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Every day, there was something else to do, it seemed. At least for Bigby Wolf. There wasn’t a day where he didn’t have to walk blocks for a simple check-in or questioning. He refused to pay for public transportation most days, and it’s near impossible to see through lies when you can’t even see the liar at all. A car was out of the question, and so was asking anyone for a ride, even though Snow would definitely offer one at any time. So, he walked.
Outside, on the streets of New York, it’s also impossible to be alone with one’s thoughts. There were any number of phenomena to observe at all hours of the day. Bigby’s exceptional sense of smell helped, too. Oh, the smell. You couldn’t really think of much else.
The sun had almost set.
He was on his way to some sort of ...what had Snow called it? A dispensary. She blushed when asked what they dispensed, but he had gotten it out of Buffkin right away. It was run by Fables and selling to Mundies, and it was selling drugs at that. The possibilities to fuck something like that up were innumerable. No reports of foul play yet, but it still warrants a surprise visit from the Sheriff. He smirked as he wondered just how mad Snow would be if he brought something home with him.
The neon signs were starting to flutter on, marking the time of day again. Bigby didn’t even bother to look up when they opened. He didn’t really care, probably better to come when there aren’t any customers anyways. This time, he wasn’t all too concerned with catching them off their guard. He didn’t know them, but he assumed from what he heard that they were just trying to run their business. Unfortunately, being a Fable in this day and age guarantees a knock at the door a few times a year, with someone like Bigby behind it carrying plenty of questions. Up in the distance, he saw a green light flicker on, shaped like a pot leaf. Anything but subtle. Thankfully, he was close. All this for a check-in. Fuck, maybe it would make it more worth it to get something while he was there...after all, he is on company time. How could Snow protest?
He rubbed his shoulder uncomfortably. This, and all the way back, too, before he could sleep on his chair. Christ. Bigby pulled on the bandages under his shirt binding his chest down to relieve some pressure, taking one deep breath before letting them snap back into position.
It really did hurt sometimes. In better times, Bigby was doing desk work, but when things went to shit (often, they did) it was in his job description to do all sorts of jumping, running, crouching, and taking bullets. Snow would make him take it off when things got bad like that. Somehow, magically, she always found time to take care of him. He’s certain Snow would be upset if she knew he was binding with Ace bandage and walking a mile to a fuckin’ weed dispensary at the same time. But there’s a lot of things Snow would prefer he not do. Smoking. Smoking inside the office. Leaving the cigarettes on the floor after he’s done with them, after she had already put five ashtrays hidden around the office for him over the years. He could understand those. And he could understand this one, too, but disregarded it momentarily so that he could go outside without a hoodie. It was summer.
He grunted and pulled at the bandages again. They weren’t noticeable, most times, until you noticed them. And then they became painfully obvious. His chest felt too small all of a sudden. It stung. Maybe calling a cab was worth it...
Bigby stopped below the neon sign marking the shop he was looking for and breathed a sigh of relief, putting his hands on his knees for a few seconds. Suddenly, he felt a bit dizzy and sick. Short of breath. He rubbed his chest uncomfortably, smoothing it out and straightening himself up. He tried to take a deep breath in. That only sent a sharp pain into his ribcage, and he doubled over again, trying not to lose balance.
“Nng…” Bigby reached out to rest his hand on the glass door to his right to stable himself. It was a door marked ‘push.’ Bigby hit the ground on his back with a smack and had the breath knocked out of him. What hurt more than the fall is when he gasped for air and again felt the shooting pain rocket through his chest.
“Ohhh…oh, no.” Staring up at the ceiling, he fumbled for his phone in his back pocket to dial Snow. He was hyperventilating, careful not to upset his ribcage any more.
“Sheriff Bigby? Are you okay?” Said a feeble voice from behind him. Aw, shit. Of course they were open. He couldn’t see them, and couldn’t dare to crane his neck, either.
“Yeah,” He said in a short exhale of breath, not sounding very convincing.
“Really?”
“No,”
“Oh. Oh, shit. Who do I call?”
“Nobody.” Bigby snaked his phone out of his pocket and held it by his side, glancing at it out of the corner of his eye as he navigated to contacts. As he scrolled down and reached the ‘S’ section, he hesitated. Not sure if she’d like this much. He scrolled down to ‘T’, taking a half a second to consider and reject the notion of calling him. No. There was only one person to call. He scrolled back up to ‘S’ and double-tapped Swineheart’s name. Dr. Swineheart wasn’t gonna like this either, but his job was to dislike Bigby’s decision making. He wouldn’t get paid otherwise.
The phone line trilled for a single ring before he picked up. “Hello. Dr. Swineheart. Who’s this?”
“Bigby.”
“Oh, god. Where do you need me?”
Bigby gave him the address out and hung up, not even bothering to put the phone back in his pocket. He let it clatter to the floor next to him and closed his eyes. Dr. Swineheart shouldn’t be long. He knows by now that with Bigby, all calls are emergency calls. The cashier was shuffling nervously behind him, not sure what to do. Once in a while, they would open their mouth to speak but close it just as fast. Bigby was embarrassed, sure, but not in the mood to care, currently. His chest was constantly hurting now, and it seemed to be getting worse.
He opened his eyes next and Dr. Swineheart was standing over him. Fuck, did I fall asleep? How? Groaning, he lifted his arm to put his hand on his chest, measuring his breath. The doctor was talking to that shopkeep who watched him tumble in from the street.
“Okay. Can you help me lift him?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Grab his legs for me.”
Bigby twisted his neck to look behind him. “Wait, wait, no-”
“Sorry, Bigby. Yes. Stay still. I’m grabbing your shoulders.” Bigby groaned and sighed, relaxing his shoulders.
“I can get up.”
“Shut up.” Bigby closed his mouth and heard the good doctor countdown from three before he was lifted and carried to the backseat of Swineheart’s fancy, new-smelling car. The smell instantly started to make him sick. But, at least it was clean. Though the seat belt’s buckle receptacle dug into his hip, the soft and well-kept cushions were leagues better than the concrete floor he was on moments before.
“Are you binding right now, Bigby?”
“Nnn. Yeah.”
Dr. Swineheart sighed. “Alright. I’m taking them off now-”
“What the fuck, right here with the car door open? Are you kidding me?”
Dr. Swineheart glared at him silently with a pair of scissors in hand. Bigby winced, not from the pain, but from the reminder that the doctor and Snow White act startlingly similar, sometimes.
“Give me the scissors. I’ll do it. Just close the door and drive me home, will you? Christ.” He held out his hand for the scissors. Swineheart rotated them to the non-sharp end and placed them carefully in Bigby’s hand. He shut the door softly, mindful of Bigby’s feet. The sheriff sighed and wiggled his way into a position where he could snake his hands up his shirt and start cutting at the tight wrappings. The cold scissors actually felt pretty nice on his chest.
“Careful,” Came the reminder from the front seat. Bigby grunted in response. Immediately, he could feel a great pressure come off his chest, and with it came another sharp pain.
The drive back to his apartment was thankfully quiet after that, but Bigby could still feel the doctor’s distaste for his actions. Better than hearing it. He could close his eyes and let the rocking of the car lull him into a half-awake state.
When the car settled to a stop, Bigby found the strength to get up and push his way out of the car. He couldn’t see Dr. Swineheart, but he was sure he’d much prefer Bigby be carried out again. Bridal style. He shuffled past the door and into the elevator while Dr. Swineheart, always health conscious, took the stairs.
---
Of course, Snow ended up there later. She has a sixth sense, just for Bigby and his shitty decision-making.
“He’ll be fine. Certainly been through worse. But he broke a rib when he fell. It should heal fine, if he doesn’t move too much, or restrict his ribcage anymore.” Shit.
“Alright. So, just take it easy, then? That’s all?”
“Yes. Though knowing him, that’s a difficult endeavor. Keep an eye on him.” Dr. Swineheart snapped his case shut with a snap and tipped his hat towards Bigby. He let himself out. That just left him, and Snow.
“I know,” Bigby said as he reached for his glass of whiskey on the coffee table in front of him. He winced at the pressure on his ribs as they twisted.
“Do you know? Because you keep being...stupid, Bigby. You know glamours exist, right? You don’t even have to do any of this, let alone do it with damn bandages.” Bigby sipped at his whiskey. The witches didn’t like editing established glamours. At least the ones that did it through proper channels. No, they preferred to renew existing ones. It was standard. It would be possible to convince them to alter his, but that would involve more than just the witches. It would involve a written report to the higher-ups. And he didn’t want his gender identity to be free information. He couldn’t have it be free information. It was dangerous to more than just him. He stayed quiet. Snow already knew why he hadn’t done that yet. They’ve been through this before, when he broke his rib two months ago in a chase, and even before when he bruised his chest trying to scale a fence.
Snow sighed. “There are safer ways, you know. It’s not the old days. Mundies are pretty inventive for this sort of stuff.” Bigby perked up at this, looking at her in surprise.
“I can help you.” He smirked. “But not if you keep being stupid. I’m getting you a binder. No buts.”
“Deal.” He smiled softly at Snow. She softened her brows and returned the gesture silently.
“Don’t even move from that spot, Bigby. I’ll be right back.”
“Or what?”
“Or...I’ll think of something on the way there.” Bigby hums and twirls the ice around in his glass.
“Thanks, Snow.” He looks at her sweetly one last time.
“Bigby?”
“Yea?”
“Shut up.”