Crash Course

Ares holds him in the air by his throat, talons digging into his skin. He snarls, mandibles tight against his jaw as he shakes Charles, hatred filling his eyes. Blood trails down Charles' skin, and he can't breathe. He claws helplessly at the fingers wrapped around his throat, opens his mouth to try to plead with Ares, but nothing comes out aside from a strangled hiss. The turian growls and slams him against the wall, and he feels ribs snap in his back.

Over Ares' shoulder, Charles' father watches, a smug smile on his face. "I told you, you stupid faggot. He doesn't give a shit about you. Now he's tired of you and ready to move on, making you nothing but a useless fuck, a loose end to tie up."

Growling, Ares reaches up with his other hand, talons ripping right through Charles' shirt. He runs his fingers over the scars marring Charles' shoulder, flaring his mandibles as he examines the bite mark before raking his talons over the skin, cutting deep fissures through the scar. Charles' eyes burn, darkness moving in around the edges while white lights dance through his field of vision.

Ares squeezes harder, and with a near-audible pop, Charles feels the talons puncture his skin completely. Leaning in, Ares puts his mouth next to Charles' ear. "You're not even going to put up a fight? Your father's right, you are useless."

Charles jerked awake, gasping for air, hands scrambling for his throat before lashing out blindly. Fear consumed him, betrayal felt on a visceral level.

Ares was killing him.

The darkness of the room consumed him, made every shadow a new threat. He screamed, and hands wrapped around his wrists, keeping him from flailing his fists. Heart racing so hard, thinking it might explode right out of his chest, he struggled against the grip, but the long, taloned fingers only tightened around him. Ares rumbled, and Eezo whined, scratching at the door.

Fog lifting, awareness hit Charles like a ton of bricks. It was a dream, just a dream. He was safe. At home, in bed next to Ares who was most certainly not trying to kill him. Safe.

But it still felt so real, he just couldn't shake it. He stopped struggling, sucking in deep gasps of air, tears building in his eyes. Pulling away from Ares, he stumbled out of bed, nearly falling against the table. He raced for the bathroom, hip and arm smashing into the corner of the dresser on his way. He closed the door behind him and broke down into sobs, entire body shaking violently as tears poured from his eyes.

"You're not even going to put up a fight? Your father's right, you are useless."

Dropping to his knees, he lifted the toilet lid and emptied his stomach, acid burning his throat, sticking to the snot already draining from his sinuses. When at last the heaving stopped, he laid his face against the toilet seat and continued to cry. After a minute, he pulled himself to his feet and turned on the shower, climbing inside before sliding down the wall. He curled up in the corner, letting the scalding water pelt him as he hid his face against his knees. He still felt Ares' talons at his throat, digging in, cutting off his air and making his blood flow down his neck. The anger and hatred in Ares' eyes felt seared into his mind forever.

"You're not even going to put up a fight? Your father's right, you are useless."

He didn't know how long he stayed in there for, but eventually, the tears stopped, leaving him feeling hollow and numb. Staying there for a few more minutes, he turned his face to stare blankly at the shower wall, letting the cooling water wash down over the back of his head. He dragged himself to his feet and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower. After drying off, he brushed the bitter taste from his mouth and stared at himself in the mirror for a couple of minutes, making sure he had his shit under control before leaving the bathroom.

Making his way back to the bedroom, he found Ares sitting up in the dark, smoking a cigarette. He moved to the bed and sat down on the edge, his back to Ares, and lit a cigarillo. Breath shaking, fingers still trembling, he took a long, deep drag and blew it back out before saying, "Sorry, I didn't mean to hit you."

Ares hummed before exhaling. "It's fine." The hiss and crackle of his cigarette filled the silence as he took a drag followed by another exhale. "You good?"

Charles swallowed and took a heavy drag before nodding, but his voice sounded weak when he said, "Yeah. I'm good."

The only response from Ares came in the form of a rumble, but Charles couldn't tell if it sounded like he believed him or not. Charles didn't say anything else and neither did Ares. He finished his cigarillo in silence, the nicotine working to calm him a little further. After putting the cigarillo out, he checked his omni-tool and saw it was still really early in the morning. Rubbing his hands over his face, he turned on the bed and laid down, pulling the covers up over his stomach.

Stamping out one cigarette, Ares put another in his mouth. Flicking the lighter, he paused to say, "I've heard people like to talk about shit that gives them nightmares." He lit the cigarette and took a drag. "Do you?"

Charles stared at the ceiling, taking a long time to answer as he debated on whether or not he should say anything. He didn't want to burden Ares with more of his shit, but he also didn't want Ares to think he didn't trust him with the crap going on in his head. Finally, he took a deep breath and very quietly said, "You were killing me. Ripping my throat out, I think. My dad was there."

"You're not even going to put up a fight? Your father's right, you are useless."

Ares merely hummed, shifting to set the ashtray on the side table before taking another drag. He seemed at a loss as to how to respond, and Charles didn't blame him. How could anyone respond to hearing that shit?

Letting the silence linger for a minute or two, Charles decided to light another cigarillo himself. He pulled the ashtray from the table on his side of the bed over to his chest. "Doesn't matter. It was just a dream," he muttered.

"I don't know how to deal with dreams," Ares said, taking a drag before blowing it out slowly. "But I'm sure there are people out there who would say some shit about them meaning something."

Taking a heavy drag first, Charles twisted the tip of the cigarillo against the bottom of the ashtray. "Yeah … well … it doesn't. I have all kinds of fucked up dreams. Always have. They're just dreams, and if they mean anything, they just mean I'm fucked up in the head."

"You usually dream about me killing you?" Ares sounded skeptical.

Furrowing his brow, Charles glanced over at Ares before returning his gaze to the ceiling. "No, this was the first time for that. But, it's not the first stupid, fucked up, meaningless dream I've had by any means."

Ares hummed before falling silent as he smoked. His threatening snarl still rang in Charles' ears. The coppery scent of his own blood still filled his nostrils. His bondmark burned as if someone held a phantom brand against his skin. But the words … the words cut the deepest.

"You're not even going to put up a fight? Your father's right, you are useless."

Forcing a smile on his face, hoping it'd carry over into his voice, Charles said, "I mean, come on. If you wanted to kill me, I'd be dead."

Ares huffed before blowing out the rest of the smoke in his mouth. "You're right."

Taking another drag, Charles let the smoke seep out of him. "See, so it's just a stupid dream. Just my own fucked up head being an asshole."

Ares shrugged, flicking ashes off of his cigarette. "If you say so."

Charles let it sit for a little bit before asking, "You going to be able to go back to sleep?"

"I don't really need the extra sleep," Ares said.

Sighing, Charles flicked his ashes. He felt like such an asshole. Things were still getting back to where they were before between the two of them, and no matter how badly he wanted to keep his shit together to prove to Ares that he cared enough to not be a burden, he just kept fucking it up. "Yeah. Sorry, I woke you up, though."

Shrugging again, Ares took another drag. "Shit happens."

After a few more minutes of silence, Charles turned his head to look at Ares. "Ares?"

Blowing out smoke, Ares said, "Yeah?"

Licking his lips to work up the courage, Charles asked, "When you have them … are they always about the fire?"

Rumbling, Ares didn't speak for a moment, leaning over to flick his ashes before taking a long drag. "Usually. That and the time after. Had a few from some painful missions, but it's usually always the fire."

Charles thought about it for a few seconds then asked, "Do you ever have happy dreams?"

"No," Ares said.

Letting out a soft sigh, Charles said, "Me neither." He took a heavy drag from his cigarillo before tapping it against the ashtray again.

Shifting, Ares stamped out his cigarette before getting up and leaving the room. He returned a few moments later with a bottle of water and sat on the edge of the bed, drinking most of it. He butted the cold bottle against Charles and rumbled in more of a demand to drink than a question.

Charles took the bottle and sat up, putting out his cigarillo and setting the ashtray on the table before killing off the rest of the water. "Thanks."

Ares grunted in response as he hung his hands between his knees and dropped his head, apparently lost in thought.

Charles adjusted the pillows a little behind him and leaned back against them. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Ares shifted on the bed to look back at Charles. "You going to try to sleep?"

Chewing on his lip a second, Charles asked, "Will you lay back down with me, just for a little while?"

Humming, Ares stayed still for a moment before he moved, getting back into the bed and laying down. He adjusted the pillows under his head but settled soon enough, rumbling openly to Charles. Turning and tugging the pillows down, Charles scooted in closer to Ares, wrapping his arm over the turian's waist, pressing his forehead to Ares' arm.

"You didn't really answer me," Ares said, humming deep in his throat. "Were you going to try to sleep? Or just lay here?"

"Try to sleep," Charles said.

Ares was quiet and still a moment before he turned his head and rubbed the bottom of his chin on the top of Charles' head, flicking his mandibles. Charles smiled and ran his hand over Ares' stomach before sliding it up and letting it settle on his keel. He closed his eyes and tried really hard not to think about anything.

Charles paid the clerk and turned to look back at Ares, hopeful smile on his face. "Ready?"

Ares shrugged. "As I'll ever be."

Wrapping his fingers around the corner of Ares' jacket, Charles jerked his head toward the arena's entrance. "Do you want to place bets on a skycar?"

Ares hummed and looked down at Charles. "You should. I'm not going to bet on anything until I have a better grasp of the sport."

"Hmmm. Maybe a small bet." He led Ares through the doors and over to the counter where several lines were formed for betting.

A screen above the counter displayed the names of several drivers, their skycar numbers, the make and model, and any modifications made to the vehicles. Next to the driver's names were the betting odds. Charles took a second to look them over before moving to one of the lines.

He checked his account balance before finally deciding on a driver. "Basically, it's a matter of who finishes first. But there's things to consider like the driver's history, their specific car, whatever mods they might've added to it."

"So?" Ares lifted a brow plate. "Make a bet, then."

Charles snorted, moving up in the line as it progressed. "I will." He pointed at the board. "Asher Ramirez, number forty-two. He's got a solid win history, but he's made some changes to his Heliomax. Looks like he's added new mass effect boosters, but he also lowered the inertia dampeners. Still … I think he's got a pretty good chance, and his odds are within my budget." He chuckled, moving up further in the line. "You know, after the races … they have skycars you can rent out if you sign a waiver. They'll let you race them around the track."

Ares shrugged, rumbling as he watched Charles place his bet for fifty credits. "It's no fun when you have to sign a waiver."

Charles chuckled. "It's just so you won't sue them if you crash and get hurt."

Humming, Ares seemed to consider. "I'll have to check the fine print before I pay just to drive safe." He smirked. "Now, if I can wreck it, then I'll consider it."

Laughing, Charles nudged him with his elbow, directing him toward the entrance to the tracks. "I've seen crashes in these things, at those speeds, it's really not pretty."

"Pretty is boring," Ares said, rumbling as he looked over the faces of people in the crowd. "What's the point if there's no risk?"

"Mmm." Charles tugged on Ares' jacket a little and grinned. "I think you're pretty, and you're not boring."

Ares snorted. "You're blind."

"Nah, you're just stubborn." Charles leaned into him a little and winked. "And there's definitely risks involved with you, too."

Ares hummed, mandibles flicking as he looked over Charles' face, brow plates quirked in confusion but didn't say anything. Charles wished for just one second, Ares could see himself the way Charles saw him.

He just smiled and headed into the tracks. "Stand or sit?"

"Doesn't really matter. Not like I won't be able to see either way." Ares shrugged. "Take me wherever we can smoke."

Nodding, Charles led them over to a section surrounding the track where people gathered down on the lowest level, smoking and drinking while talking in clusters. The entire spectator area was enclosed with shatterproof glass and mass effect fields to act as barriers. Arena-style seats sat in rows a little further up in the same section, but Charles took them down next to the barriers to look at the skycars getting into the lineup. Ares pulled out his pack of cigarettes once they reached their spot and lit one, taking a drag.

Charles got out his own cigarillos and lit one before pointing at one of the skycars. "Fifty-one started out with an Esquiran. He switched to a Maxim S23 when they came out with them last year."

Ares hummed around his cigarette, looking at Charles from the corner of his eye. "Yeah?"

Grinning, Charles nodded and took a drag from his cigarillo. He knew Ares didn't really care, but he couldn't help himself. He loved skycars, loved talking about them, and Ares seemed content to let him babble on, so he did. "The Maxim S23 isn't well tested on the tracks, though. Fast as hell, but in close quarters … the driver's getting cocky. His record isn't even that good."

A salarian voice filled the comms, announcing the start of the races, and the skycars lifted into the air. Charles edged a little closer to the glass, bouncing on his feet a little with excitement. He thought he heard an amused rumble come from Ares, but he couldn't be sure over the sounds of engines revving. He glanced up at Ares, catching a slight flick of his mandible, and Charles grinned, leaning into him. The flag dropped and the skycars took off.

Halfway through the first lap, Charles pointed at a skycar. "Number twenty-seven's always driven an Elkoss. He changes up models every couple of years, but it's always an Elkoss. This Prism is pretty nice, but he's got the VI's processor overclocked. It's going to burn out on him, and when it does, his navigation's going to shit."

"He doesn't seem to be keeping up very well," Ares said, taking a heavy drag from his cigarette.

"No, but it's still the first lap." Charles shrugged and pointed at another skycar. "Number thirteen's taking the corners at too sharp of an angle. She's going to end up crashing. I think this is only her fourth race."

Ares rumbled but didn't say anything else so Charles fell silent for a little while, watching the skycars speed by as they started their second lap. Snorting, he shook his head as number twenty dropped out, pulling off to the sidelines for repairs in the third lap. By the seventeenth lap, two more skycars had to stop. Losing valuable time so early in the race was definitely not a good sign.

"Forty-eight's lagging," Charles said in the middle of the twenty-third lap. "I bet one of his thrusters is failing."

Ares hummed, lighting another cigarette before holding his lighter out to Charles to light his cigarillo. "So is fourteen."

"Shit, you're right." Charles tapped the glass. "That red Esquiran … I can't see its number—"

"Five," Ares said.

"Five, yeah, she's about to kick in her secondary boosters." Charles took a drag, blowing the smoke upward.

"How can you tell?" Ares glanced down at him.

Charles smirked, wrapping the fingers of his free hand around the inside of Ares' elbow. "Hitched and dropped speed for a second."

It surprised him to see numbers twenty and eighteen not only caught back up after dropping out early on but by lap fifty-four, they were pushing past a third of the skycars still on the track. Number thirty-two was still lagging behind. It wasn't much of a shock, though, the Thessian Blackwell really wasn't known for its staying power, and the driver, Faline D'Losa, spent more on the paint job than mods.

Just as the first of the skycars rounded the corner, heading back by Charles and Ares, number thirty-six took the turn too late and slammed into sixteen. The skycar spun, ramming into fifty-five and throwing it against the glass right in front of Ares and Charles, making Charles jump. Ares' hand, firm and reassuring between his shoulder blades, kept Charles from stumbling back. As far as crashes go, it wasn't so bad. Both drivers were able to keep control enough to prevent a pile-up and dropped down out of the race.

"Well, they're out for good." Charles lit another cigarillo.

Ares rumbled. "Just because of that little bump?"

"Mhmm." Charles blew out a heavy cloud of smoke. "Regulations require every skycar involved in any collision, no matter how small, to land for full diagnostics."

The next crash was spectacular. Twelve bumped fifteen and sent it spinning, smacking into twenty-four. The midnight blue Trevaline cracked against number one, sending the black and red Elkoss Ballistics right into number forty-two—the Heliomax Charles bet on—and the Heliomax spiraled out, crashing right into the ground nose first.

"Fuck me," Charles muttered with a groan.

Charles sat at the breakfast bar, watching Ares as he laid out a crude collection of medical supplies gathered from the first aid kit along with some sutures and needles he had delivered. He'd already boiled a pot of water for sterilization and set it aside to cool. He'd told Charles that he couldn't always count on there always being a first aid kit around stocked with sterilizing solutions or even having alcohol on hand, so he needed to plan on using boiled water.

"So, what am I practicing on?" Charles raised an eyebrow.

Ares hummed as he lined up the surgical scissors and forceps. "Me."

Charles squirmed in his seat a little, scrunching up his face. He really didn't like the idea of Ares cutting himself just so Charles could practice stitching him up again. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," Ares said.

"I mean … can't we just find someone else to cut up and sew back together?" Charles smirked and chuckled at his own joke. "You shouldn't have to cut yourself for this."

"You know just as well as I do that you can't go out on the street and cut someone, then expect them to sit still while you practice stitching them up." Ares picked through the scalpels before choosing one. "You should have thought about this before you nearly cut your own leg open past where it can heal unaided."

All humor drained from Charles as he stared at the instruments in silence. He really didn't want to talk about his latest set of scars or the place his mind went to the night he made those cuts. Besides, how the hell was he supposed to know cutting himself would lead to Ares thinking he needed to teach Charles how to stitch wounds? Or slice open his own hide as a part of the process?

After a minute, Charles took a deep breath and said, "Then I'll practice on myself."

"You won't be able to focus on closing yourself up properly." Ares flicked a mandible before setting his left arm on a towel folded on the breakfast bar and brought the scalpel to his hide, but Charles put his hand on top of Ares' to stop him.

"I don't need you to carry me, Ares. It's my mess, I'll practice on myself," he said when Ares met his gaze.

Ares growled and nudged Charles' hand off of him. "I'm not carrying you, I'm teaching you. Now shut up and let me do it."

Charles huffed, putting his hand back for a few seconds as he held Ares' unwavering gaze. Finally, he clenched his jaw and shook his head, letting go of Ares. "Whatever."

Ares gave Charles a last look, flicking his mandible before pulling it to his jaw and pressing the scalpel into his hide. He slowly dragged it along his forearm. Hide parting with ease, blue blood welled up to the surface as he cut open a wound about five inches long. The sight stirred awake the beast, making it snarl and rattle the bars of the cage. Charles swallowed, taking a shallow breath through his mouth, but still, the metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils. It made his cock twitch and his mouth water, even as it made him wince.

Once done, Ares tossed the scalpel onto the breakfast bar and motioned to the water. "First step." He sat back on his stool, giving Charles room to get to his arm. "Clean the wound."

Biting the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth shut, Charles moved to the pot of water, still hot but not boiling. He dipped the edge of a clean towel into it, squeezing it out before bringing it back over to Ares. "It's still bleeding too much to just clean it. Shouldn't I try to stop the bleeding first?"

Ares nodded and motioned to the first aid kit. "There are different things in there to slow bleeding. If it's a large enough wound, you can use your tool to cauterize." He snorted. "You probably won't be conscious if you're losing that much blood, so don't expect to rely on that idea."

Charles jerked his head in understanding but didn't say anything. Instead, he laid the towel over the wound and pressed down while he dug through the kit, finding a coagulant solution. He hated the whole thing. Hated Ares ever saw him cutting himself, hated Ares knew he'd done it again and cut himself deep. Hated Ares probably knew at least a part of it was because of him. He was weak. Useless.

He popped open the bottle with his free hand before gently pulling the towel away. Glancing at the wound, he swallowed and squirted the solution into the cut on Ares' forearm. He waited for a second to watch the blood flow ease up before getting more hot water to wash the wound with.

Ares hummed as Charles worked, watching and waiting for Charles to look at him for further instruction before motioning to the sutures and needle. "They're packed, but if you don't have that, hold the needle above fire and rinse the suture in the sterile water to clean it. Start with threading the needle."

Charles picked up the hermetically sealed package and pulled it opened, setting the needle back down on top of the plastic while he worked to unravel the suture threads. Getting one free, he picked the needle back up and held it to the light. It took him a couple of seconds, but he managed to get the thread through the tiny hole and pulled it through a little further before glancing at Ares.

Ares nodded with a thrum and looked at his injury. "Due to the size and your inexperience, we'll start with a simpler stitch. Start by going in here," he said, tapping the tip of his talon almost at the edge of the start of the gash, "and angle the needle so that it comes out here," he added, tapping on the opposite side of the wound.

Leaning over the bar a little to get closer, Charles took a deep breath and used his thumb and forefinger of his left hand to pinch the hide together. "How deep on a turian?"

"You'll feel a slight resistance for a second. Immediately after feeling that resistance break, sew up. Pay attention to the feeling because it's easy to miss if you aren't used to it." Ares huffed and smirked, but Charles really didn't think any of it was funny. "Just a little less pressure than when you put your name on me."

Bringing the needle to the outer edge of the wound, Charles pressed into Ares, trying to focus his attention on the feel of the needle pushing against the turian's hide and not the blood still seeping from the wound, making his beast purr. He wasn't quite prepared for the sudden shift in resistance, so the needle went in further than he intended when it popped through the hide. Hissing a little, he backtracked a hair before angling the curved needle up and over to catch the other side of the wound. It wasn't exactly straight as the needle pressed back up through Ares' hide, forcing him to push a little harder to get it to break through again, but it'd do the trick.

Ares rumbled, examining Charles' stitch before nodding. "Grab the forceps and use them to hold the opposite end of the suture filament. Loop the two ends and grip tightly, pulling the wound closed. Tie it off."

Charles did as he was told, clamping the forceps around the loose end of the thread and looped the needle back through the thread before pulling it down tight against Ares' hide. Tucking the needle around again, he formed a knot and tugged it, making sure it was secure. He glanced back up at Ares with a raised brow.

Ares purred and nodded once. "Good. Cut that off and keep going with the rest. This will keep the wound tightly closed. It'll use more and take longer, but it's the first time, so it's better to do more work to get the right result."

Despite his mood, hearing Ares' purr and simple word of praise brought a soft smile to Charles' face. "Okay," he said, picking up the scissors and cutting off the thread near the knot. He moved down the cut a little ways, putting the needle against Ares' hide before glancing up. "Here? Or closer?"

Humming, Ares flicked his mandibles as he nodded. "That's good. You can give it a little more room. The thickness of my hide makes it a bit more forgiving than yours."

Grunting in acknowledgment, Charles used his left hand to hold the two sides of the wound together again and started pressing with the needle. That time, he was a bit more prepared for the pop as the needle broke through the hide. Humming a little to himself, he angled the needle toward the opposite side and pushed it through, a little more evenly than the last one. Grabbing the forceps again, he used them to secure the loose end of the suture as he tied it off and cut the thread.

Moving on down to the next one, Charles started the third stitch. Ares watched him in silence as he worked, and it made it a bit easier for him to separate himself from the task at hand. If Ares had growled, hissed, rumbled, or winced, then Charles would be constantly reminded that Ares had caused himself pain because of him. As it was, it didn't seem to bother the turian too much.

It took a grand total of twenty-one stitches to close the gash. When he finished tying off the last stitch, Charles set the needle and forceps down and cracked his knuckles. Wetting another towel, he wiped away the dried blood from the rest of Ares' arm. Fanning the hide dry, Charles sucked in a deep breath. At least it was done with.

Tearing open a gauze pad, Charles positioned it over the wound and picked up the tape. Ares didn't tell him to, but he didn't tell him not to, either. He secured the gauze with the tape before leaning over on an impulse and kissing the gauze. Gathering up the dirty supplies, he carried them over to the sink before putting the rest of the stuff back into the first aid kit. Snapping the lid closed, he met Ares' gaze and said, "Thanks for the lesson."