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Fruity drew a shaking breath as he pulled himself up from the ground. He'd been stabbed, and this time… it was bad. He was alone, as the criminal stabbing him had died in the fight, it was dark, and to top it all off, he was late for the briefing that was supposed to take place that evening.
He sighed, then winced as he upset the wound. This was going to be a long walk back home, unless he could find a taxi to bring him to the HQ to get healed up.
That is, it was going to be a long walk back home, until he heard the telltale sound of paws against concrete. They came closer and closer, before landing behind him in an elegant show.
"Hi, Snowdrift", he sighed, turning back around and cursed as he nearly fell over. His stomach lurched, and he bit back a groan. "What are you doing here?"
"You weren't at the meeting", Snowdrift replied, brushing off some dust with a claw. Fruity followed the motion with his gaze, before looking back at the other hero. "So, like the fantastic guy I am, I offered to find you and get you back."
"Mhm", Fruity gritted out, leaning against a wall. "You got a car or anything? Because it'll be a long walk otherwise."
"Long walk? What do you—" Snowdrift furrowed his brow before seeing the injury. "Oh."
In just a moment, Fruity was pressed against the wall, Snowdrift holding him still as he addressed the gash. "Snowdrift—" he started, but was interrupted.
"Who did this to you?" Snowdrift growled, careful in an unfamiliar way. "Fruity, tell me who did this–"
"The guy who's lying dead in that alleyway", Fruity replied, shocked and out of breath, and jotted in the general direction with his thumb.
Snowdrift gritted their teeth. "Right. I'm calling for backup. You sit down, and don't move a muscle."
"Snowdrift–" he started, taken aback by the care and anger in his fellow hero's voice.
"Down, Fruity", came the sharp response, and Fruity gave up, slumping against the wall. He studied Snowdrift's body language as the other typed something furiously into their communicator. He'd never seen this side of Snowdrift before. The hero was confused as to why the lynx would suddenly… care, especially like this. Usually when he came back after having a stab wound, Snowdrift would just snort and tease him about it.
Though… thinking about it, there was always something relieved about it, each and every time.
"If I didn't know you better, I'd almost think you actually cared about me", he smirked up at the other, who stiffened mid-type.
"Good thing you do know me better", she scoffed, and continued typing. "The pickup team will be here in a few minutes. I'll tell them you're talking nonsense and need a sedative so I won't have to listen to your bullshit."
"Hey", Fruity protested. "I was just teasing! Come on. Though, you are acting awfully caring. It doesn't suit you."
"Shut up or I'll make that wound worse", Snowdrift glared. Effective, since she had done it before, on live television nonetheless. The newspapers hadn't shut up about it, how their rivalry had taken to "new heights".
The car got there just in time, as Snowdrift had taken to throwing small rocks against the corpse in the alleyway, and Fruity was starting to get concerned if she would start desecrating it, had he not been there. He stood up, and nearly fell over as the bloodloss made itself known, but was caught just in time by a pair of strong and… really nice arms. He muttered something, half delirious, and leaned into the makeshift embrace.
"Thanks for coming to get me", he mumbled into a shoulder, and felt the person sigh. "Wouldn't mind if you saved me more times."
"You don't know what you're saying", Snowdrift shook his head, and then Fruity blacked out.