Chapter Text
Heavy oak crashed into brick. Tramping inside Tim shook off clumps of mud and clotted blood as he walked. Other residents be damned he just spent three days in the company of his least favorite person in the world. Not that it mattered, at this time of day most of the manor would be sleeping or out on their own conquests
Vaguely he was aware of the other proxies trailing behind him but other than Kate who he nodded at as she slipped up to her room, he didn't bother acknowledging them. Gently he felt Brian nudge at his shoulder pointing at the stairs. Tim nodded watching his friend retreat to their shared room. About to follow, 130 pounds of lanky teen hit his back almost knocking him to the floor.
"What the fuck Rodgers?" Tim bucked trying to shake off the boy who had wrapped two strong arms around his neck and was currently clinging to his back like his life depended on it, which, considering Tim was literally going to murder him when he fell off, wasn't too far of a stretch.
"Maskyyyy," A nasally voice whined back at him legs clenching even tighter around his waist. "I'm bored."
"Get off of me!" He snarled clumsily aiming sharp elbows behind him. Toby didn't even bother avoiding his blows cackling as bone met soft flesh. With a twist he managed to knock the proxy off, onto the floor, where he lay chuckling.
"Asshole," Tim muttered flipping him off as went to his room.
By the time he had made it inside an uncomfortable moistness had sunk into his back where Toby had been. "What was he doing? Rolling in mud? It feels warm." He muttered walking to his closet. However, realization struck freezing him in place. With abandoned frenzy he began struggling with his jacket swearing all the while.
"I swear to God if he peed on me!" Reduced to only his under shirt he flipped his jacket in his hands trying to find the source of the wetness.
His hand hit something moist almost immediately. Jerking away Tim saw the palm of his hand was stained red. Furrowing his brow he turned the fabric around. The entire back of his jacket was soaked in blood, more than what should be there for a simple retrieval mission. Tim tried to ignore the worry that shot through him.
What were the chances that this wasn't Toby's blood? The odds were a lot lower than he'd like to admit. He should probably check on him.
Tim hesitated for another moment. Just because there was a chance that the guy was dying from blood loss didn't mean that he had to check on him. There were always other pastas to send. Creeps who drank blood, and tortured for fun, and would be more than happy to feast on an unwitting victim...
Damn him for being one of the few people in the house with an actual conscience.
Waiting for another few seconds in hope that the growing worry festering in the pit of his stomach would drop like a teenage boys balls he finally gave in. Shrugging on a new jacket he sludged across the hall to Toby’s room. Not even bothering to knock he managed to push the door with a little force.
"Rodgers, you in here?" After a second of silence Tim cautiously poked his head in, on the lookout for any hatchets aimed at his face.
Dirty clothes and old food containers littered the floor, which explained the difficulty opening the door. In the center of the chaos lay the proxy in question surrounded by a puddle of red.
In an instant Tim was at his side hoisting Toby onto his shoulder. He pulled him into the bathroom sitting him on the toilet before taking off the stained hoodie.
Tim sucked in a gasp. Underneath his bulky jacket Toby was unhealthily scrawny, with thick raised scars that looked painful to touch and were almost hard to see beneath the layer of blood smeared on his chest. All of it seemed to originate from the hole that started below his right ribcage which continued to gush as Tim stared.
How had he not noticed this?
Quickly he tied the ruined sleeves around Toby hoping to slow the bleeding before diving under the sink only to find cobwebs and rotten meat. Of course, the younger boy wouldn't have any first aid equipment.
“Damn moron,” Tim hissed running back to his room to get his medical kit. Brian who was laying on his bed, shot up. He opened his mouth, but the brunet shook his head.
"Tell you later.”
He raced back down the hall only to freeze in the bathroom. Toby was the picture of death. He slumped against the bathroom wall blood dripping through the thick fabric on his chest. Not even the tics that haunted him in his sleep moved him. Then Toby’s chest rose. Tim let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Toby was okay, he was going to be okay.
Wasting no time, he grabbed the gauze only to realize that he didn’t know where to start. Passed out as Toby was and absolutely no help it would be impossible to sit him straight.
Tim really wished Jack or Brian were here. They were better at this kind of stuff. But while Tim certainly wasn’t EJ when it came to medical shit, he also wouldn’t try to eat Toby, so he guessed there was its own set of pros and cons.
Finally, he decided to pick the brunette up and slide under him so that Toby could sit on his lap and rest against his chest. He carefully disinfected the wound and bandaged his chest. That would have to do until Toby could get some real help, although knowing the proxy’s infamously low recovery time he’d probably be trying to run around the next day. Tim put the bandages back onto the counter and looked at the man currently slumped across his chest. The sight of the normally hyper guy actually relaxed was almost endearing. Or it would have been if wasn't leaking blood, drool, and bad life choices everywhere.
Now that the adrenaline wore off Toby felt a lot heavier and it was only through sheer determination that Tim got the nineteen-year-old onto his unmade bed. He decided to leave the mess in the bathroom. Let Toby clean it up. Now that he wasn’t immediately going to die Tim felt annoyance creep into him. Toby was lucky he was such a nice person; a better pasta would have just put him out of his misery.
While Tim waited for Toby’s breathing to even out, he studied the man in front of him. Without the stupid grin that was usually plastered from ear to ear, he looked different, more unguarded. Almost without thinking he reached out and ran his fingers through surprisingly soft hazel hair.
Toby shifted in his sleep. Tim flew back like a startled animal waiting for any signs that the chatty guy would wake up. When the brunet showed no signs of moving Tim sighed settling into a more relaxed pose. He didn’t think his reputation could ever live down anyone knowing that he didn’t completely hate the guy, besides it was best that no one knew that he still felt, safer.
Taking one last glance at Toby, he walked out the door.