hi hello!! i am Always returning to your fics because they’re so well-written and there is so so much heart and thought behind each one- i especially adore your ashton fics, and your drabble about them carrying milo home really warmed my heart. i’ve seen many a-fic of milo looking after or worrying after ashton, but so rarely the inverse!! if it ain’t too redundant or too much trouble, do you have any more thoughts or maybe even drabbles about those two, and the ways in which ashton (maybe begrudgingly or fearfully or suspiciously) returns care to milo?
Awww, thanks for the compliments!
Okay, a little Ashton taking care of Milo.
They wake to a pebble thrown by Anni.
If Ashton wakes thrashing, it's with enough force to leave a nasty bruise, maybe break the bones of normal flesh and blood people.
"Get the fuck up. Milo fucking needs you. Now," she demands once Ashton has shown signs of waking.
Usually, Anni plays the ice cold bitch like there's nothing else she could be, but right now, Ashton can hear the faintest tremor of fear and concern in her voice. It gets them moving faster than they'd normally bother with upon first waking up.
Anni leads Ashton down to the workshop, where Milo is shoulder deep in some sort of mechanical contraption, quick, shallow pants escaping them as sweat drips down their face and pain pinches their brow.
"What the fuck?" is all Ashton can think to ask.
"Hey, buddy," Milo says, strained. "Sorry to wake you, but I'm in a bit of a literal pinch here and Anni wasn't strong enough."
It's then that Ashton notices the blood seeping up Milo's sleeve, not quite hidden in the shadows of where their arm enters the machine.
Curses spill from Ashton's lips as he stomps closer, crouching down to get a look at the damage.
"What the fuck?" he asks again. There's a metal plate back in those metal guts that's trying to sever Milo's forearm.
"Just fiddling with some of the internal gear work. Guess some shit wasn't as secured out of the way as I thought. Pretty sure it's touching bone in there," Milo explains through grit teeth.
"They had me try to pry it open," Anni says, stepping up to better angle a lantern to light the machinery trying to chew through Milo's arm. "But I kind of made it worse by knocking some other shit out of the way."
Ashton considers Anni's slender arms, the musician's precision of her hands. Compares them to his own arms, corded with muscle (though not as much as before the Fall some months ago), the unpredictable tremor that wracks his (thieving) hands.
"And you really fucking think I can do it?" they say, holding a shaking hand up for the other two to see.
"As long as you don't push this shit into severing their arm, I've got the healing to at least start fixing them up," Anni refutes. "We all know you're the strongest here."
Ashton closes their eyes and sighs. "Yeah. Okay. Fuck it. Sorry in advance if this goes fucking wrong. For your arm. Fuck this stupid thing."
That earns them an amused huff from Milo.
A moment's assessment reveals that it's unlikely that Ashton is going to get both arms in there around Milo. The opening just isn't big enough for that, though he suspects Anni might have squeezed both of her arms in there. It's also going to be difficult as fuck to see what he's doing down there, and Ashton's sense of touch is a little fucked compared to most normal people's.
They carefully shift around so Ashton can plunge his right arm, which trembles less than his fucked up left arm, into the machine. He traces his way slowly down Milo's pinned arm, pushing back anything that'll move. Even if that means it's now trying to break his stone skin. It's better than letting it bite into Milo's soft flesh.
And yeah, the metal panel has got to be hitting Milo's bones, because there just isn't a lot of room to slide his fingers in for a grip on the fucking shit. But Ashton manages it. Maybe drawing a bit of blood himself on it's sharp edge.
"Okay. I think I've got it. Tell me when you're ready," Ashton says, placing a hand on Milo's free shoulder to pull when he thinks they're free.
Anni grabs Milo's bicep, also ready to pull. "Ready."
Milo takes in a shaky breath (most of them is shaking. Probably from blood loss and/or shock). "...Go for it."
Teeth grit, Ashton flexes, pushing up and causing uncooperative metal to screech.
"Aaahhh!" Milo breathes the pain out as the cutting vice loosens on their arm.
"Come on, come on," Anni chants, hands tensing.
It's slow, but they're getting there. Prying it open bit by bit. And in the back of their head is that desire to Rage. To be stronger and just fucking rip this fucking machine apart, get Milo free.
But it's too fucking risky anymore. That weird fucking magic that Ashton has now, that spins up with each battle rage, that they can't control, could turn out gravity. And the last thing they need is more force dragging this stupid fucking metal plate through Milo's arm.
So slow and steady it has to fucking be.
They hit the floor, Milo's forearm a bloody mess.
Ashton pulls their own arm out of the machine, letting the plate fall with a demonstrative shunk, as Anni starts chanting spells instead, hands splayed and glowing over Milo's half-severed arm. Tears stream down from beneath Milo's glasses as they whimper through the pain.
By the time Anni's magic runs dry, a deep gash to the bone has been reduced to a thin, red scar surrounded by drying blood.
"Let's never fucking do that again," Ashton says into the silence.
The laugh Milo lets out is a little hysterical. "Yeah. You got it, bud. And thanks, Anni. Would have been a lot worse off without you."
"Fucking, whatever. Like the dumb rock said, don't do it again," Anni huffs, turning away to leave. "I've gotta go scrub my fucking hands. You made a fucking mess."
Milo was really fucking lucky, Ashton can't help but think. They could have ended up crippled from this shit. If no one had been home. If Ashton also wasn't strong enough. If Anni couldn't heal. That last one eats at him with burning jealousy. If she'd lived here back then, maybe–
"Come on, let's get some food in you. Blood loss is a real bitch," Ashton says, hauling Milo to their feet with ease.
Best to be glad their friend landlord is fine. Gods know where they'd live without Milo putting up with them.
