Title: Partners

Rating: PG (for language)

Pairing: Reno/Rude

Summary: Reno gets hurt and wants to cuddle.

Warnings: Mild language. And fluff.

Anyway...I'm not very happy with all the "yo's" but it didn't sound right without them, cause I picture Reno saying that when he's really being pushed, but other than that I'm very happy with it.

Photo credit: 161296

Updated Note 2017: So I've been gone for like...10 years on some fics. I'm fixing a lot of terribly embarrassing errors on all of my fics, and completely re-writing some of them. This one I was pleasantly surprised with, so I left most of it the same.

Partners

Rude drudged into the room slowly as Reno collapsed onto the shabby bed they were sharing. They had been there for a week, chasing down a rogue informant that had used Reno's own EMR against him, giving the redhead two bruised ribs and a concussion. Rude however, escaped with only a scratch on his left cheek from his now shattered sun glasses.

"Rude," said Reno in a breathy voice, hoarse from exhaustion. "Help me get this damn shirt off. Let's see what that bastard did."

Rude sat next to his partner and undid the shirt, button by button, revealing a large midnight-purple bruise against Reno's porcelain skin. He brushed his fingers over the bruise once, making Reno wince.

"Yo, that hurts!"

But Rude said nothing and instead pulled out a small green bottle from the inside of his jacket. Reno shook his head as vehemently as he could.

"NO. I feel sick. That shit's just gonna resurrect lunch."

Again Rude said nothing, giving his stubborn partner a piercing look. Reno gave in and sighed, tried to get up, and yelped as pain shot up his spine. So Rude helped him and tilted his head back gently, pouring the glowing green liquid down his throat. Reno coughed and sputtered but swallowed it all none the less. Gradually, the bruise faded to a dull color.

Two hours later, Reno stumbled out of the bathroom; he had been throwing up—just as he said he would. He fell onto the bed again, beside Rude, who was trying to get to sleep—but his conscious kept nagging him. Reno had an aversion to potions, which was unfortunate in their line of work. And the redhead's personality did not include words like "cautious" or "self-preservation." So that meant Rude had to be the responsible one, the vigilant one. But it didn't mean he should take all of the blame when Reno got injured.

Just as Rude had shut that stupid voice up, he felt someone press into his back, shuffle around a bit, and burrow into the back of his neck.

"Reno," he huffed. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doin' yo?"

They were partners. Anything other than that was not smart. "Back off Reno."

"You're the one who poured that crap down my throat."

Reno took Rude's silence as consent, and tried to make himself comfortable again, but Rude shifted until their eyes met.

"Roll over," he grunted.

"What?" Reno's face fell, rejection clearly visible.

Rude brought one of his shovel-sized hands up to Reno's shoulder and lightly shoved, effectively rolling him over. Reno made a dejected keening sound, before an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back against a warm chest, tucking him under a strong chin.

It started raining outside, the faint patta-putta-patta-putta sinking in and lulling Reno to sleep. Rude felt his partner melt into his arms as a slow wave of calm washed over him. So just before he let sleep take him, Rude pressed a kiss to Reno's hair, inhaling the scent as it soothed him.