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ejunkiet · 9 months

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no rush of light, no sign of belonging

>:3 continuing the Dasher train with a belated bday gift for @dominimoonbeam - I asked her for a prompt, she ripped my heart out, and so I decided to inflict that on all of us <33

redacted audio: david/asher, rated teen (cw: hospitals, rushed healing, near death experience)

READ ON AO3

In the aftermath of inversion, David nearly loses Asher. -- You're it for me, big guy. It’s me and you. Until the end.”

no rush of light, no sign of belonging.

“You need to step away from the table.”

“No.” David doesn’t snap, doesn’t say anything else aside from that one word, edged with a sharpness he can feel in his teeth, in the fraying remnants of his magic.

The healer in front of him levels him with a long look, looking as tired as he feels, her greying hair spilling from a messy knot, the flyaways framing her face in a disordered array. Her expression is a mixture of understanding and frustration as the room fills with bodies, the weight of the magic thrumming in the air around them enough to set his teeth on edge.

“We’re trying to help you.” She makes an aborted gesture back at the bed where he can barely make out the shape of Asher on the bed, his features slack and ashen beneath the blood and muck that coats him head to toe. “We’re trying to help him.”

Asher had barely been breathing when David had carried him in, limp and cold and still, so still, the rapid, shallow thread of his heartbeat in his ears, barely audible over the chaos that surrounded them after the ward fell, present and alive.

“He needs as much magic as we can get into him, and fast. You can’t be here.”

“I can’t leave him.” God help them if they try. “I can help with the magic. Help the healing.” Sam had talked him through it before, and it had worked. It would work again. “Let me help.”

The words feel awkward in his mouth, unwieldy. He can feel the length of his canines, sharp in his mouth, and knows she can see them too, something wary and uncertain flickering across her expression, before she releases a harsh breath.

“Stay at the head of the bed.” She takes him by the wrist, leading him to his position, pressing his palm firmly against Asher’s shoulder, clammy and cool to the touch beneath the dried blood. “Send your magic to meet ours.”

He nods, his eyes on Asher, tracing the familiar lines of his features, the faint freckles beneath his eyes, before he takes a breath, letting his eyes slip shut and feel the magic.

He doesn’t have much left, but he has enough for this.

–

When the steady thrum of Asher’s heartbeat stutters out ten minutes later, leaving an echoing, hollowing stillness in its wake, David’s heart stops with it.

He…

David reaches across the threads of his magic, seeking out the familiar warmth of him, magic and teeth and fur, and finding nothing but stillness.

No.

There are hands on his shoulders, pressing against his chest, tugging him back. It takes three sets of hands to manoeuvre him away, the thrum of another ward fizzing into life as the healers establish a perimeter around the bed, leaving just one of them within it, arms spread wide-

“Clear, do it now!”

The crackle of electricity flares within the bubble, sinking into Asher’s chest, making him arch, muscles tightening reflexively, and there’s an angry, vicious snarl echoing around the room that he barely recognises as his own as Asher falls back onto the bed.

The healer in the bubble glances towards him with wide eyes, even as David feels the pressure of the static build again. “We’ve got him. Clear!”

The second charge leaves Asher convulsing on the bed, and David starts fighting against the hands holding him back, feeling the shift overtake him, leaving him somewhere between man and wolf, his teeth heavy in his mouth, frantic and desperate–

“Clear, again!”

A hand finds the back of his neck, gripping tight as he tries to wrench away from the touch, a wave of icy cold magic flooding his system, thick and soporific, stealing his strength.

The room slants to one side, and he falls to his knees, his eyes on the bed and the bubble of magic there, the grim determination of the healer as he tries again to kickstart Asher’s heart.

“Clear!”

Another flash, another convulsion. David feels the flicker of something familiar, something reaching back, weak and trembling, but there.

David…

A whisper of his name, somewhere in the dark. Then, nothing.

–

“...avid Shaw. Of the Shaw pack? He’s our alpha. Yeah, you heard that right. Alpha.”

Milo’s voice, sharp and caustic as it cuts through the ambient buzz of conversation and machines, is the first thing he hears when he wakes. He feels as if he is moving through a fog, his limbs weighted and heavy, wavering between consciousness and the dark.

“So unless you want our entire pack on your doorstep, you’re gonna let me see him. Yeah, I mean now.” His voice is growing louder, followed by the hushed tones of someone he doesn’t recognise, too muffled for him to catch. Milo barks out an incredulous laugh. “You fuckin’ sedated him? After all the shit he went through, you just-”

The door opens with a soft snick, and he cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath.

“Fuck. David.”

He manages a groan, cracking his eyes open just as Milo reaches him, his dark eyes wide and frantic, the scent of him thick and wolfish, speaking to the part of him that is pack. With it come the memories - the games, the shades, all the magic and death, and Asher, fuck-

“Asher, he-”

“He’s okay. He made it. You- you both did.” His voice chokes on the words, and there are tears in his eyes, a waver in the tight line of his jaw. “Thought we lost you both in there. We all did. But then, my mate- they heard about this commotion at the hospital...”

He takes the seat by the side of the bed, leaning in until he can bump his head against David’s, taking a moment. He smells like sweat and exhaustion, and he looks wrecked, the deep shadows beneath his eyes almost like bruises.

“The rest of the pack?” David manages to ask, his tongue thick in his mouth, the tension in him easing as Milo manages a weak smile, handing him a bottle of water that he gulps down.

“They all made it out. They’re exhausted, and Chrissy will have to stay off the leg for a while, but they’ll be okay. Physically, at least. Mentally…” He trails off. “Well. You know.”

He nods, feeling that ache within his chest. He does. “And Ash?”

Milo hesitates for a long moment, as if he’s having to carefully choose his words.

“They’re.. not sure how far the scarring will go. If there will be lingering effects. Movement, and such.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“I need to see him.” David goes to push off the bed as Milo lays his hand on his shoulder, gently holding him back - and he realises he’s only wearing a thin hospital gown beneath the sheet, his clothes nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll take you to him. Just - wait a sec.” Milo reaches over the side of the bed to pick up a backpack David hadn’t noticed until now, tugging it open and pulling out a pair of old sweats and a shirt. “I brought you some clothes. They said you shredded yours.”

“Thank you.” He means for more than the clothes, and Milo nods, a bit of the strain easing from his expression as he offers him a smile.

“Of course. You don’t even need to say it.”

–

He follows Milo into the hall, where he convinces a nurse to guide them to the intensive care unit, talking up his credentials with the confidence of a hotshot in the department. He’s in his element here, taking charge of the situation while David limps along behind him, exhausted but somehow, somehow, still standing.

Still, it’s a shock when Milo stumbles, and when he looks closer, he’s worse off than he expected, his aura muted, drained to the point where David can barely sense it.

“You look like shit.” Milo huffs out a laugh, throwing him a look as he rolls his shoulders in a shrug.

“Feel like it too.” He manages a weak smile, shaking his head at David’s glance. “I’ll tell you more about it later.”

A floor and two corridors later, they’re guided to a recovery ward, the scent of antiseptic sharp at the back of his throat as they’re led to a private suite, cordoned off from the rest of the floor.

On the bed behind the door, buried beneath a mess of sensors and cables, is Ash.

“He’s not woken up yet.” Milo’s voice is soft as he glances over the array of tubes and sensors that surround him, the soft beep of the heart monitor breaking the silence. “But his vitals are holding steady. The doctor says it’s just a matter of time.”

He’s wavering on his feet, his strength failing, and David takes his arm, jerking his head towards the door when he meets his gaze.

“Call your mate, ask them to take you home. I’ll watch over him.”

“David-” He cuts himself off as David shakes his head in a sharp movement, holding his gaze.

“You’ve done enough. Get some rest, Milo. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

–

David doesn’t know how much time passes while he waits for Asher to wake up.

The nurse comes by once or twice to check up on him, letting him know that he’d been granted permission to stay the night - as if he wouldn’t have stayed anyway, regardless of what the hospital or department might have said.

It’s later, long after the rest of the ward has gone dark and David is sitting at his bedside, tracing the lines of the scars that peek out from the edges of his bandages, that Asher finally shifts in the sheets, his eyes blinking slowly open.

“...Davey?”

“Ash.”

He feels as if there’s a storm caught in his chest, violent and uncertain as he grasps at Ash’s hand. There’s a small smile playing on Asher’s mouth, his lips chapped to the point of bleeding, and he looks so tired as he fights to keep his eyes open, holding David’s gaze.

“I… I felt you reaching for me. Gave me an anchor to hold onto. Heard you at the end, too. The healers were scared shitless.” He laughs weakly, flinching as it tugs at the stitches in his chest. “Fuck, remind me not to do that.”

“I was scared, too.” The words fight to come out around the tightness of his throat, and he’s holding himself back. He wants to touch him, feel him, make sure he’s here, real and alive.

“I know. I felt it.” Asher falls silent for long enough that David thinks he may have fallen back asleep, but then he speaks again. “I felt… more than that. I felt all of it, David.”

He freezes. All of it.

Fuck.

It’s been almost four years since they’d last shared a connection like this. Since they’d last bridged. He hadn’t meant to connect their threads like that - caught in the moment, needing to feel him - but now that he had, there was no taking it back.

Asher lets the silence sit between them for a little while longer, before he breaks it again, his voice small in the quiet of the room. “I didn’t know you still felt that way. About me.”

He doesn’t know what he can say to that. Asher already knows, felt the weight of it, all consuming in his thoughts when he thought he’d lost him.

Asher licks his lips, his eyes bright above the shadowy bruises that ring his eyes. “Can you… come over here? Please.”

His hands are shaking but he closes the distance between them, shifting until he’s seated at the edge of the bed, leaning in when Asher reaches for him, dropping his forehead against his.

“You should have told me, big guy.” His voice is barely more than a whisper against his cheek. “You know I feel the same, right?”

He had, once. But four years was a long time. They weren’t the same people. David wasn’t. And he - he deserved so much more than what David could give him.

“David, look at me.”

He takes in a long, slow breath. He draws back in increments, reluctant to lose the contact, but Asher’s hand finds his cheek, keeping him close.

“I know. I know.” Asher’s breath trembles against his cheek as he swallows, his eyes wide and glassy as they flicker between his. “I know that you think that about yourself. But you’re wrong.”

His voice chokes a little, even as he offers him a soft smile, his thumb tracing the curve of David’s cheek. “You’re it for me, big guy. It’s me and you. Until the end.”

Asher’s soft mouth finds his and he kisses him, and everything falls into place.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #dasher #david/asher #redacted david #redacted asher #ej writes redacted #writing

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