#thefirstdegree

[fleur-de-lit]

@thefirstdegree​ (cont.)

   “Wait, what-” Oh dear God. He knew it was a bad idea to challenge Gat, but he didn’t think he’d take it seriously. Just the voice he used had his stomach doing a flip.

“C’mon man!” Oh no oh no, he could feel how absolutely red his face was turning, and he could only hope his complexion did something to hide it. He was not going to get turned on by this, damnit! It was his damn right hand man!

Too bad the rest of him didn’t care.

[fleur-de-lit]

@thefirstdegree (closed starter)

   Alex had to give them credit- the Syndicate was sure fucking annoying. He dashed into an alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster as he reloaded his gun.

Fuck.

Fucking Hell.

He was out of fucking bullets.

   Tucking the gun back in the holster, Alex slid out his knife. Fine, be it that way. He’ll take them all out with a goddamned knife! Better than cowering in an alley waiting to be shot.

With a yell, Alex charged to take out what Morningstars he could.

[fleur-de-lit]

[ sacrifice ]

nightmare :   my  muse  coming  to  your  muses  aid  when  they  awake  from  a  nightmare.

   Woken from his sleep by a voice, it took a moment for Alex to realize that Gat was muttering in his own sleep. Damn, they must’ve fallen asleep watchin’ that shitty movie.

“Hey.” Alex was careful as he gave him a gentle nudge with his foot, not wanting to startle him. “Wake up.”

   The sharp intake of breath and the momentary still was enough to let Alex know he was awake, and he moved over to Gat’s end of the couch then. “Want to see some weird shit I found online?”

He hadn’t, of course, but Alex wasn’t going to either make Gat talk about it or ignore the signs of the nightmare, so he settled for finding a distraction for him instead. “Fuckin’ slow ass driver got what was comin’ to ‘em-”

[fleur-de-lit]

drunk

drunk :   my  muse  takes  care  of  your  muse  while  they  are  in  a  drunken  state.

   “C’mon big guy, think you’ve had enough.” Alex pries the (empty) bottle from Gat’s hand, setting it to the side. “Party ended awhile ago.” 

He ignored any slurred protests, grabbing Gat’s arm to put over his shoulder to help him stumble to his room- making sure to grab a bin to place by the bed as well. That was going to be a nasty hangover. 

“I ain’t helpin’ you out of your clothes so if you want to change you gotta do that your damn self. I’ll go get you some water and painkillers for the morning.”

[fleur-de-lit]

[ spike ]

[ spike ] Your muse helps mine after finding them woozy from a laced drink.

     “’m fine.” Alex was, quite obviously, not fine. Even as he tried to push away to stand-up on his own, he swayed and crashed back against Johnny’s side. He grunted, trying to ignore just how badly that hurt, and was taken by surprise as Gat just... picked him up.

“No no shit put me down-” Thankfully Alex was able to get free in time to crash back down to the ground and puke away from his friend.

Great. Now not only did he hurt worse, but his mouth tasted like shit. Alex groaned, rolling over away from the putrid liquid, closing his eyes to feel the cold concrete against his cheek. Maybe, maybe he’d just rest here. His head swam far too much to even think about getting back, and what he could think about seemed far too difficult.

   A voice jostled him out of his thoughts, the feeling of a hand on him, and if he had the energy he would’ve jumped. Gat. It was just Gat, he was here, remember? 

“Wwwwwwwwhat?”

[fleur-de-lit]

bed

bed :   my  muse  wakes  up  in  the  same  bed  as  your  muse  with  little  recollection  of  the  night  before.

   Dear fuckin’ God, this is why he’d stopped trying to keep pace with the other damn guys. Hell. It was fuckin’ embarrassin’ how hard his head was poundin’.

And, oh, yupp, that’s Gat in bed next to him. 

He was absolutely blamin’ this headache on Gat.

   Alex made a groaning noise, patting his hand around until he found the other’s face. “Johnny, fuckin’, you as hungover as I am or can I bully you into gettin’ water bottles-”

[fleur-de-lit]

trail

trail :   my  muse  watches  as  your  muse  traces  one  of  my  muses  scars,  asking  them  about  it.

   Alex was still, very still, as he felt the ghost of Johnny’s fingertips glide over the marred skin on his back. An ugly looking one, he knew, but Alex couldn’t think of that with his heart in his throat.

“Does it still hurt?”

   It took a moment to register the question, and even longer for Alex to trust his voice. “Ain’t so much pain as it bein’ tight, like my skin is too small.” He gave a small shrug, trying to ignore the goosebumps as the feeling of that touch moved ever so slightly. “You get used to it. Ain’t like I can do shit about it, can’t even really reach enough to use lotion.”

[fleur-de-lit]

[ sick ]

[ sick ] Your muse cares for mine while they are unwell.

   “You’re going to catch this shit if you keep comin’ in.” Alex said by way of thanks as he sat up to take the soup filled mug from Gat.

Too bad his sinuses were too damn clogged to taste it. He sighed and settled for holding it up to his face to feel the steam.

   “Fuckin’... thanks, though. But seriously, if you insist on doin’ this shit for me, at least take some damn vitamins or somethin’.”