Title: Too attached
Summary: Kent cleans Chandler's face up after the fight
Disclaimer: Not mine…or are they? No. Really. They're not!
Note: takes place after the scene where Chandler and miles come back to Buchan's after the fight, but before the scene where they both go to see Cazenove.
Kent sighed heavily as he took the small green box out of the bathroom cupboard and placed it down, balancing on the side of the sink. He then unzipped it and began riffling through the contents, pulling out several cotton buds and antiseptic.
Turning to Chandler, who was stood, still smiling slightly after his moral victory, he observed the injuries marring his bosses usually flawless face.
A bloody nose, two cuts on the bottom lip, scraping in places and some bruising on the chin and around the eyes. Quite frankly Chandler looked a mess, but Kent still couldn't bring himself to think that the man looked in any way less attractive than he normally did.
"If you sit down sir, this'll be easier." He commented evenly, nodding his head slightly in the direction of the toilet that was behind Chandler.
The dishevelled man glanced over his shoulder before walking backwards a few steps and sitting down on the toilet lid.
Kent pressed the cotton bud over the lid of the antiseptic and tipped the bottle upside down, feeling the bud becoming damp as the liquid soaked through.
He then moved towards Chandler with a strong determination, his eyes fixed on only the injuries, not allowing them to move elsewhere over the other man's face before he lent down and firmly pressed the cotton bud to the slowly bleeding lip.
Chandler let out a hiss of pain, his automatic reaction being to move away from the source of the sting, jerking his head back. Not deterred, Kent gently placed his fingers on the side of Chandler's neck, just where his hair began and began to swipe the bud back and forth, wiping away the blood.
"Why did you fight him?" After a moments silence.
"Because we needed his DNA." came the curt reply, the older man talking while trying not to move his lips too much and make Kent's job more difficult.
Kent sighed once again, before speaking, choosing his words carefully so as trying not to sound rude. "You could've got DNA another way." Brown eyes met bruised blue ones, the cotton bud paused in mid-air. "Another, less…dangerous way."
Chandler's eyes held Kent's.
"It was the only option I could see in the limited time we have. And it worked, we got the DNA." Chandler reasoned, hissing in pain again the second the antiseptic cotton bud was put back to work on his lip.
Kent continued his job in silence for the next few minutes, gently pushing Chandlers chin from side to side, disinfecting and cleaning the multiple cuts, scrapes and bruises. He turned away momentarily to drop the bloody cotton bud into the sink and pick up a new one, following the same procedure as before, covering the bud in antiseptic.
The young man was by no means a medical expert, of course he'd done the compulsory First Aid courses when he got this job, and he had common sense when it came to injuries, but he'd have defiantly preferred the DI to have gone to a real doctor and not settled for his cack-handed first aid.
When he returned to the sitting down Chandler he began to clean the bloody nose that had obviously bared the brunt of several hard punches. The DI watched him the whole time.
"Despite these cuts and bruises of yours, I kind of wish I'd been there to see you and Jimmy fight. I bet it was therapeutic." Kent couldn't contain the tiny smile that emerged with that statement. It was true, he hated the fact that his boss had been injured, but he couldn't deny the sick feeling of satisfaction he'd felt when Miles had told him that one of Chandler's punches had made the gangster bleed.
"He got some of what he deserved for all of the hurt he's caused our team." Chandler's voice held a slight tint of anger. "All the hurt he's caused McCormack and his family. How much hurt he caused you."
Kent paused for a second to look peculiarly at the other man. When no more words seemed to be forthcoming he shrugged and went back to his job.
"He's hurt a lot of people." came the blasé reply .
"That may be, but most of the other people he's hurt are not part of my team." He paused. "I'm not responsible for or care about them in the same way."
Kent chuckled. "Careful sir, you are beginning to sound like you're getting attached to us."
Chandler's serious face softened but his eyes still remained fixed on Kent.
"Maybe I am. Maybe a little too much." The young man once again looked up into the face of his DI, puzzled at the weight that Chandler seemed to be putting into his words.
The two men continued to stare at each other, hardly moving, Kent's hand still hovering in mid air, holding the bloody cotton bud. Time seemed to stop while their eyes were connected, the only movement was their chests slowly rising up and falling and their eyes caressing the other's form.
The young man's heart jumped slightly when he felt Chandler's hand come up and wrap around his fingers, the other's warmth seeping into his skin. They both moved in simultaneously, Kent leaning downward towards Chandler who, lifting his chin, gently pulled on Kent's still captured hand, drawing him closer.
It felt like it took a lifetime for the two men to lean in, but after a seconds hesitation from Kent their lips met. The younger man's eyes slipped closed and his heart pounded against the inside of his ribcage as he felt Chandler press forwards. Neither man moved, not wanting to disrupt the moment. The kiss was tentative and light, their lips barely touching, but still Kent could scarcely form a coherent thought. After a moment he pulled away slightly, only a couple of inches and opened his eyes to look at Chandler, gauging his reaction.
The DI opened his own eyes and looked at Kent with no visible regret in his face, just the stirrings of something that Kent had never seen cross his DI's expressions before - want. This unnerved the DC slightly as Chandler was not a person who showed emotions easily. Kent swallowed nervously, watching as Chandler's eyes flickered over his form. He then felt the DI's other hand slide up and around his neck, threading through the dark curls at the back of his head and pull him into another kiss. Kent didn't quite know what to do with the hand that wasn't held in Chandler's, so he cautiously placed it on the other man's chest, the tips of three of his fingers touching the warm, exposed skin from where a few buttons on Chandler's shirt were open.
Kent had noticed that Chandler didn't smell like he usually did of aftershave and deodorant, now that scent had dampened and instead he smelled lightly of sweat from the fight. It wasn't strong nor unpleasant though and Kent found that the smell made him want the DI even more, the stimulation of this sense tapping into the most bases of needs.
Chandler pulled Kent even closer, moving him so that he stood in between the DI's legs, which made it difficult as Kent still had to lean down, so Chandler tilted his head back further, allowing the young man to be more comfortable.
Kent could feel the rough cuts on Chandler's lips under his own and even could taste a slight hint of metallic blood, but it didn't disgust him like it should. Instead he grew more confident, slipping his hand fully inside of the DI's shirt, his palm travelling over the smooth hairless skin as he breathlessly opened his mouth, deepening their kiss and swiping his tongue over it's partners.
Despite his newfound confidence Kent still startled slightly when Chandler released his captured hand and instead gripped the young man's slim hip tightly before moving to the buttons of his dark blue cardigan. His lower palm inadvertently brushed the bulge in Kent's jeans, his heart jolting when that drew a low guttural moan from the young man's lips.
"Joe? Kent? Are you okay in there, I've made tea if you want one." Came Buchan's cheerful voice through the bathroom door, accompanied by three precise knocks.
Kent gasped and pulled guiltily away from Chandler, standing up straight and yanking his hand from the other man's shirt. He even took two full steps away from the DI for good measure.
Chandler licked his lips, looking up at Kent for a second before frowning at the door.
"Yeah Ed, we're ok. We'll be out in a minute." Although he had tried to calm it his voice still came out breathless and strained, evidence of their activities.
"What about that Tea?"
Chandler sighed. "Uh, Yeah, we'll both have one. Kent has two sugars."
"It'll be ready in a jiffy."
Both men stayed silent. The air charged and thick with atmosphere.
Kent kept his eyes downcast, his chest rising and falling much faster than normal as he leant backwards on the rim of the sink, his fingers worrying the cotton bud he still held. Chandler observed the kid for a moment, his hair was messier than it had been, his lips were redder than normal and his usually pale white cheeks held a gentle flush of color.
"I'm sorry!" The DC turned to Chandler, his eyes wide and remorseful, not unlike those of a rabbit caught in headlights, then slowly began to back out of the room towards the door. "I'm really sorry sir."
"Kent wait!" Chandler called, standing up abruptly and immediately wincing as the multiple bruises on his torso made themselves known.
The young man was already out the door. The DI slowly breathed through his mouth, staying deadly still until the pain passed. When he looked up he found the door half open, Buchan's landing empty, no sign of Kent in sight.
Hearing the voices downstairs he knew that there would be little or no chance to speak to Kent in the near future with them all living in such close proximity to each other for the time being. He bend down gingerly and picked up the damp cotton bud that the young man had dropped when he'd fled, then leaning heavily on the sink he began to resignedly pack away the first aid kit, unconsciously reversing Kent's own previous actions as the cuts on his face and body stung and throbbed.
"Ah Joe. The tea's downstairs." Buchan walked into the bathroom, his trademark smile still plastered on his face. "Where's young Kent?" He asked, frowning slightly and looking around as if expecting to see the kid hiding behind the door.
Chandler silently looked at the ripperologist, before he clenched both his jaw and fists and walked out of the room, brushing past the confused Buchan and self consciously starting to fasten the buttons of his shirt.