An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: As a fresh faced recruit new to the military life, Quentin is scared, lost, and alone with nobody by his side.
Chapter Tw/Tags: No Dialogue But Inner Dialogue, Minor Violence, Implied Illegal Activities, Minor Blood, Internal Conflicts, Manipulation, & Power Imbalances
Down Below is a bit of the fic shared;
It was a brazen trap. A load of hot steaming shit. Panic nearly consumes him, not entirely knowing they're set on stomping the light under their feet.
It wasn’t that Fao had been doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, but he also hadn’t been doing something that he strictly should have been. And of course, it had gone badly. It always went badly when you were pushing the boundaries of what you were meant to be doing.
Checking out a bar that was doing more than it should, Fao had been having a nice evening when he’d had a knife pulled on him. Of fucking course, because why not? He thought he’d gotten away without getting hit, but right at the last moment one of his attacker’s mates had pulled another knife, and slashed right down his back. Straight across his shoulder blade, and it was murder.
He’d managed to get himself home, got Ely to patch him up (though she swore at him the entire time, told him he was an idiot and she hated him, and was very pale by the time she’d finished). He looked after it the best he could, but it was deep and it hurt and he couldn’t see it very well.
It had been getting better, but the past few days it had been worse. Painful, and really hot. But Fao couldn’t see it properly, just because of where it was, and he struggled to give it a thorough clean when he started getting worried about it. He didn’t dare tell Ely, and then she went away for a few days, some anaesthetics conference somewhere.
In the end, he had to admit defeat, and headed down to see Steve. At least he could give it a proper look at and clean. And Ely wouldn’t be there to tell him off. Hopefully the fact he’d been freezing cold for the past few days, and consistently nauseous was just a coincidence.
“Steve?” He called.
Steve appeared out of his office, frowning at Fao. "Afternoon, Faolan. Everything okay?"
“Faolan?” Fao echoed. “Oddly formal, Fao’s fine. Can you take a look at something for me?”
"What have you done this time?"
“I got this cut the other day, it’s just gotten more and more sore over the past couple of days, I’ve felt a bit run down with it too.” He said. “Take a look for me?”
Steve narrowed his eyes. "How deep of a cut?"
“Ely threw a few stitches in it for me.”
"For fucks sake, Fao." He rested his head against the doorframe, his jaw clenching. "Go sit down."
“It’s Fao now, is it?” He shot back, perching on the edge of the bed.
"What would you rather?" Steve asked, rummaging in the drawers. "Idiot?"
“Fao is fine.” He retorted, and pulled his shirt off over his head. “What do you think? Does this look infected to you? I can’t see it properly.”
Steve took a steadying breath. "What do I think? I think you're even more of an idiot than I thought."
“I’m going to take that as a yes?”
"Yeah, it's a definite yes. Let me get the local, I'll be nice."
“Oh, I get basic human decency do I?” Fao grumbled. “Guess I’ll get comfortable, then.” He settled on his stomach, comfortable so Steve could work.
"You know the rules. You fuck up, you deal with it."
“I didn’t fuck up! I got it sorted as soon as I got home.”
"I like Ely as much as the next person, but she's not able to deal with this sort of thing. You should know that. Her skills don't lie in the surgical area."
“When I came back with it, none of you guys were around. She might not be a surgeon but she has enough skills to close a wound. She cleaned it at the time and made sure to take it slow, I told her everything I wanted doing and she did it. What else was I supposed to do?” Fao grumbled.
"Come to one of us sooner. We can't afford you to get ill."
“Except it was fine.” He said grumpily. “Just fix it and I’ll fuck off out of your hair.”
"Yeah, it really looks fine."
“Yeah, well, I’m here now. Fix it and I’ll leave you in peace.” Fao couldn’t help but snap. If Steve kept on being a dick, he’d end up storming out and trying to get Finn to sort it later.
"Watch your tongue."
Fao sat up, wincing. “Seriously?”
"Lie back down and let me sort it out."
“I will, when you stop acting like a dick to me.”
"You got yourself into this mess, shut up and let me fix it."
Huffing, Fao settled back down on his front, his head resting on his forearms. There was no point getting into an argument with Steve, they’d just both end up frustrated.
"Try stay relaxed, okay? Just going to give you the local."
Fao hummed. “Sure.”
"Sharp scratch."
Fao exhaled, ignoring the sting. He was quiet for a moment, letting Steve finish what he was doing to make sure the whole area was numb. “Have you been busy?”
"Busy enough."
“Anything interesting?”
"Not really. I wasn't meant to be here today."
“Oh? It wasn’t me, was it?”
"No. Not you."
“Good. Didn’t want to have left you in the lurch.”
"I couldn't get any overtime at the hospital either."
“Didn’t fancy a day to yourself? Lie in and that?”
His jaw tensed. "Not today. Can you feel that?"
“Mm, no. All numb.”
"Good. I'm going to start, okay? Let me know if you need a break."
“I’ll be fine. You going to open it an’ clean it?”
"I'm going to have to. It's all infected."
“Alright.” He said softly. “Am I okay like this? Got enough light?”
"You're fine." He said tiredly. "Just stay still."
“Okay, yeah.” He said softly. “Shout if you need me to move.”
"You're fine." He repeated. It wasn't easy work, but he'd done it a thousand times over. He knew he had to focus, and it allowed him to pull his attention to make sure he did it right.
The more time dragged on, the harder it was to ignore them, ignore the squeal of tyres and the scrape of metal biting against metal. He was grateful as he finished the final few sutures, dropping the instruments into the tray with a clatter. He shoved it on the side and discarded his equipment.
"That's done." Steve said sharply, stalking off and slamming the door behind him. He couldn't breathe, the grief rising to his throat and strangling him. Fao would need antibiotics and fluids, but he just needed five minutes, needed to get back in control; he was no use to anyone like this.
It had been a painful, awkward silence as Steve worked, the older man clearly not interested in conversation. He was very different to the Steve Fao knew normally, who would have told him off but at least teased him and made jokes as he sorted it out. All he could hear now was just his breathing, and the sound of him working. It didn’t hurt, though, and Fao could just sit through it, letting his mind wander to other things. He’d even managed to doze a little, comfortable on his front.
Steve dropping his stuff with a clatter brought him back to reality, making him jump. His voice was cold, and he heard him walk away, the door to the office slamming behind him.
Slowly, Fao sat up, mindful he’d been laying down for ages. Steve hadn’t emerged, as he glanced around the basement, and he frowned. “Steve? Are you alright?” He called, standing up to go and knock gently in the office door. “Is everything okay? Do you want me to leave? I can come back later…”
Steve took a shaky breath to steady himself, clearing his throat before he spoke. "Everything's fine. You need antibiotics."
He pulled the door open, pushing past Fao. "You'll need IV."
Fao frowned, stepping back. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He didn’t even protest the notion of IV, too confused by the way Steve was acting.
"I've said everything is fine. Do you want to sit on the sofa? Or the bed?"
“Uh, bed?” Then he was a little more out of the way. And maybe he could nap, stop bothering Steve about things.
"Right. Get yourself settled down."
Fao sat, still very on edge. He was perched on the edge, uncertain. He didn’t want to piss Steve off any more.
Steve sorted out the antibiotics, as well as some fluids, and signed them out before heading across to Fao. "Arm?"
Fao offered it wordlessly, looking at his lap.
Steve didn't bother with the usual small talk as he tried to find a vein. The infection certainly wasn't helping, and he struggled more than usual. Eventually, he seemed to have one he thought he'd be able to use, flushed it, and sat back.
“All okay? Sorry they’re so shit.”
"Does it hurt?"
“No, it’s fine. Shoulder’s hurting though.”
"You can take some paracetamol for it."
“Alright, yeah.”
"Do you need something else?"
“No, no. I’m sure paracetamol will do the job, I’ll take some when you’ve finished with this.”
Steve narrowed his eyes, giving the antibiotics and connecting the fluids. He stood with a quiet huff, grabbing some paracetamol and passing it to Fao. "There."
Fao hummed his thanks, avoiding Steve’s gaze as he took the tablets dry. He wasn’t about to complicate matters by asking for water.
He glanced over at Fao. "Have you taken them?"
Fao nodded. “Yeah.”
"Really? Couldn't wait for a glass of water?" He muttered to himself, turning away to tidy up.
“Didn’t want to bother you for one.” He said simply. “Less work for you.”
"Until you choke."
“I’m careful, don’t worry about it.” He said. “Besides, if I choked it’d be less work for you overall.”
"Might as well just leave you to it."
“Exactly.” Fao muttered, swinging his legs up onto the bed. He was too sore to lay on his back, so he settled on his side (he’d get tangled in his IV on his front) and closed his eyes.
Steve let him sleep. He didn't have the energy to continue with Fao. He also didn't trust him not to do anything stupid, so that meant he had to stay in the basement too.
It was a distraction, whether good or not didn’t matter, not really. But the longer he worked in silence clearing and cleaning up, the more his head caught up with him. Distracted, he sent his coffee mugclattering to the floor, where it shattered into pieces. He swore loudly, the pile of folders he'd just dumped on the side toppling to the floor too. He yelled in frustration, and swiped the rest of the bench clear before dropping his head to his hands.
Fao startled at the ruckus, quickly sitting upright, his heart pounding. A little disoriented, he half expected to see his uncle throwing things across the room, but quickly realised it was Steve.
He didn’t want that anger turning back on him, and so he settled back down, eyes closed. If Steve thought he was still asleep, he couldn’t be mad at him.
It wasn’t long before Fred appeared in the doorway, having heard the noise from his office.
“What the fuck is going on down here?” He exclaimed as he walked in, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Steve. His voice immediately softened, and he crossed the room to the other man. “Steve? What are you still doing here? I thought I’d sent you home.”
Steve turned, hand pressed to his lips and tears in his eyes. "I couldn't."
“You’re just as daft as the boys.” He said fondly. “I don’t expect you to be working, today of all days. You were supposed to take today to look after yourself.”
"I had to do something. I couldn't go back." He admitted quietly.
Fred reached out to squeeze his arm. “You need rest.”
"I can't."
“I know you want to stay busy, but they wouldn’t want you working yourself to the bone.” Fred said gently, his voice low. “At least come upstairs and be with us?”
"Fao needs someone to keep an eye on him."
Fred finally noticed Fao, curled up on one of the beds, looking asleep. “Ah. Can’t he come up too?”
"He'll need to be back down for some more antibiotics. And I need to clean all this up."
“Let me help.” Fred offered, crouching to start to clear the floor.
Steve stuck his arm out. "No, don't. It's my fault."
“That doesn't matter, I'll help you.”
"Fred, please. Just let me finish up. I'll come up later, bring Fao up too."
“Let me help you out, though.”
"No." He pushed Fred's hands away. "I've said no."
“Come on, don’t be so stubborn.”
"I'm not." He said sharply.
“Steve…”
"So I can't do anything now? I can’t come to work, can't tidy up this crap?" He turned away, shoving things roughly onto the bench, and muttered under his breath. "Can't fucking save them."
“Hey, hey. Nobody is saying you can’t do things. I told you not to come in because I thought you needed time for yourself. I’m trying to help you tidy up, not say you can’t tidy up.”
"Whatever."
Fred sighed. “What would they say about you being so stubborn, hmm?"
Steve didn't move. He hadn't expected Fred to bring them into it again. He turned away, heading into the office and shutting the door sharply.
Rolling his eyes, Fred set about finishing clearing things up. He threw what remained of Steve’s coffee mug away, and cleaned the floor. He didn’t know how best to rearrange the bench; the basement wasn’t his domain, after all, and so he left it.
He’d not seen Fao jump inches when the door slammed, and instead headed out of the room. He’d tried his best and he’d not managed to get through to him. He’d try again later, give him his space for now.
Meanwhile, Fao hadn’t slept at all, overhearing the whole conversation. It dawned on him then that Steve wasn’t being a dick for no reason. Everyone knew he was with Fred because he’d lost his family, and Fao realised it was more than likely an anniversary of some description. That explained why he was a bit touchy, why he’d been so upset with Fao.
Fao felt bad. He’d caused fuss for Steve when he’d obviously just wanted to be on his own. But he couldn’t go anywhere now, he still had fluids running. He wanted to apologise, but he’d wait until he emerged from the office, rather than seek him out.
Steve had locked himself in the office and slid down the door, head in his hands and wood hard against his back. He'd tried so hard to keep it all together, but it hadn't worked. It never did. The sobs weren't unsurprising, but unwelcome, and he did his best to stay quiet. He'd made enough noise for Fao already, and it wouldn't be fair on him - he knew he'd been short with him too.
Fao didn’t hear anything at first, the basement oddly quiet after the shouting and slamming doors. But soon enough he was sure he could hear crying. Oh, Steve.
It broke his heart to hear him like that, and Fao drew himself up to sitting. He was torn, didn’t know whether to go to him or leave him. He wanted his peace, probably. He didn’t want to be seen crying, and he doubted he wanted Fao when he’d been the source of his frustration.
Eventually, Steve emerged, his eyes red despite his efforts to hide his tears. He glanced over at Fao, a flare of embarrassment as he saw he was awake. He swallowed thickly.
"Your fluids are pretty much done. You can go back upstairs."
“Oh, thanks.” Fao murmured, not looking at him. “Do I need to keep the cannula?”
"Yeah, I'll wrap it for you."
“Thank you.” He murmured, offering Steve his arm.
He worked quickly, making sure the cannula was tucked away and not likely to be pulled or caught. "There, it's done."
Fao stood up, turned to leave and then paused. “Steve?”
"What?"
Fao wrapped his arms around Steve, pulling him close. “Thank you. For everything.”
Steve tensed, suddenly choked up. He returned the hug, careful of Fao's injury. "Thank you Fao."
Fao sighed happily, glad Steve had returned his hug. “I know today’s a shit day an’ all… but you’re family to us, too.”
He squeezed his eyes shut to stop his tears, holding Fao tight. That meant more to him than the kid would ever know, and he knew he didn't deserve them.
