Work Text:
Peter stumbles into his suite, he had barely made it up without attracting the wrong kind of attention, his entire side coated in blood, only camouflaged because his clothes are black. The last thing he needs is anyone trying to help him, they’d ask too many questions, questions he just didn’t have the patience for.
He’s still not sure how he managed to get home, all things considered.
As soon as the door is latched behind him, he sinks to the floor, knees giving out. He groans, the fall jarring his injuries.
He gingerly lets the pressure off his side, gasping in pain as he peels away his coat. Through the hole in his shirt, he can see a deep gash, still oozing blood, even an hour later.
Looking down makes his head spin, the blood loss getting to him. He breaths in through his nose, fighting through the dizziness, and the ringing in his ears, he doesn’t even notice that he’s not alone.
“Peter?” Lucian exclaims, he’d known Peter had returned as soon as he stepped foot on the hotel floor, and grew nervous when the next smell that flooded his senses was blood. A lot of blood.
Peter's eyes open slowly.
“Lucian?” Peter slurs, he wasn’t expecting Lucian to be around for some time. He had left to take care of some business with a pack of lycans across the country, leaving Peter on his own. “S’that really you?”
“Yes?” Lucian says, striding quickly to Peter’s side, hands wondering, searching for the source of blood. “What happened?”
“A ghoul.” He says, groaning as Lucian lifts his arm away from his side, lifting his shirt in the process. “Thought I could take care of it.”
“This looks bad.” Lucian says, gently prodding around the oozing wound. He looks up when Peter gasps, somehow the man has gotten even paler than he was a moment ago. His eyes start to roll back in his head. “Oh no, you stay awake.” Lucian gently taps his cheek.
Peter fights to pry his eyes open, but it’s hard, he’s so tired.
“How long ago?” Lucian asks, pressing Peter’s shirt back over the wound and applying some pressure.
“Hour maybe?”
“And it’s still bleeding.” Lucian says, mostly to himself, he’s actually impressed that Peter is still as lucid as he is. “You’ve lost entirely too much blood.”
Lucian hefts Peter up bridal style, the man going limp against him. He carries him into the living room, and puts him on the couch, leaving him to find some supplies. Thankfully he’s able to find a well stocked medical kit.
He kneels next to Peter, cutting his mangled t-shirt away.
“Sorry about this.” Lucian says before he plunges a finger into the stab wound, Peter’s reaction is immediate and visceral, a strangled scream wrenching itself from his chest.
“Fuck.” Lucian curses, continuing to prod around the wound. “It’s deep, but there’s nothing stuck inside.”
“Jesus fucking christ,” Peter sobs, one hand coming to weakly grip Lucian’s wrist, trying and failing to stop him. “Stop, that fucking hurts.”
“I have to check, if there’s anything left inside, it’ll get infected.” Lucian explains, extracting his finger, pressing clean gauze over the wound. “You’re lucky it didn’t hit anything important.”
“Lucky, yeah…” Peter slumps boneless against the couch.
“We’ll have to stitch this up.” Lucian says, pulling out the small suture kit he was lucky to find.
“Great.” Peter groans, “At least get me a shot of midair first.”
“I don’t think so,” Lucian says. “Not with your blood lost.”
“Oh come on.” Peter whines. “Please.”
“No.” Lucian swiftly threads a needle, well practiced at home brew stitches. “It only needs a few, you’ll survive.”
Lucian makes quick work of disinfecting Peter’s wound, the other man complaining the whole time.
When he makes the first stitch, Peter yells and then passes out.
”Small mercies.” Lucian thinks to himself, quickly stitching and bandaging the wound.
———————————-
Peter wakes up tucked in his bed. He stretches, only for the motion to be aborted midway, pain lancing through his side.
He yelps, curling up on his side. When he feels fingers in his hair, he opens his eyes to find Lucian next to his bed.
“Hey.” He says, his voice raspy, he feels all dried and shriveled up inside.
“Hey yourself.” Lucian says, running his fingers through Peter’s hair, the other man leaning in to the touch. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like shit.” Peter sighs. “Side hurts. Feel dizzy.”
“That’s the blood loss,” Lucian explains, helping Peter to sit up, propping a few pillows around him. “Drink this, it’ll help.” He hands Peter a bottle of blue Gatorade.
Peter opens the bottle and takes a small sip, then gulps down almost the whole bottle, panting when he’s done.
“Thank you.” Peter says, already sounding better. “I thought you’d be gone for a while.”
“Managed to get things settled quickly,” Lucian says. “Good thing too, or you’d have bleed out in your foyer. What were you thinking?”
“That it was supposed to be easy,” Peter says, sounding a little petulant “That I could handle it on my own.”
“Obviously you couldn’t.”
“There was a kid, got distracted, not my fault.”
“Peter, if I hadn’t been here, you would probably have died.”
“Nahhh, Listen, I killed the damn thing, kid is safe, I would have been fine.”
“Hmm, I’m not even sure how you even made it home to be honest, it’s a miracle you didn’t crash your car.”
“Fine, fine, I’m sorry, ok?” Peter says, feeling a little bit guilty now. “I’ll be more careful next time.”
“That’s all I ask.” Lucian says, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I don’t want to lose you over some impulsive decision.”