Work Text:
Gary bit off more than he could chew, again. And Andy had to get him out of it, again.
It was late, and the street lights were making both Gary and Andy’s head pound from their recent drinking and beating. Gary had decided that it was a miraculous idea to wind up a group of some forty-odd year old men that’d slinked off to the pub after a long shift to get away from the missus. It got verbal fast, and it got physical even faster. And now Gary was sporting a rapidly swelling eye, along with a broken nose, if the jutting out bone threatening to tear skin was anything to go by. while the underneath of Andy’s finger nails were caked with dried blood and his palms felt an itch from an array of tiny cuts, caused by some shards that’d strayed when he smashed a pint glass on one of the offending lads to loosen their hold on Gary.
It was a sorry sight for anyone that might’ve been looking out of their window at the two. Andy had his arm wrapped firm around Gary’s thin midsection, as Gary limped and gurgled up congealed blood to spit onto the curb or into the road. Neither of the two could really walk straight and each step felt like they might take a trip to the pavement. they’d eventually adapted to use eachother as a support to lean on, their bodies close and tight, it was beginning to feel like a three legged race on sports day, but without the skipping rope burning into your ankle and more just basic commitment to one another to make sure a skull isn’t cracked open.
Adrenaline of the events was beginning to wear off, and aches were coming from new places. Andy glanced down through hazy vision to his free hand that dangled at his side, finding his pinkie finger had gradually been turning purple, shit. Time must’ve been moving slow because before Andy had even lifted his head away from the gnarly sight he was greeted with another, Gary was on the floor, his arm clutched around his stomach as he hurled into the street with an ugly gurgle. Blood mixed with a harsh yellow bile painted the concrete and he swore he could see a tooth mixed in with the mess.
Andy patted Gary’s back lazily in an attempt to help him recover from his funk a little faster, until eventually Gary wiped the residue that sat on the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, gross, and lifted his body to continue their journey, seeming a little bit more sober after his body’s purge. Movements started to feel like they were calculated on pure instinct and Gary’s condition was leaving him less responsive by the minute, Andy was dragging their sorry asses to his house as fast as he could.
Gary tripped on the door step and Andy fought with the lock in a mighty battle of poor cognitive skills, and with valiant effort, the threshold opened wide to let them in. Andy was both grateful and unhappy to see the clock near the door, knowing the time was great but also knowing it was currently 2am meant work was going to be a bitch tomorrow.
Gary still lingered by the front door with his eyes closed, looking like he was fighting himself not to hurl all over the new floor boards in the hallway. Andy’s arm wrapped around the other boys waist, which enticed a very seductive “oohh~” from his lips, earning a hastily and harsh shushing, the last thing Andy wanted was his parents thinking he’d brought a girl home.
It was a group effort to get up the stairs in a quiet enough manner to ensure that everyone in the residence still slept soundly, and once Andy’s door was closed and Gary was discarded on a bean bag in the corner, a sigh of relief was shared between the two.
“You look like shit”. Gary spoke with a smile, blood smeared across his front teeth.
His eyebrows met together at the bridge of his nose at the statement.
“Yeah, no thanks to you.”
His bottom lip jutted out at that, obviously Gary wasn’t a fan of being blamed for things that were very clearly his fault.
“Shit! What happened to your hand?”
Andy looked down at the finger he’d tried so hard to forget about, it was a much darker bruise now.
“I think I broke my finger punching someone— Jesus Gaz you’re bleeding all over the carpet!”
“Ah, well blood does come out easy.”
“No! It doesn’t!”
With a scowl, Andy grabbed whatever fabric was near him, throwing it at Gary and motioning to him to wipe away the blood that was still dripping from his nose.
“A sock?”
“Yes, now for fucks sakes wipe your face”
“Eww Andy! It’s all crusty!” He giggled in between words, tone at a pitch that was conceived to annoy Andy that little bit more.
He was fed up, he was tired, everything hurt. So he just gave Gary the silent treatment, slinking off to his bed and hurling his body weight at it, the room being graced with a puff of air that smelt like washing detergent.
“Andy, hey, Andy. C’mon…”
The silent treatment seemed to work, Andy could hear the faint sounds of the sock being harshly rubbed against stubble, mixed in with small painful whines and groans. But then a worrying silence filled the room, and before Andy could protest, Gary’s skinny form was making an attempt to co-habit the bed. Andy let him. A wiry pair of fingers travelled their way to his sore shoulder, it’s destination landing on his aching hand, rubbing soothly at the burning skin. Andy let it.
Andy knew one day Gary would pick a battle he couldn’t win, and god damn him, Andy will be by his side to fight it.