thecapitol | don’t wanna let you down but i am hellbound

Who| Chuck Hansen and Derek Souza
What| waking up after the mini arena
Where| hospital/med area
When| backdated to the mini arena
Warnings/Notes| probably mentions of death and violence? will update as needed

The first time Derek wakes up, he thinks he’s still in the arena. There’s no other explanation for why he’s waking up at all - he’d known that if he didn’t win the arena, he was going to die. So he wakes up fighting, snarling and clawing and attacking anything that moves, whatever’s trying to pin him down.

They sedate him, but before he goes under, he hears their explanation. This isn’t the arena, they’d grabbed him before he died, he was saved by Snow’s benediction, and so were all of the mentors who’d been reaped.

So was Chuck.

The second time he wakes up, that’s all he can think about. It’s hard to believe when he held Chuck in his arms and watched him fade, when he heard the cannon sound in the arena - he heard that cannon twenty three times in his own arena, and not one of them ever came back.

He has to see for himself. If there’s even the slightest chance that it’s true, Derek can’t just lay in a hospital bed. He struggles up out of it, taking a moment to brace himself against the side of the bed while his legs get steady again.

Then he’s off, prowling around the hospital and ignoring the pain from his injuries or the way his stitches pull at his skin, intent only on finding his best friend.

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It's surreal, having this. He's almost sure it's a dream, like the ones the Capitol threw weeks ago that went bad halfway through. It's a reminder, but not one they ever needed. Still, it's good having this, the pain, the haze, the soft comfort of his best friend pressed against him. Chuck almost feels as if he's holding tight to a buoy in the middle of a storm, the only thing keeping him from going under the waves. One false move and he's gone.

It's unnerving, not knowing where he stands. But he does, he made a promise while dying, and he'll keep it. They both will, unknowingly.

"I know," he murmurs, an answer to both statements really, because he does. He'd known it was unfair to ask, knows it didn't work. But he doesn't know it all, really. He doesn't know how long Derek lasted, how far he git, what took him out in the end. He'd feel sick, knowing it was a twisted, savaged form of himself that killed Derek. So maybe it's good he hasn't seen it yet, though there's no way he can avoid it forever.

But whatever, that's too much thought right now. Instead, chuck breathes in and out, stroking a hand over Derek's loose hair, gathering himself. And then he pushes back from the edge of the bed, very carefully.

"C'mon," he pats the edge of the bed, wriggling backwards to make room for Derek to follow him up. The doctors probably won't like it, but fuck them, chuck doesn't care what they have to say. "You're staying here."

There's probably a part of him, of both of them, that's still in shock, and Derek knows enough to be dimly aware of that. Neither of them expected to come back when they were dying, for the Capitol to swoop in and save them at the last minute, granting them a second chance.

They're on borrowed time, maybe, but Derek doesn't care. They already were, anyway.

He gives a soft rumble at Chuck's response, relief coursing through him. Derek isn't sure how much Chuck knows, how long Chuck's been back here, if he saw any of Derek's final moments in the arena. Later he'll worry about that, because he doesn't want Chuck to see what happened but he knows it's inevitable, but right now, all he can think about is Chuck being here.

There's a grumble of protest when Chuck starts pushing back, but it fades at what he says. Then he pushes up equally carefully, trying not upset his injuries more than he already has, gingerly setting himself down on the bed.

"Not sure I could make it back anyway."

He doesn't bother thinking about it, because it makes him uneasy. They should be dead, but they're not, and that's fucking great, it is. But damn, there's no way they didn't get the message behind this. The Capitol is both Executioner and Savior, deciding fates with the flick of a wrist. They have a second chance, borrowed time added to their already borrowed slot.

They won't waste it, can't.

Not when Chuck knows first hand just what they can and will do. Not when he's got Derek bleeding and aching at his feet, stolen mere moments from death. Horror lodges in his throat and stays there, even as Derek makes soft comforted noises, crawling up in the bed, alive, alive, alive.

"Good." Chuck huffs, shifting carefully so that none of his other stitches pop. The bed isn't that comfortable at all, but it doesn't matter. Chuck waits for Derek to resettle, tugs up the sheets around them -- fuck you he's cold, these gowns are good for nothing -- and curls around his best friend. There's a pleased rumble as he rests his cheek on Derek's chest, careful with the wound stretched across his stomach as he moves his arms, and relaxes in so much as he can.

In this moment, climbing into the hospital bed and letting Chuck settle himself against him, Derek can't feel anything but grateful. He thought he lost everything, and now the Capitol's given it back to him.

This is everything right here, curled up in his arms.

Derek carefully curls his arm around Chuck's back, hand settling on the back of Chuck's head and fingers stroking through his hair. He closes his eyes, listening to the sound of Chuck's breathing, feeling his breath against his chest, sliding his thumb around to feel the beat of Chuck's heart from the pulse in his neck.

He's alive.

"Go back to sleep," he rumbles. "We're gonna need it."

Chuck might not have all those memories of watching his best friend die in his arms, but he never expected to wake up. Certainly didn't expect to have this again. How can he be anything but grateful in this one moment? Snow's benediction saved them, gave them everything back.

He cannot forget that.

It's fucking relaxing, all the weight stripped off his shoulders, when Derek curls around him like that. It's familiar, easy, almost immediately Chuck's feeling the grasp of sleep tugging at him. There's a grumble that's all show, nuzzling closer as Derek runs his fingers through his hair and strokes his thumb against the pulsepoint at his neck.

Yeah, yeah he gets it.

It's why he rests his head against Derek's chest, moving with each breath, the strong, reliable beat of his heart a lullaby. Soon enough, he's asleep, between one breath and another. He's safe here, with Derek, it's okay.

don’t wanna let you down but i am hellbound

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wrap this up here?

yes ma'am!