#patching wounds

phantom thief au high noon(sky/sun) sidestory

Starling = Sky who uses they/them this whole fic

Starling dropped onto the balcony of their favourite detective. It was disappointing that he’d missed the heist. But right now, not too disappointing. If he’d been there, then he wouldn’t have been home. Then Starling wouldn’t know what to do but wait. It’s not like they could go to the hospital. They were a criminal and they couldn’t risk being asked questions they had no good answers to. At least it’s unlikely anyone saw their fall. Minus their unwelcome acquaintance. Which was bullshit; when they’d started thieving for fun they’d never thought they would get mixed up in someone else’s show. But that was where life led. Now Starling was here, breaking into the apartment of their favourite detective. (Not for the first time, they will admit. The second time. There really was no desire to break into the detective’s home, it wasn’t fun like the heists were, but the first had extenuating circumstances as their detective had been hurt and they’d had no other way to check on him.)

The door was locked. A golden curtain covered the glass, but they could still see light shine weakly through. Pro of being a phantom thief who works at night. Starling got out their lock picks and got to work. There was a twinge in their left shoulder. It made their hand spasm and scrape against the lock- Starling winced at the seemingly loud noise in the quiet night. They shook out their hand, careful not to jostle their shoulder too much, and switched hands. Without having the worry of jostling the bullet wound, the lock clicked much faster. They sighed in relief and opened the balcony door. The pain wasn’t great. Soon, though, Starling could let their detective handle it. And they wouldn’t have to worry about the pain.

Blonde hair peaked out over the back of the couch. It didn’t turn toward Starling. Whether that was because they opened the door so quietly or because the detective didn’t think a threat could come from out here, they didn’t know. It could go either way. Not only did their detective live on a higher floor, he could be rather reckless. (Once, Starling had watched him climb a pipe five stories up to sneak up on a criminal. The detective caught the criminal, but was stabbed in the process. Had it not been for their own interference, well. Starling didn’t wantto know how badly that could’ve gotten. It was bad enough seeing a knife go through their favourite detective’s palm.)

“Hey there, detective,” Starling stepped inside from the balcony.

“Starling? I live on the thir- Starling!” Bright red eyes widened and Starling knew he’d noticed the wound. Good. If he hadn’t, they would be a bit disappointed. It wasfairly obvious. At least, Starling thought so. They’d tried to fix up their wound as much as possible, but there was only so much one could do without a first aid kit. The most Starling could do was staunch the bleeding and attempt to wrap it. Which would’ve been easier if the shot hadn’t hit their shoulder. Blood had run hot in a trail down Starling’s arm and dripped at their fingertips as they pressed the sleeve of their shirt to the wound. Now, the red stained the silver shirt sleeve. It spread like a clasp over their left shoulder. Sun sprang up from the couch and rushed over to them. A hiss escaped through their teeth as the detective touched their shoulder. The hand backed off immediately. A guilty look flickered across red eyes. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Starling smiled. “Barely hurt.”

Sun looked at him incredulously. Worriedly. Then he forced a smile. “Right, it’s just a flesh wound.”

“Exactly. Now, do you think you could help me fix up this flesh wound?” Starling asked. “Not that I couldn’t do it myself but-”

“The bullet didn’t go all the way through?” Sun said.

Starling blinked. “How’d you know?”

“A guess. I’ve seen your disguises enough to know there are wounds you’ve started to hide, but this is the first time you’ve brought one to me which means it must be more difficult to deal with then the others. From the bleeding…” Sun trailed off, fingers ghosting the red on their shoulder. Starling followed his eyes. It really wasn’t as bad as it looked. Or, Starling didn’t think it was. Hoped it wasn’t. … now that they thought about it, they’d never stopped to question if their detective could even patch up a bullet wound. Of course Starling could- this wasn’t the first time they’d been shot. But the other times had been in the thigh, the lower arm, and the side respectively. And all four had gone clean through. All grazes really, except the second shot that had gone through Starling’s side. That had been moderately far into their flesh and definitely not pleasant. “I thought ‘bullet’ would be a good guess. Unless you were stabbed and yanked the knife out before deciding to fly over here?”

“No,” Starling shook their head. “Just shot this time.”

“This time.” Sun looked at them in surprise, practically choking on the first word. The thief smiled. It was cute to see the detective thrown off. And worried specifically about them. Even if Starling was in a bit of pain.

A lot of pain.

Getting shot in the shoulder hurt, okay?

“One of my acquaintances is a bit more archaic than the others,” Starling shrugged their uninjured shoulder, doing their best not to jostle the injuredshoulder.

“Archaic? She uses a sword or something?” Starling nodded. Sun frowned at them. “Anything else?”

“Well, short, stabby, seems to be angry a lot. There’s not a lot about the others,” Starling said. Only one of the acquaintances ever got close to Starling. The short one whose appearance never seemed to be the same- except the size and the anger. It was like Starling could taste blood thirst radiating in the air around the short acquaintance. Whoever said short people are angry because they were closer to hell certainly met her. There were two others, but- all Starling had seen of the tallest was a hat and of the other was their gun. A sniper, because that’swhat Starling wanted following them while they were trying to put on a show and steal a gem. Now Starling actively had to keep an eye out for a possible shooter. Thank Oum the acquaintances didn’t show up at every performance.

Sun nodded, seeming to accept that. Somehow, Starling doubted that was the end of the questioning. Eventually there would likely be more. (Detectives were the nosiest breed, after all.) “You weren’t-”

“Followed? Of course not. I’d only ever let you follow me, dear.” Starling smiled at him. Hopefully charmingly. With the adrenaline draining out, the pain was draining in. Each beat of Starling’s heart pounded it through them. It was like they could feel the bullet where it was stuck. Perhaps they could. The smile has to be stiffer than what Starling had gone for, because Sun’s eyes flickered back to the covered wound and his weight shifted between his feet. For a detective, his tells were glaringly obvious. My detective would likely have no chance on the stage, Starling thought. Though, at least for Starling, the detective himself would distract from however bad his performance might be.

But maybe Starling was being unfair. It was usual for these specific signs to show. As far as Starling knew, their detective rarely got nervous like this. All anxious body movements and quiet mouth. And perhaps that was the greatest poker face of all. Simply not needing one. Sun worried his bottom lip between his teeth like Starling knew he did when he thought, and Starling pushed down the desire to gently remove his lip from the abuse. Wherever the detective’s mind went, Starling needed it back here. The other thieves weren’t Sun’s concern- or shouldn’t be, they were more dangerous than Starling was. Not to mention that thieves were possessive and Sun was their detective, no one else’s- and there was still a more pressing matter. Like the bullet still in Starling’s shoulder.

“Detective?” Starling questioned. Sun startled out of his thoughts. His thumb brushed softly against Starling’s shoulder.

“We should fix this,” Sun said, though his voice sounded mostly far away. Starling reached up to grab Sun’s hand and squeeze it. The detective blinked a few times. Slowly, red eyes focused on blue ones. “You wear contacts.”

The statement startled a laugh out of Starling. Of course they wore contacts. Heterochromia was a bit too rare for a phantom thief to have, so Starling wore a blue contact to all their heists. (Or sometimes a brown one, depending on disguises. But by the time the chase began, Starling’s eyes were always back to blue to match their hair.) “Of course. I can’t make it too easy to figure out who I am, can I?”

“I guess you can’t.” Sun smiled and there were dimples and Starling’s heart gave a singular hard ba-dump. That smile was one of the reasons Starling had started to woo the detective. Wherever Sun had gone, he was back now. His hand threaded with Starling’s and he used it to lead the thief to his couch. “Stay here, I’ll get the industrial kit.”

It did not surprise Starling that he had an industrial med kit. Really, Starling wished it did. But it didn’t. He was a self sacrificial moron, always thinking he had to help everyone. Even when it put him in danger. Starling had seen a few of the scars Sun had gotten because of it. The slit in his palm. The slash across his forearm. The starburst in his side. Of course Sun would do it all again if he had to and… Starling could respect that. Even if they didn’t quite like to see their detective hurt so much. They could still respect it. Starling sat and watched Sun’s back as he went to get the kit. He flicked the overhead light on as he left and Starling blinked a little at the light change. Once the detective was gone, Starling looked around the apartment. Brown walls and open space. It was a fairly tiny apartment. Definitely smaller than the one Starling lived in, though they shared the space with others. Sun’s couch was beaten with age and comfortable. An episode of Dragon Ball Z was on at low volume. Starling moved their legs up onto the couch and leaned against the arm, making sure to leave their left shoulder exposed for Sun.

When Sun got back, Starling actually had a moment to be surprised. Enough that it showed on their face- Sun’s eyebrow raised in response. In Starling’s defense they had not expected a medkit that large. It looked like Sun had stolen it off a paramedic truck. Though, given the amount of injuries Sun no doubt got,  Starling thought it likely someone had forced it on him. Honestly Starling could understand.

With Sun’s help, Starling’s shirt was removed so he could get to the hole in their shoulder. “The bullet’s still in here.”

Starling laughed at what felt like the current most obvious statement in the world. The action moved their shoulder and a shot of pain went through it. “Yeah, I can feel it.”

Sun winced. “Right. Let’s deal with that first.”

“Smart.” Probably. At the very least, it will likely be the most painful part of the process and Starling would very much like to get it over with.

Sun talked while he searched for the bullet. He doesn’t stop talking, like if he stopped the wound would magically get worse. Usually Starling only saw the detective on heists, with the occasional case mixed in. Starling forgot how much the detective could talk. Especially when he was nervous. That was the tell Starling knew from the rare moments they’d seen him nervous. It made them want to reach out to Sun. To tell him that it was okay. That they’d be fine- after all, this wasn’t the first wound they’d ever gotten. It wasn’t even the first gunshot wound. Instead, Starling swore as the tweezers hit a nerve. “ Fuck.”

“Sorry.” Sun looked worried again and Starling waved it off.

“It’s fine, you’d be surprised how many stitches I got as a kid.”

“Lots of people shooting at you then?” Sun joked. It was his way to make light of the situation, Starling knew. Though Starling had a feeling it was for his own benefit- not the thief’s.

“Just the normal amount.” Starling smiled at him. He smiled back; too small to see his dimples but enough to make his eyes glitter like the heart of a fire. The bullet is grabbed and removed in the space of more banter. More jokes and thinly veiled accusations of adrenaline seeking that by this point both know are true. Starling denies them anyway. So does Sun. (Perhaps Sun’s denial was a little more fair. It’s no secret between them that Sun finds as much danger as Starling does. Though Sun usually stumbled into it. Like the danger sought him out. And Starling usually searched for or created it. At least, Starling did. Before the first run in with the other thieves.) There’s a light clink as the bullet is placed on a dish Starling hadn’t noticed before with a smattering of blood. It’s both more and less blood than he’d expected. Immediately there’s more pain as Sun presses an alcohol swab against the newly bleeding wound without so much as a word. If Sun hadn’t been holding it, Starling’s arm would’ve jerked. For someone who had been talking the whole time it was a hell of a moment to go quiet. “ Ouch,” Starling said, emphatically.

“My bad,” Sun winced in honest sympathy.

“I thought you didn’t want to hurt people.” Starling pouted at him. In response to their slight overdramatic-ness, Sun rolled his eyes.

“Of course not, asshole. But this is gonna hurt.”

Starling sighed, “I know.”

A needle and thread was sanitized and then the needle began to make its way, stitching up their skin. There wasn’t much for Starling to do except sit there and not wince too much. It was a good thing they were good with pain. Sun mumbled to himself as he worked. There were a few words Starling caught. They were pretty sure the make and model of a gun were some. Which meant they were right, Sun’s mind was partly on the other thieves. A bit of annoyance shot through like the pull of the needle. Right now Sun’s attention should be on Starling, not the three acquaintances. After all, it was their skin he was stitching. Theirwound that he was caring for.

“Why did you come here?” The words were sudden and it took a minute for them to even register for Starling. When they did, Starling blinked. Why? Because they trusted their detective. Because they loved him. Because somehow they didn’t mind the thought of him taking care of them.

“Well, I figured with all the times you get hurt you must be a professional,” Starling said.

Sun paused and looked at them for a moment, thread and needle hovering in the air. “What if I told you I went to a hospital for every injury?” It wasn’t true. Both of them knew it. The needle went back through Sky’s skin.

“I’d say I’d hate to see your medical bills.”

Sun laughed and it pulled at Starling’s skin painfully, but it was worth it to see those dimples and the flash of sharp canines. Thankfully their wince went unnoticed. The needle went through a few more times before the thread was gently pulled on and it was tied off. A bandage was placed over the stitching and gaze wrapped around Starling’s shoulder and chest to keep it in place. Then he packed the supplies back up and… it was done. Starling carefully moved their arm. It was still sore, of course it was, but at least now they didn’t have to worry about it. They stood up off the couch. It was time for them to leave. Suddenly it felt like time passed too quickly. Starling smiled even as they sighed inside and took Sun’s hand. They brought his hand up to their lips and brushed a kiss against his knuckles. 

“Thank you, my dear detective.”  Starling smiled at the pink on Sun’s cheeks, illuminated by the tv’s light. “But I fear this is where I take my leave.” They bowed and vanished to the balcony. The two of them would meet again next heist. Until then, Starling would have the memory of glittering red eyes and freckles standing against a soft blush.

For just a moment, Starling looked back at Sun and mourned the loss of intimacy. Then they dropped off the balcony and into the night.

I Can Feel You Breathing (stay til the daylight)

Once Qrow had gone, Lazuli turned back to him. Apparently she hadn’t really seen the extent of the damage. Or maybe she had and was just echoing previous thoughts. Either way, she gave a heartfelt quiet “cazzo” before heading for the kitchen. Now, Cardin hadn’t actually seen the damage himself. All he’d done was feel it. Frankly at the time that was enough, burning red hot and melting the numb from his legs like they were made of ice as Qrow did his best. Cardin scooted himself up to lean against the arm of the couch so he could look.

Red made four rings around his legs. Two above the knee; two below. The red spread in a wider band then the actual cuts did. They didn’t seem too deep. But Cardin wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to prod them right now. He did anyway. It’s not like it was the first injury he didn’t want to mess with but had to. Though, he guessed this time he didn’t ‘have’ to. A frown pulled at his lips. Was it bad he wished that it was? That he preferred to be alone. To handle this on his own, to not make anyone else have to deal with it. After all, it was his weakness. It was only right he dealt with it himself. As the pads of his fingers gingerly pressed at skin near the cuts, he hissed lightly. At least the pain was duller now. The blood had dried- it was flaky in some areas, likely where it’d been stuck to the fabric makeshift bandages- and it’d have to be cleaned away.

He grit his teeth to stand. Pain shot up his veins, dull like a heartbeat. For a moment he steadied himself on the couch’s arm. Before he could move for the bathroom, Russel’s mamma returned with supplies. A bowl was tucked under her arm, a rag half in the water already, a second rag was over her shoulder, and in her hand she had both a bottle of something that was most likely neosporin and a roll of bandages. The look she shot him was deadly. “Sit.” Lazuli said firmly. Cardin sat. Well, more flopped.

“I can’t believeyou’d get up-” she stopped herself, a hand up, “No, I can. What were you planning? Head to the bathroom, clean up and leave? Before I returned?” She took a breath and Cardin knew she was calming herself. Calm had always seemed her default. And it seeped into those around her. Like just her presence could clear every head in the room. The only time that ever changed was whenever Russel got hurt. (Something that happened both surprisingly often and shockingly seldom.) And… apparently… possibly when he got hurt, too. That wasn’t something he’d expected. The most worry he ever got about any injury was Russel’s concerned eyes when the boy spotted the scars- especially new scars.

Especiallythe burn. The way the brown flecks had swirled in Russel’s eyes. They’d almost changed colour. Bits of gold swirling through a sea of blue. (… no seas, not right now. Later, he’d be able to drift back, but not right now. Just like when he’d gotten the burn and was left unable to make fire related analogies for a short time, the water related illusion grated across his skin.) Gold streaked through a mostly clear sky, painting the undersides of clouds. Almost distracting from the darkness attempting to swirl within. Almost, but not quite. Russel didn’t ask. But he’d seen the way Russel briefly had to bite his tongue against the questions.

“I don’t want you to have to deal with it,” Cardin said, answering all the questions in one. It was odd to see the way Lazuli’s face twisted, trying to figure out whether it wanted to harden or soften. Eventually it settled. The look on her face was soft but the blue of her eyes took on the appearance of tempered glass.

“You’re my kid. I want to do this.” Her voice was as firm as her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this… with anyof this alone.”

“I’m fine,” Cardin said.

“Maybe,” Lazuli said and set to cleaning Cardin’s leg. It throbbed as she worked, but the pain was at a manageable level. The water was warm against his skin. Slowly, as she washed away dried blood, the water in the bowl tinted more and more red. Until the blood was gone. And the bowl seemed stained red. The pain returned when she used the neosporin. It cut hot tingles across his nerves and he hissed. “Sorry,” Lazuli murmured, blowing gently against it. Cardin shook his head but she ignored it in favour of wrapping clean bandages around the wounds. When she was done, she pat his knee and stood. Like it was a signal, Cardin heard the door open. They both looked toward it. Simin entered with Russel trailing just behind him. Cardin pulled his legs close before Russel spotted him.

“Cardin!” Russel broke out from behind his papai. Like Cardin had never shown up at night before. Though, he’d admit usually when they hung out at night Cardin came through the window. He didn’t want to disturb Lazuli or Simin so late. And he… didn’t want to answer any questions. Thankfully, Russel was good at not asking. Instead he’d just open the window and let Cardin crawl in next to him without a word. Without making him feel weak. His friend landed on the couch next to him and his eyes immediately locked onto the bandages. Once again, worry swirled golden through hazel irises. Once again, Russel didn’t ask. This time, though, he looked over to Lazuli. Cardin’s heartbeat shot up in response, worried what Lazuli might say. There wasn’t much she could, he hadn’t told anyone how he’d… ended up where he had. Or how he had. She frowned slightly and Cardin had no hope that she hadn’t been thinking about exactly that. It wasn’t often a huntsman showed up at your house, brought you a teen with rope wounds around their legs, and told you he drowned. Or, Cardin hoped it wasn’t often. The feeling- the pain of feeling slowly coming back from pins and needles to skin rubbed bloody and torn- wasn’t something he’d want anyone else to experience. After a moment, Lazuli shook her head and pulled Simin into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Russel asked once they were alone.

“I’m tired,” Cardin answered with half a smile.

Russel nodded and left the room. One of the blankets from his bed was in his hands when he returned. It was a thick brown blanket just this shade of the bronze with squares sectioned off by lines of silver thread the same shade as Russel’s hair. The blanket was softer than it looked. But just as warm as its cushy appearance said it’d be. He plopped down on the couch and pulled the blanket over them. Cardin lowered his legs when Russel scooted closer. But that’s the most Russel did. If Cardin wanted physical touch in this moment, Russel was there for it, but he’d have to initiate. A small smile curved his mouth. A true smile- the first of the whole day. Somehow Russel could always tell his tactile mood. Could always tell what he needed physically. Cardin shifted closer to him and settled at his side. For a while, Cardin drifted. He’s not even sure if he falls back asleep. But he knew Russel didn’t sleep. Though he wished he did. Between one moment and the next, Russel’s parents were gone and back. Simin sat on the couch next to them.

“Russel, can you leave the room for a time?” Simin asked.

“I don’t-” Russel looked over at Cardin with a frown. To Cardin’s own surprise, he took Russel’s hand. “want to.”

For a moment Simin just looked at them. Then the tiny smile curled his lip. “Alright.” He moved the table closer and sat on it, Lazuli joining him on its edge. “So Cardin, tell us what happened.”

Cardin looked down at his lap, unable to really meet Simin’s earnest red-brown eyes. There was a squeeze around his hand and he glanced up out of the corner of his eye to see Russel smile small. It was encouraging. Though not in the way Cardin knew he’d meant. It was meant to help gently nudge the truth out of him. “Nothing,” he said clearly, though he still didn’t look Simin in the eye.

“You know.” Simin rested his arms against his knees. “Wounds like those don’t usually come from drowning.” The truth behind those words had Cardin flinch, if just barely. “Whatever it was we won’t think lesser of you for it.” He didn’t say anything, just pulled at the skin between his thumb and forefinger. “Filho. Please.” 

He… was really worried about him. A glance up told him they all were. It caused a sensation to creep along his skin, rankling his nerves. All while a very different heat spread out from his chest, different from the instinctual distaste at worryatweakness, filling his stomach and tingling at his fingertips. Embarrassment,

Words slowly clogged his throat.

I was thrown in.

I was tied up.

“I don’t have a semblance.” It came out more tired and less bitter than he’d expect. After all this time, he must’ve accepted it without even realizing. Russel’s parents looked at each other.

“We know,” Simin said.

Cardin looked at them. Vaguely he remembered what Lazuli’d told Qrow. ‘ Low aura. His ma was the same way. ’ (‘Weak.’ Barked. Scoffed. ‘Just like your mother.’ ) “… How did you know about my aura?” How’d you know about my ma’s wasn’t asked, but he thought she heard it.

Instead of answering, Lazuli looked at him. Really looked at him, it seemed. Light blue eyes traced his features. Like she could suss out any lies or half truths. “Is this what thisis about?” She asked gently, gesturing to his knees. Cardin didn’t answer. She sighed. “It’s a part of my semblance. I’m able to track aura.”

Cardin frowned and looked down again. “Then, do you.” There seemed to be a lump in his throat. He swallowed past it. “Do you know what’s wrong with me?”

“Absolutely nothing. Some people are simply born with less aura,” Lazuli said and though the words were soft, they were firm.

“So that’s why-”

“Yes. You just don’t have enough to support a semblance, no matter what happens. And your healing is…” Lazuli gestured to his legs, still under the blanket and tucked close to his chest. “delayed.”

“Like ma,” Cardin said, and he couldn’t help but think of finding out she’d collapsed when she was getting food. About how she’d apparently been sick and how her body had failed to heal. Because she didn’t have enough aura.

Lazuli nodded. “Like your ma.”

And just like that, he’s told he isweak. That he’ll never be strong. Some part of him had already known he was like his ma. That he’d never have a semblance. But it was one thing to feel it inside of you and another for someone to tell you it was true. Before, he thought the weight on his chest would lift with confirmation. He’d be told he’d never get a semblance and the weight would dissipate. It’d fade like it hadn’t really been there, a mess of words untangled to float away. The pain would still be there, of course. With the confirmation it’d probably increase. But the weight would be gone and that’d be enough. Except the weight didn’t leave. It didn’t fade, it didn’t unravel, it didn’t float away to never come back. It simply shifted. Like a cat, finding a new place to settle and get comfortable. A little closer to his lungs. A little snugger against his throat.

A hand squeezed around his. “But that doesn’t make you weak.”

Right. Cardin wanted to scoff, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the sound past his throat.

“I knew your ma. And she was one of the strongest people I ever knew. Even without a semblance. I’ve also seen you. You’re strong Cardin. And you might not believe me now. Or in years. But it’s true. You’re determined and protective and that’s where your strength lies. Now! That’s enough heart to heart for me, you know that’s more Simin’s thing anyhow.” Lazuli clapped her hands on her thighs and winked before she stood up. “Get some sleep, you were dead on your feet when you got here and you were being carried.” 

Cardin stared at her but didn’t argue. There was no point. It was true, he was tired and they both knew it. He tried to hold what she said in his mind and think on it then but it slipped from his grasp. With it, a bit of the weight at his throat.

“Thank you.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

In the morning his body wasn’t on the couch where he’d left it. He wiggled out of Russel’s loose grip, almost rolling off the edge of the bed before he caught his feet under himself. The action hurt his wounds but he gritted past that. Who’d moved him, he wasn’t really sure. (Though he had the feeling it’d been Simin.) Unlike his house, when he woke someone was always already in the kitchen. The smell of bacon wafted out from where Simin stood at the stove. Further down the counter, Lazuli was making chocolate chip waffles. It was Simin who noticed him first.

“Good morning, Cardin,” Simin greeted with a bright smile that he hesitantly, and a bit forcefully, returned.

“You’re awake early,” Lazuli said. “It’s a nice change. Usually I have to drag Russ out of bed.” The smile became a little smaller. A little more forced. This was the first time he’d ever spent the full night. Previously, whenever he visited Russel after the sun had fallen it was through his window and he’d left before the sun had risen once more. As far as they knew neither of Russel’s parents even knew he was ever over at night.

“Though that’s to be expected. You’ve always been an earlier riser, haven’t you?” Simin asked with a twinkle in his eye. He had the feeling those secret nights weren’t as secret as they thought. A bit of panic spiked through him. It wasn’t given time to grow. The spatula waved toward him, flat part twirled in a dismissive circle. “It was never a problem.”

Cardin stared at him, mouth agape. So they hadknown? And said nothing. His mouth clicked shut before they could fully catch his shock. Once again he was hit by just how different his father was from Russel’s parents. He swallowed. If they hadn’t been awake, he would’ve snuck out to return home. Now, though. At least he’d have breakfast before he left. The walk wasn’t far, but his legs still smarted so he wanted to take it slow while he could and it’d be easier to do after eating at least some food.

Russel came out of the room looking wide awake almost the minute breakfast was finished being made. A smile was shared between Cardin and Russel’s parents. The other boy had spectacular timing. “It smells great out here.”

“Thank you, filhinho,” Simin said with a smile and Russel gave him one just as sunny.

“Now that you’re awake, help Cardin get out the juice,” Lazuli said.

“Alright, mamma,” Russel nodded. Cardin already had out the cups, juice, and ice tray which he was twisting to loosen. He grabbed the juice from the table. “You do the ice and I’ll pour?”

Cardin nodded. Together the work went quickly and before Cardin knew it, four cups of juice had joined the plates and silverware. The food was set down right after.

It was… nice, to eat breakfast with others. The table was partly quiet; hazy and soft with the start of the day. The only true noise was Russel’s soft chatter. It filled the spaces between them, made them fluffy with noise. Until Cardin couldn’t really focus on anything but the food and the words and the people. He smiled and breathed easily. Eventually he would have to return to his house. But this was nice while he had it.

‘Eventually’ came with empty plates. It came with helping clear the table and washing the dishes. It came with humming from Simin that eventually morphed into whistling. Cardin looked at the three moving together through the kitchen, a morning dance that each knew, and felt a pang in his heart that he pushed down and away. A part of him didn’t want to leave. He wanted to learn that dance. Wanted to stay for the mornings and the quiets and the colours that weren’t actually there but could be felt in every soft look and unspoken action. But it wasn’t his place. The time had come to go and he closed his eyes. “I'll… go home now.” There’s a pause as Cardin took a moment to get the word out. Because there was more than just this morning. There was last night too. There was Qrow and Lazuli and blood and bandages and half believed encouragements. They’d helpedhim. Lazuli helped him. Simin helped him. Russel helped him. And it was respectable to say after that. It wasn't… out of place here. Not like it would be at his house. But it still wasn’t completely normal for him, not like this when it was basically an admission that he’d been given help. That he’d been weak enough to need help. To accept it without question. “Thank you.”

Worry lit up Russel’s eyes and he averted his own to ignore it, hand still awkwardly gripping the back of the chair. In his peripheral he noticed Simin and Lazuli share a look. “You’re not… going back,” Lazuli said gently. That made him pause, blinking hollowly.

“… what?” His heart started again- it had stopped?- and his first word felt distant, fair from his own ears like it was in a tunnel- but his next were better. Louder; more there. “I have to go back. My father- I have to.”

But did he really?

Of course he had to. It was his father. Since he lived, had an obligation to return home. He’d help the wounds as best he could, wait for them to scar, and continue with training. Just as he always did, nevermind his own desires. The obligation of a Winchester. The destiny of a Winchester. Be strong. Have a strong semblance. Become a strong huntsman.

…

His fingers worried at his sleeve. Of course, he’d already failed at one of those. Failed just by being born, presumably. Too low aura. Not even the capability to develop a semblance. ‘If this doesn’t work don’t bother returning.’ “I have to.” The words sound weak and doubtful, even to his own ears. What would even happen if he returned? Surely he’d still have to follow the rest of the Winchester legacy, even if he failed at one of the most basic steps. Be strong. Become a strong huntsman. But could he even do that, without a semblance? ‘Weak. Just like your mother.’

‘I knew your ma. And she was one of the strongest people I ever knew.’

He breathed. 

Even without a semblance, he could still be a huntsman. It wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t the strength he thought he had. But he had to be, so he would be. There was no other choice for him. The name ‘Winchester’ cemented him there. So he would return. He would become a huntsman like it was required of him and then… And then maybe next time he wouldn’t be saved.

“We talked to Oliver,” Lazuli said and Cardin looked up at her. Something passed through his body. But he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. An omen, maybe. A cocktail of worry and fear and questioning why they’d even do that- a sudden wish that he hadwoken up early like he’d planned to. That he was home already, in his bedroom like he’d never left it and mostly ready for the day. Curiosity to what his father even said and a deep dread at what the words might’ve been. “He said we could- keep you.”

Cardin swallowed. What? Just like that he’d been… given up? Given away? A problem that had no solution, that could only be moved and forgotten about. There was a lump in Cardin’s throat. He didn’t even have the choice to return now, did he? Weak. Unwanted. Unusable. Part of him wanted to curl into a ball. Take that stupid cape with him and sink back to the bottom of the lake where he was warm and floated higher and higher, thoughts far away and unnecessary. His fingers dug into his sleeve and his teeth bit into the inside of his lip. He blinked, and his eyes met red. It was like Simin could see past him, yet he didn’t. Simin looked like he could but he chose to look right at Cardin instead.

“It will be different,” Simin said and the words sounded kind. “But we hope it’ll be a good kind of different.”

He blinked. And the other half of the sentence, the other half of the meaning filtered in. ‘We could keep you.’ They- But he was broken and weak. A future huntsman without something as basic as a semblance. Someone who could never even develop one.

A glance over at Russel, who smiled small at him and kicked his ankle under the table. Not meanly, just… there. A simple touch, a small connection, so Cardin knewhe was there.

‘We could keep you.’

They wanted to keep him. Against all odds they actuallywanted to keep him.

“Why?” Cardin asked. He wasn’t sure where to look, who to look at, but he had to know. “Why?”

Simin put a hand in front of Cardin, for him to take if he chose to. Cardin didn’t move. “You’re a part of this família. We care about you, Cardin. And we want you here. For more than just a night.”

 It felt like he was reeling. Like he’d been tossed into the sky to fall only to be thrown back upwards before he could hit the ground, again and again. If he hadn’t just woken an hour ago, he’d go back to bed. Russel reached out and this time, he took the hand offered him.

“I think it’ll be nice, to have you. It’ll be fun, we’ll be brothers!” Russel smiled at him and even now, his joy was a bit infectious. Soothing. He swallowed.

“Why would I want to give you more opportunities to annoy me?” Cardin asked, tightening his hold on Russel.

“Because you know I enjoy it,” Russel said. “And because you know you’re not getting rid of me at this point. No matter what you do, you’re stuck with me.”

And Cardin knew it was true. There was no uncertainly there- not with the rare show of stubbornness on Russel’s face. He was stuck with Russel. No choice given. It was comfortable and warm, suddenly. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Lazuli asked.

“I’ll… stay. Past the night,” Cardin said. All three seemed to breath at once, something relieved that still left Cardin confused. But maybe for right now, that was okay. Right now he had someone he knew truly believed he would stick by him. Right now, he believed it too. And maybe that was all that mattered. 

Maybe one day, it would be okay. And next time, he wouldn’t have to be saved.