He hated this.
He hated it.
Nigel utterly despised that helpless feeling that consumed him as he watched the Russian sleep in a bed that was Much too large for his small, slender figure.
He hated how hopeless and useless he felt, something he hadn't felt once like this since he was Harry Potter. He hated that someone he cared for- He would never tell Rockgut that- was suffering and he could do nothing to stop- or even ease it!
He was useless! Completely and utterly useless.
He had tried so hard to be so much more then Harry, the boy who lived, Freak. Yet what had it all been for?
When push came to shove, he could only sit at a bedside, softly cursing himself as he watched the younger thrash about in his sleep.
How old was Red anyway?
Younger then him, Nigel knew that much at least.
Too young for something like this to be happening to him.
He hated it here.
He hated the too soft bed.
He hated the white walls, the smell of chemicals in the air, but most important of all:
Red utterly loathed that look in his 'Guests' eyes.
Red knew better then anyone when someone was pitying him, no matter what else they called it.
He had no use for it nor did he appreciate it.
A few times, the Russian teen had considered just reaching over and hitting Nigel- possibly strangling him as well- yet every time his limit reached its breaking point the Russian would catch a glimpse of something else in those emerald eyes:
Anger.
Sorrow.
Self Loathing.
Pain.
And just like that the limit seemed to reset itself as it stole away the Russian's righteous anger.
It just wasn't right for the Spy to be like that.
Nigel- no matter what personality he took: Clumsy Gentleman or Serious Spy- was never supposed to have that look.
Which was why the Russian was quietly enduring the Spy's rather clingy gestures- he would very much like his arm back sometime this week- while having to force down the terrible 'food' the other kept making him.
"Having Fun?"
There was a tint of amusement in Rockgut's eyes as he glanced over the sleeping Brit snuggled up next to a glaring Russian, who looked highly uncomfortable with the other being so close.
"Go to Hell."
The Russian ordered as he avoided the American's gaze.
"Only if I can take you two with me."
Hell would be rather boring without either there to cause untold chaos and drive him insane.
"Sorry," the younger deadpanned, "They already kicked me out. So you and Nigel will just have to go alone."
With a slight tilt of his mouth being the only sign of his Amusement, Buck plopped onto the Russian's bed- bluntly overlooking the opened death threat in that lone golden eye- so that way the younger was trapped between him and the sleeping Spy.
"If that's the case, I think we'll just haunt you instead."
Annoyance flashed in that lone eye as the other gave him a hard look but chose to drop their conversation instead of pushing it like the Russian normally would have done. Instead the other looked as though he hadn't slept in days and was about to just collapse into the dreamless abyss.
While Red was a bastard and a agonizing pain to deal with on a good day it didn't mean the American wanted him dead. Prison?
Without a doubt- though he'd prefer a mental ward.
Six feet under in a box?
No. Just no.
Though considering the rate this...Thing-whatever it was; their Scientist and Doctors couldn't figure it out as the thing kept mutating every time they turned their backs- was going that's exactly where Red was heading for.
With a soft sigh, the American Agent closed his eyes and forced his body to relax as he drowned out the depressing thoughts.
Red would be fine- the Russian was too stubborn to die like this- and when he was better they would all share a laugh over it before going back to their old routine.
Everything would be fine.
Now if only he could convenience himself that, then maybe he could convenience others as well.
