from Curt. He takes another drag.

You don't seem to care really, well, you never really did.

[special-ass-agent]

“I don’t know how you want me to sound, being checked out by you. If you expect me to be loud and yell, I don’t really feel like it. I’d sit up, but..” His free hand gestured to his patched-up injury.

“And.. And I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

[philippe-muller]

Nobody care here, you know ?

He grins, finally moving his eyes as he smokes.

And anyway, nobody would dare say anything to me about it. relax.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt's rather comfortable. Eyes closed, barely felt anything besides maybe a prick or two. It didn’t hurt anyway.

He didn’t really reply, feeling fatigue drag at his body. His head lightly tilted away from David.

“I don’t need praise. But I’ll take it.”

[philippe-muller]

You seemed a bit tense, that's all.

David's voice is tired and softened a bit. He wipes Curt's skin, patching him up without another word. Curt is falling asleep anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

A slow arm raised to push away the hand wiping at him, too groggy to notice where exactly it was. He’s had assumed his face, but he's easily wrong.

“I’m not tense. Step off, won’t you?”

[philippe-muller]

He walks away just for a bit, grabbing the bed once again, pushing Curt back to his room. He'll be happy to do something else. as if he had anything else to do on that day...

He pushes Curt's bed back on the room. Watching the other guy as he slowly falls asleep. He sits where he was a few minutes ago, on the other bed, lighting a cigarette again as his eyes brush on Curt's form. Then they stop on his leg, the prosthetic one. He had forgotten to take care of that. He bites off his grumble.

That was the first thing he should have done. Chimera cared much more about Curt's leg than Curt himself.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt doesn’t even notice when he falls asleep himself. It’s just a blink and one point, he’s somewhere. Then the next, he’s dully staring at a different ceiling. He doesn’t dare move much, preoccupied with the assumption he shouldn’t move because of his injury. But he tilts his head to get a look around the room, spotting David once more.

“Still here?” He questioned, voice with a mild edge of curiosity but also fatigue.

“I thought you’d be happy to leave, moment you were done.. Are you done with me? You must be. Enjoying a cigarette.” He paused, before adding on in a lower tone. “Can I have one?”

[philippe-muller]

David hands him one, putting his pack back in the inside of his blouse before grabbing his lighter, playing with it a bit before lightning his one back and giving it to Curt. It's a mettalic lighter except the edges are so used, their color had turned into orange. The initals P.M are carved on it, it looks like it's old, something from David's past life.

I'll have to check on your leg.

He grumbles before taking a drag, not actively doing anything to change that. Hiseyes flickering on Curt as he was lighting his own cigarette.

[special-ass-agent]

“Everyone has to check my leg. Whenever I meet some new person in a lab coat.”

Curt takes the lighter, rolling it lightly in his hand and admiring it. Taking in the sight of wear and tear. The initials catch his eye and he glanced at David. He always suspected the guy with a different name. He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t consider asking. There had to be a reason for it and he didn’t want to bother. Besides, he just asked for a cigarette and a lighter. Not a man’s backstory.

He flicked the top open, letting the little flame spark and stay alive, as he brought the cigarette in close. He then closed the lighter when done and offered it back. A hand holding the cigarette and taking a small puff.

He exhaled, the smoke rising into the air.

“Do I look good, doing this? Surely I look good.”

[philippe-muller]

He grabs the ligter back and puts it in the same pocket as his cigarette before sitting more comfortably on the bed with a snort, his eyes ljingering on Curt's face, happy to see him slowly get some colors back.

Well, obviously, you'd look good doing anything, even being half dead on my operation table.

[special-ass-agent]

“Do you stare at your half-dead patients all the time, or am I special?” Curt questioned, but paired it with a roll of his eyes.

He’s only smoked a few times in his life. Three moments in time, that he can directly remember. Three moments around one specific person. And he always had a glass, with swirling ice and a cold drink inside it.. Which, just thinking about that had his free hand itching for a cold glass. He took a puff of the cigarette first.

“Any chance you got a flask on you?”

[philippe-muller]

No, I tend not to drink while I work. I'll get you something next time I come in. You're going to be here for a while.

His head turns to look back at Curt.

And yeah, I stare a lot, you wouldn't believe it.

He huffs.

[special-ass-agent]

“Make sure it’s whiskey when you do. If that’s even possible. If not, anything will do. But I’ll complain.”

An eyebrow raised at David. “Stare a lot in general, or stare a lot at me?” He decided to question. “I mean, I’m not even around here often. I’m not eye-candy, maybe stop that if you’re looking at me.” He’s aware that really, he didn’t mind. Flattered, maybe a bit of an ego boost. But he’s aware of who may be listening.

[philippe-muller]

Sure, I'll bring you whiskey

He shrugs, not really moving his eyes away from Curt. He takes another drag.

You don't seem to care really, well, you never really did.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt's rather comfortable. Eyes closed, barely felt anything besides maybe a prick or two. It didn’t hurt anyway.

He didn’t really reply, feeling fatigue drag at his body. His head lightly tilted away from David.

“I don’t need praise. But I’ll take it.”

[philippe-muller]

You seemed a bit tense, that's all.

David's voice is tired and softened a bit. He wipes Curt's skin, patching him up without another word. Curt is falling asleep anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

A slow arm raised to push away the hand wiping at him, too groggy to notice where exactly it was. He’s had assumed his face, but he's easily wrong.

“I’m not tense. Step off, won’t you?”

[philippe-muller]

He walks away just for a bit, grabbing the bed once again, pushing Curt back to his room. He'll be happy to do something else. as if he had anything else to do on that day...

He pushes Curt's bed back on the room. Watching the other guy as he slowly falls asleep. He sits where he was a few minutes ago, on the other bed, lighting a cigarette again as his eyes brush on Curt's form. Then they stop on his leg, the prosthetic one. He had forgotten to take care of that. He bites off his grumble.

That was the first thing he should have done. Chimera cared much more about Curt's leg than Curt himself.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt doesn’t even notice when he falls asleep himself. It’s just a blink and one point, he’s somewhere. Then the next, he’s dully staring at a different ceiling. He doesn’t dare move much, preoccupied with the assumption he shouldn’t move because of his injury. But he tilts his head to get a look around the room, spotting David once more.

“Still here?” He questioned, voice with a mild edge of curiosity but also fatigue.

“I thought you’d be happy to leave, moment you were done.. Are you done with me? You must be. Enjoying a cigarette.” He paused, before adding on in a lower tone. “Can I have one?”

[philippe-muller]

David hands him one, putting his pack back in the inside of his blouse before grabbing his lighter, playing with it a bit before lightning his one back and giving it to Curt. It's a mettalic lighter except the edges are so used, their color had turned into orange. The initals P.M are carved on it, it looks like it's old, something from David's past life.

I'll have to check on your leg.

He grumbles before taking a drag, not actively doing anything to change that. Hiseyes flickering on Curt as he was lighting his own cigarette.

[special-ass-agent]

“Everyone has to check my leg. Whenever I meet some new person in a lab coat.”

Curt takes the lighter, rolling it lightly in his hand and admiring it. Taking in the sight of wear and tear. The initials catch his eye and he glanced at David. He always suspected the guy with a different name. He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t consider asking. There had to be a reason for it and he didn’t want to bother. Besides, he just asked for a cigarette and a lighter. Not a man’s backstory.

He flicked the top open, letting the little flame spark and stay alive, as he brought the cigarette in close. He then closed the lighter when done and offered it back. A hand holding the cigarette and taking a small puff.

He exhaled, the smoke rising into the air.

“Do I look good, doing this? Surely I look good.”

[philippe-muller]

He grabs the ligter back and puts it in the same pocket as his cigarette before sitting more comfortably on the bed with a snort, his eyes ljingering on Curt's face, happy to see him slowly get some colors back.

Well, obviously, you'd look good doing anything, even being half dead on my operation table.

[special-ass-agent]

“Do you stare at your half-dead patients all the time, or am I special?” Curt questioned, but paired it with a roll of his eyes.

He’s only smoked a few times in his life. Three moments in time, that he can directly remember. Three moments around one specific person. And he always had a glass, with swirling ice and a cold drink inside it.. Which, just thinking about that had his free hand itching for a cold glass. He took a puff of the cigarette first.

“Any chance you got a flask on you?”

[philippe-muller]

No, I tend not to drink while I work. I'll get you something next time I come in. You're going to be here for a while.

His head turns to look back at Curt.

And yeah, I stare a lot, you wouldn't believe it.

He huffs.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt's rather comfortable. Eyes closed, barely felt anything besides maybe a prick or two. It didn’t hurt anyway.

He didn’t really reply, feeling fatigue drag at his body. His head lightly tilted away from David.

“I don’t need praise. But I’ll take it.”

[philippe-muller]

You seemed a bit tense, that's all.

David's voice is tired and softened a bit. He wipes Curt's skin, patching him up without another word. Curt is falling asleep anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

A slow arm raised to push away the hand wiping at him, too groggy to notice where exactly it was. He’s had assumed his face, but he's easily wrong.

“I’m not tense. Step off, won’t you?”

[philippe-muller]

He walks away just for a bit, grabbing the bed once again, pushing Curt back to his room. He'll be happy to do something else. as if he had anything else to do on that day...

He pushes Curt's bed back on the room. Watching the other guy as he slowly falls asleep. He sits where he was a few minutes ago, on the other bed, lighting a cigarette again as his eyes brush on Curt's form. Then they stop on his leg, the prosthetic one. He had forgotten to take care of that. He bites off his grumble.

That was the first thing he should have done. Chimera cared much more about Curt's leg than Curt himself.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt doesn’t even notice when he falls asleep himself. It’s just a blink and one point, he’s somewhere. Then the next, he’s dully staring at a different ceiling. He doesn’t dare move much, preoccupied with the assumption he shouldn’t move because of his injury. But he tilts his head to get a look around the room, spotting David once more.

“Still here?” He questioned, voice with a mild edge of curiosity but also fatigue.

“I thought you’d be happy to leave, moment you were done.. Are you done with me? You must be. Enjoying a cigarette.” He paused, before adding on in a lower tone. “Can I have one?”

[philippe-muller]

David hands him one, putting his pack back in the inside of his blouse before grabbing his lighter, playing with it a bit before lightning his one back and giving it to Curt. It's a mettalic lighter except the edges are so used, their color had turned into orange. The initals P.M are carved on it, it looks like it's old, something from David's past life.

I'll have to check on your leg.

He grumbles before taking a drag, not actively doing anything to change that. Hiseyes flickering on Curt as he was lighting his own cigarette.

[special-ass-agent]

“Everyone has to check my leg. Whenever I meet some new person in a lab coat.”

Curt takes the lighter, rolling it lightly in his hand and admiring it. Taking in the sight of wear and tear. The initials catch his eye and he glanced at David. He always suspected the guy with a different name. He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t consider asking. There had to be a reason for it and he didn’t want to bother. Besides, he just asked for a cigarette and a lighter. Not a man’s backstory.

He flicked the top open, letting the little flame spark and stay alive, as he brought the cigarette in close. He then closed the lighter when done and offered it back. A hand holding the cigarette and taking a small puff.

He exhaled, the smoke rising into the air.

“Do I look good, doing this? Surely I look good.”

[philippe-muller]

He grabs the ligter back and puts it in the same pocket as his cigarette before sitting more comfortably on the bed with a snort, his eyes ljingering on Curt's face, happy to see him slowly get some colors back.

Well, obviously, you'd look good doing anything, even being half dead on my operation table.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt's rather comfortable. Eyes closed, barely felt anything besides maybe a prick or two. It didn’t hurt anyway.

He didn’t really reply, feeling fatigue drag at his body. His head lightly tilted away from David.

“I don’t need praise. But I’ll take it.”

[philippe-muller]

You seemed a bit tense, that's all.

David's voice is tired and softened a bit. He wipes Curt's skin, patching him up without another word. Curt is falling asleep anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

A slow arm raised to push away the hand wiping at him, too groggy to notice where exactly it was. He’s had assumed his face, but he's easily wrong.

“I’m not tense. Step off, won’t you?”

[philippe-muller]

He walks away just for a bit, grabbing the bed once again, pushing Curt back to his room. He'll be happy to do something else. as if he had anything else to do on that day...

He pushes Curt's bed back on the room. Watching the other guy as he slowly falls asleep. He sits where he was a few minutes ago, on the other bed, lighting a cigarette again as his eyes brush on Curt's form. Then they stop on his leg, the prosthetic one. He had forgotten to take care of that. He bites off his grumble.

That was the first thing he should have done. Chimera cared much more about Curt's leg than Curt himself.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt doesn’t even notice when he falls asleep himself. It’s just a blink and one point, he’s somewhere. Then the next, he’s dully staring at a different ceiling. He doesn’t dare move much, preoccupied with the assumption he shouldn’t move because of his injury. But he tilts his head to get a look around the room, spotting David once more.

“Still here?” He questioned, voice with a mild edge of curiosity but also fatigue.

“I thought you’d be happy to leave, moment you were done.. Are you done with me? You must be. Enjoying a cigarette.” He paused, before adding on in a lower tone. “Can I have one?”

[philippe-muller]

David hands him one, putting his pack back in the inside of his blouse before grabbing his lighter, playing with it a bit before lightning his one back and giving it to Curt. It's a mettalic lighter except the edges are so used, their color had turned into orange. The initals P.M are carved on it, it looks like it's old, something from David's past life.

I'll have to check on your leg.

He grumbles before taking a drag, not actively doing anything to change that. Hiseyes flickering on Curt as he was lighting his own cigarette.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt's rather comfortable. Eyes closed, barely felt anything besides maybe a prick or two. It didn’t hurt anyway.

He didn’t really reply, feeling fatigue drag at his body. His head lightly tilted away from David.

“I don’t need praise. But I’ll take it.”

[philippe-muller]

You seemed a bit tense, that's all.

David's voice is tired and softened a bit. He wipes Curt's skin, patching him up without another word. Curt is falling asleep anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

A slow arm raised to push away the hand wiping at him, too groggy to notice where exactly it was. He’s had assumed his face, but he's easily wrong.

“I’m not tense. Step off, won’t you?”

[philippe-muller]

He walks away just for a bit, grabbing the bed once again, pushing Curt back to his room. He'll be happy to do something else. as if he had anything else to do on that day...

He pushes Curt's bed back on the room. Watching the other guy as he slowly falls asleep. He sits where he was a few minutes ago, on the other bed, lighting a cigarette again as his eyes brush on Curt's form. Then they stop on his leg, the prosthetic one. He had forgotten to take care of that. He bites off his grumble.

That was the first thing he should have done. Chimera cared much more about Curt's leg than Curt himself.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

Curt's rather comfortable. Eyes closed, barely felt anything besides maybe a prick or two. It didn’t hurt anyway.

He didn’t really reply, feeling fatigue drag at his body. His head lightly tilted away from David.

“I don’t need praise. But I’ll take it.”

[philippe-muller]

You seemed a bit tense, that's all.

David's voice is tired and softened a bit. He wipes Curt's skin, patching him up without another word. Curt is falling asleep anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time, he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

“You know my name. Use it.” Curt mumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you used it. I’m not asking the whole name, but my first name is Curt. You know it.”

His head gets more comfortable against the bed. He’d typically enjoy his body getting comfortable, but that was being preoccupied by getting stitched up. Or something.

He yawned slowly.

“Are we done yet?”

[philippe-muller]

Be patient.

The needle passes through Curt's skin. David hands his shaking a bit, with nothing to study itself. It feels just how it felt when his other hand wasn't cut yet. When it was shaking every damn time he tried to use it. He doesn't want Curt to know he's struggling thought.

You're doing great, just a little more.

He grins, knowing Curt couldn't really see him, but now that the pain and the hurry were out of the way, it seems easier to come back to their old ways. Curt wasn't going to kick him because he tried to help. Well, he hoped so.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

“You are not going to drug me for a month.”

Curt really didn’t have any jurisdiction over that, however. And he made no move to do anything, comfortable on the bed that was being wheeled around. His eyes squint at the bright light, but he’s unbothered otherwise. His attention just stays on David. Or, at least for a moment. He really didn’t need to see the other poking around at his stomach. Not when he’s being cut open, or whatever the other was doing.

He wasn’t exactly sure because he’s not wanting to watch. Curt opted to close his eyes instead.

[philippe-muller]

Don't fall asleep on me, Mega.

He grumbles but doesn't say more than that. He's focused on the task, cutting bits of Curt skin, just what's necessary so he can remove the splitting part of the bullet. There's only a few, 3 or 4, but he wants to make sure he doesn't forget any of it.

His other hand is sponging the blood. He grabs the last split, dropping it next to the bullet and the other on the metallic plate next to him.

There, half way done.

He sighs before starting to sew Curt back on. That's always the most tricky part to do with one hand. He often managed it but really slowly.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

“I am not napping for four weeks.”

Curt blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t dare look at the needle that had been pushed in then whatever it does. He didn’t care. His eyes blinked slowly. It’s hard to keep himself awake.

“So, where are we going?” He asked. “I thought that room was nice.”

[philippe-muller]

Oh, you are. I'll force you to. And as your doctor, I am so allowed to drug you for a full month.

He snorts, not answeringthe other question and pushing the door of the operating room. It's not very big and there is no one else either. This was the kind of surgery he could do on himself anyway. He didn't want to see any of the petty, incompetent nurses today. He settles Curt's bed under the bright light and gently pushes on Curt's injury again, his other hand grabbing a few tools, waiting to see if the liquid has done its effect or not.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt felt rather content, lacking in his care about the blood he’s losing. He’s not a doctor. He wasn’t going to look down and judge how badly that might look. He had David doing his job for that. Besides, he just felt tired. A bit sluggish maybe. He didn’t need to move so he wasn’t concerned about that.

It’s a moment before he noticed the cleaning lady. “How’s your day?” There’s nothing he gets back. He hesitated, before adding. “Day’s pretty blue out there.. Think it might rain?” He questioned. Again, nothing. He rolled his eyes. He opted to not talk to the cleaning lady any further. Which, thankfully, David returned. So he didn’t have to entertain himself.

The other held a needle.

“Use it. Maybe I won’t feel your finger ripping at my flesh this time.” He scoffed, rubbing an eye idly with a small yawn.

“Conscious? I don’t know. Five. I kind of want a nap. It’d be nice. You mind if I do that while you patch me up? Or.. Should I continue to be displayed like a pile of meat on here?”

[philippe-muller]

Alright.

He clears his throat, Curt still has the energy to be fucking annoying, maybe it's not so bad after all

You'll have all the time for a nap in the 4 next weeks.

He slowly pushes the needle, near to the wound, releasing cold liquid under Curt's skin. Then he walks up again, grabbing Curt bed's handles and pushing the bed out of the room. If Curt falls asleep, he'll have to slap him back to consciousness, a simple mesure of security, of course.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

“Sure you will.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm.

His hands covered over his injury once more, eyes closing. Curt didn’t even bother wiping his tears away. David’s probably seen grown men cry out like this before. It wasn’t great, but he didn’t care. He’s a spy. This was painful to deal with.

“I’m not going to argue. I’ll take whatever you give me.” He mumbled quietly, not even opening his eyes.

[philippe-muller]

David walks fast in the corridors to the place where they keep most of the medicine. He didn't have time to lose, actually. Curt was slowly bleeding out. He needed to transfer him to another room, maybe give him a transfusion afterward if it took too much time. He rushed through the boxes, grabbing a needle, pushing some liquid inside. It will make things easier, quicker.

The cleaning lady is walking to Curt room, unlocking a door, and without a word or a look to the man, she starts to clean the floor. Chimera's people were like that, distant. Most weren't really there on their own will.

After a bit, David rushes back through the door, not closing it this time. He has a needle in hand. He doesn't talk to the cleaning lady. he just sits back where he was before presenting the needle to Curt.

Just something to numb you out, alright?

Curt looked, mortified, much more white, his skin slowly losing colors. David thinks he's going to take him to the block right now, he doesn't have time for all the blabla, he needs to sew him up.

In a scale out of ten, how conscious do you feel?

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.

[special-ass-agent]

“David.”

Curt’s voice snapped at him, between gritted teeth. He glared. His hand didn’t let go, but he did calm down. Body stopping its jerking in response to the pain that had blossomed.

“You should’ve warned me. Not my first time having a bullet removed, but I’ve always been told when they’re plunging anything into me!” He complained on. He blinked back tears. “Asshole.”

[philippe-muller]

I will, I will next time, alright?

He puts the clamp down, instead staring a Curt's tears. It's stupid but he's hesitating between wanting to smear them, make sure they never come back or just make the other man cry more. He takes the insult, though, he can admits he deserves it and Curt wants to be angry so be it.

I'm getting you a local anesthesia. Don't argue

He shush him out before getting up and walking out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

[special-ass-agent]

David walks into Chimera New York's clinic, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He's not really thinking much as he passes the few hospital room they had in the compound.

Roughly, he opened the door of room 13 for minor injuries. Knowing Chimera, it could go from a broken limb to heavy stabing in vitals points. He didn't really agree with their way of treating patients, but it was a long work to redo the whole organization and not one he would initiate himself.

There, on one of the beds, the others completely empty, was Curt Mega, his shirt full of blood as well as the sheet, he was looking at the ceiling, eyes completely blank, provably to focus on something else than the blood. His hands were pressing his stomach, probably where the wound was.

David smiles, knowing Curt was in that state because he had asked to see him himself. It may seem bad for now, but at least he could assure that Curt would be treated correctly. He walks to the bed. Curt had been here for a few months by now, but they had not seen each other since the day they had burned Owen's house down.

Hello Mega, doing good?

for when u have time @philippe-muller (goodmorninggg)

CHIMERA is.. Different, to what he expected. Though, his expectation had been especially low. He expected something more glamorous and high-tech. Especially with the leg they ended up giving him, with all the maintenance and little tests they have him do at times.. But, he reasoned it was because of being a new agency, they didn’t have everything they wanted. Curt didn’t question it

It’s his second time getting injured on the job, while being part of CHIMERA.

The first time had been easier, less issue. A bandage had been smacked on with insistence on resting. He hadn’t listened, simply went back into the field to work. Which, he hadn’t heard anything in terms of going against a doctor’s orders and that was a month or two ago. Now he’s here again. With a worse wound.

His head stayed staring up at the ceiling. The pain flowing like the blood he had tripping out of him. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding. He didn’t dare look, of course. His hand was firmly pressed against himself, not wanting to let any blood through. He bit his lip, trying not to gag at the mere thought.

Curt smelled smoke, before hearing him.

He already knew who that’d be.

His head slowly turned, gaze strictly staying on the other now. “David.” Curt greeted with a polite smile. “I’m doing okay. I don’t think that’ll last long, if you suddenly decide to cut me open like a carcass. Now that would be an issue.” He mused.

[philippe-muller]

He sits in the bed next to Curt's, analyzing the man. Curt was trying to remain calm, but it was obvious that he wasn't far to throw up. David grinned

Nurses told me you got shot. So I might have to. But at least the job will be well done.

He smashed his cigarette against the metallic part of his arm before throwing the remains in a bin near by. When working in the Chimera's compound, he liked to roll up his left sleeve to allow his prosthetic more mouvements.

Remove your hands, will you?

He's keeping his usual composed attitude, as if Curt was any patient.

[special-ass-agent]

“No talking here? Boring. Come on, David. You know me. At least grant me some actual conversations. Curt mumbled.

His hands slowly shuffle off. But he caught sight of red on his hands, and the churning thoughts of David needing to cut him open hadn’t done him numbers. A single hand returned, as he suddenly sat up and turned away. He vomited, of course. Onto the floor. Once he was done, he gave a few small coughs then sheepish looked back at David.

“I managed to get one hand off.” He commented, grinning. The back hand rubbed off whatever lingered at the corner of his mouth.

[philippe-muller]

David was staring at him in disbelief. He knew blood would make Curt feel light weight but he didn't know the man could actually throw up. And then way he had done it too. He can help the laugh coming out.

Well done- Damn Mega..

He can't stop himself from laughing. A joyful laugh, as if he hadn't laughed truly in a long time.

It's fine, I can get you something to numb your arm, you won't feel a thing.

that idea annoys him a bit, but he'd rather not have Curt throw up again. He gets up, handing a paper bag to Curt before talking to a speaker on the wall next to the door.

We need a cleaning unit in room 13.

He turns back to Curt.

Take out your other hand and please try to not look at it.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t laugh! Come on!” Curt complained, a light flush on his face out of his own embarrassment. It didn’t help when the other had to call a clean-up crew. That’ll be fun, facing that when he’s bandaged up.

His free hand takes the paper bag, holding it close. He briefly spat in it.

“Alright. Don’t laugh anymore. I’ll walk out and ask someone else for help. I thought waiting for you would be nicer. I guess not.” He rolled his eyes, hand slowly peeling away from his stomach. However, he feels like it was a challenge and looks down at the bloodied hand. Which, of course, sets him off. He’s gripping the bag with both hands, now vomiting into that now. His body shuddered.

[philippe-muller]

Damn it.

The smell was starting to become unberable, he opened a window quickly, biting back a laugh when Curt threw up again, in the bag at least, this time.

I thought you could obey orders better than that.

He's smiling, walking back to Curt again, his eyes analyzing the wound this time, how the bloody shirt was covering most of the injury, sticking to the skin. Where Curt had been shot was dangerously near any vital point. Thank God the bullet had not gone through, Curt wouldn't be able to bear being laid on his back if it had. His smiles disappear pretty quickly. He very slowly grabs the shirt, pulling it up and off the skin to see the injury better.

You're lucky with that one, Mega. Very lucky. How did you get that?

He was trying to make him talk so Curt wouldn't focus on the blood and, well, throw up again.

[special-ass-agent]

“At least you didn’t laugh this time.”

Curt mumbled, clearing his throat and folding the top of the bag close.

His eyes briefly shut, when the shirt is removed, before they opened once more and solely staring into David’s eyes. After all, that worked before. Why change something that isn’t flawed? “You talk about orders, as if you’ve been handing my missions out. I haven’t even seen you out in the field. So, I think I’m the one that’s thriving here. I follow orders on who actually give me proper ones.”

He rolled his eyes. “Some stray bullets, I wasn’t paying attention. The blur of a moment. It was wonderful, I’d kill to get back to work as soon as I can.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll make sure you stay in bed the time you need to.

His eyes cross Curt's gaze before focusing back on the injury. He snorts when Curt does his little comment.

You do know I'm managing a good part of missions, right? I don't just sit there all day.

He puts on a glove on his right hand pretty quickly. His second hand, the robotic one, isn't precise enough to do this kind of work.

Tell me more, what were you doing?

[special-ass-agent]

Curt groaned in annoyance. He didn’t need to be bed-bound for too long. He had better things to do. If he wanted to be like he was before joining CHIMERA, he’d take off the prosthetic.

He’s happier when he worked.

“I never said you sat here all day. I assumed you worked open patient wounds and stitched them up all the time. So.” He shrugged. “So do you have to get custom gloves for your robotic one or is it fitting fine with the generic kind?” He mumbled.

[philippe-muller]

I do that, too. I'm multi fonction.

He pushes his glasses on his nose, grinning to Curt before lowering his head down again. His fingers are pressing Curt's skin, dragging the skin to keep the wound open so he can try and see the inside of it better. maybe he's pushing on it just a bit more than needed, but he can't help it. It's been a long time since he heard Curt's panting, and he wasn't against hearing that once more.

It's fitting normal gloves. It's just not precise enough for me to use in surgery. So there that.

The bullet is there, deep under the skin. He's gonna have to remove it, which is not a surprise. But the object isn't full, or at least it doesn't look like it.

The bullet splattered. I'll take out the big part of it today. The rest must be done in surgery.

He grins, knowing Chimera didn't often practice surgery that weren't for experiments. Curt will be on his bed for a long time. The spy will take that as a bad news. but David knew the man needed rest.

And if you fucking move from this room in the waiting time, I'll take your leg privileges.

[special-ass-agent]

“Oh, I know you’re multi-functional.” Curt gave a cheeky grin.

Which, the grin is easily wiped away at the extra pressure against his wound. He couldn’t even look down to see if David was doing it deliberately. Unless he wanted to vomit. Which, he didn’t. He hated how shaky he got after expelling anything from his mouth. He exhaled sharply, a hand going to tightly hold David's wrist. “Be. Gentler.” He mentioned through gritted teeth.

He groaned in creasing annoyance. “Okay. Now you have to be messing with me. Is it because I gave you some attitude? Learn to tough up.” He complained, head leaning away from David in another sharp exhale. This experience was growing stupider the longer he stayed in there. “And you—“

He spluttered to a stop, eyes sharply turning back.

“You can’t take my leg away, if I leave!” He exclaimed, now attempting to push off David.

[philippe-muller]

I'll be gentle if you fucking calm down. throwing a tantrum like that, you sound like a child.

His prosthetic forces Curt to lie down again, applying some pression on his chest, but he freezes when the man grap his wrist and looks back at him with a consending smile.

I dont think you wanna jump and run around with a metal bit cutting inside your stomach Mega. So be still and do what I say.

[special-ass-agent]

“I’m calm!” Curt yelled, body tensing.

It didn’t help how he felt so forced down. The pressure against his chest got his heart racing, eyes blinking quickly. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrist, trying to keep him from pushing further into him. “I’m a grown ass adult, David. And I would appreciate being treated like one.” He huffed. He couldn’t get the man off him, so thankfully he wasn’t trying that. Yet.

“I’ll listen to you when you be gentler.” His own prosthetic moves to kick at David.

[philippe-muller]

Oh for fuck sake, Mega!

He grumbles, pushing away from the other man, especially at the kick. He didn't want to fight with Curt just because he was trying to save his life.

I'm treating you like a goddamn adult. Do you wanna know what's gonna happen if I don't take you for surgery?

He pushes his glasses back on his nose, sitting more straight on the other bed.

The metal is gonna cut inside you, into your vital organ. And you might die by internal bleeding.

He cocks his head, now seriously asking him like he would to a child.

You know what that is, right ?

[special-ass-agent]

“First call me Curt. You know my name is Curt.”

He adjusted himself to sit up. “And you were doing something, your hand was pressing—“ He shrugged. “All I’m asking is for you to be a bit gentler. That’s it. I’m not asking for you to keep the stupid bullet in me to destroy my body.” He complained.

“Just— Stop treating me like. Like this!” A bloodied hand gestured at David vaguely. Frustration built up into him. He’s getting fed up, and he’s done with this. He’s trying to get off the bed now. “If you aren’t going to do that, I’ll go to some other person. They’ll treat me better than you.”

[philippe-muller]

He grumbles.

I was just looking where the bullet was, just doing my work. I assure you, no one in here will do it better than me, alright?

He's tired, he had a rough long fucking day. He had hoped seeing Curt would be easy, just like seeing an old friend. That had been a stupid thought.

Please stay on the bed or you'll fucking bleed out. And fine, I'll stay quiet.

[special-ass-agent]

“But they would address me by my first name properly. And wouldn’t be so snippy with me. Maybe I’d prefer them.” Curt was bluffing. It’s nice to see someone familiar. Even if they were being a bit of an asshole.

David was the best he’ll get. Even if he had to put up with him.

He returned to the bed, trying not to look down at his injury and ignoring the aching. He bit his lip. “Just.. Be gentler. That’s all I ask. Just felt like you were going to rip me apart or something. I’d like to work still? After all this.”

[philippe-muller]

I'll have to rip you appart Curt and you'll be able to work because of it.

The name was forcefully spat out before he leans back, focusing on the injury, grabbing à few tools on the way, first he cuts Curt's shirt.

I'll be more gentle.

He grins before pressing his hand around the injury. on purpose this time.

[special-ass-agent]

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll vomit.” Curt mumbled, eyes settling on David once more. A frown dancing on his own lips. “I mean, I appreciate it. But you can lie sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be allergic to softening blows and sugarcoating things. I like that a bit.”

He appreciated him using his first name. Despite it being obviously spat out.

“That was my favourite shirt..” He whispered.

Curt doesn’t have time to comment further, when the hand against him got his body reacting harshly. His knee springs up in response to the touch, with his head turning away and his eyes screwing shut. “Sorry! Does your hand have to press that hard?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

[philippe-muller]

No. I didn't have to. I'll buy you another shirt.

His hand pushes Curt back down again, this yime much more gently. Without a warning and as they have done many times, he takes a clamp, going inside the injury to grab the bullet. He's aware that it hurts a lot, but he had offered Curt to numb him before that a few times, and the other had not picked on it. So Curt will have to go without it for now.

I don't see why lying would be relevant here Mega, you asked me not you to treat you like a child.

[special-ass-agent]

Again, a bloodied hand went to grip onto David’s wrist. Clawing at him now with his fingernails. Curt’s body writhed in pain. He let out a yell. His legs were coming up and trying to kick off David too. He might have refused numbing before, but he would’ve appreciated it anyway!

“Jesus Christ!— David— Oh— Fucking hell! Stop!” He insisted, eyes snapping open. Tears beginning to drip down his face. He would’ve appreciated a warning. At the bare fucking minimum!

[philippe-muller]

Curt.

His voice softened, he stops his movements, waiting for Curt to calm down and for his fingernail to stop digging into his skin. He looks at him for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

it's gonna have to be done anyway.