Hook hasn't felt this angry in a long time. On top of that, people keep touching him and yeah, he knows they're trying to help, but he just wants space, to find his hoodie, bury himself inside of its warmth and regroup without a bunch of eyes on him. He's aching and he's sure he's going to be a mess of bruises soon, but all he wants is to leave. Keeping his head down, he continues down the hall, brushing off any hands that try to stop him. Medical, referees, whoever, he doesn't care, he just wants gone.

But then someone steps in front of him and won't move, shifting to match him every time he tries to get around them, and Hook grits his teeth, about to push them out of his way with more force when fingers link around his wrists and sound finally rushes back in, breaks through the muddled mess his brain is. "Hook, it's me. Stop."

He exhales, flexing his wrists helplessly. "Orange."

"Yeah," Orange mumbles. "Come on."

"I can't," he says faintly, but Orange doesn't let him go.

"You need to get looked at by medical," he says. "We can leave right after, I promise, but-"

"Orange-"

"Hook. Trust me. Do you trust me?"

Hook exhales. Nods.

"Then just... let me, alright?" Orange lets his touch ease down, slipping his hands into Hook's and squeezing his fingers gently. "Please?"

Hook nods, keeping his head down, hair blocking his vision as Orange guides him through the halls. Medical thankfully is perfunctory, gives him ice, checks his head and neck, back and arm, then tells Orange to keep an eye on him and notify them if anything changes. After they both agree to this, they leave.

"You should shower," Orange says, leading him now to the locker room. It's thankfully empty, and Hook exhales shakily as he follows Orange's advice, the water stinging over his sensitive skin as he stands under it, gasping sharply. Soaping up sucks, his adrenaline crashing hard and leaving him shaky as pain stings through him.

When he gets out, he has to balance with a hand on the wall, squinting towards a pile of clothes Orange had apparently brought in for him. He exhales and towels off as quickly as he can, gritting his teeth when he has to move his arm, or turn in a certain direction. "Fuck," he breathes through the pain, finally getting his hoodie on and burying himself in its familiar warmth. Dressing the rest of the way quickly, he rejoins Orange, relieved when he immediately stands up from the bench he'd been slouched against.

"Ready to go?"

Hook nods as Orange rests a hand on his back carefully.

"Then let's go." They walk side by side to the parking lot and Hook breathes in deeply, relieved to be away from people, from noise, from everything. Orange remains quiet on the drive to the hotel, pocketing his keys and turning towards Hook once they arrive and are parked. "You alright?"

"Yeah, sure," Hook mumbles, undoing his seatbelt and moving to get out of the car. But he's stopped when Orange reaches out and touches his hand, Hook turning to look at him through the small gap in his hood.

"Will you let me take care of you tonight?"

Hook's eyes widen a little bit as he searches the unusually solemn look on Orange's face, strangely bare and vulnerable without the usual sunglasses to block his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Orange hums, squeezing his hand. Ordinarily Hook would welcome the silence, but the look on Orange's face leaves him uncertain.

Hook doesn't remember a lot about the trip up to their hotel room, his body aching and mind racing, just blinks a couple of times and they've gone from the car to standing next to the bed. Hook frowns as Orange leaves the room for a minute, coming back with a bucket of ice. He winces at the thought of having to ice up when the weather's already been so shitty and cold, but he knows it's necessary so he keeps those thoughts to himself... until Orange puts the ice in the freezer and turns back to him, that strange look still on his face.

"What is it?" Hook asks, digging his hands into his hoodie pocket. He's never been this thrown off-kilter by Orange, usually able to read him so much easier than this. But he's not thinking straight, too much pain and too many emotions to really filter through and figure out anyone else, much less himself right now.

"May I?" Orange asks, walking up to Hook and lightly resting a hand on his hip. Hook blinks at him, then nods, and Orange eases his fingers lower, sliding Hook's pants down until they pool on the floor. Supporting Hook while he steps out of them, Orange tugs Hook's hoodie up over his head, leaving his hair even more of a mess than usual. Brushing it out of his eyes, Orange smiles at him. "Go lay down," he says quietly, picking Hook's pants up and laying his clothes on a chair by the desk in the corner of the room.

When he turns around, he swallows, Hook sprawled out on the bed, eyes locked on him. In the dim lighting, his muscles look more defined, but so do the bruises and scrapes from the match. He feels a pang of empathy and walks over to the bed, helping him take his sneakers off and nudging them under the bed so they won't be tripped over during the night, before resting his hand lightly on Hook's foot. "How are you feeling?"

Hook works over his answer for a minute, finally settling on, "Not great."

Orange nods, his eyes trailing up and down Hook's body thoughtfully, mapping out the various bruises and welts already showing themselves.

"Sorry," Hook mumbles, eyes heavy with exhaustion as he watches Orange. "I don't think I can..."

Orange looks up and stares at him, a flash of shame and guilt digging through his veins at getting caught like that before he can explain what he's thinking. "I'm not expecting anything form you," he says. "But I am wondering something."

Hook exhales, his foot twitching under Orange's hand. "What?"

"Can you lay there? Let me try to make you feel better?"

Hook frowns. "I... what do you mean?"

Orange continues to examine him, mulling over something. "Can I show you?" he finally offers and Hook nods warily.

"Alright," he breathes out. Watches closely as Orange shrugs out of his jacket, toes his own shoes off, and shimmies lazily out of his jeans. His clothes end up mixed up with Hook's on the chair and something about that sticks with Hook as Orange lays down next to him on the bed, searching his face, fingers gently trailing down his chest.

"If anything feels uncomfortable or hurts, you'll tell me. Right?" Orange stares into Hook's eyes, and Hook nods. "Alright," he murmurs. He shifts, leaning in close and pressing a kiss to Hook's shoulder, tracing his tattoos with his fingers. Hook exhales shakily and Orange looks up for a moment before pressing more kisses to his skin, trailing down his chest, around his ribs, down to his abs, back up towards his throat. He shifts over, straddles Hook, careful not to put too much weight on his thighs as he finds a more comfortable position to continue focusing his affections over Hook's body.

Hook closes his eyes and tries to enjoy the sensations, Orange's warmth against his legs, the soft pressure of his lips, the tickling sensation of his fingers. His hand eases up and tangles in Orange's hair, lightly scratching against his scalp. Orange hums, continuing to kiss and touch, feeling as Hook's breathing grows a little more raspier at every brush of his hands, his skin flushing a bit warmer with each kiss. Orange isn't sure if it'll work, between the brutality Hook has endured from Joe, and the emotional maelstrom he's been in since passing out in the Coquina, but he's pressed close enough to finally feel it when Hook's body tilts to aroused.

"Come on," Hook mumbles, shifting under Orange's weight. "Come on." He's impatient, restless, needing Orange to do something more than these little teases right now, but Orange is unmoved by his frustration, continuing to lightly graze his knuckles over Hook's sternum, watching how his muscles twitch and react. "What did I ever do to you?"

Orange finally lifts his eyes to look up at Hook's. "Who said you did anything?" He continues tracing gentle shapes against Hook's ribs. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

"Figured what out?" Hook asks through gritted teeth, fingernails digging into his own palms as he strains not to completely lose it.

Orange searches his face, then sighs. "Hook, you think you want something rough and fast right now, to distract you from what's wrong. That's not what this is about."

Hook's eyes flash, and he almost snarls. "Whatever, just move," he says, pressing his heels around Orange's hips and trying to get him to do something.

"No," Orange says, leaning in to press a kiss against Hook's abs. "We're doing this at my speed, my way."

Hook's so tense, he's thrumming under Orange's touch. "Why?"

"Because," Orange says patiently, pressing another kiss to Hook's ribs. "That isn't really what you want, and I think I have some idea about what you need right now." He stares intently into Hook's eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Hook groans, closing his eyes. Exhaling slowly. None of the tension really leaves him, but he eventually nods. "Yeah," he mumbles. "You know I do."

"Then let me take care of you," Orange tells him.

Hook shivers, not sure why Orange keeps belaboring this point. "Yeah, alright," he says, quiet. Plaintive.

"Yeah?" Orange ghosts another touch down Hook's side and watches as he trembles, enthralled by the feel of it- how Hook's body responds to the lightest brush of his fingertips.

"Ye- shit. Yeah," he huffs out, digging his toes into the bed, trying to ground himself as his desperation grows. "Please, just-"

Orange kisses up his stomach back to his chest, hovering between his pecs. "Relax," he murmurs. "We have time. Plenty of time. Just breathe."

Hook tries to listen, Orange can tell he is, especially as he kisses lazily around Hook's body, feeling the hitch in his breathing every time Orange lingers. "You're ok," he murmurs against his skin. "I'll take care of you."

Hook's eyes are squeezed shut when Orange stares up at him, and he smooths his hand down Hook's stomach to rest against his hip. Finally Hook's eyes open and they stare at each other. "Please," he mumbles, eyes deep and dark and yearning as Orange teases him, tracing shapes lazily against his thigh.

Orange leans up and kisses him, feeling as Hook's hands rest against his shoulders, exhaling softly. Orange's fingers curl around him abruptly and Hook groans into his mouth, hips rolling sharply at the unexpected contact. Orange immediately stops and presses a hand gently to his chest, staring down at him. "You're supposed to lay still," he tells him.

Hook looks impatient and frustrated. "Orange, come on-"

"I'm not letting you hurt yourself further," he says. "Just rest and let me take care of you. Please."

Hook sighs. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he says, hands clenching into a fist so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

Orange continues to stroke him steadily, watching as some of the tension around his mouth falters and he gives in, groans. "It'll be ok," he murmurs, leaning in close and nuzzling against Hook's jaw, kissing his collar. Hook exhales and curls his toes restlessly against Orange's calves as his hand speeds up, finds a better rhythm.

"Ah god," he breathes out, reaching up and digging his fingers in his hair, tugging helplessly as he strains to listen to Orange, trying to not thrust up, to not completely fall apart so quickly.

Orange frowns, reluctantly slowing his movements and reaching up with his free hand, cupping Hook's fingers. "Let go," he says. When Hook shoots him a confused look, Orange shakes his head. "No more pain tonight. Come on." Hook groans but allows Orange to maneuver his hand away, pressing it against one of the blankets. "If you need to grip something, do it to this." He curls his hands around Hook's and then around the blanket, squeezing as tightly as he dares. "Alright?"

"Fine," Hook forces out through gritted teeth, pressing against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. He's squinting at the dull shade of white overhead when Orange's hand disappears with no warning. "Hey-" His protests choke off in a strained gasp before he can glance down to see what's happening. Wet heat surrounds him, his entire body suddenly flushed in sharp, overwhelming desire as he curls his fingers more desperately around the blanket, Orange lazily trailing his tongue over Hook until he moans, certain that he's going to tear straight through the blanket at this rate. "O- Orange-"

"Mm hmm," Orange hums, feeling as the vibrations cause Hook's body to tense up even more under him, sharp gasps turning into mumbled pleas as Orange trails warm fingers over his thigh, sucking lazily at him until Hook feels like he's about to thrum out of his own skin under Orange's ministrations.

"I can't- I-" Hook shakes his head, panting roughly, and Orange glances up at him out of his peripheral. He's flushed, sweating, and although it's clear everything Orange is doing is having the desired effect, it's not enough. Not with everything Hook's been through tonight- this entire past week, really. So Orange touches Hook's inner thigh, watches his face as he continues to mouth at him. He feels his way around, stroking and exploring until he finds what he's looking for- Hook tenses sharply, his desperate panting cutting off abruptly as he arches up, heels digging into the back of Orange's legs.

Orange counts the seconds as Hook shatters apart, as the trembling tension in his muscles eases little by little. Orange carefully works him through it until he sinks back into the sheets with a muffled moan, his fingers losing their death grip on the sheets. "There you go," Orange murmurs, kissing Hook's stomach once more before pulling away. He glances up at Hook quickly, then ducks into the bathroom for a moment. He returns with a couple of washcloths and begins filling them with ice from the fridge, bringing it over to him.

Hook's eyes are only just fluttering open, awareness slowly creeping back to him, and he exhales as he looks up at Orange. "Damn," he mumbles, sounding absolutely wrecked, still lost in the aftershocks of his climax.

Orange chuckles and helps him sit up, holding a bottle of water to his lips until he starts to drink from it.

Hook pulls away after a bit and reaches out for Orange. "What about-?"

"No, no," Orange says, squeezing his hands. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

"But..." Hook looks far from pleased. "That's not right-"

"We're not a transactional relationship like that, Hook," Orange tells him. "You've had a long enough night, and it looks like you could fall asleep at any minute. Besides, tonight was about you." Hook still doesn't look convinced, or necessarily pleased, so Orange shrugs. "You weren't angry when I fell asleep on you after retaining the international title against Mox a few weeks back. I'm not angry at you tonight. That's how relationships are supposed to work. Just let it go. Ok?"

Hook sighs. "Ok," he mumbles, allowing Orange to help him drink some more of the water.

It's after Orange puts the bottle down that he grows somber, not liking what's going to come next. "Sorry," he says, holding up the ice packs as Hook stares at them, his lips twisting in displeasure. "I hate to do it, but we gotta." He presses the haphazard attempt at icepacks against Hook's arm, and between his shoulderblades, listening as Hook hisses and tries to flinch away from the discomfort. "Sorry, sorry. You need them." He guides Hook to lay back down, holding the ice against the worst of the swelling on his upper back, while tucking the sheets and blankets around him, pinning the other pack against his arm.

Hook shivers and grimaces. "This- this sucks," he finally manages, eyes squinted shut.

"I know," Orange murmurs. "Give it twenty minutes. It'll help."

Hook huffs and turns his head away, shivering harder. Orange watches the clock until the twenty minutes have passed, then moves the blankets away to get to the ice. Hook relaxes as soon as the packs are gone, and Orange has tucked him back in snugly under the blankets. "Thanks," he mumbles, eyes already fluttering shut.

"I'll be back in a second." Orange drops the soggy washcloths in the bathroom sink before returning to the bed and slipping in next to Hook, wrapping an arm around him and hugging him close, relieved that he's already shivering a lot less than he was. He lays there for a few moments, watching as Hook hovers on the brink of sleep. He doesn't want to disrupt him, but he needs to know. "Hook?" he murmurs.

"Hm?" Hook blinks sluggishly, glancing up at him. "What?"

Orange rubs soothingly up and down his arm before clearing his throat. "Do you regret it?"

Hook lays there for a minute, then exhales. "Challenging Joe?"

"Yeah."

"No." The answer is instant, certain. Hook sighs. "I'm disappointed, and I'm angry, but..." He turns and presses tighter against Orange. "I'm not giving up. I'll earn my way to other opportunities, and in the meanwhile I'll prepare, I'll get stronger, more experienced, and it... it won't end like it did tonight."

Orange smiles. Presses a kiss to the top of Hook's head. "Absolutely," he murmurs, glad that Hook hasn't lost any of his determination or fire. "And then that night will be a celebration version of this."

"Damn right," Hook manages, voice drifting as sleep claims him. "I'll hold you to that."

Orange chuckles and smooths a hand down Hook's side once more before relaxing, content to listen to his steady, deep breathing, "I look forward to it," he says, no lack of confidence that it'll be sooner than Hook expects.