Remdy one shots

Valid

Fluffy hurt/comfort for you x 

Trigger Warning: Depression, self-harm, blood/injury

* * * 

Andy was part way through mixing cake batter in a bowl when his phone buzzed on the counter, and leaning the whisk against the edge of the bowl, he picked it up, opened a message from his husband, who was upstairs and who usually shouted if he wanted something from a different room. 

The text read: 'Please come help me???' 

Andy couldn't work out whether he wanted help with something like moving an item of furniture, or if it was a more serious matter, so he replied: 'What with? I'm making cake, remember? And you said you wanted to help, but it's nearly ready for the oven now.' 

Remington sent back immediately: 'I know, sorry. Hope you're not mad? Please come up when you have a sec. I need you. Please??' 

Andy: 'Something happen? Come down and we can talk while I finish this?' 

Remington: 'No, you need to come here. Please.'

Andy: 'Okay, won't be long. Bedroom?' 

Remington: 'Yes. Thank you.' 

Andy read the message as he left the kitchen, leaving the cake batter in the bowl to pour into the tin later, beginning up the stairs and crossing the landing to the bedroom. The door was half open, and he stepped in, stopped, frowned. 

Sitting on the floor, Remington looked up at him. He said nothing.

"Oh, honey," Andy said quietly, kneeling down opposite. "Hey, it's okay. Look at me. Look at me, baby. It's okay. You're okay." 

"Sorry for not helping you with the cake." 

"Shh, don't be silly. Don't apologise. I can't promise I did it right, though, so if it tastes like shit - Oh, honey, hey, it's okay. It's okay. Come here, it's alright." He took Remington in his arms, held him to his chest, stroked his hair. 

Remington mumbled, "Is the cake nearly done?" 

"It still needs to go in the oven." 

"I'm sorry." 

"No, shh." 

"I don't even know why I - why I did this. I don't - " He cut himself off, shook his head as though what he was saying made no sense, sniffled. 

"Why aren't you hugging me back?" Andy asked. 

"Don't wanna get blood on your shirt." 

"Fuck the shirt. I'll ruin all my shirts for you any day." 

Remington breathed a laugh, hesitating before wrapping his arms around his husband, careful not to make contact with the wounds on the inside of his elbow.

"Did something happen?" Andy asked into his neck. "To cause this? Bad day or something?" 

"No, I...I don't know. It just...happened." 

"Okay. That's okay. If you want to talk about it, you know I'll always be here to listen and offer my bad advice." 

"I love your bad advice." 

"Mm, I'm glad someone does." 

"Can we just have cake for dinner?" 

"Absolutely, we can. If it doesn't taste like shit. And I really can't promise that it doesn't, because the recipe was so annoying to follow that I kinda just threw shit in a bowl and mixed it until it looked like cake mix. So, honestly, I could be accidentally poisoning us both." He kissed Remington's jaw and pulled back, held his face in his hands, smiled. "Let's take care of your arm, then we can put the cake in the oven." Hesitation, then, "Is it just your arm?" 

Remington nodded. 

"Alright. Are you okay to stand? Not dizzy or anything?" 

"No, I'm fine. I'm good." 

Andy stood first, holding his hands out for Remington to take, pulling him off the ground and leading him into the en-suite, where he dampened folded tissues under the cold tap. 

"I feel so stupid," Remington said, straightening his arm before him. "Like, nothing even happened today. Like, nothing bad. And I don't even know what happened. I mean, I was fine, you know? I was good all day, and then I'm on my own for five seconds and suddenly decide that I wanna do this. Like, what?" 

One hand under Remington's elbow to support it, Andy gently began dabbing at the drying blood. "That doesn't mean you're stupid, you know? Your feelings, your thoughts, your actions, they're all valid, even if sometimes you don't understand them." 

Remington watched his hand. "It's just, like, I have nothing to be upset about. My life's great, I have everything I always wanted. And I'm not sad, I'm not. But then, I guess I must be, if I still - if this still happens." He sighed, shook his head. "I just feel so stupid." 

"You're not stupid. And just because you've got all you wanted doesn't mean you don't have the right to have bad moments, bad days. We all have them. I mean, we both know I do. And I have everything I ever wanted, too: a band I fucking love, a husband I fucking adore, amazing friends, dedicated fanbase, a home, cats. But that doesn't mean my bad days are any less valid than someone who's working a job they hate, or struggling to get out of bed every morning, or going through a break up." He dropped the tissue into the toilet and wet another one. "And when I have these days, when you have to pick me up and hug me and tell me it's okay, you don't ever look at me and think, 'why is he sad, he has everything,' do you?" 

"Of course not," Remington answered. "I would never." 

"Exactly. And it's just the same for you, my sweet. I know it's hard to think about yourself the same way you think about other people. But everything you feel, whether or not you understand it, or like it, or know the cause of it, is valid and okay and not stupid. Okay?" 

Remington was quiet.

Andy repeated, "everything you feel is valid. I promise. Where are the plasters?" 

"Under the sink? I don't know. You're the one who keeps re-organising the bathroom. I really don't know how you can find so many different places for everything." He watched his husband bend down to look in the cupboard under the sink, added, "Thank you. For saying all that. I think I needed to hear it." 

"We all need reminding sometimes. Ah, here they are. Oh, they have flowers on them. Did you buy these?" 

"If our plasters don't have flowers on them, are they really our plasters?" 

Andy chuckled. "Man, I love you so much." He gently stuck a large plaster over the worst of the cuts. "Alright, there we go. All done. Feel okay? Do you need water or anything?" 

"Yes. Cake." 

"Mm, it needs to bake first I'm afraid. Give me a kiss." 

Remington did, and smiled against Andy's lips. "You're the best," he half-slurred into his mouth. "Like, you don't even know how much you're the best." Wrapping his arms around Andy, he pulled the elder into him.

For a while, they were quiet, until Remington complained that he wanted cake, making Andy laugh and pull away, placing a kiss on his mouth before beginning for the stairs.