Wilson woke with a start. What had that crash been? Taking in his surroundings, he slowly realised he was in a tent. The lantern and thermal stone either side of him the only light, casting soft shadows on the tent walls. He was back at camp. He gingerly poked at the dull ache in his side, feeling a bandage underneath the fabric. There was another crash followed by coughing and he frowned, deciding it would be best to go investigate.

"Maxwell?" He asked stepping out of the tent. "What the hell are you doing?" He was sore and tired and overall just not in the mood for the magician's antics.

"Oh, finally decided to join me in the land of the living, eh pal?" He threw a log onto the pile, getting a glare from Wilson. "My apologies, Higgsbury. I did not mean to wake you."

Wilson couldn't decide if Maxwell meant that to be sincere, not with that tone. He stared at the man. His left leg had a limp and he moved stiffly, trying to hide the discomfort in his face. It looked like he had attempted to clean himself up, though he had missed the gash at the side of his head, traces of blood still visible at his temple and ear. He should take care of that, an infection in this world would not end good at all. Maybe give the man a once over as well in case he missed something else, he was never really good at looking after himself after all.

"Higgsbury!"

"Hm, what?" He must have zoned out a bit there.

Maxwell glared at him. "I find it tedious to repeat myself, Higgsbury, surely you should know that by now." He winced at a cough. "Like I said, your backpack is still somewhere in that grassland. You can retrieve it when you go harvest the traps, Deerclops won't be coming for a few days and we had the hounds yesterday so you'll be quite alright. Provided you don't freeze or get caught in the dark," he frowned. "But I'm sure-"

"Wait," Wilson interrupted. "How did we get back? I remember the hound attack, but…" he trailed off. "That happened yesterday, you say?"

Maxwell eyed him suspiciously. "Mm, you were out for the count most of the time."

"Undoubtedly. What did I miss?" He waited for Maxwell to continue.

"You don't recall anything?" He hoped Wilson didn't remember that decidedly awkward sharing of body heat episode. If that weren't enough he just had to spend the rest of the time yapping about everything like a scared child. It was embarrassing.

Wilson shook his head.

Oh, thank goodness. His secrets were still safe. "Ah, well. I had the pleasure of dragging you through the snow. Had to spend the night in the forest. I say, you should check that you still have all your toes, it was dreadfully cold," he smirked darkly for a second, before a coughing fit overtook him.

Wilson stepped forward, hand going for Maxwell's shoulder. "Are you alright? That's a pretty bad cough."

"I'm fine," he gasped, waving Wilson away. He coughed again and stumbled, steadied by Wilson.

"I think you should go lie down, Maxwell." He steered the man towards the tent. He was a bit surprised at how easy it was to get him to comply, he must be exhausted or in considerable pain.

"That's it, careful now." It was tricky guiding him down onto the fur roll, his lanky form took up more space. "Here," he pushed a scrunched up blanket underneath Maxwell's head, propping him up. He rummaged in one of the chests by the tent entrance. "Take off your shirt, will you?" He took out the healing salve and continued searching. "You probably have a cracked rib or something with that cough of yours," he added as he found the honey poultice. "Maxwell?" He had expected the man to complain about all this, but he was uncharacteristically silent so far. Glancing over at him, he saw why; Maxwell had already fallen asleep, snoring quietly, exhaustion having got the better of him.

Wilson sighed. At least it would be easier to treat him this way. No bickering and yelling like the last time. His stomach growled suddenly. Right, he'll just finish patching up Maxwell and then he can go get some food. Maybe Maxwell will be up in a few hours, he could talk him into going with him to get his backpack and the rabbit traps. Plus, he still hadn't thanked the man for saving him.

He began treating the head wound Maxwell had forgot about. Now that he had time to think about it, he did remember something form the previous night. Maxwell had held him while droning on about something. He frowned. No, that can't be right. Must have been a dream. Though, he suppose he could pester him about it when he wakes up.

Not a very good story, but I am trying to get better. As previously said, if anyone has a request feel free to let me know (I prefer Maxwell and Wilson, and no smut). Or you know, don't send a request, whatever.

Thanks for reading though

~ That's Griminal