Tw: Vomit Mention - Blog Posts

26. Cold

Kidd - 17 | Killer - 21 |Heat -22

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Head Injuries again

please seek emergency care for head injures like this!

The helmet is born

brief but repeated vomit

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

"What's wrong with him?"

House gestured over to where they'd set up an impromptu infirmary; where Heat had apparently marched Killer off to once the heaviest of the fighting had died down. "Dunno. I think he tried to block a pipe with his face."

Kidd groaned; He didn't like to see Killer hurt - but he didn't like to hear Killer had gotten hurt in such a stupid way even more. He stalked over to the little shelter, throwing the door open to find just the two men thankfully.

Killer was seated on the ground, Heat squatting next to him, red stained cloth pressed against his forehead and their first aid supplies lain out next to them. The cloth mask Killer usually wore over his face had been pushed up as an impromptu headband by Heat to hold his bangs back as he picked through the supplies one handed. Heat waved for Kidd to keep his voice down, the Captain only just biting back a jab at Killer's bad luck.

"hmhmmka" He mumbled to Kidd.

He was definitely not okay; any jest's dying on Kidd's lips as Killer tried to stand up to prove he was fine only for all the colour to drain from his face. He was blinking rapidly, and then Kidd and Heat were lowering him back to the ground before he fainted.

"Get the bucket," Heat warned urgently, dropping the bloody rag to pull Killer's hair back suddenly. Kidd handed it off just in time for Killer to hurl into it. It was not the first time, Kidd frowned, as the bucket already had sick in it. "I'm.. gonna go dump this." His nose wrinkled up at it once he took it back from Killer before he spilled it on himself.

"I wouldn't. I don't think he's done yet."

Kidd's frowned deepened; Heat began to stitching up the still bleeding cut along Killer's hair line. Kidd reached out to touch the end of Killer's nose, blood dripping onto his hand.

"This one is bad."

"/This/ one?" Heat looked nervous, "How many concussions has he had?"

Kidd made a /ehh/ noise, checking Killer's pupils, "I'm gonna have to start sending you out with a safety helmet, buddy."

Killer just looked confused. "Imnt 'uty"

"Oh Killer, you so are fucked up right now." Kidd said sympathetically.

"A'mo wel'day." He told Kidd as Heat finished trying off the thread, before giving a pathetic whine and shudder as Heat pulled away. Baffled by the noise, Heat looked over at Kidd who shrugged back.

Tentatively, Heat put his hand back on Killer's forehead and swore, before using both hands to cup his cheeks. Killer closed his eyes and shivered, leaning into his touch.

"He does feel a little chill," Heat warned, and Kidd pulled his jacket off to wrap Killer up in it.

In a show of gratitude, Killer puked on him.

<><><>

He can't help but have a laugh at Killer's expense when he hands the gag-gift over as they wait for permission to dock on the little backwater island; The Victoria Punk is almost bigger then the entire pier and someone on island wants to make sure she's actually going to fit. It's a reasonable enough request with no undertone of malicious intent, so Kidd is content to wait for once.

"You've had a real head for trouble lately," he cackles, as Killer opens the box to study the crudely made safety helmet.

It's just a basic hard hat that Kidd had shaped out of scrap steel, though he'd lowered the back a little more than was standard and didn't bother shaping the brim onto it.

"Shouldn't there be like... padding?" Killer asked, baffling Kidd in that he seemed to be taking it... seriously.

"Wait.. What?"

"I don't think it's going to be useful without some padding to absorb the blow. It's also going to fall right off."

"Are... Are you fucking with me?" Kidd asked; Killer was inspecting the item like he was actually considering wearing it.

He also looked confused by Kidd's comment. "What do you mean?"

"Because I'm fucking with you. This is a joke..." Kidd said slowly, waiting for Killer to drop the act, "Because after your last concussion? I made that joke about sending you out in a helmet?"

Killer looked down at the helmet in confusion, and then looked back up, still lost.

"Which I'm starting to realize... with your concussion, you don't remember any of that..."

".. I'm sorry?"

"Air son muir, don't be fucking sorry!" Kidd went to take the helmet back, feeling a fool, only to catch a look of uncertainty on Killer's face and pulled his hand back slowly. "I... Di.. Do you want me to make you a helmet? Like... an actual helmet?"

Killer floundered for a moment, "...Maybe?"

Kidd held his hand out, and Killer handed the piece to him this time. "So... Padding..." he prompted, turning the metal over.

"Maybe a face plate too?"

A knot tangled up in Kidd's gut. "Like, are you thinking down the center covering the nose or up over the cheeks?"

He almost didn't hear Killer's response, it was so quiet. It shouldn't have surprised him, not after a friendship as long as theirs.

"Anything you want."

If Killer wanted it full coverage, then that's what Kidd would make for him.