This is based on a conversation I've had with frecleface, about if Quirrell ever got into an accident and how he'd worry because he has the last piece of Voldemort's soul in him. So as you can imagine, there's angst at the beginning but then lots of fluff (naturally) with Voldemort fussing over him.

It'll be in two-parts, so here's the first bit!

"I already told you, I didn't have any meetings." Quirrell spoke into his phone as he left the school, waving goodbye to Devin with his free hand. "And listen, listen, I'm literally getting in the car right now. I can hold the phone out so you can hear the door slam if you really want."

"Alright, alright, I was just double-checking," Voldemort replied with a small laugh. "Sweet. Just wanted to let you know, I found a bottle of wine, so would you like some when you're home?"

"What type is it?" Quirrell asked, fastening his seatbelt with one hand.

"Red."

"Then yeah, pour me a glass of that and I'll be home in fifteen minutes."

"Got it. Oh, we also might need some more milk, so –"

"So I'll pick some up on the way back?" Quirrell finished with a small sigh. "Fine, but you'll owe me."

"Deal. Think of how I can repay you, and I'll do it. Alright, see you soon."

Quirrell rolled his eyes as he disconnected the call, but he couldn't help but smile a little. He started the car, reversing out of his parking space, and glanced at his watch. Another late night at work. At least it was nearly time for his holiday.

He turned on the radio, messing around with the different stations until he settled on a song he liked, and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel to the tune as he drove. He was soon near the highway, and indicated to make a right turn to drive onto it, when something slammed into the car and glass shattered everywhere.

Quirrell's body fell forwards, and he smacked his face into the steering wheel, which already had blood on it, and he blinked in surprise, trying to figure out what the hell had happened, swallowing a few times to get his voice to work. "Hey…" He began with a bewildered choke. "Wass…"

He dimly heard the sound of another car reversing – the one which had presumably hit into his – and his eyes widened. The bastard wasn't even going to stick around to help him or the damage done to the car? Oh, fuck, his car, his baby which he'd spent so much time taking care of…

"Mmmph." He grunted, trying to unfasten his seatbelt, but the crash had evidently been too severe because he had no idea where it was or if he was still upright or if he'd broken anything. "Hey! Y'gotta come back, my insurance'ss might not cover the stuff you did!"

The silence around him seemed to be choking him. Help had to be coming, though. The person who'd crashed into him must have called an ambulance, that's why they'd split in such a hurry. Then they could settle the cost for his car. His beautiful blue car which was the envy of all the other teachers, and the one which Wang Mu loved to ride in –

"Wang!" He called out-loud, once again attempting to find his seatbelt. She'd be so scared. What if she had actually been in the car? What would have happened?

His breathing grew shallower, and he closed his eyes as the fear washed over him like ice cold water. He willed himself to stay awake, but as he forced his eyes open he noticed all the blood on the steering wheel again. Blood. A lot of it. He really wasn't good with blood…

"Sir?"

A flashlight was being shone into the car, and he squinted in pain as it hit his face. "Mmph, stop…"

"Sir, we're going to get you out of the car, alright? Don't move, you could have broken bones. Can you tell me your name?"

"Qwwurl. I have a baby."

"In the car?"

"Noo, no." He attempted, before his eyes widened. "Shit, I hope not! Is my baby here?"

The flashlight was shone at the back seats, and the woman spoke into her radio. "No, it's just you, sir. We'll get you out, don't worry."

"There'ss blood here." He tried to gesture but his arms felt so heavy.

"Yes, you've got a bit of a cut on your forehead, but the hospital will get that fixed up for you. The ambulance is ready."

"Oh no…" He slurred, closing his eyes again, and managed to say: "My husband wanted milk" before he passed out.

XxX

"Phooone, Papa!" Wang Mu called, playing with her dolls on the living room floor.

"I hear it, I hear it, and it better be your Daddy apologising because he promised he wasn't going to work late…" Voldemort picked up the phone and accepted the call. "Alright, start grovelling."

"Is this Joe Quirrell?"

"Uh." Voldemort frowned at hearing a woman's voice on the other end of the line, and even more so at her using his fake name (though it was now legally his on all the documents). "Yeah. Why?"

"I'm afraid your husband has been in a car accident. We're not sure exactly who crashed into him, and he can't give us any clear answers, so –"

"A what? A car accident?" Voldemort gripped onto the phone, his breath hitching in his throat. "Where? Where is he? Is he alright?"

The calm woman's voice at the other end of the phone did nothing to reassure him. "Come to the hospital, sir. He has a broken leg and a cut which has been stitched, but apart from that he's ok. Just in a deep state of shock now."

"But he's not seriously hurt?"

"No. It was a clean break, and we've put it in a cast, but it will be painful for him. The shock will be preventing some of his pain, though, so there's that. Can you come down?"

"Of course, yeah, of course." Voldemort bit his lip. "I'll be 20 minutes." He hung up and turned to look at his Wang Mu, who had stopped playing with her toys and was obviously scared.

"What's wrong with Daddy?" She whispered.

Voldemort gently lifted her up, holding her against his chest. "He's just hurt his leg, kid, so I gotta go and pick him up. You wanna sleep over at the neighbours'?"

Her face suddenly lit up. "Helen? Yeah!"

"Great. Ok, I'll pack you an overnight bag then. You wanna help?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded, then frowned again. "Daddy will be ok, right Papa?"

"Cross my heart." He reassured her as he began to walk up the stairs. "He's a tough one, y'know. He'll be fine. I promise."

"'Kay," She said sleepily, snuggling against him. "Will Helen give me hot chocolate?"

"I'm sure she will, if you ask nicely." Voldemort smiled, placing her down on her bed and turning to grab a backpack that was lying on top of her drawers. "Ok, so why don't you put some clothes in here while I go look out your toothbrush and stuff, yeah?"

"Ok, Papa." Wang Mu efficiently hopped off the bed. "When I come home tomorrow will Daddy's leg be better?"

"Probably not, Wang. I'll have to take a look at it and see if any potions or whatever will help. You'll still be able to see him though. He's gonna be ok." He gave her another smile. "He just won't be able to run after you for a few weeks."

"I'll be really, really good, then." She told him solemnly and he laughed.

"I know, kid, I know. You always are. I'll be back in just a sec." He turned and went into the bathroom, looking out her toothbrush and toothpaste as well as various other things like a decent hairbrush, then returned to find Wang Mu placing some mismatched clothes on her bed.

"I'm done, Papa."

"Atta girl. Got everything?" He put the clothes into the bag, making sure she had everything she would need, and then placed the bathroom items into its side pocket. "Alright, let's go," he slung the bag over his shoulder and took Wang Mu's little hand, leading her back down the stairs and out the door, locking it behind him. Hesitating a little at the idea of his kid staying with a couple of seriously overly enthusiastic muggles, but realising he had no other choice and he didn't want Wang growing up with the same resentment towards them he had as a kid, he knocked on the neighbours door.

Helen Jones immediately opened the door, smiling her typical eager smile. "Why, hello, you two! Can I help?"

"Um, yeah." Voldemort cleared his throat. "I'm sorry this is such short notice, but my husband's been in an accident, and I gotta go pick him up. I don't suppose you could have Wang over for just the night?"

"Oh, goodness! Is he alright?"

"From what I know, it's not too serious. But I wanna get there as soon as possible, so..." He shifted slightly. "Is it ok?"

"Of course, of course, absolutely. Come on in, Wang Mu, come right in."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it." Voldemort gave a small smile, before kneeling down to kiss Wang Mu's forehead and squeeze her shoulders. "Be good. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Would you like me to bring her over in the morning?" Helen asked.

"Really? Thanks. That'd be great."

"No problem, no problem. I do hope Quirinus is ok. Send him our love, will you?"

"Uh. Sure. Whatever." Voldemort forced another smile, handing her over the backpack. "Everything she needs should be in there. Thanks again. Alright, Wang, see you soon."

"Bye, Papa!" She hugged his legs and he ruffled her hair before she eagerly went into Helen's house, giving him a little wave. He waved back, gave his neighbour another nod of thanks, and hurriedly turned away, waiting to Apparate once he was far away enough.

"Holy shit, please be ok, please be ok," He muttered to himself as his pace quickened. "I will literally do anything, just please be ok, Quirrell, please." With a deep breath, he Apparated, arriving in the local hospital car park. Luckily enough it was dark and pretty quiet, so he managed to not raise any attention and immediately resumed walking, ignoring the slight nausea he was starting to feel. "You better be alright, Quirrell." He huffed, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. He neared the front desk and the receptionist glanced up, visibly flinching at his appearance.

"Hi. Uh, my husband's been in a car accident. Quirinus Quirrell?" He managed to say through his strained breathing.

"Fourth floor. Ward 5." Was all she had to say before she returned to looking at her paperwork.

Voldemort glowered at her, muttering a "thanks" under his breath, as he turned and followed her directions. He took the elevator up to the fourth floor, and then aimed for ward 5. Ok, nearly there...

Quirrell was propped up on a hospital bed, his right leg in a plaster cast and a nasty looking cut in his forehead which had been stitched up. He was also wrapped in a shock blanket and even from this distance, Voldemort could see he was shaking terribly. He hurried over and gently took one of Quirrell's hands. "Well." He said as Quirrell turned his head in surprise, so relieved that he was alright for the most part. "How are you doing this evening?"

Quirrell bit his lip and when he spoke, his voice was a whisper. "I broke the car."

"Never mind the damn car! Are you alright?"

Quirrell shook his head weakly. "No."

"Your leg? When we're home I'll take a look at it, yeah? Magic will get that fixed soon enough."

"It's - it's not the leg, but that does hurt..."

Voldemort frowned, giving his hand a light squeeze. "Listen, hon, I'm gonna get you home and then we can talk properly and I'll look after you, ok?"

Without warning, Quirrell burst into tears, digging his nails into Voldemort's palm. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, hey!" Voldemort said, alarmed, "You've done nothing wrong! The car can be fixed up easily, you know that!"

Quirrell continued to cry and shake and didn't let go of Voldemort's hand. "You don't u-u-understand!"

"You're right," Voldemort admitted, "I don't. Because you have nothing at all to be sorry for. It's the shock, dude, that's all. Come on, let's get you home."

"I do have something to be sorry for! Don't you get it?" He took a deep breath before wailing, "The milk!"

"The – what?"

"Milk! I had to get – 'cause we're out of – and there's no milk, we fucking need milk."

"No, I mean we do, but that's really not a problem at all. I can get some whenever. Is that what's making you cry so much?" Voldemort stroked some of Quirrell's hair back, trying to help him out. "'Cause really, it's not a big deal. I'll go shopping tomorrow."

Quirrell wiped at his eyes, before sighing. "It's not actually the milk I'm upset about."

"No, I figured as much." Voldemort nodded, and gave his free hand a squeeze.

"But you still don't get it, you're such an idiot."

"Why am I an idiot?" He asked calmly, hoping it'd rub off on Quirrell.

"Because – you could've – died!" And with that, Quirrell broke down again in large, shuddering sobs.

Voldemort's eyes widened and he shook his head rapidly. "What? Jeez, don't even think about that, man! That's not even important right now at all! Shit, is that's what's making you cry like this?" He continued to stroke his hair while his other hand kept a firm hold on Quirrell's, and he murmured soft encouragements in his ear. "C'mon now, it's all ok...You're safe, you're alright..."

"I could've killed you!" Quirrell sobbed, beginning to desperately pant as he lost control of his breathing. Voldemort instantly rubbed his back soothingly to help him out. "I could've had us both killed!"

"But you didn't. You're gonna be ok." Voldemort assured him. "And I'm here. Everything's alright. Wang Mu's at the neighbour's house, so I'm taking you home and I'm gonna take care of you. Whatever you need, I'll do it."

"You shouldn't. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything."

"Hey! Don't say that again." Voldemort scolded. "I'm going to get a nurse to give me a hand getting you outside, then we'll Apparate back, got it?" He wiped away Quirrell's tears with his free hand as best as he could. "Please. Please don't say those sort of things, because you know as well as I do that they're not true."

Quirrell didn't respond except for a few more rough sobs. Voldemort helplessly glanced over to find a nurse hurriedly approach them.

"There, come on now," She said gently, "It's not all bad! It'll be fixed up in no time." She looked at Voldemort and murmured. "Shock. He's been like this on and off ever since we got him in the ambulance. We've given him two doses of ibuprofen for his pain, but..."

"He will be ok, right? When will the shock wear off?"

"It's hard to say. He might need to take some time off from everything. Does he have a job?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's a schoolteacher. That's where he was tonight, he was coming home when…"

"The school will have to know, obviously. It might be a good idea for him to go for a few meetings with a therapist if he can't handle getting back in a car for a while. It's perfectly natural, and the overall shock shouldn't last drastically long. It all depends."

"He already has a therapist. I could call her." Voldemort replied, seeing as Quirrell wasn't even speaking. In fact, he doubted Quirrell was even listening anymore; he had returned to shivering with his eyes screwed shut, a few shaky sobs escaping now and then. "Listen, I'll deal with all of this, but can I take him home now?"

"There are a few things we need to sort out - prescriptions, crutches, things like that. We'll be as quick as we can and then, of course, you can take him home. We'll call you in around four to six weeks for take a look and see if the plaster can be taken off. Would you like to come with me so we can sort things out, and get your phone number and address?"

"Wait, I mean…" Voldemort rubbed his forehead with an exasperated sigh. "Listen, I get that all of this stuff is important, but can't it wait until tomorrow or something?"

"He'll need his painkillers tonight. I'm sorry, but it's standard protocol to –"

"I really don't wanna leave him."

"He's in good hands, I assure you. We won't take long."

Voldemort sighed again and squeezed Quirrell's hand. "Hey, man, I'll be back in just a few minutes, ok?"

Quirrell's eyes shot open. "Where're you going?" He whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry, I said I was sorry -"

"Ssh, relax, it's alright. I gotta make sure it's all ok for me to take you home, that's all. I'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah? You promise?"

"Course I do!" He kissed his hand and gave him a smile. "Don't worry. It's all good."
He reluctantly let go of his hand and turned away, the nurse beside him, hating himself.

"You handled that remarkably well." The nurse informed him as they walked and he shrugged, glancing back over his shoulder to check on him.

"Yeah. I guess." There was no point in telling her he'd gotten used to Quirrell's panic attacks over the years. "But he just needs to get home, y'know?" He then added, not even holding back his irritation towards her as she led him inside another room.

God. This better not take him long.

XxX

"Well, here we are," Voldemort stated lamely as he opened the house door, his other arm wrapped around Quirrell's waist. The man hesitantly gripped onto his crutches and slowly made his way inside, heading for the couch.

He sat himself down, placing the crutches on the floor, before glancing up at Voldemort nervously.

"You want anything? Tea? Hot chocolate?"

Quirrell shook his head weakly, then bit his lip. "We have no milk."

"Oh. Right. 'Course."

"But that's ok, I don't want anything, except - can you hold me?"

Voldemort blinked. "Hold you? Sure. Sure, of course." He gave his husband a smile and sat down next to him, carefully wrapping his arms around Quirrell and holding him to his chest. In a matter of moments Quirrell was clinging onto him tightly, crying once more.

"I'm so stupid! I'm sorry!"

"Quirrell, I'm not mad at you. The thought never crossed my mind. I swear." Voldemort said desperately. "This wasn't your fault, a car hit you. It could've happened to anybody."

"But I have a – a piece of your soul in me, your last piece! If….if I'd…." He sniffed, pulling back slightly to look at him. "If you want, you can...you can just lock me up somewhere. Then you'll be safe. Then I won't do anything like this ever again."

"Quirrell!" Voldemort retorted in disbelief, before realising it must be the shock talking. He softened his tone, stroking his back. "Don't be an idiot, Squirrel. What am I gonna do, lock you in the basement? I think I'd miss you within twenty minutes. Besides, it's a ridiculous –"

"B-but if it keeps you safe -"

"Enough." Voldemort said firmly. "I mean it. You don't need to do this to yourself."

"But -"

"Nope. No more suggestions." He placed a finger on Quirrell's lips. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for you and I love you. No matter what. You've been in an accident and I'm worried for you and I want to help you out as best as I can. That's all there is to it."

"I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry."

"You don't have to be. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"You wouldn't be saying that if...if..."

"Uh, I wouldn't be saying anything." Voldemort pointed out. "I'd hardly be in a position to be mad at you." This evidently was the wrong thing to say, as Quirrell let out a wail, breaking down completely. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry! That was really dumb of me. Quirrell, Quirrell -" He held him close, all but rocking him in his arms as he buried his face in Quirrell's hair. His tears were dampening his shirt and he was sobbing as if he'd never stop.

Eventually, when it seemed Quirrell had practically run out of tears and was just gasping for breath and shaking, Voldemort deemed it safe to talk again. "Hey, love," He murmured, kissing the top of Quirrell's head. "You wanna go up to bed? You must be exhausted."

Quirrell bit his lip and gave a small nod before Voldemort released his hold of him and bent down to retrieve his crutches. "I'll Apparate us up, but might as well take these for the morning."

"W-Wang Mu's ok, r-ri-ight?" Quirrell whispered as Voldemort took his hand with his free one, gently helping him up.

"She's absolutely fine. The muggle's gonna drop her round tomorrow morning. She's in good hands over there."

Quirrell gave a shaky sigh of relief and in a blink they were in their bedroom. Voldemort lifted him up and placed him onto the bed as if he weighed nothing, giving his forehead a kiss. Quirrell grabbed the back of his head, much to Voldemort's surprise, and pulled him in to do it properly, his lips desperately pressing against Voldemort's, needing to feel him.

Voldemort responded as gently as he could, a little unsure of how to act in this sort of situation. Quirrell tightened his grip on the back of his head, deepening it.

"Uh," Voldemort managed to gasp out once they'd parted. "You ok?"

Quirrell frowned. "What do you mean? Do you...do you not want to kiss me? Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not, no! It's just -"

"I just need you right now, so much. Because you're here and alive and I - I -"

"And you need to be reassured, yeah, I understand." Voldemort finished for him, stroking his cheek. "But maybe in other ways than a make-out session. You're still a little out of it."

Quirrell didn't reply for a while, but then he giggled weakly. "You're always right. I hate you…"

Voldemort smiled back, nuzzling Quirrell's nose. "Love you too. I'll make you some pain relief potion or something tomorrow. That'll help more than muggle stuff."

"Thank you." Quirrell said sincerely. "You...You're really not mad?"

"I swear to you I'm not." Voldemort slowly began to kiss every inch of Quirrell's face, from his forehead to his nose, both cheeks, then his lips. "How could I be mad at such a perfect and wonderful man like you, huh?"

"Because I –"
" - as I was saying," Voldemort firmly cut across him as he moved away to look out Quirrell's pyjamas, "Not only am I lucky enough to merely know this man, I'm also fucking married to him. So how the hell could I get angry at him being in an accident? To summarise: I couldn't. Now put these on because we're going to cuddle. Got it?"

Quirrell nodded quickly, accepting the pyjamas and pulling them on while Voldemort neatly folded up his clothes and put them away. "Normally I'd prefer to hug you without your shirt on," Voldemort said as he took off his own sweater, "but you're still shivering and need to be warmed up in the best way possible, so pyjama shirt it is."

"Mm…" Quirrell murmured, struggling to get his pants on for a while with the bulky cast. "How am I gonna teach with this stupid thing?"

"You're gonna take some time off." Voldemort told him, ultimately having to help him out. "There you go, all sorted."

Quirrell smiled as he received a kiss on the forehead, and watched Voldemort get ready for bed through half-closed eyes as he settled down. Voldemort slipped in beside him and gently wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, although it was obvious he was trying to be careful and not hurt his partner. Without another word, he resumed softly kissing Quirrell's face, making him giggle. "I love you. I love you so much. Please don't ever think that I don't or that I think you're a burden whenever you're in danger."

Quirrell's eyes welled up again and he sniffled, burying his face in Voldemort's shoulder. Voldemort soothingly rubbed his back, continuing to murmur in his ear. "You are wonderful, you hear me? I am so in love with you that it's actually crazy. I'm not angry at you, but I am worried for you. Worried about the way you're feeling and the pain you must be in. So not angry, never angry. Got it?"

Quirrell murmured into his shoulder, seemingly in acceptance, and Voldemort nuzzled his face in his soft hair. "That's my man. Now let's try and catch some sleep, yeah?"

Quirrell murmured again and Voldemort smiled. "I know, I'll try not to move around so much. If you can't sleep and it hurts too bad, wake me up, alright?" He paused, waiting for a response, but Quirrell was already fast asleep in his arms.

Tune in for part 2, hopefully coming when I finish my senior year of high school (which is so soon what the fuck?)