Red Hands
"Oh baby harder, oh god yes.. just like that!" The overrated porn star on the black and white T.V cried.
But no matter how hard Adam tried he just couldn't enjoy the over zealous moaning and floppy appendages on screen. He was beyond distracted - his traitorous mind always wandering back to him. Wondering what he had ordered for dinner, what his plans were for next Thursday, what it felt like for him when he watched late night television.
And it was there in front of a pirated copy of an Avengers porno, with his pants haphazardly undone and a neglected cigarette dangling from his chapped lips that Adam Faulkner wondered if this was what it felt like to realize you loved somebody.
It was a hard realization to swallow, but Adam couldn't say he was horribly surprised either. Ever since the bathroom (as he liked to call it) every damn single thing in Adam's muddled up life led shamelessly back to him.
"Doctor Lawrence Gordon."
"Kid?" Lawrence asked, his voice raspy with sleep as he poked his head above the chain link on his apartment door.
Adam bristled at the stupid nickname, as if it wasn't hard enough being inferior to the doctor in almost every way he had to continually remind him of their age difference. "Are you going to let me in or what?" Adam grunted scrutinizing the doctors choice of flannel pajama shirt and sweatpants, very unlike his usual scrubs.
The door suddenly slammed in Adams face followed by sounds of a deadbolt and chain unlocking, "Depends, any particular reason you're bothering me at three in the morning?"
"I-" The remainder of the sentence got caught in Adam's throat as he thought over the consequences of what he wanted to spit out. I walked half a block through Manhattan with my pants undone only to end up on your doorstep. I couldn't shake the notion that I had to see you tonight. I believe their is a fair chance that I like you and hope you reciprocate these far fetched feelings even though I'm a no good loser.
"Just let me in you prick," Was what he finally said.
With an exaggerated yawn Lawrence threw the door open, extending his arms in a sign of defeat. Adam trailed in after the older man, but instead of making himself at home like he usually did he stood awkwardly in the front entrance. Shifting his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet Adam began whistling comically.
The apartment was the cliché of what a modern wealthy persons living space would look like. Hardwood floor, stainless steel appliances, the familiar scent of leftover Chinese takeout wafted throughout the small room which was brightly lit and well decorated.
"As much as I treasure your company," Lawrence started, squinting his eyes at the odd behavior, "mind explaining what was so important that you couldn't wait for a more reasonable time of day?"
A number of important things came to Adams mind but none of them seemed appropriate. I'm totally dependent on you. No. I'm hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you. Hell no. I'm glad that it was you I was shackled half-dead with in an abandoned bathroom. Jesus Christ no.
"Look I need to ask you something."
"Shoot."
A shaky inhale, two blinks, and a rushed breath later Adam simply deadpanned, "What are we doing?"
Those four words spoken out loud were a tad anticlimactic for the Doctor who was expecting an epiphany at the very least. "Excuse me?" Lawrence huffed, crossing his arms across his chest in mild annoyance.
"I asked what exactly are we doing here?"
"Oh no," Lawrence huffed, "I got that much. Lets see, as of now we are staring at each other at three am on a Sunday morning, which may I remind you, is one of my only days off work. Furthermore I am wondering if your post-traumatic stress has final-"
"No!" Adam exasperated taking a step forward, "I meant how do you feel about me?" His voice faltered, and his gaze desperately fell upon the other man's awe-stricken face, "About us?"
A pregnant pause filled the room as the two men stared each other down in silence. Adam gulped, Lawrence pursed his lips, and somewhere a clock ticked within the apartment making the passing of time painfully obvious.
"What? You're not even going to answer the question? You owe me at least that much Larry!"
"I don't owe you anything Adam Stanheight-Faulkner."
In retrospect he certainly did not. Doctor Gordon had saved Adams apathetic (but mostly pathetic) life during their mishap with Jigsaw and it had cost him his relationship with his wife, his custody over his daughter and his reputation as a surgeon. The only thing Adam had to deal with was a spider like bullet wound in his left shoulder and some severe trauma therapy. Which again didn't weigh up to Lawrence's prosthetic right foot and equally drab therapy.
"You know that's not what I meant.." Adam trailed off, clenching his fists at his sides.
"Look I think you should go," The doctor stressed each word, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I-I need some time to think."
Rejection didn't handle Adam Faulkner very well, or maybe it was the other way around. Regardless seemingly without his immediate consent, the fist he had balled up at his side was flying through the air - destination Lawrence's face.
"Opps," Adam had the nerve to say; but only after his hand had connected to the doctor's face with a sickening crack.
Rearing back a few steps in shock Lawrence gingerly brought a hand up to his face, his fingers feeling something wet against his upper lip. "I think you broke my nose," He exclaimed as blood gushed from his nostrils as if to prove his point.
The younger man blinked hard at the sight of the blood which continued to spill from the doctors nose, down his face, only to drip off his hard jaw.
Adam tried to recall the last time he had seen this much blood. Was it when Lawrence had shot him or had it been when Zepp had beaten John Kramer to death with a toilet seat cover? No, it was when detective Tapp had dragged himself into the bathroom, clutching at his bullet riddled chest whilst murmuring hysterically, "You boys are safe now, I've called for backup and help is on the way." There had been a sea of blood as Tapp collapsed in the puddle of dark blood that Jigsaw and Zepp had already left. The detective's last words had also bubbled blood down his chin, "You boys are going to be alright, ya hear me?"
Adam furiously shook his head trying to shake the panic attack that threatened to seize him. But before he could start hyperventilating like he usually did during one of his episodes the doctor was charging towards him, a growl growing in the back of his throat.
"What the fuck," Adam cursed flash-stepping backwards to avoid colliding with the angry doctor. But the younger man had never been too graceful on two feet and the evasive maneuver sent him stumbling backwards onto the hard linoleum tiles of the open kitchen. He hit the ground hard, swearing, as he tasted coppery blood inside his cheeks. Somehow he had managed to bite his own lip as he fell, splitting the skin in a jagged line through the top and bottom corner on one side of his mouth.
With wide eyes Adam looked up from his spot on the floor at the sight unraveling in front of him. Directly hovering above him Lawrence was suddenly shirtless, using his pajama shirt to sop up the blood still gushing from his nose. As if in a trance Adam watched a stray bead of blood trail down across Lawrence's protruding adam's apple, past his collar bone until it trickled to a stop atop his chest. The doctor was clearly unaware that the situation (whether it be his nakedness or the hemoglobin) was having such an adverse effect on the kid.
Lawrence's glare softened considerably now that Adam was sprawled out with blood dripping from his newly busted lip. "I'm sorry," the doctor sighed, throwing his ruined shirt into the kitchen sink and offering Adam a blood stained hand.
The younger man stared curiously at the blood-speckled hand, torn between the startling fear and, dare he say, excitementthe sight gave him. This seemed like a sick, cruel punishment - a blood kink, of all things! Especially after the torture and bloodshed he had recently experienced. Mortified Adam gripped the others hand, and allowed himself to be hoisted up.
"Are you okay?" Gordon inquired genuinely concerned.
What happened next was a blur of motion in which Adam lurched boldly forward, crushing his lips against the doctors in a clumsy frenzy. At first Lawrence resisted, his hands pushing against Adams shoulders in a half-hearted attempt to break the kiss. With only a moments hesitation Lawrence gave up, reciprocating the action timidly.
Just the feeling of the doctor opening his mouth to him made Adam shudder and his hands flew to the either sides of the older man's face feeling stubble underneath his fingertips. The kiss quickly deepened and Adam relished in the bitter taste of blood on his tongue. The pair parted breathlessly, a string of pink saliva still sloppily connecting their mouths.
"What the hell are we doing?" Lawrence breathed, giving up any facade that he didn't love Adam to the point where it was irrational.
"I asked you first."
Lawrence thought for a moment, trying to find the perfect words to say something truly romantic. And so tracing his fingers across Adams lower lip he lovingly whispered, "That's going to leave a scar."