"Hi Daddy!"
He heard baby's voice on the phone, always cheery. It always made his heart clench. God, he loved her. "Hi, Vera. What's goin' on?"
"Well..."
"Oh, god."
"Otis is in jail."
"What?! For WHAT?"
"Well he went to a bar last night."
"What? Why?"
"I don't know. But he got into a fight- not his fault- and he was in jail over night to sober up. Figured you might wanna go pick him up."
"Yeah. Yeah I'll go down."
When he walked into the police station, he noticed Otis right away, leaning against the bars, head down against the cool steel. Probably with a pounding headache.
"What'd you get yourself into this time?"
Raising his head, Cutter drew back. Fuck, he had had his ass handed to him. "Fuck off fuckin' asshole it wasn't my fuckin' fault."
"I can see you're in a good mood."
"Can you PLEASE take this fucker home?" The guard startled Cutter. "He's right. The other idiot admitted to it being his fault. But this one..."
"Yeah, fuck you you dick licker little shit." Otis growled.
"Please take him..."
"Alright. Alright. Come on. Do I have any paperwork?"
"No. Just get him the fuck out of here."
As Cutter walked Otis out of the drunk tank, he noticed a limp and a slight wince with every intake of breath. Once they got to the car, he allowed himself to fuss over him.
"Let me see your face, darlin'-"
"Get your fuckin' hands off me I'll take care of it myself."
"Hey, don't be all pissy with me."
"Fuck you."
"HEY!"
Otis flinched back away from him, growling in pain at the sudden movement.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why were you at a BAR last night?"
"To get fucked up John why the fuck do you think?"
"You don't GO out. You don't socialize."
"Wow. Thanks."
"You got your ass handed to you on a silver platter, Otis."
"He surprised me! Came outta nowhere!"
"What happened?"
"I was talking to this girl- apparently his wife- and he had his beer balls on and started a fight with me. Fucker sucker punched me in the back of the head. Threw me down on the floor and was just punching me. I kicked him in the gut and pushed him off. He flipped me into a table and threw me into a wall and choked me. I got his eyes. Got him down and started fuckin' wailin' on him like he was on me. I won."
"Oh, did you now?"
"I wasn't the one who got tazed."
"What?!"
"Cops show up. I flip him around so he's facing them. He shits himself. I've been tazed before. Don't want to again."
"Alright. Alright. Let's get you home and patched up."
"I said I'd do it myself."
"Whatever. Get rid of that hangover and that bitchy attitude."
"I'm not hungover. I had two beers and a shot of whiskey last night before all that."
"Why're you so pissy then?!"
"I fuckin hurt John, jesus fuckin' christ!"
"Ok. Ok. Relax."
Helping Otis out of the car was a bit of a challenge, as was helping him up the stairs and into the bathroom. But once he got there, he sighed in relief.
"Alright. Take your shirt off."
He shook his head. "Can't. You're gonna have to help me."
"Ohhh so you do need my help." He smirked.
"Ribs are broken. Can't lift my arms too far."
"Ohhh hon...Here. How attached are you to this shirt?"
"Not. Why?"
Cutter easily ripped the fabric off, freeing Otis's torso, which looked like someone had drunkenly smashed purple and blue paint onto. "Oh, fuck..."
"Yeah. I know." He grunted. "Nothin' you can do about it."
"You should go to the hospital."
"No! Fuck that."
"Otis-"
"Do you know how many times I've had broken ribs? Broken bones in general? And I fixed 'em myself. Don't need to go to a fuckin' hospital and have someone pokin' and proddin' around-"
Frustrated, Cutter squeezed the back of Otis's neck hard enough to make him freeze and whimper. "Drop the fuckin' attitude, Otis. Stop being such a bastard with me."
"J-John..." He cringed. "Let go!"
"Stop being a fucker or I'LL beat the shit out of you."
Otis's eyes widened and fear crossed his features.
"You know I won't, but it got you to shut up. What the fuck is your problem?"
"Ain't got a fuckin' problem."
"Then why are you so sour?"
"I hurt John, I told you!"
"You've been hurt before and dealt with me and you haven't been this fuckin' nasty."
Otis fell silent, cringing as Cutter lightly brushed his hand along the bruises on his skin.
"You gonna let me take care of you or are you gonna be a bitch?"
"Yeah..." Otis relented, white locks obscuring his features as he hung his head.
"Alright." Cutter began to tend to his injuries, careful to be as gentle as he could. Otis had calmed- he didn't want to agitate him again. Finally, he tilted Otis's chin to make him look him in the eyes. "Let's see that handsome face there, sweetheart."
"Nn..." Otis pulled away, hissing in pain as he jarred his wounds.
"Hey, come on. You been strugglin' with somethin' and been hidin' it from me. What's going on, Otis?"
Otis paused, embarrassment in his eyes.
"You still struggling with your weight? What were you doing at a bar? You NEVER go out-"
"I'm getting too dependent."
"What?"
"I'm too dependent on you and it scares the hell out of me."
Cutter guffawed. "You're not dependent on SHIT, Otis! You-"
"I need you and it's terrifying..."
"W...What?"
Otis sighed, turning away for a moment. "I said...I need you. And it's terrifying. Because...You could break me at any given moment. You have so much power over me and I hate it...but...You...You gave me something I never thought I would have and it makes me feel so good and I'm addicted to it...And you could take it away. Any time you wanted you could end it and where would that leave me? You...You could crush my world. I've never needed anyone. I've always only relied on myself and only myself. Because I couldn't trust anyone. B-but...With you, I..." He whimpered, rubbing his temples. "John, I hurt can I just go to bed? Please?"
"Otis...I would never hurt you like that...I...I know this situation is different but I don't think I COULD leave now. Even if I wanted to. And I definitely don't want to."
"But-"
"Otis. Stop it. Stop torturing yourself with these thoughts that everything you love can be destroyed. I'm not going anywhere. Could I? Yes, in theory. But I couldn't leave you. I love you too much."
"I just..."
"You don't like being dependent because you feel weak."
Otis grumbled some reply, turning away.
"I know that's what it is. It doesn't make you weak. It just makes you human. Now will you please just enjoy your life?"
"Tryin' to. Got flipped into a fuckin' table."
"Come on, little angel. Let's get those broken wings healed."