goodfellow | for Thomas

for Thomas

When Robin woke, his fingers immediately went to his neck. Not only was the blood gone, but there was no wound. He wondered for a moment if he was dead... but no, he felt too shitty to be dead, he decided. Even if it was mostly non-physical.

He registered vaguely that he was in Thomas' bed and didn't care, just rolled over onto his stomach, put the pillow over his head, and groaned.

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Thomas' grip tightened on Robin's hip, on his cock, and with a few more thrusts he found his release a second time, shuddering as he came and then carefully pulling out, panting as he watched Robin with a concerned expression. He'd done what Robin had asked, but part of him wished he hadn't, and hated himself for enjoying it.

It had been pretty hot, though. In other circumstances...yeah. Very hot. Just not right then.

It was, in a way, cathartic for Robin. Though not as much as he might have hoped. When it was over, it was over, and suddenly he could feel again.

Collapsed down onto the mattress now, he curled up into himself and let out a small sound that sounded almost like a choked sob.

Thomas didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions or draw attention to the sob. He just laid down next to Robin and wrapped an arm around him carefully, drawing his own body closer, curling around him protectively. The questions would come in a minute, but for now he would offer comfort, nothing more.

Robin felt the arm around him and found himself thinking vaguely that he didn't deserve comfort. He hated feeling like this - hated it. He was a puck, he didn't do guilt. But the one thing in how many thousands of years that he truly regretted had come and smacked him in the face tonight, and it made him want to scream and cry and bleed.

He pressed his face hard against the pillow, not wanting Thomas to see him. So tight that he couldn't even tell if he was crying. He was shaking a little, but it could have just been from the pain.

Thomas moved his hand up, stroking Robin's hair gently, then kissed his shoulder and murmured, "I'll be right back." He wasn't sure if Robin would rather have him there or would prefer to have a moment to himself, but if the former, all the puck had to do was say the word and he'd stay.

Robin didn't say a word. But he did grab Thomas' wrist and grip it hard.

And then, in a display that he would never, ever admit to happening, he shifted his body so that he was curled up against Thomas instead, face buried in his chest, still holding onto his wrist like a life grip.

Thomas relaxed against Robin again. The cream for Robin's welts and lacerations could wait. He moved the hand not being clung to around Robin, petting his hair. "I'm here," he promised softly.

"It wasn't my fault, what she said," Robin said, the words barely audible, so muffled by the slur to his speech and by Thomas' chest. "Not that. It was a coincidence, after I left them."

Thomas considered those words for a moment, then asked quietly, "Then what? What did you do?" Because the punishment he'd just inflicted had to have been for something to upset Robin like this.

It was a long moment before Robin said anything at all. And when he finally did, it was again nearly inaudible.

"Of course they wanted to please their god," he murmured. "It was their duty. Their privilege. The virgins would come to me, I didn't even have to ask. And her... she was beautiful, and sweet, and obedient, and she thought it was her duty to pleasure her god. And then when she went home her husband beat her to death."

Thomas tightened his hold on Robin. "You had no way of knowing that would happen," he pointed out, continuing to stroke his hair.

"Then he came after me," Robin said flatly.

"So it was two bodies I left behind."

Thomas sighed and gave a little shake of his head. "It was a long time ago," he murmured.

"Everything is a long time ago for me," Robin said bitterly.

Thomas didn't know what to say to that, how to ease Robin's guilt. It was just two people, a long time ago. He wasn't sure why it weighed so heavily on Robin, but it clearly did.

"Robin..." He took a deep breath and sighed again.

Honestly Robin wasn't completely sure either, only that it did. And knowing that that specifically wasn't the reason that they'd come after him didn't help.

"I told you," he finally said, his voice still mostly flat. "That's the whole story... the truth. Just don't ask me to talk about it ever again."

"I won't," Thomas promised softly. He paused, then asked, "Can I take care of your back, now?"

Robin nodded numbly. "Yes."

He shifted so that he was lying entirely on his stomach. Wincing. And wiped his hand across his eyes, hoping Thomas didn't notice.

Thomas did notice, but he wasn't going to mention it. Not ever. "All right," he murmured, rising and quickly going to the bathroom for the first aid cream. He sat down on the bed with the jar in his hand, opening it and gently, carefully starting to rub the cream into the welts and lacerations on his back without a word.

Robin didn't say a word either, didn't complain, hardly even winced as Thomas rubbed the cream in. He made no indication that it was hurting him at all except that his eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

Despite Robin's lack of reaction, Thomas continued to be careful--and caring, tending to the wounds he'd inflicted as gently as he could. When he finished he set the cream aside and stretched out next to him again.

"I think I'm going to be staying here tonight," Robin said, turning his head to the side to face Thomas, finally. He sounded slightly more himself.

"Good idea," Thomas answered, brushing Robin's hair back from his face.

"You really thought I'd just taken off for good without a word?" Robin asked.

Honestly with everything else going on it was hard to even remember why he'd left in the first place.

"...If I'd thought that, I wouldn't have been there when you needed me. I wouldn't have been trying so damn hard to find you," Thomas pointed out. Though there had been part of him that thought that might have been just what Robin had done.

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