Set in Shangri-La.
Warning - contains strong language, slash/sexual stuffs, man/man relations.
This was written as a present for one of my friends, but I 'm quite happy with how it turned out so I thought I'd post it here.
The humidity was stifling. A drastic change from the previous environments that the four men had inhabited. They had gone from a swamp to a factory, from there they had gone to an abandoned theatre, and then to the abandoned soviet base. Each and every one was infested with the undead.
However, where they were now was a major change. Seemingly idyllic at first, the jungle temple had all the merits of a tropical getaway. That is, until you take heed of the traps, puzzles and rotting re-animated corpses that try to kill you. And flaming re-animated corpses that try to kill you.
Dr Richtofen sat on a damp rock near the waterfall, letting the spray from it cool his heated skin. He had shed his jacket, and loosened his tie to allow some air to reach his chest. As he went over his thoughts, his mind wondered back to the freezing cold room the men had been trapped in not so long ago. Who would have thought they would encounter other people in Siberia? And four other people at that?
That room had been so cold, it rattled his very bones. The amount of times he thought of cutting up one of the others to use their skin as a coat…
He could almost see it now, Nikolai stumbling around as Takeo kept heaving in the corner. He chuckled to himself as he remembered.
The smile faded and became a grimace when he remembered something else.
One of the people who had assisted them in their bid to escape the room was female. And the look on Dempsey's face when he heard her voice caused anger to rise within the German. In fact, Richtofen was sure that he heard some suspicious yet interesting sounds coming from the corner where the American was sat. It was so dark that he couldn't make out what Dempsey was doing, but his perverted mind put the pieces together for him.
Then it hit him like a slap to the face.
It wasn't anger he'd been experiencing. It was something that under the correct circumstances could be infinitely more dangerous.
Jealousy.
He had been envious of the girl?
"Never!" he said to himself, huffing.
"Talking to yourself again psycho?"
Edward looked up to find the very man he was thinking of looming over him.
"Go avay Dempshey" he muttered.
But said man merely sat himself down beside the Nazi, placing his battered weapon to one side. Richtofen watched from the corner of his eye as the American shed his blood-stained shirt and tossed it to one side.
"It is too fucking hot here!" he moaned, falling backwards.
Repressing the urge to look at Tank, Richtofen sighed.
"Vat do you vant Dempshey?" he asked half-heartedly.
The sweating American sat up and shifted closer to the German. He leaned in.
"Do I have to want something to just sit here with you?" he asked.
"Zhere is alvays un ulterior motive vith you" Richtofen snapped.
Dempsey just laughed. "That's rich coming from you!" he doubled over giggling.
The Nazi growled his frustration and turned his back on the marine, crossing his arms. He winced as he felt a sharp stab of pain from his shoulder.
Suddenly Dempsey stopped laughing and his voice became serious. "Doc are you all right?"
"Yes Dempshey I am fine" he hissed, grasping at his shoulder.
Tank had good reason to be concerned. He now noticed an ominous patch of crimson on the Nazi's crinkled shirt, and watched as the man rubbed at his shoulder with one gloved hand.
Richtofen was inwardly chastising himself for being distracted earlier that day. The voices had been a constant buzz in the back of his mind, and today they had been as incessant as ever. Shouting and screaming at him for death, the endless slaughtering of his children did nothing to silence them. He had been clutching at either side of his head when he felt the sting on his shoulder, and he thought with horror that one of the untoten had finally gotten their hands him.
But no, that idiot American had grazed him with a bullet from his HK21.
The lightest of touches on his shoulder thrust the doctor back into the present, and without even thinking he grabbed his pistol and turned, pressing it to the base of Tank's jaw.
Dempsey froze, but didn't move his hand.
"Hey…I just want to check it…"
"It vas you who did zis to me!" Richtofen spat, rage etched across his face.
The voices had dimmed to a small whisper;
'Kill him!'
'Tear out his pathetic heart!'
His chest heaving with his frantic breaths, it took all of Edward's will power to stop his finger from moving the necessary fraction to end the other man's life.
"It was an accident!" Dempsey urged.
'Liar!'
Richtofen closed his eyes, and lowered the gun. The voices were venomous and screeched at him. Part of him wanted to place the gun against his temple and…
"Will you at least let me look at it?" the marine asked gently, catching the Nazi by surprise with his sudden kindness.
The doctor couldn't help feeling a little bit…joyful that the American had offered to help him.
Well, it was his fault.
To keep up his façade, Richtofen huffed in mock annoyance but turned to let Dempsey tend to his wound.
"Wasn't so hard was it?" Tank said, a smirk on his face knowing that Edward wouldn't see.
The marine shifted onto his knees behind the seated Nazi, and slowly pulled at the collar of his shirt. Richtofen attempted to distract himself by looking at the sky. The moon was full, and its light cast an eerie glow on their surroundings. The dense jungle around them had been drained of colour under its rays. There were stars visible in the inky black sky, but Edward didn't recognise any of the constellations. He began memorizing them, making a mental note to sketch them in his notebook at some point.
The silver tones that streaked through the Nazi's midnight hair shone brightly under the moonlight. Dempsey saw that it was greyer there than he had originally thought, which begged the question; how old was the crazy bastard?
Returning his attention to the matter at hand, he pulled the fabric of the doctor's shirt further to reveal a nasty scrape across his pale skin. The blood had dried around the wound, but there was still some oozing slowly from the centre of the gash. Dempsey realised he needed something to stop the bleeding, and he looked around to find Richtofen's small pouch which he usually kept for stitching up the other men. Rummaging around in its contents, Tank found a needle and some thread, and some gauze.
Then he noticed something that might make the situation a little awkward…
"Erm Doc? You're gonna need to take off your shirt for me to get a good look at the wound…" he mumbled awkwardly.
Despite having his back turned to him, Dempsey could see the change in Richtofen's demeanour. But he could not read his reaction.
Hesitantly, the doctor began removing his shirt, undoing one button at a time. He hissed suddenly when his shoulder jerked with the pain of the movement.
He loathed seeming this weak in front of the marine, but he could not stitch the wound himself so he would just grin and bear it.
What seemed like hours later to Tank, the doctor slipped his shirt from his shoulders, revealing his pale but muscular frame. The American swallowed and fought back the bizarre feeling of…need? He didn't know what it was, but he concentrated hard on what he needed to do. He found this immensely difficult as his eyes kept straying to the muscles of Edward's shoulders, which flexed with every breath the compliant Nazi took.
"Are you going to stitch ze vound or cover it?" the thick German accent broke into his trance.
"Uh…which do you think is best?" Dempsey asked
"It's probably best to stitch it, so it von't catch on my clothes und it vill heal quicker" there was something in Richtofen's voice...
The Nazi's eyes closed when he felt the marine's large hands trail lightly across his skin. Oddly, Tank's fingers felt cold, but with the humidity that surrounded them Richtofen was not about to complain. In fact he let slip a small moan at the sensation.
He felt the American's hand stop in its tracks, and he could hear the other man's breathing quicken. Unsure of what to do, Edward sat still and waited for Tank to say something.
He didn't.
Instead the doctor found himself pressed into the damp grass, with Dempsey's face inches from his own…
Part 1 of this two part mini-fic
Enjoy! Read, Review :)