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You don’t respect me. Wrench signed insistently once the two of them were in the motel room. Numbers sighed and rolled his eyes for the hundredth time that evening.
“This again? Really?” he replied, not even bothering to sign it, much to Wrench’s annoyance. He could read lips, but it was much harder for him and took too much effort. Plus, Numbers’ lips were kind of hard to see from underneath his beard. “Will you just let it go already?”
No, I won’t just let it go. Wrench argued. It’s important.
“Oh my God,” Numbers shook his head. “You’re being so dramatic.” When he looked over at Wrench’s confused expression, he sighed and tried again, signing it this time. You’re being dramatic.
You’re calling me dramatic? Wrench let out a sound similar to laughter and shook his head. You’re the biggest drama queen in Minnesota.
I am not. Numbers shot back, taking a step closer to his partner.
Yes you are, and you know it. Wrench looked smug, which just made Numbers that much angrier. He searched for the right reply, his hands fumbling and shaking around for a moment while he thought. Before he could think of anything, Wrench continued signing. You only think of yourself. You never even listen to me.
“Maybe I would listen to you if you had something important to say every once in a while,” Numbers yelled, knowing very well he was being slightly immature for speaking instead of sighing. He knew his partner could read his lips, so he would be understood. It would just be very, very difficult for Wrench to keep up.
See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. Wrench angrily gestured, stepping closer and squaring his shoulders.
“Oh, am I making you angry?” Numbers smiled pleasantly. “I’m sorry.” Even being unable to hear him, Wrench could sense the sarcasm.
You are a child. Wrench signed, practically snarling. You are so immature.
“Oh I’m immature? Really?” Numbers coughed out a laugh and shook his head. “You are being so childish right now. This is ridiculous.” Giving up and throwing his hands in the air in surrender, he turned away from his partner, another thing he knew was, admittedly, unfair to do.
You— Wrench broke off from signing when his partner turned around. He absolutely hated when Numbers did that. Communication was hard for him already, but when Numbers refused to acknowledge his existence, it made communication practically impossible.
Wrench tapped him on the shoulder, but there was no response. Furiously, he grabbed Numbers’ shoulder and spun him around, simultaneously beginning to sign insults at him. In the middle of spouting profanity, Wrench’s hands became too animated, and he promptly popped Numbers in the nose.
“Fuck!” Numbers shouted, stepping back and cradling his face in his hands.
Sorry, Wrench signed instinctively, even though his partner wasn’t watching. He tried to get control of the situation, but he really wasn’t sure how he was going to do that. Hesitantly, his hands hovered over Numbers’ back, and he wondered if a comforting pat would help the situation or just make it worse.
Numbers stood back up straight, covering his nose with both his hands. He looked only slightly angry, but mostly just surprised. Wrench was about to ask if he was alright when Numbers removed his hands, revealing a bloody nose. The blood streamed down his chin, running through his bear and dripping into his cupped hands.
“Does it look bad?” Numbers asked, staring right at his partner so he could read his lips clearly. Wrench hesitated before slowly shaking his head in response.
Go sit down, Wrench signed. I’ll get a towel. He rushed into the bathroom and grabbed a couple towels and wet them down, returning as quickly as he could. When he came back, Numbers was sitting on the edge of the bed and staring up at the ceiling, holding out his bloody hands in front of him.
Wrench sat down beside his partner and held one towel up to his face with one hand, stopping the blood flow. With his free hand, he wiped down one of Numbers hands so he could take over holding the towel to his face. With both hands free then, Wrench spent more time cleaning Numbers’ other bloody hand. He scrubbed in between the fingers gently and turned it over and over in his own palms, making sure it was spotless. When he was sure it was, he still kept it in his own hands for a few more moments before letting it go.
I’m sorry, he signed again, and this time Numbers saw. He sighed from under the towel on his face, then after a pause, nodded his head.
I know. Numbers used sign language again, something Wrench was infinitely grateful for. Then, slowly, Numbers lowered his head back down and removed the bloody towel from his face. He wiped his nose and beard clean, and after waiting to make sure he was done bleeding, turned to face his partner. I’m sorry, too, he signed.
Are you okay? Wrench was worried and, honestly, very guilty. He never wanted to hurt his partner, even during an argument.
Numbers grinned. Do you really think you’re that strong?
Wrench tried to hold back a smile, but he wasn’t doing so well. No, I just know you’re weak. Wrench laughed when his partner whacked him on the arm. It was a playful hit, but still fairly intense, and it hurt a bit. Wrench assumed it was Numbers’ revenge, so he’d let it slide.
Wordlessly, Wrench offered to take the bloody towels and he threw them into the bathroom to take care of later. When he returned, Numbers was lying down comfortably on the bed and patting the spot beside him. Wrench curled up next to him so they were facing each other. For a long time, they just laid there silently. Numbers was the first one to break the silence.
I do respect you, he signed seriously.
Wrench knew that was true. He knew his partner respected him, even if he sometimes didn’t show it. In response, he held his fingers in the sign for I love you and slid his hand over to his side of the bed. Numbers took the hand in his own and held it, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. They fell asleep like that, the argument completely forgotten. It wasn’t really all that important anymore.