Chapter Text
In Rook’s defense, he was usually better at sneaking back into the dorm than this. He also usually didn’t have a mangled arm when sneaking in after a hunt, but c’est la vie, non?
He’d been called down to the port to take care of a full-grown direbeast that made its way into town and was wreaking havoc on the night market stalls. He managed to immobilize the beast and protect the shopkeepers, but not before it got a good tear on his arm. He managed to wrap it with a bandanna he keeps for such emergencies, but he could barely move it and it was clear that he was going to need to treat it properly soon.
This was why he was oh-so-carefully entering the dorm through the kitchen window. It was the closest to his room where he could use his first aid kit and then watch some Drag Race while he waited for the pain killers to kick in so he could go to sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t careful enough, and in his blood loss induced stupor, bumped his arm against the window frame.
“Merde!” He hissed.
“Rook?”
“Zut alors!”
Standing across from the kitchen window was Epel, holding a nearly empty glass of water. Rook quickly angled himself in hopes of hiding his marred arm from his underclassman.
“Monsieur Pommette!” He greeted cheerfully, “I see you are also awake at this hour!”
“Whu-?” Epel’s eyes became as wide as saucers as he finally processed what he was seeing.
Rook remembered he was still in hunting gear and was wearing a dark green parka that had clearly seen better days, especially given the large tear in the right sleeve that had a blood soaked bandanna poking out of it. His leggings were also torn and his boots were caked with mud. It also didn’t help that he had his bow, quiver, and a guitar case that very much did not have a guitar in it slung across his good shoulder. It was very clear that he’d been out hunting, which was not ideal when his job is supposed to be a covert operation.
“Whuu- Whut in the seven’s names happened to you!?” Epel panicked, “Did ya lose a fight with a rabid grizzly bear!? Oh sevens! Wait here, A-Ah’m gonna go get mah shoes, we’re goin’ to the infirm’ry—“
“Non!” Rook panicked, “Non, Ne pas d'infirmières—” He coughed and corrected himself, “ah, no. No need for the infirmary, Monsieur Pommette, I have sufficient materials to patch myself up with in my room.” He slumped against the window frame in hopes of staving off the dizziness of blood loss, it did not work.
“Rook, yur gonna pass out ‘fore you even get there. I don’t know what you’ve got against the infirm’ry but yur gonna hafta—ow!”
Epel was interrupted by a phone flashlight being shined in his face, “What are you spudlings yelling about at 3 o’clock in morning!?”
The two turned to see a half-awake Vil with one hand on his hip and the other shining his phone at them. Now, Rook had told his boyfriend what his family does and their responsibilities, however he did not mention that he was still taking on hunts during the school season. Vil was already busy with housewarden duties and Rook hadn’t wanted to worry him, much like he doesn’t want to worry him right now.
“Ah, mon étoile, ça va?” He wheezed. He tried to play it cool, hoping Vil wasn’t awake enough to realize what was going on.
“Rook’s bleeding all over the kitchen and won’t lemme take his dumb ass to the infirm’ry.”
Damn it.
“One, Epel, Language. Two, Rook, what’s going on? What happened to your arm?”
“Rien mon amour, juste une mauvaise égratignure” he mumbled. The adrenaline from the battle had fully worn off and he just felt tired and dizzy, he wasn’t even sure the last few sentences he said were in Common Roseian. He probably started speaking Fleur on instinct.
“A scratch?” Vil translated, “Sevens, did you go on one of those ‘hunts’ by yourself?” He got a closer look at Rook’s arm “Shiii- Where’s your first aid kit?” He moved to help Rook in through the window.
“Oui,” Rook relented, accepting Vil’s help, “C’est dans ma chambre. Sous le lit”
“Epel, please go get that while I get him inside.”
“Uh sure! But uh where’d he say it was? Ah caught that it was in his room but Ah didn’t understand that last part.” Epel asked.
Yep, he was definitely speaking Fleur.
“Under his bed,” Vil supplied. “Now go”
Epel ran to grab the kit while Vil guided Rook to the couch. Vil left to grab a towel while Rook set down his bow and ““guitar”” and gingerly removed his parka to get a better look at the damage. He hissed as he slid his arm out of the sleeve and set the jacket on the floor, careful to avoid getting blood on the rug. The bandanna was completely soaked through; it must’ve loosened on the way home.
Vil returned with the towel at the same time Epel returned with the first aid kit. They sat down on either side of him, ready to help in any way they could.
“D’accord…” Rook steeled himself, “J’ai—hum—I- I need to look” he managed to say in Common. Epel untied the bandanna, revealing a deep claw shaped gash across his bicep.
Yep, that was going to need stitches.
“Merde,” he hissed. “Bien sûr… Of course it needs stitches.” He sighed, “pass me the needle of sewing and thread s’il vous plaît?” He held out his hand expectantly.
“Aw heck naw!”
“Absolutely not.” Vil gently grabbed Rook’s arm and started gently cleaning it with the towel. “There is no way in Tartarus that I am going to let you sew up your own arm in this state,” he said quite matter-of-factly, “We haven’t even cleaned the wound yet, and I will not have my vice wandering around with an infected injury on my watch.”
“Yeah!” Epel chimed in. “B‘sides, Ah know how to sew ya up just fine,” He smirked.
Rook chucked “Mon dieu, what would I do without you two?”
“Prolly die.”
“Epel!”
After Rook’s wounds were treated and bandaged, the trio spent the rest of the night watching the Sea Witch’s Drag Race and it was divine. And if they all fell asleep on the couch together, then their dormmates decided it would be best not to mention it.
Since when did Rook play guitar though?