"That’s not how you use it…"
While it was true that Jade didn’t remember much about the boys she used to go to school with, some small tidbits remained in her memory. One such fact was that, while Stan Marsh was best friends with a certain Kenny McCormick, he had never really been as much of a troublemaker as his friend. From what little she could recall, she never really saw the black-haired boy get into trouble like his friend did. So opening the door at twelve in the morning, to find the slightly more grown-up version of a familiar face sprawled out in front of her apartment door, bleeding and reeking of alcohol, was a bit of a shock.
Jade could only thank the gods that her family was out while she tried to—quietly, because the last thing she wanted was her gossipy neighbors asking her parents why dear, sweet Jade was dragging an unconscious bleeding teenager into their apartment and, oh, she should really stay away from those trouble making types and yadda yadda—drag the boy into her apartment. Sam was immediately by her side, warily sniffing her cargo and growling lowly. The green-eyed girl shoo’d her off with a quick command and continued to drag the male’s limp form, carelessly dumping him onto her couch as soon as she was within reach.
She only hoped that her family would stay out long enough for her to get the blood stains out of the carpet and the couch. A google search was probably in order, but that would have to come later.
Truthfully, she didn’t know much about cleaning or bandaging wounds, as she’d never really had a reason to learn how to deal with that sort of stuff, but childhood accidents brought about enough knowledge for her to at least have a basic idea. So off she ran to the bathroom, throwing cabinets open and grabbing anything that looked the least bit familiar. Now, was it Witch Hazel or Alcohol that disinfected wounds? Or, wait, weren’t you supposed to use water and unscented soap or something? Jesus christ.
She wasn’t one hundred percent sure about anything at the moment, but water and soap sounded like the least painful and messy route, so she set her supplies on the counter and quickly turned on the bath tap, making sure it was at least lukewarm before she went back for her unfortunate “patient”.
By the time she trudged back into the living room, pants rolled up to her knees and shirt traded for a tank top, the rest of her dogs had gathered around the unconscious male, sniffing him, the couch, and the small bloodstains on the carpet. Thankfully, he didn’t look like he’d woken up, so that made the whole process easier on her.
With some struggle, Jade eventually managed to pull him off of the couch. He was half standing, half leaning on her, and it was probably the most uncomfortable position she’d ever been in in her entire life—the smell of blood, sweat, and alcohol not helping in the least—but it worked for the moment. Moving Stan from the couch to the tub ended up being a slow process, with lots of stumbling and bumping into things—mainly on her part—but she persevered. She’d already taken him into her house and gotten his blood and stink on her couch and floor, so there was no point in giving up.
After the fourth or fifth bruise that night, the two finally entered the bathroom.
Figuring out how to get him into the tub without causing any further injury, of course, was a whole ‘nother adventure all on its own. She could just lowered him slowly, but he might slide and end up under the water, and Jade really didn’t want to be the one putting the actual nails in his coffin, especially by drowning. It’d definitely be hell to explain to not only her family, but Kenny too—and she made a mental note to call him after she’d bandaged Stan up, since he was probably the only one who could pick him up from her apartment on such short notice.
Maybe she could just ease him in herself, and step out after he was situated…?
Well, it was probably better than dropping him in and praying for the best. So Jade shuffled her cargo a bit and carefully stepped into the tub, one foot at a time. The rapidly cooling water sloshed against her leg, and she mourned the loss of the clean liquid as soon as she began pulling Stan in. Brown, green, and red quickly swirled through the water, dying it an ugly shade that sort of reminded her of vomit. Slowly, she bent at the knees, and began lowering him down. His weight damn near threw her off, the heavy bastard. Really, she had no idea why he showed up at her doorstep, of all places. Maybe her place was the closest, or maybe she was the first person he thought of (which, in her opinion, was unlikely). Who knew.
With one finally slosh of the now-dirty water, Stan was finally submerged. The water was now more red than brown, and Jade was not looking forward to cleaning the tub after she got him out.
Getting his jacket and shirt off was probably the easiest part of the whole ordeal. The jacket came off in less than a few seconds, and all she had to do with the shirt was lift his arms. Jade had to wince when she saw the bruises and cuts, though. Jesus, what was Marsh getting into these days?
Jade leaned forward and flipped the drain switch on the tub, waiting for a few moments as the dirty water drained before turning the tap back on. Even she knew better than to try cleaning wounds with dirty water! Thankfully, there was already a large cup set aside for rinsing off in the tub, so all she had to do was fill it up to a point and pour it while she scrubbed with the soapy rag. Unfortunately, all of the actual body soap was scented. Hopefully the dish soap would do the trick.
The bathroom was filled with the sound of water splashing as she cleaned her patient up, periodically pouring clean water over the soaped up areas every minute or so. From what she could see, the problem areas were mainly on his chest and arms. If he had anything going on below the belt, well, that was his own fucking problem. He pretty much owed her for all she’d done so far anyway, and even Jade had a limit.
After what seemed like twenty minutes, she finally deemed him thoroughly washed. No infections here, no sir. But, just to be sure, Jade leaned over and snatched up the bottle of alcohol and the rag that’d been sitting with the rest of the pile on the counter. She vaguely remembered her mom cleaning really bad scrapes with something from a brown plastic bottle when she was a kid, so it was probably for a reason. And she didn’t want to be blamed for doing a half-assed job later on if he got infected anyway.
But how much were you supposed to put on these kinds of cuts? Dabs? Did you just pour it on?
…Aw, fuck it.
Setting the rag on the ledge of the tub, Jade unscrewed the cap and set it on the floor. The alcohol poured onto the rag, completely soaking it in gross-smelling, but clear liquid. However, just as she brought the soaked rag to the first cut, the male began to move. And instead of just dabbing, the rag made full contact.
Jade winced at the slurred curse that came out of his mouth and looked up, green meeting hazy blue in an awkward stare down.
Well, at least he wasn’t reacting violently or some crazy bullshit like that.
His eyes slowly dropped from hers to the rag pressed against his chest, his right eyelid twitching in what might’ve been out of pain or a drunken impulse. She honestly wasn’t sure.
“That’s not how you use it…”
Her expression fell flat.
Not how you……Oh, who died and made him the best doctor in the universe? She brought him into her apartment, hauled his ass from the door to the couch and the couch to the tub, cleaned his drunk ass, and that was the thanks she got? ‘That’s not how you use it’? It was way too early—late? whatever—for this sort of bullshit.
However, she wasn’t the type to lash out at the already-injured, even if they were seriously testing her patience. Calmly, she grabbed the large, discarded cup by the handle, and thumped it against the male’s forehead, receiving an audible thunk in response.
“shut the fuck up marsh.”