Criminal Minds ~ DNF

24

"So you see? I had to do what I did. I couldn't handle another year in that place. You have to understand, the distraction was entirely justified." George's left hand moved to where the bullet had gone in, feeling the little ridge it created in his skin. Justified... 

"As soon as I get out of here, I'm putting you right back where you belong," he deadpanned, turning his head so not to look at the killer. Justified...

"No, you're not." Dream set down the rag, putting his hands on either side of George, keeping him where he was. The brunette looked back, terror in his eyes. 

"You wouldn't dare."

Dream curled his lip over his teeth, baring them meanacingly. Thinking quickly, George bought his knees into the blonde's chest. He pushed himself off the bench while Clay coughed, winded.

"You little-" Dream snarled as George made a break for it. He ran through the unfamiliar house, looking for the front door. He entered the foyer, wondering if he was lucky enough for it to be unlocked. Alas, it wasn't just locked but bolted, padlocked and had a keypad attached. He wrestled with the locks while Dream strolled up behind him.

"The back door's open, you know," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. George cried out, terrified as Dream trapped him in between his arms. He stood there, George's feeble attempt at getting away hardly doing anything against his strong build.

"You're going to pay for that," Dream muttered darkly. He pushed George back to the kitchen, this time locking the chains to the sink faucet. It wouldn't hold strenuous amounts, but George was a pussy so Dream deemed it suitable. He went back to the box, this time pulling out a suture kit. George didn't see anesthesia.

"If you don't want me to poke your eyes out, I suggest you hold still."

____________________________________

Dream didn't need to take as long as he did while he stitched the long wound closed. He just wanted to see George hurting. Disgusting sadist, he thought to himself. The brunette had passed out from the pain about a minute ago and the blonde had gently moved him to the floor with a plan in mind. Clay was stroking his cheek, willing him to wake up and not remember anything about what Dream had done with the stitches.

"Mmph?" George hummed, probably wondering where he was. He was lying on carpet after sleeping on a cold concrete floor for a week. Anyone would be confused.

"Oh, thank God," Clay breathed, helping George to sit up. The brunette blinked twice against the sun rays streaming through the kitchen blinds, watching the way the light fell across Clay's relieved face. Was this a facade or had he been genuinely concerned?

"What happened?"

"You were looking around and just collapsed!" Dream lied. "I didn't move you because I was scared you were properly hurt. If you'd taken any longer to wake up, I'd have called for help."

"Even after what happened with- your friend?" George asked groggily, bringing his knees under his chin.

"No, I have two friends that are doctors," Clay told him. He didn't call Bad and Skeppy last time because he knew that they'd tell him to take Fundy to the hospital anyway.

"Oh. I faint sometimes, it's nothing to worry about," George assured. Clay smiled, standing and holding his hand out to the brunette. He took it and let the blonde haul him to his feet.

"C'mere, I wasn't quite done," Clay said, leading George to a barstool.

"Done with what?" The brunette frowned. He didn't know. Dream exhaled silently.

"We shot a little video for Captain Puffy, don't you remember?" He asked, false concern in his eyes.

"No," George replied, brows furrowing. Dream pulled out his phone, opening the gallery app and pushing play on the video clip. George watched, bringing his fingers up to his forehead and feeling the stitching.

"Oh, I remember now," he said with a satisfied nod. "That's really believable. I think that will do the trick." George watched as Dream pulled more things out of his little green box. The sewing needles went back in, and a thin roll of gauze came out. After Clay was finished, George looked completely and utterly stupid, but at least he was alive.

"Clay..." George prefaced, head down. "I don't want to ask too much of your generosity, but can you please have a look at my hands while we're here? They're killing me." Clay raised the brunette's hands, turning them in his and inspecting them.

"I don't see anything wrong with them," Dream frowned.

"Not my hands, sorry. Wrists." Dream eyed George suspiciously but unlocked one cuff all the same. He let out a small gasp when he saw the abrasions, red, raw and very, very sore.

"No more cuffs for you," Clay said definitively. George let a small laugh pass his lips as the blonde unlocked the other one.

Then, someone came around the corner.