extent | duplicitynet

Oh same.

[ nick makes the comment with a weak smile, a flippant sort of comment to hide just how horrific this is. he's incredibly slow about moving any closer to the source of the injury, hand inching up his back. ]

Okay. Um, Sam? This isn't going to feel, like, nice, but try to stay still.

[ not moving isn't normally a condition for his healing, but well. it's been a big week. ]

Be careful.

[ he stays right where he is, petting sam. ]

... this reminds me, we need to talk about your plants.

'm not moving.

( he's even closing his eyes again. the physical pain isn't really a problem anyway. )

Why do we need to talk about my plants?

[ while he talks, he starts working on the jagged wounds. nick's brand of magic doesn't make for particularly pleasant healing, it's all about remaking and regrowing cells and tissue, pulling apart the bits that have already been partway healed so that they can form correctly. it's skin and flesh and muscle tearing, scar tissue reforming the way it's supposed to be, the way nick wants it to form, all happening in rapid speed. ]

I didn't realize how many they were. When Oliver tried to track you, they popped up all over the city.

[ he's still petting sam, the conversation is just something to fill the silence with. ]

( nick's brand of magic isn't something he's directly familiar with, but it feels a little like how his own body restores itself, how bram's magic works when sam gets too fucked up to heal through it like normal. he hisses between his teeth, but doesn't fucking move any. there's--nothing to fix, aside from where the bones still stick out of his skin because that's where they're supposed to be.

but his body draws from nick's magic. pulls it to help cells regenerate fast, helps flesh grow over bone along his back, helps his body stop pulling from the fractured bits of what's left of his soul and drags it out of nick instead. it's slow enough that it's barely noticeable looking at where his wings had once been, draining enough it'll suck nick dry long before they get anywhere close to normal-looking, but it is enough that sam's furrowing his eyebrows tight and seems to pull himself out of his fugue for a bit. )

Think I liked you more when you wanted to break my bones, shit.

I told you it wouldn't be fun.

[ he doesn't exactly--trust himself with big magic right now, not after all that demonic stuff buzzed around inside of him for days, but this is worth pushing himself for. if he focuses enough he can feel the damage soul pulling at him, so nick focuses on feeding that instead. it's not like the wings are going to look any better if nick can't grow them back, anyway. ]

I grow shit for people all the time. Or for work, or when I'm...I don't know. Bored, or sad, or whatever but didn't think there were that many.

[ ragnor reaches for nick with his free hand. ]

You can pull from me. You'll be a filter, my magic becomes yours once you take it, it won't hurt Sam.

[ he can feel the effort, and he knows nick will run out. meanwhile here he is with largely untouched reserves. ]

( it feels like it's burning him from the inside out, but sam's smart enough to realize that's probably better than the fucking numbness that had settled in him before. he's never been fucked up like this before, but whatever nick is doing is taking some of the heaviness off of him. he feels less like a flesh lump that hasn't slept in a dozen years and more like the sam who thinks sleeps is a waste of time.

he's still careful not to move; keeps himself twisted in towards ragnor even if his eyes are opening and his head shifts just slightly to look down to nick. )

Next time you wanna touch me this deeply, can we do some foreplay first? Build up to it? Feels like your hand's inside my fucking chest.

[ it's a little easier once he has ragnor's hand, when it's not just nick's energy being sapped by the sheer effort it takes to work against this kind of damage -- clearly far worse than just a flesh wound. nick doesn't generally make a habit of fucking with souls, even to fix them or whatever the fuck it is he's doing here, and it all feels a little like walking on eggshells.

so it helps, when ragnor gives him the boost, and nick leans in a little to brush a light little kiss against sam's shoulder, as if that will help the burning in his soul at all. ]

I promise next time we get this close it'll feel much better.

May I watch?

[ he knows this is a strain for both nick and sam, he can feel the pull at his own magic and he knows he'll end up exhausted too.

so dry jokes are his best coping method. ]

( it's--still slowgoing. nick's magic, ragnor's reserves are definitely helping, but even giving their all, it's only enough to lend a hand in pulling sam back together. his wings grow slow, there's a very, very small feather that starts at the base of his upper right wing--downy and soft, but there where it wasn't before. sam's hissing between his teeth, moving a hand over to press his palm against nick's thigh. )

Didn't realize you were that kinky Ragnor, fuck. ( the fuck less for ragnor, more for how he feels like he's on fucking fire. ) Hell. Fix me up enough I can get hard and you can watch whatever the fuck you want. I'm into it.

Oh, I think you'd be surprised by him.

[ it's supposed to be said as tongue in cheek as the rest, but somewhere along the way nick's expression just gets stuck on a little stupidly fond. embarrassing, but he slides his hand further up sam's back and reaches to hold ragnor's a little tighter when he sees the small feather slowly unfurl. that's a good sign, a great sign, even. ]

[ ragnor will have time to be impressed by nick's skills later, he squeezes his hand back. ]

Would he? I would've thought my kinks match my personality.

[ he's glad nick can speed up sam's regeneration, but he's not sure they can heal him all the way before they're both out of magic. ]

Don't tire yourself out, Nick. That wouldn't be good for either of you.

( nick's success of the day tops out at one feather, but it's better than the no feathers he had before. there's more life behind sam's eyes now than there had been before, too. for now at least. )

Your face doesn't even match your personality anymore.

( only slightly a dig. )

I'm fine.

[ if by 'fine' he means 'probably not fine', anyway. nick was already on weird, shaky ground with his magic before he came here, trying to figure it all out again after the extreme demonic binge/purge of a few days earlier -- and this is no small task he's undertaking. but it's a chance to actually help, and he likes sam, so getting tired seems like a reasonable trade off to him. ]

You know, I didn't even recognise him when he sent me a photo at first.

[ once it's clear there's no more progress to be made, ragnor gradually cuts nick off his magic. ]

I don't recognize myself and it's been days now. Sam, will your friend be angry if I look into his kitchen? You both should try eating something.

No.

( tate doesn't really eat often anyway. most of the food in the house is stuff sam bought for them. he does--shift his hand up off of nick and wraps it around his shoulders instead in an attempt at a hug. )

Thanks.

Edited (fuck) 2022-04-11 23:35 (UTC)

[ it's a bad position for a hug but nick goes for it anyway, leans in to wind an arm around him in turn and drop a kiss on the side of his head. ]

When did he do this?

[ ragnor moves to get up, but only after he's sure he can do it without stumbling. it'd be tragic if he, the least useful person in attendance, ended up being fussed over.

he can get the children something to eat while they talk. his willingness to kill william is already at the max level, so getting the details would just make him angrier at himself. ]

( he doesn't even know what day it is. but sam's pinching together his expression and trying to remember what the fuck happened when, so. )

Saturday? The uh. 2nd.

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