Matt stumbles back immediately. Clay shakes his hand and follows, walking at him with confidence like he's the fucking terminator or some shit—
I'm completely frozen, watching in what feels like slow motion. I caused this. I didn't want this. I don't want Clay to get hurt.
It's weird in a way, that other people around and near the store haven't noticed what's happening quite yet. It feels like we're in a bubble.
Then, Matt shouts.
"What the fuck, man?"
A few people turn to look for that, watching just in time to witness Clay slam his fist directly into Matt's face. There's a scream from somewhere, commotion elsewhere, people noticing what's unfolding.
Matt stumbles back, lifting a hand to the blood pouring from his nose, then pulling it back and looking at it like a gesture of disbelief.
"Learn some fucking social cues." Clay spits out, then literally spits. "And leave her the fuck alone."
Do I moan? Yes. Do my thighs clench? Also yes.
Sadly, his up-streak doesn't last long.
Matt charges, and though Clay dodges the punch, he doesn't dodge the grapple. Suddenly they're backing up, fast. I step aside with a yelp as they slam into the wall right next to me.
Matt pays Clay back for his second punch, right into his face, giving him the exact same bloody nose. It's... hard to watch.
"When I'm done with you, I'm fucking your girlfriend." Matt starts, then punches again while Clay struggles. "I bet that whore screams nice—"
Something in Clay's expression briefly breaks through the calm facade. Shit. He's losing his mental.
I have to look away, breath feeling more and more labored, curling in on myself.
I notice a few things, a person recording, the manager of the gas station on the phone with likely the police, and a few gawkers.
I look back in time to see Clay knee Matt in the stomach as he simultaneously slams their foreheads together. It's successful in dazing Matt, but I watch him flinch as well.
He's not self-preserving anymore, he's fighting with intent.
Clay takes the opening to charge, knocking Matt to the ground and climbing on top of him. There's a rough minute struggle, Matt thrashing against Clay, slamming punches to his body while Clay plants his palm to Matt's likely broken nose and presses with his whole weight.
Finally, Clay reels back and punches Matt in the face, hard enough there's a wet crunch.
I hear sirens as Clay punches again.
He punches again.
And again.
Until the mother fucker is slept, knocked out, limp under him, everyone standing around too afraid to approach.
"Sit, bitch." Clay says, then spits blood in his face, pulling back, slowly rising up to standing.
I finally find the ability to walk, and run up, wrapping around Clay from behind, helping him lift.
"We have— we have— we have to fucking go—" I stutter out between breaths, seeing the flash of sirens down the street.
Clay grunts, leaning into me, obviously pretty badly beat himself. I take the lead, tugging him off toward— anywhere but here.
We stumble together, breath labored, heads low. I don't dare to speak, focusing my whole being into putting one foot in front of the other as Clay limps next to me, leaning against me.
I need— we need—
"HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!" Shouts an authoritative voice, somewhat distant, but close enough it's likely for us.
Unspoken, we do not stop. We break apart and fucking run. For once, I'm thankful for the weekend night crowd, everywhere particularly busy because of Halloween.
We weave through people, attached only where our hands are tangled together.
It's easy to get lost in it, singularly focused, feeling nothing but the physical adrenaline, labored breaths, and quick steps.
I'm not sure how long we're running straight before I feel confident enough to slow, tugging Clay to slow with me. He immediately stops, limping up to a curb and sitting the fuck down, clenching his stomach.
"Shit." Clay groans out.
I swallow my nerves, crashing from the earlier adrenaline, darting my eyes around to check for cops one more time before I push on his shoulder.
Clay grunts, shifting back with my guidance, looking up at me. I finally see his face.
There's... there's quite a bit of blood, some streaming from his nose, some from a busted lip, some from a cut above his eye. Speaking of, that eye is puffy, already swelling shut.
I immediately whimper, dropping into his lap and latching on, burying my face into his neck so I can breathe.
Clay briefly grunts in pain, which makes me feel bad, but he quickly lifts his hands to my back, wrapping me tight in his arms.
"I'm sorry." I whimper out. "I'm fucking— I'm so sorry." I continue, snuffling into his neck.
Clay grunts one more time, shifting his legs to support me better. I keep moving, pressing everything of mine to everything of his, our heavy breaths moving our stomachs together.
"Are you okay?" Clay asks, and I start to laugh, hysterical, pulling back with tears in my eyes.
"Am I okay? Are you fucking—" I sit up, laughing, lifting my hands to cup his face, pressing a thumb to his busted lip, watching as he flinches. "You got beat to hell— and you wanna know if I'm okay?"
Clay groans, trying to shake my hands, but I keep pressing closer.
"I thought I was about to watch you get pummeled you—" I stop, whining, swallowing my words, leaning in to press his face into my chest, cradling his head. Blood be damned. "Christ Clay, that was so close."
He groans again, soothing his hands up my back to my shoulders. "Cut me a little slack. I play fuckin' Minecraft all day. I'm not a fighter." He mumbles.
I laugh, only more hysterical, pulling back to search his face, touching it everywhere like I need to double check he's still there.
"Could've fooled me! Terminator lookin' ass—" I squawk, high-pitched.
Clay splits into a smile for that, laughing whenever he isn't groaning. I can't help that I lean in, pressing my mouth to his, pushing my tongue out to lick the blood from his lip, noises desperate in my throat.
He makes a noise of surprise before he pushes into it, moving against my mouth with a demanding insistency.
There's something communicated in the kiss that we're both too stupid to say: I'm scared. I need you. I can't lose you. But, we can both feel it in the way we're moving, pushing into each other's mouths and trying to claim space.
I break the kiss to breathe, but Clay surges forward, chasing it, and I'm locked right back in. My hands curl in his hair, pulling, pushing, doing fucking everything they can to move with this kiss, teeth clicking together with the effort we're using to push into each other.
It's metallic, rough, a stupid decision. But, it's the only thing keeping me present right now.
We finally pull out of the kiss, but not out of each other's space, knocking our foreheads together, bumping noses, despite the way it must hurt for Clay.
There's only another moment of us grounding each other, breathing, before Clay speaks. "Can we— can we find a bathroom somewhere? All I can taste is— blood." He says, then leans to the side, spitting blood out onto the sidewalk.
It makes me whimper again, feeling like a baby.
I lift my hand to his nose, touches feather light. "Do you think it's broken?" I ask, voice small.
Clay hums, but shakes his head no. "I mean— it hurts. But I don't think so. I think it's just a busted vessel." He says.
I laugh again, dropping my trembling hands to his shoulders, feeling small, scared. I have to take another second to steady myself, looking up and around, realizing I have no clue where we are, other than the fact that it's residential. We should probably move, fast, before we get the cops called on us here, too.
I pull my phone out and look at the map.
"There's a... Walmart about a quarter mile that-a way." I say, pointing left, then looking at his face. "Could fix you up in the bathroom then we could grab an Uber home." I say, managing as much of a smile as I can.
Clay nods for that, looking a little woozy.
I hop out of his lap and up, then help him to stand. I have to plaster myself to his side, supporting him as we walk.
It takes... much longer than it should to get there. But that's totally fair given the circumstance. It's enough that we get there at all.
I briefly pray that the blood caking Clay's face will pass as a weird Halloween costume choice as I lead him to a family bathroom, and by the way we don't get stopped, it must, thank God.
I guide Clay to lean on the sink, grab a bundle of paper towels, wet them, and start to wipe the blood from his face. As I work, I feel my phone start buzzing.
I ignore it, but it keeps going, and keeps going, and keeps going. I huff, passing the towels to Clay and check it, seeing Ellie's calling. I knit my brow and answer.
"What?" I ask.
Ellie immediately screams. "DID CLAY GET IN A FUCKING FIGHT OUTSIDE 7/11?"
I purse my lips, looking up at Clay with a worried expression.
"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement." I mumble, careful.
"White male, approximately 6'4", 180lbs, medium build, khaki buttoned shirt, khaki shorts, brown boots, brown hat, wanted for aggravated assault. Possible female accomplice 5'—"
"Ellie." I interrupt. "I can neither confirm nor deny that statement." I say again.
Ellie 'ohs', then hangs up the call.
I huff, shaking my head, and put my phone away, looking back to see Clay looking over his lip in the mirror, blood mostly cleaned.
"I need to go buy you some new clothes, big man." I say, then walk up, burying my face in his back instead of doing that.
"Yeah? We in trouble?" Clay asks, knowing.
"Maybe." I mumble into his shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm— I'm so stupid. I could have just— I'm sorry." I say again.
Clay laughs, turning in my hold to wrap one arm around me and squeeze, before pressing a kiss to my forehead. "My fault too. I should've just stayed calm. Got you home. I acted emotionally instead of thinking." He says, like an admittance.
I sniffle where I'm buried. "No. You're a good man." I mumble, then knock my head against his chest. "Now gimme your wallet." I say.
Clay laughs again, fishing it out of his pocket and slapping it to my hand.
I steel myself, pulling back, taking a steadying breath. I just have to be quick. I make my mental list, and nervously comb the store.
As I pick my items I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, nervous, self-conscious, wanting to be done with this. I do it as quickly as I can, getting cotton balls, antibiotic, bandages, gauze, alcohol wipes, a new outfit for me, a new outfit for Clay, and, realizing I left my snacks, an Arizona and a fatass bag of mixed candy.
The shirt I got for Clay is... ridiculous. It's stupid to do but it steadies me, helps me feel... normal. Though, this is anything but.
As I check-out, I notice the time, 12:18am, and briefly laugh. It's officially Halloween.
I drag the bags back over to the bathroom and knock. Clay cracks the door, sees me, and opens it all the way for me to slip in.
I drop the bags, and lock the door, then start to strip.
Clay kicks off his boots, drops his hat on them, and pulls his shirt off at the same I drop my bodysuit. He pauses for a moment, looking at my chest, and I fluster.
"Eyes are up here—" I mumble, dropping my ears, cufflinks, and collar on top of his pile of clothes.
He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn't look up.
"They looked at me first." He says, then drops his shorts.
I huff, turning away from him, fighting a smile, and hook my hands into the waistband of the fishnets.
"Wait." Clay says.
I pause, turning to look at him over my shoulder. "What?" I ask.
"Can you— can you keep those?" He asks.
I lift my brows, then raise my hands in surrender, dropping to dig for the clothes I got for myself. Which— has now just been deduced to a massive black hoodie and $1 flip flops. I bought leggings to go with it, but I don't want to wear that over the fishnets.
I also put my hair up, watching Clay crouch to dig for the outfit I got him with a small smile. Hope he likes it. The first item he grabs is the massive bag of candy. He holds it up, staring at me.
"Yeah? Was this necessary?" He asks.
I smile, grabbing it out of his hand and tearing it open so I can grab a caramel. "Yes." I say back.
Clay glares, shaking his head, but leans forward, grabbing a sucker and popping it in his mouth before going back to looking for his clothes.
He finds the grey joggers first. He looks up at me, blinking, but doesn't say anything, standing up to put them on. Next, he slips on the knock off berks. Finally, he finds the shirt. I have to bite my lip to hide my smile.
Clay shakes it out, holding it in front of his face to read it, brow furrowed. I see the moment realization hits and he looks up to glare at me.
"I'd rather be playing Minecraft." Clay says, reading the shirt.
I fully laugh, covering my face with both hands.
"You're a fucking clown." He grumbles, but puts it on.
"Actually—" I start, then kneel, reaching into a bag and pulling out a clown nose. Clay looks at me like he's about to snap.
"I thought this could cover your fucked up nose." I say, barely, then pull out an eye-patch, "And this for your fucked up eye—" I say, laughing.
Clay sighs, then walks right at me. I yelp, turning, but he grabs me before I can dash, holding me to his chest.
"You think you're so fuckin' funny, huh?" He asks, low, but I can hear the humor in his voice.
I giggle. "Yes."
Clay squeezes me, and finally breaks into a laugh of his own, pressing his face to my neck.
"We're wanted by the cops and you're— you're making— Minecraft jokes." He says, wheezing as my lips twitch. "S'why I love you." He mumbles, pressing a single soft kiss to my neck before dropping me back to the ground.
It makes my heart thump, the words... unexpected.
I turn, watching Clay settle back against the sink, holding cotton, shaking his head and smiling. I get right up in his space.
"I got it." I say, soft, moving to swipe the cotton out of his hand.
Clay dodges me. "I can— I can stuff shit up my own nose." He says, laughing.
I immediately pout, moving fast to swipe it again, much more forceful. "You're always taking care of me. Let me take care of you." I say, firm, and Clay raises his hands in surrender, passing it off to me.
I lift to my tip toes, pressing his head to force him to tilt it back. I grimace as I pull the toilet paper he stuffed up his nose and replace it with cotton. Then I let him tilt his head back.
I immediately crouch, coming up with the whole bag of medical supplies and dropping it to the counter behind him. Clay smiles, shifting, leaning back, honestly relaxing.
"Yeah? You havin' fun big man?" I ask, taking an alcohol wipe and pressing it to the cut above his eye hard enough that he flinches.
Clay just hums, lifting one hand to rest on my waist, further parting his legs to give me space. I keep up what I'm doing, popping a bandaid on his brow.
I move onto his lip next, and accidentally wipe hard enough that I tear the cut back open. Clay takes a sharp breath, flinching again, and lifts his hand to press to the cut, pulling it back and seeing the blood on his fingers.
"Sorry." I say, sheepish, pausing for a moment.
Clay just shakes his head, giving me a reassuring smile, then quickly pops his fingers inside of his mouth alongside the sucker to clean them.
It's not... my fault that my breath hitches. But, Clay catches it, a single brow quirking.
"Yeah?" He asks.
I fluster. "Shut up." I mumble back, having trouble maintaining eye-contact.
Clay doesn't, though, and just stares me down until I'm brave enough to look up and face him back. The second I do, his hand is on my jaw, holding my face in place.
I watch as he lifts his fingers to the cut again, and swipes at the blood. He pauses for just a second, then squeezes my face, forcing my lips to part. He lifts the bloodied fingers to my lip, nearly pushing them in my mouth before pausing.
"Can I?" He asks.
It takes me a second to process, but the moment I do I nod, eyes fluttering.
Clay pulls into an immediate smirk, then pushes his fingers into my mouth, shallow. I hollow my cheeks, lathing my tongue, cleaning them up. He must like it, if the shuddered breath he takes means anything.
"That's my girl..." He says, quiet, then lowers his face until it's close enough to mine I can feel his breath.
I keep eye-contact the entire time, lifting a hand to curl around Clay's pinky and ring finger, stilling his hand as I pull off the digits. He hums, pushing his hand forward again, clearly wanting his fingers back in my mouth, but I shake my head.
Clay quirks a brow as I lean in, lips parted, and press my tongue to cracked skin of his knuckles, licking the cuts there. He swallows, taking a heavier breath, eyes dropping to watch my tongue.
It doesn't last long.
The hand Clay is using to cup my face drops to my neck and wraps around it, just barely lifting me so he can angle in for a kiss, sucker still in his stupid mouth.
I moan, eyes quickly closing as our lips connect and his tongue swipes into my mouth, dragging in blood and sugared spit. It tastes like... watermelon and pennies. Sharp, sweet, warm.
I moan, then take some control, pushing my tongue back into his mouth. I quickly curl it around the sucker, then tug, pulling it into my mouth before immediately pulling back.
I smile, smug, popping the sucker out of my mouth, holding it by the stick and looking up into Clay's eyes. He watches with heat as I lean forward, tongue first, and lathe the candy.
"Tease." He mumbles immediately, lifting his hand off my throat to cup my face again, dragging his thumb along my lip.
I smile. "Is it still teasing if I'm going to suck your dick?" I ask.
Clay's mouth drops in surprise, eyebrows lifting, before he leans back, hands already on his waistband.
I laugh. "No! Not— not in the fucking Walmart bathroom—" I say, slapping at his hand.
He fakes a pout, lips fighting to smile. "Will you please reconsider?" He asks, and I shake my head, laughing at him.
"Yeah, you're right. I've reconsidered. I'm not doing it at all now." I say, stabbing a finger to his chest. "Minecraft boy."
Clay makes a noise of protest, face splitting into a grin. "Well, Fine! I would rather be playing Minecraft, anyways." He says, slapping the graphic of his shirt.
I know that I bought it, but still, I sigh in disgust.
I turn away from Clay, dropping to collect all of our crime clothes into a single bag for disposal. All except the hat. I like the hat. He crouches with me, doing the same thing, but with a bag of shit we're keeping. He grabs himself a new sucker as well. Strawberry, this time, I note. I can't wait to taste it.
I put the hat on my head then I turn, tying off the bag, and see Clay actually put on the clown nose and eye-patch. I yelp, laughing, staring at him, grin splitting my face.
Clay lifts his hands, nodding. "Fuckable or what?" He asks, and I nearly fold from laughing so hard.
I reach out to slap his arm, then unlock and swing the bathroom door open. "C'mon bozo. We've got children's birthdays to attend—" I joke, then slip out of the bathroom.
We're greeted by a very irritated looking father holding his child. I immediately fluster, ducking my head as Clay keeps pressed to my back, shuffling out with me. I try as hard as I can to not immediately laugh, and actually manage it this time.
Though, it bursts out the second we're outside, as I jam our bag of blood-covered clothes into a trashcan. What a wild fucking night.
Clay wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me over to a bench to sit. "10 mins for Uber." He says, simple, and pulls me down into his lap.
Though I'm tempted to be horny, turn and get a taste of that candy right now, I control myself, pulling out my phone. I see I've missed a text from Ellie, a link to a video on Twitter.
I click it and groan, immediately angling the phone for Clay to see.
'CROCODILE HUNTER ABSOLUTELY DECIMATES FLORIDA MAN OUTSIDE OF 7/11'
We watch the fight unfold with my jaw dropped, right up until Clay shouts 'Sit, bitch.' And the video cuts.
Clay laughs under me. "I don't even remember— half of that." He says, chuckling. "I'm gonna be honest, he said 'Ma—' and my vision went fucking red."
I duck my head, shaking it, then copy the link to the video, navigating to Discord.
"Don't—" Is all Clay gets out, before its sent directly to George and Sapnap. I giggle mischievously. "Babe." He sighs out, obviously done with my bullshit.
I turn to look at Clay, a proud smile splitting my face. "Oh you didn't want me to send that? I guess you'll have to punish me by face f—" I start, but Clay claps his hand over my mouth, eyes darting over to a guy that walks up and starts smoking.
I don't miss the way Clay's hand tightens around my waist, almost imperceptibly shifting to put his body between me and the other guy. He does this wordlessly, and I'm not even sure if he's aware of it.
Still, it has me gushy. My big, protective, sensitive man. I lean forward just close enough to peck to corner of his lips, but it's enough for him to lift his hand, pulling the sucker out of my mouth, then the sucker out of his, just so we can can meet for a real kiss.
I sigh, relaxing into it, lifting a hand to his shoulder.
There's no intent in the kiss other than to connect us, mouths dragging together, lazy in their movement. I nip at Clay's lip and he smiles, but doesn't nip back, just kisses me softer, slower. We're kissing like we'll never get the chance to kiss again, savoring every little bit.
We're interrupted by Clay's phone dinging, and a car pulling up. Our Uber. As we break apart, He winks, popping his sucker back in his mouth. I part my lips, holding my mouth open, and he puts my sucker in for me, too, shaking his head.
As I wrap my lips around it, swirling it with my tongue, I notice it's strawberry.