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    Hugo couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to come to the conclusion that his partner was an impulsive idiot. Elsie had demanded to be released from the hospital early, and the doctors had okayed it. Idiots, all of them. There was space in the ER on a Tuesday afternoon. You’re going to be spending a lot more time here after you get your medical license, Hugo had said as he tried to block the door, but Elsie had whacked him with her crutch and that was the end of that conversation. Their car had been wrecked by whoever they were fighting. Hugo didn’t know when Elsie was getting a new car, or if it would be Renner with his drill sergeant body and mother bear attitude terrifying some used car dealer into giving them one. So now Hugo was helping Elsie home on foot, both of them still in bloodstained uniforms, and people were taking pictures, which wasn’t helping anything other than their follower count. Elsie demanded to walk herself home if she had to use the crutches. Hugo threatened to carry her if she tried that. Idiote, he had said. Tu es putain de fou. And then she had hit him with her crutch again and mumbled through the painkillers that she couldn’t stand him. Hugo had said it’s not like you can if you wanted to, and she had found that hysterical. She made it back to their apartment, and Hugo had gallantly not screamed at her for jumping out a window fourteen stories up and shattering her ankle along with the expensive car she landed on. He wouldn’t admit it was cool, either, and very badass. It was idiotic, and he told her so again.
    “At least I didn’t break more bones,” Elsie argued, wrenching herself free of Hugo’s grasp. She hadn’t needed to. Hugo threw his hands into the air, slapping them down on the edge of the counter.
    “You broke your ankle, seven ribs, and your collarbone, not to mention the fact that your arms are still bleeding. That’s a lot of bones. You only have 207, you know.”
    “206,” Elsie said without looking up. “Except I had an extra bone in my foot when I was  a kid, so I did have 207 for about twelve years.” Hugo shook his head, watching the blood wash off her hands and spiral down the drain of the sink. She swore and shoved some dishes aside to keep blood from getting on them. He stood up again, pulling his shirt away from his skin where blood had dried it to his ribs. The hospital staff hadn’t cared much about him.
    “Did they at least tell you to sit down for once in your life?” Hugo asked, grabbing rubbing alcohol and gauze from the top of the fridge and beginning to clean his own cuts. 
    “Did they tell you that you’re only the second emergency contact and I don’t need you to worry? I’ve got Renner for that. And let me clean that, you’re going to get an infection. Take off your fucking gloves. And take off your knives, I don’t want to be stabbed.” Hugo complied but shoved her into his chair, which squeaked as if in protest. Elsie stood back up. 
    “Ross, sit down or I’m going to tie you to the chair,” Hugo threatened, turning away just as Elsie’s eyes lit up for the first time in days. 
    “I’m not really--”
    “If you say you’re not into that I’m actually going to leave.” Elsie sighed and sat back in the chair, which squeaked again insistently. She held out her arms obediently enough when Hugo motioned for her to do so, but she couldn’t stand his running stream of you idiot you shouldn’t have I’m going to have to revive you from the dead just to kill you again that he mumbled as he wiped at her injuries angrily. Elsie made an annoyed sound, yanking the rubbing alcohol out of Hugo’s hands and pouring it over his shirt. Hugo yelped and grabbed a dish towel.
“Why’d you do that? You’re supposed to be the professional one!” Elsie rolled her eyes, dabbing the rubbing alcohol into the cuts. 
“I’m trying to keep you from getting an infection, idiot.” Hugo gave a long-suffering sigh. 
    “And I’m trying to stop Renner from breaking down the door and crying when he sees you,” he replied. Elsie looked out the window.
     “You know he wouldn’t cry. He’d punch you for not keeping me safe,” she said, rolling her eyes again. She looked back to Hugo. “And then I’d tell him I can damn well take care of myself.” Hugo shook his head.
     “Tu ne peux pas prendre soin d’un plante, ma crotte,” Hugo muttered. Elsie sighed.
    “You know I hate it when I don’t know what you’re saying.”
    “Obtiens un putain de dictionnaire français,” Hugo called after her. Elsie slammed her door. Hugo went back to cleaning his cuts, grumbling under his breath about incompetent doctors and annoying partners.



Note: so, it only took me like two months, but I did finally post this! Anyone has any opinions or whatever, I have more where this came from. 

Note pt 2: Renner is their handler of sorts, and also would kill a man to help Elsie. Possibly multiple, if he was motivated enough. 

Edited by queenie_flower
typos, man
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