In a fight (Dexter's trying to kill us)

Jordan took a step back and centered himself in front of the peephole, adjusting the strap of his medical kit. He saw the lighting through the hole change as someone looked out. He was relieved to hear Dexter's voice call out, "What do you want?" He sounded annoyed.

"I want to see how you're doing."

"I'm fine. Go away."

"Open up...Dexter. You know me. You know I'm not leaving until I make sure you're alright."

There was a long pause, then the door unlocked and opened. Jordan walked in. Dexter hobbled over to a kitchen chair and sank down in it. Jordan put his bag on the table next to it.

With his coat off, Jordan could see the purpling bruise on Dexter's left arm where someone had grabbed him. Jordan went to one knee in front of him. "I want to see if your arm's broken."

"I can move my hand. It's not broken." He looked dismissive and grouchy.

"That doesn't mean anything. I've seen people walk with a broken leg, even a broken back." Jordan put his hand on the upper, outer part of the other man's forearm. His elbow was swollen, but not discolored. When Dexter didn't flinch away, he slid his hand around behind the joint, fingers probing lightly. He watched Dexter's face for reaction. "You see, you have two bones in your forearm. If you only break one of them, and it's a simple fracture-" Dexter's brows pulled together and he shifted uncomfortably as it hurt.

Jordan nodded to himself and hooked his hand under the elbow and a little down the forearm, trying to feel what was going on. The skin was very cool. "You had an ice pack on?" Dexter nodded and inhaled sharply as Jordan pressed a spot. "Hang on, I'm going to do that again, okay?" Dexter nodded. This time he only grimaced. Jordan nodded slowly and took Dexter's wrist with his other hand, rotating it one way and then the other, his hand still underneath. He watched for Dexter's response, telling him where the pain was.

He pulled his hands back and rested them on Dexter's knees. "I'm not an x-ray machine, but I think you're right. I don't think it's broken - just hyperextended. Ice and rest and it should be fine. Might be sore for a few days or a few weeks. Don't try to stretch it out for a while. Just manage the pain and we can work on range of motion when the swelling goes down."
Dexter didn't say 'I told you so' or anything else. He was looking at Jordan's hands on his knees. It wasn't an unwelcoming look. Jordan smiled and patted one of them. "Now, tell me what's wrong with your leg."

"I kicked him in the shin. It hurt. And then because I was favoring that leg, I came down on it wrong. I think I twisted the ankle."

"Can I look?"

Dexter nodded. Jordan smoothed his hands down both calves. He knew it was the left again, given how Dexter had been walking, but he didn't pass up the chance to check the other leg for tenderness or blood. Dexter was getting more and more cooperative, but there were still a lot of unanswered questions. The left ankle was swollen up to the size of a big orange or a small grapefruit. He peeled off the sock gingerly and felt around at it. "You haven't had any ice on this?"

"I…" He shrugged and looked away, at the kitchen counter. Jordan followed his eyes to see a quart sized bag next to an ice tray.

"I interrupted?"

"No… I was on the couch when you knocked. I just got tired."

Jordan nodded. "I can't blame you. Looks like you had a busy evening." He slid his hand down and looked at the man's toes. As he'd expected, he found injection sites. "You've been shooting up here?"

Dexter tried to pull his foot back, but Jordan had one hand behind his heel and he held on. With the pain in his ankle, there was no way to get away without hurting - a lot.

Quiet and steady, Jordan said, "Dexter - I'm not judging. I need some honesty here. What are you on?"

"I'm clean right now. That's what the fight was over. I couldn't get any."

He waited, but there was no elaboration. Jordan parted the toes and looked at the webbing. The track marks were very minor. He wasn't an expert on illicit drug use, but he didn't think Dexter had shot up more than once between each. Assuming the other foot was the same, it was maybe a dozen times.

Jordan put the foot down gently. He stood, walking behind him, and began to pull up Dexter's shirt, bunching it and looking at his back. Dexter didn't fight him. He just sighed and leaned forward. As Jordan had expected, there was a scattering of bruises here, but to his surprise most of them were old, like the man had received a similar beating a decade or two ago and they were still fading. There were only a couple new marks on him, as apparently he'd taken the majority of this recent conflict on his face. He could see a larger one, fresh, darkening his hip and disappearing under his jeans.

Jordan dropped the shirt and came back around to the front. "I need to see the rest of you."

"What?"

"I need to see how bad you're hurt and I'm not going to believe you unless I see it. Take your pants off."

Dexter blinked up at him, getting angry. His lip curled. "For $20, I'll give you a blow job and for $30 you can fuck me. I don't drop my trousers for less."(That's Dexter for you...) He turned his head to the side, disgusted. "I'm not even all that expensive, Jordan. Just leave."

Jordan huffed. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Dexter's eyes came back as Jordan jerked two twenties out and angrily threw them on the table. He stuffed his wallet back in his pocket. "There's a tip," he said curtly. "Now stand up and show me what I want to see."

There was a long silence while Dexter looked at the bills. Finally he shook his head, reached out and pushed them towards Jordan. "I don't want your money."

"You're the one who brought it up. If I have to hire you for you to let me help you, then fine. I've paid." He pointed at Dexter's pants. "Off," he demanded.

There was another tense silence before Dexter finally stood and unbuttoned his jeans. He pushed them down, along with his boxers, to where they tangled around his ankles. He couldn't put a hand on the table to steady himself because it was to his left. He wavered. Jordan put out a hand to him and he caught it with his right. Jordan looked at his body.

The bruise on his hip extended down a little further, like he'd fallen hard against something unyielding. Given it was his left side that he had all these injuries on, Jordan figured he'd been unwilling to catch himself with his arm and just taken the fall on his hip instead. He had another large bruise on his leg above the knee. "What happened here? Did you get kicked?"

"Yes," Dexter said, subdued.

Jordan went to his knees, letting go of the other man's hand and instead steadying him with a hand on his right thigh. His pose was typical of a very different act and Dexter was not unaware of this. He touched the area around the bruise and judged the swelling. "This looks superficial."

Dexter didn't say anything. Jordan stood carefully and walked around him. The bruise on the hip wasn't visible from the back. "Okay," he said. "You were right. You're fine."

Dexter pulled up his pants with Jordan holding him steady. When he sat back down, Jordan opened his bag and got out wipes and ointment. This time he cleaned the strikes to his chin and jaw, and recleaned the mark above his eye. He searched around and found the one on his scalp, picking out a few more pieces of glass. Jordan pulled out his own comb and ran it gently through his hair to get any other bits out. Dexter submitted quietly. When he was done, Jordan said, "Let's get you back to the couch. You need to lay down and keep that ankle up."

After settling him in and arranging cushions, Dexter reached out with his right and grabbed Jordan's hand. He gave a single squeeze. Jordan gave him a soft smile in return. He wandered off into the kitchen and started poking around.

"What are you doing?"Dexter asked, able to hear the noise, but not see what Jordan was up to.

"I'm going to give you some painkillers. Just ibuprofen, that sort of thing. I'm getting you a glass of water, once I… ah, here." He found the glasses, got one out and filled it, then brought it and some pills. "Are you hooked on painkillers?"

"No," Dexter said, ducking his head. "Just euphorics and… things that get me high."

"Well, if you take the right painkillers, and enough of them, they'll do the same thing. All these will do is dull it a little though. You're telling me the truth, right?"

Dexter cringed a little and nodded once, collecting the medicine from Jordan's hand. "Yes, I am telling you the truth, Jordan. I wouldn't lie to you." He popped them in his mouth and took the glass, downing them.

Jordan took the glass back from him and went in the kitchen again. "Can I get you something else to drink?"

"Um," Dexter said hesitantly, "Tea, please?"

"It'd be better if you stayed away from caffeine."

"I have decaf. It's in the narrow cabinet next to the stove."

Jordan looked. "Found it." He started a pan of water, not seeing a teapot. Then he turned to getting an ice pack assembled for the ankle. He brought that out, repositioned Dexter's foot, and wrapped it carefully. "What do you have to eat around here?"

"Jordan you… you don't have to do this."

Jordan put a hand on the other man's shin and said, "I know." For a moment, Dexter just looked at him, meeting his eyes evenly. He had lovely eyes - deep, brown, rich, large, expressive and beautiful, even if they were a little bloodshot at the moment. Jordan smiled slowly, not noticing that his hand had begun to stroke small circles. The moment stretched on. Jordan realised the motion he'd been making and pulled his hand back.

"I don't mind," Dexter said immediately.

Jordan's gaze snapped up to his. "You don't?"

"No," he said softly.

Jordan looked back at his shin and reached out to give it a tentative pat. "That's good. So what do you have to eat? I'm hungry, and I doubt you ate anything tonight. You look like you're starving yourself. You need something on your stomach to go with those pills I gave you. Otherwise you'll get nauseous."

Dexter shrugged. "If the bread's still good, we could have sandwiches. I think there's some salmon in cans."

Jordan patted him more heartily and stood up, grinning. Gabriel's apartment had been stocked with red salmon. The man never got tired of eating it. Apparently it was one of his favorites, smelly though it was - that and tuna, but apparently he preferred salmon. "Sure. I'll make us sandwiches."

The bread was fine. The tea finished steeping. Jordan returned with a pair of sandwiches and glasses. He pulled over a TV tray Dexter directed him to, to use as their table. They ate, not speaking until they were done.

"So," Jordan said, collecting up their plates and heading back to the kitchen to get refills on their drinks. "Will you tell me what happened?"

Dexter knew what he meant. It was the elephant in the room and they both knew Jordan wasn't asking how he got beat up. "You know they were…following us."

"Yeah." Jordan came back and handed Dexter another glass of tea.

"Well..." He sighed and rubbed at his face a little, his injuries making the familiar all-over face-scrub gesture difficult. "Ah… there's so much. I think I'll just keep it simple, to what matters. They… they came up with a variant of a virus. They gave injections to everyone they considered 'dangerous'...I was deemed dangerous."

"A virus?"

"Yep," Dexter looked at him sadly. He shook his head, tears suddenly in his eyes. He turned his face away. "Jordan… just… go away, alright? You left before. Just leave again. Just go. Leave me alone again."

Jordan tensed and kicked himself hard, mentally. He'd been waiting, all this time, for Dexter to approach him (not Gabriel). Dexter had been waiting for the same thing. The drifting apart wasn't due to lack of interest, it was due to lack of understanding and yet he had known - he'd known! Dexter wasn't going to push himself on him, not after everything they had between them.

Realization was followed swiftly by action. He shifted the TV tray out of the way and went to Dexter's side, sitting on the narrow bit of couch available to him. He reached out and touched Dexter's cheek boldly. "No… No, I'm not leaving."

Dexter turned to look at him, uncertain and hopeful. Jordan leaned in very slowly, watching him all the while for some sign that he was unwelcome or being too forward. He knew Dexter was open to this. Whether he would allow it from Jordan was the question though. The other man tilted his head forward slightly in invitation, matching the angle of Jordan's head. Relief passed through him and Jordan let his lips touch Dexter's, pressing in slightly. His fingertips caressed his right cheek. Dexter's right hand rose to stroke gently at Jordan's ribs. He lost himself in the simple kiss.

When Jordan finally leaned away he was shaking a little. He reached out impulsively to let his fingers trace the other man's lips, suddenly wanting to have all of him. Dexter kissed his fingertips and asked breathily, "You're staying the night?"

It was only a question, stated simply but with so much hanging on the answer. Jordan responded with one of his own, still making sure where he stood, still not believing it was Dexter. "Can I?"

"I only have the one bed, but it's a double."

Jordan looked at the couch Dexter was lying on. There was no need for him to sleep in Dexter's bed with him, but clearly that's what he was being offered. "I'd love to. But I think you're a little too banged up for us to do anything."

Dexter grinned broadly enough he winced as the expression pulled at his injuries. It quieted all of Jordan's doubts.

-Dexter

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