thecapitol | [closed] it's you, babe

Entry tags:

[closed] it's you, babe

Who| Oliver + Bastien
What| Some TLC leads to a rekindled flame
Where| Oceana's workshop
When| hella backdated to September, during the blackout
Warnings/Notes| Language, references to violence

It seems like the cowardly thing to do, but when you're a man in a dress, you grow up learning the hard way that sometimes you just need to stay safe. So the minute the lights go off--everything goes off, not even the quiet hum of power that's always there in the background--Oceana hightails it to her workroom, which just so happens to have a four-inch steel sliding door among other convenient safety features. And there she stays, trying to stay calm while getting out of her gig. Brushing out her wig, carefully wiping away the makeup. Taking off the padding, the corset, the stockings. Turning back into Oliver.

And Oliver emerges nervous and trembling, terrified that the rioting he can hear out in the halls will somehow reach him in here. That one of his Tributes will somehow turn on him, decide to take out their anger on the drag queen who dresses them up for the benefit of the crowds. So he waits, curled up on a sofa with a closed magazine in his lap, until the inevitable happens--until someone pounds on his door.

And it's Stephen, clutching Holly in his arms and explaining what's happened, and Oliver feels sick to his stomach as he pulls Holly into his own skinny arms, bruised and bleeding. He'll take care of her, his perpetually delightful friend, the one who'd never hurt a fly, harmed at the hands of one of her own tributes. He feels sick; how could anyone do this to someone so sweet, so kind?

Oliver sits Holly down on the sofa, carefully, carefully, fingers fluttering from the poor thing's shoulders to her face, wanting to probe but not to hurt. He realizes that his mouth has gone completely dry.

"What--" He licks his lips, voice cracking, tries to start again. "What happened? Bastien, what did they do to you?" Because it's not Holly, this isn't Holly, battered and bloody, this is the man that Oliver has been in love with since he was seventeen, this is Bastien, and Oliver needs to help him. Needs to fix him.

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Sometimes, things are a blur and you don't know how you've gotten to where you are. But then sometimes things are so clear- so painfully clear that every second that ticks by is experienced with painful clarity and you just wish it could all be over. That you could reach a moment in your life where things aren't quite so painful.

Bastien's gone his entire life feeling like that, masking his depression underneath Holly and occasionally feeling like her happiness has stuck and that he actually is truly happy. But tonight more than ever, each second ticks by like hours. He knew from the moment he approached Eridan that he would regret it, but everything thereafter was just pain. Even blinking in and out of consciousness, all Bastien could feel is pain and the regret of having landed in the position he's in.

But then, gloriously, something bright penetrated that awfulness in the form of Oliver showing up- taking him away. Stupidly, perhaps in a moment of pained delusion, he wonders if this is the end. That maybe whatever afterlife there is, Oliver is the angel taking him to it. So Bastien clings to him, not ever wanting to let him go. It hurts, physically, but he clings to him and drifts in and out of consciousness and it all hurts a little less with Oliver there.

Once Oliver sets him down, Bastien's lucidity returns and he realizes that no, he isn't headed to the afterlife. The angel was real, it really was Oliver. He's alive- alive and in so much pain. His eyebrows furrow and he winces, tears pooling in his eyes. "H-He kept-" His face scrunches up, because talking hurts. "K-kicking me. I-I d-don't know why," he says, his voice shuddering and his body screaming in pain. "I th-thought I was g-going to die."

Oliver's breath leaves him in one long shudder as he finally gets an answer out of Bastien; he winds his arms gently around him, trying to give him as much physical support as he needs, wishing he could just--he doesn't know. Kiss away the pain. Something stupid and off-limits like that. Instead, he props Bastien up on either side with throw pillows, and sets about taking off his wig, gently, pulling out hairpins and easing the lacefront away from his forehead.

"Jesus christ," he whispers, catching sight of the black eye quickly forming under Bastien's makeup. He stands, going quickly to his vanity table, and grabs some supplies--a washcloth, which he runs under warm water, and some makeup wipes. "Listen, Bastien, you can't--can't die." His voice cracks, mouth going dry all over again. "You're not gonna die, you're here with me. You're safe, baby, I've got you." Gently, oh so terribly gently, Oliver starts to clean up Bastien's face, wiping away layers of makeup, slowly revealing the shiner that surrounds one of his eyes.

"I'm gonna murder that little fish fuck," Oliver finds himself muttering. "I'll kill him for what he did to you."

Bastien winces a little as the lace front comes off, because every sense is heightened right now and it feels like everything hurts. But the thing is, he feels the safest right now he's ever felt before. Oliver's presence is comforting, the way he hugs him is even more so. Somewhere through the pain, Bastien finds himself smiling as Oliver begins to clean him up. "I know," he says, because he's always known that Oliver is there for him. There's never been a doubt there.

He lets his eyes close, allowing Oliver to clean him up. Every now and then, he lets out a small whimper or flinches, but he tries his best not to make too much of a fuss so that Oliver doesn't feel bad about it.

But when he speaks again, Bastien's eyes fly open, and it's like he isn't injured at all in the way he pushes himself up and takes Oliver by the shoulders. In this moment, he doesn't feel anything but fear for Oliver. "No!" he says, his eyes wide as can be, full of horror at the idea. "No, please- he'll kill you, you can't- just... j-just stay with me, please?"

Oliver's so surprised at Bastien's vehement protest that he almost drops the washcloth in his hand, eyes flying open wide. "Bast--no, shh, it's fine. I'll stay. I'm right here." With a shaky hand, he cups Bastien's jaw, still not sure if anything's broken or dislocated or what. "I just--I'm so fucking mad that someone did this to you," he admits. "You're the nicest goddamn person I know, you're perfect--but you know I'm too big of a fucking pussy to actually beat the shit out of anyone."

He laughs, shaky, dropping his hand and going back to wiping away the last of Bastien's makeup, swallowing the lump in his throat that's appeared quite suddenly and won't leave. "Tell me where it hurts, okay? As soon as the power comes on we need to take you to Medical."

It's quickly becoming apparent that the temporary boot of adrenaline Bastien had gotten is just that- temporary. He doesn't regret his actions though, even if it does hurt a lot now that he's calmed down. He settles down against the pillows when he has Oliver's word that he won't be going anywhere. Even through the pain, he smiles again at what Oliver says, and it tugs at something deep in his heart.

He isn't sure if it's just the fact that he'd been afraid that he would die, or if it's something more, but it's hard to ignore the fact that he's feeling things for Oliver that he's tried to deny for so long. Right here and right now, he's more grateful for Oliver than he ever has been in his life, and he doesn't know what he would do without him.

For a long moment, he just lets Oliver do his work, until he reaches a particularly tender area and Bastien winces, reaches out to take his wrist. He lets out a sad, pained chuckle. "Ow," he says quietly, but he doesn't let go of Oliver's wrist, not yet. "Th-there's something you need to know." His voice is quiet, breathy and a little ragged. "You're p-perfect too, baby." He tilts his head, so that he can pull Oliver's hand to his lips and kiss his knuckles before letting his wrist go. "I'm the luckiest guy in the world r-right now. I have you all to myself."

Oliver hisses, pulls his hand back as Bastien winces. "Shit, sorry, I--"

The younger man stills, not expecting Bastien to keep talking like that, and his hazel eyes go wide, jaw gaping open slightly. Because that was not at all what he'd expected to hear. Not in the slightest. Bastien calling him baby like that dredges up a lot of old memories, feelings he'd tried to push back down where they came from, but he'd always come up short. When they'd broken up before, Oliver spent a lot of time denying that things between them were as real as they were, pretending it was just a fling. Nothing serious.

But now, even though he's probably got a busted rib and God knows what else, Bastien is kissing Oliver's hand and saying some shit, and Oliver could almost cry. With relief, maybe, it's hard to tell. He smiles, trying not to look as hopeful as he feels right now.

"Bastien," he begins, not really knowing what the right thing to say is. His voicy is shaky, half-laughing, wanting to think that this means what he hopes he does but not quite daring to. "You're...are you hallucinating, or--"

Near death experiences have a way of making you do funny things, it seems. How long has he spent, avoiding anything that would make it seem like he still had feelings for Oliver? And here he is, throwing that all out of the window, but he doesn't actually regret it. It's like something has clicked into place. This experience has made it clear that Oliver is the one constant in his life, the one person he can always depend on.

It's made him wonder why they ever ended things in the first place, because right now any reason seems incredibly stupid, and more than ever he just... wants Oliver. He wants to go back to how things were. He needs him.

Bastien lets out a chuckle at Oliver's reply, regretting that immediately because his ribs are broken and it hurts to laugh. "P-Probably so," he says, his eyes closed. as the wave of pain washes over him. "B-but not about this," he adds. "Not about you." He coughs, and that makes him see stars. "O-Olly-" He coughs again, eye squeezed shut as his hand searches and finds Oliver's hand to give it a squeeze to try and fight the pain. "Wh-why did we do it?" Break up, he means, but he's not lucid enough to realize that Oliver can't read his mind and probably doesn't know what he's even talking about.

Oliver's heart aches as he watches waves of pain wash over Bastien's body, wishing there was something he could do for him, now, instead of waiting. But there's nothing, he has no idea how to fix a broken anything, except maybe a nail. But Bastien's still talking, and what he's saying makes Oliver's stomach churn, vaguely queasy, staring at the other man stock-still.

"Um," he starts, making a quiet, almost hiccuping sound. "Bastien, what are you--"

But he stops. Because it's dumb to play stupid, pretend he doesn't know exactly what he's talking about, here. So he sighs. "I don't know. It--it was a good idea, at the time. Or at least we tried telling ourselves that." He squeezes Bastien's hand back, happy to help him fight off the pain as much as he needs to. He can be strong enough for that, even if he's not strong enough for this conversation.

The pang of hurt he feels when Oliver says that it was a good idea somehow hurts more than the physical injuries he has right now. Then Oliver adds that little bit at the end, and he feels slightly- only so very slightly- better. Because it hadn't been a good idea, he had never believed that, not truly. It had torn him up inside when it had happened, but Oliver is right; at the time, it had seemed like a good idea. His fear of losing Oliver had made him do the stupidest thing imaginable.

But now he knows that that was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. The only way he would lose oliver is if the Capitol took him away, nothing else could separate them.

After a moment or two, Bastien forces his eyes open. Things are blurry, but Oliver comes into focus. It's funny, because he should be feeling nervous or something, but right now he just feels calm. "Was it?" he asks, his voice quiet. "In your opinion...w-was it?" He draws in a slow, shaky breath as he tries to ignore the pain, to stop stuttering out his words. "Because from where I'm at, it... it doesn't seem like it was a g-good idea. I was afraid of losing you, but...I've always had you. S-so why did we make ourselves so unhappy? It's...it's stupid."

As Bastien talks, Oliver can feel himself growing warm. It's almost like embarrassment, but more like--like a really intense awareness of what's happening, of what Bastien's about to say, and the idea of it makes his heart ache in the sweetest way possible. How many times has he wished that he could be sharing Bastien's bed every night, instead of whatever random stranger he's dragged home? How many times has he regretted the way things ended between them, regretted the whole charade of just-friends they've been playing along with these last couple of years? And now, Bastien's asking if it was the right thing, and Oliver only has one answer.

"Fuck no," he says, expression openly relieved. "I regretted it every single fucking day," he goes on, wishing Bastien wasn't injured so he could just. Wrap his arms around him the way he wants to. So he just takes both his hands, lacing their fingers together and giving him a little smile.

"Terrible fucking idea."

That's the answer Bastien knew he would get. Somewhere deep down, he'd known, or at least suspected, they both of them were unhappy with the decision. But there are some things you just can't back out of, and once they were on that road, well- it was what it was. But now, it doesn't even matter. The past is in the past, the only thing that matters right now is that he's seen how stupid the entire thing was.

He squeezes Oliver's hand, his eyes closing again as a smile spreads over his lips. For someone who just got viciously attacked, Bastien looks pretty damn happy. "So let's just... pretend it never happened."

Bastien peeks open an eye after a few seconds, giving Oliver's hand a little nudge with hi own. "I've been waiting f-for you to kiss me for about five minutes now, I can't r-really come to you, Olly." He could, but it would hurt a whole lot.

Oliver can't miss the way Bastien's whole face seems to have lit up, even through the bruising and the battering. And he can feel his face spreading, smile widening, eyes going a little misty with happiness. How many times has he wished for this, and now it's fallen right into his lap? It's too bad this couldn't have happened without Bastien getting the living daylights beat out of him.

And then Bastien says those magic words, and Oliver almost bursts into tears. Eyes welling up, he laughs, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. "Fuck. Sorry. Right." And then he leans in and, gently but not too gently, kisses Bastien. The love of his fucking life.

Bastien has already cried too much, it's as if he doesn't have any tears left. Or maybe it's because he's too damn happy to cry, who even knows. He's just really glad he and Oliver were on the same page here- they always have been, it just took them way too damn long to reach the same paragraph. But here they are, and when Oliver leans in and kisses him, that final puzzle piece falls into place and it's complete. Laminate and frame this bitch, it's not going anywhere.

He's just the right amount of gentle, and Bastien presses up into the kiss as best he can, ignoring any physical discomfort. He's seeing stars for entirely different reasons now, nothing will ever take this moment away from him. He wishes he had the strength to wrap his arms around Oliver, but he doesn't, and after a little bit he succumbs to weakness and pulls away, slumping against the pillows.

"I love you." His voice is breathless. "No matter wh-what happpens, please never forget that. Okay?" After such a terrifying experience, he wants to make sure that if anything worse ever happens, Oliver knows. He can't let Oliver ever doubt it or ever forget it.

Shit. Oliver's pretty sure his heart has just dropped into his stomach, because he practically fucking swoons just from a simple kiss, and that's so completely unlike him that it throws him for a loop. Only it's not so unlike him. It's exactly like the Oliver that's been in love with Bastien since he was seventeen, a baby queen with a shake-and-go wig and a hog body. And it feel so right to just be that Oliver again. He doesn't have to prove anything to anyone.

Oliver lets out a sigh as Bastien pulls away, immediately moving a hand to support behind his neck, thumb rubbing gently over the spot beneath his ear. And, shit, he's getting all choked up. He hadn't anticipated this outcome at all.

"I love you too," he replies, shaking his head with the biggest grin on his face. "Always have." A pause, and then he can't help but add, "Even with a giant fucking black eye."

It's little things like this that are the reason Bastien loves Oliver so deeply. He's so incredibly adorable all of the time. Right now, Bastien is flashing back to when Oliver was younger, that awkward, lovable and endearing personality he had- still has, sometimes. It makes Bastien's heart flutter, and he just laughs, wincing as he does so.

"I remember when you f-first started," he says, his voice teasing, "And you didn't know how to work your eyeliner, both your eyes were black. So don't b-be hating on mine, baby." He's grinning, eyes half lidded as he looks at Oliver. He's really damn tired right now, but he's trying not to sleep, either. "When do you t-think the power's gonna be back on, by the way?"

Oliver just sighs, unable to stifle an eyeroll, a laugh of relief at the half-forgotten memory. "Okay, okay, fair enough." His hand rubs gently across Bastien's shoulder, eyes flitting down now to look over the exposed parts of his body, anxiously checking for any more wounds. Anything else wrong with the best thing in his life.

"I don't know," he murmurs, wishing the lighting weren't so damn dim in his workroom. Luckily, there's a window, so they have moonlight to see by, but it doesn't do much good otherwise. "Hopefully soon. We need to get you some help, 'cause I'm fucking useless." He eyes Bastien's bedraggled drag get-up. "Think we should get you out of the rest of your gig? Unless you want to live out your lifelong dream of going to the ER in drag."

Bastien doesn't mind the moonlight too much, honestly. It may be dim, but he thinks Oliver looks good in the moonlight. You'd think he would be concerned or thinking about other things, but Bastien can really only think of Oliver right now. His eyebrows furrow when Oliver calls himself useless, and he just shakes his head. "You're better for me than any doctor could be," he says. Because now more than ever, he needs hope and Oliver is giving it to him.

But he hesitates at the question, because he really doesn't want to go in drag, but he knows taking it off is going to be painful. "Should probably take it off," he murmurs. "Just... be gentle." He knows Oliver will, but he can't help but say it anyway.

Oliver can't help but smirk. If only that were true, he thinks, but doesn't say. Because he can certainly echo the sentiment; being with Bastien, even being around him, has always made him feel better. Like a therapy dog, or something, except he's not a dog, he's a human being. A really sexy, adorable, lovable human being.

"Don't worry, baby," he croons. "I'll be gentle." His hands, long fingers, gently reach behind Bastien for the zipper of his dress, sliding it down inch by inch and making sure not to jostle him too much. "Let me know if anything hurts, okay?"

It's probably a good idea that Bastien isn't a jedi, or a telepath or something so that he can't listen to Oliver's thoughts. He would definitely be chastising him for them- and cooing, because the idea of therapy dogs is pretty adorable. But it's okay, because he has a therapy Oliver and that's all he needs.

Bastien bites his tongue as Oliver begins to undress him, trying not to make a sound if it jostles something or hurts at all, because he doesn't want Oliver to feel bad. Soon enough, his dress is off and the real damage can be seen. Forming along his abdomen and sides are various bruises, larger than anyone ought to ever have, and the skin is swollen and ugly. Bastien doesn't look down, doesn't want to see just how bad it is.

"I'm still pretty, right?" he asks, half joking, half serious and afraid that this is going to fuck him up for the rest of his life.

Carefully, Oliver peels down the dress, trying hard not to cringe when he sees exactly how bad the bruising is. There's definitely a broken rib--there's a funny bulge in Bastien's skin, purpled and swollen, and Oliver can't help but his slightly at the sight of it.

"Fucking gorgeous," he says, looking up at Bastien with wide eyes and a shaky smile. "You always are." He continues to work the dress over Bastien's hips and down his thighs, letting it pool at his feet, and then going ahead and getting his high heels off. "This dress, on the other hand, is fucked up. I'll try and fix it for you, but I make no promises."

Bastien would be glad that Oliver doesn't mention the broken rib, because he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to look down if that were the case. It's not a way he wants to see himself, as broken as he tends to feel on certain bad days. As it is, Oliver's words do make him feel better and lighter, somehow. It's enough to take the edge off, even if a little.

"I'm sure you can," he says, in a tone that suggests he doesn't believe that Oliver wouldn't be able to. "I've s-seen some of those outfits you put out into the arena. They're flawless, baby. Just like you."

Drag queens are notorious for flirting at the worst possible times, but somehow this is all coming naturally to Bastien.

Oliver rolls those big ol' eyes of his good-naturedly, fussing over Bastien's tights. They're fucked up, so he reaches for a nail file and uses it to gently cut them away from Bastien's waist and then off of his legs.

"You have the worst fucking timing ever," he murmurs. "Making me fall in love with you all over again at a time like this, when I can't even get you naked for a good reason." There. Making light of a shitty situation, that's a good way to ease some of Bastien's upset. He can do this. They can do this--together.

Bastien is beyond the ability to feel modest right now, not that he particularly would under normal circumstances. He's too comfortable with Oliver to even care, but he does wince as the tights come off, jostling his wounds a little as he helps lift to get them off. But it's Oliver's words that really jostle him- because he laughs and it hurts, but he can't help it.

"Don't worry, we've got all the t-time in the world," he says, his voice a little raspy from coughing after all that laughing. "After tonight, you can have me any way you want me."

Oliver's trying so hard to be careful, but it's still hard to see Bastien wince like that. He's pretty sure he'll be okay--he doesn't seem to be dying, or coughing up blood, or anything like that--but he's still inclined to fuss. He knows it'd be the exact same way if the situation were reversed, except Bastien would be fussing and Oliver would be insisting he's too punk for bandages.

He straight-up giggles at Bastien, shaking his head lightly. "Baby, no, try after this month. You're not fucking me with a broken rib."

Bastien has to fake a look of horror at Oliver's response, his mouth dropping open and his eyebrows shooting straight up to heaven. "A month?" He coughs at an unfortunate time, wincing as he does so and further proving Oliver's point. "...Two weeks?" he asks with a little pout to his voice, maybe even pooching his bottom lip out just a little.

Oliver just giggles at how horrified Bastien manages to look, rubbing his back gently as he coughs. "You're not helping your case, here," he quips, but that pout is too cute for him not to budge just a little.

"We'll see what the doctors say in two weeks, and go from there." He leans up to kiss Bastien's forehead. He's not about to let anything happen to this perfect, precious man in front of him--not even himself.

Bastien lets out a huff, annoyed that he had to cough at that exact moment and that Oliver seems so amused by it. Gosh, can anyone blame him for not wanting to wait a month when Oliver is just so... there are no words. There just aren't.

"Fine," he grumbles, deflating a little in a defeated (and pained) manner. It's around that moment that the lights start to flicker to life, and his eyes widen a little. bit. "Oh!" he exclaims. "It looks like things are f-finally going normal again." He lets out a relieved sigh. "I was scared," he admits. "I thought... I thought it was all over." He doesn't say it, but he means he thought maybe the tributes were finally going to take things over, that nothing would return to normal.

He's far too relieved that things are back to normal. But this way, he doesn't risk losing anyone he cares about. Oliver and Jolie, as dangerous as she is right now, are safe. That's really all that matters to him.

Oliver presses another kiss to Bastien's cheek, steering well clear of all those bruises, and then glances up almost in wonderment at the sudden return of the power. The quiet and ever-present hum of life and energy returns, the sound that tends to be forgotten unless it's gone, and immediately Oliver feels more at ease.

"Thank fuck," Oliver mutters, rising and crossing to the steel door to peer through the peephole and out into the hallway. Several Peacekeepers march past, and as much as the sight makes his stomach turn, it also means that things will be back to normal soon. "I'm going to call Medical," he says more loudly, going for his communicator. "Hopefully they'll put you on priority since you're staff."

Bastien lets out a content little hum as Oliver kisses him, and he's pretty sure that it takes away a little bit of the pain. Oliver's kisses are so much better than a dose of morphling could ever be.

He watches as Oliver moves over to look out the door and Bastien can hear the peacekeepers marching by as he does so. It makes him feel safe, but in different sort of way than Oliver does. The kind of safe where he feels tense, like if he steps out of line then suddenly he won't be safe anymore. It's a bit stressful, but he knows this is how it should be.

"I hope so," he murmurs, wanting nothing more than to just get all of this over with so he can ask to sleep on Oliver's couch and just forget everything for a while. "But I won't get m-my hopes up... I'm sure they have lots of people to look after." His expression turns grim, knowing the work the peacekeepers have to do to get everything back under control. "Do you... d-do you think Jolie is safe?" Even though the two of them hadn't ended so well earlier, even though Jolie is doing things she shouldn't, Bastien can't help but worry.

"I'll kick their asses if they try and make you wait," Oliver assures Bastien as he dials, waiting for someone in Medical to answer. Predictably, it takes awhile. Oliver glances up as Bastien asks after Jolie, and he just shakes his head.

"Please. Jolie's the toughest bitch I know. She's fine, I promise you. But we'll call and check on her as soon as these assholes--oh, shit, uh, hi, this is Oliver Gunn--District Nine, yeah, uh, I've got an injured Escort here with me and he needs a doctor like, twenty five minutes ago. Yeah--Bastien Day, District Ten. We're in--oh, yeah, fuck, here, I'll send my location, can you guys send someone now? He's got a broken rib for sure. Alright. Yeah. Thanks--okay, okay, bye."

Oliver heaves a sigh, clicking the communicator shut, and turns to Bastien. That conversation was exhausting in and of itself.

"Right. They're sending someone soon."

There Oliver goes threatening to kick asses again, but this time it's a bit more reassuring than when he'd threatened to go after Eridan. At least this time he knows that Oliver is joking and won't actually do it.

But he's not so sure about Jolie. Bastien has no idea what she's been up to within the last few hours, and considering that this is prime time for rebels, he just hope that Jolie is laying low and not actually doing anything that could get her in trouble. His stomach rolls at the thought, and he tries to put her out of his mind as he listens to Oliver talk on the phone, laughing a little at getting caught insulting them.

It sounds like a stressful call, so he's glad that it's over when it is. "Thanks, boo," he says with a small smile. He reaches out towards Oliver, giving his fingers an impatient little wiggle as he reaches for the other boy. "Hold my haaaand, I miss you."

Obediently, and happily, Oliver crosses back to the sofa, sitting down next to Bastien and taking his hand gently. Without saying anything, he goes ahead and starts planting gentle kisses to the back of it. Lifting his head, he approaches Bastien's ear and murmurs softly.

"I love you. Like, a fucking lot." He's missed being able to say that, he honestly has. And now it's like all that love he's missed out on is overflowing his heart.

Oh, and then there he goes just making his heart flutter up a storm. He isn't expecting Oliver to go that far, but he's glad he does because it's oh so very distracting and takes his mind off all of his worries. His face goes red, and he places a hand on his own cheek, shaking her head in flustered exasperation. "Oh, you..." But he missed hearing it, and being able to say it, too. A whole fucking lot. "Red isn't my color, you've got to stop making me blush like this, baby."

But with Oliver so close after saying that, Bastien can twist a little and press a kiss to his cheek before he moves away. "Which is to say, ditto. Ditty a hundred thousand times."

"But it's so cute," Oliver murmurs back. "I can't help it." Bastien kisses his cheek, and Oliver can't help the little thrill, the little flutter it sends to his stomach. God, it's like he's a sixteen-year-old virgin all over again. Fucking ridiculous.

"Thank god," he can only reply. "Or I'd feel fucking stupid."

Oliver isn't the only one experiencing that little thrill. It's silly, but a part of him is almost... glad... in a weird way, that this all happened. Otherwise, he wouldn't have Oliver in this way. He would always be left with those longing, guilty glances and that feeling of loneliness you get, even when you're with who you want to be. But now he won't have to deal with that anymore.

He giggles, shaking his head. "You'll never have to feel stupid again, th-"

But the words are cut off, because it's at that moment the doors open- there's no polite knock, they just come right in. Even though he's done nothing wrong, he can't help the twinge of fear as the medical team accompanied by a few peacekeepers come in and get to work getting him onto a stretcher to transport him to the hospital. "Don't leave me, please," he says, looking right at Oliver and ignoring everyone else. He knows they might try and separate the two of them, so he just clings to Oliver's hand like it's his only lifeline.

Oliver jolts a little as their little reverie is interrupted by the sudden arrival of medics and peacekeepers. He stands up, trying hard to stay calm, to make sure that nothing comes between the two of them as they load Bastien up.

"Don't worry, babe," he murmurs as they strap a monitoring device around Oliver's wrist. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

He's glad that Oliver seems to be staying calm, because suddenly everything is a lot scarier and he needs a rock to hang onto. Luckily, he seems to manage to hang onto Oliver's hand the entire time even as the get him loaded up. "Thank you," he manages to murmur out, suddenly finding it hard to use his words. His pain is greater now that there's so much going on, his whole body just sort of feels like lead. Soon enough, they're on the way to the hospital and thankfully Oliver is right there beside him, which makes it a little easier to handle everything.

Oliver tries his best not to get in the way, and once a medic tries to ask him to get out of the way, which is met with a glare and stubborn refusal. He's going to stay by Bastien's side no matter what; he's not going anywhere unti he's sure that his boyfriend is patched up and going to be okay. As they get ready to take him out the door, Oliver places a kiss on the crown of his head and lets go of his hand.

"Don't worry, Bastien, I'll be right behind you the whole way. I promise." He intends to keep his promise, too. He's determined to be by Bastien's side through this, and they'll both come out better for it.

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[closed] it's you, babe

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