Desperate Morning Embrace

"What are yeh' doin,' Gat?" Hazel ventured quietly when the older man's forehead fell into the nook between the bishop's neck and shoulder. In response to his inquiry, the gunman embraced Hazel even tighter with his strong arms wrapped around the smaller body. The bishop sighed, before reaching up to pat the man's shoulder gently as a quiet sign to let go. "I'm tellin' ya, I'm fine."

Gat shook his head softly and continued to cling. He had almost lost him; Gat just couldn't let the bishop go yet. Hazel could get angry, but Gat needed this confirmation that the smaller man was still here and still breathing. Gat's own breaths were labored and deep; his fingers dug into the soft fabric of the bishop's robes.

"It's alright, Gat." Hazel cooed softly and rubbed his back like a small child. The man's breathing started to even out and Hazel pat his back. The bishop's back was probably bruised, and Gat's grip wasn't helping the ache, but it seemed the larger man needed to be treated with kid gloves at the moment. "Twas'nt yer fault."

Gat happened to disagree with that statement and shook his head. It was most definitely his fault. Gat hadn't been there. Gat didn't save Hazel; didn't push him out of the way. Gat didn't notice the danger fast enough and it was so very close. Just a few more millimeters closer and that piece of sheet metal would have taken Hazel's head straight off. It didn't matter that the man hadn't actually been injured. For the ten minutes it took to get Hazel out from under the rubble Gat had no idea if the man was alive or not. And the odds were against him living with all the sharp edges and clutter and the utter silence that had fallen after the crash.

"Le'go, Gat." Hazel dropped his arms and rested his head on the man's shoulder. While Hazel did appreciate the concern, he couldn't help but feel the other man was overreacting a touch. It was an accident, plain and simple. Things like this happened; Hazel had always thought Gat to be more level headed than this. "Yer' makin' a scene."

It was true, the others were still watching Gat crush Hazel to his chest. Somehow, Gat couldn't bring himself to care. It's not like the Sanzo party cared about their wellbeing; they already hated Hazel. Why should their opinion matter if Gat wanted to express his relief that his Master was alive? "Hazel."

The bishop let out a breath and let the other man have his way for the moment. It almost bothered him how shaken Gat was at the moment. Would Gat really, truly be that upset if something happened to the bishop? Hazel had always thought that Gat protected him out of mostly obligation; the suffocating embrace spoke otherwise. Hazel had to wonder what that could mean for the two of them. "I'm fine, really." Hazel chuckled softly. "Though I might not be able ta' breath if ya' keep squeezin' so tight."

Gat loosened his hold enough to put some space between the two, but he kept a firm grip on Hazel's shoulders and looked the man over. His silver hair was ruffled slightly, hat missing and lost on the ground somewhere, but otherwise there wasn't a mark. Just a lot of dirt and debris sticking to the fabric of his clothing. Gat was truly grateful that someone was watching over Hazel. Gat's hands shook slightly as he tried to calm himself. It was a miracle he was alright.

Hazel smiled and rubbed the back of Gat's hands with his gloved fingers soothingly. The man was finally starting to calm down, which was a good thing. Thankfully, Hazel caught the Sanzo party leaving in the corner of his eyes. They should have left earlier; twas rude to watch a man break down. "See? Everythin's fine."

"But-"

"Everythin's fine." Hazel cut Gat off before he could start. The bishop already knew what was coming from the man's mouth. But you were almost hurt. I didn't get there. And all sorts of other ways to blame himself for something that truly wasn't his fault. Hazel decided to reiterate the point for Gat so he understood. "It twasn't yer' fault." Hazel smirked. "Unless you were the one who knocked over that there scaffoldin.' Then it woulda' been yer' fault for sure."

Gat frowned at Hazel's joke; this wasn't funny. A flimsy metal scaffolding with tools and sharp edges had collapsed on top of the bishop while he was just standing there and it had almost killed him. Gat had been sparring with Goku while Hazel watched from the sidelines since they were all up before breakfast. He hadn't noticed the creaking at all and didn't even head to Hazel's side until after all of it collapsed.

The bishop had been buried under metal, tools and everything else that had been on the structure. Heavy thngs and Hazel had been hidden from view. Gat genuinely thought Hazel had been severely injured and had raced to yank the clutter off and out of the way. It had taken ten minutes to remove it all and he had found Hazel in a ball with his head covered at the bottom, protected by two sheets that had hit each other and formed a little tent. Two sharp sheets that would have surely killed him had they fallen any other way.

It wasn't funny at all.

"Oh stop yer' frownin.'" Hazel pushed the larger man's arms off his shoulders. The bishop pushed a single finger up to Gat's face and pointed. Gat took too much responsibility onto himself. "It's not like I was attacked or nothing.' You can't stop everything, Gat."

It was true. Gat's reflexes were near top notch when it came to getting in the way of attacks from living things, but accidents and inanimate objects were out of his scope unless he was completely concentrating on Hazel. Letting himself get lost in a spar with Goku had nearly cost Hazel his life. There was a clinching in his chest over that revelation. Was there no way Gat could be friends with the little one and still protect Hazel?

"Com'on." The bishop rapped his knuckles on Gat's chest as the man stood there, face down and shoulders slumped. "Let's go'in wash up."

"Hazel." Gat spoke softly as the bishop walked away towards the house, brushing the dust off his robes. The gunman followed and kept his eyes focused on that slim back. He was never letting it out of his sight again.