bakerstreet | (no subject)

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THE SUDDENLY ASLEEP MEME

Options

1. Exhaustion - Maybe you haven't been sleeping well lately, maybe you've had a stressful day at work. Either way, you just can't keep your eyes open, and any surface/person/animal looks comfortable

2. Magic - Maybe you shouldn't have annoyed that wizard! Be it in the middle of a fight, or a time-delay to sometime more inconvenient, you just fall asleep where you stand.

3. Illness - You're sick, and the sickness is draining all your energy. Are you drifting off in bed, or doing something you shouldn't be when under the weather. Maybe you're actually narcoleptic.

4. Drugged - Oh no! I never should have drank those chemicals. Or, perhaps, you've got an enemy with access to weird and exotic poisons, or a vindictive roommate. Maybe you shouldn't have drank the last soda.

5. Boredom - Wow, this mission briefing is really boring, or maybe you can't bear to listen to your friend recounting the one-night fling he had with a botanist in Switzerland. Either way, you're sat there and dozing off in your chair.

6. Drunk - Had one too many? Not enough?

7. Anything else? The more awkward or annoying the better!

Instructions

1. Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
2. Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 6. You can use RNG or just choose.
3. Have fun!

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Finally, Jim can breathe a sigh of relief when he eases back the mass of towels he has clamped against Brian's injured arm. He really should clean the wound before bandaging it up, but he doesn't want to risk opening it up all over again. For now, he'll just cover it with gauze and surgical tape and be grateful that it's beginning to clot.

Now what?

"Dammit, Brian. You never could make anything easy for me, could you?"

After several moments of indecision, Jim grabs Gamble under the arms and starts moving him towards the bed in what passes for the guest room in the apartment. It's easier said than done, considering that he's got Brian's broken arm to contend with, but he finally gets Gamble laid out on the bed as best as he can.

The headboard is some curly wrought iron thing that Lara loved but Jim hated, but now it proves an ideal location for cuffing Gamble's wrist. After what Gamble said earlier, Street's not taking any chances.

That done, Jim begins to clean up the hallway, picking up bloodied towels and putting away first aid supplies and phone books.

Now that Brian's out, though, Jim has only his thoughts to fill the silence, and all he can find himself thinking about is just how fucked up this whole situation really is.

It takes a few hours, but Gamble finally does come to, blinking weakly about, taking stock of his surroundings. He's cuffed, of course, to the headboard...

...And the first thing that comes out of Gamble's smug mouth, weakly, is; "This is just gettin' more and more kinky, Jimbo." He calls out, not seeing Jim in the room.

"Next time, I'm expecting to find my pants 'round my ankles."

Brian wasn't the only one sleeping earlier, but Jim instantly snaps awake at the sound of the other man's voice. He might not have caught the first part of Gamble's statement, but he certainly heard the second portion of it. God, and he did not need that mental image right this instant.

He needs a moment to pull himself together, but then Street rolls out of bed and crosses the hallway into the other bedroom, grumbling something wholly uncomplimentary about Gamble's parentage.

"You should start a wishlist, Brian, you and your kinks." He shakes his head and tries to steer the conversation back to more neutral ground. "How do you feel?"

"You're the one chaining me to a fucking bed like some whore who got robbed of five bucks, partner."

Brian groans at that question. "Wondering why the fuck I'm still here." He rattles the cuff on the metal headboard as he moves to sit up... and fails, lying back down, looking a bit woozy.

"You didn't roofie me, too, did ya?"

"Just be glad it's the bed," Jim sighs before aiming a narrow eyed look at Brian for that roofie question. He's not even going to bother dignifying that with a verbal response. "Maybe I should knock you back out, though. It's a lot more peaceful around here when you're not running your mouth."

Jim's not really serious, though. Or maybe he is, but just a little.

"Christ. I shudder to think what else."

Aren't you glad you didn't let him bleed out, Jim? Huh?

"Hey, you gauzed up my arm wrong." He comments, shifting slightly. "And I'm still wondering why I'm still alive. Starting to think I was right, and you do want to keep me as a pet."

...He's fine-ish. His words are slurring, maybe keeping the bravado to distract from what he actually said a few hours ago.

In a way, this is just like old times, even if the bantering is fast becoming a bit too suggestive for Jim's tastes.

"You'd make a terrible pet. I'd have to feed you and take you for walks. I bet you're not even house trained."

Fine, though. Two can play at this game, and at least Jim's feeling awake enough not to stick his foot in mouth now.

"You're avoiding the question." Gamble points out, all joking leaving his voice.

"You really don't want me to die."

Jim nearly looks away, but he forces himself to meet Brian's eyes. "No, I don't."

Slowly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed by Gamble's feet, but it's a long moment before he says anything more.

"Last night, I thought you had died. I ... I don't want to go through that again."

"Why?" He asks, shifting to look at him. "Why do you still give a shit?"

"You were my partner for give goddamn years, Brian. Don't you think that means something to me?"

Just be satisfied with that answer, Gamble. Let it drop. Please, let it drop.

That shuts him up. It actually shuts him up.

His eyes fix on his boots, silently. "So, what now?"

Jim's shoulders slump just a little. In relief, perhaps?

"A shower might be a good idea." Street gives Gamble an arch look complete with raised eyebrow. "You shower, I find us some food. Deal?"

"Red meat. Iron. None of that fuckin' salad crap." He grumbles, moving to shift back to a sitting position.

"And unless you plan on giving me a bed-bath, I need uncuffing."

"Hey, the fucking salad crap is good for you." Jim points a finger at Brian to emphasize his point. "And I know you're a lousy date, so don't think I'm taking you out to any five-star restaurant."

Even after the cuff falls away, Street keeps his hand wrapped around Gamble's wrist and locks eyes with him. "Don't make me regret this." It's not just a warning, though; it's a request as well.

"Not when I've lost nearly all my blood." Gamble grunts, flexing his wrist under Jim's hand, locking eyes back. "I can barely stand this time, Jimbo."

"You're resourceful." In a way, it's a compliment, really. "I'm sure you'd figure out a way to run if you really wanted to."

Jim's tone softens infinitesimally. "I'm just hoping you don't."

"You're feeding me." Gamble says, shrugging. "I don't care what it is. Just meat, if you want me to get better."

That wasn't quite a promise not to make a break for it, but it's not like Jim is really expecting for Gamble to give him his word on anything anymore. His grip shifts from Brian's wrist to his hand proper, and unless Brian jerks his hand away first, Street will help pull him to his feet.

"Do you want cheese on your burgers or not?"

No, no steak on the menu tonight. Jim would have to go grocery shopping for that, and he's not about to leave Gamble alone in his apartment for a variety of reasons. But hamburgers are red meat, too, and Street can always sneak lettuce and tomatoes on the buns if Brian is so set on avoiding salads.

[[ooc: Sorry I have to leave right in the middle, but I'm going to start typing gibberish if I don't get some sleep. See you after I get some shuteye!]]

Brian's up and on his feet, taking a few experimental steps... before stumbling over his own boots, bracing himself on the wall. "...Shit..." He mutters, straightening.

"Cheese... Yeah. Calcium... You got any fresh milk, too?"

Well, if Jim's that intent on helping him...

((OOC: Don't worry about it. :3 Also, tags may slow down due to work.))

Instinct has Jim automatically moving to intervene should Brian lose his balance entirely, but then Gamble recovers, and Jim takes a step back to establish space between them again. Brian's made it abundantly clear already that he doesn't appreciate being babied, but the last thing Jim needs right now is for his ex-partner to fall and add to his list of injuries.

"Do I look like a grocery store to you?" The answer to that had better be a resounding 'no,' if Jim's dry tone is anything to go by. "Get in the shower, and then you can raid my fridge."

"Hey, you're the one intent on keeping me here." He shuffles into a steadier position before taking a few unsteady steps towards the door, fighting back his dizziness and nausea.

This was going to be fun. Brian can feel it. He pauses against the wall, steadying himself.

"Only because you look like the poster child for the Humane Society," Jim snorts wryly, not at all above taking a dig at his former partner's sorry state. Then again, it's not like Jim isn't sporting his own handsome share of bruises and scratches.

It's an unfamiliar sight to see Gamble this incapacitated, though, and Jim frowns as he silently watches Brian shuffle forward a few steps and then brace himself against the wall when he can't immediately continue on. "If I offer to help, are you going to rip me a new one?"

"Damn fucking straight I will." Brian growls, pushing off against the wall and straightening again. The nausea is making him feel sick, like motion sickness. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, willing the room to stop spinning, before opening them and continuing to walk.

This time he gets as far as the doorframe.

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Whoops, give =/= five. ^_^;

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