Their last job had gone south. Badly if Lemon was honest, after all, Tangerine had taken a bullet to the side in the crossfire. Lemon had of course shot the damn asshole who did this, but it still had filled him with an overwhelming fear as he saw his brother go down like this, blood staining his shirt. Lemon sighed. At least they were now back in their rusty, old safe house, which stood a few miles away from the city.
Away from the people and their prying eyes. God, how he hated Spain. The people, the heat, the jobs they got there. It already was their third job in Spain if Lemon remembers correctly and although all of their jobs here had been successful till now, they had always ended badly for them. Better say, for his little brother.
Lemon glanced at the still form of Tangerine, who still lay on the old, worn leather couch in the small living room. He had fallen asleep, shortly after Lemon had gotten the bullet out of his side and had stitched the wound shut.
Lemon was glad that his little brother finally was able to get some rest, after all, he literally had just performed a makeshift surgery on him. No wonder he was exhausted as hell.
The older brother sighed again, settling back into the arm chair across from the couch. He still vividly remembered their first two jobs here in Spain. During their first one, he and Tangerine where still at he start of their career, had just started doing what they did for a living. This mission was successful of course, like countless others, but it still ended with Tangerine having a knife between his ribs.
At that time, Lemon had stitched him up too, just like he did during their second mission here, as his younger brother fell off a rooftop. Bloody dumb stunt that was. He had told Tangerine before hand that chasing a whole cartel on a bunch of roof tops that were under the risk of collapsing any minute wasn’t a good idea. But he of course he didn’t listen.
Lemon himself hadn’t got much more than a scratch during those missions. It made sense, after all, he never bled. He also was physically unable to die. At least Lemon thought so. If he would be able to die, he would have been dead before even reaching his twenties. Sometimes he wondered if he only was unable to die, because Tangerine usually almost did.
Lemon brushed a hand over his face, feeling as exhausted as his little brother looked. Tangerine had always been like this, even when they were still kids. He still remembered when he was 10 years old, always getting picked on by some older kids for still liking Thomas and friends and other “childish” cartoons. They did always wait after school ended to make fun of him and to harass him the entire way to his home. This happened almost daily to Lemon at that time.
Well, at least until Tangerine hid in a tree and threw rocks at the older kids with his slingshot. He always had a really good aim. Maybe a bit too good, at least at that time: One of the rocks hit one of the kids square in the eye. Not that the bastard didn’t deserve it, he definitely did, but his mum filed a complaint for harassment.
Lemon cringed slightly at the memory of how mad his foster parents had been at them. They had yelled at Tangerine for a solid 10 minutes, while Lemon waited in their room, feeling slight apprehension for his younger brother. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of his parents anger.
But as Tangerine eventually had returned to their shared room with this big grin on his face, proudly exclaiming that he didn’t regret at all shooting stones at Lemons bullies and that he would do it again, Lemon knew that he meant it and that this wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened.
As Lemon thought back to all the times that Tangerine had put himself into harms way to protect him, he knew that he had been right with his suspicion all those years ago. Tangerine stirred slightly in his sleep, muttering something incoherent that Lemon couldn’t understand. Lemon quickly got up and kneeled down beside the couch, gently resting a hand on his little brothers shoulder, to at least somewhat calm him.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here.” He gently brushed his fingers through Tangerines brown hair, carefully avoiding the small wound on the back of his head. Tangerine gradually relaxed under Lemons touch, falling back into a more restful sleep. A small smile found his way onto Lemons lips. This gesture had always calmed Tangerine down, even when they still were children.
Although Tangerine would probably never admit it of course, not back then and definitely not now. Lemon knew that when his little brother would wake again in the morning, he would probably deny himself any sort of comfort again, like always. Lemon sighed, for probably the 100th time this evening. Sometimes he really wanted to tell his brother that he didn’t always have to be the tough one.
But be knew that this conversation probably wouldn’t help and that Tangerine would just continue the way he does now: Getting himself in harms way and letting Lemon stitch him up again. But oh well. This is how it always has been, as far as Lemon can remember. At least in moments like this, as horrible the circ*mstances might be, Lemon could take care of his brother for once.
The small smile from earlier crept onto his lips once more as he adjusted his position next to the couch slightly. If he’s going to spend the night here, than at least he’s trying to make himself comfortable. As the night wore on, Lemon continued watching over knew that everything would work out bloody fine. After all, things always did for Tangerine and even as he felt himself fall asleep, his hand never left his brothers shoulder.
