Trigger warning : mention of suicide, injury, sex (apparently if smut is part of a storyline they don't take it down so might put some in soon if ur lucky, just don't report me or I'll kill u)

Seeing Emerson at the hospital room door, Andy gets off the bed and ushers his out of the room, saying, "you've got a nerve showing up here after what you've done," after the door has closed.

"That's not fair," Emerson says. "It's not my fault if he can't look after himself."

Andy folds his arms and glares. "You know he can't look after himself. That's why you we're looking after him."

"He's a grown man, Andy, he shouldn't need looking after."

"Have you forgotten that he nearly fucking died? Emerson, come on. You think this is any easier for me? And what about Remington? You think he's having a good time? Have some fucking respect!"

"Stop shouting."

Andy scoffs. "I suppose you thought showing up here was a good idea, huh?"

"What? Am I not allowed to visit my brother?"

"The brother that, thanks to you, has a fractured hip? Hmm."

"I'm sorry, Andy, but you can't blame me. I only left him in the house for twenty minutes, how was I supposed to know he'd go out?"

"You're not supposed to leave him in the house alone, dick head!" He shakes his head. "All you had to do was keep him safe for a few weeks while I was working on not offing myself, and look what happened! Now why don't you leave before I fucking put you in one of these beds?"

"Alright, alright. No need to get violent."

"Go," Andy demands, pointing down the corridor. "Thanks for everything, now go."

"It's not like he's dead, Andy, stop being such a drama queen."

"A drama queen? Emerson, my husband, your brother, was left in the park with a broken wrist and a fractured hip and may I remind you, no memory. Can you imagine being in that position of being in so much pain but not knowing what the fuck caused it or where you are or how you got there? He could have been attacked, Emerson! He could have been fucking kidnapped or thrown into a fucking river! But sure, why don't I stop being such a drama queen."

"All I'm saying is, he's an adult."

"And all I'm saying is, if you don't fuck off right now, you'll be the one in pain, and let me tell you, it'll be a little worse than just a fractured hip!" He shakes his head, points down the hall again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my husband. Cheerio, now."

"What happened to you? You used to be nice."

Andy scoffs again. "Oh, I am nice, just not to people who put my husband in harm's way. Now fucking piss off!"

"I'm just saying, maybe you should back off."

"Back off? From what? Protecting him when you lot clearly are incapable? He's vulnerable, genius! He needs protecting or shit like this happens! Fucking go!" Andy watches him walk away for a few seconds before turning and going back into the room, where Remington is sitting with a magazine in his lap.

"What's that?" He asks, once Andy returns.

The man looks at what he's pointing to, saying, "that? It's an eyeshadow pallet."

"It's pretty."

"Mhm."

"You were shouting."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Because some people piss me off." He sits back on the bed. "It was your brother. He was being a twat."

"Twat?"

"Just means stupid."

"Oh, okay."

"Anyway, how're you?"

Remington looks at him. "I'm okay. Bored."

"Mm, I'm not surprised. You've been sat in here for two days now."

"I have?"

"Yep." Andy smiles. "You've been sleeping mostly."

"But I'm still tired."

"It's the medication they're giving you."

"Medication. That's...that's, uh, that's what they give you when you're sick?"

"That's right, love."

"And I'm sick?"

"Well, you're injured."

"Oh, right. That's what this is." He pokes the cast on his wrist. "It's ugly."

Andy chuckles. "Want me to decorate it?"

"How?"

"I can ask for some markers."

"Okay." He turns the magazine page. "Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing, I just like saying your name."

"That might be the single most romantic thing I've ever heard." Andy gets off the bed, saying he'll be back in a moment and going to find some coloured markers. He returns with a packet of sharpies and draws flowers and a butterfly on Remington's cast, kissing it afterwards and making him giggle. "There," he says. "It's not ugly anymore."

"No, it's pretty now. Thanks, Andy."

"You're welcome, love. D'you want a snack from the vending machine?"

"That's food, right?"

"That is food, yes."

"Then yes please."

Andy gets a coffee, a packet of crisps, and a bar of chocolate, passing the chocolate to Remington and smiling at his reaction. "Nice?" He asks.

Remington nods and grins.

"Mm, you're cute."

"Love you."

"Love you, too, baby. Here, give me a piece. You can have some of my coffee if you like."

"Okay. Thanks, Andy."

The man passes him the cardboard cup of coffee. "You're having surgery tomorrow, yeah?"

"Surgery?"

"So they can fix your hip, sweetie."

"Will it hurt?"

"No, you'll be asleep the whole time."

"Okay."

"And then we can go home."

Remington passes the drink back. "Yay, home," He says enthusiastically. "I like home."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Cause it's safe. And cause we can, uh..."

Andy chuckles. "Mm, I'm not sure a fractured hip would agree with that, unfortunately."

Pouting, the younger reaches for the drink again, smiling when Andy lets him take it. "Stupid fractured hip," he says disapprovingly.

"I'm sure we can find a way around it, don't you worry. You're having all my coffee."

"It's mine now."

Andy hums, amused. "I'm about to die of dehydration over here," He jokes.

"Hey, I know what that means! I means you're thirsty."

"For more than just coffee," Andy says under his breath. "Yes, it does mean I'm thirsty."