A/N: Oh my goodness, is this an update? WTH? I know, it's taken me a bit longer than last time but I did have to do real work. Sorry. Hope you like this one, unbetaed so please alert me if there are any gratuitous mistakes! :D
Oh, and reviews please!
Chapter 3.
Dean came back to the bar just as it was closing.
Nate was poised, hand raised to close the door and lock it when a hand flailed into his line of sight. It gripped the door jam, and as Nate watched, blood rolled down the fingers onto the wood. His stomach sank.
"Whoa," He muttered, opening the door wider to peer out into the night, "Hey, buddy are you alright?"
It was a inane question really when Nate thought about it, rather superfluous when looking into the kid's face; there was a thin but long cut on the kid's forehead, leading from somewhere amongst the masses of spiky, dirty blonde hair, down to the top of his left ear and it was bleeding sluggishly. His face was pale and wan but his eyes were wild, pupils blown wide only a thin ring of lime surrounding them.
Pain induced delirium.
"Hey, hey buddy," Nate said, gripping a shoulder. The guy hissed, flinching back from the touch and Nate let him go like he'd been electrocuted. "You need to get to a hospital, I'll call an ambulance."
"No," his voice was forceful, adamant. "No hospitals." He took a shuddering breath and Nate noticed his teeth were pink from his own blood, "Need El,"
"No, no, buddy. Kid, concentrate, you need a hospital. Come in, I'm going to call for some help." Nate turned, mouth open, ready to call Sophie when a hand grabbed his shoulder. The grip was tight, almost too tight and he winced.
"No hospitals." The guy growled again and it was the tone of voice, the deadly serious look in his eyes that reminded him of Eliot.
"Okay, okay. Calm down, I was just going to call for my friends, they're upstairs-"
"Nate!" Parker yelled from the back of the bar and Nate sighed in relief.
"Parker I-"
"Dean! Dean what happened?" Her voice was high and wavering and Nate raised his eyebrows.
"Parker you know this guy?" Nate asked.
"Dean, oh no, Dean what happened?" She said again, ignoring Nate's questions. She took hold of Dean's hand, and motioned for Nate to close the door and grab his duffle bag.
"Hey Parker," Dean sighed. "Got into a little bit o' bother on that last job."
"Eliot's not here Dean, but I'll get Hardison to call him. Eliot will know what to do, just come on, upstairs."
"Darlin' I don't think I could take walkin' up a flight of stairs right now," His laugh was short and self-deprecating.
"You can take the lift," Nate said, pointing towards the back. "Come on, you look like you could use some help.""Nah, man. I'm fine."
"But you just said-" Parker broke in, face tilted up to look at Dean worriedly.
"Darlin'," Dean said, "I'm gonna be fine, just need Eliot to patch me up a bit, you know, with my "phobia" of hospitals and all that," He grinned, although to Nate it looked more a like a grimace.
"Come on Parker, let's just get him upstairs, then we'll call Eliot."
Dean moved surprisingly briskly for someone who looked so beat up. Nate watched him warily, not sure what to make of this kid who spoke of Eliot like they were brothers, who comforted Parker like they were friends.
The lift door pinged, and the trio shuffled inside, Dean exhaling with relief as he slumped against the wall.
"Sorry," He muttered, noting the blood dripping down his arm onto the floor, "I'll clean it later."
"Don't worry about it." Nate replied as the door of the lift slid open again. They had barely made it out of the lift when Parker started yelling again.
"Hardison! Hardison we need help out here!" She called and Dean groaned, complaining:
"Keep it down blondie, making my head hurt even more over here."
"Sorry," She muttered unconvincingly.
The door to Nate's apartment banged open and Hardison and Sophie leapt out into the corridor. The combined gasp of Sophie and yell of Hardison almost made Nate smile, but the slight of the bloodied kid next to him pulled his lips down again.
"Dean, man what the hell happened?"
"Stop makin' a fuss, it's not that bad. I'm just looking for Eliot."
"Stop makin' a- not that ba- Dean, man you're bleeding like a stuck pig."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, can I sit down somewhere please, I'm talking to three of you at the moment, but I think that's the blood loss."
"Christ," Sophie murmured, "Hardison get out of the way, go call Eliot. Hey." She said softly, "Come in and sit down. I'm Sophie." "A Brit? Hm. I'm Dean. If I wasn't so beat up I'd probably make a pass at you right now," Dean smiled, a little pained and Nate bristled.
"Sweetie, if you weren't so beat up, I'd probably make a pass at you too," She grinned back, jokingly and Nate's hackles went up even more as she disappeared back inside his apartment.
"Come on, come on." He barked, "Get him inside, already."
Dean looked at him then, eyes narrowed before he huffed a laugh out. "Oh, I get it. Sorry man." He said.
"What?" Nate replied, face flushing.
"Don't worry," Dean murmured so low only Nate could hear, "I won't steal your girl."
"Come on, Spiky," Parker said softly, tugging on his arm, leading him into the apartment.
"Alright," Dean huffed, shuffling forwards. "Sorry to impose on you and what not."
"Shut up, man," Hardison said from his computer. "Eliot's on his way. Sounds pissed,"
Dean laughed rubbing a hand over his eyes, "Eliot always sounds pissed."
"That's true," Hardison grinned easily. "So you gonna explain what happened?"
"I think I'll spare you the gory details. I'm more concerned with getting some stitches from my favourite long haired-butch-country 'n' western loving-nursemaid."
Sophie laughed, sorting through the first-aid kit a little hopelessly. "I don't know what I'm looking for," She said a little apologetically.
"S'alright. Some gauze, anything for stitches in there?"
"I don't know, I don't know what to look for, Eliot's always the one who patches us up."
"Never mind, I'll just wait for butch to get back then. In the mean time, anyone got any whiskey?"
Nate stiffened when everyone's gazes fell on him. Yeah the resident alcoholic was sure to have some booze. Ha. But Dean grinned self-consciously, gripping his hurt shoulder, missing the pointed looks at Nate.
"I know, I know stupid question, you living above a bar and all." Dean said wearily.
"I'll go find something." Nate muttered, dropping Dean's duffle bag with a clatter. Nate backed away into the hall, happy to get away from the pointed glances, but really Nate was just happy to be away from that kid.
This kid. This 'Dean' spoke about Eliot like they were friends, old friends. The easy familiarity that he spoke about Eliot with made Nate realise how little he actually knew about the gruff Hitter. Eliot didn't talk about his past, period. Sure Nate realised that this was probably because Eliot couldn't talk about some of it, but to know next to nothing about a person was unsettling. Which brought him back to Dean. To say Nate was unsettled by his appearance was an understatement. After-all if he was such a good friend of Eliot's, why had he never been mentioned? Why had he never visited before? Or picked up the phone and called? Why-this was getting ridiculous. He knew how to fight at least, knew how to take care of himself. So maybe he was like Eliot.
Nate was behind the bar when Eliot slammed in, hair dishevelled, eyes wild. "Where is he?" He growled, and Nate had never heard Eliot sound like that before.
"Upstairs, Eliot-" But Eliot was already gone, sprinting up the staircase before Nate could get the question out.
It was interesting. His voice had been a combination of anger, fury and worry. Fear that this guy, this kid - because that's all he was, a kid - was hurt. He shook his head once, dispelling the image and reached under the bar for the nearest bottle of whiskey.
Eliot had to stop himself from slamming his phone against a wall.
Dean.
Hurt.
At the bar.
Shit. Shit. He had to get there now.
Luckily, Eliot was only around the corner and within minutes he was slamming into the bar, shouting "Where is he?" His voice was cold and hard and full of fear. Nate had looked shocked.
"Upstairs, Eliot-" He began, but he was already off and sprinting up the staircase leading to Nate's apartment, before slamming into yet another room and scaring the shit out of his friends.
Hardison, Parker and Sophie shot out of their chairs, faces pale at his abrupt arrival, only Dean, who was used to his dramatic entrances stayed seated and unnerved.
"What the hell happened?" He growled at the seated man, all the while cataloguing his injuries; cut on his face, possible dislocated shoulder, possible stab wound. "Dammit Dean!"
Dean shifted at his question, twisting his lips as he tried to find a way to tell Eliot without telling his team. "Hmm." He said, thinking.
"Well?" He growled. Sophie flinched at his tone in the corner of his vision.
Dean tutted, "Remember that other time in Mexico?"
Hardison snorted quietly from the corner of the room, saying to Parker, "How many times have they been to Mexico?"
But all Eliot could think was: Mexico. Revenants. Shit.
"Shit. Shit Dean! They dead?"
"Yeah, took a while though. Nasty bastards," He groaned remembering - the smell probably - "Speaking of, you think you could," He motioned towards the first-aid kit and Eliot nodded.
"Are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital?" Sophie asked, face pale at the mention of dead bodies.
"Hospitals and I don't get on," Dean said, shifting uncomfortably.
"Mainly cos they'll call the police if they realise who you are." Eliot said, shucking off his coat and dropping it on the sofa next to Dean. He grabbed the first-aid kit, pulling out some gauze and antiseptic before kneeling in front of the seated man.
"What do you mean?" Hardison asked, sitting up.
"Hardison. We talked about this. No background checks."
"Ah let him if he wants," Dean said wincing as Eliot dabbed the cut on his face with antiseptic, "Dude, careful. It's not true what they say 'bout me, just so you know."
"Yeah, yeah, sure." Eliot replied, "Apart from the whole grave desecration, breaking and entering, credit card fraud-"
"They get the idea man," Dean said, huffing.
"Grave desecration?" Sophie said, somewhat horrified, hands fluttering about her throat.
"Breaking and entering!" Parker crowed happily, slapping her hands on her thighs with delight.
"Credit card fraud?" Hardison coughed with surprise. He slammed his orange soda down on the desk, spluttering when it toppled over. "Credit-fraud-what?"
"Yeah," Dean looked sheepish, "Would you believe me if I said it's all a big part of my job?"
"It would be good to mention that said job involves helping people." Eliot said, rolling his eyes, "He's not a Satanist." He assured Sophie, threading the needle. "Well, not all the time."
"You are though," Dean responded with a grimace, "Christ that hurt, watch where you stick that thing!"
"If you would stop moving so much I wouldn't have to stab you in the eye with a needle then would I?"
"Shuddup." Dean grumbled, closing his eyes wearily. "You might have to stitch up a-" He stopped suddenly, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. "Do you think we can do this somewhere a bit more private?" He asked, quietly.
"No." Eliot growled, fumbling with the needle before tying the stitches on his head off. "Soph, gimme a bandage would you?"
"Sure," She said, rummaging through Eliot's first-aid kit. "So how do you two know each other?" She asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.
"Yeah, I'd like to know too." Nate said from the doorway.
"Christ dude" Dean said, "Scare the shit outta me why don't you."
"Sorry," Nate said unconvincingly.
"That whiskey for me?" Dean asked.
"Yeah." Nate answered shortly passing it to him, and Eliot looked up from bandaging Dean's head. Dean took the chance to take a long draught from the bottle, hissing as it burned all the way down.
Eliot watched as Nate frowned at Dean. Eliot knew that look. It was the one Nate gave all those criminals and low-lives, the baddies, the fucking maniacs that they dealt with, the one that said you're a piece of shit.
"What?" Eliot snarled and Nate looked taken aback.
"N-nothing." Nate replied, frowning.
"Hey," Dean said quietly, nudging Eliot's shoulder, "Chill butch."
Eliot snorted, butch. He hadn't heard that one in years. He nodded, turned from Nate and looked at Dean appraisingly. "Your shoulder's dislocated." He said quietly.
"No shit," Dean responded dryly. "I thought it was supposed to be like that."
"It's your right one too, shit how many times have you dislocated this?"
"Now?" Dean said, grimacing, "Fourth time, this one's gonna hurt like a mother I can tell."
"How'd it happen?" Parker asked brightly sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Dean.
"Well I went one way and my shoulder went another," Dean joked.
"No really," Parker insisted.
Dean sighed, "I nearly fell off some scaffolding. S'my own fault really."
"Dean," Eliot growled.
"I know, I know."
"Where was Sam in all this? You told me Sam was with you and that was why you didn't need any help." Eliot said. When he got no answer he growled, "Dean."
"Alright, Sammy's not here. He's back at Bobby's doing research for another gig. I told him I could handle it and I was right. I got the bad guys didn't I."
"Yeah and nearly got yourself killed at the same time. Dean, I was being serious when I said I would help."
"You've got a good thing going here. I didn't want to drag you back into my life, my job." Dean said shaking his head.
"Dean," Eliot said, pulling back to glare at him. "Are you a fucking idiot? You don't take a job like that alone, you'll get yourself fucking killed! You should have had back-up. You're Dad would have tanned your hide if-" And Eliot knew, he knew he'd gone too far with the mention of John. And he was right. Dean's face darkened, the wry grin dropped off his face and was replaced with a frown and a snarl.
"You got out for a reason, man." Dean shoved Eliot, and he went sprawling. The carpet burned Eliot's elbows and he stared at Dean in shock.
Parker shifted back from Dean, her mouth turned down in the corners and Sophie put a hand on her shoulder, tugging her backwards as they watched Eliot lever himself upright again.
"Hey," Nate said, trying to placate, trying to reassert some semblance of control.
"You think I wanted you to go through that again?" Dean yelled. He stood up, swaying slightly before continuing, "No way in hell. I wasn't going to change your mind back then and I'm not going to try now. Fuck you Eliot. Wyoming was some bad shit, if I hadn't found you in time you'd still be fucking-"
"Dean, stop." Eliot said forcefully. "You did find me, it's alright"
"No, it's not alright. Do you know what it was like for me that week? I had no idea where you where. I had no fucking clue what it was doing to you, and it was all my fault!"
"Dean, I was the one who messed up that night, not you!"
"You were gone a week, you were like that for a whole fucking week!"
"I wasn't awake the whole time." He murmured softly. "And you forget what happened when you found me! So if anybody should be apologising-"
"That wasn't you and you know it! You know what? Screw this. Screw you Eliot, I shouldn't have come back here. I've patched myself up for the past 20 years alone, I can still do it now." Dean made to get up, but it was the wince, the pained furrow of his brows, the hiss of breath that he couldn't quite contain that made Eliot step forwards again. He pressed a hand down onto Dean's uninjured shoulder, just enough pressure to stop him from moving and injuring himself further.
"Sit. Down." He said lowly.
Dean flinched, looked up at him from under his eyebrows and sighed, "Eliot." It was almost a plea, most definitely a whine.
"Just sit here and let me patch you up." He said. "When I'm done, you can throw things and punch me and storm out and slam all the doors you want as you fucking go. All that dramatic girly shit you like. Whatever you want man, hell you can fucking punch Hardison if you want,"
"Hey!" Hardison said, disgruntled.
Dean snorted, shaking his head once. "I'll hold you to that," He said grinning as Hardison said "Hey!" again. "Think you can fix my shoulder now, it hurts like a mother,"
"Yeah, yeah, calm down. Parker, can you get some ice, or something and wrap it in a towel?"
"Aye, aye Cap'n." She sing-songed, propelling herself towards the kitchen.
"Hey," Sophie said, taking Dean by the arm again leading him towards the table, "Come on, you'll need to brace yourself against something."
"Hands off Sophie, there'll be time enough for you to manhandle him later," Eliot grumbled, watching from the corner of his eyes as Nate's face darkened and he stormed after Parker into the kitchen.
"You keep teasin' him, he's gonna come after me with a kitchen knife. You're supposed to be patching me up, not getting me more injured!" Dean said, peering over his shoulder as he was led away by Sophie.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever man. Get your leather jacket off, Hardison can you help?" Eliot called.
"Uh huh, sure." The hacker stood up and in two strides was next to Dean and Sophie, helping him to slide the jacket off his injured arm.
"Careful with that," He murmured to Hardison, who nodded before draping it over one of the chairs. With the jacket gone, Eliot could catalogue more injuries. Blood seeping through the lower section of his back seemed to indicate what he really, really hoped wasn't a bite.
"Is that a-" Eliot trailed off, motioning to the blood on his shirt.
"Yeah," Dean said grimly, "But luckily I got all the stuff I need in my duffle."
What could Eliot say to that? Thank God you've got some holy water on hand cos I'm fresh out of it? He shook his head at Dean's grin before saying to Sophie: "Can you get some hot water? Put it in a big bowl, and get some towels?"
"Sure," She murmured, letting go of Dean's forearm and traipsing into the kitchen.
"Thanks man," Dean said quietly.
"Didn't think you'd want an audience for this," Eliot replied looking at Hardison pointedly.
"I can go if you want," Hardison said motioning over his shoulder with a thumb, forehead furrowed with worry.
"Nah, man. It's just the chicks, you know how they get." Dean replied, rolling his eyes.
"Brace yourself, it's gonna hurt." Eliot said. "On three?"
"They always say that and then go on two." Dean grumbled. "Alright," He sighed again, a world-weary sigh that made Eliot's lips turn up at the corners. "Go on, do your worst." He said.
Eliot reached forwards then, placing his hands on either side of Dean's injured shoulder, "Okay? One." He said, and pushed.
With a sickening crack the shoulder slide back into place and Dean swore loudly. He slammed a fist down on the table, hissing out, "Fuck, mother fuck, mother fucking shit. Christ that hurt."
"Yeah, no shit from your reaction I thought it tickled."
"Ha ha." Dean said. "Fucking sadistic bastard."
"What's with the yelling?" Parker asked, flouncing in with peas wrapped in a kitchen towel, "Here's your peas," She grinned, chucking them at Eliot's face.
"The yelling was me being tortured by your so called friend."
"Eliot!" Parker scolded.
"What?" He passed the peas to Dean who promptly slapped them on his shoulder blade, hissing with relief as the cold seeped into his aching muscles. "I think I need to take a look at your back,"
"I know," Dean said, eyes closed.
"You wanna stretch out on the table?"
"Not really. But I'm gonna end up doing it anyway, aren't I?"
"Yep." Eliot smiled. "Soph, where's the hot water?"
"Here, here," She said, carrying the bowl with a pair of oven gloves on.
"Parker can you get my duffle?" Dean asked, levering himself up onto the table.
"Sure!"
"No stealing!" Dean called groggily, pointing a finger at her.
"No fun," She said, dragging the bag behind her.
"Thank you kindly," Dean said, dropping it onto the table and unzipping it one handed.
"Dude," Hardison said, "That is a lot of guns and knives."
"Yeah, tools of the trade and all that." He said rummaging through its contents.
"Eliot doesn't like guns," Parker said solemnly. She was cross-legged again, sitting on table. It was the innocent tone that made Dean stop and look up at her through his eyelashes.
"Gimme," Dean said after a moments contemplation. Eliot watched as her eyes narrowed to slits and she pouted.
"No fun," She said, dropping a knife into his open hand.
"Man, Dean, you gotta tell me how you do that!" Hardison sighed.
"Years of practise my friend, years of practise." Dean said, still rummaging through his duffle.
Nate had reappeared, carrying a bundle of towels and dropped them onto the table next to the bowl of hot water. "What are you looking for?" He asked, peering into the bag warily. His eyebrows shot towards his hairline when he realised what he was looking at.
"What the hell is this?" He hissed.
"What?" Dean said, without looking up.
"Eliot, what the hell-who the hell is this guy?"
"Dude," Dean said glancing up at Nate, "Chill out."
"Chill out?" Nate spluttered. "You have knives and guns and god knows what else in that bag. Eliot I want to know right now who this guy is."
"You could just ask me." Dean said, offended.
Eliot watched as Nate stepped closer to Dean, poking him in the shoulder with a finger. Dean swayed backwards, gripping the table for support as the tender muscle around his shoulder throbbed and complained its treatment.
"Nate," Sophie said, trying to break in at the sight of Dean's pale face.
"Eliot-" He began again, expression dark and furious.
"Dean Winchester at your service." Dean said groaned. "But can we do this after I've stopped bleeding?" He lanced Nate with a glare darker than one of Eliot's own, gripping his injured shoulder again and the hitter grinned, watching as Nate backed away.
"Do you mind," Dean spoke low so only to Eliot. "Can we go somewhere a bit more private?" Eliot nodded once and picked up his duffle, motioning to one of the back rooms.
"I need to patch him up," Eliot said bluntly to the room, "Don't bother us."
Hardison nodded, turning to go back to his computer while Sophie had to pull Nate away from the table to go and sit on the couch on the other side of the room. Parker however, pouted and refused to budge. Eliot was about to open his mouth and bark out a threat when Dean said quietly "Please Parker?"
Parker startled at his tone, as if realising that Dean was really hurt, as if she just clicked that for all his bravado and smiles Dean was actually pretty banged up. Her lips turned down in the corners and her shoulders hunched. "Sorry," She muttered.
Dean groaned, throwing his head back. "Dude I hate it when chicks do that," He grumbled, grabbing onto Eliot's offered arm.
"Tell me about it." Eliot grumbled back and led him into the back room.
A/N :O *Runs for the hills*
