A few minutes later, Nathan heard the water start running. Meanwhile, Nathan got to looking around Duke's room for the first aid kit. He made a point to keep his eyes away from any markers of Duke's deviant activities, and instead swept the room until finally he found the massive white tackle box with a big "x" taped on the top. He'd have to remember to tell Duke that it was supposed to be a cross, not an "x".
Taking a seat on the uncharacteristically neat bed – it was made and everything – Nathan flipped open the box and started going through the supplies. He'd need butterfly bandages for Duke's face, some antiseptic cream, some alcohol wipes, and probably some elastic bandages in case his ribs were really hurt. Luckily for him, he found everything he needed, though he had to admit it worried him a little bit that Duke had even considered needing some of this stuff. And he wasn't going to think about how he got his hands on some of it.
He'd only just finished fingering through a supply of morphine bottles and a few other heavy medications he couldn't pronounce when he heard something from the bathroom that caught his attention. At first, it sounded like feet slipping on wet tile, but then there was a loud thud that had him up and running to the bathroom in an instant.
"Duke?" he called, his hand poised and waiting on the door handle. If Duke could convince him that he was all right, then he'd stay outside. He'd seen Duke naked before – albeit, it had been a couple years, and only because he'd caught him off-guard on his boat – and though it wasn't an experience he would mind repeating, something told him now wasn't the time.
However, after a few long moments with no reply, he decided timing wasn't everything. "I'm coming in," he warned, and with a shove of his shoulder, the door gave way. He hurried into the steam-filled bathroom, and threw the curtain open.
The sight that greeted him made his stomach drop. Duke was curled up in the corner of the bottom of his shower, doubled over with his arms around his stomach. His face was twisted in a mask of pain, and he'd gone pale.
Turning the water off, Nathan knelt down in front of him. "Duke, what happened?" he asked, reaching for one of his shoulders. Without any clothes to hide his injuries, Nathan could see the bruises that covered his whole side. It didn't help that he could count every one of his ribs, and it looked like not just one of them, but a couple were oddly shaped. Nathan just hoped it was swelling.
"I fell," Duke hissed through clenched teeth. Nathan imagined if he hadn't been in so much pain, he probably would've been embarrassed at the admission.
Nathan winced sympathetically. "All right, c'mon, let's get you up," he said. It was a testament to just how bad Duke was feeling that he didn't even quirk a suggestive eyebrow. Frowning, Nathan reached over and snatched the towel hanging on the rack, wrapping it around Duke's shoulders. As gently as he could, he helped his sort-of-friend up off the rapidly chilling tile. It was a good thing Duke wasn't heavy; Nathan practically had to carry him back to his bed.
For the sake of Duke's dignity, he made a second trip for his briefs and his shorts, and turned while he pulled them on. The shirt would wait until after Nathan had seen to those ribs.
When Nathan turned around, Duke was still sitting on the bed, only he was better-clothed and a little bit drier. The towel hung around his slumped shoulders, and though his hair still dripped into his face, most of him was dry. Still, just to be sure, Nathan walked over and took the towel from his shoulders and started to dry his hair. He was careful to avoid the egg on his temple, but Duke still hissed like he was being beaten again.
"I can dry my own hair," he grumbled, but he didn't make any move to take the towel. The truth was – and if anyone told Nathan this, he would deny it – he was enjoying the attention. Most of the time, the side of Nathan he got was cold and sarcastic; seeing this gentler side of him almost made getting beaten to a bloody pulp worth it.
When Nathan was satisfied that Duke's hair was sufficiently dry, he let the towel fall down to the bed. "Arms up," he instructed, tapping the underside of one of Duke's elbows. For once, Duke did as he was told, though not without a token eye roll, lifting his arms up at ninety-degree angles to his abused sides. Nathan didn't miss the wince at the action, and made a mental note to work fast to limit any additional discomfort. Judging by the looks of that goose egg hugging the bony part of his temple, just above his jaw, Nathan got the feeling he didn't need any more discomfort. Never mind his bruised ribs.
Grabbing a ladder-back chair from the corner, Nathan dragged it over and took a seat in front of Duke. Wordlessly, though not without a sympathetic glance, he reached his hand to the worst of Duke's two sides. He'd made it down to the last three ribs, pressing and checking for any breaks or dents, when Duke suddenly jerked back. It was too late, though; Nathan had already felt the crack.
"Stop, man, it—" Duke seemed to catch himself, and clenching his jaw, he averted his eyes.
"It what?" Nathan asked. Since he had to finish checking the other two ribs, and Duke seemed intent on not letting him do that, he braced his other hand against the opposite side of his chest. It was only bruised, not misshapen, and he didn't think the contact would hurt him.
For some reason, though, Duke's breath hitched, and when he let it out in a sigh, his shoulders slumped miserably. "It hurts," he muttered, so low Nathan almost couldn't hear it. "It hurts a lot."
There was something in the way he said those words, something so sad and miserable and all around defeated, that made Nathan's heart sink. It wasn't like Duke to admit a weakness, which had to mean he really was in pain. And, Nathan hoped, maybe that he was starting to open up.
"I'm sorry," Nathan said.
Duke actually looked surprised. "What, no 'buck up, Crocker, they're just some little bruises'?"
Nathan grabbed some athletic wraps from the tackle box, and started binding Duke's ribs as he spoke. "Except they're not," he said, leaning in closer to get a better look at what he was doing. "They're a fair bit worse than little bruises." The ribs weren't broken from what he could tell, just cracked, so a doctor wouldn't be able to help him. It had to hurt like a bitch, though. He'd had plenty of practice with these before, and he expertly started the wrap above his ribs. "Exhale, deep as you can."
Duke looked at him confusedly for a moment. "Why?"
"Helps me get the bandages tighter. Once we've got you wrapped up, it should be easier for you to breathe."
That sounded nice, being able to breathe, so Duke let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, only to grimace as Nathan pulled the bandages tight around his ribs. One time around, then two, three, and finally the fourth before he pinned the bandages in place.
"Done now?" Duke asked.
Nathan put a reassuring hand on Duke's shoulder, careful not to put too much pressure on it. It was bruised and swollen, like his ribs, and the way he'd been holding it to his chest didn't seem like it was just for his chest. "Not quite," he said. He didn't even bother to give a warning before he gave Duke's shoulder a harsh shove. Sure enough, he felt the satisfying pop against his palm right about the time he heard Duke cry out.
"Son of a bitch!" Duke seethed, leaning forward to bite the knuckle of his other hand. His face was twisted in a mask of surprise and pain, and Nathan couldn't help feeling bad even though he knew it had to be done. The strangled groans that broke from Duke's throat as he tried to breathe through the pain didn't make it any easier, though.
"Easy," Nathan told him. "The worst part's over, I swear."
A harsh chuckle shook Duke's shoulders. "You sure you don't just want to give me a root canal while you're at it? Here's your chance to work out decades of pent-up frustration. No doubt I've done something to deserve it; justice is what you do, isn't it, law man?"
There was venom in the words, spat through clenched teeth, but there was also a sort of resignation to them. Nathan knotted his eyebrows as he started another roll of the wrap around Duke's shoulder. "Believe it or not, I don't like seeing you black and blue and miserable," he sighed. "You may not be my favorite person sometimes—" that was a lie, "—but you don't deserve to get the shit kicked out of you."
He had more to say, but it was probably best that he didn't have the guts to say it, because he noticed Duke didn't seem to be listening. As he finished pinning the last of the bandages in place, Duke looked to have gone even paler than before, and his eyes had a far off look in them.
"Duke?" Nathan asked, watching as Duke's jaw muscles tensed beneath his skin. Duke didn't answer immediately, and it was only when Nathan put a hand on either side of his face and lifted it that Duke even met his eyes. "Hey, man, talk to me."
And Duke did. "Think 'm gonna be sick," he muttered. Instead of doubling over to hurl, though, he just slunk forward like he'd lost his balance. Nathan managed to catch him just in time, and instead of sitting him up again, he eased him back to lie on the bed.
"You're probably about to pass out," Nathan told him steadily. God, he looked almost skeletal when he was lying on his back, the way his ribs and hip bones stuck out from his toned abdomen. "Try to breathe, slow and deep. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
Though Nathan was leaning right over him, Duke's half-lidded eyes seemed to look everywhere else but at him. He did try to take the breaths Nathan was telling him to, but he only tried for three before he gave up. It felt like his ribs were on fire! Whatever Nathan had done had just made it worse; his shoulder felt like it had been broken in half.
Duke was more than happy to tell him as much. "You just made it worse, you bastard," he groaned, curling in on his side.
"I know it feels like that right now, but you'll thank me in the morning," Nathan assured him. He wasn't honestly sure if that was true, if for no other reason than Duke wasn't really the thanking type, but he knew it was necessary. He also knew it had to hurt like a bitch. "Come on, lean forward for me." He still needed to bandage up that cut on his cheekbone.
Duke, at least, still had the gusto to look incredulous. "You know I was just kidding about the root canal thing, right?" he asked weakly.
"Damn, and I was so looking forward to that." Nathan rolled his eyes with a slight smile. "I just need to patch up that pretty face of yours."
"You think I'm pretty?" Duke asked, arching an eyebrow, only to drop it when it tugged at the goose egg on his temple.
Nathan still blushed. He hadn't meant that – okay, he did mean that. He hadn't meant to say that, though. He quickly covered it up with some sarcasm. "Oh yeah," he said, "freaking gorgeous." Once again, he meant every word of it. Damn, this was harder than it used to be. "You won't be if that heals like that, though, so just let me get a look at it."
That didn't sound like too much fun to Duke, though. At that point, he thought he'd rather just take the scar. He was too sore and too tired to put up with any more of this shit. If Nathan would just let him sleep, he was sure he'd be fine.
"I know you're tired," Nathan said sympathetically. "It won't take me long, though, and then I'll let you sleep."
Duke was confused for a moment. "Did I say that out loud?" he muttered after a brief silence.
Nathan nodded. "Yup. C'mere, I'll make this quick." Without giving Duke the chance to protest again, Nathan scooted forward and grabbed some antiseptic and a Q-tip from the kit. Tipping a hand under Duke's chin, he carefully angled it so that he could get a better look at the cut. As gently as he could, he smeared the antiseptic cream along the cut, and then set the Q-tip down in favor of a butterfly bandage. "This might sting a bit," he warned, and taped the bottom half of the butterfly bandage beneath the cut. Bracing his fingers on Duke's cut, he pushed the edges together and pressed the other half of the butterfly bandage down so that it held the cut closed tightly together. "And we're all done," Nathan announced as he sat back.
That was good, because Duke looked decidedly put out. Put out, pale, and utterly miserable, not to mention completely exhausted. In fact, as Nathan packed away the last of the things back into the first aid tackle box, Duke let out a little yawn.
Nathan was just about to close the box when his eyes fell on a bottle of codeine. He grabbed it, and held it up. "Do I even want to know where you got this?" he asked. There were worse things in there, of course, but he was actually considering giving Duke a dose of the codeine, just to help him sleep. Wounds like his, though life-threatening, hurt like hell.
Duke took a second to look at the bottle, and then replied, "The pharmacy at the corner. Two weeks ago."
Raising an eyebrow, Nathan took a look at the label on the orange bottle. Sure enough, Duke's name was on it with the date set for two weeks ago.
"Why'd you need codeine two weeks ago?" he asked.
Duke shrugged a sort of one-shouldered shrug, keeping the bandaged one carefully still. "Working with HPD is bad for my health, apparently. Audrey gets me into all sorts of things. Don't worry, though; the doc over-prescribed. I don't even take that stuff; I just like to keep it handy, in case."
Reassured, Nathan closed the lid of the tackle box and palmed the pill bottle. "Well guess what, Duke? Tonight, you're taking this stuff."
With a dull look, Duke eyed the bottle as Nathan got up and started for the kitchenette. "I don't take anything that makes me loopy," he said blandly. "I'll be fine with some Tylenol."
As Nathan returned with a glass of water, he didn't waver. "You need to sleep, Duke," he said as he sat the glass on the seat of the chair, freeing up his hand to shake out one of the pills. "Don't worry, anything you say can't and won't be used against you. Strictly off-the-record; scout's honor."
To Duke, it didn't seem like the time to point out that he wasn't worried about saying something Nathan could arrest him for. He was more concerned about saying something Nathan would hate him for. It was hard enough to keep his secret crush to himself when he was coherent.
So, he reinforced his refusal. "I'm not taking it, Wuornos. I can sleep fine without it."
Nathan sighed. Duke was going to be stubborn about this, just like he was with everything else. Luckily, he'd already thought of that, and had set some water to boiling while he tried his hand this time. Leaving the glass on the chair, he walked back to the kitchenette and poured out the steaming water into a NAVY mug. Picking a bag of tea from Duke's frankly absurd collection, he returned to Duke with the mug in hand.
"Drink this, at least," he said, holding out the mug to Duke. The tea he'd chosen was a strong black tea, and had nearly steeped just in the time it had taken him to get back to Duke.
Duke took one look at it and scoffed. "Seriously, man?" he asked. "Just how stupid do you think I am?" He knew that Nathan had more than likely dosed his tea. Frankly, he was a little disappointed; Nathan was supposed to be more clever than that.
Now that he thought about it, though, he was thirsty. He had a bad taste in his mouth, too. There was the glass of water, he thought, which looked oddly good for a glass of water. Mind made up, he reached for the water instead of the mug – leaving Nathan hanging – and chugged the whole glass in one go.
Only to grimace as the aftertaste hit him like a punch to the mouth. "Jesus," he spat, raking his teeth over his tongue as if that could help cleanse the sharply bitter taste from his palate. "Where the hell did you get that water?"
It wasn't until he saw the barest hint of a grin, equal parts apologetic and smug, that Duke realized he'd been had. "You son of a bitch," he whispered as Nathan sat the mug on the nightstand and returned to sit in the chair in front of the bed.
"Just how stupid do you think I am?" Nathan mimicked fondly. His tone wasn't mocking, but reassuring; there was something almost frightened about Duke's expression, and he didn't want him to get upset. Well, more upset.
Of course, Duke didn't go down immediately like everyone always did in the movies; medicine didn't work like that. Between the exhaustion, though, and the relative lack of food on his stomach, it didn't take long for the medicine to start to kick in. After a few minutes of glaring silently at Nathan, Duke started to lean forward a little bit, and then back, and then side to side, like he was trying to sit up straight and just kept overcompensating.
"You're a bastard," Duke muttered. His tongue was so heavy now, like he was trying to talk around a mouthful of his beloved maple syrup.
"I know," was Nathan's patient reply. "But I'm a clever bastard with just the right mix of spite and compassion to do something I know you'll hate, so long as it's for your own good. Which, in case you didn't follow me the last time, this is."
"No it's…" Duke trailed off as his eyes started to get heavy. Without warning, he lurched forward, and Nathan quickly rose to catch him. Instead of helping him right himself, though, he started to ease him back.
"Come on, Duke, easy does it," he said. Duke was wincing like he was in a whole world of pain, and Nathan didn't doubt it. He tried to move him as quickly and carefully as he could, getting his head lined up with the pillows on the bed and working the covers out from under him.
"Tucking me in?" Duke grumbled out through clenched teeth. He was so tired, his words were slurring together.
Nathan nodded with a small smile. "Yep, Duke; I'm tucking you in. Want me to read you a story, too?"
"Done plenty," was Duke's barely-audible reply. He was fading fast, now, and Nathan couldn't help feeling a little bit guilty. He had been a little underhanded, but then, it was necessary, and he certainly owed it to Duke. God only knew the number of time's he'd come through for him or Audrey in a pinch, and to end up like that.
He thought to apologize, but before he could, he realized that Duke was already asleep. All lines of stress had faded from his bruised, yet beautiful face, and Nathan couldn't help thinking that he looked almost…innocent, when he slept. Nathan tried to memorize the picture; it was easily one of the most precious things he'd ever seen.
Unable to resist, Nathan brushed a hand through Duke's ebony locks, only just dried from his shower. They were impossibly soft on his fingers, sending waves of sensation up through his hands and to his very core. That a simple touch could feel like that…he couldn't help wondering what a kiss would feel like. The thought had no sooner occurred to him than he realized he couldn't fight the urge to do just that, and slowly, he leaned down and pressed a kiss, not to Duke's lips – that would be crossing too much of a boundary; as if this wasn't bad enough – but to the smooth skin of his brow.
And with that one touch, that one fleeting moment of contact, Nathan knew it: he was addicted. He, Nathan Wuornos, was addicted to Duke Crocker.