bakerstreet | minor injury meme.

minor injury meme.

You or your meme partner has been hurt, but don't worry! This time around it's not that bad. You can still limp your way out of this mess.

INJURIES.
1. Sprain/strain. How did you screw up walking?
2. Broken bones. Simple fractures still hurt.
3. Cuts. Hopefully one of you has a sewing kit.
4. Burns. Location, location, location. Let's pray this one isn't on your ass.
5. Concussion. No, they're most likely not holding up fifteen fingers.
6. Other. I'm not a doctor.

HOW'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Stupidity. You did this to yourself.
2. Accident. Is an unintentional attack still an attack?
3. Attack. Don't lie, you deserved it.
4. Other. It's probably still your own fault.

WHERE'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Home. Did you remember to invest in a first aid kit?
2. School/Work. This should be excellent for getting you out of doing stuff!
3. Outdoors. Predators like the smell of blood. Clean up asap.
4. In the water. Hopefully there aren't any sharks!
5. Other. Like a hospital. That'd be handy.

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[Muttered under her breath:] Yes, Mom...

[She blinked at his lackluster reaction. Alright, so her joke wasn't funny. She knew that. It'd been a poor attempt at injecting brevity into the situation, and he obviously wasn't in the mood for it. Even so, his shortness with her was a bit... startling. She figured he was upset, but not this upset, considering he was usually the one to crack jokes at awkward moments. She fell quiet then as he dabbed at her hand, her mouth only curling into a small grimace as her wounds reacted to the new sensation.

His next words set alarm bells off in her head, though. Her tone carried a note of warning in it.]

Lucifer... he's already rotting in jail. Don't.

Edited 2016-06-02 05:55 (UTC)

Don't what? Teach a man how one should treat a woman? It's a lesson he apparently sorely needs.

[As much as his words were terse and clipped, he was as gentle as one could be as he tended to her, carefully smearing nasty smelling ointment on one hand before he reached for the bandages to start to wind around it.]

I taught him plenty of that on my own, trust me. I don't want you to get involved. The last thing I need is being out of commission and dealing with you being charged for aggravated assault.

[She barely glanced at her hands as she spoke, already know he'd do the job right caring for her. She was focused on his face, at trying to read him so she could figure out how to approach this.]

They'd have to catch me doing anything first.

[Implying they wouldn't. And he could ensure that. A quick slip in and out when no one was looking. He wouldn't kill the man. Not for just harming her -- even if a part of him really wanted to. But terrify him beyond all reasoning? Look at what he'd done to the last man to lay a hand on her. To the one who'd almost ended her life.]

I think you're forgetting a very key fact here, which is that I'm a part of that 'they'.

[He was incredibly important to her, yes, but at the end of the day, she would have to do everything in her power to uphold the law. She couldn't just knowingly allow him to stroll in there and harm someone, especially for her sake. She did remember what happened to Jimmy, far more than she liked to talk about; she'd seen the way he slammed his head into the glass before she'd blacked out, had glimpsed that brokenness in him when she went to go see him after. She's seen him throw someone through a window. Hell, she's seen him miraculously lift someone over three feet off the ground with his bare hands in a fit of rage. And while she understood anger, she needed him to understand that this wasn't how she did things. Not how they did things.]

Not if you're here, tucked safely in bed.

[He couldn't quite manage a smile at that, finishing the wrapping on one hand and moving to take the other to start applying ointment to it.]

You can no more control me than I you, Detective. All I can promise is that I'll not kill him. I wouldn't go that far.

I'm not trying to control you, I'm trying to reason with you.

[Her irritation began to slowly bubble up again, because now he was putting her in a difficult position. Why couldn't he just deal with things like a normal person? Oh, because he was the 'Devil'. Right. She didn't pull her hand away from him entirely, but her fingers began to curl in over her palm to make it harder to apply the ointment. If he was going to be difficult, then so would she.]

See, that's your problem, Lucifer. You say you wouldn't 'go that far,' but simply not killing someone doesn't mean you're not already crossing the line. You're not above the law just because you don't like it.

Man's law is made for Man, of which I am not, therefore, it doesn't apply to me. Would you throw a lion in a cage for eating a gazelle? No. And I'm not killing him, Detective. I'm punishing him. That is what I do, after all. It's been my entire purpose for ten billion years. I'm incredibly good at it. Asking me not to punish the wicked is like asking you not to...

[He snapped his mouth closed, pursing his lips as he kept himself from finishing that. He gave her an exasperated look as she intentionally made it more difficult for him to put the ointment on her, waiting with remarkable patience for her to uncurl her fingers so he could get to them. Doing it himself would cause her undo pain, and that was something he couldn't do.]

And you call me immature... open your bloody hand.

Wow. You are unbelievable. You really can't see past your ego and notice just how arrogant you sound right now? You're really going to compare a wild animal chasing prey for food to you getting... what, petty revenge? What good will that do? Contrary to your belief, you do not have the right to decide who gets punished and how. 'Man's law doesn't apply to me'? There's that God-complex rearing its ugly head again.

[She shot him a glare as if to dare him to finish that sentence. And while she knew she was being petulant, he'd struck a nerve somewhere, and she found herself far less willing to indulge him in his want to tend to her as her patience ran out. If he was going to act this way, she would rather deal with it herself. She'd choose the hassle over it any day. She carefully tried to extract her hand from his grasp, her lips pulled into a thin line.]

Or what? You'll punish me?

I've told you once, Detective, I've no such thing. And yet you insist on flinging His actions at me, as if I've any say in the matter.

[He didn't let go of her wrist, but he was still careful as he held it, meeting her angry gaze with one of his own.]

Contrary to your fantasies, you're not as bad as you like to think you are. Certainly not bad enough to require my punishment, though I'm certainly thinking about taking you over my knee. Even if I might get distracted-- would you bloody well hold still and open your bloody hands?

Everyone has a say in their own actions. And you know, for someone who keeps railing against God, you've certainly got the high and mighty act down perfectly.

[Did he-- really, Lucifer?]

Seriously? Why is everything always a joke with you?

[She struggled a bit more against his hold to no avail. While normally she wouldn't have any issue getting out of his grip, the stitches made it difficult to maneuver without harming herself. Didn't stop her from trying.] Let. Go.

No.

[He was holding her firmly, well above her injuries, but secure enough that she wouldn't be able to pull free. There was a sickening drop in his stomach as he narrowed his eyes at her, something that was a kissing cousin to fear dancing up his spine.]

You are a pig-headed, obstinate woman who refuses to see what's right in front of her because it doesn't fit into the neat little world you've deluded yourself into thinking exists. You're hurt. While you're hurt, you're going to let someone else take care of you. As you haven't the common sense He gave to most of His creatures, that seems to mean me, as if I sent a maid or nurse here to do so, you'd likely shoot them too.

[She closed her eyes and tried counting to ten, feeling a lot like a child attempting to overcome a raging temper.]

Oh, really? And what delusion is that?

[The next part was said through gritted teeth,] You know, Lucifer, calling people names and physically restraining them? Not usually the best way to show you care. You've been in a bad mood since you got here, and I don't know what the hell's gotten into you, but if anyone should be pissed off, it's me.

That all there is in this bleeding existence is what you can see!

[She spoke and he could see that she was angry, could feel it in the dread building in his chest, but there was something else there, something heavier and more urgent pressing him to let go of that caution he normally had, especially with her.]

Don't you? You've no idea, have you? Well, let me spell it out for you. I get a call from a frantic child telling me her mother is crying because she's too hurt to do up her own bloody shirt and that's the first I'm hearing that you're hurt at all. That anything other than a normal day occurred, and it's because your terrified spawn is calling me. I come rushing over here because who knows what's happened, and you're standing here with your bloody hands all... bloody and your first reaction is to be irritated at me for being here. No 'hello, Lucifer', no 'I'm glad to see you care, Lucifer', no, just 'what're you doing here, stop breaking in, Lucifer'. You could have been killed and all you can do is tell me what a sod you think I am and that it doesn't matter.

[His anger was getting the better of him and he let go of her wrist, pushing up from where he'd been sitting to pace in front of her.]

Why do I even bother? You don't listen to anything I say? You certainly don't believe it, nor even what you've seen. And then you dare have the temerity to try to order me not to do my job. Woman...

[He pointed a finger at her, jaw tight and body tense with fury.]

It'd serve you right if I left you alone with the child. It's clearly what you want anyway.

[For a moment she allowed herself to be furious at him, felt the urge to rail back at him blind her as he sat there and raised his voice at her with Trixie in the other room. She wanted to yell back, wanted to tell him he was overreacting and that her entire job involved some level of risk and that calling him for every little incident would be stupid. She wanted to tell him to just get the hell out of her house, then, if that was how he wanted to be. That maybe they should put the brakes on their entire-- whatever they were indefinitely.

But that was her anger talking. She could hear her mother's voice in her head, telling her that decisions made in anger were typically bad ones. It was a strange piece of advice considering how carefree her mother usually was, but it was a bit that always stuck with her. And even though she could feel her heart pounding as he threw accusation after accusation at her, could feel her throat closing up in frustration and other negative emotions, she tried her best to let the fog of outrage settle. To actually listen to what he was saying. And while she still didn't appreciate the way he acted on his feelings, she could... understand why he felt hurt.

Because that, she realized, was what this was really about. He was worried about her, yes, but something clicked into place when he mentioned how she hadn't called him. While she had her reasons, she was beginning to comprehend that Lucifer wasn't immune to having his feelings hurt, no matter how he acted on a daily basis.

So she blinked past the sudden burning sensation in her eyes and gently reached forward to touch his hand, to wrap her injured fingers awkward around the one pointing at her. Her voice was quiet and calm when she spoke,]

You know that's not what I want. Sit down, Lucifer. Please.

[She was going to drive him to-- something. He already drank, along with doing other substances she wouldn't approve of. Break things? Likely. He didn't often let his temper get him to the point of violence. Wrath had never been his jive as much as Pride had. He was ready for her, waiting for her to stand up and yell at him, hit him, kick at him, something to go along with that rage he saw in her eyes.

And then it deflated. Poof. Out like a pricked balloon, he thought he saw something like liquid in her eyes and his anger turned to fear, then guilt. She grabbed his hand and if it had been anyone else, he would have pulled it away, but it was her and she was injured. He stood there, feeling like a world-class idiot as she just looked up at him like that, with feelings in her gaze that hurt to see. Because of him.

Numbly, he sat, clearing his throat and moving to gently extract himself from her grip, smoothing down his trousers along his thighs.]

Yes, well, it's what you meant. It's what you always mean when you look at me and roll your eyes, as if I'm some thing you have to endure.

[She shifted to give him more room to sit, watching his face intently. She definitely still saw anger there somewhere, but he seemed conflicted now, more tempered by the sudden change in direction. She let him take his hands away, letting hers lie awkwardly in her lap.

She felt her heart squeeze when he referred to himself as a 'thing,' when he said it felt like she viewed him that way. And suddenly guilt laid heavy in her chest as well, like a hot coal, burning away at her insides.]

You're not a thing. You're not something I have to endure; I've never meant that. I was just... frustrated. And embarrassed, and I lashed out. [She swiped the back of her hand against her eyes, feeling her vision grow blurry.] I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel unwanted or unimportant. And I'm sorry I didn't call. I should have, I just-- didn't want to make anyone worry.

No, no, we won't have any of that.

[His hand lifted to let his thumb catch at her tears, wiping them away from under her eyes as something constricted in his chest.]

You're completely maddening, you realize that, mm? You're one of the strongest people I know, and incredibly intelligent, yet you can be so idiotic at times. Did you just plan on doing all of this by yourself? You, the spawn, and your poor battered hands all alone in this house? Didn't think it through, did you? Were you planning on telling me you'd been hurt at all?

[She felt him wiping away at her forming tears and she felt her shoulders tense a little as she tried to hold them back. His gesture made her feel worse, but she was grateful all the same as she let out a small sniffle.]

I wasn't not planning to say anything. In my defense, it did just happen last night. I wasn't really thinking about anything other than getting home and sleeping. But, yeah, I... probably would've waited another day or two until they'd healed some more.

[She shifted in discomfort, considering how to word the next part.] Honestly, I hadn't even really stopped to consider you'd want me to call you about it.

[He drew his hand back carefully, head tipping just a bit to the side as he looked at her. Really looked at her.]

If you had anyone else in your life you could call on, would you have? If the Douche were available to call, would he have earned a call last night? Or today? Do you even have anyone in your life aside from Trixie -- and myself?

I'm going to answer for you; no, you don't. And your mother doesn't count, she's not even in town. You've made yourself so very alone, Detective. You don't have to be. I--

[He pressed his lips together, hands lacing on his lap as he thought about his next words carefully.]

I thought you would have considered me someone you could call on. Serious or not. Shame or not, and there's no shame in needing help.

[His words were like a ton of bricks slammed against her gut, because she couldn't deny it. He'd told her once that she was his first true friend, and while she's had friends and loved ones before him, she didn't exactly have a lot of friends to turn to either. Not after Palmetto. Even though Malcolm was revealed to be dirty, her relationships with the other officers at the precinct were still strained. Maybe they would mend with time, but she certainly didn't feel like she could call anyone there for assistance.

It hadn't hit her before, but when she really thought about it, Lucifer Morningstar was one of her only friends. Her best friend. She watched him struggle for words and felt a soft, affectionate smile come to her lips. A hand reached out to touch his back.]

I know. I'll call next time. I promise. I guess I just feel like I should... have it all together, I don't know. It's stupid.

You're not perfect, though you do make a valiant attempt. No one is, love. The sooner you realize that, that striving for some impossibility is just that, impossible, the happier you'll be.

Now let me finish your hand before you go and get it infected and they have to chop it off. I'd rather they didn't. I like that hand and what it does.

[That made her chuckle.] I think I'd look great with a hook, I'll have you know.

[She released one last sigh, and with it went the rest of her negative emotions as they seemed to evaporate into thin air.]

Before you do, can you grab one of those pillows for me? I'm supposed to keep them elevated and it'd be easier. [A pause.] And one of those pills? They're starting to hurt.

[See? Progress.]

[He might have made a quip, but the mention of her being in pain had him moving more quickly than he would have liked to admit. He got her a pill and some water to take it, along with the pillow before he sat beside her.]

Shall I hold the glass for you?

[Okay, so maybe he didn't get to fuss that often. Maybe he wasn't sure how much was too much. Did it matter?]

[She took the pill from him and drew her brows together as she considered his question.]

Uh. Here, let me just... [Her fingers closed around the glass gingerly, and she winced a bit as some discomfort twinged through her.] I think I've got it, just hold the bottom so I don't drop it?

[She still didn't necessarily enjoy being coddled, but she found she was grateful he cared so much to want to help. And after what had just occurred, he deserved the right to fuss if he wanted.]

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