topgunkinkmeme | Prompt Post #1

Prompt Post #1

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Some of the other people in the unit start hazing/bullying Bob, presumably because he's the odd man out. Bob initially thinks he can handle it, and keeps it to himself, not wanting to look weak to the others, but eventually it gets out of control, and he has to go to Phoenix for help.

I'd prefer if Bob wasn't a total woobie, in that he's a military officer and a kick ass guy, but would like Phoenix being the strong comforting one.

Desperately want someone to write this.

You up, Phee?

I'm up

You should be asleep

I know
I might have slightly panicked re: test tomorrow + decided rereading the entire electrical section would somehow help

Please don't panic I need you calm + clearheaded
I want to literally and figuratively live Phee

lol
You will literally and figuratively live because of the high standards to which I hold myself BOB you're WELCOME
BTW why are you up

I'm sorry to bother you

what's up
seriously

....
....
....

Talk to me, Bob it;s late

You won't judge / jump to conclusions?

What? I guess?

I have a cut on my back I thought would have healed by now
It's in a weird place and I can't really see it even in the mirror
It keeps re-opening I think? IDK
I'm trying to figure out

When did you get a cut? Why didn't you go to the medic
I'm so confused right now?

It's complicated

Complicated How? Try to send me a picture I guess?

....

WHAT THE FUCK BOB

You said you wouldn't judge

Well I'm judging + I'm coming over asshole what the fuck

You absolutely do NOT need to do that
I shouldnt have said anything

TOO FUCKING LATE BOB

*

"Let's go in the bathroom; I think the light's best there." Phoenix pushed past him, but not before she noticed the stiff, pained way he held himself. Even in the 2 AM semi-darkness, she could tell something was really wrong.

"Phoenix--"

"No arguing. You're my backseater. This effects me. Got it?"

Bob nodded, but didn't meet her eyes. He had the good sense to look contrite.

"Take your shirt off."

Bob pressed his lips together and looked away.

"Ok, at least turn around and I'll lift it."

Bob slowly obeyed. He was wearing navy sweatpants and a thin, gray t-shirt. The harsh fluorescent light of the dormitory head lit up dark circles under his eyes. The only sound was the overworked air conditioner, straining against the harsh Nevada heat.

Something about the defeated way Bob turned around and leaned on the counter, his head falling and eyes squeezing shut, made her anger evaporate. There was blood on his shirt, both wet and dry, and his hair was mussed like he had been trying to sleep. When she lifted the shirt he winced, pieces of skin pulling away with the fabric.

"I put first aid spray on it . . ." his voice trailed off. He didn't dare look at her face in the mirror. He couldn't imagine ever meeting her eyes again, truth be told.

She said nothing for a long time.

His back, the part she could see, was covered with cuts and bruises. Some of the bruises were old and yellowed, others were a fresh, angry red. A large gash yawned gruesomely on his lower back, weeping blood.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and full of astonishment. "Bob, how did this--"

"Don't--don't worry about it." He tried to turn around but she pressed him back.

"No. How old is the cut?" she insisted, trying to keep her voice measured. Her heart raced as the anger came flooding back, this time redirected--directed at those assholes--there had to be more than one, since Bob was too strong to go down without quite a fight. She ground her teeth, trying to stay in control.She heard him let out a long breath. His body was rigid with pain and tension. How could possibly have hid this? They were together just a few hours ago.

"72 hours."

She sucked in a breath. "Who--this needs stitches. There's no question. And you have to report--"

"You know I can't do that, Phee. If I get branded a narc it'll follow me my whole career. I'm the odd man out, I get it. But I just have to get through this. I know you understand."

She did. She knew.

She silently cursed herself for saying the wrong thing. But she didn't know the right to say, either. She thought she would boil over with anger, like a pot left on a stove too long. She let go of shirt, letting him turn around. She clenched and unclenched her fists.

He was looking at her, concerned. "I have a commission, Phee. I'm an officer. I can't back down and I won't."

She had to resist the urge to reach out to him. She wanted to be held by him, suddenly. Not in a romantic way, but she wanted to hugged, her face pressed against his strong shoulders, something solid.

She loved the Navy, except sometimes, when she hated it. All of life was like that, she supposed. She was transported back to her ROTC days, bare hands on the freezing, wet grass, doing push-ups in the semi-darkness of an Indiana dawn.

"Hey, where'd you go?" Bob was searching her face.

"I'm sorry, I..." She shrugged helplessly.

"I shouldn't have brought you into this. I should have--"

"Don't say that. We're a team. We help each other." She looked away before he could say anything else.

"You do need stitches." She was relieved, suddenly, to have hit on an action item. Something about that started to dispel the choked, angry helplessness she felt. Here was something she could do, something she could accomplish.

She fumbled in the pocket of her hoodie for her phone. "It looks like... nearest 24 hour urgent care is in...Silver Springs." She winced. "That's 45 minutes. We'll take your car, but I'll drive--"

"No."

Phoenix's eyebrows went up but Bob's tone brooked no argument. "If you say I need stitches, I need stitches. But you're not coming."

She started to open her mouth but thought better of it.

"I'm perfectly capable of driving and sitting in a waiting room," he continued. "I want you to sleep for a couple of hours. For the sake of mission safety," he added, giving her a wink.

"Okay. But--only because it was your idea."

"Okay."

He already looked different. His shoulders were squared and the defeated, ashamed look was gone. "Sleep here, if you want. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you didn't walk across base again at this hour. People will think you're doing the walk of shame and I can't shake the feeling Hangman will get somehow get credit."

She laughed. "We can't take that chance." Everything is going to be ok.

"I'm leaving my phone on though, just in case. You have to call if you need anything."

"Ok."

"Ok." The idea of her head on a pillow had already wormed itself irrevocably into her consciousness.

*

There were dark spots on the sheets. Blood, she realized. She vaguely heard car keys jingling. By time the door to the outside opened and closed quietly she was already asleep.

*

Their alarms went off at the same: hers, "Manic Monday" by the Bangles, his, the Navy fight song. She made a mental note to mock him about it later.

He was asleep on the couch as she blinked awake. She remembered her bra was on the floor and she made a move to scoop it up before turning on the light and looking for her hoodie. The Fighting Irish logo on the corner pocket felt vaguely comforting.

"How was it?"

Bob was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I got stitches and an incredibly awkward lecture on 'safe relationships' from the nurse who sewed me up."

"Nice." She started to put on her running shoes. "That'll come in handy if you ever put the moves on that radar chick. I bet she's dangerous as shit."

Bob laughed. "How can you joke at this hour?"

"Well, I had a little more sleep than you." She shot him a grateful look. He gave her an 'anytime'-type nod.

"You can wear that to PT, right?"

"That's the plan. The coffee shop is open. If I dash over there it'll give me a reason to be on this side of base."

"Clever. That'll come in handy if you ever put the moves on that tall Puerto Rican guy in comms--"

"Shut up!" she laughed. Her shoes tied, she stood up and zipped her hoodie.

They were silent a minute.

"Phoenix--"

"You don't have to say anything--"

"Can I just say 'thanks'?"

"If you don't make it weird," she smirked.

He put his hands on her upper arms. She could still see the physical pain and exhaustion, but the worry and defeatedness were gone, replaced by determination.

"Phee--we're going on this mission. I know; we've said it before. But driving back last night, something changed for me. I know it in my bones, now. That I'm capable. You made me see it. So . . . thank you."

"I thought we agreed not to make it weird," she whispered.

He laughed and let her go. "Ok, get out of here. Take a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge. I can't have my chauffeur dehydrated."

She didn't say anything else, but she looked back at him, after she took the water, when she opened the door.

Her look seemed to say, you're welcome.

_____

Thank you for the prompt, thank you for reading, and that you for all of you who are making this the most exciting fandom in a long time. I hope the person who make this prompt likes it.

Clearly I need a beta, so if anyone is interested--comment I guess?

I am--maybe--trying to write a Natasha-centric Space Opera AU, but I'm not good at finishing long things, so send good thoughts my way.

OP here

This was great! I really like the balance you hit about how hard it's all been on Bob, but him wanting to stand on his own and not be babied. The friendship between them is so wonderful <3 <3 <3

I'm so glad you liked it <3 Thank you for the prompt

I was so excited by this prompt and I love your take on it so much! Phoenix and Bob delighted me in the movie and this was such a nice take on their relationship. I feel warm and fuzzy now.

Thank you so much!

sorry I forget to label

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Prompt Post #1

Bob/OCs, Bob & Phoenix, hazing & hurt comfort

Re: Bob/OCs, Bob & Phoenix, hazing & hurt comfort

Re: Bob/OCs, Bob & Phoenix, hazing & hurt comfort

Re: Bob/OCs, Bob & Phoenix, hazing & hurt comfort

Re: Bob/OCs, Bob & Phoenix, hazing & hurt comfort

Re: Bob/OCs, Bob & Phoenix, hazing & hurt comfort

Re: Bob/OCs, Bob & Phoenix, hazing & hurt comfort

FILL ABOVE,