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skylersprompts · 1 month

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DC x DP Prompt *34*

Last night's patrol had been rough. Killer Croc got the jump on Tim, who won, but not without injuries. His son had a twisted ankle, bruised ribs and a wound on his back that needed stitches.

All of this meant that Bruce needed to find an excuse for Danny, who would be very confused why his brother was so hurt, when he was supposed to be sleeping at night.

Bruce stood up and made his way to Tim's room to make sure that the boy was still sleeping. To Bruce's surprise he not only found Tim, but also Danny in the bed. Both boys were deeply asleep. Danny's hand clasped Tim's wrist, his fingertips rested on the pulse point of his brother.

Unsure what that exactly meant, Bruce left. He would need to watch the development of this closely, to find out what was going on. If something was going on.

Dick got doused in fear gas. Danny sneaked into his room at night. His fingers are against the pulse of his oldest brother. Bruce closed the door, a light smile on his lips.

Stephanie got hurt in a fight against Freeze and stayed at the manor. Danny sat slumped on the floor of her room. His fingers securely against her wrist.

Damian got into a fight with Ivy and was still recovering from her pollen. Dick was sleeping and cuddling with his youngest brother. But someone else had cuddled close to the youngest bird. Danny was holding Damian's wrist close to his own chest.

Bruce was laying in bed with a broken arm after a run in with Bane. He wasn't surprised to hear his door open, or the smaller body that was crawling under his blanket. Danny's cold finger pressed against his wrist, until they found his pulse. The boy relaxed with a shuddering exhale. He pretended a little longer to be asleep, but before he could do anything else sleep pulled him under.

Duke ran into the Riddler. While he did solve the puzzle, he couldn't escape uninjured. He cracked a few ribs and wasn't able to hide his limp. When Duke was going to bed, Danny followed him to his room and slept beside the daytime vigilante.

Cass had a tough fight tonight. The court of owls was active again and while she was a skilled fighter, even she wasn't able to stay uninjured with too many enemies at once. She had a black eye and her wrist had a sprain. When Danny tried to sneak into her room, she looked at him and held her uninjured wrist in his direction. They both snuggled into her bed.

Alfred had an accident, while doing housework. He fell a few steps down the stairs with a laundry basket in hand. Luckily he only twisted his ankle. But when the old man woke up in the early hours of the morning, he found a black haired boy sleeping in a sitting position beside his bed. His fingers tightly around his wrist.

Jason had been shot. And while he tries to argue about being able to drive himself to his safe house, Alfred's disapproving gaze was enough to let him falter. But he stayed in the med Bay. When Bruce came to check on his second eldest, he found a smaller blackhead wrapped around him, his fingers pressed to the pulse point on his neck.

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kookicat · 3 years

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The Price of Peace

He gives in, in the end, to the doc's increasingly worried questions, coupled with concerned looks from the team and lets the man drive him to the hospital. Maybe he’s more blasé about injuries than the rest of the team, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. He knows his body well enough to know when to worry, and while he’s pretty sure there’s no need now, he’s no longer responsible for just himself. He has a team who relies on him now, and that’s enough motivation to accept the offer.

Nate herds Hardison and Parker back to the hotel and Eliot expects Sophie to go with them, but she follows him to the doctor's truck. His zip through hoodie is in her hands and she offers it to him, because the night air is taking on a chill and his skin and hair is still damp from the exertion. He slips it on, keeps his eyes averted from her as he eases his left arm into the sleeve, biting back a curse because moving hurts. It’s been a while since he did any real wrestling and the muscles in his back and thighs are letting him know they’re not happy about it.

The doc unlocks the truck doors and climbs into the driver's seat, cell phone in hand as he makes quiet arrangements. Eliot tucks himself in the back seat next to Sophie with a groan he can't quite stifle. There's a nasty throb starting in his left shoulder and his left eye has started to swell closed. The gloves have worked to mostly protect his hands but his knees and elbows are already sore. It's nothing that he hasn't been through before, but he's not used to anyone looking out for him, more used to retreating to that week's safehouse and bunkering down until the worst injuries heal and he can take his next job. Having a team to care about -for- him is new, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he's totally comfortable with it.

Sophie wordlessly hands him an instant ice pack and he presses it to his cheek, leaning back against the seat and letting his good eye close. His head aches, a sharper pain wrapping around his cheekbone and down through his jaw. The ibuprofen he'd swallowed back in the gym aren't doing anything but making him feel vaguely sick. The truck is chilly despite the hoodie and the ice pack isn't helping. He shivers once, a quick quake working through his body.

"Here," Sophie says quietly and shakes out one of her giant scarfs so it mostly covers him. The silk is cool on his skin at first but it warms quickly. It smells like Sophie- jasmine and musk and some hint of spice that he’s never quite figured out. It helps, blocking some of the cold sir and he feels himself relax, just a little, which helps his tight muscles.

He has to swallow twice before he can answer and even then, his voice isn't quite as steady as he would have liked. "Thanks." He forces his good eye open and rolls his head so he can look at her.

It's just dark enough to hide the expression on her face, but he thinks that she's frowning. "We could have found another way, you know," she says, softly. "No-one would have thought less of you."

Something in his jaw clicks when he starts to speak. "How long would that have taken? We did the right thing." He shifts, fingers clenching under the scarf as his battered ribs join in the chorus of hurts playing on his body. "The Howorths are safe now, and Rucker can't try the same trick on anyone else."

"Damn hard," the doctor says, "watching you taking that battering. Never seen anyone do that before." The doctor glances at them in the mirror, then turns his eyes back to the road.

"It's what he does," Sophie says, with a tone in her voice Eliot can't quite figure out, because he’s exhausted and hurting and still feels vaguely sick. There's reluctant admiration in it, coupled with worry, because they all know there's only so much damage a body can take before something breaks beyond repair.

It's not something he wants to think about, at least not while he's battered and bleeding. He closes his eyes again, leaning back against the seat, and lets himself doze, just a little, knowing it's a risk but doing it anyway. Trust has to start somewhere, and this is that place.

"Eliot," Sophie calls softly as they pull into the hospital parking lot. He's quiet and still on the seat next to her, enough to worry her if it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of his chest. There’s a little blood on the corner of his lip, more caked in his hairline and the sight of it makes something fierce clench in her chest. We should have found another way, she thinks, even though she knows it would have taken too long, left the family they were trying to protect defenceless. As much as she hates it, he’d been right.

He blinks awake, muscles in his jaw clenching as the pain hits again, sending measured breaths through his teeth until he gets it back under control. "Fuck," he breathes, fingers flexing in a way that makes her want to take his hand. He catches something in her expression and smiles, softly. “I’m okay,” he says and hands the scarf back to her.

“Eliot, you’re bleeding,” Sophie replies, and hears the doctor chuckle dryly at her tone. He is though, a slow trickle threading through his hair. His face is lined with pain and she hadn't missed the slight shake in his hands when he passed the scarf back.

He shakes his head, lost for words, and twists to open the truck door, bracing himself as he swings his legs out. Moving is a bad idea, because the slow, sluggish nausea that’s been plaguing him suddenly becomes much more acute, and he has to close his eyes, leaning back against the truck until the worst of it passes and he can breathe again.

Cool fingers find his wrist, and he startles a little, twitching his arm away. “Sorry,” Sophie says, and reaches for his arm again. “May I try something?”

He squints at her, then nods, once, and regrets it as a galaxy of stars filters through his brain. It’s all part and parcel of a concussion, and while he’s lived through it before, he’s not too thrilled to be living through it now.

She presses her fingers against his wrist, feeling for the right spot, knowing she's found it when some of the tension in his jaw fades. "I learned this on a cruise. The ship had some wonderful art I was going to relocate, but we got hit by a tropical storm and I spent three days throwing up until one of the stewards took pity on me."

It helps, as does her warmth as she leans against the truck, close but not quite touching him. "Let me tell you, when he showed me this, I wanted to kiss him and kick him at the same time."

He huffs a quiet laugh at that and starts walking, gently disengaging her fingers. They follow the doc towards the hospital doors and Eliot wonders why in hell he let himself be talked into this. He has no love for hospitals, has spent more time than he'd like inside of them, and he already can't wait to be walking back out of this one.

It's a handsome redbrick building, newer than he'd expected. The doc leads them straight into the ER and points to an open bay, where there’s already a nurse waiting. Eliot stops, thinking about walking back out to the truck, going back to the hotel and sleeping for at least twelve hours. A quick glance at Sophie’s face dissuades him of that idea; she’s frowning, clearly worried, and her eyes keep darting from the blooming bruise on his cheekbone to the still oozing cut on his hairline.

“Eliot?” she says, and the frown deepens. “What’s the matter?” Her hand drifts to his elbow and he draws in a soft breath because the contact hurts. He's pretty sure that come the morning, he's going to be covered in nasty dark bruises.

“Nothing,” he says, and resigns himself to god knows how much poking and prodding, taking a seat on the bed, idly rubbing his thumb over one aching knee. “Can we get this over with?” he asks the nurse, with the best smile he can muster and sighs.

----

He walks out again four hours later, after enough scans and xrays to make him feel like he's glowing, a bag of prescription meds dangling from one hand, a pretty good buzz running through his veins and ten stitches in the cut in his scalp. All he wants is to find a vaguely horizontal place to occupy and sleep for at least eight hours. His limbs feel like they're made from lead, heavy and stiff and vaguely achy. His back aches too, each step jarring through him like he's in a car with a blown suspension. His left shoulder is taped, supporting a torn muscle, and he's starting to wish he'd accepted the offer of a sling.

Sophie is sitting in the waiting area, silk scarf wrapped around her. She looks exhausted and he pauses, feeling a wave of fondness wash over him at the sight. She has nasty oily coffee from the ancient vending machine and she offers him the cup when he walks up to her.

The smell makes his stomach roll and he shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks," he says, voice just a little hoarse, and thinks about sitting down. He's pretty sure he won't get back up any time soon if he does so he rests his hip on the row of chairs instead.

He can see the question in her eyes just waiting to escape, and while she's not frowning any more he's got to know her well enough to know that she's still worried. "I'm fine. Nothing major," he says, carefully avoiding mentioning the hairline fracture in his cheekbone. "Worst of it is a couple of broken ribs and a damned concussion."

She presses her lips together, a mix of anger and concern drawing her brows into a frown. "Just a couple of broken ribs," she mutters and shakes her head.

"Soph," he says, fighting back a yawn. She looks up at the nickname, head tilting just a bit. "I'm fine. I've lived through worse. It'll suck for a couple weeks, that's all." He keeps his tone gentle, knows the anger in her is coming from a place of worry, knows she's probably blaming herself, because he knows for damn sure that's what he'd be doing if their positions were reversed. He'll tell Nate everything in the morning, because you don't hide injuries from your commanding officer, but Sophie doesn't need to know everything. It's just more weight to bear and God knows they're all already carrying enough.

The doc breaks the moment by ambling over, Eliot's chart tucked under his arm. He offers it to the other man. "Figured you wouldn't want a record of your visit leaving here," he says and pulls his keys out of his pocket. "Can I interest anyone in a lift back to their hotel?"

----

The gentle motion of the truck is soothing and he leans on the door, bruised temple resting against the cool glass and lets his mind drift. His eyes don't want to focus, turning the passing street lights into a pleasing blur. He's not sure if it's the concussion, the exhaustion, the drugs, or a combination of all three but he's content to just watch the darkened streets go by. He blinks heavy a couple of times, realising that he's dozing again and they're almost back at the hotel.

The doc swings the truck into the parking lot and drives up to the door, pulling to a gentle stop. Eliot knows he should thank the man but he can't find the energy and settles for an exhausted nod as he opens the door and practically falls out of the vehicle. He desperately needs sleep, preferably before the painkillers start to wear off.

Sophie waves the doc goodbye and comes to stand at Eliot's side, one hand raised like she wants to help but isn't sure how. He digs deep, trawling reserves of energy he rarely ever uses, and forces his legs to move. They stumble into the waiting lift and he leans against the wall with his good shoulder, all the words he wants to say jumbled on his tongue.

She reads something of it in his expression and nods, once; message received and understood.

The lift stops and they walk out. He expects Sophie to head to the girls' room but she doesn't, pulling out a key card and leading the way to the third room they'd hired, the one Hardison had dubbed the control centre. "The doc said someone should keep an eye on you tonight. He listed a few gruesome ways in which you could come to peril," she says dryly and pushes the door open. "Besides, Parker snores. I hope you don't."

"No one has ever complained," he says and limps into the room, heading to the recliner, glad he's got running shoes on that he can just toe off unlike his usual boots. He's pretty sure he's going to have enough trouble getting up in the morning and the bed just seems like tempting fate. "I'm fine here," he tells her and eases down into the soft leather, tapping the button to raise the leg support. It takes him a second to get vaguely comfortable but he's honestly so exhausted that he's not sure comfort is really going to matter.

Sophie shakes a blanket out over him, watching him fight to keep his eyes open. There's something oddly endearing about it that makes her smile. "Go to sleep," she says softly and with a sigh, he does.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907364/chapters/70920525 part two is posted here too. 😊

#leverage #whump #eliot spencer #fanfic #hurt/comfort #sophie devereaux #the tap out job #A little what if #episode tag

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arcaneglitch · 5 years

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Overtaken

An innocent Crucible match reveals that Oryx might still have more influence over Harley than anyone thought.

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"You want to what?"

"I want to play some Crucible," Kai repeated, "You've been acting kind of weird and stressed out lately, so I thought we could decompress."

"I must have missed something," said Harley, "Since when has Crucible been a place to relieve stress?"

"Since always," said Liv, "Duh!"

Harley couldn't agree. While he had enjoyed Crucible the last time he played it, he also remembered it as very stressful. Points weren't something you had to think about when clearing out a Fallen base. And going up against other Guardians had been an entirely different experience. Still, he saw the merit in Crucible acting as training for Guardians. It was excellent for learning tactics and cohesive teamwork. And he'd done rather well the last time he'd entered it. Maybe there was something to the idea after all. At any rate, it would probably be better than dodging his friends until his next patrol assignment, which is what he seemed to spend most of his time doing.

"Alright, I'm in."

Liv cheered. "Hell yeah! We'll show those other Guardians a thing or two!"

"Are any of the others coming?" asked Harley.

"Besides us three, Rogue, Rae, and Kay all said they'd join," said Kai.

"Not Tristan?"

Kai shook her head. "He's studying in his room… I'll slot us in for the next match."

As the Titan typed on her interface, Liv turned to Harley. "So what weapons are you going to use?"

"Hmm, probably the Freelancer and my sniper."

"You any good with it?"

"You've seen me snipe, Liv."

"Yeah but not in the Crucible. It's different in there."

"Well, I used it last time and it worked pretty well."

She shrugged. "You do you… It'll probably be good to have some variety anyway. A lot of the others like to go short or medium range."

"Next match is Zone Control in Bannerfall," said Kai, "We should probably head out now."

Liv clapped Harley on the shoulder. "See ya there!"

Harley watched as his friends transmatted away and then had Prism do the same for him. Once they were on their way to the chosen area, he worried over his gear, checking his weapons.

"Nervous?" asked Prism.

"I guess I kind of am," he replied, "It's been a long time."

"When was the last time you played?"

"I think it was before Oyrx and all the Taken stuff. I meant to go in a couple times since then, but then there was the stuff with you-know-who."

"And then you were avoiding everyone."

"I wasn't avoiding… Ok, maybe I was. But they keep asking about the you-know-who situation and I don't feel like talking about it."

"Understandable. Crucible should be good for you, then. You can hang out with them but they'll be too concerned with the match to bring it up. And hopefully, you'll be too focused to worry about it."

"Hopefully."

Guardian and Ghost fell silent, watching the scenery of the City go by as they approached their destination. Soon, Harley found himself being transmatted down into the arena below. Bannerfall marked the place where the Guardians of New Monarchy had defeated the Concordat, a faction that had attempted to wage war against the Vanguard. Later on, Shaxx had turned the site into a map for the Crucible.

Shaxx made the opening announcements and then the match began. A display popped up on Harley's HUD, showing the score, roster, and the waypoints for the three zones.

"Let's head for B," said Kai, "But split up."

"Ace, why don't you get sights on B," said Liv, "I'll watch your flank."

Harley nodded and ran off to find a good sniper lane. He knew that most Guardians figured out where all the good sniping areas were after playing a few matches on a map. There was a good chance that someone on the other team would be expecting them. But he could see nothing on his radar.

"Those dumbasses all went for B together!" exclaimed Rogue over the comms, "If only I could smash 'em now…"

The point counters on the scoreboard ticked up as Harley's friends engaged the enemy team.

"Son of a Dredgen!" cursed Kaedro, "I had a perfect line on B and one of them shot me out of it!"

Harley tuned the chatter out, sighting down his scope. But as he focused on the zone, he caught the flash of an opposing sniper scope that wasn't aimed at him.

"Liv, get down!"

The crack resonated across the map. Harley spun to find Liv sprawled on the ground and watched as her body was transmatted to the designated respawn area. Then his radar flashed red and he looked up to see a Hunter lunging at him. He dodged out of the way, drawing his knife, and plunged it into the Hunter's chest.

All of a sudden, something inside him twisted and he fought the urge to be sick. He found himself kneeling next to the Hunter's body, hands outstretched as the transmat kicked in. He shivered. Cold sweat beaded on the back of his neck. He heard Prism's voice calling to him, but it sounded so distant. The sonorous voice of Oryx filled his head.

"Your Traveler cannot reach you here, Child of the Sky… Your will is mine."

A pair of legs entered his field of vision, only to disappear in a violent flash. A different pair took their place, striding up to him with quick, sharp steps. Hands clamped down on his shoulders, yanking him roughly to his feet. The sharp movement only worsened his nausea and he groaned. The person holding him up was yelling something. Suddenly, they reached up and yanked off his helmet.

"Wake UP Hayden!" Kai was shouting, "This is the Crucible, not a summer camp!"

"Kill them all. Make them pay."

Harley's hands were trembling as he clamped them over his ears, trying to block Oryx out.

"I can't…"

"Can't what?"

"I can't… I don't want…"

"Don't want what?!"

"I don't want to kill them! Don't make me kill them!"

Kai pulled his hands away and said something else, but all he could hear was Oryx commanding him to kill her. He broke free, pressing his hands over his ears once more. Kai snapped her fingers in front of his face, waving irritatedly. He screwed his eyes shut and found the voice quieted. He could hear Kai better now.

"-on Prism?"

His Ghost's reply was worried. "I think it may be a panic attack."

Why wasn't she phased? He had to find her, but he feared that if he saw her, Oryx would tell him to destroy her.

"I have no idea why he's reacting this badly. He was better for a while..."

"Ace?"

A hand settled on his arm. He flinched, but the touch was light, barely putting pressure on him. Kai's voice was much less irritated. Instead, she sounded concerned.

"Look at me."

Harley shook his head, eyes still closed. He heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps. But then Kai said something that made them stop. Everything was still muffled. Hesitantly, he brought his hands away from his ears. The voice was silent.

"Look at me," Kai repeated.

He shook his head again. "Can't."

"Why?"

"If I see you, he'll tell me to kill you."

"Who?"

"Oryx."

He heard her inhale. When she spoke again, her voice was measured.

"Ace, Oryx can't control you. You're not Taken anymore. That was two years ago."

Harley cracked his eyelids open by a sliver. Sunlight poured in, making his eyes water a bit. Kai stood in front of him with Prism floating next to her. Both were watching him with concern. When Oryx's voice didn't emerge to give him commands, he opened his eyes the rest of the way.

"Harley?" asked his Ghost.

"Yeah?"

"Are you still hearing him?"

He shook his head. "Not anymore."

"You haven't had an attack this bad for a while," she said worriedly, "Do you know what might have triggered it?"

He took a slightly shaky breath. "When I...killed that Guardian, it… It was like when I was Taken and Oryx was telling me to kill you guys. Like when I almost killed Kay."

"I didn't know you remembered that." The Titan's voice was carefully calm.

"It's fuzzy… Everything's fuzzy except when it's not. Does that make any sense?" She shook her head. "I don't remember much. But...I remember turning on Kay. But only sometimes. When I'm...reminded."

"I think I'm starting to get it," said Kai, "Are you ok now?"

He nodded. "Better."

"Do you want to finish the match?"

He shook his head feverently. "I don't think I could make myself kill another Guardian… I know they're on the other team, but killing that Hunter made me feel...wrong."

"Ok. I'll get Shaxx to pull you out. He'll understand… Look, Ace. I think you should tell the others about this stuff. You've been...affected by this since you were in the med bay. It's the kind of thing your team should know."

"No! I don't want them to worry about me. I can manage this. They have other things to worry about. Promise me you won't tell them!"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. I'm not gonna say anything without your say-so. But you should think about it. This isn't the kind of thing you should suffer through alone."

"...I'll think about it," he said unwillingly.

Kai nodded. "Good. We'll meet you back in the Tower, yeah?"

He nodded. With one last glance at him, the Titan returned to the match. Harley retrieved his helmet, then allowed Prism to transmat him back to the Star.

"I shouldn't be a Guardian," he said as they flew back, "What kind of Guardian can't even play one Crucible match?"

"Plenty of Guardians don't play Crucible," said Prism comfortingly, "That doesn't make them better or worse than the ones who do. It's not a weakness to not want to kill other Guardians."

"It is a weakness to fall apart on the battlefield. What if next time something like that happens, it's someplace like the Vault of Glass? What if someone dies because I'm incapacitated? ...I never should've been given the Light in the first place."

"You are more than deserving of the Light, Harley. Don't torture yourself by wondering about things like that. If something like this ever happens again, we'll get through it like we always have: together."

Harley gave a small smile. "Thanks, Prism."

"Anyone who thinks my Guardian doesn't deserve the Light will get a piece of my mind. And that includes you."

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny fanfiction #chasing fate #cf overtaken

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