Chapter Text
“Kid, I don’t care what you have to do,” Sully muttered under his breath. “Set a fire, fake a heart attack, give me something that I can–”
Nate gritted his teeth as he moved toward the rail. “Oh, this is gonna suck.” He planted one foot on the top rail, launched himself forward, and reached for the elongated lights dangling from the high ceiling. The modernized, sleek chandelier moved with him and clattered against the surrounding ones.
“Well, that was something, kid,” Sully’s voice echoed from the earpiece.
Nate clung to the glass and smirked at his pursuers as they called threats from behind the railing. “Why don’t you come out here then?” he taunted.
Something cracked above him, and the chandelier fell, dropping a couple feet before jolting to a stop. Nate lost his grip on the slick glass and slid to the end of the chandelier, barely regaining his hold before the fixture swung forward.
“Oh, shit!” Nate cried out before it slammed into the nearest one. Glass peppered his body, settling in his hair and nicking any exposed skin, mostly his hands. Like a wind chime from Hell, the other chandeliers echoed a similar tune as each one was struck by its neighbor. Some shattered. Others somehow remained intact. People screamed from below, and Nate could make out their blurry forms leaving the auction house in a panicked frenzy. Glass rained down onto the floor below.
The chandelier jolted as it dropped again, and Nate tightened his grip as he swung in a dangerous arc again. The top of the fixture hit an unbroken light, and Nate lurched forward and upward. Glass bit into his skin as his saving grace shattered between his hands. His stomach soared into his throat as he fell for what seemed like an eternity before hitting the floor below on his back.
Breath whooshed from his lungs. Nate remained motionless for a moment, trying to force his body to remember how to breathe. His back stung, and he told himself the wet feeling was sweat coating it. In the corner of his eye, he saw Sully move to a side door with a briefcase.
“Hey,” Nate croaked before clearing his throat. “Sully? You can’t leave me.”
“Sorry, kid,” Sully said. “It’s just the rules of the game.”
Game? Really? A flash of hurt and anger lit through his body like flames hitting gasoline. Playing with people's lives, twisting them to suit your needs, was far from being a game. Rage pushed him to his feet as security surrounded him. Nate immediately went into a spiel of words that he only half understood as he backed toward the entrance.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyers,” he said. Only another few steps and he could dart out the door. “That railing is an unsafe atrocity. I mean, look at it and tell–” As soon as the guards looked toward the rail, Nate turned and booked it out of the auction house.
***
Nate climbed into the planned escape car and leaned his back against the seat with a wince. With the adrenaline fading after having lost his pursuers, the pain kicked in. His muscles screamed at him with every tiny movement. Only when he heard the opposite door open did he school his expression into a neutral one as Sully climbed into the car while telling the driver the next destination. The man’s eyes widened briefly as he finally noticed Nate.
“Yeah,” Nate snapped. “Thought you lost me, didn’t you?”
Sully shrugged. “It just means you can take care of yourself.”
“I already knew that. Been doing it long enough.”
Sully changed the subject. “Alright, we’ll drop you off at your apartment and–”
“No,” Nate said. “I’m going with you. I’m all in.”
They glared at each other for a few seconds. Nate knew Sully wanted to cut him out of the money, but it wasn’t about the money. Not to Nate.
“Fine,” Sully replied. “Plane leaves in five hours. We’ll check into a motel and get a few hours sleep until then.”
Sleep sounded lovely. Nate hid his discomfort as much as he could, but he couldn’t stop himself from sitting up straight. Anytime his back would brush against the seat, flares of pain would shoot through it. As they arrived at the run-down motel, Nate braced himself for moving again once the car stopped. He barely repressed a pained groan as he climbed out of the vehicle. The overwhelming odor of cigarette smoke and beer made Nate’s nose wrinkle as they walked into the main office.
“One bed or two?” the middle-aged man croaked from behind the counter, sounding as if smoked a pack per hour.
Nate’s face twisted in disgust at that insinuation. The thought of sharing a bed with Sully, even platonically, was almost a fate worse than death. Maybe more-so. “Two.”
“I was going to make you sleep on the floor,” Sully mocked as he handed the man cash for a room key. They moved outside as the bickering continued.
Nate scoffed. “I want a bed, and the auction house proved you’re not a decent partner.”
“Well, the ladies never complain.”
“I’m going to pretend you never said that.”
When they entered the room, Nate wanted nothing more than to collapse onto one of the full-sized beds and sleep for days. He placed his bag on the closest bed and pulled off the black suit jacket. He tossed it onto the floor and started pulling off the tie.
“Shit, kid,” Sully’s voice was laced with something that sounded a lot like concern, but Nate wasn’t holding his breath on that.
“What?” Nate asked.
Sully ran a hand through his hair. “I knew you were more tense than usual, but this explains it. Get that shirt off.”
Nate unbuttoned the shirt. “How bad is it?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be telling you to take your shirt off.”
“Ha, real funny,” Nate muttered. “It’s probably just some glass.” Nate pulled the shirt off with a hiss of pain as it pulled at his back. Red splotches scattered around the white material.
“That’s more than ‘some’ glass,” Sully deadpanned. “I’ll go see if they have a first aid kit at the main office.”
Nate waved him off. “I brought one. Sam always told me to keep one on me when I’m doing something reckless. He was right.” He dug through his bag and grabbed the kit tucked away at the bottom.
Sully turned on all the lamps he could and gathered some washcloths from the bathroom. He opened the first-aid kit and placed it next to him. After a few minutes of gentle prodding, Sully moved to the bathroom and wet the washcloth..
“I’m not going to lie, kid,” Sully said. “This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch.”
Nate heaved a sigh. “Just get it over with.”
As soon as the warm water touched his back, Nate hissed in pain but forced himself to stay still as Sully cleaned the areas around the embedded glass. Once he was done, Nate heard wrappers opening as Sully pulled out gauze pads.
Nate tensed, knowing what was coming. “You clean the tweezers with alcohol?”
“I’m not stupid. Of course I did.”
“You sure about–” Nate sucked air through clenched teeth as Sully pulled at the first shard.
Sarcasm seeped into Sully’s tone. “Keep talkin’ like that and I can make things a lot worse for you.”
Fire raced down his back with each shard Sully pulled from underneath the skin. Nate wasn’t sure how long had passed before Sully moved on to another method to get the smaller pieces out. A needle dug into his skin, picking and prying at it to get to the glass underneath.
Nate pulled away with a cry of pain as it became too much. “Dammit, Sully!”
Sully backed off, holding his hands up. “Sorry, kid, but we have to get it all out or it’ll get infected. Just take a breather.”
“A breather.” Nate scoffed. “At the rate you’re going, I’m going to pass out before it’s over.”
“At least I wouldn’t have to listen to your mouth if you did,” Sully argued. “If you’re going to pass out, lay down. I ain’t catching you.”
Lying down was probably a good idea, Nate thought. He pushed himself to his feet and swayed momentarily before easing himself onto his stomach on the side of the bed. Sully pulled over the lone desk chair and situated himself next to Nate. As Sully began to work again, the man teased.
“When I told you to create a distraction, nothing I suggested fell into the self-harm category.”
Nate breathed through another painful piece of glass being pulled from his skin. The room tilted, and he closed his eyes. “If I faked a heart attack, they would’ve got an AED. There was one by the main entrance.”
Sully shook his head. “That’s a heck of a thing to notice in a place like that.”
“Well, it could save someone’s life someday,” Nate said. “Why not notice it?”
After a few minutes of Nate flinching away from the needle and tweezers, Sully was confident he got all the glass. “Good news, I think that’s all of it. Bad news, we don’t have any peroxide.”
Nate’s eyes snapped open. “You’re not dumping alcohol onto it.”
“We don’t have any other choice,” Sully said. “You’re a bartender, you’re supposed to like alcohol.”
“Yeah, the drinking kind. Not rubbing.” When he watched Sully grab the small bottle of alcohol, Nate buried his face in the comforter. “I hate this job.”
“Sorry, kid,” Sully said as he opened the top. “It’ll be over soon.” He handed the younger man a smaller roll of gauze. “Bite on this or you’ll crack your teeth. This job doesn’t pay out dental.”
Nate didn’t chuckle at the joke as he placed the gauze between his teeth, and Sully took it as his cue to start. He gently cleaned the blood away with the washcloths, then poured the rubbing alcohol over the cuts. Nate immediately tensed and held his breath. His fists clenched into the comforter. As Sully moved the alcohol further down his back, he was grateful the gauze mostly muffled the agonized groans.
“Almost done,” Sully said. “Just hang in there.”
Nate breathed laboriously. His eyes were screwed shut, and sweat coated his brow. His body trembled in a mix of pain and exhaustion. Once Sully cleaned the final gash near the waistband of Nate’s pants, he capped the alcohol and grabbed the gauze pads.
“Worst part’s over,” Sully said.
Nate’s shaky hand pulled the gauze from his mouth. “T-thank God.”
By the time Sully was done, most of Nate’s back was covered in gauze and tape. “Alright. That’s it.” When Nate didn’t respond, Sully stood up and moved up to his head. He scoffed. “Passed out at the end. Your luck is almost as bad as mine, kid.”
Sully cleaned the mess of bloodied gauze, clothes, and glass before collapsing onto his own bed. Before turning off the last lamp, he checked to make sure Nate’s breathing was consistent.
Sam Drake’s younger brother was proving to be one reliable son-of-a-bitch.
Just like Sam said he would if Nate and Sully ever met.