Sep. 19th, 2020 at 3:24 PM
CHRISTIAN LAMBERT & HANNAH LAKATOS
Surprise visit, explanation & an ice bath. Fun times
19th September - Evening | Hannah's home | PG
Christian was sore in more places than he could count. Between the broken ribs, all the bruises, and the head injury he was feeling very sorry for himself, but he figured a couple injuries was the least of his concerns. His uncle had gotten himself into a world of trouble by running afoul of several vampires and it wasn’t like him to reach out without good reason. If given a choice he still would have dropped everything and run off to help his uncle, but he was painfully aware that he had sucked at the whole communicating with his friends thing.
That needed remedying and hopefully he’d walk away from it unscathed, more or less.
Wisely he had swung into the grocery store and picked up a six-pack of beer figuring that he should at least come bearing gifts. When asked about what had happened to him he played it off as a car accident which was honestly a lot easier to explain than what had happened and the less that people knew about the shit that went bump in the night the better.
Pulling up outside of Hannah’s place he paused to tug his hair back into a low ponytail before he grabbed a hold of the beer and stepped out. He worried his lower lip for a moment before he sucked air into his lungs, grimacing faintly because jesus fuck he’d almost forgotten how much broken ribs sucked, and used his gathered courage to make his approach.
He stopped outside her door and then lifted his curled hand to rap his knuckles against the wood.
Hearing the vehicle pull up, Hannah assumed it was Dan - but it didn’t sound like the hunk of junk her brother was currently driving. Which caused her to grab her nearest hockey stick and approach the door. Her sense of smell was still off due to those stupid shadow creatures and just… the overpowering smell of sulphur that had encompassed the town. And the remnants, even after they disappeared, still remained.
Could she have looked at the cameras? Sure. Checked the little peep hole? Easily.
Instead, the door flew open to reveal a very stern-looking Canadian, ready to bludgeon anyone with even the slightest of ill-intent. But rather than some kind of shadow-demon-thing come back for more, it was a familiar face. One she had missed greatly - standing on her doorstep much like she’d done to him when she came back.
Her expression, much to her best attempt to want to keep up the upset appearance, softened instantaneously. Of course it helped that his bruises were quite obvious and difficult to ignore. After the week they’d just had? She couldn’t help dropping the hockey stick in exchange for reaching out to pull him in for a hug.
“Where the fuck were you?” she whispered as she grasped for him.
Christian froze as Hannah opened the door with a hockey stick in her hands because he knew that even before she’d become a werewolf she was more than capable of giving a very heavy whack with that thing. He’d been about to say something, to explain, or make a weak joke about the hockey stick, but then it was being dropped, and he was being pulled into a hug.
His response was immediate, his arms came up to wrap around her, and he just sort of clung because the last few months had been… hard, really fucking hard, and it was just so good to see her that he wasn’t even ashamed about how tightly he was holding on to her.
He had definitely missed her.
“Saving my uncle’s ass,” he explained. “He went and pissed off a bunch of vampires, and then they went after him in force.”
The subtle difference in the embrace in comparison to their previous ones wasn't lost on Han - in fact it only stirred up more questions that undoubtedly needed answering. But for the moment she was content to enjoy the familiar comfort for as long as possible.
Family. In truth, it was all the explanation that Hannah needed. She wanted to know the gritty details, of course - ever critical of the hunter lifestyle, but Christian having up and left to help family was entirely forgivable.
Not that she had planned to stay mad at him for very long. Or that she actually could.
Hannah reluctantly let go enough so she could lean back and get a good look at his face. One hand reached up to delicately bring attention to an area where the bruising was the worst. “It looks more like they kicked your ass,” she pointed out, wondering just how extensive his injuries were. Hunters were nothing if not good at taking a beating and ultimately hiding it or continuing to fight when they probably shouldn’t.
That and she assumed the case of beer, while a thoughtful peace offering, was more so for him - to dull the pain. “Smart man,” Hannah told him fondly, giving a nod at the alcohol.
Christian snorted gently and arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, I mean, it was not my best fight ever, but we came out on top which I think is probably what counts.” Also, the world was less eight vampires, and he knew his uncle will have done his research to know that they were the type that needed to be stopped.
“It helps that I know you so well,” he replied with a chuckle as he stepped into her apartment and placed the case of beer on the nearby side. “I tried to get the one that had the highest alcohol content but I figure you have a distinct advantage on the whole intoxication front.”
He held out one of the cans to Hannah as he pulled another one free for himself.
There was a I missed you at the tip of her tongue that, for whatever reason, didn’t make its way out yet. Likely, the confession would be a catalyst for a whole slew of emotion that, arguably, she wasn’t drunk enough for yet. “You’re far too lucky,” she insisted, though glad he was in one piece.
As Christian walked in, Hannah bent down to retrieve the hockey stick and followed him in - locking the door behind him. “So is that a bartender dig or a werewolf dig?” she countered, stopping to look at him and standing as if she would take true offense to either.
Hannah paused before smirking faintly in amusement, taking the beer that was offered and motioned to the living room. “Or, Heaven help you, a hockey player thing?”
Despite their teasing banter, the werewolf watched how the hunter held himself and walked, curious to the medical needs he most likely was ignoring.
“All the above?” Christian answered with a teasing grin.
She was right to watch him because he was nursing a lot of injuries. The same sort of injuries that he couldn’t go to hospital for and instead had been subject to his uncle’s first aid skills and his own. Broken ribs, lingering concussion, cuts and bruises that may or may not scar, a distinct vampiric bite around his upper forearm which was wrapped by a small bandage and last but not at all least knife wound in his upper thigh. That meant he was moving gingerly and slowly as now he was in the company of somebody he knew and trusted he no longer had to maintain appearances.
He eased down onto the couch and covered a small hiss of breath by snapping open the can of beer.
Rather than saying ‘I missed you’ he settled on, “So, what have I missed?”
“Mhmm,” she hummed quietly, giving the hockey stick a slow swing as if ready to smack him with it. Hannah just flashed a smile and leaned the stick up in the corner.
She didn’t like the way that he took his steps, the bruises, or the bandages; or how he tried covering the hiss with the opening of the beer can. Her hearing allowed her to notice both, but as she settled onto the couch cushion beside him she didn’t push the matter.
Yet, at least.
“Well we were just stuck in four days of darkness with these shadow demon things running around attacking people,” Hannah told him casually as she tucked her feet up under her legs, sitting in a manner that faced Christian as they talked.
“That would explain the hockey stick,” he remarked sagely as the pieces finally fell into place. “But, fuck, that sounds intense. The rest of the family okay?”
He turned his head to look over at Hannah.
“Any ideas what caused it?”
Christian took a sip from his beer and leaned forward to rest it on the coffee table rather than on the couch because easier that might be for him it was also rude. He’d been raised better than that, mostly.
“They’re alright,” she reassured him, finally opening her own beer and taking a drink. “And no idea, Rosie looked through our father’s journals and the ones we have from our uncle and… nothing,” Hannah shrugged lightly.
“Maybe it’s just the charm of this little town,” she mused quietly, taking another drink and eyeing him as he leaned forward. Broken ribs? she wondered, making a mental note that once they were a few beers in she insisted he sit in the tub and let her pile the ice on him.
After a moment, Hannah balled her fist and gently punched his shoulder - which so far he hadn’t shown favor to. “You should have been here,” she scolded him quietly in French.
Christian gave a mock wince and reached up to rub at the part of her arm she’d just punched, gently. “”I’m sorry,” he answered easily, his Cajun drawl a lot heavier now than it was when he was speaking English. “I should have said something but I just didn’t think. I heard my uncle was in trouble and I freaked out.”.
He was after all the only family that Christian had left.
His fingers curled around the wrist attached to the balled up hand and squeezed. “It is good to be back though.”.
Clearly, she was pleased even with the feigned reaction from the Cajun next to her - as evident by the smirk that crossed her lips. Hannah's expression slowly changed however, when she realized that he'd been put into a situation similar to her own and— Well, there was no way she would hold that against him.
"It's okay," she reassured him, lowering her beer as the conversation got a bit more candid.
It was most likely the gentle grip he held her wrist in that made her finally say the words; her eyes shifting over the bruises on his face once more. "I just really missed you," Hannah admittedly quietly. And while she didn't say it, she knew that the past week would have gone a lot better had Christian been around. Which, she wasn't quite sure how to process that realization just yet.
Christian’s face which was normally sharp in a lot of ways and not just because he’d been blessed with that kind of bone structure softened in response to her confession.
“I missed you too,” he answered, easily and without any hesitation. That in itself should have told him something, but there was a bad pun about how de Nile wasn’t just a river in Egypt after all.
Whilst he had been focused on saving his uncle and killing his vampires he had found his mind trickling back to Seven Devils whenever there was a moment of downtime. To Hannah, especially. He’d hoped, and he’d prayed (sort of) that she was alive out there but to have it confirmed, to see her on his doorstep, in the flesh and breathing? Totally different matter entirely.
“I am sorry though, for not saying anything before I left.”.
Hannah, despite herself, let a warm smile slip with his reply - not yanking her wrist from his grasp but instead lowering their hands to rest in her lap. She knew he was talking about the manner in which he left but part of her wanted to ask if there was something that needed to be said - which with her luck would be assuming too much and it was already to show such a vulnerable side.
"I'm not mad that you left to help your family, Christian," she promised quietly. "Or that you got knocked around a bit," the werewolf added - though it still did bother her somewhat. He wasn't exactly new to hunting so for him to take enough visible injuries meant that it wasn't a quick one-and-done kind of fight.
“But I swear to God if you do it again you better run and hide because I’ll totally come after you myself and kick your ass,” Hannah told him with a feigned malice in her tone. She couldn’t help the teasing threat - the moment of vulnerability of admitting she missed him felt too much like the tip of a iceberg.
Christian glanced to where their hands rested in her lap and worked very hard to keep his fingers from flexing and inevitably reaching out. “My uncle underestimated their size and ferocity,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s not like him. Beginning to think he needs to take a break.”.
He tipped his head back into a warm chuckle at her threat and pressed his tongue against the sharp edge of his canine as he shot her a disarming smile, fingers now reaching out to squeeze her ankle.
“Consider me thoroughly warned.” He had thought about saying something along the lines of ‘I am both frightened... and aroused’ but refrained, figuring that was a little too… candid.
“You know my thoughts on hanging up the shotgun,” she pointed out, refusing to comment any further on the matter unless prompted otherwise. If she had her way, they would all leave hunting behind and live quiet, peaceful, normal lives.
The smile just, wasn’t fair in so many ways, but the ankle grab, were he not currently compromised, would have resulted in a flurry of tangled hands until they were at a stalemate. Instead of swatting at him she let the quick jolt of pressure by his fingers make her spine straighten a little stiffer for a moment.
“You’re going to let me take a look at all the bumps and bruises, right?” Hannah asked, switching easily between languages and expecting nothing more than agreement because honestly, she wasn’t above annoying him until she got her way. “Starting with that one,” the werewolf said, calling specific attention to the bandage on his forearm. “Doesn’t smell all that great, needs to be cleaned again.”
Although, she realized quickly how weird that might’ve sounded. Because of the whole werewolf thing. So instead she used humor to diffuse any awkwardness. “You trying to get matching scars or something with me, Christian?” she teased with an outright grin, setting her beer down on the table and situating herself so she sat cross-legged - motioning for him to surrender his arm.
Christian did know Hannah well enough to know that it was not something she was going to let go until she’d seen his injuries for himself. He could tell that from both the tone of her voice and the look on her face. “Is this your subtle way of telling me that you don’t like my cologne?” He asked, arching an eyebrow and shooting her a similar teasing grin.
Still, he cleared his throat, shifted a little and moved that much closer before extending his forearm out to her.
“I think you’re still winning on that front,” he said with a chuckle as he loosed the bandage and peeled away the gauze that was covering the bite. “This is definitely not as impressive.”
His thigh was starting to throb as if reminding him that if Hannah wanted to see all of his injuries then there would be stripping involved.
The question about cologne made her stop and try to give him a Look; but his grin made her expression falter. Hannah shook her head gently with amusement - keeping to herself that she otherwise genuinely enjoyed the cologne he used.
“Mm.. could give me a run for my money though,” Hannah told him, carefully cradling his arm and rotating it slightly to get a good look at the bite. She cringed a little at the look of the wounds. Fangs were.. terrible. It wasn’t enough for stitches but it definitely required a good cleaning and butterfly bandages.
She glanced up at his face for a moment before one hand rested gingerly against the left side of his chest. “Broken ribs?” the werewolf asked, obviously wanting to just, run through the injuries and do what she could to help.
“Mm,” Christian managed with a small nod of his head. She was being really gentle (which he appreciated) but broken ribs were a bitch especially as there wasn’t much that could be done for them save for rest and painkillers. “I counted four at the time.”
He snorted quietly. “And as if fangs and claws weren’t bad enough one of those fuckers had a knife.”
His uncle’s research had really been lacking which concerned Christian on so many levels.
Hannah tried not to look as concerned as she felt, pausing to glance up at his face. “You’re lucky you didn’t puncture a lung,” she chided softly. “Not sure I could Google chest tube insertion.” Though, at that point she hoped he would have gone to a hospital.
“A knife?” Hannah repeated, leaning back somewhat to look over him again for an obvious stab wound. “Where did- Do you need stitches?” she asked before moving to get up and get the first aid kit.
Christian caught the edge of his lower lip and he pushed his fingers into his hair which basically undid all the work that the tie was doing in keeping it under control.
“Uh, upper thigh, right leg.”
He shook his head. “I stitched myself up after it happened.”
Grabbing the first aid from the kitchen, Hannah stopped in her tracks on the way back, when he said the wound was on his thigh. If the stab had nicked the artery, she thought, realizing once again how horribly wrong hunting could go even if you were seasoned like Dan and Christian.
While she was still standing behind him, Hannah took a moment to sigh softly and deal with the overwhelming worry that had resurfaced.
Moving around to sit next to him again, she made quick work of opening the first aid kit if only to try and occupy her mind - but her fingers were clumsy and grabbing for the wrong things. It wasn’t like she hadn’t fixed up injuries before - if anything, the few memories she had of her family when they were all together was learning how to triage and stitch, basically. Her mind kept returning to the troubling thought of what if it had been worse?
Christian didn’t need to be a mind reader to pick up on the fact that what he’d just shared had freaked Hannah out. It was also very evident in how she was struggling to find the right items in the first aid kit, and he reached across with both hands to catch her wrists in his fingers.
“Hey, hey,” he coaxed gently as he ducked his head to seek her eye line. “I’m okay, Hannah. Banged up, but okay.” He smoothed his thumbs across her wrists and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “And trust me if my uncle ever calls out of nowhere asking for help I am sure as fuck not going to take his word that he’s done his research.”
He waited a beat. “And I will call you.”
Hannah lifted her gaze when he took hold of her again. Part of her hated seeming like an emotional worry wart. She had spent the majority of her twenties that way and, well, it didn’t exactly get the family far and Sam still ended up dead.
Before she could even really stop herself, Hannah maneuvered her hands so she could actually hold his - resisting the urge to squeeze lightly as she spoke. “Call me next time,” she nodded, “so I can come with you.” She transitioned again, as was normal for them to bounce back and forth between the two languages.
“Not to hunt but.. for backup or something.”
“Of course,” he replied just as easily though his expression was solemn so it was clear he meant what he said. “I think it would have been a lot easier had you been there with m- us.”
He definitely hadn’t covered the near use of ‘me’ very well but hey he was riding high on pain so he was going to try not to think about it too obsessively.
“Do you need to see it or do you trust my first aid skills?”
It was enough for her to feel better about the matter regarding the future. Not that Hannah felt as though she needed to have some sort of control over his hunting - God, she would never attempt anything of the sort. She simply.. had a very big issue with him getting seriously hurt or, worse, ending up like Sam and the other members of her family who were taken by the profession.
“I trust you,” she insisted, giving his hands a little squeeze in emphasis. Hannah didn’t necessarily let go, though. Not right away at least.
“I think an ice bath would do you some good, though,” the werewolf suggested. The one thing she didn’t have was a small stockpile of painkillers. He’d be stuck with NSAIDs, alcohol, and ice - in that case. “You can stay, if you’d like?”
She wasn’t wrong. As cold as an ice bath was and unpleasant it really was the best thing for post-hunt injuries, something most hunters had learned over the years spent tackling creatures that most humans should never ever go up against.
“I’d like that,” he said with a nod of his head. “And take you up on that ice bath provided you don’t mind standing by with a towel for when I eventually chicken out and bail.”
It would happen, eventually. Christian was not too proud to admit that.
Hannah laughed quietly at the conditions of the ice bath for his injuries. “Of course,” she agreed. “The Men of Letters are good for nothing if not absurdly large, plush towels,” she noted jokingly. Though, joking aside they had the place fully stocked with all amenities before they placed her at the safe house.
“Dan left some clothes here,” Hannah added. Because really, where didn’t Daniel leave his clothes - the random shoes and sweatshirts you saw on the highway were probably from her older brother at some point.
“And I might have a sweatshirt of yours from a looong time ago,” she admitted with a faint smirk. Hoarded for years, of course. “Finders keepers, after all.”
“Hannah,” Christian said with a mock gasp, pretending to be utterly aghast at the thought that she had been hoarding one of his sweatshirt from years ago. “Now I’m curious as to which one you’ve been hoarding.”
How tall was Dan now? Christian had no idea, but honestly, warm clean and comfortable clothes? He was not going to complain even if they were a little short at the ankle depending on height differences.
“So, you wanna get this over and done with?”
She grinned and let go of one of his hands to shove some things back into the first aid kit. “You’re not getting it back,” Hannah informed him as she closed the kit - she could clean his arm while he was in the tub as a means to keep him distracted from the cold.
Hannah stood while keeping hold of his one hand, offering to help pull him up. “Oh don’t sound so enthused,” she teased. “Come on, I’ll wrap you up like a Cajun burrito afterward.” One day she’d be able to survive without making a food reference every half hour. One day.
Today was clearly not that day, but it was kind of adorable. Not that he voiced that as he feared he might be set upon by that hockey stick if he did. He let himself be pulled to his feet by his impressively strong friend as werewolves were just stronger it was a matter of fact and who didn’t love a strong kickass woman?
“Promises, promises,” he replied with a wink.
Right, bathroom.
It showed just how much time he and Hannah had spent together in their respective homes that he didn’t need to be told where to go. Once there he started by leaning down, carefully and gingerly, to remove his boots and socks before he tugged his shirt off.
Clad now in his jeans and jeans alone he took a moment to just catch his breath, reaching upwards to loosen and retie his hair out of the way.
For her own sake, and his privacy, she set the first aid kit on the counter and let him undress in the bathroom as she went to get a bag of ice from the chest freezer. Hannah knew if she stayed to witness him wince and strain she would just feel utterly helpless and get upset by the matter again.
She dropped the bag, deliberately, on the ground once and then twice to break up the chunks of ice. “I don’t hear the water,” she drawled out jokingly, loud enough for him to hear. She could sympathize with his apprehension. Hannah had never been a fan of ice baths, and hadn’t had to take one since college.
Carrying the bag of ice back to the bathroom, the werewolf almost tripped over herself when she saw the heavy bruising over his ribs - which arguably was more distracting than Christian’s overall physique at the moment. “I uh.. have your.. Ice.”
Christian had upon her drawl leaned across to switch the taps on, grimacing faintly as he knew just how cold this was going to be. It would be worth it in the end but it definitely wasn’t the most fun. He turned his head when she entered, offering a slightly guilty smile as he knew that he looked about as pretty as he felt.
“The ice’ll work miracles.”
He took the bag of ice and emptied it into the now filled bath tub. His entire body shivering already in response which to be quite honest was not at all promising.
Still, he just needed to suck it up.
“It better,” she replied, waiting patiently while the tub filled up and getting everything ready from the first aid kit once more so she could dress his arm wound properly.
Hannah remembered the last time Dan had spent the night in a spare room and snapped her fingers before opening the cabinet under the sink. “Perfect,” she said quietly before pulling out a bottle of whiskey. “Here’s some liquid courage,” Hannah told him, holding the bottle out in Christian’s direction. That and it’d provide at least a little heat.
“Now get your—”
The werewolf stopped herself before any colorful, or too descriptive, words came out of her mouth, and tried to hide a flushed smirk. “Get your ass in the ice.”
“Yes ma’am,” Christian remarked with a grin and wink.
Of course before he could do that he needed to take his jeans off, which he did, but was careful with his right leg as that one was the one nursing a stab wound after all. He paused only briefly to unwind the bandage that wrapped it and after a quick look he was pleased that he hadn’t done too bad of a job on himself in terms of cleaning and stitching it up.
With jeans tossed aside and now clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs Christian took the bottle of whiskey. “Bottoms up,” he muttered as he uncapped it, took a swig and with the burn still happening down the back of his throat he began by stepping in before clasping the bath tub in either hand as he lowered himself.
”Shit, fuck, that is cold.”
Hannah gave him a faint roll of her eyes in response to the wink. At first she turned her back somewhat to give him a hint of privacy, but at the opportunity to catch a glance at the stab wound - she couldn’t resist. The werewolf frowned momentarily, though his stitch work was decent enough for her to let it be.
“Language,” she chided, doing her best to keep her expression stern but ultimately failing as she settled next to the tub, facing him and snickering.
She used his grip on the sides of the tub to her advantage, starting to clean his arm while the cold was enough distraction. Once she was sure he wouldn’t die in the next week of infection, she could rest easy and enjoy the company of the hunter uninterrupted.
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
