#1-- Attack on Frost Enterprises

Attack on Frost Enterprises
Part Twelve


Jared had sighed in exasperation as the ice queen made her exit, but otherwise ignored her, turning a page to read the new Calvin and Hobbes strip. He was grateful that she had led them to the forest and had supplied them with the basic first aid essentials, but now here she was, running off when Jared was weak, Creed completely comatose, and with no weapons nearby- it more than pissed the angel off, but he hid it well, figuring that the best kind of Adrienne was an Adrienne with her furries.

The fire crackled merrily at Jared, contrasting heavily with his current mood, it’s warmth and light just reaching the car a few feet away, and during the next hour he got up frequently to check on the feral mutant. As the minutes ticked away into the night Jared noticed, with each check-up, that Creed’s cuts were diminishing in size, depth, and the bits of dirt, metal and such that he hadn’t been able to get out before were now being pushed out of the body. When he wasn’t checking on Creed, however, Jared was either feeding the fire or nursing his own scrapes and bruises; a rib was broken on his right side, and two three-inch long cuts (quite shallow) marred his left cheek, and he could feel a large purple bruise forming just below his shoulder blade where a guard had tried using his rifle as a sword. Needless to say the guard was now as cold as a stone and probably resting in some freezer, which didn’t make the pain any better but it did bring a smile to the young man’s face. And it would have remained there had his stomach not chosen that moment to remind him that, yes, he was quite hungry, and his brain chimed in that, no, there was no food present. He cursed his decision to play the tough guy and watch over the leader before he took care of his own needs, and gently rubbed at his empty stomach. Even alcohol didn't sound too appitizing at the moment...

Jared was just about to relinquish the comics to the withdrawing fire when a noise caught his attention.

-

“Tell me ya got the number of that truck.” Creed crawled out of the back of the small car with effort, still weak from his injuries, but smiling. The kid did good, he could smell the antiseptic and knew Jared had been the one to put it on him, it was pointless, but at least Creed knew where he stood with the boy. A quick look around and he knew where he stood with Adrienne as well. “Where’s the mutt?” he asked as he took a seat next to Jared by the fire popping open his second can of beer.

-

“Ah, back among the living, I see. Falling practically three floors, into the middle of the street, and then promptly getting run over by a paper truck just doesn’t seem to keep the bad guys down anymore.” Jared smiled as relief flooded his system and Creed sat down beside him. He threw the last bit of newspaper into the fire and looked the man up and down, trying to calculate exactly how much longer they had to stay in this damn forest. He hadn’t expected the feral to be up and moving so quickly, so there was no food present, and the cooler was now only ¼ full.

“Miss wolf directed us to these woods after you took out that truck and then told me where to get supplies…” Jared had to give credit where credit was due, and he decided to leave out the fact that she had fallen asleep during her turn to watch over the damaged mutant, figuring it best Creed rested instead of ripping off heads. “She’s visiting family though… But… are you… really okay now?” Jared asked the last bit quietly and focused on the fire again, jabbing at it with a three-foot stick that would be excellent if they had marshmallows.

-

“Stupid mutt.” He muttered watching Jared poke at the fire. “Yeah kid… I’m good. Got any grub?” he asked noting the stitch in his side where a man had sliced into him with a bayonet type gun. The worst of his wounds still ached, but he would live… as if there ever was a question. He guzzled the second beer and popped another can open. “Want one?” he offered, the kid looked bad by the fire light, and instead of starting his third beer, he set it down. Reaching out, he touched the boy’s shoulder, turning him toward the fire so he could see his back. “Fucked ya up pretty good, huh? Why don’t you go lay in the car for a while, take a break, we’ll leave at sunrise.”

-

Jared felt even worse for not grabbing something from the cabin when he was there earlier and was about to offer to fly back when a gentle hand touched his back, and obediently he turned so that the fire warmed his bruises, but when Creed commented on them he lowered his wings back into place; sufficiently hiding the large purple welts from view. Jared turned around again stiffly, missing the warmth of both the fire and the hand on his naked back, and tried to force out a grin. “Nah, it’s nothing. Some fat-fuck just jumped on top of me and thought it’d be fun to try me as a punching bag- little shit head’s stone cold now, though!” His grin widened at the concern in Creed’s voice but he didn’t comment on it, instead opting for his earlier thought. “Want me to swing by a cabin just a mile or two from here and see if they’ve got anything edible? Worse comes to worse I saw more beer on the shelves.”

-

“No… never cared for warm beer anyway.” Creed eyed up the boy, he was beat and hurting, he could smell it. “What I want is for you to go get some rest… and that isn’t a request.” If he had to pull rank, he would, the kid needed it.

-

Wings slumped down from their proud position, following his shoulders, and Jared gave Creed a half-hearted glare. After holding the larger man’s gaze for a moment, he looked away and got to his feet shakily, his muscles screaming for him to just sit still- however, an order was an order. “Yes sir,” Jared mumbled dejectedly and made his way to the car that even he could tell smelled heavily of blood. Crawling across the back seat, the material that had held the warmth of Creed’s own body was now cold against his bare chest and back, and Jared was forced to lay on his stomach because of his wings and the little amount of space. After folding his arms underneath his head, Jared closed his eyes and called out, “Any other commands, master?” Hadn’t he proven himself enough yet to the man, hadn’t he already shown that he could stand whatever creed threw at him?

-

“Yeah…” Creed stood and walked over to mangled youth who now lay in the car. He pulled off the remains of his own shirt, torn and blood stained, a pathetic blanket, but it would have to do. “Close the doors, I’ll be right back.” He didn’t wait for compliance or an affirmative, tossing this shirt on top of Jared, it looked like a tent on the kid’s wings, he turned and stalked into the forest. The bitch had left them stranded and foodless, something Creed would not accept.

Slowly stalking deep into the forest, Creed found his prey, a small grouping of deer that were on their guard. Someone else had been hunting tonight as well, scenting the air Creed found the smell of wolves heavy, oh well, if there were any left around Creed would deal with them as well. He stalked his prey for an unknown amount of time, his still healing wounds slowing him considerably, before taking down a buck by the throat. They would eat good tonight.

-

Jared raised himself up on his elbows and reached for the door to close it as ordered, then curled up underneath the bloody, dirty, and utterly stinky ruined XXXL shirt. Curiosity got the better of his senses and he merely lay there, waiting for Creed to return and hoping the man was well enough to go do… whatever it was he was doing!

However, after ten minutes of waiting and a comfy seat underneath him, Jared found his buzzing mind begin to quiet and then shut off completely as oblivion overcame him, a blessedly dream-free sleep waiting for his worn out consciousness.

-

Creed made his way back to the camp, looking into the car to see Jared out like a light. With a nod he made his way to the fire, reuniting with his open can of beer and setting to the task of skinning and cooking the deer. He would have eaten it as is, but Jared would most likely get sick from it. It was a slow going process, but soon he was finished and the camp filled with the smell of cooked meat. Walking over to the car, he opened one of the doors and shook the sleeping figure lightly. “Jared?”




A/N: A truly touching scene and a very OOC Creed, I know- but give the feral a break! He fell through three stories to smack right into the middle of the road, I’m sure you would be a little “weird” after that too! *grins* And don’t worry, it only gets more OOC here on it- YAY!

~Cheers!