Soooo I found when I was writing the Beach Fic that I really, really love writing Doc Worth. A lot. Then I read a fic here on LJ (that I can't seem to find now, damnit) that involved Doc Worth bringing blood to Conrad's place... I can't find it now, but there was a line: "Doc Worth did not make house calls." I read that and... well, somehow this spawned. Because this fandom needs weird thoughtful things about Worth and his relationship with Hanna and horrible Hanna abuse. There always needs to be more of this.
Comments are greatly appreciated~!Title:
Made to Be BrokenRating:
Doc Worth, Hanna, Zombie annnd ConradChapters:
In which Worth muses and yells a lot, Hanna gets himself torn up by a gryphon, Zombie is worried and Conrad complains. Pretty average day at the office, really.
There were a number of unspoken rules when it came to Doc Worth, rules that he was well aware of. He supposed this could be considered somewhat strange, since he was well aware that rules were generally the last thing people thought of when they thought of him. But really, he'd never been the type to give a damn about other people's judgement, so that hardly mattered. He quite frankly did not care if others thought he was slimy and greasy... well, okay, that was a lie. He thought it was downright hilarious if it bothered them, but that was not the point. To him, it all came down to his opinions of himself and his own personal standards. So he had this set of rules, and he did his best to follow them. And no, none of them were Fight Club references.
Rule Number One was simple enough, and that was that Worth did not make house calls. He couldn't really care less if you were throwing up your organs or whatever. His patients came to him, not the other way around, and he damn well liked it that way thank you very much.
Rule Number Two was equally simple. People did not ask where he got whatever the fuck he was giving them, and if he made it himself they didn't ask what was in those little capsules either. They simply didn't, and if they asked, they weren't getting an answer. There was really no sense in getting people worked up over just how potentially illegal it all was, and really, what did it matter? He wasn't going to question whether his "patients" actually needed the meds or were just going to use them to get high, bastards owed him a similar level of courtesy.
Rule Number Three was a bit trickier. Worth had really gone into this "business" of his for power. For all of his shady dealings, he honestly didn't care that much about money. Whether he got it through drug dealing or other means, he had enough to get by and that was fine. Regardless, that didn't change the fact that he was not running some sort of fucking charity. He wasn't going to ask for money, but if you did not find a way to pay him back somehow
you were going to find yourself with A Problem.
Rule Number Four was the clearest of them all. That rule came above all others, colored his everyday interactions with people and his perception of the world around him. That rule was simply this: Worth did not give a fuck about you. You did not matter, not your stupid gaping chest wound or your drug addiction or your sob story of a life or what-the-fuck-ever. He did not care. He was in this for the sake of making some sort of living and for the sake of rubbing salt in wounds (sometimes literally), not because he actually particularly cared about helping people. He did a great job by his own opinion, sure, but it wasn't out of any sense of altruism. With that in mind, it was made very clear that whining was just not tolerated around him. Whether it was over him prodding too hard at your recently dismembered arm or whatever else, Worth did not care
so you were kindly advised to shut the hell up.
They were fairly simple rules, and they were rules that Worth prided himself in abiding to even if they were never actually spoken of. After all, if he was going to run a slimy back alley business, he may as well do it right. He could be disgusting and underhanded in every other way imaginable, but damnit, he intended to at least stay vaguely respectable to his own strange code of dishonor.
So with that in mind... what the hell was he doing at Hanna's apartment?
That question left him standing in confusion for a moment, brow furrowing as he stood over the flimsy card table that was meant to pass for Hanna's dining room table. His cigarette nearly dropped from his chapped lips as he found himself staring blankly at the nearby cracked wall, absently observing the crooked rune drawings that were taped all over said crack in a pathetic attempt to cover it up. The place really was
cheaper than the crumbling building that he called his office, it was kind of impressive.
"Doooooooc~!" Hanna's high-pitched whine of pain brought him back, the young man's voice sounding even more pathetic than usual.
"Hey, I'm thinkin' here! Christ Hanna, would you shut the hell up for one Goddamned second!?" Worth snapped as he jabbed a greasy finger dangerously close to one of the large gashes in the redhead's side. The young man let out a yelp and tried to curl inward on reflex, only to be stopped by a heavy, grayish green hand on his shoulder. Worth's eyes went from the twenty-four year old on the table to his zombie companion, one eyebrow raising as glowing orange eyes met his.
Right, okay. Maybe it would be best to make this one of those "nice" visits. Not that he was particularly scared of Hanna's friend or anything, but really, there was no sense in making enemies with someone like that.
," He muttered as he took his cigarette and tapped the end of it, sending bits of ash tumbling to the already dirty floor. He then went back to peering at Hanna's wounds, peeling aside layers of the shredded, blood-soaked shirt so he could get a proper look. "Mind explainin' me just what it was that's left My Little Pony here in such a sorry state? It's apparently vitally important, seein' how you fuck-muffins felt the need to actually call me out of m' lovely abode. What, was tromping into my place at all hours lugging in stupid artfag vampires or a bleeding troll or a robot unicorn with kidney failure or whatever-the-fuck you found not good enough for you anymore?"
"H-hey, that troll seriously needed our help!" Hanna croaked out from the table, only to give another yelp as Worth lightly kicked one of the already weak legs on the thing.
"Cut that out!" Conrad snapped from across the room, his pale hands shaking as he poured some very red water into the sink. "And seriously, what the fuck were we supposed to do? He was bleeding everywhere, we didn't think he was going to make it
to your stupid excuse of an office!"
"Thank you, captain obvious, I worked out the fact that he was bleeding
a long fucking time ago," Worth sneered as he gestured to the the shuddering youth on the table. After a moment he found himself smirking. "Though I guess you noticed too. What, was the house call on account of the fact that you were having trouble holding back? Are you actually close growing a pair?"
"W-what!?" Conrad quite nearly fell into the sink. He let out a sputtering noise as he turned to glare at the Doctor, familiar expression of anger falling into place. "Back off, asshole! You know I would never do that! That would be gross a-and anyway--"
"Oh, hey, that's right!" Hanna piped up again, trying to lift his head from the table. "You know, if I'm bleeding we may as well not let all the blood go to waste! I mean as long as you don't actually eat me it's--"
, Hanna!" Conrad growled as he turned back to the sink, tugging on the faucet handle with more force than necessary. "Anyway, would you leave me the fuck alone and focus on making sure Hanna doesn't, you know, die
Worth rolled his eyes, smirk still in place. It really was far too easy. The fact that Conrad was on edge was doing little to cover up his poorly masked worry, and that made things all the more fun. Although really, he supposed he couldn't blame the guy. Hanna was, in a word, a mess. The bleeding seemed to be slowing, but it didn't change the fact that the numerous gashes that covered his body were pretty grisly. "Right, I forgot our poor little Sparklepire is squeamish, so I'll make this quick."
"Sparklepire!? What the--"
"Just give me more water and bring me more of those Goddamn towels, would ya? I need to clean out the gashes and see if whatever-the-fuck it was hit anything vital," Worth grumbled, ignoring Hanna's whine of pain as he nudged aside the flap of skin that had once been stapled down. Oh, that was gonna be a bitch to put back in place, industrial staples were aggravating at best.
"I'm not your fucking nurse," Conrad grumbled as he lugged the now full container (it looked like it had probably been one of those giant plastic containers of Chunky Monkey at one point) of water across the room, miraculously managing to not spill any before he set it down. The cardboard table seemed to shudder a bit under the weight, but miraculously held up. Hanna really was skilled at finding the best of the worst in the dumpster.
"No, you're not. Sorry t' spoil your lifelong fantasy of wearing one of those short white skirts. I'm sure your other little fag friends will be so disappointed," Worth said as he fished into the pocket of his coat. Before Conrad could bark out a reply, he found himself hit in the face with a set of very grimy keys. "Go ta' my lab and get some blood packets, we're gonna need them and obviously you know where they are. Also grab the bag in the second cabinet, you'll know it 'cos it's got the whole American Cancer Society logo on it n' all."
The vampire gave a twitch as he caught the keys in their rebound off of his face. "WHAT PART OF I AM N-- American Cancer Society
?" Conrad paused, his anger forgotten in favor of confusion. "Why the fuck would you have a bag like that?"
Worth shrugged. "Was free and I thought it'd be ironic since they keep bitchin' at me 'bout how smoking fucking kills. As if I don't know that, I'm a Goddamn doctor! Anyway, stop standing there and get going, guy's bleeding out here! And don't stop for any fuckin' nibbles on the way, you hear me!?" He made a shooing motion with his hand.
Conrad gave a scowl. "You're not the boss of me! I'm going for him, not you!" He snapped as he made his way for the door, slamming it with a bit more force than necessary.
The Doctor let out a sigh as he turned back to Hanna and his companion. "What? Dun' look at me like that," He muttered as 'Anton' (Hanna's latest name for him) raised a brow. "Bastard's like a fucking woman, if he stuck around we were never gonna get anything done because he'd be hovering like some fag mother hen! Not that you're any better... but there's no chance that I'm gettin' rid of you too, is there?"
Orange eyes stared at him for a moment and Worth snickered. "Thought so. Fine, you can help me out. Lift him up, would ya? Shirt's gotta come off." He said. His newfound assistant didn't have to be told twice, strong arms lifting the young man up as gently as possible.
"Aw, don't take the shirt, I like this shirt..." Hanna mumbled, his voice sounding a bit more distant. The blood loss was probably finally knocking him out.
"Tch, you have what, ten just like it? Stop bitching," Worth muttered as he tossed the tattered remains of the pink and blue (or at least he assumed that had been the color at one point) patterned shirt aside. With the shirt gone, the damage was considerably more apparent. The gashes came in sets of threes all across the young man's abdomen, some shallow, some worryingly deep. A few had torn across the scars that already covered Hanna's chest, one staple torn away to reveal a bloody mess beneath. These were fortunately the shallower kind, but it was still pretty horrifying. The blond gave a low whistle as he surveyed the gashes. "Christ, Hanna, this really is
worse than usual. It's a miracle you didn't hit anything vital. The fuck did you do?" He muttered as he dug a bottle of disinfectant out of his pocket and set to cleaning out the wounds.
"The l-library had a gryphon problem..." Hanna said weakly. "And gryphons are way cool, I didn't want to hurt it or anything. So I tried, you know, going to talk to it and-- owowow!" He winced as a soaked towel connected with one of the wounds, again trying to curl inward and again being stopped by his partner's hand on his shoulder.
"I told you not to run ahead," The undead man chided, his tone of voice probably the closest to anger or frustration that Worth had ever heard from him.
Hanna let out a laugh, then winced. "S-sorry, Helios. Wasn't thinking,"
"You're damn right you weren't thinking, dumbass," Worth grunted as he prodded a bit harder than necessary at one of the gashes. "What part of 'stop throwing yourself into fucking danger
' did you not get? Was it the part where I said 'fucking danger
' or 'stop
"E-er, m-maybe a bit of both?" Hanna asked with a weak grin. "OW! Come on Doc, I'm just doing my job!"
"Stop whining, it's yer own Goddamn fault!" Worth scowled as he prodded again, then tossed a crimson-soaked rag into the basin of water. "So what, your job is t' get killed? Bullshit, there's a dangerous job and then there's being a fucking idiot. I swear Hanna, you keep this up and I'm not botherin' anymore, ya hear me?!" This was, of course, a complete and total lie, but damnit he had to at least keep up a pretense here.
"Sorry Doc," Hanna winced again. "I just... er yeah okay, I was being stupid. I'll admit that. But someone had to do something."
"Even so, you could try to be more careful," He heard the undead man speak up again, sounding tired this time. It was kind of strange to hear Hanna's zombie friend express anything other than apathy, which only made Worth wonder just how bad the whole mess with the gryphon had really been.
"Yes, he could, but I'm startin' to get the vague impression that somebody actually likes this shit! What, do ya just want attention or somethin'? 'Cause con-fucking-gratulations, ya got my Goddamn attention!" Worth grumbled as he inspected another gash.
"Oh, come on you two," Hanna muttered, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. "I'm not a little kid, I--"
"Aren't ya!?" Worth interrupted, his anger rising as he finally tossed the rags aside. "I dunno, coulda fooled me with bullshit stunts like this!"
Hanna winced. "I... er..."
"Honestly," Worth growled as he stood, his expression angry as he stabbed a blood-soaked finger at Hanna's chest. I'm serious, cut this shit out or so help me, next time I
will be the one beating the shit outta you, ya hear me!?"
The redhead cringed on the table, looking rather like he'd like to somehow sink through it as his eyes widened. He gave a meek nod, biting his lip. "Yessir, got it sir. "
"Good," The blond muttered. He was well aware that Hanna's words were most likely just a lie to appease him and his zombie friend, but he'd take what he could get. He shook his head as he began to look over the rest of Hanna's wounds. There was a gash in his leg that looked particularly worrying, but he was having trouble seeing it with Hanna's leg bent the way it was . "What happened to your leg here?"
"E-er, well, the gryphon kinda sorta threw me throw a window and-- Ooooooow!"
find a way to sprain your ankle on top of all this, Jesus Christ," Worth scowled as he shifted to avoid messing with Hanna's ankle in his attempt to get a good look at the infected gash. "Stop complaining, at least 's not broken. Though that could be better for you, if your leg was broken
at least it'd keep you outta trouble for once in your fuckin' life."
"You think so?" Hanna said with a weak laugh.
"No it wouldn't. You'd just find more ways to get in trouble with a wheelchair," He heard the undead man speak up from Hanna's side, which only caused the redhead to laugh again.
"I'd stop laughin' if I were you," Worth muttered as he prodded at the gash. "You've got somethin'
in here and it's not looking pretty. It's all gotta come out."
"C-come out?" Hanna groaned. "I don't like the sound of that."
"You heard me," The doctor grumbled as he grabbed another rag and dabbed at the wound. "Shit looks like it's in there deep too." He didn't react as Hanna let out another yelp, though he did give another low whistle as the blood was cleared away and he finally got a good look at all the crap in Hanna's leg. There was a worrying amount of glass jammed into the young man's flesh, but the worst part was easily the gigantic splinter of wood that was sunk so far into the leg that he could barely see it.
"Owowowow," He heard Hanna whining again and he let out a sigh as he sat back.
"What have I told you about fucking whining?" He growled as he fished into his pockets again. After a moment he pulled out a couple of pills. The blond barely glanced at them as he shoved them into his newfound undead assistant's hands. "Make him take that and make sure he doesn't fuckin' choke on them or something. I need him to stop whining so I can do my Goddamn job!"
The zombie blinked down at the pills, scrutinizing them with a frown. Worth let out a loud sigh. "I haven't poisoned him before, have I? They're just fucking painkillers, I got 'em from a decently reliable-ish guy. He'll be fine, just make him fucking take them already! I need you to have your hands free to hold him down." Those orange eyes were probably looking mildly alarmed at the mention of "holding him down", but Worth was busy digging through his pockets for his tweezers.
"Er, these are kinda big... is this a horse pill?" Hanna muttered as he sat up to take the medicine from his friend, brow furrowing as he looked at the pills. "I was kinda hoping for grape flavor this time."
Worth let out a growl as he finally pulled the tweezers out, making a face as he realized they were covered with some sort of sticky substance of an unknown origin. "You're gonna taste my fist
in a minute, just take the Goddamn things!"
Apparently this threat was enough for Hanna, as he immediately shoved the pills into his mouth and swallowed without any water. As he gulped the stuff down, he glanced to the object in Worth's hand. "Oh hey, it's the tweezers... heeeeey tweezers, it's been awhile," Hanna winced, looking nervous. He tried to edge back on the table, only to run into the solid orange wall that was his undead friend. "E-er, do we really have to do this? I mean, it's not all in there that deep, is it?"
Woth blinked at him as he wiped the tool down with disinfectant. "Yeeaaah, I dun think you want that. I mean, don't get me wrong, I could
try ripping the stuff out with my bare, grimy fingers..." He trailed off at this, smirking.
The mental image was apparently enough for Hanna, as he shook his head violently and flopped back down on the table. "W-well, maybe this won't be so bad," He mumbled, small hands clenching into fists as Worth dabbed at the wound again. He was clearly trying to sound as chipper as usual, but his pale face and the nervous looks he kept giving the tweezers gave him away.
His friend watched him in silence for a moment, then spoke up. "So, Hanna, earlier you mentioned something about... ah, what was it? Pokemon?"
The attempt at redirecting Hanna's attention was clumsy at best, but fortunately the redhead was easily distracted on regular days and seemed more than grateful right now. He launched into some great speal about the Pokemon games, which Worth easily tuned out as he set to cleaning the cut. He caught a few ramblings about Mewtwo and how the First Movie was clearly the best, but none of that really meant anything to him. He did pay attention for the moment when Hanna's words started to slur a bit though, since that probably meant the drugs were taking effect.
Well, it was either that or the blood loss, but whatever.
He had to admit, he was kind of impressed by the undead man's ability to keep Hanna's attention. The redhead was like a squirrel on cocaine at the slowest of times, and the fact that he managed to keep Hanna on the same subject through the first few pieces of glass really was pretty impressive. Unfortunately, even Pokemon couldn't hold out against some of the deeper shards of glass, so he wasn't too surprised when Hanna finally let out a yelp and kicked out on reflex.
He let out a frustrated growl as a grimy hand shot out to force Hanna's leg back onto the table. "God fucking damnit! You made me lose it! Hold still, would ya!?" He snapped.
"Sorry!" The redhead winced. "It hurts, okay?"
"Then fucking deal!" Worth snarled as he readjusted the tweezers, then tugged again without any real warning. Hanna let out a yelp, his whole body thrashing this time before his friend managed to push him back to the table. The blond grit his teeth as he held up yet another shard, eyes narrowing as he watched the blood-soaked glass twinkle under the crappy lighting. He shook his head as he set the thing down. "That's three. Seven more t' go, I think."
"S-seven!?" Hanna gasped out, his voice taking on a pained, high-pitched lilt. "Aw hell
Hell was really probably the right word. Worth actually tried to be fucking gentle
, he really did, if only because he'd hoped it would get the whole mess over with sooner. Regardless, the shards of glass were wedged quite deeply into Hanna's leg, and there was only so much Worth could do. He'd wiggle the shard and he'd tug and Hanna would yell and squirm and it was all he and Hanna's friend could do to hold the young man down. At first he'd yelled right back, but after awhile that had just frustrated them both and he didn't really have the heart to keep it up when Hanna sounded so Goddamn pathetic. So he'd just sort of grit his teeth and cursed absently, doing his best to tune out Hanna's cries and the soft rumblings of 'Anton's' voice as he tried to calm the younger man down.
It seemed like forever before he finally got to that damned splinter of wood. "Alright, last one," He said, eyes darting to Hanna. The redhead sort of flinched, but seemed to have lost the energy to do much more than lay there and twitch on the table, face buried into the crook of his arm. The blond let out a sigh as he nudged the tweezers in, teeth grinding down on what was left of his cigarette as he heard Hanna's sharp intake of breath. Christ, he wasn't even to the hard part yet. "Come on kid, you've had worse, you'll be alright," He found himself muttering. "I'm gonna count down, alright?"
Hanna just sort of lets out a whimper and he wasn't sure if he hated the kid or himself more at the moment. It was irritating either way, though, so he focused on taking out the splinter.
"One... two... three!" He counted, and then with a jerk he pulled. Hanna out a cry and bucked, and there was a loud [i]'bang!'[/i] as green hands forced him back onto the table with a terrifying amount of force. Again Hanna thrashed and Worth cursed as he tugged harder, and for a few agonizing seconds the splintered piece of wood didn't seem to budge. Finally it slid free though, a splatter of blood hitting him rather squarely in the face as he tossed the thing aside.
The instant it was done with Hanna crumpled, flopping onto the table in a shaking, groaning heap. Worth stood back and panted, winded by the whole ridiculously tense experience, then glanced down at the grisly thing. He let out something between a laugh and a sigh as he knelt down to pick the thing up, shaking his head. "Fuck
," He muttered as he looked the piece of wood over. "You're lucky this thing didn't splinter more. That bugger must've stabbed you with a fuckin' tree or something!"
Hanna let out a weak, tired groan in response. Worth looked back to him, brow furrowing as he watched the redhead shudder for a moment, then watched as the young man's friend touch his shoulder. He heard the murmured "Are you alright?" and saw the worried expression, and for an instant was stupidly grateful that he didn't have to be the one to ask. It was a stupid sentiment, because damn it all it wasn't his place to be concerned and caring in this whole mess. That wasn't his place, and neither was the sense of relief he felt when he heard the young man's mumbled response that he was just fine.
It really wasn't his place and it didn't fit him, yet he found himself patting Hanna awkwardly on the shoulder anyway. "See? I told ya you've had worse," He said, and a part of him was kind of irritated at Hanna for making him so damn glad to hear a weak laugh in response. But hey, whatever. He was going to be alright, and that was what mattered. He raked a crimson caked hand through sweat-soaked hair, then glanced to the doorway. "Well? Are ya comin' in or are you just gonna stand there gaping in the doorway all day?"
Conrad stood in the entryway to Hanna's apartment, dark eyes wide as he gaped at Hanna. Worth swore he actually looked paler than usual, which was kind of impressive. "Holy shit
," The vampire finally sputtered as he stepped inside, lugging Worth's American Cancer Society bag with him.
"Yes, Barbie, we've been over this already," Worth sneered as he reached out to snatch the bag from Conrad's shaking hands. "Bastard was dyin', I fixed him. Been there, done that. If ya need to have a moment or whatever, do it on the bloody Couch or something, I've got sewin' to do."
Conrad let out a stream of curses and insults in response, which he was actually grateful for. The two fell into the familiar rhythm of insulting each other as Worth set to sewing and stapling Hanna up, which was something he could pretty much do in his sleep by this point. Fortunately, by this point Hanna was pretty out of it, and not having the redhead rolling every which way and chattering made things considerably easier. In fact, Hanna actually remained relatively silent until Worth was finishing bandaging him up, which had to be some sort of record or something.
"Thanks, Doc," He heard Hanna mumble and he blinked, then rolled his eyes.
"Dun go gettin' all sentimental on me cause you're drugged up," The blond grunted as he tugged hard on a bandage. "'S my job, not like you're fuckin' special or somethin'."
He half expected Hanna to say something in reply, but he didn't hear anything. All was quiet for a few minutes, and then came a soft snore. The doctor blinked in surprise, then glanced up to see the redhead fast asleep on the table. He then let out a snort and shook his head again. "I swear, you're such a fuckin' kid," He muttered as he tied off the bandages and stepped back. After glancing over the twenty-four year old to make sure there wasn't anything he hadn't missed (he would not put it past Hanna to somehow get himself yet another bruise out of this whole ordeal) he made his way over to the sink.
"Is he-- ow, geez, I was gonna move!" Conrad's question was cut off as Worth shoved him aside. "Is he going to be alright then?" The vampire's eyes went from the cleaned out bowl and the pile of towels he'd been trying (and failing miserably) to clean to Hanna's sleeping form. "He really does look like death warmed over."
Worth snorted as he scrubbed the dried blood from his hands. It wasn't really that he cared what he looked like, but there was no point in getting funny looks from the cops and having anyone try to pin yet another murder on him or something. "Are you kidding? I wasn't lyin' when I said he's had worse, he's gonna be fine. Probably whiny as hell over the next few days and a complete pain in the ass, but that ain't my problem." He glanced over to Hanna's friend, giving a nod as he grabbed one of the already soiled towels. "That'd be yours. You make sure he doesn't go doing stupid, ya hear? If he comes in bitchin' about broken stitches or what-the-fuck-ever, I'm gonna bash in some Goddamn skulls. So you..." His words died in his throat as he watched strong green arms scoop Hanna up like a child and move him toward the mattress. He really wasn't sure why he kept resorting to threats, when it came to that guy he really had nothing to worry about. There was little either of them could do when it came to protecting Hanna from himself, but that zombie was damn well going to try.
Worth really wasn't sure what to make of it, but whatever. At least it meant Hanna was less likely to get himself killed anytime soon.
Orange eyes met his again and the zombie seemed kind of unsure of what to do. "Thank you for coming," He finally said, and though his tone was the same as always, Worth got the feeling that he was extremely grateful. "I'll clean the rest up."
The blond snorted and looked away, running a hand through his hair. "You too? Geez, it's not like it's a huge deal or anything. What part of 'it's my fuckin' job' do you sentimental assholes not understand?" He muttered as he walked back over to the table, gathering the last of his things and shoving them into his bag. Normally he was all for having people worship the ground he walked on, but he didn't do sentimental shit and this whole mess was just weird. "Just make him get some rest and don't let him go chasing down leprechauns or whatever," He said as he tried to change the subject.
Of course, those orange eyes kept boring holes into his back, so finally Worth let out a sigh. "...You're welcome," He finally murmured as he hiked his bag over his shoulder. "You make sure he stays in bed, alright? I was serious about those fuckin' stitches."
With those words he was out the door, the rusty hinges squealing as he shoved it open. The door slammed shut behind him and he stood in the hallway for a moment, simply taking in the horrifying image of the place. The worn down carpet, the torn wallpaper, the bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. "Sheesh... place really is a fuckin' mess," The Doctor muttered as he pulled a tattered pack of cigarettes out of his pockets.
"You're one to talk," He heard Conrad mutter as the vampire pushed his way out into the hallway as well. "Have you seen
that hole in a wall that you call an office lately? It's a Goddamned landfill!"
The Doctor let out a snort, ignoring the comment as he glanced over at Conrad and quirked a brow. "What're you doin' out here? Did they kick you out so they could get their Heterosexual Life Partner thing on or somethin'? Or do you really secretly like following me around like a dog?" He asked with a smirk.
"Dog!?" Conrad sputtered. "I... they... no! I... augh...I have to go home, the sun's coming up soon and if I don't leave now I'll be stuck here." His shoulders slumped after a moment, exhaustion apparently draining most of his anger.
"Uh huh. Whatever you say ," Worth said with a shrug as he finally pulled his last cigarette out of the pack.
"It's the truth," The vampire rolled his eyes, making a face as he watched the cigarette be lit. "Do you have to do that right
now? I'm pretty sure there's a rule against smoking in here or something..."
"I'm fuckin' leavin' anyway, 's not like it matters!" Worth declared as he took a drag of his cigarette and began making his way for the stairs. Conrad grumbled and followed, and the two walked in silence for a bit. This was weird, but Worth passed it off due to the fact that they were both clearly exhausted and the night in general had been kind of weird.
Fortunately, he didn't have to be weirded out for too long before Conrad broke the silence. "You really do kind of have a soft spot for him, don't you?"
That stopped Worth in his tracks. "'Scuse me
?" He turned to glare at the vampire, then reached out to prod him sharply in the chest with a long finger "Right, let's get one thing straight here, Julie. I do not, nor have I ever
had any sort of fuckin' soft spot for anyone. I'm not some sort of pansy like you!"
Conrad let out a snort and folded his arms. "Uh huh. Then how do you explain showing up here in the middle of the night after you explicitly told me you didn't do house calls?" He asked.
The blond snorted. "What, and miss out on the spectacle of you freaking out like a little girl who lost 'er teddy? You called and you sounded right like you were about to have a mental breakdown, there was no way in hell that was I gonna miss that!"
"What!? I was not--"
"Oh please, don't try and cover it up. Admit it, you were standing there wringing your hands like a fuckin' den mother. Is this just projection for you or some shit?" Worth asked with a snort, pointing lazily at Conrad. "You act like you can't stand the kid, but you're
the one that called and stuck around."
If he'd had blood in his veins, Conrad probably would have flushed. "N-no! I... Christ, what was I supposed to do? He was fucking bleeding everywhere, I had to make sure you didn't kill him or anything, that's all!"
"Sure, sure. You dun' care, and I'm the fuckin' Queen of England," Worth snickered as he began to walk down the hall again, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Conrad watched him go, then let out a frustrated sigh as he caught up with him. "Okay, okay, fine
. He's like an annoying little brother or something. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that you were actually vaguely nice
back there. I'm amazed hell didn't freeze over or something."
"Nice?" The blond paused at the top of the stairs as he considered these words, brow furrowing. Had he really been nice? Sure, he supposed he had
broken his little rule about no house calls, and he did end up telling Hanna's friend just what he was giving the kid. But really, that had been necessary... though he supposed actually putting up with the whining was a bit out of character, and there'd been that irritating little stab of worry. And then of course there was the consideration of Hanna's tab, which Worth had basically given up on since there was no way the redhead could ever hope to pay it all back.
"Huh..." He reached up to absently scratch at the stubble on his chin. "You're right, maybe I do have a soft spot somewhere in my dark lil' soul. Hell, maybe Hanna's taught me that there's still good in the world, made my heart grow three sizes and all that! Why, sheesh, thanks to his inspiration, maybe I'll start volunteering at the soup kitchen and rescuing kittens or some shit like that!" He declared dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air.
Conrad scowled. "I didn't mean like that! Christ, it was just an observation. I-- ACK!" His ranting was cut off as Worth's foot connected rather solidly with the back of his knees, sending the vampire tumbling down the stairs with a series of thuds and curses.
The doctor peered down at the foot of the stairs, grin stretching from ear to ear as he listened to the stream of curses continue. "Yeah, that's right asshole! Still think I have a fuckin' soft spot?" The curses heightened in pitch and intensity at this, which only made him laugh more as he leaned against the banister. He reached up to adjust his cigarette as he tuned Conrad out for a moment, pondering more on what the vampire had said.
Though he'd never admit it, he supposed Conrad did have a point. Worth prided himself in his stunning ability to keep people away. He thrived on that sense of loneliness, that weird code of dishonor that fed into his stupid little need to tear himself apart and stick to his comfortable island at rock bottom. He'd been proud to say he hadn't wanted or needed anyone for years, and he was quite happy with that in his weird little masochistic, bitter way. Yet in spite of all that, when it came down to it, with Hanna things really were different. The irritating little redhead had wormed his way into his life like the stupid dog that he'd never wanted, tugging at heartstrings that he was frustrated to find still existed. Oh, he'd fought, but he couldn't deny the fact that though he yelled and screamed and kicked all the while, it didn't change anything. The kid would always show up at his doorstep, eyes wide and pleading as he cradled whatever collateral damage his latest little adventure had caused. It was as if he were a child and whatever he brought with him was his latest beloved, broken toy that he was begging to have fixed. And Worth would complain, he'd yell and he'd insist that this wasn't his job and this was the last time, but it'd always be a lie and he'd fix Hanna and whatever he'd brought in every single goddamn time.
Whether he liked it or not, it was true. He really did kind of have a soft spot for the kid. Hell, he'd broken every rule tonight, something which he really wouldn't have done for anyone else.
"...Weird," He muttered to himself, then gave a shrug as he made his way down the stairs. Conrad's angry protest as he lightly kicked the vampire and the typical argument that followed as they left only served to remind him just how weird his life had become. Hanna really had made things different... but he supposed in the end, in spite of all his complaints, he really didn't mind.
After all, rules were made to be broken.