Everything was going well…until there was a sudden flash of pain slashing across Max's lower arm when he missed grabbing the knife.
"Damn it!" he shouted, the rest of the knives he'd been juggling clattering around him, one even nicking him on the back of his leg. He grimaced. The pain was nothing, really, but the cuts were deep and obvious…the one on his arm was already oozing blood.
"Oh, boy, Sam's gonna flip," Max groaned.
His partner was almost exactly the way he remembered…though after Max had jumped timelines to find him, he'd been…a bit overprotective. And Max just knew he'd be unreasonable and upset if he saw him injured like this. It got on his nerves—it wasn't like he got all weird about things after what happened to his Sam in his original timeline!
That was ignoring the fact he still couldn't sleep comfortably during thunderstorms, and ended up seeking Sam out during them just to confirm he wasn't developing powers and at the very eye of the storm. That was completely different, and he wasn't paranoid or overbearing at all!
Sam, on the other hand…well, he hovered over Max a lot. Nice sentiment and all, but still annoying—Max wasn't made of glass! He was still the same tough, indestructible lagomorph as ever.
Which was why he'd been so determined to prove just that to his partner. This small attempt at proving how indestructible and unbeatable he was definitely didn't go as planned, though, Max thought, shooting a scowl down at his own injured arm. Pretty much the opposite of what he'd wanted to happen.
Well. At least he'd tried juggling with the knives first before jumping right to the flaming chainsaws he'd been thinking of using.
Still, what was he gonna do about this? He headed over to the sink, turning on the faucet and putting his injured arm under it to rinse off the blood…though it took a bit of scrubbing to get it out of his fur, where it stuck out a lot against the white.
With damp fingers, he also managed to scrub the small amount of blood off the back of his leg…but that just made it a bit worse, smearing it around in a pinkish stain. He ended up crawling in the sink to rinse off his leg, too.
The success was short-lived, though, as more blood began to pool out of his cuts again, especially in the case of his arm. He hopped out of the sink and to the bathroom, eventually pulling out a dusty first-aid kit…before pausing.
Bandaging it up wasn't really an option. Sure, it would keep him from bleeding out and everything, but Sam would immediately see them and know that something was up.
Well, it would be worth a shot, at least. He opened the first-aid kit, sending up a cloud of dust, and began to paw through the materials until he found the whitest roll of bandages. He wrapped them around his arm, ripping the bandage with his teeth and tucking the loose ends underneath the other folds. He tore off another bit that he looped around his leg to cover the cut there.
He stepped back, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Well, it didn't look immediately as bad now…but it would only take Sam a few seconds to notice the bandages. They were white, but didn't exactly blend in with his fur.
That and red blood was seeping into them already.
He groaned. Sam was at Bosco's grabbing some snacks, Max had just stayed behind to get some juggling practice in without him watching over his shoulder. It was a mystery how long he'd be out, depending on how many questions he decided to ask Bosco…which meant that Max would need to hurry.
He started to tear through their office and the apartment above, trying to find something that would help.
The office door started to open. Max's ears shot up, and he dropped most of the random things he'd grabbed into a pile. Somehow Sam was able to grab random junk and make it work to fix their problems, but now Max just had a mess.
Quickly, before the door opened fully, Max dove under a blanket he'd grabbed, bundling himself up in it and turning on the TV. He'd just been watching mindless brain-melting stuff this whole time, absolutely nothing for Sam to fuss over him about! Perfect.
Sam stepped inside and closed the door behind him, grinning when he saw Max. "Anything good on, little buddy?"
Max laughed. "You know there never is."
Sam chuckled, smiling at him fondly and dropping a paper bag filled to the brim with cheap snacks right next to Max. Max reached out with his non-injured arm to snag some, content to act as though nothing had happened…
Except his partner paused, tilting his head. Sam sniffed the air, brow furrowing. "…did you get into a fight without me?"
"What? Noooo," Max said, blowing a raspberry. "What makes you say that?"
Sam's brow furrowed further, and he continued sniffing at the air. Max's heart began to pound, and Sam's ears twitched, muzzle shifting in Max's direction.
A few more sniffs, and he suddenly whipped the blanket off of Max, sending him spinning in a circle…and revealing his bloody bandages.
"Max!" Sam shouted. Max wobbled, regaining his balance. "You got hurt and you didn't tell me?" He sounded almost hurt.
"It's a scratch!" Max insisted. "How did you even know?"
"I could smell blood," Sam explained, tapping his nose. Max drooped, cursing internally. He always seemed to forget Sam being able to use his natural senses when it was convenient for him.
"How did this happen?" Sam continued, grabbing Max's wrist and inspecting his injury. "And why didn't you tell me about it?"
Max groaned, pulling his wrist out of his grip. "Look, I was just practicing some juggling, and I got nicked. It's no big deal!"
Sam gave him a sharp look. "And if that's the case, I repeat—why didn't you let me know?" That look he gave Max was piercing, cold…it was an expression he hadn't seen Sam wear before. He was scarily serious.
Max scowled, averting his gaze, but he could still feel the intense stare on him, searching for answers. "This is why I didn't tell you," he grumbled. "I'm fine, but you're still acting like this is the end of the world!"
Sam growled a little. "You think I shouldn't care about you getting hurt!?"
"I think you need to let me live!" Max snapped. "What's life without a few injuries, anyway? How boring would it be if we weren't in at least a little danger when we're fighting crime or going on adventures!?"
Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times…then let out a loud, heavy sigh. "Have I been that bad?"
"Kind of."
Sam let out another heavy sigh…then rested his snout on top of Max's head. "Okay. Fine. I can…try to stop that." He pulled back to give Max a look. "As long as you don't try to deliberately prove how tough you are…and don't hide it when you're injured!"
"…fine," Max conceded.
Sam looked at his bandage work…which was already starting to fall a bit loose. He sighed. "You try to find something halfway decent on TV, and I can fix up your bandages a bit more. Sound good, little buddy?"
Max nodded, grabbing the remote with his good hand and flipping through channels. Sam, meanwhile, knelt beside him, unwrapping Max's bandages to redo them, tying a knot to hold the one on his arm in place…and grabbing a band-aid to put on the smaller cut on his leg.
That had gone…better than Max had thought. And if this was how things were going to turn out…he probably wouldn't hide injuries from Sam. Not that he was going to get injured again, he was sure, this was just a fluke!