#verydisastrous

on the floor in the kitchen, alan feels like he can’t breathe. as he struggles to get onto his knees from his stomach, his hand slides against the tile in his own blood. it falls from his nose and his mouth and into his eyes and before he can move, jax has ahold of him again. stronger than what alan remembers. faster, too. alan sucks in a sharp breath as jax grasps his shirt collar and hauls him around.

alan’s abilities kicked in about twenty minutes ago. he hasn’t felt the consequences of jax’s fists -- for better or for worse.

jax holds him up from the floor like he’s a rag doll. in his free hand is a switchblade, and he brings it up over his head like he might drive it into alan’s cheek. “last chance,” jax warns, the handle of the knife tight in his fist.

with his lips coated in the blood from his wounds, alan manages. “ -- i wouldn’t do that if i were you.” 

surprised a little, jax huffs out a laugh. “and why the hell not?”

that’s when it happens. right on time. the arrow punctures through jax’s shoulder from behind and the knife and alan are dropped to the floor. it didn’t go in through his heart -- you make everything something to hit with.in from the back hallway, barney slams the cutting board alan had been using for dinner against jax’s skull. alan finds a grip on the floor and crawls away from them, the space hardly enough for a fight, let alone a body. getagun, getagun, getagun --

but by the time he fumbles into his living room for one, straining to reach the drawer from his place on the floor, barney is there to hoist him up. alan can’t tell if the blood on his clothes is his own or jax’s or barney’s, the extent of his injuries masked by his powers.

“call clint---” he insists as barney nearly drags him out the door of his apartment. “call clint.”