[ So Raleigh, his brother and one of the newly initiated, full-fledged members of the MC, does something really fucking stupid one day: he shoots himself in the foot. Literally.
It pretty much happened too quickly for anyone to react, one moment he was tossing a gun up in the air, and the next, bam, a bullet through the sneakers and now it's a big ugly hole with splotches of red, and it's off to the ER they go. The rest of the MC had pretty much howled in laughter and/or cursed and Yancy's going to kill Raleigh once they're done sorting this out, because how Raleigh can manage to fuck this up is still far beyond him.
Four hours later, Raleigh's patched up -- although Yancy is now pretty sure that thanks to Raleigh, no one in this hospital is probably going to take them seriously again, because which idiot shoots himself in the foot?
He gets to his feet when the orderlies bring him back in, limping and bandaged, and despite himself, Yancy finds himself amused, because Raleigh is probably about seventy shades of embarrassed right about now. (And he should be, because Yancy's never going to let him live this down.) ]
if he hadn't been when their crew had pretty much laughed them out the clubhouse doors, it'd hit deep when the doctor treating his foot (he hadn't lost a toe, thank god) had made a couple of off handed remarks about kid proofing guns. then a nurse had offered him ice cream, and raleigh couldn't even muster a charming, languid smirk. he'd gritted his teeth and resisted telling her just where to stick that ice cream of hers, but it'd been a near miss.
he'd learned his lesson (no he hadn't) though, no more showing off with guns. it'd been his attempt to be a casual bad ass, tossing the gun in the air — and it'd been going so well until, like the moron he was, he'd fumbled the thing and only just managed to catch it and then, fuck.
it's the first time he's been shot. insult and injury are intermingling like old friends, and raleigh is completely distressed by the fact he can't walk properly right now. he has an arm around the orderlies shoulder, but the man in light purple scrubs is ducking away from him, and now raleigh has no choice but to heavily lean on his brother and fight the red creeping up his neck. ]
Let's just get the fuck outta here.
[ the only plus about this whole thing is the neat little prescription for pain killers clutched in his hand. ]
[ Humiliated is about right -- that'd teach him to be a careless little shit in the future; Yancy had been right worried for a moment, but when it didn't look like anything entirely serious, he figures he'd just settle for a semi-permanent ribbing whenever situations arise.
He's anchoring Raleigh without a problem, catching the mutinous look on his brother's face and trying not to laugh. It's all right, he's got you, buddy. It's cool. ]
Let's get you your pain pills first. [ He imagines the pain must be pretty excruciating, for him -- it's a right bitch, to be shot in the leg, especially by your own gun, but that is mockery for another night. Right now, Raleigh's his little brother and he's in pain, and so he does what any brother would do, walk him to the pharmacy and deposit him a reasonable distance away from any curious patients who would be staring at his bandaged foot. ]
Sit. I'll only take a minute.
] They're getting looks because of their cuts, no self-respecting member removes their cut, even in a situation like this, and Yancy simply pays no attention to the onlookers when he takes the slip of paper and heads straight to the pharmacists, queues be damned. ]
[ he's mumbling mutinously and cursing like a sailor (or a biker, they might be even worse) with every step. the slightest amount of weight, even on the heel of his foot, hurts like a bitch and raleigh isn't shy about letting yancy know so under his breath. but he's cooperative, and doesn't bitch about being deposited in the chair — even if he looks at his brother's retreating back with an expression akin to someone who just swallowed a lemon.
jittery and aggrieved, and more out of habit than anything else, he digs in the pocket of his surgically destroyed jean and pulls out a cigarette. he gets it as far as his mouth before some lady off to the side clears her throat disapprovingly in his general direction. her two snot nosed brats are ogling him like he walks on water, and chatter excitedly when he stands up. it's like they're expecting backflips or something, and their mom startles, but he's no intention of playing the intimidation game.
no, yancy is just taking way too long. so he hobbles over, leaning heavily on the backs of chairs with an unlit marlboro hanging from his lips. ] Come on, man, [ he implores when he finally meets up with him at the window (shaky, pale and a little nauseated — but far from admitting that.) ]
[ It's not his fault you have the patience of a pigeon, Raleigh. Yancy frowns when his brother hobbles up beside him, the very picture of one who is very much put-upon (Raleigh doesn't have to admit a thing for Yancy to know exactly what he's feeling -- that's usually a formality, or, you know, when Yancy's in the mood to give Raleigh a wedgie or somesuch). ]
I told you to sit down. [ He's in the middle of getting him his shit here, bro. ] And what are you doing with a cigarette in your mouth?
[ Without waiting for an answer, he plucks it from between Raleigh's lips and tucks it neatly between his own: it's his now. Yancy pretty much doesn't care if a bunch of kids think Raleigh's going to do cartwheels in the waiting room, or some prissy mother thinks he's going to eat their kids, there's a hole in Raleigh's foot that would need time to heal, and tatters of his rep to retrieve, and he needs to not put any sort of weight on it and keep walking to a minimum.
The pretty young female pharmacist looks between both brothers, and Yancy winks at her, attention diverted from his brother for the greater good, a lazy smile curling at the side of his mouth. ] So, what do you say, babe? Cut me and my brother here some slack, and fetch his medication first? No one needs to know.
[ The patented Becket charm works, and when the pharmacist ducks into the store, Yancy's demeanor eases into a light frown. Aggrieved or not -- Raleigh is a right pain in the ass when he puts his mind to it. ] Go sit, okay? Hovering around here isn't going to make her come back any quicker.
[ the pharmacist is cute, and if raleigh had the capacity for anything other than bitching right now, he might have thrown her a charming smile and a wink of his own — double the becket charm, double the jump in her heart and the pip in her step, and double the speed with which he'd get his fucking pain meds. they'd given him a local anesthetic while patching up his foot, and it was wearing off fast. ]
'M not gonna sit, [ raleigh grumps. he considers throwing a fit about the cigarette, but whatever, yancy can have that one. he's got half a pack more, and turns to lean on the divider between pickup windows (oooh, so important, patient confidentiality) before smacking the pack on his wrist and pulling out another. ]
'M not a fucking cripple, Yance. 'N if you want her to run, you oughtta flash her your piece instead of your smile.
[ ah yes, a gigantic pain in the ass because of the burning pain in his foot — sure, yancy, whip out your dick pistol and shoot everyone in the foot, they'll hop to it. ]
[ If Raleigh throws a fit, Yancy's going to leave him here. Don't think he won't! True to form, though, Yancy gives his little brother a deliberate, withering once-over. Raleigh's never been one for the patient sort, and things get worse when he's in pain. Make no mistake, Yancy loves the kid a lot, but sometimes he just wants to push him over, or something. ]
I'm not flashing my piece in a hospital. [ He tells him simply, because even badass MC biker boys with stupid little brothers have their standards. And also because Yancy plans to see more of her. (Probably.) He smirks, because now that they've established that while it's a painful wound, it's nothing life-threatening, Yancy fully intends to not Raleigh live it down. Ever. And thus, he points out sensibly: ] And you've got a hole in your foot, Rals; that makes you a cripple.
[ 'm not a cripple, he seethes internally, and turns the sourest sour scowl that ever soured at his big brother before precariously pushing himself off the divider between pharmacy pickup windows. ]
Fuck you, [ is the aggravated (term of endearment) dismissal that comes out of his mouth in the end. ] I'm going to wait outside.
[ and he hobbles like the delicate old man that he is, wincing every so often and convinced he's going to start bleeding a lot again, but far too stubborn to stop moving. he makes it outside before nearly toppling into the decorative flower bed ringed with a wide cement bench, and whenever yancy rejoins him, raleigh is happily chain smoking next to the no smoking sign, and glowering at anyone who dare approach him. watch out, he's wounded and didn't die; he's obviously dangerous. ]
[ Here are your drugs, old man. Yancy even took the liberty of getting him a bottle of water to wash the pills down with, when he comes out to find him ten minutes later, plucking his unlit cigarette from behind his ear. ]
Don't swallow them all down at once. [ He's grinning when he sees Raleigh standing right next to the sign, before he lights his own and hands the plastic bag and water to him. Brotherly duties fulfilled for the time being, he takes a long drag and leans against the wall beside his grumpy sibling. ]
Come on, I'll take you out for a drink later, how about that?
[ raleigh's too pissy for thank you's, and snatches the bag when it's proffered to him. water, too. and really, he has the best big brother because anyone else in the mc wouldn't be putting up with his whiny bullshit right now, but yancy does — all he has to deal with with him is the endless teasing that he knows will follow, and that still has his hackles preemptively raising.
he's rooting in the bag almost immediately, intent on following a decent handful if not all of them. but his brother offers to get them a drink, and he's gotta roll his eyes and shake the orange bottle of hydrocodone in his face. ]
How many pain killers you know that go well with whiskey, huh?
I can drink, and you can watch. [ Yancy offers generously, because he's right -- and Raleigh can have himself a coke; he's just not getting any sort of alcohol. He deserves it, you know, that stiff drink for putting up with Raleigh's shit. He's pretty much got the patience of a saint, and that ought to count for something, right?
Unfazed by Raleigh's crabbiness, he regards him with amusement. ] How about that, huh?
That sounds super fun, [ raleigh drawls, making absolutely no attempt to hide his underwhelming enthusiasm.
he's puffing on the filter now, and his calming habit has given way from soothing nicotine to the most disgusting flavor imaginable. so he pulls it from his lips, flicks it of to roll into the crack of the sidewalk somewhere. he makes to stand up again, and this time pointedly doesn't sling his arm around yancy's shoulders. he's going to be stubborn and keep trying to walk by himself. ]
Where'd you park?
[ he'll grumpily limp and pop some pills on the way to the truck. ]
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It pretty much happened too quickly for anyone to react, one moment he was tossing a gun up in the air, and the next, bam, a bullet through the sneakers and now it's a big ugly hole with splotches of red, and it's off to the ER they go. The rest of the MC had pretty much howled in laughter and/or cursed and Yancy's going to kill Raleigh once they're done sorting this out, because how Raleigh can manage to fuck this up is still far beyond him.
Four hours later, Raleigh's patched up -- although Yancy is now pretty sure that thanks to Raleigh, no one in this hospital is probably going to take them seriously again, because which idiot shoots himself in the foot?
He gets to his feet when the orderlies bring him back in, limping and bandaged, and despite himself, Yancy finds himself amused, because Raleigh is probably about seventy shades of embarrassed right about now. (And he should be, because Yancy's never going to let him live this down.) ]
You alright, kid?
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if he hadn't been when their crew had pretty much laughed them out the clubhouse doors, it'd hit deep when the doctor treating his foot (he hadn't lost a toe, thank god) had made a couple of off handed remarks about kid proofing guns. then a nurse had offered him ice cream, and raleigh couldn't even muster a charming, languid smirk. he'd gritted his teeth and resisted telling her just where to stick that ice cream of hers, but it'd been a near miss.
he'd learned his lesson (no he hadn't) though, no more showing off with guns. it'd been his attempt to be a casual bad ass, tossing the gun in the air — and it'd been going so well until, like the moron he was, he'd fumbled the thing and only just managed to catch it and then, fuck.
it's the first time he's been shot. insult and injury are intermingling like old friends, and raleigh is completely distressed by the fact he can't walk properly right now. he has an arm around the orderlies shoulder, but the man in light purple scrubs is ducking away from him, and now raleigh has no choice but to heavily lean on his brother and fight the red creeping up his neck. ]
Let's just get the fuck outta here.
[ the only plus about this whole thing is the neat little prescription for pain killers clutched in his hand. ]
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He's anchoring Raleigh without a problem, catching the mutinous look on his brother's face and trying not to laugh. It's all right, he's got you, buddy. It's cool. ]
Let's get you your pain pills first. [ He imagines the pain must be pretty excruciating, for him -- it's a right bitch, to be shot in the leg, especially by your own gun, but that is mockery for another night. Right now, Raleigh's his little brother and he's in pain, and so he does what any brother would do, walk him to the pharmacy and deposit him a reasonable distance away from any curious patients who would be staring at his bandaged foot. ]
Sit. I'll only take a minute.
] They're getting looks because of their cuts, no self-respecting member removes their cut, even in a situation like this, and Yancy simply pays no attention to the onlookers when he takes the slip of paper and heads straight to the pharmacists, queues be damned. ]
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jittery and aggrieved, and more out of habit than anything else, he digs in the pocket of his surgically destroyed jean and pulls out a cigarette. he gets it as far as his mouth before some lady off to the side clears her throat disapprovingly in his general direction. her two snot nosed brats are ogling him like he walks on water, and chatter excitedly when he stands up. it's like they're expecting backflips or something, and their mom startles, but he's no intention of playing the intimidation game.
no, yancy is just taking way too long. so he hobbles over, leaning heavily on the backs of chairs with an unlit marlboro hanging from his lips. ] Come on, man, [ he implores when he finally meets up with him at the window (shaky, pale and a little nauseated — but far from admitting that.) ]
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I told you to sit down. [ He's in the middle of getting him his shit here, bro. ] And what are you doing with a cigarette in your mouth?
[ Without waiting for an answer, he plucks it from between Raleigh's lips and tucks it neatly between his own: it's his now. Yancy pretty much doesn't care if a bunch of kids think Raleigh's going to do cartwheels in the waiting room, or some prissy mother thinks he's going to eat their kids, there's a hole in Raleigh's foot that would need time to heal, and tatters of his rep to retrieve, and he needs to not put any sort of weight on it and keep walking to a minimum.
The pretty young female pharmacist looks between both brothers, and Yancy winks at her, attention diverted from his brother for the greater good, a lazy smile curling at the side of his mouth. ] So, what do you say, babe? Cut me and my brother here some slack, and fetch his medication first? No one needs to know.
[ The patented Becket charm works, and when the pharmacist ducks into the store, Yancy's demeanor eases into a light frown. Aggrieved or not -- Raleigh is a right pain in the ass when he puts his mind to it. ] Go sit, okay? Hovering around here isn't going to make her come back any quicker.
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'M not gonna sit, [ raleigh grumps. he considers throwing a fit about the cigarette, but whatever, yancy can have that one. he's got half a pack more, and turns to lean on the divider between pickup windows (oooh, so important, patient confidentiality) before smacking the pack on his wrist and pulling out another. ]
'M not a fucking cripple, Yance. 'N if you want her to run, you oughtta flash her your piece instead of your smile.
[ ah yes, a gigantic pain in the ass because of the burning pain in his foot — sure, yancy, whip out your
dickpistol and shoot everyone in the foot, they'll hop to it. ]no subject
I'm not flashing my piece in a hospital. [ He tells him simply, because even badass MC biker boys with stupid little brothers have their standards. And also because Yancy plans to see more of her. (Probably.) He smirks, because now that they've established that while it's a painful wound, it's nothing life-threatening, Yancy fully intends to not Raleigh live it down. Ever. And thus, he points out sensibly: ] And you've got a hole in your foot, Rals; that makes you a cripple.
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Fuck you, [ is the aggravated (term of endearment) dismissal that comes out of his mouth in the end. ] I'm going to wait outside.
[ and he hobbles like the delicate old man that he is, wincing every so often and convinced he's going to start bleeding a lot again, but far too stubborn to stop moving. he makes it outside before nearly toppling into the decorative flower bed ringed with a wide cement bench, and whenever yancy rejoins him, raleigh is happily chain smoking next to the no smoking sign, and glowering at anyone who dare approach him. watch out, he's wounded and didn't die; he's obviously dangerous. ]
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Don't swallow them all down at once. [ He's grinning when he sees Raleigh standing right next to the sign, before he lights his own and hands the plastic bag and water to him. Brotherly duties fulfilled for the time being, he takes a long drag and leans against the wall beside his grumpy sibling. ]
Come on, I'll take you out for a drink later, how about that?
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he's rooting in the bag almost immediately, intent on following a decent handful if not all of them. but his brother offers to get them a drink, and he's gotta roll his eyes and shake the orange bottle of hydrocodone in his face. ]
How many pain killers you know that go well with whiskey, huh?
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Unfazed by Raleigh's crabbiness, he regards him with amusement. ] How about that, huh?
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he's puffing on the filter now, and his calming habit has given way from soothing nicotine to the most disgusting flavor imaginable. so he pulls it from his lips, flicks it of to roll into the crack of the sidewalk somewhere. he makes to stand up again, and this time pointedly doesn't sling his arm around yancy's shoulders. he's going to be stubborn and keep trying to walk by himself. ]
Where'd you park?
[ he'll grumpily limp and pop some pills on the way to the truck. ]