InsaneJournal

who: Klaus Hargreeves and Clint Barton
what: Christmas Elf attacks
where: A few blocks from the Station
when: Saturday evening


The only thing that Klaus hated about working the Saturday matinee shift was that he spent a good chunk of the day away from his family. Despite the fact that he’d hated spending time with them in his youth (honestly, it wasn’t them as much as him) he really enjoyed the freedom that they had here, and the legitimate happiness that Ben and Allison seemed to carry with them. It was a nice change of pace from the thoughts that constantly raced within his own mind.

It was nice out, and Klaus wasn’t in the mood to pay for an Uber, so he decided to walk the couple of blocks down to the building. Taking a short cut, he’d started down a narrow alley that weaved through a handful of other apartment buildings, and onto a smaller, less busy road. He had heard some giggling behind him and he spun around.

He almost missed it. The pint sized elf that seemed to be cackling at him. Fuck…. He knew he had had some drinks during his shift… but there was no way he was drunk enough to be seeing this shit. There was something about the cutesy little toy that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

“Alriiiiiight.” Klaus said, mostly to himself, and turned to walk away when the little elf grabbed at his leg.

“What the absolute fuck.” He shouted at the living doll, “the fuck kinda chucky bullshit is this.” He swatted at the toy, and the elf reacted by biting him in the hand. “MOTHER FUCKING DICK.” He swore, punching at the elf's face.

The thing fell of his leg, and he kicked at it. “Get lost.” He sneered, but the elf didn’t give up. It lunged at him, and Klaus felt a sharp pain in his gut. Before he could even process what was happening, there was another quick jab between his ribs.

Klaus grabbed the elf, yanking it from him. They both were splattered with blood. Fuck. Was that his blood? Did the Elves bleed? “Fuck.” Klaus swore again. He kicked the elf, Hard, sending him flying back several feet as a warm sensation came over his torso. His hand came to hold his side, trying to cover both stab wounds as best he could as the elf scrambled to recover from being punted a few feet away and ran off down the alley again.

“Mother fucking dick.” Klaus said, as he leaned against the wall, trying to take a calming breath as his other hand fumbled through his jacket pockets looking for his phone, the bite on his hand already starting to swell.

Even though he was just about a month out from his own injury, Clint was already moving at double time when he heard the sounds of a scuffle from a nearby alleyway. Lucky was straining at his leash and barking and growling in a way Clint was pretty sure he'd never heard before. Not even a second later, he saw something small skitter out of the shadowed alley and cross the road at what looked like a bipedal run. The shackles on the back of his neck stood on end, but before he could make up his mind to chase after the thing, Lucky whined and continued to head toward the alley.

That's when he heard it: a low, but vehement curse in a voice he recognized.

His healing ribs be damned.

Clint broke into a sprint that brought him around the corner. The coppery smell hit him even before he saw Klaus leaned heavily against the wall of one of the apartment buildings, and he almost tripped over himself. "Aw, shit, babe." His eyes were wide as he closed the rest of the distance and pressed his hand to Klaus's stomach. "What the hell happened?"

Klaus hissed in pain as Clint pressed his hand to his stomach, but allowed himself to lean his head against his boyfriend's shoulder for a moment, just in comfort that he was there.

“Fucking rabid elf on the shelf.” Klaus said and he pinched his eyes closed for a moment, so that he could focus on the words he was trying to say and not the fucking pain. “Uh.” He took a deep breath.

“I was coming home from work, and this stupid… and I swear, I’m going to sound crazy, but I fucking swear there was an honest to god Christmas elf here… and he jumped on me, and I pushed him off, and he fucking bit me.” He flashed Clint his hand, with the bite mark in it.

“I punched him… and the fucker… the fucker stabbed me.” He gestured to the front of his shirt, and the blood. “And I swear to fucking god… I think he used to candy cane.”

“I know. I know. I know how it sounds but I promise I’m not that high right now.”

The fact that Klaus could breathe as deeply as he did was a good sign, it meant whatever he'd been stabbed with hadn't gone deep enough to puncture a lung. Or maybe it had, and his body hadn't gotten to that bit yet. Clint kept an eye on his chest as he was treated to the profanity laden storytime, but he merely gave the other a grim smile. "Sweetheart, I've seen some shit, and I definitely saw something cross the street before I found you. If you say it was some kind of nightmare version of one of Santa's little helpers, I'm inclined to believe you."

Fortunately for them both, his go bag had a First Aid kit—it was one of the many he'd bought after the Turkey Incident. "Besides," he said, gently peeling both their hands away from Klaus's stomach, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say these were stiletto wounds, which is further inducement to believe your candy cane theory. I don't think you're high, babe, but I think the blood loss is gonna get you there sooner rather than later." While he talked, he was getting out bandages and antiseptics, turning the alley into a makeshift triage area. "D'you want an ambulance or see if I can find someone sympathetic enough to give us a lift? We have to go to a hospital to get you checked out."

Lucky was quiet, but leaned against the other side of Klaus's leg and kept an eye on the end of the alley.

Klaus found himself nodding at Clint’s words, glad that Clint at least seemed to have seen the elf. “I think… I think I might need to sit down for a moment.” Klaus said honestly. He didn’t really wait for Clint's response, and instead, used his position on the wall to move his body to sit. He hissed through gritted teeth as his body reacted as if it were on fire to the slow movement of his body.

“I should be more concerned that You can identify stab wounds like that.” He teased softly, his bit up hand coming to pet at Lucky, trying to wipe his bloodied hand on his jeans as if to clean it. “I don’t think I have too much of a choice, babe. Don’t know how long we should really wait to try and wrangle up a driver.” Klaus wasn’t thrilled about going to the hospital, or seeing a doctor of any kind really, but he knew that this was a bit more serious than a typical injury.

Unfortunately, Clint wasn't fast enough to try to stop him from moving, even though he was one of the fastest shots in the world. But it was one thing to draw a bowstring and quite another to wrangle healing supplies and a guy woozy with blood loss and pain who was determined to do something. He knelt next to Klaus with a quiet breath that could have been a sigh if he'd let it past his teeth, and then it was a matter of figuring out what to try to bandage first. "Okay, so the good news is that we're not gonna be paying out the ass forever for our little trips to the ER. The bad news is I'm gonna have to do everything in my power to keep you awake before they come. And that means you're gonna get to see my obnoxious side."

His dog was more than happy to receive pets, but gave Clint a baleful look when he snatched the nice man's hand away. They may have had a cleaner mouth than a human's, but Clint didn't want to be yelled at by a medical professional for letting Lucky affectionately lick at the hand that already looked infected. He poured a small package of antiseptic over Klaus's hand and dumped a bunch of antibiotic goop onto it before wrapping it up tightly. "I'd say the identification thing was skilled, but it's more experience. I can't even tell you the amount of field dressing I've done over the years—not only to myself. And now you get to reap the benefits, such as they are. Hey, I'm gonna lift your shirt now, okay, get these taken care of before I call an ambulance? Talk to me about Allison and Ben."

“You’re not obnoxious, you’re handsome.” Klaus had a silly sort of smirk on his face. He groaned again, as the sting of the antiseptic filtered into his wounds. “Never really paid for medical anyway,” Klaus shrugged. “Dad always took care of things in house. Made it easier for people not to ask questions.” Of course, there were times in his adult life where he had to be dealt with, but "...Pogo always made sure those got paid too. He was sucha good monkey.”

“They’re my favorites.” Klaus said, and slowly, almost lazily, he slid the shirt up his torso so that Clint could better see the bloody injuries. His eyes closed as he spoke. “Allison and I had always… had a pretty good relationship. We shared clothes a lot, cause dad would never buy me any skirts, and I was a pretty thin teenager. She had better hips though. Ask Luther.” Klaus laughed at his own joke, “And Ben was always my partner. Dad wasn’t fond of either of us… hell, I don’t think he was a fan of any of us. 'Cept Five. And Luther.”

“What's your family like?”

If it wasn't for most of Clint's concentration centered on staunching the bleeding, he might have spared more than just smirk of his own at the compliment and a raised brow at the mention of… Pogo the monkey? He'd already decided he hated Reginald Hargreeves with the few comments he'd picked up here and there from the net and the handful of things Klaus had told him. "Well, we won't worry about expenses for the moment, all right? I'm far more interested in, well, keeping you around with us." He leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against the top of Klaus's cheek. "You just gotta stay awake."

His boyfriend's stomach and side were a mess, but the wounds themselves were small. Still oozing with blood, though. Clint tore open a couple of compression bandages with his teeth while trying to wipe up some of the blood so the tape would stick. "Your dad sounds like a real dick," he said low and with real feeling, almost a growl. Clint's attention gaze shifted to Klaus's face, and he was tempted to ask him to keep his eyes open, but so long as he was talking and engaging, it was fine. Just fine. He smiled faintly at the familiar family story. "My dad was a real dick too."

The first bandage was taped down with no issue, but he could still had to contend with the one on the side, so Clint took Klaus's arm and draped it over his shoulder. "Jesus, baby," he swore under his breath. "You don't do a thing by half. But, yeah. Dick dad, decent mom, both died in a car wreck when I was a kid. Only family left is my older brother Barney, and he's kind of a dick, too. On again, off again villain. General pain in my ass, but we're all the other has left, really. Kinda like you and your sibs, except you all seem to actually get along. Well, you and Ben and Allison. Hey, you should call or text them while I call an ambulance."

"Yeah," Klaus said, almost lazily. "No one even likes him. Our loving android mother even hated him." Klaus couldn't help but giggle. His eyes fluttered softly when Clint kissed his cheek.

"Flirt." He muttered, "My head hurts…" There was a soft whine in his voice, and with his free hand, he fumbled for his phone.

"Is your brother the dinosaur? Mine are… fuck. We are getting better, but ... I was tortured for days and no one noticed that I was even missing. Cause they were looking for Fivey." He swiped his fingers over his keyboard. It was incoherent, and emoji laden, and he was only half certain that he sent it to the right people.

From this angle, Clint could just make out a string of ambulance emojis. That, along with the dinosaur question made him chuckle. He'd have to remember to start singing that obnoxious song to him next time he saw the bastard. They'd come to blows over it, he was sure, but it would totally be worth it. Assuming there was a next time. Clint was still crouched on the balls of his feet, and kept one hand pressed against the bandage of Klaus's stomach as he got out his phone and balanced it on his thigh. The only pause he gave before swiping in the emergency number without even looking and putting it on speaker. He barely let the operator go into their standard spiel before he rattled off the address and gave them a cursory and matter-of-fact description of Klaus's injuries and current condition. It would have been almost cold and business-like if it weren't for the slight shaking of the hand Clint moved through his boyfriend's hair.

Once they'd been assured that police and an ambulance had been dispatched, Clint set the phone on the ground and still connected. He was taking no chances that they'd be missed. The phone in Klaus's hand seemed to be going crazy with notifications. Softly, to Klaus, he asked, "Do you want me to call them, or wait for the ambulance and call them when we know which hospital we're headed to?"

Klaus' head leaned into Clint's touch, the rest of his body unable and unwilling to move. He could feel the vibrations of his phone, responding to the messages as he could, partly confused as to how so many people knew about his injure already.

"Probably should wait .. till we know where we are going. Maybe we can get ice cream later. Not peppermint though… don't wanna get stabbed again." Klaus said rambly, as the ambulance rolled up to their spot.