Dom's not sure how long they sit out there, mostly in comfortable silence, just watching the stars and the water. He gets the feeling Brian comes out here a lot, though, because there's this sort of peace on his face.
On the other hand, though, he notices after a while that he doesn't look as comfortable as before. He's tense again, maybe a little more pale, and Dom's pressed up close enough that he thinks he – no, he definitely – feels Brian shivering.
And that shit's not gonna fly. See, he figured out a while back that Brian likes to be warm. Which sucks for him, because the guy's got next to nothing for insulation, so the chill seems to have a way of seeping in whenever it's there. And it looks like he was right about that shirt of his not doing much to keep him warm, because he's hugging himself, and even if he isn't saying it, Dom can tell he's cold.
So, Dom does the only logical thing. He's fine out – he's got a lot more padding, though – so he shrugs out of his leather jacket and, before Brian can muster up a protest, he drapes it around his shoulders.
A part of him's kind of smug when it covers up the Tej's Garage logo on the back. Brian's his, and damned if it doesn't feel a little good to mark his claim. Besides, he knows Brian. He knows Brian wants to argue, wants to be macho and tell Dom he's fine, but it's a sure sign of how much it helps that he keeps his mouth shut and pulls the jacket closer, and when Dom puts his arm around him and pulls him closer into his side, he doesn't seem to mind that, either.
He's thinking maybe he should add 'cat' somewhere on that list of Brian's spirit animals, because he thinks he might actually start purring here in a bit.
Except…nah, he doesn't look that comfortable. Yeah, he looks better than he was, but his face is still pale, Dom realizes. Drawn. And it looks less like he's hugging his middle, and more like he's cradling his left arm, now that Dom gets to looking at it.
"You okay?" He tries to sound casual, but he's worried again. Hell, he hasn't stopped being worried since he heard about Brian going on the lamb, and especially not since he heard about this thing with Verone.
Brian gives a pretty unconvincing nod, and Dom thinks he probably knows it, because he sighs and adds, "I drove a car onto a moving yacht a couple hours ago."
Dom's pretty sure he's not imagining the hint of pride in Brian's voice, and he can't help smiling a little, too. "Figured that was your crazy ass," he says.
"Yeah." Brian grins and pulls Dom's jacket a little tighter around himself. "That was my crazy ass. Now it's my sore ass."
"That how you got that shiner?"
Brian nods, once. "Banged my head against the steering wheel pretty good," he says. It's not a complaint; he's just calling it how it is.
Honestly, Dom wouldn't mind if he was complaining. He figures if you can't complain after crashing a car into some murdering millionaire's yacht, when can you? But, no, that's not Brian's style. The guy could probably be in a full body cast and try and brush it off like it's nothing.
"My man Rome broke his arm, though, so I came out lucky."
"You and I see 'lucky' very differently."
Brian just gives a one-sided shrug, which somehow ends in him yawning, and they're definitely back to golden retriever, because he lets out this kind of whine mid-yawn like he always does, and his whole body shakes. Dom's always thought it was kind of funny. Cute as hell, but funny.
"Making fun of me?" It's more an accusation than a question, but it's more a joke than either. "Asshole."
Dom chuckles. "Oh, I ain't making fun of you. I'm just trying to figure out how I'm gonna get your wiry ass down those stairs if you fall asleep on me."
"Nah, man, I ain't gonna fall asleep on you."
"You say that, but I give you ten minutes before you're passed the fuck out."
Smiling, Brian shakes his head. "No faith."
"I got plenty of faith in you," Dom tells him. "It's this rust bucket I don't trust."
"Hey, don't hate. She's got good bones."
"So did Alicia Turner in the twelfth grade, but I wouldn't climb on her if I didn't have to, either."
Brian gets a kick out of that. "Alicia, huh? This the part where I'm supposed to get jealous?"
"This is the part where you're supposed to let me take you to bed, Sleepy."
"Bullshit," Brian shoots back. "How easy do you think I am?"
"If it helps, I'll throw in a tuna sandwich." He takes his arm from around Brian's shoulders and stands, holding out a hand for Brian to take. "No crust."
And there it is – one of those full, cheek-splitting, eye-crinkling grins of Brian's, and that's worth every single one of those 3,000 miles and then some. "Damn straight, no crust," he says, taking Dom's offered hand. Dom tries to be careful hauling him up, sore as he knows he is, but his breath still catches and he still winces. He recovers quick, though, that grin falling right back into place, even if it's maybe a little more strained. "I'm a high-class broad."
"Damn straight," Dom agrees, and he steals a short, quick kiss before slipping his arm around Brian's waist. All kidding aside, he can definitely tell Brian's feeling that crash-landing, now. Every move he makes is ginger, like he can't even take a step without something hurting. Dom knows the feeling, and he's trying to help as much as he can without hurting him more, because he's thinking, if he looks, he'll see some nice little bruises starting to bloom along those thin hips and chest where the seatbelt bit in. As it is, he can already make out bruises on his arms, and the one on his brow's spread down under his eye to a real decent shiner.
He doesn't want to, but he has to let go of Brian when they get to the top of the stairs down. They aren't exactly wide enough for two, so Dom heads down first, and lets Brian bring up the rear while he goes and finds something to drink in the mini-fridge.
He's just got the thing open when he hears a loud thud, followed quickly by a few others and a sharp, surprised cry. And fuck a beer, because he's whipping around and letting the fridge slam closed behind him, because that…that didn't sound good.
It doesn't look good, either. He takes one look at Brian, who somehow went from standing at the top of the stairs to on his ass at the bottom in the two seconds Dom had his back turned, and he starts running. He has to step over a surfboard that tipped over when Brian fell, but it doesn't slow him down that much.
"Hey, hey, what happened?" he says quickly, dropping to his knees in front of Brian.
The younger man's got himself wedged back between the bottom stair and the wall, his right knee pulled up to his chest and the other stretched out. He's got his forehead pressed to his bent knee, and it looks to Dom like he's holding his left arm in a death grip, and damn, he's hurting bad, if those sounds he's making are anything to go by.
"Let me see." He's got one hand on the back of Brian's head, and he hooks the other under Brian's bent knee to pull it out, but Brian's curled up fucking tight. "Brian, let me see." And he's not sure if it's because Brian lets him or if he just can't stop him, but he manages to pull Brian's other leg out flat.
He's definitely cradling his left arm, Dom thinks. Except cradling isn't really the word. He's holding that shit like he's afraid it's about to fall off, and now that his head isn't buried in his knee, he can see the fucking agony on his face. He's gone ashen, and Dom can feel him shaking in his hands, and he's already broken out in a cold sweat, none of which are good signs in his book.
"Fuck," Brian grinds out. His voice is pitched high and reedy, and the sound ties Dom's gut in knots.
"Okay," Dom says. "It's okay." He's trying to be careful, pulling his jacket away, but even that looks like it hurts him, and he's amazed his hands aren't shaking when he starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Breathe, Bri. I got you. It's okay." But he's kind of afraid he might be lying, because he doesn't think he's ever seen someone in that much pain, and he knows Brian can handle a lot of shit. Seeing the guy that broke a damn finger under a dropped engine and worked clear through the rest of the day before anyone even noticed, sheet white and in so much pain he can't even move…shit.
And when he finally gets his shirt open and manages to ease it off his left shoulder, he sees why. He was shit in anatomy class, but he knows, he knows a shoulder ain't supposed to look like that. There's an unnatural-looking bulge, and the whole thing's a wicked purple-red. That bruising didn't just happen, either; it looks like it's had a couple hours, and Dom's wondering if the fall didn't just finish off a crack that was already there. Either way, Mia may be the nurse in the family, but he knows a broken collar bone when he sees one.
"Shit," he growls, because that wasn't what he wanted to see. It's there, though, and he knows he needs to deal with it. "Hold on, Bri. I'll be right back." He is, too. He runs and grabs a shirt from Brian's trunk, and then he comes back, ripping it up until he's got what he needs to work with. "Okay, Bri, I gotta move your arm—"
Brian makes a noise halfway between a hysterical-sounding laugh and a groan and presses his head against the wall. His eyes are screwed up tight, and it's like he can't quite catch his breath, because he's panting, and his whole body's shaking.
"Easy, easy." It takes some doing to pry Brian's other hand off his arm – and shit, that's a big bruise on his elbow – so that he can get the t-shirt around it, and Brian's gritting his teeth around a scream that still fucking hurts to hear. He tries his best to block it out, moving quick as he can without doing more damage to tie the t-shirt off behind his neck so that he's got the makeshift sling in place.
As soon as he's done, he's got his hand behind Brian's head again, pressing his lips to his hair and muttering quick, soft assurances. "You're okay," he tells him. "It's done, Bri. You're okay." His skin's cool to the touch, though, and that's definitely not a good sign, and as much as Dom wants to let him catch his breath, he knows he's got to get him to the hospital. "Think you can stand?"
The fact that Brian doesn't automatically nod tells Dom a lot of things, and none of them good. The fact that he actually ends up shaking his head is even worse.
"Brian, we gotta get you out to the car. Either you're walking or I'm carrying you, but you can't stay there." And as much as he wants to just go with the latter and save Brian the trouble, he's worried that might actually hurt him worse. Too jarring.
"Why not?" It's terse, hissed through gritted teeth, but Dom can't help thinking it's just fucking pitiful, and it kills him.
He moves his hand from Brian's head to cup his jaw, brushing his thumb just below the line of bruising on his cheek. "We gotta get you to a hospital." And oh, Dom thinks, Brian does not like that word, because his eyes go wide.
"No," he says firmly, and it would actually be pretty impressive, if his face wasn't whiter than Dom's shirt. "No hospital."
"I'm not asking." He will actually drag his ass out to the car if he has to.
Brian stares at him for a long minute, his eyes hard and his pale face set. Dom thinks if he grinds his teeth any harder. But Dom's not backing down, and he can tell Brian's looking for an out, but he's not gonna get one. Brian seems to figure that out, too, because he lets out a laugh that sounds suspiciously like a sob and leans his head back against the wall.
"Shit."
Dom presses another kiss to his head. "Sorry, Buster." And he is. Christ, he is. But this isn't optional. "So, can you stand or not?"
It takes Brian a second, but finally, his head jerks in what Dom thinks is a nod.
"Alright, then, come on." He moves around to Brian's side, slipping under his other arm and putting a hand around his waist. Brian helps as much as he can, but Dom ends up pretty much dead lifting him to his feet. With the adrenaline, though, that's not all that hard; the only reason he's moving as slow as he is as they start for the door is because Brian's starting to list, and they barely make it out the door before Brian's doubling over the side of the dock, turning his insides out.
He hates to do it, but Dom takes the chance, with Brian clinging to the rail and a lawn chair right behind him to catch him, to run back onto the boat and grab a few things. There's a gym bag on the chair, so he grabs it and dumps it out on the floor before cramming it with shit that looks like it might come in handy that he can grab quick like flip flips and a couple plastic grocery bags, and he grabs his jacket, too, before running back out the porch.
Brian's right where Dom left him, except it looks like he's down to dry-heaving, because nothing's coming up.
He jumps like he's been shot when Dom comes up behind him and puts his jacket back over his shoulders – gently – and slipping an arm back around his waist. "Catch your breath," he says, and Brian grits his teeth and nods like he's trying, but Dom can still feel his muscles convulsing. He waits until the worst of them die down to get Brian moving again, and he's making sure to watch the ground where they're walking, because Brian's barefoot, and the last thing he needs is tetanus. "Almost there, Bri." They're almost to the car, and with his free hand, he fishes his keys out of his pocket.
Brian's getting a little steadier on his feet, now, and by the time they make it to the car, Dom is almost comfortable letting him go long enough to get the door open.
"Watch your arm," Dom says as Brian gets in, but Brian's actually kind of smiling, in a strained kind of way, and Dom's really not sure what to make of that. "What?"
"You kept it." It comes out sounding strained and hoarse, and Dom's wondering how much will power he's exerting to keep from singing his lunch again, but there's something in his eyes that isn't pain, and Dom's relieved to see it. "The Supra."
Even messed up as he is, of course Brian would notice. It probably doesn't hurt that, when they repainted it – because it had been used in the heist, and it paid to be careful about that shit – they'd based it off Brian's old Eclipse, the one Tran destroyed, with bright green and a blue that doesn't even come close to Brian's eyes, but still manages to remind him of them.
He maintains he did it because he liked the design elements. Seriously. He's no sap.
Except for when he is.
But this…this isn't one of those times. Romance and charm can come when Brian's bones are all where they're supposed to be, and matter of fact, he's thinking getting his head looked out wouldn't be too bad an idea, either. It's pretty likely the vomiting's from the pain, but there's a chance it could be from the concussion, and that's not a chance Dom's willing to take. He'll get the docs to give Brian the full once-over when they get there. Make sure he didn't crack anything else he might end up knocking loose.
He makes sure Brian's in before closing the door and jogging around the hood to get in on his side. "Yeah, I kept it," he says once he's in, and he glances over to see Brian with his eyes closed and his head dug back against the seat. His nose his flaring, and he's got his death grip on his left arm again, but at least, Dom thinks, he isn't getting any worse. "It's our car." He and Brian built it. Sure, the others helped, but they put in some serious hours with this thing; there are a lot of memories with this car.
Some, he guesses, better than others.
Reaching across the dash, he puts a hand on Brian's knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be okay, Bri," he says softly. "You'll be okay."
He's gonna make damn sure of it.
