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Crow returns to his apartment after a harrowing mission, but everything is going wrong. Saint brings him home.
(On Ao3 I have this as two chapters, but it only fits into one #destcember2022 prompt, so you get both chapters in one here on tumblr. Enjoy!)
Crow lets himself into his apartment with an exhausted sigh. His whole body trembles with the effort of just standing, staying upright and making basic, normally undemanding movements after three grueling days in the field. It’s rare that his scouting work becomes so physically abrasive, but he’s spent the last three days in a game of cat and mouse with what felt like an entire legion of Wrathborn. He’d hit them hard only to be ambushed by more when he least expected it. He’d had to send out a distress call to local Guardians to even repel their forces, and had retreated back to a sniper’s perch while the other Guardians pursued Xivu Arath’s minions. He’d had to lay prone to even shoot, his body too shaky for him to even aim his gun standing.
He’d climbed into his ship, wished it to take him to take them to the Tower and let the paracausal forces take over. He’d tossed off his armor and passed out on his bunk for the short ride back. He felt like a dead man walking for the entire trip back to his apartment. He still feels ready to collapse as he pushes the door shut behind him, locking it with trembling fingers.
The silence that meets him isn’t the balm he’s expecting it to be. For the past few weeks, Crow has been spending much of his time at Saint and Osiris’ apartment. Initially, it was to help out. When Osiris was unconscious, Crow would come by to keep Saint company, to take his mind off Osiris for a while. He’d bring food, or help Saint cook or clean. After Osiris woke, it was much of the same. He’d bring food, or offer to help with little chores or errands while Osiris and Saint were loaded down with work.
Now, however, his relationship with Saint and Osiris has grown to something warm and pleasant. That isn’t to say Saint didn’t care for him before, but now when Crow goes over to their apartment, it’s because they’ve invited him over, which they seem to do every other day, if not more often. They teach him to cook meals he’s never eaten before. He and Osiris discuss the Hive, and Crow’s scouting work. With Saint, he talks about the Eliksni, and how they might better help them adjust to life in the city. Saint and Osiris have invited him into their Dawning traditions, sharing meals, exchanging gifts, watching movies, baking cookies. They’re eager to share the festivities with him. One night, after Osiris had been introducing him to a series of city-made wines and Crow had drank a bit too much, Saint had coaxed him into taking the guest room bed for the night. After that, Saint adopted a way of offering the room up for the night, and Crow has begun to feel at home with Saint and Osiris’ roof over his head, their warmth and care surrounding him.
His apartment is so silent compared to theirs. It’s so dark, so cold. As a relatively young Guardian, his salary isn’t great. The best apartment he can afford that’s close enough to the Tower to be manageable is a tiny studio apartment. To the right of the door that leads in and out are the only two rooms enclosed in the apartment, his bathroom, with a rickety old sink that probably hasn’t been tended to since before the Red War, and a shower with shitty water pressure and hot water that only works half the time. The single lightbulb overhead flickers and goes out when he’s trying to shower, and the toilet has a clogging problem. Beside the bathroom is his storage closet, where he keeps all his weapons and armor. To the left of the door is his kitchen, mostly functional given that the most he uses it for is meals that only get about as extravagant as macaroni and cheese, or maybe a quesadilla if he has the time to make it. His bedroom is a loft that sits over the kitchen. The one dazzling feature of the apartment being the massive windows at the end of the space that look out on the city below. Unfortunately, he’s sure the view he doesn’t often have time to appreciate hikes up his rent considerably, and in the winter months, cold seeps through glass, so chilling he has to go to bed under every blanket he owns, and still he shivers.
The cold hits him as soon as he enters. The city outside is covered in a blanket of snow, but Crow can’t find the beauty in it, not when he’s so worn down by stress and exhaustion. He feels like he’s going to snap, or burst into tears. He lets Glint transmat his guns and armor away, grabbing a loaf of bread from the kitchen and checking over it only long enough to confirm it isn’t moldy before he tears a hunk of it off with his teeth. He grabs the half gallon of milk from the fridge and drinks straight from the carton, hoping the minimal sustenance will be enough to get him through his shower and to bed without passing out.
“Crow.” Glint’s voice is gentle when he appears beside Crow. He turns on the light in the loft, adding a layer of illumination where the only light previously had been the dim light in the fridge. Crow caps the milk and shoves it back inside.
“I’m tired, Glint. I just want to shower and go to bed.” He’s covered in dirt and grime. He’ll need to clean his armor before he wears it again, but even with it off his body, his underlayers are matted down by the mess too. Old blood from injuries since healed clings to his skin. The evidence of fighting had marred him so badly the doorman in the lobby had yelped in surprise when they’d spotted him entering. Had Glint not been hovering at his shoulder, they probably would’ve mistaken him for an ax murderer, rather than a Guardian covered in his own blood.
“Okay.” Glint agrees quietly, his voice hesitant. “I’m just worried about you.” Crow can feel it down the bond, but he brushes it aside rather than acknowledging his Ghost and the complex feelings bound up inside him. He’s too exhausted to even consider them.
He heads to the bathroom, stripping off his shirt as he goes. When he leans into the shower to start it, nothing happens when he turns the tap. Crow feels his body stiffen. He cannot deal with this right now. He leans back, looking up towards the showerhead. Just as he moves in front of it, a burst of icy water spurts from the tap, drenching his hair and his face before it stops completely.
“No fucking way.”
He tries the other taps in the apartment. The bathroom sink sputters for a moment but only a few drops come out of it. The same happens in the kitchen, and by the time he returns to the shower to check it again, the icy cold water in his hair has seemed to seep into his scalp. The apartment has never felt so cold around him, and he feels himself shudder. Tears prickle the backs of his eyes.
“Crow.” Glint’s voice sounds again, and he drifts into Crow’s view, his voice pinched in sympathy.
“What?” Crow snaps, unable to fight the vitriol in his tone.
This is just his fucking luck. He should have just stayed in the field, or in his ship. He could have taken a bath in some half frozen lake and slept it off in his sleeping bag, or in his bunk. He wants to crawl up to his bed and pass out but there’s still blood all over his skin and he’s not willing to make a mess that big, not when things are already going this badly.
Faintly, the sound of music reaches his ears, pounding bass followed by cheers and shouts. Stomping feet sound from above the loft, and Crow presses his back to the wall and sinks down to sit on the bathroom floor. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, but can’t hold back his tears.
“I’m going to call Saint.” Glint tells him.
“No, Glint, don’t–” His voice is choked with tears. He reaches out to stop his Ghost but Glint flits out of his reach. Within seconds, Crow’s faced with a projection of Saint, smiling towards him.
Saint’s smile disintegrates as soon as he lays eyes on Crow, his mouth falling open with clear concern.
“Crow, are you alright? I thought you’d be asleep by now.” The Titan’s voice is filled with worry. Distantly, Crow can make out Osiris’ voice, but he doesn’t catch his words.
“I’m–” He breaks off, rubbing hard at his eyes as he fights to stop crying. He gasps in a shaking breath against his will, and Saint visibly softens, his whole face pure sympathy and concern. “I just got back from the field and I haven’t slept in days. The water’s not working and it’s freezing in my apartment–”
The bathroom light overhead goes out, plunging Crow into darkness. A sob tears itself from Crow’s throat.
“Crow,” Saint’s voice is honey sweet, filled with warmth so opposite to the cold apartment around him, the tile floor biting into his bare feet and the wall against his back, the icy water still in his hair.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you with this, I didn’t mean for Glint to call you I just–”
He breaks off into hiccuping sobs. He has to close his eyes against the image of Saint in front of him.
“Stay there, Crow. I will come and get you.” Saint is already standing by the time Crow opens his eyes.
“No, Saint, you don’t have to–”
“I will. I’m coming, Crow. I’m going to take you home.”
Crow hasn’t managed to stop crying by the time Saint makes it to his apartment. In fact, he hasn’t really managed to do much of anything. The first bit of tears he let slip opened the floodgates to devastating sobs, and in the time that he’s been alone with Glint, Crow has collapsed onto his side on the bathroom floor and cried harder than he has since Spider beat him to death on a regular basis.
He feels like an idiot. He shouldn’t be crying, not over something as little as being deprived of a shower, some broken lights, and loud neighbors. But deep down he gets why he’s crying. He knows it’s about much more than the apartment, and the weight he’s feeling is as much in his control as it is beyond it. He’s exhausted, malnourished and dehydrated from being on the run from Hive for three days. He’s covered in blood and dirt, his adrenaline is crashing, and he’s still hung up on the fear of being stalked like prey. He can’t help that he’s crying. It makes sense that he’s crying.
Still, he hates himself for it. He hates himself for curling up on the bathroom floor, laying shivering on the cold tiles, bare from the waist up. The cold drives into his skin until he’s numb, and he sobs and gasps even as he hears Saint knock on the front door.
“Crow? It’s me. May I come in?”
He sends Glint, because he can’t manage to form words. He peels himself off the floor as his Ghost lets Saint into the apartment, even though Saint has his own key, given to him for emergencies. He’s managed to sit up by the time Saint crouches in the bathroom doorway—the room is so small the two of them would hardly fit together—but the soft look on Saint’s face sends him spiraling straight back into sobs.
“It’s alright, Crow.” Saint reaches out to him and Crow practically throws himself into the Titan’s arms. It says a great deal about how far their trust has come over the months they’ve known each other. Crow can’t think of anyone he’d really embrace without second thought, but Saint’s very being is comfort to Crow, and right now he needs all the comfort he can get.
Saint whispers soothing words to him, gathering Crow into his arms. He lifts him up, off the tile floor, slipping him into his arms like he weighs nothing, and he carries them from the tiny bathroom. Saint carries him up the staircase to the loft. He holds Crow with one arm while he sets a towel on Crow’s bed, no doubt having noticed the blood and dirt covering Crow like a second skin, then he sets Crow down on top of it. He cradles Crow’s face in his hands, his palms heavenly warm against Crow’s skin.
“I will help you into some new clothes, then I will take you home with me, yes?” Saint tells him gently, and Crow nods his assent. “You will wash up once we get there, but I do not want you to be so uncomfortable until then.”
Crow swallows hard, but he nods again. For as long as he’s known Saint, it’s still hard not to be blindsided by his generosity. He takes care of Crow as if he were a member of Saint’s own family, embraced and looked after without condition or expectation. Saint’s thumbs wipe away some of the tears on Crow’s cheeks.
A small stack of clothes appears beside Crow, Glint’s doing, and Saint thanks him even though Crow knows he should be the one thanking him, but Saint is ever patient, and constant with his care. He helps Crow out of his old, dirty layers, steadying him when his body shakes and shudders. He helps Crow dress in the new clothes, sliding thick socks onto his feet, helping him into pants and a sweater. There’s still grime underneath, but while they work, Glint transmats a bag onto the floor and fills it with more clean clothes, pajamas and regular clothes, wool socks and the sweater Saint had gifted to him as a Dawning present.
Once he’s dressed, Saint grabs the bag from the floor before Crow can pick it up, and he offers out a hand to steady Crow as he guides him out of the loft. When Crow tries to thank him, or to tell him that he’s alright, really—though he’s still teary eyed and breathing rough—Saint just holds him a little tighter, and shushes him quietly.
The walk to Saint and Osiris’s apartment isn’t long, but it feels like an eternity to Crow. Normally, Crow can walk over in less than ten minutes. Their apartment buildings aren’t far apart, though Saint and Osiris’ is worlds nicer than Crow’s. They walk for five minutes at a slow pace before Saint lifts Crow into his arms again, and Crow must’ve started to doze off, because the next thing he knows, he’s enveloped in warm air, and the scent of home, Osiris and Saint’s voices in his ears.
“Crow?” Saint’s voice speaks softly in his ear. “I’m going to put you down now, alright?”
Crow manages a noise of understanding, peeling open his eyes to look around. He’s in Saint and Osiris’ bathroom, the tub already mostly full with steamy water. Osiris sits on the tub’s edge, using his hand to test the water’s temperature. Saint lowers him down, setting him on the bathroom counter. He pushes Crow’s hair from his eyes with a fond, sympathetic smile, and Crow can’t help the way he leans slightly into his hand.
“How are you feeling?” Osiris asks him, just as Crow feels his eyes slip closed. The effort to drag them back open is monumental.
“I’m tired.” He mumbles. “And my head hurts. I feel shaky.”
“You haven’t eaten anything in several hours.” Glint reminds him, and before Crow can bring up his little snack from when he first made it back to the apartment, he goes on. “The bread doesn’t count. You also haven’t slept more than six hours in the past three days, and I can’t correct for something like that without reviving you.”
“You will have a bath, you will eat something, and then you will sleep.” Saint tells him.
“I might fall asleep in the bath.”
Saint laughs quietly. “That’s quite alright.” He says, cradling Crow’s cheek with a hand. “I will look after you.”
He unties one of Crow’s shoes and pulls it off his foot. Crow reaches down to help, but he’s hardly untied the laces of his other shoe before Saint gently guides his hand away to do the rest himself. He pulls off Crow’s other shoe, then his socks, and pulls his sweater up, over his head.
“I will go heat up some food. Would you like soup? I believe we have some leftovers.” Osiris turns off the faucet once the tub is full, rising to his feet.
“Soup sounds great.” Crow lifts his head, offering both Saint and Osiris a weak smile. “Thank you for doing this.”
Osiris sets a hand on Crow’s knee, while Saint reaches out to hold his shoulder.
“You will always have a home here, Crow.” Osiris tells him, then gives him a smile. “Try one of the bath bombs, I believe you’ll find them enjoyable.”
A genuine smile crosses Crow’s face despite his exhaustion. A few days ago, Saint and Osiris fell into a debate of whether or not bath bombs were enjoyable, with Osiris for and Saint against, both eager to have Crow serve as a tiebreaker.
“I will.” Crow agrees.
“I will leave you to undress. I will come back to help you once you are ready, if that’s alright?” Saint asks him.
“I can–” Crow breaks off. Part of him wants to refuse, the part of him that needs to take care of himself and not show weakness, but his exhaustion is clinging to his bones, pressing down on him like lead weights. He’s not sure if he could even manage a whole bath on his own. He’s not sure he trusts himself not to fall asleep and drown. “Okay.” He agrees, giving Saint a small nod. “Thank you.”
Saint and Osiris leave the bathroom and Crow eases himself off the counter. He picks out a bath bomb from Osiris’ collection and sets it beside the tub, then slips out of the rest of his clothes. When he eases himself into the tub, the water is hot at first, but as he gets his aching limbs under the heat of the water, a sigh melts out of him, and he lays back against the end of the tub, his eyes slipping closed.
He luxuriates in the heat for a few moments before he retrieves his bath bomb and sets it in the water. It fizzes to life, filling the air with a citrusy scent, and Crow watches it dissolve. It clouds the water until it's opaque, but it makes his skin feel smooth and soft, and it might be the comfort in the face if his stress and exhaustion, but he’s pretty sure he agrees with Osiris on the subject.
Crow’s eyes are nearly closing when a gentle knock sounds on the door.
“Come in,” he calls, and Saint pokes his head in. Crow gives him a tired smile. “I’m so ready to fall asleep right now.”
Saint smiles back, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Baths often have that effect.”
Crow’s whole body feels relaxed. His head still aches slightly, and his body still feels weak from hunger, but the utter anguish and stress that had driven him to tears earlier has faded in the face of Saint and Osiris’ care. His headache already seems to be subsiding when Saint sits on the edge of the tub beside him, tilting his head back to use a bowl to pour warm water over his hair.
Saint washes his hair, running his fingers over Crow’s scalp until Crow practically melts from the touch. He scrubs the blood from Crow’s face and neck, his arms, and his back, and Crow tends to the rest. By the time he’s clean, he feels ready to collapse, but Saint slips out and Crow forces himself to stay awake. He drains the tub and rinses himself off under the shower before he dresses in the pajamas Glint had packed him. When he makes it out to the kitchen, Osiris has a steaming bowl of soup ready for him, and Crow feels more loved than he’s ever been in his entire life.
“Thank you.” He tells Osiris as he sits down at the breakfast bar in front of the bowl of soup. He imagines he will have to tell them the whole story later, not on their insistence but on his own desire to explain, but neither Osiris or Saint ask him about it. They need no explanation, no reason for the warmth and comfort they provide. They offer it without question and Crow drinks it in.
Osiris smiles at him, and Saint wraps a blanket around Crow’s shoulders, hugging him through it.
Saint repeats Osiris’ words as he holds Crow close. “You will always have a home here.”
