(via iures)
(via iures)
(Source: fuckyeahuncharted)
The fortune seeker knew he could not argue the other’s words. They were both in no shape to be moving around, to be hunting as they both wanted. Though it frustrated the younger, he understood the reckless endangerment he’d be putting both of them in should he even argue the point. Instead, for once, he gave in entirely. Nodding lightly at Flynn’s words, his gaze had shifted to the far wall before slowly finding their way back to the conman’s features, his lips pursing together.
“This is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
…and it had been.
For several weeks Nate was bed ridden. Of course, a lot of the time his body had spent healing he had been sleeping, and constant slumber had become almost a daily routine. He knew Flynn was healing, or in the process just as he had been and it helped ease his eagerness to remove himself from allowing his body to do so.
Today, however, the fortune seeker was up with the doctor, walking around and getting his physical therapy he’d been going through. It was easier for him to move on his own, and he was confident enough to wander the bar without feeling as though he would collapse.
Although he wasn’t 100%, he still felt a hell of a lot better. Having had taken the stairs when the physician had left, he eyed the conman whom was sitting within one of the chairs within the vicinity. Tilting his head, the hunter slowly approached him, giving a light smile.
“Did Doc take a look at your shoulder?”
“We’ll get through this chum, together.”
Harry stayed alongside Nate every step of the healing process, helping him wherever he could. The conman spent a lot of time by Nate’s side, and while the seeker slept Harry was researching as much as he could. The con was getting in touch with old contacts, preparing for their oncoming adventure, and making sure he kept tabs on Giovanni’s progress. The cartel had been injured in their last encounter; therefore Harry knew his old partner wasn’t able to get a move on either.
While Nate was getting his weekly check up from the Doc, the conman was sitting at one of the many tables in the bar. He brushed through a few of the books he had snagged from the local library, a pen scribbling in Harry’s own journal as he continued to take notes. Every so often, the thief glanced at his lover and gave a light smile at the fact Nate seemed to be doing better.
As for Harry’s shoulder? It was healing, just like the rest of him. He had managed to get his body back into its original state from before the explosion. His muscle had returned, the regular color of his skin was back once again, and Harry was starting to feel like his old self. These past couple of weeks had been just what the conman had needed to restore his old self.
Hearing Nate’s words, Harry looked up from the book in front of him. A smile crossed his lips as he took hold of Nate’s arm, and tugged the smaller hunter into his lap. The con nuzzled his face into Nate’s neck, kissing lightly before pulling back to look at him.
“Yeah, he said it’s healing perfectly,” The con replied with a nod, “just like you are it would seem.”
“You’re bored?” Nate asked, astonished. After having that scrap with Giovanni again, the other was amazed that Flynn would even use that word within his vocabulary. Pursing his lips together, he turned his head toward him as he let his crystal optics lace with the russet beneath him. “You get shot, and you’re ‘bored’.”
The fortune hunter couldn’t help the chuckle that passed his lips in disbelief. He shook his head as he tore his eyes from the opposing man, brows knitting as he leaned back further against the headboard. His hand had gently taken a hold of the conman’s, holding it firmly within his grasp though his mind was preoccupied with thoughts, some of them quite reckless.
“We could start now.” He spoke, quickly. He almost knew the answer that would come.
Harry’s arm would be in a sling again for a while, and Nate—well he was in no shape at all to be running around. However, his restless mind ignored those notions and instead hopped on the conman’s words in hopes that it would free him from this immobilized prison.
He was just as eager, if not more, as Harry was to begin their next hunt.
“Yeah, after being blown up I mean c’mon getting shot is nothing,” Harry chuckled, sitting up next to the seeker. The feel of Drake’s hand in his own made Harry ease his head back against the headboard, and he closed his eyes. Despite everything that had been happening, the conman was completely relaxed whenever his lover was near. Ignoring Nate’s statement for a moment, Harry rested his head upon the seeker’s shoulder.
Lifting his head for a moment, he sighed pressing his lips against the man’s temple, “Sweetheart, you can’t walk. I want to get going, I want to be on this adventure with you but we can’t…not now.”
Harry eased his arm over the other man’s shoulder, pulling him closer to his own frame, “Look, I can’t even move properly and I’ll need my rest for a few days. I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you for a few more days.”
Without another word, he pressed his lips to Nate’s and held him close again. He knew the seeker’s pride was shot to hell, and Harry wasn’t to ease whatever pain the other man was feeling.
The younger seeker found himself shaking his head as the other had snapped at him with such intent. It brought him to silence long before the physician had gotten to the small vicinity. Watching the man tend to Harry’s wound; he had winced at hearing the conman cry out as he had. His head shook, trying to keep his mind occupied, though all it surrounded was the fact that his lover was suffering, and it concerned him.
After the time had passed whilst the doctor cleaned up and dressed the wound as much as he could, Nate had pulled himself up onto the mattress, letting himself sit as he kept his back turned slightly to the other man. He could hear his harsh breathing, and Nate didn’t want him to see the look of misery along his own visage the sounds brought about.
At the conman’s words, his brows knit together as he reached over enough to grab the man’s hand, allowing his digits to slide deftly and take a hold of his own. “I wasn’t mad at you to begin with, Flynn.” He stated, his gaze lowering to the floor. “Just worried.”
Feeling the seeker’s hand in his own, Harry opened his eyes and looked up at the other man. Reaching his free hand up, Harry grabbed hold of Nate’s neck and pulled him down towards him. Pressing his lips against his lover’s, he held him there for a moment before breaking the kiss once again. Pulling his hand from Nate’s, the conman climbed to his feet before joining the lover on the bed. Harry rested his head against Nate’s shoulder, closing his eyes again.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” He said softly, grabbing hold of Drake’s hand again. His thumb brushed gently over his lover’s skin and he opened his eyes to focus on their hands together, “we need to go on this hunt soon, I’m getting tired of being shot at for no particular reason.”
The con chuckled at his own words before pressing his lips lightly against Nate’s neck, “Feeling a bit on the bored side too. Though, I have plenty entertainment right here.” He quickly wrapped his arm around Nate’s waist, pulling the other man down onto the bed keeping in mind the injury the seeker still had on his side.
The con sat up, placing his hand on the other side of the seeker and looked down at him, “Don’t worry about me so much, alright? You’re going to get gray hairs and that’s not attractive at all chum.”
(via iures)
“You never have an ‘intention’ of sacrificing yourself but you do it anyways.” Nate spoke indomitably; somehow he knew the conman couldn’t dispute those words. It was another common ground they shared, at least now. The fortune seeker knew Harry Flynn hadn’t always been this selfless, and in some ways that touched him as most of those tendencies regarded him; unfortunately, it also terrified him.
His gaze moved to the assailant that still lied dead within the room. Lately Nate had been having more men in his bedroom than he liked. He quirked a brow at his own thoughts, his lips pursing together whilst he spoke, “Flynn, you know I can take care of myself… and you know I can help you… so don’t wound my pride more by acting like I’m some helpless damsel, alright?” Putting emphasis on the words, he tilted his head. “alright?”
Sighing softly, he shook his head as he heard the other’s lack of wanting this dispute to continue—he himself had grown exhausted to it, as well. Letting his crystal optics focus on the russet of the other’s, he removed his hand lightly from his shoulder-blade, only glancing lightly to the cloth and the blood upon it.
“Alright, the subject is dropped. Do me a favor, though, and stop getting shot.” Musing that, he gave a light smile. It would only be a few moments until the physician arrived and aided Flynn’s gaping wound.
“Damn it, I’m not treating you like a damsel!” Harry snapped, glaring at the other man, “I’m just facing reality here!”
Harry groaned, leaning back against the bed and grabbing his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, only to hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Harry’s fingers gripped his Desert, aiming at the doorway only to see the familiar old physician standing there.
“Easy there cowboy,” The man stated, holding his hand up while the other still held his medical bag, “You two are doing a great job at keeping me entertained.”
Harry dropped the gun and eased back against the bed allowing the old man to enter the room. The con watched as he started sifting through his bag, pulling out the tools he needed to treat the entry wound in Harry’s shoulder.
“I’m not gonna lie to you kid, this ain’t gonna feel good,” The old man stated before going to work. His first move was to get the bullet out of Harry’s shoulder, which hurt like hell. Harry’s fingers clutched at the floor, sharp cries of pain escaping his lips and his russet optics screwed shut. It felt like hours before the old man had finished his work and departed.
Harry was exhausted by the end of it, his whole body felt worn out and torn apart. The conman was slumped against the bed, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. The white bandage over the wound was stained red despite the stitching the doctor had provided. “Are you done being angry with me yet?” Harry questioned, opening his eyes to look at the seeker.
Hearing the conman’s words, the other shot a glare in his direction, his lips pulling into a thin line. Nate held his own share of impulsive tendencies, and was he being a hypocrite regarding the subject? Yes, he was. However, at the moment that notion barely seemed to faze him. Keeping his hands steady against Flynn’s chest, the scowl lingered on his features as his gaze eased to the bullet wound.
At the man’s protest, the hunter recoiled his hand just slightly with the affirmation of the grip around his wrist. Arching a brow, he shook his head, slowly. “Well getting shot isn’t supposed to feel good, Flynn.” He retorted.
Nate had to admit that hearing that he’d given Giovanni a taste of his own medicine was satisfying, but he hated the price satisfaction usually cost… this time, it was Harry’s shoulder. “If you’d stop squirming so damn much it wouldn’t hurt so bad.” The seeker stated, his crystal optics slowly rising to meet the russet, once again.
“Look.” He began. “Let’s just face it. You would have died if I didn’t step in—and I would have died a lot of times if you hadn’t stepped in.” Pausing, he sighed. “Let’s just admit that we need each other and stop pulling this self-sacrificing crap, alright?” Nate’s head shook as he continued to gently apply pressure. “You need me; I need you… all we’re going to keep doing is hurting each other.”
“Really now?” Harry quirked an eyebrow when Nate had pulled his hand back, “I heard otherwise, apparently getting shot is better than sex.” He chuckled, but it was cut off by another sharp gasp in pain and his grip on the seeker’s wrist tightened. Any sort of natural movement was painful to him, and he knew that would just worry Nate even more.
The conman was already in for a lecture, and Harry wasn’t looking forward to it at all. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes when the lecture began. He understood where the seeker was coming from, but Harry wasn’t willing to let Nate put himself in danger just yet. The other man was in no shape to be caught up in a battle like this, and Flynn was pretty sure he would have been alright on his own. The extra help had been appreciated, but the conman had been in worse scraps then the one that had just occurred outside.
“I had no intention on sacrificing myself,” Harry commented when Nate had finished, “just trying to look out for you. You’re right, I do need you and I also need you alive. Face it Nate, right now you can’t run around shooting people to bits. What you did was fine, but Christ, if you weren’t so damn lucky I’d be without you right now.” Flynn pointed at the dead assassin in the corner, his russet gaze focused on the other man, “For a moment, I thought you were dead Nate…and if I hadn’t been in such a blind rage, I would have let Giovanni kill me or take me.”
The con eased back against the bed, closing his eyes for a moment, “I don’t feel like fighting right now, or debating, or whatever the hell we’re doing.”
Gab’s 25 Favorite Games in no particular order → Uncharted
(Source: sherlock-is-my-division, via thewanderingknight)
