This fic is set during the Twilight Hunts mentioned a few times in the Manga which were apparently 15 years prior to the present events in the manga/anime. Doing the math, during that time Nic would be 19 and Worick would be 20. So that is the current setting. Hope you enjoy :)
It had been a slow build, truly. The way the violence had slowly but surely escalated over the past six years. For the most part, Worick and Nicolas had been kept fairly safe thanks to their working relationship with the Monroe family. But, it was getting to the point where even Monroe realized Nic needed to be pulled off the job. Everyone was wound so tight that just the appearance of a Twilight could cause an instant riot. It didn't matter what, it didn't matter who, and it was all just a cluster fuck waiting to happen.
Worick had agreed to keep Nicolas at home, but kept his own schedule of working for both Big Mama and Daniel Monroe. It wasn't that they felt Nic couldn't handle himself, at least in a fair fight. But, against an enraged mob like the ones that had sprung up unexpected once a good riot started no Twilight of any rank was safe. And lately it had gone from the stark violence and cruelty which had been the norm for six years and jumped straight to outright sadistic torture. It wasn't just beatings, rape, and murder anymore. Now Twilights were being torn apart limb from limb while they were still alive. Just last week, one had been strung up by their ankles from a bridge and lit on fire. But, that fire hadn't killed the poor bastard. No, it just burnt the rope and plunged him into the river below. He'd crawled out onto the shore and died alone in the mud, burnt beyond recognition.
So, Worick had ordered Nic not to leave their apartment. It wasn't something he liked doing, giving the Twilight orders. It just reminded him of all the horrible technicalities of their situation that could be forgotten during the best of times and swept under the rug on the average day. But, shit like this... It just made it impossible to ignore. When it came down to it, legally, Worick owned his best friend. Nicolas had been born into slavery, like many of the unluckiest of Twilights. The lucky ones, and Worick used that term mildly, were taken into the Paulklee guild or one of the mafia families where they were treated relatively well. Relatively...
It had been a long day and Worick kept his head up as he passed by one raging group of normal humans, their anger verging on a real riot and more joining their numbers each moment. They were way to close to his and Nicolas' apartment for his taste, but he just had to keep acting like he had nothing to hide. No one would suspect a twenty year old to own a Twilight, especially since he was dressed in cheap knock off clothes with a Paul Mall smoldering between his lips. No he looked like any other kid around here just making ends meet, he would be fine.
He turned the corner and found the shabby apartment building still standing, no riot within eyesight. It made him exhale the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. What had he been expecting anyway? The building to be reduced to rubble while he was gone? That was just dramatic. He snickered a bit to himself, trying to cover up his nerves with nonchalant humor. Nic would be waiting right where he left him, bored as hell and glaring at the door as if that would make time tick by faster.
The rickety stairs creaked in protest as he walked up them, though he frowned as he looked down and saw a trail of blood leading up them. But, it must be someone else's blood. Nic wouldn't disobey an order. Hell, even after six years of trying to convince the Twilight he could eat when he was hungry or take his meds without permission, why on earth would he choose now of all times to learn independence? No, it couldn't be. Just couldn't be Nic's blood.
Sure enough, the trail seemed to putter out half way down the hall, either the wound had stopped bleeding or the owner of it had ducked inside an apartment. It eased Worick's nerves as he picked up the pace and strolled toward their door. This apartment building was shit and the living conditions were one step above rat infested. But, it was home sweet dump and they could afford it without worrying about not being able to buy Nic's medication every month. Celebrer was damn expensive, without that cost they would be able to afford four times more in rent than they currently could. But, Worick had seen before what happened when he put off buying the shit. Like a dumb, spoiled kid he had put off buying it once when they first came to the city, only to have Nic to fall into violent convulsions and vomiting. He hadn't made that mistake twice and didn't plan to start. Nicolas was quiet by nature and had one hell of a pain tolerance. But, when those withdrawals had kicked in like that, Nic had strangled out horrifying screams of agony. Like he was being skinned alive and his bones snapped one by one.
Worick came to their door and reached out to unlock it, pausing when he felt something cold and wet on the handle. Turning his palm up he realized there was blood on his palm. With shaking hands, Worick unlocked the door and threw it open to find Nic sitting in the center of the room with the first aid kit strewn across the floor. He didn't even notice Worick as he closed and locked the door behind him, moving over to get a closer look at his friend.
There was plenty of blood, but not from any deep wounds. After years of fixing Nic up when he wasn't bad enough off for a visit to the doctor, Worick had gotten good at quickly figuring out how bad off his friend was at a glance. He reached down and gently touched Nic's shoulder, earning a startled gasp and jump from the other. When the Twilight turned to look up, Worick could see his face was badly beaten. His right eye was swollen completely shut and a nasty cut was over that eyebrow. A nasty yellow and blue bruise covered a swelling lump over his cheek and his lip was badly split. Just from a glance, Worick could tell his nose was broken, it was looking too flat and the swelling was nasty along with two black eyes and a lot of dark, snotty blood running out from the nostrils.
"What the hell, Nic! I told you not to leave home!" Worick said, signing in angry, jabbing hand movements as he squatted down to get a better look.
Nic grunted and moved as if to sign, but winced and cradled his hands back into his lap. Worick reached out and gently lifted them back up to see, trying not to let the panic show on his face. All of his fingers were either broken or out of joint except for the thumbs, with nasty scrapes and cuts on the palms and backs of his hands. Those long fingers of his were jacked into so many different angles, it made Worick's own hands hurt in sympathy. They were so swollen and twisted that they made old arthritic hands look like an upgrade. But, at least his actual hands hadn't been broken and most of the fingers just needed to be straightened out and popped back into their joints.
"Shit, Nic... What happened?" Worick gently turned Nic's larger hands over in his own, careful not to bump his fingers.
Nicolas made a sound in his throat, like he did when he was about to speak but hadn't made enough sound and he was trying to make enough noise to feel his throat vibrate. It was how he could tell he was loud enough to be heard. Then a deep breath, "Ah's h'ngy. W'nt 'ood."
"You went to get food? Shit, I didn't even think about that," Worick felt angry in that moment, at himself, at people, at Nicolas.
He hadn't thought to make sure there was food in their pantry for Nic to eat through the day and he was the one always harping on the Twilight about just eating whenever he was hungry, not to wait for permission. He should have checked, should have made sure... Just like Nic should have stayed at home.
"We'll talk about that later. Did anyone see you come into the apartment building?" Worick let Nic's hands go, signing to make sure the question would be understood.
Nic shook his head slowly, "Ah's ca'ful."
"Good... Are you hurt anywhere else?" Worick asked, reaching out to lift the hem of Nic's shirt to check.
Nasty bruises peppered Nic's belly and scrapes in the distinct shape of boots gave Worick a picture of how they got there. How had they even managed to get that close to Nic? He'd been elevated up to B/4 just this year, he was fast enough to outrun normals. And he was damn well smart enough to avoid them right now.
Unless they had snuck up behind him. Nic wouldn't have heard them coming and if something else had his attention, he wouldn't have seen them until they were too close.
"Nah bo's brok'n." Nicolas reassured him, though he did gingerly lift his arms up as Worick gently pulled his shirt off.
"Shit, Nic..." It looked like they had gotten Nic on the ground somehow, kicked him and beaten him with whatever they had on hand at the time. It was a miracle he had gotten away and the realization of how close he had come to losing his friend frightened Worick. Despite all the things Nic had done wrong, he had done right whenever he could. They may have a love-hate relationship, but there was at least more of the love than the hate present. He chewed on his lower lip as he grunted out a," No broken bones my ass."
Just by the bruising around Nic's side, he could tell he had at least one broken rib. This was more than he could handle, but he wouldn't be able to take Nic back outside. Things were getting bad and even if they hid his tags, anyone looking would assume he was a Twilight or a sympathizer because he'd taken a beating, "I gotta call Theo. Maybe he can come by and fix you up."
Theo was a few years younger, but his mother was a damn good doctor and had taught her son the tricks of the trade and they were the only clinic which would treat Twilights. She would be swamped, but Theo might be able to sneak away for just a bit. The phone call was made before Nicolas could protest and thankfully, the clinic had slowed down a bit. Theo could be spared, though his mother couldn't be. It was better than nothing and that teenager knew more about fixing people up than Worick did.
The wait for Theo to arrive was spent with Worick putting stitches into the cut on Nicolas' forehead and busted lip, but he avoided the other boy's hands like the plague. Worick knew what would happen if Nic couldn't use his hands anymore, it wouldn't just be the sword he would lose. Sign Language had freed Nic from the dreadful, silent prison his deafness had left him in. Before he was twelve and met Worick, no one had given him any means to communicate. He had only been able to understand the mouth movements associated with commands because he feared the beating he would receive if he didn't. Back then, he hadn't been able to lip read very well. Just barely enough to open that doorway just a crack, just enough to give Worick a foothold. Now, it felt as if that door which had been flung wide open was threatening to slam shut again.
When Theo arrived, Worick just moved out of the way and watched. He was the only other person in their lives that knew sign language, had actually known it before meeting them. Apparently, his mother had felt it was necessary for him as a future Doctor to be prepared to accommodate any potential patient. And Worick was thankful to that beautiful woman for it. Visits to the clinic were one of the rare moments where Nic was expected to speak for himself, not let Worick speak for him.
First Theo checked Nic's abdomen, declaring that he did have a broken rib, but it wasn't floating and in no danger of puncturing any organs. The only thing they could do for that was have Nic be careful in how he moved, not lift anything heavy, and pray he didn't feel the need to sneeze until it healed up. Next came the hands, a sight which made even Theo with his nerves of steel grimace. The young doctor gently held Nic's hand straight out, then pointed with a free hand to Worick, "Look at Worick, don't look at what I'm doing."
Realization dawned on Worick and he forced himself to smile at Nic, signing that it would be ok. He wasn't sure it would be, Nic's fingers were all wrong. The tips of his fingers bent all the way back with the middle knuckles punched down, forcing the fingers to bend in an impossible zig zag pattern. Only his thumbs had remained unscathed and that was a small blessing. Even if his others fingers would be stiff after this, he would at least still be able to grip a sword.
Nicolas just stared at him, those dark brown eyes of his wide and uncertain. But, he trusted Worick to be right. Like the damned loyal dog that would trust its master even as the gun barrel was pointed at its head. It was a sickening comparison, but not an unrealistic one. They had made slow progress over six years. For every step forward, they took three back. But, eventually, they had started taking three forward and only one back. It was small little things, stuff that a normal human would take for granted. Sitting on furniture instead of the floor, eating food without asking permission, taking his medication on his own without needing it given to him, being able to communicate, even doing work for Monroe when Worick wasn't with him. Nic had made a lot of progress. Baby steps, but still those baby steps were moving forward.
There was a sickening crack and popping noise as Theo jerked one of Nic's fingers straight then pushed the bones back into joint. Nic was able to stay quiet at first, biting his lip and fighting back the tears that came with pain whether they were wanted or not. But, after the third finger was straightened, he cried out in pain on the fourth and looked down at his ruined fingers. The look of horrified panic in Nic's face was a warning and Worick jumped to get him back under control.
Theo moved away just as Worick stepped in, grabbing Nic by the chin and forcing him to look at him. Those brown eyes had narrowed, pupils pin pricks being swallowed by near black brown irises. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot and the blackened, puffy skin around them only made it an even more stark contrast. He wasn't high on Celebrer Uppers, but fear could cause the same manic state if left uncontrolled.
Gently, Worick began petting his friend's short black hair and wiped away the dried blood and snot from his upper lip, "I know it hurts, Nic. Let Theo straighten them out. It's our best bet of getting them working again. Just focus on me, okay?" He spoke quietly, almost not making a sound. But, Nic's bloodshot eyes snapped onto his lips as they moved, reading the slowly spoken words. He felt those shoulders loosen up, then begin to quiver. Nic let his head fall down on Worick's shoulder as he held out his other hand for Theo to take.
With every gut wrenching snap and pop of Nic's fingers, Worick felt his friend tense up and cry out into his shoulder where the fabric had grown wet from quiet tears of pain. Nic had always had such a high pain tolerance. Worick had seen him limp around on a fractured ankle before, shrugging it off as 'just a sprain'. But, then again fingers were a different story and they were all together and though a few were broken rather than dislocated, Theo couldn't pop the bones back into joint without moving the broken ones out of the way.
When it was finally over, Theo put a few splints on the broken fingers and taped up Nic's hands, leaving the swollen fingers that he had straightened out taped rather lightly even as they began to turn a nasty blackish blue, swollen more than twice their normal size. The final thing to do was to straighten out Nic's broken nose, something the Twilight handled much better than his fingers. With a pinch to the bridge of Nic's nose, Theo forced it back into place with a wet cracking sound that made Worick's stomach threaten to force its contents upward. Then, he simply placed a splint over it and gently taped it into place.
"You guys know the drill with everything. He probably won't be able to bend his fingers properly for a while, the broken ones need to stay in the splints. The tape can come off his hands in a few days, put some ice on them when you can to get the swelling to go down. None of the bones in his hands were broken, so it should be fine. Just make sure to bend and unbend the fingers I straightened every few hours starting tomorrow. It'll hurt and they will be stiff, but it's his best bet at them working right afterward," Theo said, packing up his bag with a serious expression before heading out the door.
Worick looked down at Nicolas as he sat on the couch, hands in his lap, just staring at the bruised, swollen fingers. His hands were shaking, quivering uncontrollably. He wasn't even sure if Nic had been paying attention to what Theo had said about his hands, the look on Nic's face was as close to worried as the Twilight ever got. Comforting Nic had never been something Worick had needed to do very often, the few times before had been more for his own benefit than his stoic friend's. But, this was genuine fear. If his fingers didn't work correctly after this, Nic might not be able to use a sword much less use Sign Language.
He waggled in fingers within Nic's line of sight, causing the dark haired young man to look up at him with blood shot eyes surrounded by blackened, swollen eyelids. Worick gave him the best, casual smile he could and signed, 'Still hungry?'
At first, Nicolas just blinked at him then the corner of his busted upper lip quirked slightly upward as he nodded an affirmative.
This was a ritual they both knew well. It was familiar and comforting for both of them at times like this, when one of them was all busted up. It was the only occasion that either of them ever cooked and they never touched the stash they needed for it otherwise. Worick filled up a cheap pot with water and set on the stove to boil, pulling out the bag of dried rice to cook. Normally, they would put some sort of meat in there, but it wasn't safe to go back out anymore so plain rice it was.
Once the pot was boiling and the rice was in, Worick covered the pot and returned to Nicolas to sit next to him on the couch. Nic wasn't staring at his hands anymore, instead just gingerly cradling them in his lap as he fought to keep his eyes open. The swelling under his busted forehead had gone down since Worick had stitched it up, the eye no longer swollen completely shut. The other was just a plain ol' fashioned black eye, probably from the broken nose rather than direct damage to the eye itself. His nose had started to swell up underneath the bandage and the packing Theo had stuffed up in there to keep him from oozing blood and snot everywhere forced Nic to breathe through his mouth.
"Just stay awake long enough to eat, okay?" Worick said, signing as he spoke.
Nic just grunted in response, but looked up at him with widened brown eyes. Times like this, when Nic wasn't high on Celebrer Uppers, Nicolas had a real pair of doe eyes. Dark brown, but not quite black, surrounded with short, jet black eyelashes. And Nic's Asian roots showed in his eyes as well as his coloring, though it was plain he wasn't full blooded. His eyes had just the right amount of slant to them. If Nic didn't spend so much time being busted up and looking fit to murder someone, he would be quite handsome. In a rugged, cold blooded killer kind of way.
Once the rice was finished, Worick spooned it evenly into two bowls and motioned for Nic to join him at their rickety table. That was their newest addition of furniture, it made them actually seem a little civilized as opposed to sitting in the floor and eating like the street urchins they had grown up to be. Nicolas eased himself into the chair, wincing a bit with his broken rib but not having much trouble otherwise.
Worick just stared pointedly into his bowl of bland rice and took a mouth full. It was probably an odd thing to have as a comfort food, but it was cheap and easy to chew when your mouth was all fucked up after falling onto someone's fist or boot. He was three mouth fulls in when he heard the sound of a spoon clattering onto the cheap table, which was probably better suited for playing cards than dining. He looked up and winced as he watched Nic struggling to pick up the damn utensil with his fucked up fingers. Worick hadn't even thought about it, just had put down the bowl and spoon out of reflex and not thought twice.
Somehow, Nicolas managed to pick it up, holding it like a small child whose hand was barely big enough to do so properly might. Half of the rice he spooned up was shaken off by the shaking in his hands and the spoon fell from his bruised and swollen hand before it could make it to his busted mouth. The look on Nic's face was one step up from defeat and just a bit more heart breaking than humiliation.
Before Nic could repeat the struggle, Worick reached out and picked up the spoon. Without a word, he just spooned up some rice and held it for Nic. After a small hesitation, Nic flushed a bit pink in the cheeks but leaned forward and took the bite of food without protest. His hands were still quivering where they lay on the table as he chewed the soft rice, but he let Worick feed him in silence, alternating between giving Nic a spoonful and eating some of his own rice while the other chewed. Once both of their bowls were empty, Nicolas muttered what sounded vaguely like an attempt at saying 'thank you'.
Worick just smiled and signed, 'Everything will be fine, Nicolas. Give it some time, your hands will be fine.'
It was a trick of his trade, to lie convincingly. Worick lied every day. He lied to the women who bought him, he lied to the people he worked with, lied to strangers for no reason, lied to himself. But, it was hard to lie to Nicolas, those dark brown eyes of his seemed to pierce right through him. But, he had a feeling that this was one Nic would want to believe. And besides, was it really lying or just hope? Theo had seemed hopeful and that boy wasn't exactly Mr. Sunshine.
Nic blinked once, then moved out of the chair to move past Worick. The shorter boy eased himself on to the couch, laying on the side without the broken rib and curling in on himself. He was asleep before Worick could even check, snoring lightly through his open mouth since his broken nose was all clogged up. It was a good thing, Nic didn't get enough sleep normally so when he was hurt was about the only time he actually caught up on what he missed.
Worick flipped on the radio that was already tuned in to the Ergastulum news. Sure enough, another riot had broken out not even a mile away from their home. Stores were being looted, Twilights dragged out from their homes or the brothels they belonged too and murdered. The Twilight Hunts, they were calling it. What a load of horse shit... This wasn't some grand hunt, it was nothing but mass hysteria gone violent. And the ones who were paying the price were the people who had no control over what they were.
Nicolas certainly hadn't chosen to be born a Twilight, already addicted to the Celebrer drugs while in the womb. It wasn't any different from Worick, really. He hadn't chosen to be born from a prostitute, to be the living evidence of his father's lustful weaknesses. He still didn't know the full story of Nicolas and those mercenaries, the Twilight never talked about it. All he had to go on was what he had seen and none of what his perfect memory kept him from forgetting was good or normal. It was dirty... It was violent... It was horrible. But, there was nothing anyone could do about the past.
Worick could only stomach the radio for half an hour before he flipped it off and looked back toward Nic. The nineteen year old was dead asleep on the couch, still as a statue and snoring lightly with his mouth open. He looked like shit, really. Face all busted up, covered in yellowing black and blue bruises that still swollen, and then his hands still made Worick wince to look at them. At least all the fingers were straight now. They needed to put ice on them, but there was no way Worick was going anywhere until the morning. It was just too dangerous, even if it was just to go get some damn ice. Maybe their next investment should be a refrigerator? It would certainly make keeping food in the apartment a lot easier. But, they really didn't have much money left over at the end of each month once they paid for Celebrer.
The next morning, Nic actually looked worse instead of better. All the bruises were a yellowing at the edges nastily and the blackened centers of them were swollen, his torso looked almost lumpy from swelling, and while swelling around his fingers had gone down they were still the wrong shade of blue. The first thing Worick had done was call in to get out of work for the day with Big Mama, claiming he had caught the wrong end of a stomach bug because there was nothing sexy about that. It would get him out of it for the day and if he hurried, he would be able to grab some ice and food before anyone that might recognize him in the streets would even be awake.
He made the food run short and sweet, just enough to feed Nic for a few days to keep him in the apartment. Cans of soup, instant noodles, stuff that didn't need to be kept cool and was easy to chew. The bag of ice was heavy in his other hand, but it was probably more necessary than the food. This early in the morning, there was nobody but shop keepers just opening up their stores. Everybody that might recognize him was anywhere but the streets, which was good. He was supposed to be sick after all.
He burst into the door of the apartment, not worrying about the noise. Sure enough, Nic was already awake and just sat there on the couch with a miserable expression on his face. If he felt half as bad as he looked, Worick couldn't blame him for the sour look, "I got food and ice."
Nic just nodded to show he understood, hands still cradled gingerly in his lap. For now, Worick just tossed the bag of cheap food on the table and the bag of ice in the sink. The best he could do for putting ice on Nic's sore spots would be to wrap the ice cubes in a thin rag and hope the holes didn't tear any bigger in the fabric. Once he had enough ice in the cloth, he folded it up and twisted the remaining fabric together and held it tight.
"Let me see your hands," He signed with a free hand as he spoke, sitting down next to Nic on the cheap old couch.
With a soft sigh, Nic held them out for Worick to inspect. The swelling had gone down a little bit, but the bruising wasn't any better. He had three broken fingers in total, the ring and pinky on his left hand and the index of his right. The two on the left were taped together with their splints, but Theo had not taped the broken one on the right to a neighboring finger for fear of dislocating it again. Instead, the fingers that had been dislocated had been lightly taped, just enough to support the weak points that had been dislocated. Carefully, Worick began to unwrap Nic's hand and fingers. If he moved anything wrong or hurt him, Nic certainly didn't show it.
"Try bending them," He said, nodding towards the now free hand.
Nic wiggled his fingers experimentally at first, then tried bending each one by itself save for the broken ones. It was obvious they were stiff and were too swollen to touch the tips to his palm, but they were moving just fine otherwise. The relief was visible on Nic's face, a small little smile tugging at the side of his mouth as he held up that hand and signed a simple, albeit distorted thanks to the splinted fingers, 'They work.'
"See, I told you it would be fine," Worick replied, smiling a bit as he began to remove the tape from the other hand as well. Just like the left hand, the fingers on the right hand were able to bend as they should considering the swelling they had going on. Nic motioned toward the makeshift ice pack and Worick moved to pressed it lightly against one of Nic's palms.
"H'rt," Nic's voice was barely loud enough to be heard.
"Does it hurt because I'm pressing too hard or because they are just sore?" Worick asked, needing to clarify.
"Jus' h'rt," Nicolas replied simply, voice too loud.
Worick nodded in acknowledgment, careful not to press the ice against the splinted fingers. It was still bothering him, the need to know the details. Curiosity killed the cat, after all. He had worried over it all night, wondering how anyone had been able to sneak up on Nic much less keep him down long enough to do that sort of damage. Nicolas was fast and had years of experience when it came to making a mad dash down Ergastulum's alley ways in order to lose someone that might be chasing him. They had certainly gotten enough practice with that as kids, stealing food and then running for it just to survive.
Moving the ice to Nic's other hand, Worick motioned with his free hand to get Nic's attention, "What exactly happened last night?"
At first, Nicolas just shrugged and looked away pointedly. Worick knew it wasn't really fair to ask a question requiring a lengthy answer right now. Nic didn't like speaking out loud and he couldn't exactly manage anything more than the simplest of signs with his hands. But, he just couldn't wait for a week or two before Nic could use his hands properly again. He needed to know what had happened. Or at least, he felt like he needed to know. Then Nic turned back towards him, looking at him with an expression that suggested Worick had just asked him to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, "Ah got det'acted."
"Distracted? By what?"
Nic made a frustrated sound in his throat, "Ah bey 'ood. Dey not unner'sand wot ah say"
Worick grimaced, already picturing what had happened easily enough. While he was used to Nic's speech, the average person wasn't. When they were younger, he had tried convincing Nic to speak out loud as he signed. It would help people understand he could not hear them, but would also mean he was practicing his speech more since he had become surprisingly talkative once he had mastered sign language. As quiet as Nicolas had been as a twelve year old, by the time he had become fluent in sign language he was one step below being a blabber mouth. He had sharp wit and dry humor and did not hold it back. But, if he needed to talk out loud, he lost all that confidence and would go silent instead.
"Let me guess, that man who sells the damn hotdogs you like so much and mumbles?" Worick asked, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. When Nicolas nodded, he just had to laugh a little bit. The two of them had been going to that stupid stand for several years now. It was cheap food, but it was something hot to fill their bellies. It tasted like shit, but Nic had never really had much a taste for fine dining. It was the only food he would actually ask for, otherwise he just didn't care what they ate.
The man who ran the stand was a nightmare for communication. He mumbled so badly, even Worick had trouble understanding him and it was hopeless for Nic to read his lips at all. He knew Nic had bought food there before on his own, but the man had always claimed to be unable to understand Nic's speech at all. So they usually would fumble back and forth for a few minutes before trying to find a pen for Nic to write down what he wanted on a napkin. And if they couldn't find a pen, then it would just be Nic sitting there trying to say the words as clearly as possible while the idiot just stared at him like he was speaking in a foreign language. It had always baffled Worick, how some people could understand Nic, needing him to repeat himself only here and there, while others just couldn't understand him at all.
Nicolas snorted through his broken nose, wincing a bit as if he hadn't thought about how doing so would hurt until after the fact. That confirmed it and Worick had grin at him just a bit, "Were you writing down what you wanted?"
Nicolas nodded, "Loth pep'l seak up."
"Lots of people?" Worick clarified, wincing a bit when Nic nodded and gestured to his busted up forehead and nose with a free hand.
"Ah fall dow'. Dey h'rt."
"They blindsided you real good there, pal. There have been whole groups of them just walking around looking for Twilights. That's why I didn't want you to leave the apartment."
Nic just shrugged nonchalantly while Worick began to chew on his lower lip in frustration. He wanted to fuss at Nic for disobeying, for putting himself in such a bad situation. But, then on the other hand, he knew doing so would set him back on being independent. Fussing at Nic now, for doing exactly what Worick had been coaching him to do for years now, would mean he would just revert to always asking permission for everything again. So, Worick swallowed the words he wanted to spout out in frustration and simply said, "I'm just glad you're alright."
"Ag'in?" Nic said, face scrunching up like it always did when he hadn't been able to read someone's lips.
"I said that I was glad you are alright. They could have killed you. I'm glad you got away before they hurt you worse than they did."
Worick wasn't at all surprised when Nic stuck out his tongue at him, a horrible and childish habit that Nic showed no signs of giving up any time soon. It was something he could do that didn't require sign language or speaking out loud to convey his feeling. And it didn't matter if it was Granny Joel selling them cigarettes or Daniel Monroe himself, Nic would stick out that tongue with a dead pan expression without a second thought. Worick chuckled a bit to himself, not rising to the bait and instead moving the ice pack off Nic's hand to check if the swelling had gone down.
Sure enough, they were almost back to normal size. The coloring looked nasty as hell, but the damage didn't seem at all permanent. He might as well enjoy the 'quiet' for a few weeks with Nic not being able to sign very well. Once those fingers were all healed up and moving properly, Nic would be right back to giving his two cents for everything Worick said or didn't say. Frankly, with as unfiltered as Nic was with his opinions and name calling, Worick was glad the average person couldn't understand Sign Language. They would both probably end up with busted faces a lot more often otherwise.
"Let me wrap your hands back up then we can figure out some breakfast," Worick smiled, carefully wrapping the tape back around Nic's hand and fingers as close to how Theo had done it as possible.
Then he gave Nicolas a shit eating grin, "I could run grab some of those hotdogs you like so much. Even if they do taste like ass."
This time when Nic stuck his tongue out, Worick just laughed a deep rumble from his chest. Just for today, they could be two kids without a care in the world. Locked away safe at home, no mobs to worry about. He couldn't think of a better way to spend the day.
For now I'm planning on this staying a one shot, but I will probably add more one shot stories as new chapters.
Reviews are much loves :)