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Day 24: Secret Injury (1)
An anon on Tumblr requested this one with Ward and Danny.
--
Waking up feeling like shit wasn't exactly something Ward had any lack of experience with. In fact, the symptoms were all too familiar: pounding headache, queasy stomach, raging thirst.
Opening his eyes to find Danny glaring at him was new, however.
He closed his eyes. He could not deal with that while feeling like this.
"Ward, I saw you wake up," Danny said. He sounded genuinely pissed. Ward felt something cold bump his arm. "You're supposed to drink. The antiemetic shot they gave you ought to be kicking in by now."
"Don't want to," Ward said on general principles, but Danny prodded him again and then he found himself going from horizontal to vertical without having done anything. Cracking his eyes open again, he discovered that this was because he was in a hospital bed and Danny was gripping the bed controls with an expression that usually went along with punching through concrete. There were curtains on either side of them, closing them into a nominally private space.
"Where am I?" he asked, starting to reach for the plastic water bottle Danny shoved at him only to be brought up short by the tug of an IV in his arm. "Uh ... that's new."
"You're in the ER," Danny said. He laid the bed control aside and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Why?" Ward said, although he had a pretty good idea by this point, even if the events leading up to it were slightly hazy.
"Because you didn't tell me you're still sick from the other day and you aren't drinking and you let me drag around sightseeing in hundred-degree heat until you passed out, that's why. Do you want to die?"
"Right now?" Ward said, pressing the water bottle to his aching forehead. "Yes."
"Drink," Danny said in an exasperated tone that Ward found vaguely familiar, although he couldn't place exactly why until Danny added, "Small sips, so it stays down," and then he realized (to his own exasperation) that Danny sound like, well ... like Ward, when dealing with him.
This was so unfair.
He sipped, hesitantly at first, since the whole "keeping water down" thing hadn't been working out so well for him for the last day or two. Whatever they'd given him seemed to be working, though. "So when do I get out of here?" he asked.
"Maybe when you can stand up without passing out would be good," Danny said. "Ward, you know you can tell me if you don't feel good, right? I'm not going to get mad."
"You're mad now," he couldn't help pointing out.
"Because of you almost dying! Not because of you being sick!"
"I didn't 'almost die.'" He punctuated it with air quotes with his IV-trailing free hand.
"You're in the ER," Danny sulked. "That doesn't speak of good life choices."
Ward had, by this point, finished about half the bottle of water and was surprised to find that he was kind of, a little bit, hungry for the first time in days. "Any chance you could find me something to eat? I think I could actually eat."
"Yes!" Danny said, and shot off the bed and vanished.
He was back in a few minutes with a bowl of broth and noodles, and Ward was suddenly, wildly ravenous. "Eat it slow," Danny warned, handing it to him, and perched on the edge of the bed again. Ward focused on not just wolfing it down, not because Danny said so but because he was aware it wasn't a good idea (another thing that, between alcohol and drugs and withdrawal from both, he had a little too much experience with), and it took about half the bowl to go from EAT EVERYTHING NOW to "okay, that's getting to be a little bit too much," and Danny took the bowl back.
"Feel okay?" he asked.
"Yes," Ward said, a little bit sullenly, but it was true; he actually did, and the headache was even going away. He was mainly just tired.
Danny stayed on the edge of the bed, swinging a foot that Ward could feel tapping rhythmically against the underside of the bed. In some ways Danny hadn't changed that much since they were kids; he was still a twitchy little bundle of random nerve impulses, going a dozen different ways at once, especially when his brain was working on something. They should've had those fidget spinner things when they were kids, Ward thought; Danny would have liked those. Maybe he'd still like them. Ward thought maybe he'd buy him one. At the very least it might make him easier to deal with on long plane flights.
"If you've got something to say, you can spit it out," he said wearily. "Yell at me or whatever."
"I'm not going to yell at you. I'm not mad. I was just worried," Danny said, which was blatantly obvious by the way it was written all over his face anyway. "Please just tell me if you need to sit out something I want to do, okay? You don't even have to say why. Just don't ..." He took a breath, and Ward could see him biting back on everything else he wanted to say.
The worst part, Ward knew all of it anyway. He knew Danny wasn't Harold, knew Danny wouldn't hate him or even look at him funny if he admitted that he didn't feel well and needed to spend a day or two just lying down in the hotel.
Which didn't make it any easier to do.
Instead, he said, "Didn't you go fight Davos with a broken leg?"
"That's ..."
"Different? How?"
Danny opened his mouth, shut it, and then he grinned. "It's really annoying when you're right, you know that?"
"Only because it happens so much."
"It's worse when I really want to be mad at you and can't."
"So you admit you're a gigantic hypocrite."
"I admit that we're both idiots and also kind of fucked up," Danny said.
Ward laughed; he couldn't help it. "Kind of?"
Danny smiled and sprawled on the bed, boneless as a cat, propping his chin on his fist. "I get scared because I don't want to lose you, Ward," he said quietly, and Ward had sudden echoes of Danny back in New York, that same naked sincerity: The people that I care about the most ... people like you, Ward. That stupid sincerity; he had no defenses against it. "I don't want to take away your freedom. I just want you to know you can talk to me before it gets this bad."
Ward swallowed, and managed to say, "Again, hypocrite."
"I know," Danny said, and he smiled in a distant kind of way -- like he was looking back into his own past. "How about we both work on it?"
"I'll believe that when I see it," Ward said, and closed his eyes, and he just -- damn it -- he didn't want to be this person who had to push himself 'til he collapsed because he couldn't admit to a simple human weakness. "Yeah, okay, I'll work on it. Good enough?"
"Good enough," Danny said, and poked him in the arm. "Drink."
"Yes, mother," Ward said, exasperated, and reached for the bottle of water.
Whumptober Master List
Oct. 1 - Shaky Hands (Stranger Things) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 2 - Explosion (Iron Fist) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 3 - Delirium #1 (Agent Carter) - On DW | On Tumblr
----- Delirium #2 (Punisher) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 4 - Human Shield (Alliance-Union) - Coming Around on AO3
Oct. 5 - Gunpoint (Iron Fist) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 6 - Dragged Away (Iron Fist) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 7 - Isolation (Alliance-Union) - Reference Points on AO3
Oct. 8 - Stab Wound (Iron Fist) - Deeper Cuts on AO3
Oct. 9 - Shackled (Iron Fist) - Shackles and Bows on AO3
Oct. 10 - Unconscious (Doctor Strange) - Pride Before a Fall on AO3
Oct. 11 - Stitches (Agent Carter) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 12 - "Don't Move" (Punisher) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 13 - Adrenaline (Stranger Things) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 14 - Tear-Stained (MCU - Endgame spoilers) - On DW
Oct. 15 - Scars (Agent Carter/MCU) - Flesh and Blood on AO3
Oct. 16 - Pinned Down (Alliance-Union) - On DW
Oct. 17 - "Stay with me" #1 (Stranger Things) - On DW | On Tumblr
----- "Stay with me" #2 (Iron Fist/Jessica Jones, Ward/Malcolm) - On Tumblr
Oct. 18 - [skip day]
Oct. 19 - Asphyxiation (Agent Carter) - Down in the Dark on AO3
Oct. 20 - Trembling (Iron Fist) - Run Down on AO3
Oct. 21 - Laced Drink (Iron Fist) - Monochrome Delirious on AO3
Oct. 22 - Hallucination (Agent Carter) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 23 - Bleeding Out (Punisher) - Hideout on AO3
Oct. 24 - Secret Injury #1 (Iron Fist) - On DW | On Tumblr
------------ Secret Injury #2 (Defenders) - On DW | On Tumblr
Complete list of prompts.
--
Waking up feeling like shit wasn't exactly something Ward had any lack of experience with. In fact, the symptoms were all too familiar: pounding headache, queasy stomach, raging thirst.
Opening his eyes to find Danny glaring at him was new, however.
He closed his eyes. He could not deal with that while feeling like this.
"Ward, I saw you wake up," Danny said. He sounded genuinely pissed. Ward felt something cold bump his arm. "You're supposed to drink. The antiemetic shot they gave you ought to be kicking in by now."
"Don't want to," Ward said on general principles, but Danny prodded him again and then he found himself going from horizontal to vertical without having done anything. Cracking his eyes open again, he discovered that this was because he was in a hospital bed and Danny was gripping the bed controls with an expression that usually went along with punching through concrete. There were curtains on either side of them, closing them into a nominally private space.
"Where am I?" he asked, starting to reach for the plastic water bottle Danny shoved at him only to be brought up short by the tug of an IV in his arm. "Uh ... that's new."
"You're in the ER," Danny said. He laid the bed control aside and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Why?" Ward said, although he had a pretty good idea by this point, even if the events leading up to it were slightly hazy.
"Because you didn't tell me you're still sick from the other day and you aren't drinking and you let me drag around sightseeing in hundred-degree heat until you passed out, that's why. Do you want to die?"
"Right now?" Ward said, pressing the water bottle to his aching forehead. "Yes."
"Drink," Danny said in an exasperated tone that Ward found vaguely familiar, although he couldn't place exactly why until Danny added, "Small sips, so it stays down," and then he realized (to his own exasperation) that Danny sound like, well ... like Ward, when dealing with him.
This was so unfair.
He sipped, hesitantly at first, since the whole "keeping water down" thing hadn't been working out so well for him for the last day or two. Whatever they'd given him seemed to be working, though. "So when do I get out of here?" he asked.
"Maybe when you can stand up without passing out would be good," Danny said. "Ward, you know you can tell me if you don't feel good, right? I'm not going to get mad."
"You're mad now," he couldn't help pointing out.
"Because of you almost dying! Not because of you being sick!"
"I didn't 'almost die.'" He punctuated it with air quotes with his IV-trailing free hand.
"You're in the ER," Danny sulked. "That doesn't speak of good life choices."
Ward had, by this point, finished about half the bottle of water and was surprised to find that he was kind of, a little bit, hungry for the first time in days. "Any chance you could find me something to eat? I think I could actually eat."
"Yes!" Danny said, and shot off the bed and vanished.
He was back in a few minutes with a bowl of broth and noodles, and Ward was suddenly, wildly ravenous. "Eat it slow," Danny warned, handing it to him, and perched on the edge of the bed again. Ward focused on not just wolfing it down, not because Danny said so but because he was aware it wasn't a good idea (another thing that, between alcohol and drugs and withdrawal from both, he had a little too much experience with), and it took about half the bowl to go from EAT EVERYTHING NOW to "okay, that's getting to be a little bit too much," and Danny took the bowl back.
"Feel okay?" he asked.
"Yes," Ward said, a little bit sullenly, but it was true; he actually did, and the headache was even going away. He was mainly just tired.
Danny stayed on the edge of the bed, swinging a foot that Ward could feel tapping rhythmically against the underside of the bed. In some ways Danny hadn't changed that much since they were kids; he was still a twitchy little bundle of random nerve impulses, going a dozen different ways at once, especially when his brain was working on something. They should've had those fidget spinner things when they were kids, Ward thought; Danny would have liked those. Maybe he'd still like them. Ward thought maybe he'd buy him one. At the very least it might make him easier to deal with on long plane flights.
"If you've got something to say, you can spit it out," he said wearily. "Yell at me or whatever."
"I'm not going to yell at you. I'm not mad. I was just worried," Danny said, which was blatantly obvious by the way it was written all over his face anyway. "Please just tell me if you need to sit out something I want to do, okay? You don't even have to say why. Just don't ..." He took a breath, and Ward could see him biting back on everything else he wanted to say.
The worst part, Ward knew all of it anyway. He knew Danny wasn't Harold, knew Danny wouldn't hate him or even look at him funny if he admitted that he didn't feel well and needed to spend a day or two just lying down in the hotel.
Which didn't make it any easier to do.
Instead, he said, "Didn't you go fight Davos with a broken leg?"
"That's ..."
"Different? How?"
Danny opened his mouth, shut it, and then he grinned. "It's really annoying when you're right, you know that?"
"Only because it happens so much."
"It's worse when I really want to be mad at you and can't."
"So you admit you're a gigantic hypocrite."
"I admit that we're both idiots and also kind of fucked up," Danny said.
Ward laughed; he couldn't help it. "Kind of?"
Danny smiled and sprawled on the bed, boneless as a cat, propping his chin on his fist. "I get scared because I don't want to lose you, Ward," he said quietly, and Ward had sudden echoes of Danny back in New York, that same naked sincerity: The people that I care about the most ... people like you, Ward. That stupid sincerity; he had no defenses against it. "I don't want to take away your freedom. I just want you to know you can talk to me before it gets this bad."
Ward swallowed, and managed to say, "Again, hypocrite."
"I know," Danny said, and he smiled in a distant kind of way -- like he was looking back into his own past. "How about we both work on it?"
"I'll believe that when I see it," Ward said, and closed his eyes, and he just -- damn it -- he didn't want to be this person who had to push himself 'til he collapsed because he couldn't admit to a simple human weakness. "Yeah, okay, I'll work on it. Good enough?"
"Good enough," Danny said, and poked him in the arm. "Drink."
"Yes, mother," Ward said, exasperated, and reached for the bottle of water.
Whumptober Master List
Oct. 1 - Shaky Hands (Stranger Things) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 2 - Explosion (Iron Fist) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 3 - Delirium #1 (Agent Carter) - On DW | On Tumblr
----- Delirium #2 (Punisher) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 4 - Human Shield (Alliance-Union) - Coming Around on AO3
Oct. 5 - Gunpoint (Iron Fist) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 6 - Dragged Away (Iron Fist) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 7 - Isolation (Alliance-Union) - Reference Points on AO3
Oct. 8 - Stab Wound (Iron Fist) - Deeper Cuts on AO3
Oct. 9 - Shackled (Iron Fist) - Shackles and Bows on AO3
Oct. 10 - Unconscious (Doctor Strange) - Pride Before a Fall on AO3
Oct. 11 - Stitches (Agent Carter) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 12 - "Don't Move" (Punisher) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 13 - Adrenaline (Stranger Things) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 14 - Tear-Stained (MCU - Endgame spoilers) - On DW
Oct. 15 - Scars (Agent Carter/MCU) - Flesh and Blood on AO3
Oct. 16 - Pinned Down (Alliance-Union) - On DW
Oct. 17 - "Stay with me" #1 (Stranger Things) - On DW | On Tumblr
----- "Stay with me" #2 (Iron Fist/Jessica Jones, Ward/Malcolm) - On Tumblr
Oct. 18 - [skip day]
Oct. 19 - Asphyxiation (Agent Carter) - Down in the Dark on AO3
Oct. 20 - Trembling (Iron Fist) - Run Down on AO3
Oct. 21 - Laced Drink (Iron Fist) - Monochrome Delirious on AO3
Oct. 22 - Hallucination (Agent Carter) - On DW | On Tumblr
Oct. 23 - Bleeding Out (Punisher) - Hideout on AO3
Oct. 24 - Secret Injury #1 (Iron Fist) - On DW | On Tumblr
------------ Secret Injury #2 (Defenders) - On DW | On Tumblr
Complete list of prompts.
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This entire fic has an incurable case of adorable, comorbid with poignancy.
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