(OxO with Ewen) (Mature) (It's Mature for a reason, folks)

(ooh maybe!)

Cas was wearing his mask, thankfully, but his clothes were torn and bloodied and he was swaying on his feet. He squinted up at Magnus, trembling and shaky. "I…I d-didn't know…where e-else to g-go…" he stammered, taking a shaky step forward and then he was falling, falling, falling, unable to keep his balance anymore.

It had been two weeks since Sketch had last been sighted. Two weeks since his last big match-up against someone. And so for him to turn up at Magnus's home like this? It wasn't something that should be happening. Especially not when the smaller man looked like he was about to die right there on the doorstep, smeared with blood and trembling, pupils blown from drugs and face pale.

This was not the Sketch Magnus had fought before; not a version of the hero anyone had seen. So it begged the question: what had happened? What had happened and where that the only place he could think of to go was the house of his enemy?

"Holy—"

Out of reflex, Magnus grabbed Sketch to keep him from collapsing to the ground as the shorter guy fell against him. It took only a split moment for the shock and absurdity of the situation to register in Magnus's mind. There was no mistaking it; this was definitely the superhero, Sketch. Or at least, his battered remains. Magnus had faced off with him a few times in the past— never anything too brutal, really— but to see him like this now was startling.

What on earth happened to the guy, and why was he here, of all places?

"What— Why are you—" Magnus didn't even finish his thought. He cast a quick, wide-eyed glance in either direction— but there was no one else to be seen. Logic told him that this was probably a setup, but—

Those wounds were far too real.

He pulled Sketch inside, using one arm to hold the guy up to the best of his ability and slamming the door shut with the other. Sketch nearly slipped from his grasp in the process, but Magnus grabbed him by the shirt and hefted him up again. He paused only momentarily before lugging the injured hero into his living room and dropping the near-limp body onto the couch.

"Ey— Can you hear me?" He snapped his fingers in front of Sketch's face a few times. "What happened?"

Cassian flinched when Magnus grabbed him, shaking and trembling even once he was set down on the couch. "I…" His eyes flashed to Magnus, and he bit his lip a little bit. "It's…I…" He stammered, unable to get the words out. He was trembling still, drawing up around himself in a ball. He was bleeding, bruised, his hazel eyes unfocused but afraid. "I'm s-sorry…" He whispered, sniffling and shaking like he was about to cry. And then he did, pressing his hands to his face and starting to cry, shoulders trembling and hitching as he drew in ragged breaths.

This wasn't anything like Magnus would ever have seen from him. This was Sketch, shattered and broken and afraid, crying and alone. Bloodied and beaten and looking so, so small.

((This poor bby is gonna grow on Magnus, I can already tell you that much; idk how long it will take but it will be good))

Magnus froze, a look of pure confusion dominating his expression. This… was kinda trippy. He never expected to have a superhero, beaten to a pulp, sitting on his couch, sobbing his eyes out. Especially not one that Magnus hadn't beat up himself.

It was possibly the most pitiful thing Magnus had ever seen.

A few suppressed memories flashed before his mind's eye, but he shoved them back into the dark recesses of his brain, where they belonged.

"You've been drugged," Magnus observed aloud. When the crying didn't stop, Magnus felt obligated to do something— but what? He wasn't this guy's caretaker. Heck, Magnus was Sketch's enemy, for crying out loud! But Sketch was literally crying out loud, and Magnus was, quite unfortunately, stuck in the awkward position of being the person that the hero had chosen to come to— and the only person close enough by to offer any sort of help.

"Calm down; calm down." The guy was visibly trembling all over like a freezing chihuahua, so Magnus reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. After a couple of seconds, he sat down warily, as opposed to previously towering over the smaller dude. "It's alright." He wasn't sure if I'm not gonna hurt you would be too weird to say or not, so he refrained; but he really wasn't gonna hurt him, because who could justify ever harming anyone in such a pathetic and destroyed condition? There was no victory in that, only pure evil— and Magnus wasn't evil, even if he was what society considered a villain. "Try to relax, man. Breathe."

(:D good)

Cassian flinched and stiffened at the touch, in rather like the manner of an animal that had been beaten and hurt one too many times. Like someone who was more used to being hurt than anything else. "I'm s-s-sorry." he gasped out again, trying to take deep breaths, but he couldn't relax. He couldn't. His breathing was audible, half-wheezing sometimes as he dragged in air, curled into a pathetic, tiny little ball on his enemy's couch. But this was the only place he could think of to go. He couldn't go home; not back to Ryan. He couldn't go to a hospital, or the media would find out who he was. And yeah, Magnus was a villain, but he had never been one of the worst ones. He had always seemed…if not like a good man, than at least one with a smidgen of honor. Not someone who would have taken advantage of the state Cassian was in.

And it was true; Magnus wouldn't take advantage of Sketch's state. Villain or not, he had his own unspoken rules, principals that he followed— and harming any person who was already practically destroyed was something he could not justify.

"You don't have to apologize." The words were almost foreign on Magnus's lips. This whole situation was like something straight out of the Twilight Zone. "Do you need to go to a hospital?" he asked, before it occurred to him that Sketch was likely avoiding the hospital for the same reason he personally would avoid one: protecting his identity. Which, Magnus had always been a bit willy-nilly with his own identity— mostly because he didn't care if anyone knew. He tried to keep it a secret, but since he had no family to endanger, it was never a top priority. But for most heroes and villains, it was.

He shook his head quickly. "N-no…no h-hospital." he said, shoulders heaving slightly with his tears, body still trembling. He couldn't go to the hospital. Not just because of his identity, but because if he went to the hospital, they would contact Ryan. And he couldn't go back to Ryan. Not when Ryan was the one that had caused this. Sure, his boyfriend hadn't personally hurt him, at least not this time, but Ryan had allowed it to happen. Had handed him over to the people that did it and Cas couldn't go back. He couldn't go back to Ryan, not again. "P-please. I— I can't go t-to the hosp-pital."

"Okay, okay. No hospital." Magnus's brow creased in thought. He had to do something; the guy was in bad shape. "Well, someone's gonna have to treat you. You're in bad shape." Magnus's eyes ran once over the many injuries covering Cas's body. If he didn't bleed out, there was still the possibility of infection. What if he had internal bleeding or bruising? Broken bones? Even if he didn't, he was clearly in a lot of pain and wasn't going to be doing anything for awhile. And he wasn't a threat to any villain— Magnus or otherwise— like this.

Magnus had never seen a superhero in such a compromised, vulnerable state. It was weird. It felt weirder to be helping him.

"Just— try to calm down a little. You're gonna be fine; you can stay here 'til I figure something out." Magnus probably had a first-aid kit he could use. He was no doctor, but he was the only option Cas had at the moment.

Cas was still trembling, still crying quietly. "I'm s-sorry." he said yet again, apologizing for being here, for intruding upon Magnus, for…well, for everything. "So s-sorry." his brown hair was disheveled and greasy, matted with blood from an injury. His clothes were torn and stained with blood, though most injuries seemed to be blunt force or inflicted by blades. Nothing that should have gone too deep, though it was possible he had broken ribs from whatever had happened to him.

"Don't be sorry. You haven't done anything." Magnus winced a little bit at Cas's horrible state. "Wait here a second, alright? Don't move. I'll be right back." Magnus stood up and left to gather up a few things: the aforementioned first aid kit, some water, a blanket, maybe a pillow or two. It seemed ridiculous; he wasn't this guy's mother, and he especially wasn't his nurse. In fact, Magnus was supposed to be Sketch's enemy.

So why was he even bothering?

Because it was the only justifiable thing to do. How could he not? Sketch was kind of pathetic at the moment. Nobody else was gonna fix him up. And if the guy had thought to come all the way to Magnus's place expecting help— by golly, Magnus was gonna give it to him.

Magnus returned with the cargo and placed the glass on the coffee table in front of him. "How bad are you injured? Are you still bleeding?"

He was still trembling, curled into a little ball on the couch. "I…I don't know." he whispered, wiping at his eyes and trying to stop the tears. It felt like he was crumbling apart and he didn't know how to fix it. How to make it any different or better. All he knew was that he was in tears, that Ryan…Ryan…Ryan had always been…cruel, but he had never thought…he hadn't thought that the man could do something like this to him. Hadn't thought Ryan would just…hand him over like…like Cass was nothing. He sniffled, quivering and eyes watering as he tried to hold back tears.

The sight was so pitiful that it hurt Magnus's heart. "Well, don't worry, you're gonna be okay." He placed his fingers against Cas's forehead— which was startlingly cold, likely from blood loss or the drugs in his system. Magnus frowned and unfolded the blanket he'd brought before carefully draping it over the guy's shoulders and pulled it around him to try to warm him up. "Are you thirsty?" He didn't wait for a reply before he grabbed the water glass and offered it to Cas. He started to hand it to him, but then he realized that he'd already sort of entrapped Cas's arms with the blanket. Instead of making the poor guy bother to unwrap himself, Magnus decided he'd just make it easier on him and lift the glass to his lips for him. "Here, drink a little bit of this if you can."

Cas reached up to tug the blanket tighter around his trembling body, shifting a little bit to sip from the water bottle. "Th-thank you." he whispered when he finished, wiping his mouth with the edge of the blanket and still looking very small and uncertain, curled up on Magnus's couch. "I'm really sorry f-for c-coming here…I-I just…I…there's n-nowhere else to go…"

"I know," Magnus reassured him softly. Actually, Magnus didn't know; he was just trying to find a way to agree and help the guy feel better. "It's okay. Really. You're welcome here."
That seemed odd, really, coming from a villain to a hero, but— ah, forget it. There was nothing about this situation that was normal anyway; did Magnus actually expect it to start making more sense? No. He did not.
"Your wounds." He wasn't fond of what he was about to say, but it was necessary nonetheless. "Those are gonna have to be looked at and treated ASAP. And by ASAP, I literally mean as soon as possible, which is right now." He cleared his throat. "You said no hospitals— but do you know any doctor or anyone that I should take you to?"

He shook his head a little. "I c-can't go to a hospital." he said again. "I…he'd f-find me a-again and…" he trailed off, breath catching as he tried not to break down into tears again. "I'm s-s-sorry." he sniffled, still clinging to the blanket that Magnus had wrapped around his shoulders. "A-and I d-don't…kn-know any d-doctors…"

(bump?)