Safe 2
Clark Kent woke up disoriented at first. But, then as quick as he was trained his senses came back to him. He looked back down at the body pressed to his side. The brunette then wondered what it was that woke him up. He glanced around the room and saw the door jimmied open.
Instantly on alert, he laid the blonde down on the couch and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed his gun from the cabinet on top of the microwave. Pulling off the safety, he walked back into the living room and didn't see anything. Moving swiftly into the bathroom, everything was still in order, he double checked everything. Then, he heard it, a thud and a shout from the living room. Running back in, he went into action quickly.
Oliver was on the ground trying to fight off a big guy from on top of him. The blonde had what looked to be a stab wound on the side of his stomach. He immediately spoke, "FBI, FREEZE" He said and the person turned a bloodied knife towards him. He recognized him to be one of the hired hands for Mitchells, the guy who had been attacking Oliver in the alley. The man pulled out a gun and shot at him,
Clark immediately dove for cover behind the breakfast bar. He looked around the edge and took a shot at the man. He nicked the man and he tried to get him, but at the sight of Oliver bloody on the ground, he froze and was a second late as the hired hand limped out of there. Clark put safety back on his gun and stored it quickly back in the cabinet.
Hurrying back to Oliver, he grabbed a towel and placed it on the wound. Oliver groaned and tried to curl up away from the pressure. Clark placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry, I know it hurts. But, I have to keep pressure on it." He said slowly and apologetically. "Okay, I'm going to put you on the couch and look at the wound now, okay ?" At Ollie's nod he slid a hand under his knees and one across his back and lifted him gently onto the couch.
His hands lifted up Oliver's shirt high enough to get a good, full view of the wound. He winced and drew in a breath, it looked bad, but not to the point where they had to go to a hospital.
Oliver looked down at Clark, "How bad s'it ?" He asked, biting his lip. It definitely hurt like a bitch, but he wasn't able to get a good look at it. "What the hell was that ?" He asked, still shocked. First he was asleep on the couch and then, next thing he knew, he was jolted awake by a noise and then thrown to the floor. A white hot pain erupted in his side and then he heard two gunshots. He was met with a pair of cool green eyes that spoke of experience and hardened emotion.
"It looks bad, but we can take care of it here. It's definitely going to hurt like hell though. I'll be right back." He walked into the kitchen and grabbed gauze pads, medical tape, Neosporin. Then on second thought he grabbed the Whiskey out of the fridge.
Walking back into the living room, he saw the little cat perched back on his shoulder. It was curling around the back of his neck and mewling. Clark sat back down on the couch and handed the bottle of Whiskey to his charge. He sat the gauze and tape down and opened the Neosporin. He looked up and Oliver raised an eyebrow at him.
"You trying to get me drunk, Officer ?" Oliver teased with a smirk. He twirled the cap open took a long drink. "Cause I gotta warn I can hold my alcohol with the best of them." He winced as Clark examined the wound.
"Sorry." He smiled apologetically at Oliver. "This is going to hurt." He realized he would have to stitch up the wound and felt his heart squeeze. He did not want to be causing Oliver this much pain. He quickly walked back into the kitchen and searched around. He found a needle and some thread and frowned.
He sat back down on the couch and Oliver smiled tipsily at him. "We're going to have to stitch this up," He watched Ollie groan and then nod. "Okay, do what you have to do." He took a long swig, "Just let me get prepared." He took a long gulp of the whiskey and coughed. Another long swig and Clark was hoping this would be worth it.
When half the bottle was gone he grabbed it away. "I think that'll be enough." He sat it down on the coffee table. Oliver frowned at him and tried to reach out for it. He fell forward and Clark grabbed him, careful of his wound. "Yeah, you've definitely had enough." Clark smiled and gently sat him back on the couch.
"But, I don't think I've had enough and since I'm the drinking I think that I haven't had enough." He slurred and his head rested against the couch. His cat came up to snuggle in the crook of his neck. "Hey, Bandit." Oliver slurred as he looked at Clark, smiling drunkenly. Clark threaded the needle and glanced up at Oliver, who was apparently having a conversation with Bandit.
Carefully, he slid the needle into the gash and threaded it up. He looked up to see Ollie practically asleep and he couldn't help the warm feeling blooming in his chest. Reaching over he shook Oliver gently. "Come on, Oliver. I'm finished, lets get you into bed." Clark said with a smile.
Oliver made a noise of disagreement and turned to bury his head in the couch cushion. Clark chuckled and then watched as the moonlight from the window reflected against Ollie's dozing face. "Okay, fine. C'mere." Oliver stared, weirdly at him. "Come on. You can't sleep on the couch and you won't get yourself to bed." Clark reasoned as Oliver smiled. The brunette slid one hand under Ollie's knees and another slid around his back.
Oliver's arms slipped around his neck and the blonde's head fell against his shoulder. Clark walked slowly to the bedroom and laid Oliver down. He tucked him in and walked back to the door. Lingering in the door way he watched his sleeping charge with a wistful smile. "Sweet dreams, Oliver Queen."
