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Whumptober Day 27: Muzzled
This was actually one of the first snippets I wrote for this project back in September, because it's such an unusual prompt that it caught my eye. (I was going to say "And one I haven't written" and then remembered that I wrote a whole entire fic about this, in this fandom, even. LOOK, I'VE WRITTEN A LOT OF FIC OKAY.)
No. 27: VOICELESS
Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”
Bigglesworth unbuckled the straps from Erich's hands first, white-faced, working without speaking, and then reached for the iron monstrosity clamped around his face. Now that his hands were free, tingling from the blood flowing back into them, Erich had already slapped a hand to it, frantically trying to dig his fingers under its metal edge without regard for the way he was clawing at his own skin. Bigglesworth closed his fingers over Erich's for a minute (warm by contrast, he hadn't realized his hands were so icy), and then started working on the straps behind his head. Erich was also tearing at them as they came off, and the thing was finally ripped away from his face. Erich wrenched it from Bigglesworth's hands and flung it into a corner, where it clattered on the floor and narrowly missed Hebblethwaite, who had just come down the stairs into the cellar.
Without pausing for a beat, Hebblethwaite said, "I see you found him. Do you need a hand?"
"No, we're all right here. Go help Bertie finish securing the area."
Hebblethwaite turned at that, with a sharp nod, barely glancing at Erich, and went back upstairs. For all the seeming chaos of the way they worked together, Erich thought, there was good discipline on this crew. His mind felt sluggish and vague.
Bigglesworth didn't ask anything about the equipment around them, and Erich didn't ask what had happened to the scientists and guards -- he'd heard a lot of gunfire and crashing upstairs. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure he could ask anything. His mouth was horribly dry, his jaw sore from the pressure of the metal frame clamped over his face. He worked his jaw and swallowed.
"Water?" Bigglesworth asked, and offered a flask. Erich sipped at it, and Bigglesworth kept a hand in the middle of his back, a steady and firm pressure he could lean back into, while he slowly got his mouth working again. He cleared his throat.
"I assume there's an aeroplane waiting nearly." The words rasped a little, but it was his own voice, the words perfectly clear, and it was an incredible relief to hear the sound of his own voice after nearly two days of wearing that abomination.
"As always. Can you stand?"
Erich slid off the metal table immediately. The small, firm hand stayed pressed against his back, letting go only when he was steady on his feet -- and even then stayed close; he could feel the light almost-touch as they went up the stairs. He kept wanting to touch his face, he could still physically feel the mask on him, but he knew it was gone, and when Bigglesworth's hand lightly brushed his back, he also knew that he didn't have to speak to be heard.
No. 27: VOICELESS
Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”
Bigglesworth unbuckled the straps from Erich's hands first, white-faced, working without speaking, and then reached for the iron monstrosity clamped around his face. Now that his hands were free, tingling from the blood flowing back into them, Erich had already slapped a hand to it, frantically trying to dig his fingers under its metal edge without regard for the way he was clawing at his own skin. Bigglesworth closed his fingers over Erich's for a minute (warm by contrast, he hadn't realized his hands were so icy), and then started working on the straps behind his head. Erich was also tearing at them as they came off, and the thing was finally ripped away from his face. Erich wrenched it from Bigglesworth's hands and flung it into a corner, where it clattered on the floor and narrowly missed Hebblethwaite, who had just come down the stairs into the cellar.
Without pausing for a beat, Hebblethwaite said, "I see you found him. Do you need a hand?"
"No, we're all right here. Go help Bertie finish securing the area."
Hebblethwaite turned at that, with a sharp nod, barely glancing at Erich, and went back upstairs. For all the seeming chaos of the way they worked together, Erich thought, there was good discipline on this crew. His mind felt sluggish and vague.
Bigglesworth didn't ask anything about the equipment around them, and Erich didn't ask what had happened to the scientists and guards -- he'd heard a lot of gunfire and crashing upstairs. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure he could ask anything. His mouth was horribly dry, his jaw sore from the pressure of the metal frame clamped over his face. He worked his jaw and swallowed.
"Water?" Bigglesworth asked, and offered a flask. Erich sipped at it, and Bigglesworth kept a hand in the middle of his back, a steady and firm pressure he could lean back into, while he slowly got his mouth working again. He cleared his throat.
"I assume there's an aeroplane waiting nearly." The words rasped a little, but it was his own voice, the words perfectly clear, and it was an incredible relief to hear the sound of his own voice after nearly two days of wearing that abomination.
"As always. Can you stand?"
Erich slid off the metal table immediately. The small, firm hand stayed pressed against his back, letting go only when he was steady on his feet -- and even then stayed close; he could feel the light almost-touch as they went up the stairs. He kept wanting to touch his face, he could still physically feel the mask on him, but he knew it was gone, and when Bigglesworth's hand lightly brushed his back, he also knew that he didn't have to speak to be heard.
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(And I also thought, you've written this prompt for Biggles before? where? I must go and read it at once - because I have no memory and also because 'muzzled as a werewolf' is a whole different trope in my head. Though the going to read it at once bit still holds...)
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Anyway, very delighted you liked it; it's definitely a Particular Taste, but finding new ways to torture Erich is always a good time.
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But aside from that I love this very much, Erich trying to tear the thing off his face while Biggles is still unfastening it, oh my heart, and the way Biggles touching his back grounds him and holds him up and... ugh. Perfect.
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But yes, thank you! I admit that the image of EvS trying to claw it off his face was part of what got me going on this.
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Also: All! The! Hand! On! Back! Touching! Thank you so much.