Warning(s): References to violence, prostitution, and attempted rape/non-con.
I know this pairing is a little unorthodox but I've honestly been dying for some fic with Andy (from The Blind Banker). So I decided to write some! Rated M just to be safe! Read at your own volition!
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It was pretty late when John emerged from his shop after locking it up for the night and he was ready to go home until he saw a kid a few paces ahead. John stopped for a moment, studying the less-than-subtle form as he pocketed his keys. The boy was slightly hunched over with nothing but a stoop railing keeping him up on his shaken feet. It was pretty cold out tonight as well and it didn't look like the kid had a jacket with him.
John would be lying if he said the sight of the young man didn't make his heart twist a little. There were plenty of kids like this who hung around this neighborhood with no where else to go, but something was different about this one. The young man's body language seemed all wrong somehow and the way he clutched at his ribs didn't look too promising either.
Before John could help it, his instinct kicked in and he found himself walking briskly over to the young man who was on the verge of falling over. John didn't know what had come over him. It could've been his military training or it could've been his compulsion to heal those in need. All he knew is that this kid had obviously struck a nerve. John could hear his breath straining with each cough, catching the kid by the arm before he could slip.
When they both straightened up John caught sight of a black eye shadowing the young man's left eye. It looked rather fresh, in fact, like it happened not long ago and why not? Going by the physical state of this boy it looked as if he was beaten recently. He also had a busted top lip that had started to dry over with blood. The kid's pink tongue came out to probe the cut unconsciously, drawing John in further.
"Are you alright?" John asks softly, craning his head slightly to make eye contact. The kid seemed kind of out of it, but he didn't reek of alcohol and his pupils were normal so it wasn't drugs. "My name is John Watson. What's yours?"
"Andy," he squeaks out meekly, trying to hide the left side of his face away from John's prying eyes.
"You don't look too well, Andy," John observes wistfully, holding Andy gently by his arm for reassurance. "Listen, I live just down the street. If you want, I could take a look at you and maybe get ahold of someone for you. Would that be agreeable?"
"I'm not your problem, Mr. Watson," Andy almost sobs, containing the urge to moan out his obvious pain.
"But you're a human being," John points out and he swears he can see Andy's heart break as his eyes tear up a little. "And people help each other."
"If you insist," Andy concedes with approval, trying to straighten up to the best of his abilities even when it makes him ache.
John nods with acknowledgment before lightly tugging Andy by the arm to coax him along. They make it a few steps when Andy stumbles over his sore feet and he would've fallen flat on the ground if John hadn't caught him again. John captures him with both of his arms so that Andy is clinging to his chest with all of his remaining strength, hoping it's enough to keep him from collapsing.
"I got you," John reassures, whispering in Andy's ear.
John wraps an arm securely around Andy's frail waist, hugging him to the side of his body almost protectively as they try to walk again. They continue along the street at a slow pace mostly because John isn't precisely sure what's all wrong with Andy. For all he knew, Andy might have a broken ankle and cracked ribs, judging by the way he limped and held his ribcage. Not to mention the poorly suppressed whimpers of pain that drenched Andy's busted lip.
Andy takes his free arm, the one that isn't holding his torso, and slings it around John's shoulders timidly for ensured support. He can feel John's hand grip him a little tighter at the contact and it makes Andy feel more safe than he had before. Andy hadn't been afraid of John initially, but he had been wary about his friendliness. It was a pleasant surprise to see somehow willing to help him so selflessly.
Andy felt cold against him and the pale appendage around John's neck caused goosebumps to prickle along his body is an oddly delightful way. John had no idea what the hell he was doing right now. He was taking some strange boy back to his flat all because he assumed the kid was in dire need of help. There was the off chance that this kid was feigning injury for just such an opportunity, but it didn't add up to John. John knew his injuries. He prided himself with his knowledge of medicine.
After awhile they finally make it to the stoop of John's flat, conquering the stairs one step at a time. Andy holds onto John with both of his arms even if it hurts his body more this way. John practically carries Andy up the stairs, stopping only when he has to fish around in his pocket for his keys. John flushes mildly, feeling like a drunk nervously fumbling around for his keys with the intention of bedding a random stranger from the pub.
But that isn't what's going on. So why was John so nervous?
When they get inside John helps Andy to the small couch to set the young man down gently. Andy grunts when he's lowered but sighs with content as he settles into the cushions. It was the first time John was able to get a real good look at Andy since their encounter.
Andy had a mop of unruly curls that looked tousled and ruffled from wind. The tip of his nose was red and running, but not from the cold because his cheeks were wet with tears. Andy's cheeks were flushed to a rosey pink, definitely from the cold, and his black eye was much lighter than John previously thought. The shadows of night had played tricks on him.
"Just stay put. I'll go and get the first aid," John informs Andy, still using a soft tone to make the young man feel safe.
John walks off towards what Andy suspects is the bathroom, disappearing down the hall to leave the young man all alone. Andy looks around curiously, taking in this new environment he has found himself in as he tries to warm up his arms by rubbing them. The place seems rather empty, lacking any real decorations, but it looks pretty lived in. It feels rather cozy being in a place of median rather than being under or overwhelmed. Andy felt safe here, if only for the moment.
John emerges sometime later with a compact medical kit, but it doesn't look like the garden variety ones they keep on hand. It looks standard issue from the hospital itself and Andy has to wonder as to how John came into possession of it. John sits down next to Andy on the couch, unzipping the med kit to retrieve rubbing alcohol and cotton swabs before setting the kit down on the small coffee table.
"You got a pretty nasty cut beneath your eye. The right one," John points out loud.
Andy reaches up quickly to feel around for it. Andy hisses when he touches it and it starts to make sense why his tears had stung his face so much. Andy wasn't aware to the full extent of damage he'd received tonight. All he knew is that he felt sore all over and he just wanted to fall asleep forever. Andy lowered his hand into his lap when John brushed it aside to swab his cut. Andy hisses at the burning sensation.
"Sorry," John whispers.
He brings his other hand up to cup Andy's chin, holding it straight in case Andy decided to flinch away. John rubs the swab lightly across the junction of Andy's eye socket and cheekbone, being carefully not to irritate his eye or or press too hard. The swab is a damp pink by the time John is finished and he puts a band aid over the abrasion for good measure, smoothing his thumbs over it to make it stick.
"Let's have a look at you," John says as he turns Andy's head marginally to the right to inspect his black eye. John presses the the pad of his thumb just under Andy's bottom lid, testing his reaction time to the pain. "Seems like this black eye is nearly healed. When did you get this?"
Andy doesn't answer him but John expected as much. After all, it wasn't his business to pry. He wets another swab to clean the dried blood on Andy's top lip, wiping away the remains of disinfectant. John rummages through his kit to retrieve a small vile with a brush, swiping it across the cut once to create a clear liquid bandage for it.
"Take your shirt off," John requests, putting some things away, and Andy gives him a dubious look, looking timid and meek as ever. "I need to make sure your ribs aren't broken."
Andy nods once and tries to rid himself of his shirt but it takes a few attempts and even then it still won't come off all the way. Andy drops his arms and winces with a peep, swallowing his apparent agony. John sympathizes, frowning mildly at the state if this boy before offering to help. The shirt comes off to reveal Andy's otherwise pale chest illustrated with varying degrees of bruises.
Some are fresh and others are a little bit older, leading John to believe that this kid must come from an abusive home of sorts or he just has rotten luck. That didn't explain why he was outside John's shop though. John scooted a little closer to Andy and made eye contact with him as if silently asking permission to prod him. Andy gives a weak half smile as John proceeds to do his own examining, pressing in certain areas in order to hear certain sounds.
John's a bit out of practice but it's all second nature to him really. John runs his fingers along the contours of Andy's torso, feeling just how emaciated and cold the kid really is but finding no abnormalities in his bone structure. Despite the obvious, this kid is actually pretty lucky considering that his injuries aren't major.
"Well, you don't seem to have any broken ribs. Just some minor bruising," John tells Andy hopefully, but he hates himself after the fact for saying minor bruising.
"How do you know so much about this stuff?" Andy inquires quietly, speaking for the first time since their arrival.
"I used to be a doctor," John replies, staring a little longer at Andy's chest than he means to. He helps Andy with putting his shirt back on "Some of these bruises look old..."
"It's not what you think," Andy gushes, knowing what John was driving at. People are quick to assume he gets these bruises from his parents when in reality it's far more worse than that. "Some clients are alright and other times I'm not so lucky."
John watches Andy's face shift from shame to embarrassment as John pieces together what the young man has just said. John blushes profusely at the knowledge of Andy's admission, causing the kid to look away just as awkward. John isn't sure why he let that possibility slip his mind, after all this neighborhood is rather promiscuous.
"Tonight was one of times I wasn't so lucky," Andy shrugs like it's nothing because, honestly, he's used to it.
John doesn't say anything. He doesn't have the right words for just such an occasion. There was some strange boy in his home confessing to being a prostitute... What the hell was he supposed to say? John felt the only course of action was to ask outright.
"Do you mind telling me what happened to you?" John presses, just lightly enough to scratch the surface of Andy's composure. "I mean, if you're comfortable."
Andy hesitates for a moment, not because he's ashamed but mostly because John actually cared enough to listen to him. Andy's tongue swipes over the cut on his lip again. He figures there's no harm in telling John, he might not even see him ever again so what did he have to lose?
"I was just on my way home, you know? I ran into one of my regulars and I told him I wasn't seeing anyone else tonight, but he didn't believe me. When I told him no again, well..." Andy gets choked up for a moment, like his throat is trying to close up before he can get it all out. "He just went absolutely ballistic! He grabbed me and dragged me away. He said the most horrible things you could imagine..."
John's breathing got more shallow and his blood boiled at the image Andy was painting for him. Having just met this kid, John couldn't stand the thought of anyone hurting this young man. He may not be innocent anymore, but that doesn't condone or condemn someone to lay a hand on him in such a way. It made John's heart ache.
"When I didn't do what he said, he hit me. I thought it would never stop, until he tried to do things to me. But I didn't let him. I just ran the first chance I got and I didn't stop. I must've fell down three times before I made it to the stoop you found me at," Andy finishes with almost a sigh of relief. He feels like he can finally breathe easier now.
"Andy, you really need to report this. You can't just let that happen and not do anything," John urges, wanting nothing than to go out and hunt down this pathetic excuse for a human being.
"You don't understand. Reporting him would get me into just as much trouble," Andy says, shaking his head and hating the excuse even as it tumbles out. "I know it's an obtuse way to look at it, but that's how it is. It doesn't matter, though."
"Doesn't it?" John asks dubiously, getting flustered when Andy looks over at him and moves closer.
"No," Andy confirms, wrapping his arms around John's neck. He winces and whimpers into John's ear but he holds on even through his discomfort. "Because I have you to thank."
John wraps his arms cautiously around Andy as not to hurt him, running his hands up and down his back in a soothing motion. This is not what John had planned to do tonight or any other night for that matter. If someone had walked in on them right now the scene would look all sorts of wrong, but John knew that their intentions were pure and that's all that mattered.
Andy somehow felt right in his arms in this moment as John brought one hand up to cup the base of Andy's skull, cradling it delicately and threading his fingers through the short mussed curls. John almost forgot what this had felt like, holding someone and making them feel secure, and it felt wonderful. John missed making people feel safe and he could only thank Andy for letting him help the young man tonight.
They linger for far too long by anyone's standards, feeling content enough to hold on further without so much as a second thought. John squeezes Andy's curls a little too firmly, prompting the older man to finally part away from him bashfully. The overwhelming impulse to hold Andy more intimately had briefly blinded John, making him feel a wave of guilt wash through his body.
"I was wondering, if it isn't too forward of me to ask, if you'd like to stay the night?" John inquires nervously, heart racing as the suspense builds up inside him.
Andy's whole posture changes just then, though subtly, and the way he reaches over to grab John's belt startled the older man that he nearly jumped out of his seat. Andy recoils quickly, thinking that John might be upset or offended and worried that John's charming nature was all a ploy. But that isn't the case.
"What are you doing?" John asks skeptically, coloring up at the suggestion of something else entirely.
"I thought you said you wanted me to stay the night with you?" Andy gushes timidly, curling in on himself.
"I meant for sleeping," John clarifies as all color drains from his face. "I'm more than flattered by the sentiment, but I wasn't asking for... that."
"Oh..." Andy breathes out shyly, feeling perhaps a little foolish for his initial reaction to John's request. "I'm not sure..."
"Look, you're in no condition to be out and walking about especially at this time of night. Not to mention you'll catch your death of cold before you could even hail a cab," John denounces swiftly, hoping to change the young man's mind. "I'd advise you to rest and get your strength back. Doctor's orders."
Andy looks at him for a long interval of time, weighing his options as well as the pros and cons of staying here with John for the night. John seems trustworthy enough and the way he reacted when Andy practically jumped on him was promising, but Andy didn't want to impose and he certainly didn't go around asking for charity. But John had said he was a doctor and Andy wanted to trust his words.
"Okay... Just for tonight," Andy concedes with a nod, seeing John smile a little from the side.
"Good. I'll fetch you a duvet and a pillow," John declares, patting Andy on the knee as he stands up and disappears down the hallway once again. John calls out to Andy from the other room, "I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch. I know it isn't awfully comfortable..."
"It's fine," Andy replies back with giddiness. He doesn't know why he's so nervous, possibly because this is the first time a guy has said stay the night and meant just that. "It's more than enough accommodation I'll need, honestly."
John comes back with an armful of covers and pillows, more than Andy will ever use, but the kid finds it oddly charming. He can't understand how someone could be this nice to a stranger, especially to a person like Andy. It feels too good to be true even when it's right in front of his face. Andy's stomach twists at the sincerity of John who only has the purest of intentions for him.
Andy watches John walk around the table to fix up the pillows and blankets for him comfortably enough for Andy to lay down. Andy bent down to take off his shoes, causing a dull ache to arise along his ribcage. The bruises over his torso still hurt like hell but it was bearable. The knowledge of John looking out for him was enough to soothe the young man's troubled mind.
John helped Andy to lie down against the cushions, taking his time to make sure Andy was situated properly. Andy sighed with relief as soon as his body settled into unbelievably soft cushions. The duvet was pulled up over Andy, covering his body from the neck down snuggly. Andy's eyes began to flutter slightly as the warmth of sleep threatened to take over. His body was tired, sore, and cold. All Andy wanted now was to sleep indefinitely.
"John?" Andy calls out softly when he thinks the older man is about to walk away.
"Yes?" John rushes back to his side just in case something is wrong with Andy. "What is it?"
"Would it be okay if I asked you to kiss me?" Andy requests confidently, making eye contact with John
"Would it be okay if I did?" John asks just as serious, searching Andy's face for any doubts.
Andy doesn't reply, but simply nods twice. John kneels down beside the couch where Andy's head rests on the arm of it, contemplating whether or not he should indulge Andy's polite request. It's not that he doesn't want to, because he really does, John just doesn't want to feel like he's taking advantage of Andy. But even as this crosses his mind, it's gone out the window just as fast as it came.
John leans down and presses his lips tenderly against Andy's, being mindful of Andy's busted lip and containing more primal beasts within himself. Andy sighs into the contact, melting and finally finding peace under John's compassionate selflessness. Andy feels safe and loved for the first time in a long time and that's saying a lot. They part after a moment with their lips still tingling from the contact. Andy has never been so ballsy as to kiss one of his clients, but then again John wasn't a client. John was his savior. John was his hero.
"Goodnight," John whispers ardently, smiling at Andy one last time before shutting off the lights and retreating to his own room with promises of sweet dreams in the form of pale skin and unruly curls.
John would be hurt to find no sign of Andy in the morning, but the impression the young man left on him was ultimately inescapable.