I promised a blood test and turns out it's happening in the AU I am pretending not to dignify. You know what we say about intrusive writing thoughts around here...
Masterlist (the original AU post and the second drabble)
“Just tell me when you’re ready,” Harrison says quietly, almost like he’s testing the weight of the words, the sentiment itself.
“Shut up.” Aiden clips, curling his hands into fists in his lap. He fixes his gaze out the window. It’s the turning point between seasons. One day soon, all of the trees will have visible green, but for now they’re all holding their breath, blossoms and bulbs, waiting for some invisible trigger before they’ll unfurl.
He drags air into his lungs, filling them until his chest aches and then releases the breath in a long, controlled exhale. He refuses to look at Harrison and keeps his eyes locked on the little tree standing guard outside his window.
“Okay.”
Harrison ties an elastic band above his elbow and Aiden clenches his teeth together until his molars creak. He can feel Harrison’s look, hear the unspoken comment in the measured breath at his side but neither of them acknowledges it. He tenses at the chilly pass of an antiseptic wipe against the inside of his elbow. Harrison cups a hand under his arm. His touch is tentative, fingers warmer than Aiden expected. He’s still not used to the skin-to-skin contact, even after a handful of weeks.
“You have to relax your arm. No, you can keep your hand in a fist, just— Here.” He presses the smallest two fingers to Aiden's forearm to create a gentle bend in his elbow. Aiden tries not to think about what’s occupying the other fingers of his hand.
Harrison pauses long enough that Aiden flicks his gaze to his face for a split second before he has to look out the window again.
“Breathe,” Harrison says.
“Fuck you.”
Harrison sighs. “Look, we can just—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I’m not interested in dragging this out anymore,” Aiden huffs. “We’ve already given it time, it’s not going to get any easier so just do it.”
Harrison lets the silence stretch. He’s either trying to keep his temper under wraps or choosing his next words very carefully but Aiden refuses to look at him to confirm which side of the coin he caught. There’s a slim chance Harrison is just giving him an opportunity to take it back.
A bird lands on the tree, head turning like it’s taking in the standoff in the bedroom before it flies away. Aiden would fuck right off if he could too.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Harrison finally says.
Aiden stares at him.
Harrison drops the eye contact immediately, a flush crawling up his neck. “I just mean if you panic and pull away.”
He lifts a brow, waiting for Harrison to chance a glance up again.
“You already know I don’t have restraints here,” Harrison adds, on the back foot in the most satisfying way possible. If he weren’t armed with one of Aiden’s greatest fears, he’d enjoy the moment much more.
“Defensive.”
Harrison clicks his tongue. “If you’re not able to stay still, it’s a waste of our time. Not to mention that I’ll probably have to stick you in more than one spot.” He waves the needle and Aiden slams his eyes shut. “Sorry,” Harrison whispers.
It takes Aiden a minute to find his voice again. He counts the branches on the little tree. Seven coming off the spindly trunk. “I’ll be—” He pinches his eyes closed again, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’ll stay still,” he parses carefully.
“Whatever you say,” Harrison drones, tone incredulous. “Ready?”
“No.” He earns an eyeroll for his need to be oppositional. “Just do it anyway,” he grits, twisting a fistful of the blanket in his right hand.
Harrison cradles the back of his elbow, fingers wrapping all the way around his skinny arm. He leans close enough in his exacting search for a usable vein that Aiden can feel the warmth of his exhale against his skin. It sends goosebumps racing down the back of his neck. His heart thuds unsteadily in his chest.
“Breathe in,” Harrison says distractedly. He obeys just as automatically, half expecting the cold kiss of Harrison’s stethoscope against his chest. “And out.”
Instead, it’s the sharp bite of the needle. He locks his jaw against the whimper that tries to steal its way out of his throat and blinks furiously at the window without really seeing it. His stomach is already twisting, heavy with a cold, metallic panic.
“Just breathe,” Harrison coaches, releasing his arm.
He tries, fumbling through counting a shaky exhale and a longer exhale.
Harrison does something that moves the needle infinitesimally and Aiden feels hot and clammy all over. It’s a toss-up if he’ll vomit or faint if he loses control. His body seems equally uncertain, the worst of the slippery wrongness coagulates in his head one minute and his stomach the next, his awareness sliding back and forth.
“Harrison,” he groans.
“Hey, look at me.”
“No.”
“Don’t be difficult. Just listen before you pass out.”
He does, head swimming even from turning it a few degrees away from the window.
“That’s it.” Harrison nods. “Just breathe.”
Annoying that it’s easier to focus on Harrison. The concentration in his brows, the determined set of his jaw, the careful attention of his eyes. They look darker, almost brown with the light of the window behind him.
But then his grey shirt starts to look too much like his white lab coat and the ceiling could easily be made up of tiles, fluorescent lights blurring in and out as his memory conjures them into reality. It feels like he’s somehow slipping down inside his own skin, dragged downward by the heavy knot in his stomach.
“How much longer?” he grits.
“We’re almost done, you’re doing great.”
Aiden presses the back of his head against the pillow, willing himself to stay conscious. Fuzziness crowds into the edges of his vision.
“Look at me, focus on me.”
“Fuck you.”
“I am trying to help you, if you’d fucking listen to me.” Harrison presses his lips together and pulls a world-weary breath in through his nose, attention returned to his task. The needle shifts again, sending a zinging pain down Aiden’s arm. “Stay still—” Harrison claps a hand over his wrist and Aiden’s free hand snaps out to grip Harrison by the neck.
“I’ll stop if you say the word,” Harrison grits. It’s a dare, a challenge.
He digs his fingers in and Harrison answers by tightening his grip on Aiden’s wrist, breaking eye contact every handful of seconds to check the vial.
Aiden doesn’t even have to think about breathing, all he can feel is Harrison’s pulse under his hand, steady, strong.
“I have work tomorrow,” Harrison wheezes.
“Tell them it was a Grindr hookup gone wrong.”
“Jesus.” Harrison lifts his eyes to the ceiling.
“Or that you got mugged.”
“A mugger who strangles? Sure, uh huh.” Harrison squeezes his wrist before releasing it. “Okay, last vial. Ready? And keep in mind that you’ll need me conscious to take this out of your arm.”
Aiden scowls but moves his thumb onto Harrison’s jaw so he won’t accidentally crush his windpipe. He errantly wonders if he breaks skin when the switch makes him tighten his grip. As soon as Harrison’s hands are free, he uses both to hold Aiden’s arm in place.
Harrison clears his throat dramatically but doesn’t try to shake Aiden off. Instead, he bullies his expression into one of indifference as he stares down at Aiden’s arm. His nostrils flare almost imperceptibly as he breathes around the pressure of Aiden’s grip. Aside from that and the deepening flush in his face, it’s not obvious that he’s being half-strangled. Even his pulse is unhurried.
It’s not often Harriosn loses control anymore and it makes Aiden wonder if he ever really did before. Was he truly at the end of his rope just because of everything else he’d presumably dealt with upstairs at work or were all those times measured and calculated outbursts? Was he just matching Aiden’s defiance and intensity for sport? Or just to give Aiden something to hold on to?
Aiden suppresses a flinch at how on-the-nose that thought is.
It seems impossible Harrison could bridle his temper and all that contempt just because of a change in circumstance. He wonders if—
“Aiden.”
He tightens his fingers automatically and this time, Harrison’s hands join his.
“I said, ‘you can let go’,” Harrison rasps.
When he doesn’t release him, Harrison starts to pry his fingers off. “You’re done.”
His stomach bottoms out at the threat and he immediately remembers just how precarious he already feels. But then he realizes Harrison means it literally and he drops his hand.
Harrison rolls his head through a circle, one hand rubbing his neck.
Aiden slowly lifts his left arm onto his lap, like it’s an alien limb. The band is gone and there’s a little square of gauze taped to the inside of his arm. He lets his gaze skip right over it.
He grips the side of the bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I need some air.”
“Good luck with that, you look peaky as hell.”
“Fuck off.” He pulls himself upright only to be pushed back down but Harrison’s already in the doorway. The ceiling passes in a blur as his
head
hits
the
pillow
.
He blinks until his eyes focus again.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snaps but it doesn’t come out as venomously as he means it.
“For Christ’s sake,” Harrison mutters. “I’m over here.” He gives a sardonic wave as he walks in from the hall. “You passed out,” he supplies when Aiden just stares at him in confusion. “So you probably are anemic after all. Either that or it was just too much stress.”
“Don’t look so happy about it.”
“It was about thirty seconds.”
His head feels like it’s floating about six inches above where it should be.
“Drink this.” Harrison passes him a glass of orange juice.
“I’ve got it,” he snaps when Harrison follows it to his mouth.
“If you spill, it’s all you. Sheets and everything, I’m not playing that game today.”
He rolls his eyes over the glass as he drains it. When he finishes, he passes it back to Harrison, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What game?”
“Fuck you.” Harrison turns but detours to push both windows open before he leaves.
Aiden props his head on his arm and watches the sun try to make up its mind about whether or not to break through the clouds. The little tree looks on.
Masterlist
@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nick-pascal @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess
@meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump
@wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @vivisectophile
@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup
@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump
@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain
@whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps
@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump
@handsinmotion @arobear @dj-subwoofer @deluxewhump @wildliferehabstudent
