Spill [Closed]

God damn son of a bitch.

The doctor frantically slammed open the door to the employee restroom, throwing off his open lab coat is a hiss of rage and pain. He peeled his rubber gloves off of his fingers and tossed them aside. Not a single fuck was given as to where or when they landed. His digits danced along the buttons to his shirt beneath the coat, yanking it from the confines of his pants to let it join the pile of clothes he was accumulating upon the floor. Rushing to the sinks, he turned on the cold water and began to splash himself with it; from his face, down his chest.

All the while, a steady string of curses were playing from his lips. Dripping with the same acidic formula that now burned his skin. He grit his teeth, his longer hair hanging in wet tendrils as goose bumps covered his naked upper body. He was shaking, from the looks of his fingers, sliding slowly over his reddened skin. It looked like he was able to chill the burns before they blistered. Mori exhaled through parted lips, visibly shaking as he pressed another handful of water to his chest, feeling it drip down his stomach and soak into his pants.

Good job, chemist.

Thank god his shift was almost over. Raphael rubbed his temples as his shoes clicked and echoed through the hallway, mimicking the the pounding he felt in his brain. Aspirin and tea were foreseen in his immediate future.

An earful of colorful language caught his attention first and he made an unsavory face when noting its origin in the restrooms. What the hell was going on in there and did he even want to become involved? Raphael took another step past, but in the end couldn't win against his own conscience.

As if someone were turning up the volume on the TV, so did the volume of Mori's language increase the moment the other male pushed the door open. Whatever Raphael thought he might find in here, this was not it and to be honest, given Mori's half nakedness, his first thought was that the man had a bad batch of K2 or some other synthetic that could cause psychosis. The large man rushed forward with the intent to subdue but when he caught the angry red heat that scattered over Mori's skin he relented.

"What the..." He trailed off while hurrying to remove his lab coat. Gripping it like a blanket, the Native man squared his jaw and took a deep breath through his nostrils, resigning himself to the obvious. "You're going to have to bare with me here."

Casting the coat like a fishing net, Raphael hooked it around the doctors shoulders and held it there. He knew damn well that touching this man was a cardinal sin, but there was nothing else he could do in this situation. This was likely to be unpleasant for the both of them.

Of course Mori didn't hear anyone coming. He was way too focused on himself and getting the chemicals off of his skin. He did somewhat care as to who was inside of that room with him, but as long as it wasn't a supervisor, they couldn't say or do anything to him.

Those two words and the reflection of the tall Native within the mirror did however, reach the doctor's senses. Gritting his teeth, Mori glared at the other through the glass. "Don't." It was a warning.

Of course when the other instead threw clothing on top of Mori's scalding skin and pressed down on it, the doctor practically wailed. Moving as fast as he could physically endure, the lithe doctor reached out and shoved the darker male as hard as he could, trying to tear off the coat in the process. "Get the fuck off of me!" He spat his words out. It was clear he was in pain with the tone of his voice. "What are you trying to do?!" It did occur to him that the other was trying to help, but he should have assessed the situation first, before pressing fingers into burns.

The doctor stared back at Raphael, breathing heavily, and successfully half-naked again. Unless of course, he failed.

Mori's shove was enough to push him back for a moment, however Raphael's large hand moved to grip both of the other man's wrists, wrapping the coat around him again with his free hand. "Stop. Moving." The voice that escaped him this time was almost foreign. Stern, assertive and authoritative. It was a tone he didn't use often and although he usually intimidated others he rarely ever enforced it like he was doing now. His shoulders squared, he stood tall over the other. "It will hurt for a moment, but the pressure will help. The burn is chemical, yes?"

Keeping his grip upon the other, he pulled him towards the door. "There are employee showers at the other end of the hall. That needs to be flushed for at least 15 minutes," He spoke clear and matter-of-factly, blatantly making eye contact with the doctor. "I'm going to let go. Are you going to stay calm?"

Raphael searched Mori's face. Burns were problematic. There wasn't much you could do for them other than stop the smoldering, sterilize them with bandages and bite through the pain of the aftermath. He knew it had to hurt and that brought sympathy to the forefront, waiting just in line after a righteous fury.

The doctor didn't hesitate to hide the growl that slipped from deep within this throat when both of his wrists were grabbed. Where were his drugs when he really needed them?

Mori managed to get out two choice words, "Fuck you." when the Native told him to stop moving. This wasn't the Asian's first merry go round. He knew what worked when he was burned, and what didn't. He glared up at the much taller individual and peered. "The pressure fucking hurts like hell." He scoffed and paused for a moment, looking down at the state of the burn over his chest. "No." He smirked, even through the pain. "Coffee."

As he was so daintily man-handled towards the door, he cursed along the way, hating that this underling was toting him around, holding his hands, and trying to tell him what was what. To his statement, the doctor arched his brows. "Since when?" He did not remember showers, else he would have gone there instead. He glanced down the hall and then back to Raphael. "It's not that severe." He looked down at himself once again and knew that shit wasn't true. But how could he explain a chemical burn?

He didn't want anyone knowing anything about him. He wasn't here to make friends.

While his expression fell flat, his grip never faltered. If Mori couldn't confirm his intentions, Raphael wasn't going to comply. The last thing he needed was to risk further injury dancing around with a grown man that should know better then to lie. It was obvious from the Native's face he wasn't buying the coffee myth, especially not when the Asian doctor's clean white coat had been casually tossed upon the floor devoid of such a spill.

The showers Raphael could attest to, for he'd been using them often enough after bending the rules in his favor. He supposed there was some collateral there even if Mori knew about his situation, but he hadn't really been thinking about giving himself away when he mentioned it. He'd simply reacted the way he would have regardless of who had been in the present circumstances. Unlike some people, Raphael wasn't a dick; even towards those who were unceasingly dick-like to him.

Pulling the shorter man's wrists up towards his chin, Raphael assessed the burn once more, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Don't lie," he clipped back at him, electively neglecting to answer or respond to any of Mori's statements except for the last. "One more time, are you going to remain calm if I let go? I'll take you to the showers and leave you to your own devices if that's what you want, but I'll force you there if that's what's necessary."

Mori was going to rage. It was just a matter of when.

The doctor didn't budge when he noted that Raphael didn't buy his story. He was sticking to it. A large part of his job depended on it. Luckily if it was word against word, the doctor had been here longer, so hopefully they would take his. When Mori's hands were lifted up, he tried to jerk them away. He did not like being put on display.

Just because he was a smaller man doesn't mean that he couldn't do damage. "Let go of me." He spoke quite clearly, his words dripping with hidden threats.

The doctor looked up at the other, narrowing his eyes as he ceased tugging away. He couldn't tell him what to do. He'd lie if he damn well pleased. "Or what, mother?" When he was then threatened right back about being dragged to the showers, his hackles went up.

"I dare you to try it." He would make him regret sticking his nose into his business one way or another.

Oh, for fuck's sake, the thought bounced off the walls of his skull. How does a doctor get by with such non-existent people skills? The tall, broad Native wasn't one to roll his eyes, but had he been another man he certainly would have. Most likely would have cussed aloud, given up and stalked away as well. But since he was who he was, the muscles of his jaw worked and worried while his coyote tried his patience. Unfortunately for the doctor, Raphael was a very patient man.

Mori's mother comment was rich, considering his child-like tantrum. Perhaps the burns really weren't that severe, as Mori said, given his reluctance for help and continual string of threats. Still, Raphael would be damned if he let this go to find out it was worse and he hadn't done all that he could. His conscience wouldn't allow it; his very being wouldn't allow it. Besides, the evasive coyote was known for his temper, his difficulty, his maliciousness, and Raphael had entered this confrontation quite aware of his chances at being bit.

Honey colored eyes scoured the hallway and when he found it proficiently empty he continued in his struggle to take Mori down to the showers. Raphael had never met a more stubborn man and although his vision had been of the coyote he was beginning to think he might be part jackass as well. "The longer you struggle the worse it will become. I don't understand why you can't even pretend to be civil?"

The Native had to readjust his grip several times in the process. Perhaps Mori was also part fish; slippery little bastard.

That hallway wouldn’t be empty for very long.

A door swung open as fancy dress shoes stepped out into the long white hallway, letting the office close behind him with a quiet click. Murata adjusted the suit lapels upon his torso before gathering up his small notebook scrawled with writing here and there, patient notes and the like, turning to head-…

What was this? Brows slowly crept upwards, mis-matched hues taking in the display before him. Doctor Gives Light had Doctor Mori by the wrists, pulling a squirming, wriggling… half naked body out of the bathrooms. Well well well. If that didn’t scream suspicious and unnecessarily sexual.

Kirito had yet to meet the Native man himself since his transfer, but regardless, the surgeon just awkwardly cleared his throat, clutching his book to his chest in gloved hands.

“… problem?”

He barely got by, to be honest. It was a miracle he got this job, but he was a genius when it came to his numbers and resume. And as it so happened, this hospital gave less of a shit than it should have.

Raphael was really about to see child-like. He was also about to see what 'bitten' looked like. When the taller man ceased to give up is pushing the doctor down the hallway towards the showers, it was enough for Mori to be fed up. He had warned him after all.

If he could, Mori stretched his foot back and gave the taller a swift and firm drag of his heel into the front of his shin, hopefully causing for some serious pain. "You should have listened to my warning." He growled out and tried to squirm away. But he didn't take off. Instead, he squared his shoulders and looked towards the Native, a fire burning behind those narrow eyes.

"I don't know why you cannot leave well enough alone. I never asked for any attention!" He snipped back with more emotion that he thought he would give, running his own long fingers over the straining, burned flesh of his stomach. That hurt.

It was right about then that he heard a voice behind him, causing the Asian to whip around quite quickly, only to look that familiar surgeon right in the two-toned eyes.

Oh super.

A sharp hiss passed his lips as Mori escaped him, the corded muscles of his body hardening while an intense burn ripped through his body. The sickening pain settled in his gut, causing him to bend in the middle and scowl. Hidden under his slacks, skin frayed and pulled; the result of the doctor's tantrum coming to a head. Raphael let out a ragged breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

The Native grimaced further as Mori scolded him, favoring his newly acquired injury. His mouth opened to reply but shut quickly at the sound of a third party. This situation seemed to take a turn from difficult to downright impossible. Pushing his hair from his face, he turned to address the other with a stoic expression that lacked any form of explanation for the scene that was playing out.

Raphael found an impeccably dressed man who exhumed authority. He was a bit on the shorter side in stature but what he lacked physically seemed to be made up in presence. Ah, This must be the much talked about transfer. Although never participating nor repeating, Raphael did listen quietly to the gossip that rolled through the halls on a daily basis. The more informed he was, the better; even if it was mostly untrue.

Lifting his chin a bit, he stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. His eyes flicked to Mori for a moment, half naked and miserable in the hallway.

"No problem, Dr. Morata... was it?" Raphael mispronounced the name, honey eyes searched for the doctor's name badge but found it quite obstructed by the clipboard in his hands and thus left his words hanging just as they were.

This was certainly an interesting situation indeed that he had stumbled upon. If one didn’t know any better, it almost seemed like... rape. But of course, that wouldn’t happen here in Acropolis, now would it? More specifically, it wouldn’t happen between staff either.

Right?

Kirito’s gaze met Mori’s and then slowly meandered over towards Light’s, less than amused at the fact that he wasn’t given any sort of an explanation right away. No, instead Haru was silent and Raphael only assured him that there was no issue. Could have fooled him.

“Murata.” He corrected flatly, letting his eyes hover back over towards the squirming, half nude doctor instead as a slow brow crept higher and disappeared behind shaggy, longer bangs. So if there was no problem, what was he to assume was going on in this hallway? Hissing, yelling, bickering, kicking, squirming, the lack of clothing and the restraining, dragging…

Pursing thin lips, Kirito flipped open the notes in his hand again and feigned looking through them before speaking out once more. “Then I suppose I missed have missed the memo about the pool party…”
Was that a crack at humor? If it was, Kirito made no move to even show a tiny hint of a smirk. Stepping forward he closed the notebook again, offering a gloved hand.

"I don't believe we've met."

This couldn't possibly get any better. There was no way it could. Mori's brain rapidly began firing off ideas and he processed them just as quickly. He could easily throw Raphael right under the proverbial bus that was Murata right now, but surprisingly he refrained.

For now.

Straightening up his posture, Mori gave the surgeon a small, but proper bow. He thought for a moment to himself. "You'll have to excuse me. I had a run-in with my coffee just a bit ago," He gestured to his reddened chest. "I was taking care of it in the staff restroom, but he thought to get me further assistance." Mori didn't hesitate to glare at the Native in that moment.

No one made this doctor look like a fool and walked away without repercussions.

"I think he learned not to do that in the future." Mori looked back at Murata and inclined his head, turning to walk back to the staff bathroom, grabbing his burned shirt and discarded lab coat.

He didn't care what happened next in that hallway, he just wanted out. That surgeon had a reputation that Haru really wanted to partner up with, but that fucking Raphael may have just ruined it for him. He seethed to himself, storming out of that restroom and making a beeline for his office around the corner. Another slam of a door indicated that he was back 'home'.

If Mori's disappearing act bothered him, it surely didn't show. In fact, he was all business as he turned back to the new surgeon and met his hand with a strong, confident grip. "Dr. Raphael Gives Light," he introduced himself, "I'm currently in my final year of residency in psychology." The burn in his leg continued to throb in time with his heartbeat causing him to shift his weight often. The wound felt wet and he prayed it wasn't bad enough to soak through his pant leg.

Truth be told, he was bothered by Mori's disappearing act. What a stubborn and exasperating man, yet, his desire to get inside that mans head seemed to be growing daily. There really was something that completely fascinated him about the doctor's behavior and thought patterns, more so than any patient he'd worked with. Raphael frowned, remembering that Mori had neglected to flush out that burn in his haste to retreat. Coffee his ass. Why did Mori have such a hard time telling him the truth? Raphael might respect authority but he certainly paid it no mind in most matters. He wasn't a tattletale and had no desire to find trouble with any of his colleagues.

"A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Murata. I've heard you run an efficient operation and I look forward to working with you," Raphael wasn't covering up the events that had just transpired, he just felt no need to bring them up. As far as he was concerned there was nothing that needed defending or explained any further, for what the incident might have looked like to an outsider simply didn't cross his mind. Even if his actions had been sexually motivated, his only source of shame would have been the location in which it transpired.

H, finally, there were some meaningful words. Granted they were entirely coated in a good heaping of what almost seemed like ass-kissing, but why would Kirito complain about that? That was exactly how it should have been.

The man’s good eye followed Mori as he bowed forward and explained about a spill of coffee. Interesting really, a grown man couldn’t handle such an innocent little spill on his own? Kirito’s gaze remained incredulous, flicking between the pair when Mori offered that glare of his own.
Interesting.

When the other doctor bowed out without so much as another word Kirito simply let him go, having already met the man previously anyway. Besides, now he had some laundry to do. Yes? So much for that party.
Instead Kirito’s own grip was firm, even from behind dressed hands. He was a man of high position and power after all, needed a good steady handshake. That tended to be the first thing people take form meeting someone new. And, when facing a man much taller and physically bigger than he was anyway, he had to meet Raph’s own grip with something.

Slam. The faintest of smirks pulled across thin, pale lips.

Ah, so Gives Light was a Psychologist. Kirito nodded. “Same.” He mimicked the formalities simplified as he mentally stored the man’s name and position aside, pulling his hand back and resumed cradling his clipboard against his chest. Truthfully Kirito didn’t even care to ask just what all of that was about; it more or less just happened to be on his way down the hallway. “I will let you… get back to work,” the Asian doctor mentioned with a soft cant of his head in the general direction where Mori had disappeared off to, shifting his weight from one dress shoe to the other. “Hopefully I will have the pleasure of working with you in the near future.”

It seemed most of these patients needed mental more than physical help anyway, go figure. He’d have to make himself very familiar with that side of the staff.
Offering a polite tip of his own head that sent darker strands into his face the man walked off, only the soft clicks of his heels following him down the hallway as he carried on. Busy busy man.

Mori hoped that the wound he left Raphael would scar. Or at least hurt for a bit. Maybe then he'd mind his own business.

The doctor was rather surprised that the Native didn't say anything to his statement, but he was glad. Mori hated chit-chat, so of course he was quick to leave. As soon as that door slammed behind him, the Asian threw his clothes into one of the closest walls and grit his teeth. Storming towards his desk, he growled in frustration, running the length of his arm against the wood and sending all of his belongings and mess onto the floor.

He wouldn't look like a fool. He couldn't. The only thing he had that stood out was his intelligence, and now one more person thought less of him.

His fist slammed into the top of the desk.

He should have locked his office door.

Raphael stood self-controlled in the hallway, watching until Dr. Murata disappeared out of site. Suddenly in a rare moment, he relaxed, hunching his shoulders and rolling his head back to gaze upon the ceiling above. That was a bit close for comfort. Yet, Raphael wasn't thinking about himself. As far as he was concerned he had done nothing wrong-- no, he was more relieved by the fact that Murata seemed to not notice the incursion Mori dished out to him.

The Native took a deep breath and allowed himself a knee, rolling the bottom of his trousers up to inspect the damage. Yes, there was blood, but it wasn't as bad as it felt, even though the skin had shredded during the agonizing rub. He tsked to himself, nothing some antiseptic and an ace bandage couldn't fix. Mori, on the other hand, would have some healing of his own to do.

Mori.

Why couldn't he leave well enough alone? Was it really just the coyote tricking him into making an ass out of himself time and time again? But maybe he figured he could help the doctor-- but help him what? The man seemed to be doing perfectly fine on his own and by all accounts preferred it that way. So what exactly was Raphael's excuse?

Honey colored eyes blinked and he found himself at Mori's door. Fuck, was he now even moving towards him unaware? The sounds coming from the other side were a bit alarming. Go back to your own office, he told himself. Busy yourself with work. It was a bad idea, but Raphael had to know the doctor was alright, and so he knocked quietly.

Really? A knock? That was certainly not the first thing he was expecting at the moment. And certainly the last thing he wanted.

A deathly gaze was slowly shot over his shoulder at the offending sound, as his body hunched forward over that desk. He briefly gave a moment to stare at the mess on the ground, before snapping back. "What?" It had to be one of them. He left his statement clear and to the point. He could have been worse, but what if it was his superior?

He kept his eyes narrowed, slowly closing and opening his fists. He needed a hit of something, that was for sure. He could wait though, to see what the intrusion was. Or whom.

One by one, his feet stepped towards the door, white-knuckling the door handle and debating whether or not to open it.

Ugh.

He abruptly pulled the door open and cursed not having a peephole the moment he was met with the man's dark skin. Immediately, he tried to slam it back on him.

In all honesty, Raphael was indeed surprised when Mori opened the door. His lips made a motion and his lungs inhaled a breath just before the same door slammed shut. That was more like it. The Native inclined his head and knocked again.

"Dr. Mori?" Persistence was a virtue as far as he was concerned and a virtue that he was remarkably good at. It was this same determination that made him excel at his job and yet induce awkwardness in social settings. Surely, Mori was beginning to understand this as well, even if it was to his dismay.

He wasn't exactly expecting an answer, either in the form of an open door or an open mouth because dealing with the doctor was a lot like dealing with a real coyote. Unpredictable, wild and feral, an animal that does what it wants, when it wants. You could threaten it, attempt to trap it or coax it with sweetness but nothing was guaranteed to tame it.

Raphael had plenty of reasons with which to dislike Mori. He'd been drugged, threatened, belittled and even physically wounded and yet his persistence was still unwavering. Those that didn't know the Native well enough might argue that it was less force of will and more sheer stupidity that kept him coming back. Maybe he was just a glutton for punishment or ignorant of boundaries. Whatever it was or wasn't, the real truth lied in the fact that he honestly cared. His kindness towards all living things still very much intact despite adversity. Even towards feral coyotes.

Raphael pursed his lips and gently rapped the door a third time.

Mori was going to end up having to conceal a murder if Raphael kept this up.

He couldn't believe his ears when he heard that knock again. "Fuck!" He had almost managed a single step away, before whirling around again. "What could you possibly want?!"

Now he was going to get rude. As if he wasn't before. Stomping towards his desk, he yanked open the drawer and watched it dump onto the ground as he reached through his belongings for a familiar syringe. He stomped back to the door, still surprisingly shirtless.

He couldn't back down.

Grabbing that door handle, he threw the door open and took a step towards the much, much larger man. "Why?!" He openly held that syringe as he threw his arms up in the air. His tone was certainly not the most friendly. "I don't know if maybe I'm not being clear enough, but let me make it crystal." He had fire in his eyes. "I don't like you. I don't like anyone. I don't like that you find me interesting. I'm not looking for friends and I don't need help." He was clear and to the point. Of course, he had to be rude. "Any questions?" He snapped the last two words out, letting his arms finally fall to his side.

Somehow he knew when that door flew open it wouldn't be pleasant. With Mori that was pretty much to be expected. He didn't flinch, however, but he did turn his face a bit to the left when the lights glinted off the syringe like an omen. His bear paw-like hands lifted past his elbows in a surrendering posture. If not for the keen, precise and constant eye contact, his entire body would have screamed submissive. But there was something in that honey colored gaze that wouldn't allow him to be rolled over with his tail between his legs.

He listened to Mori, took in his words and even gave a subtle nod of understanding. That was all good and dandy; he wasn't expecting Mori's feelings to change, he didn't even mind that he was disliked. But it wouldn't displace his gentle nature though.

His leg ached and stung something terrible and he'd need to pay it some attention soon, yet when Mori's last two words pierced his ears the only thing that came to mind was the same question Mori asked moments earlier.

"Why?" The word squeezed past his lips before his brain had the chance to mull it over.

If Mori didn't seem to hate him so much, he would have had to give Raphael some credit. He had tough skin.

The doctor peered at the taller male as he raised his hands up on defense. He was wiser than originally granted. To the nod of his head, the doctor almost sighed in relief. Almost. When that single word hit his ears, he almost stabbed the taller right then.

A part of Mori wanted to answer him in as many rude and horrible ways as possible. The other part of him really didn't want to talk to Raphael any more. He went with the smarter, second half of his brain.

"I don't have to explain a damn thing to you." He took another step forward, almost as if he was trying to intimidate the other male. "Now if you would kindly fuck off and leave me alone." Mori turned around then, closing the gap between himself and his door frame. The last thing he wanted was for the other to somehow make it into his office and find all of his experimentation.

Mori had little to worry about, for unlike personal boundaries, Raphael would only enter if invited. Which, by his assumption, would likely happen never.

The large Native couldn't help his curiosity. Human beings by nature were social creatures and those that were not likely suffered from a traumatic event or a chemical imbalance. Raphael wondered which was lurking on Mori's horizon.

He would have chalked it all up to a very bad first impression, but Mori was always alone. Always elusive. So of course he didn't feel personally victimized by Mori's anger and venom if the same distaste was held for all people. Not to mention Raphael was quite the expert on pushing buttons and limits.

Even now, there was a very strong pull to push him further. He was well aware of the syringe in Mori's possession and therefore alert and confident he could displace an outburst but he decided to pull back for now.

"I understand," He stated. Although Mori's back was turned, Raphael's gaze softened just a bit before he added, "Please take care of yourself, Dr. Mori."

Of course he was always alone. Mori thrived to be left to his own resources and his mind. He created masterpieces that way. Not to mention he failed to have any close friends for his entire life, so that sort of thing simply stuck with a person. That was not about to change.

And then there was the fact that Raphael struck a horrible nerve within Mori. After all, the first thing he did was tear him out of the break room by brute force.

"Do you? I sure hope so." He snapped back at the male and responded to his last statement with a sudden, abrasive slam of his door in his face. Swiftly followed by several locks.

Pivoting on a heel, he stormed towards his mess and proceeded to simultaneously tantrum and clean until it was all back to the haphazard mess that it once was.