fandomhighdorms | Chester A. Arthur Living Room

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Chester A. Arthur Living Room - Thursday morning

Prince Edward was seated on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television by way of remote control. The things he's learned since coming to this place. Ahhhh.

But he wasn't in the mood for happy. No, he was not. He woke up in a foul mood and longed for something to hunt. Perhaps Rangering tomorrow would prove worthy. His dark mood will no doubt last till then.

Someone should cook him breakfast, for his stomach would not shut up.

[It's open, of course.]

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Oh no. Not there. Edward froze, went pastey, and keeled over backwards.

Hannibal stumbled a bit from the sudden change in positions and kind of just watched Edward fall over.

"That hurt, huh?" he asked, once he'd gotten his focus back.

He held up one finger, his other hand between his legs, and squeaked a "Not much."

Wait until he could stand. Hannibal would be greatly sorry for kneeing his man package.

"Yeah, you don't look like you're in pain at all," Hannibal said, slowly getting his smugness back.

Edward rose up slowly, his cheeks less pale now. He took a challenging step back and quirked a brow.

He could be smug as well.

"Funny, you look more and more like a girl."

"Weren't you just on the floor writhing like a wimp?" Hannibal asked, crossing his arms.

He wouldn't put it just like that.

Without a word, he stepped forward the same time he swung a fist towards Hannibal's face.

Oh, goddammit, hadn't expected that and couldn't move fast enough to totally miss. The punch clipped his chin and that was going to leave a nice bruise. Hannibal recovered fairly quickly, bringing his own fist around towards Edward's face.

Edward knew from experience that Hannibal was fast. He expected such a response and ducked, bringing another fist up aimed for his stomach.

Well, shit, there was another one that was going to sting. Despite the sudden urge to throw up, Hannibal managed to bring an elbow down towards Edward's neck, trying to take advantage of his position.

Sweet blessed mother, that smarted! Edward dropped to one knee with the blow, but managed to push himself up quickly, side-stepping in case Hannibal swung, and with a fast movement in, his fist shot forward aiming for the man's nose.

Oh no, he was not getting his damned nose again. Hannibal managed to turn his head at the last minute and took the blow on the cheek. Thank god he didn't feel anything crack.

Swinging blindly, he threw an uppercut at Edward.

Which caught his left cheekbone as he tried to duck away from it, splitting the skin.

"Dammit man!" he growled, twisting his hips and lunging forward to throw another punch towards his face, preferably in that fancy smart mouth of his.

Oh, his cheek and ear were going to hurt tomorrow because he turned away again, still trying to keep his nose safe and took the blow on that same cheek.

Still no cracking but he wasn't going to be surprised if something did break.

Right now, he was only concerned about breaking Edward's face. And he tried to do that using his elbow again, thrusting it hard towards Edward's chin.

He really needed to count on that elbow work from now on, because Hannibal clipped him good, causing his head to jerk back as he stumbled.

What the hell were they fighting about again?

Righting himself, he blinked rapidly to bring everything back into focus and realized he'd bit his tonge and lip. Blood was running from his mouth.

With a roar, he rushed forward and ducked, trying to send the whole of his upper body into Hannibal to knock him off his feet.

Well, there was just no blocking that and Hannibal was only grateful that the couch was behind him so he fell backwards into the couch. Of course, all of Edward's weight went into his ribs and stomach and he grunted painfully.

"Goddammit, you weight a ton!" he shouted, trying to push Edward up and away from him.

"Muscle you fumbling fool!" he yelled, rearing back and trying to get a fast right and left jab in. He didn't care where. Really. At this point he'd just like to see Hannibal out of it.

"Fat!" Hannibal yelled. He was going to be in so much trouble for this. He took the right jab but managed to block most of the left jab before aiming a stiff, straight jab to Edward's nose.

"Girl!" he shouted, taking the jab to his nose since he couldn't see it coming. And yes, there was a decisive 'crack'.

Backing off, he stumbled a few feet backward and reached up to cup his nose.

"OH!" Blink. Blood gushed.

"You broke my nose!" He flailed. "Fix it!"

"Oh, shit," Hannibal said, almost feeling bad. He'd heard that crack too. "Oh god. I don't know how to fix it."

And he was having trouble moving around without pain and stuff.

"Go get...something to bleed on!"

Arms were flaily and he looked at Hannibal like a lost little puppy.

"What? What?!"

Blink.

"Put it back!"

"I'm not a doctor!" Hannibal shouted, pushing himself up, wincing all along and retrieving a wash cloth. He shoved it at Edward and then made him sit down. "Don't move. I'm going to get you some ice."

Slowly. He was going to do that slowly because ow ow ow ow.

Sitting, he held the cloth to his nose and tilted his head back.

He was dying. Did no one care? He was going to bleed to death and die with a crooked nose. What prince dies with a crooked nose?

"Sweet Andalasia," he murmured. "Spare me a crooked nose."

"Oh, shut up," Hannibal groused, finding some ice and moving gingerly back over to Edward. "You're fine. It'll give you character. You might have cracked one of my ribs, if that helps."

"Is blood gushing down your throat?" he asked. "Because if not, I should fix that." Edward could barely lift a hand right now.

"Adora is going to be sooooo mad," he whispered.

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