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It was incredibly rare that you ever got involved in Joseph's business. It wasn't that you weren't capable of debt collecting. You were raised in Royston Vasey, and you had a sharp tongue and a powerful right-hook to prove it. Joseph knew that better than anyone.
You'd first met years ago when Joseph tried to break into your flat not long after you'd moved to Vasey. He'd banged your door, believing you owed him money and demanding that he wouldn't leave until he got it. He did not get a penny out if you, but instead a swift punch to the jaw that left him aching more than he cared to admit. The old residents had owed him, but they'd fled, scamming him out of thousands. Barry Baggs had saved Joseph from your wrath, and you from his, as he stumbled in explaining the mix-up. Joseph then left, but not without a compliment on your punch and a business card with his address on it.
A few months later, you were together, finding you loved each other's company more than you thought possible. Things started to change when Ross Gaines, your childhood friend, move to Royston Vasey. It had been years since you'd last seen him, and everything had changed except for the way that you felt about him. You felt guilty at first, but when you found Joseph felt the same, you approached Ross and created a life that the three of you were beyond content with.
Anyway, it was rare that you ever got involved in Joseph's business. You weren't at all weak or dimwitted. If he didn't have a connection to you, Joseph would rather you worked for him than the clowns he works with. But, he wanted to protect you. He knew you could protect yourself, but the thought of you coming home with even a tiny bruise or a minor scratch because of his business repulsed him. Joseph wasn't sure how he'd react or even cope if you or Ross got hurt because of him.
But, God, you were persistent. You knew how to wear both of the men down, but you found Joseph extremely easy to get to. You knew the girl who owed him money; Emily Horner. She was a girl you'd known in school, cruel then and cruel now. You would never tell Joseph, but you had a bit of a soft spot for Barry Baggs, and you did not want to subject him to her if you could help it.
So, naturally, you volunteered.
"Absolutely not! Are you losing your fucking mind?!" spat Joseph, slamming his hands on the desk as he stared at you incredulously. You tried not to jump at the sudden action, knowing it would not at all help your case.
"Please, love?" you pleaded sweetly, leaning forward to place your hands over Joseph's. You rubbed small, smoothing circles, watching as his face softened and his shoulder slumped. You had him exactly where you wanted him. "Just one time? You can pay me for it if it makes you feel better."
Joseph inhaled deeply, turning a hand over to grasp yours firmly. He ran his other hand over his face, exhaling, "Give me one good reason."
"She's a bitch, and I want to put her in her place, and—"
"That's two reasons, gorgeous—"
"I'm better at it than Barry," you bargained, a knowing grin on your face. Joseph quirked a brow, but hummed in agreement. He leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.
"I hate this idea, but you are hot as fuck when you're pissed off at someone," admitted Joseph. He hesitated, but, finally, he agreed. "One time. But, I'm waiting outside and you can tell Ross."
You squealed in excitement, pushing the chair back and rushing to Joseph's side of the desk. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple and giggling as looped his arms around your waist, pulling you down into his lap.
"I will not let you down," you assured, nuzzling your face into his neck and pressing a kiss against the warm, tender skin there.
Joseph shook his head, "You never could."
—————
“When the fuck did I invite you to tag along?”
"When you roped our partner into it!"
"They roped themselves into it! They're a fucking menace!"
Both men glared at you, and you grinned menacingly. You lurched forward and wrapped your arms around their shoulders, pulling them close. You ignored how tense they were, neither of them being big fans of PDA.
"I'm going to be fine," you said, "Absolutely fine."
You let them go, walking slightly ahead of them and ignoring their hushed whispers as you tried to mentally prepare yourself. You’d never admit it, but you’d felt like you’d bitten off more than you could chew. Yes, you wanted to shout at Emily. Yes, you wanted to show her the vicious attitude she had shown you. But, was this the right time or place? Putting Joseph’s business and money at stake so you could have some petty revenge for a feud of the past?
As Emily’s block of flats came into view, you slowed, breathless as you stood still in the middle of the street. It was as if your legs couldn’t carry you further. You closed your eyes shut and breathed in deeply, only stopping when Joseph came to a halt behind you, hand resting on the small of your back as leaned in close.
“You okay?” asked Joseph, uncharacteristically soft as he rubbed soothing circles against your back. “You don’t have to do this at all, love. We can turn around and go home and—”
“I’m fine,” you said, taking a deep breath and stepping away from his touch with a shake of your head. “Just a bit out of breath from the walk.”
You didn’t give either man a chance to respond, trying to ignore the look of doubt that they shared as you walked away with purpose, doing all you could to ignore the bubbling anxiety in the pit of your stomach. No matter how scary it was, you wanted this. You wanted to shout at her, maybe throw a punch if she was difficult, which you didn’t doubt she would be. The idea of her handing the money over with no struggle almost bored you.
But, deep down, a part of you really wanted to impress Joseph. You had no doubt that he was fond of you. He made that abundantly clear with every touch and every word. But, who didn’t want to chase the satisfaction of their loved ones? Who didn’t want to be told that they had done well and that someone was proud of them? It was simple enough.
At last, you reached the bottom of the steel staircase, turning to face your partners who had lagged slightly behind you as you prepared to go up to the first story flat.
“We’ll be standing here and listening. If she gives you any shit, I’ll be straight up,” assured Joseph, hands firmly on your shoulders as he tugged you closer to place a longing kiss against your forehead. He was hesitant to let you go. “She’s paid back before, should be easy enough.”
You nodded, squeezing your arms around his waist tightly for a few seconds before you separated. You turned to Ross, throwing your arms around his shoulders and melting into him as he wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and refusing to say a word because God knows he didn’t have anything positive to say about the situation. Ross leaned back, cupping your face gently and pressing a featherlight kiss against the tip of your nose.
For two men who hated PDA, they certainly didn’t do a bad job at it.
Stepping back, you smiled in a desperate attempt to convince both them and yourself that you weren’t at all panicking. You didn’t say a word as you walked up the stairs, wiping your clammy palms against your trousers and taking a few deep breaths. You looked around the area as you got higher, not at all soothed by the dullness of the concrete and the stench of rubbish. Typical Vasey.
You reached the door, and turned back to look at Joseph and Ross. Much to your dismay, they were out of sight, tucked just beneath the staircase so that Emily wouldn’t see them.
You knocked firmly, tilting open the letterbox and shouting, “Debt collectors, open up, please!” It was definitely too polite, but it was your first time, so you cut yourself some slack. You were sure you heard Joseph snicker below you. You knocked harder. “Debt collectors, open the door!”
The click of heels against linoleum grew closer, too fast for you to comprehend until the door swung open. Emily didn’t seem much different. Still taller than you, though you acknowledged that the bleached blonde blowout definitely added an inch or two. Her makeup was caked on to a point that it was beginning to crumble in places, the foundation shade hardly matched the fake tan plastered onto her arms. You tried not to even look at the tacky, thin leopard print leggings that were moulded to her legs. You’d seen enough eyesores on the way over.
“Surely not,” cackled Emily, voice as grating and irritating as you remembered. She had a vicious smirk, leaning against her doorframe and all too comfortable as she spoke, “Y/N! I thought you’d moved out of Vasey with your boyfriend when he moved to London? Oh, I were well jel!”
“Ollie was not my boyfriend, he was a nuisance. You started that rumour,” you argued bitterly, grimacing at the memory of that mop of blonde hair and oversized glasses that seemed to always be two steps behind you for years. But, this was not about Ollie Plimsolls, for once. “You owe Lisgoe money, and I’m here to take it.”
Emily’s tattooed brows raised in surprise, and you detested how amused she looked, “You? You want to take money from me?”
“Yes! You obviously have it ‘cause you haven’t spent it on new clothes, you tacky bitch,” you spat, surprised by your own words as you nudged her back, stepping through the door. “So, if you could hand it to me, and I’ll be on my way.”
Emily grimaced, stepping back slowly before trying to slam the door. Your foot was jammed in it, and you ignored the flash of pain as adrenaline pumped through your veins. You slammed the door back open, not concerned with closing it behind you as you stormed at Emily. You grabbed her by the collar of her cheap cotton blouse, seething as you slammed her against the wall. Manicured nails scratched at your arms as she struggled, but a swift punch to the jaw quickly stopped her.
As Emily shouted aimlessly for help, you spoke loudly over her, “You’ve been an absolute cunt your whole life. Give me the fucking money or I’ll knock your tiny fucking brains out.”
It was about more than the money, whether she knew that, you weren’t sure. You held your forearm against her chest to stop her from struggling so much, and you almost delighted in the feeling as tears brimmed in her eyes.
Then, it came to an end. A look of relief fell on Emily’s face, and before you had time to think about it, let alone question it, you were tugged from her by a large pair of hands. For a second, you thought it was Lisgoe, but as your head made contact with the wall with enough force to leave you dazed and nauseous, you knew it couldn’t be him. You barely had time to breathe before a firm blow was delivered to your collarbone, tearing open the skin and leaving you shouting out in pain as you pressed your hand against it.
“What the fuck?” you wheezed, hunched over and breathless as you looked up to see a large, tattooed man looking nothing short of absolutely furious.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house? Grabbing my fucking wife?” he growled, gripping your hair and tugging you up so that you were face to face. You cried out in pain, the scent of stale smoke and alcohol wafting into you as his breath fanned your face.
Despite the physical pain, nothing felt worse in that moment than the heart-wrenching shame that clawed at you as you teared up, cracking under the pressure of failure. You tried to shove yourself away from him, but he was larger than you. Hell, he was larger than Joseph. So, when you saw him rush through the door out of the corner of your eye, you didn’t feel as reassured as you should have.
“Get your fucking hands off them or I will blow your fucking brains out,” ordered Joseph, looking completely serious as he pulled a small pistol from beneath his jacket and aimed it at the man. You gasped as the man let go of you, your pained body hitting the floor with force.
“Lisgoe,” murmured the man grimly, holding his hands up in surrender. He sounded nervous, fumbling for his wallet, “Just a misunderstanding. I didn’t know you were getting amateurs to do your work for you.”
You found it impossible to read Joseph as he shrugged, taking cash from the man and stuffing it in his pocket with the gun. “Won’t be happening again, I can assure you.”
You buried your head in the crook of your arm as you sobbed, the disappointment in Joseph’s voice paining you more than anything. You felt grim with panic; panic that he’d leave you, panic that Ross would leave with him. You’d be left to rot. You were frightened beyond words.
You knew that these men loved you, and you were reminded of how fiercely loved you were when Ross rushed in. He was totally oblivious to the fact that the situation had been resolved as he lunged at the man. Ross swung a punch at his cheek, and the man did not even flinch. As Ross yelped, cradling his hand pathetically, the man decided that was punishment enough.
"Sorry, again, Lisgoe. If you could shut the door behind you, that'd be grand," said the man, cringing as Ross continued to groan in pain. He gestured down the corridor. "I best go check on the missus. They did a number on her, to be fair."
Joseph hummed absentmindedly, too focused on glaring pityingly at Ross as he rubbed his knuckles in an attempt to sooth the pain. As soon as the man left the room, Joseph dropped to his knees next to your sobbing form, Ross quickly shaking off the pain to follow.
“Darling,” exhaled Joseph, lips pulled into a frown as he helped you sit up. You whined in pain, uninjured side collapsing into Joseph. He did his best to avoid your injured collarbone as he cradled your head to his chest, his spare hand rubbing your forearm soothingly. “We need to leave in case anyone’s phoned the police.”
If you were in the right state of mind, you’d tease Joseph for how softly he spoke. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, too overwhelmed to even think about moving as you let Joseph help you to your feet. When Joseph was sure you could stand, he moved to wrap an arm around your shoulder to help you walk. Unknowingly, he brushed his hand against your injured collarbone. You yelped, jumping away from him and cradling your arm against your body, eyes squeezed shut in pain as you tried to calm yourself with deep breaths.
"There, is it?" asking Joseph, gently tugging the neckline of your t-shirt down to reveal reddened, bruising skin. A nasty gash had cut across it, and it was only now Joseph and Ross noticed the blood that had been spreading on your black shirt. "Fucking Hell, love..."
Ross looked over Joseph's shoulder, fury flooding his senses at the sight of your injury.
"I'm going to fucking kill him!" seethed Ross, turning to march back through the flat. Joseph reached out, gripping his shoulder and pulling him back against his chest.
"You think I fucking won't? We've got more important things to worry about, you little dickhead," ordered Joseph, the gentle caress of his thumb across Ross's sore knuckles being a welcome contrast to the insult. "You could hardly throw a punch, never mind kill the fucker."
Ross huffed defeatedly, stepping towards you and carefully wrapping an arm around your uninjured side. You melted into his touch, barely able to look at Joseph as your mind clouded with guilt. The feeling of letting him down was too much to handle, and even though he didn’t seem to mind right now, you felt that it would catch up to him in no time. They only focused on getting home safe right now, and it was lucky enough that Barbara was passing with no passengers.
"If it isn't my favourite throuple! What's happened here, then?" asked Barbara after parking beside you. There was a hint of genuine concern in her voice that made your heart warm.
“Messy business. You know how it is, Babs,” said Joseph far too casually. He placed a hand on your back, leading you away from Ross to give Barbara a clearer view of you. “Can they sit in the front with you? They’re a bit hurt and I don’t to squish them between us.”
"I bloody well don't know how it is. And I don't want to find out. I can't be dealing with legal trouble, you hear me?" lectured Barbara sternly. The act dropped swiftly though, and you swore you saw a small, sympathetic smile as she undid the lock. "Of course they can sit with me. Help them around now, there's a good lad."
Joseph held a hand out, but you shook your head, sniffling as you stepped back. You wiped away a few stray tears, forcing a tiny, weak smile, “I’m okay. I’ve got it.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” frowned Joseph defeatedly, “You’re fucking hurt.”
“I can open a door, Joseph,” you said as sternly as you could, trying to ignore the ache in your chest as Joseph’s face scrunched in annoyance. Before he could let it get the better of him, he opened the backdoor and got in, slamming it shut behind him.
You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose to stop the tears from flowing. Ross quickly wrapped an arm around your shoulders, whispering soothingly as he walked you to the passenger door.
"You haven't upset him or anything, you know that, don't you, love?" asked Ross quietly as he opened the door for you. You just shook your head, and Ross huffed a deep sigh, pressing a kiss to your temple before helping you into the car.
It was a quiet drive back to Ross's flat. Barbara made small talk with Ross, not wanting to stumble into any illegal territory by talking to Joseph and not wanting to upset you any further. When you pulled up, Joseph and Ross got out first. Joseph went straight to the front door of the complex, while Ross came around to help you out. Before you could get out, Barbara reached for you, surprisingly soft hand circling around your wrist. You turned to face her.
"Listen, love, if you want me to drive you away from them now, just say the word. I'll even run a bastard over on the way," said Barbara hurriedly. "Only one of them, though. So you'll have to take your pick."
You let out a halfhearted laugh, wincing as you reached with your other hand to pat Barbara's, forcing a smile. "You're too good to me, Babs. But, it's nothing like that."
"Alright, darling. But, if you ever need a hand..."
"I know, I know," you assured, squeezing her hand gently before undoing your seatbelt. "I'll give you a shout."
You let Ross help you out of the car, giving Barbara a wave before making it up the stairs. Joseph held the door open for both of you, staring at the ground and looking more stressed and tense than you’d ever seen him. It was terrifying, even if you knew a lot of it probably wasn’t directed at you. It was hard to think straight, hard to comprehend what was what. Ross looked down at you as your breathing sped up, squeezing your hand.
“He’s not anywhere near as annoyed at you as you think,” whispered Ross as you passed Joseph, him locking the door as you went into the living room. “He’s probably more annoyed at himself. You know what he can be like.”
This was, unfortunately, true. Things often went so right for Joseph because he knew how to get what he wanted. So, when things went wrong, he took it to heart. You’d hardly thought about how he must be feeling, and you felt a bit of the guilt dissipate as the urge to tell Joseph that this wasn’t his fault took over. Your mind was cloudy as Ross led you into his pristine kitchen, helping you onto a cold metal stool in front of the island.
"Just going to get some bits to clean you up," said Ross, dropping his loose grip on your hand to go to the bathroom and dig for a first aid box.
“Just gonna get the first aid box,” said Ross, pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting go of your hand.
Luckily, or unluckily, you had a good hoard of medical supplies from Ross’s encounters with Pauline and Joseph’s more dangerous jobs. You’d never had it used on yourself, but, here you were.
Joseph silently made his way into the kitchen, moving so slowly that anyone would swear he was the one who’d been beaten. He stopped to pour three glasses of cold water from the jug Ross kept in the fridge, leaving them in the worktop and then leaning against it with a heavy sigh. You debated what to say, if it was even worth saying anything. You debated until you couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
"I'm sorry I fucked it up," you said quietly, hoping that Joseph would hear you. You couldn't bear to repeat yourself.
Joseph turned instantly, any rage completely absent from his face as he looked at you with wide, adoring eyes. You crumbled in the spot, bursting into tears. Joseph rushed over, pulling you carefully into his chest and trying to avoid putting too much pressure on your injured collarbone.
“Don’t be daft. Shouldn’t have let you do it. I didn’t know that bastard would be there,” said Joseph, hand carding through your hair as he spoke. He was clearly fuming, you weren’t sure who with, but it certainly wasn’t you. You felt like you could breathe again. “It won’t be happening again.”
"I can live with that," you laughed halfheartedly, sniffling as you buried your head in the crook of his neck. You pressed a kiss there, exhaling and letting yourself relax.
The moment of peace didn’t last as Ross came out of the bathroom with the first aid kit. He dumped it down in the kitchen island right next to you, looking slightly unsure of himself as he opened it and began to rifle through the supplies.
“Now, I haven’t dealt with a collarbone before…”
Joseph chuckled weakly, pressing a brief kiss against your temple before moving closer to Ross, laying a hand against the small of his back and nudging him away from the kit. “Alright, love. Let me sort it. You can do the hand holding because cleaning this is going to hurt like a motherfucker.”
Ross scrunched his nose at the thought as if he was the one who was going to feel the pain. Then again, you would be squeezing the life out of his hand shortly, so you supposed it was appropriate. You smiled weakly, leaning into Ross’s side as he intertwined your fingers.
"You nervous?" asked Ross.
"Terrified," you admitted. "Can you help me take my top off?"
"What?!" exclaimed Ross, dropping your hand and stepping back. "We're not... not now? Surely not?"
"The cut, darling. Easier to get to without my top in the way," you explained, an amused smirk on your lips at the look of shock on Ross's face.
A look of relief washed over him, and then his familiar glare came back as Joseph sniggered at him. Nevertheless, Ross helped you, apologising profusely as you winced when he moved your arm on the side of your injury. It couldn't be helped, but the pain made you nauseous. You were beginning to worry that this could warrant a hospital visit.
"Right," began Joseph, turning to face you with a damp cotton wool pad. "Gonna clean up the cut. You're going to hate me for this."
"I could nev- OH, you fucking twat! What the fuck? Why would you fucking do that?!" you exclaimed, grip deathly tight on Ross's hand as Joseph dabbed your cut clean. He was being careful, not pressing anymore than necessary, but that didn’t stop the burn.
"Sorry, sorry. Just a little bit more," said Joseph, giving it a final wipe over. It looked much cleaner than it did, and luckily it hadn’t long stopped bleeding. "That's the worst part done."
"You're doing really well," complimented Ross, the hand that wasn't holding yours now rubbing soothing circles against your back. "My hand is going numb, though."
"I really don't have it in me to care right now," you said, eyes still squeezed shut as you deeply inhaled and then exhaled, trying to calm yourself from the aftershocks of the pain. God, you'd rather get hit again than feel that. "I love you, but if I'm suffering, so are you."
"That's reasonable," shrugged Ross. "So, if that’s mutual, do you want to come and meet Pauli—“
"Fuck off," you interrupted, not wanting to be anywhere near the devious woman for your safety and hers. “You can take Joseph instead."
"Yes. I'll kill her if you want," replied Joseph in a way that was so casual it almost concerned you. It was hard to tell if he was joking, but you doubted it.
"Oh! Yeah, are we going to talk about the fact you were carrying a gun earlier?" asked Ross matter of factly, speaking your mind. It had slipped both of your minds at the time, but neither of you had ever seen it before. You hoped he wasn’t getting into more trouble than what you knew of.
"Nope," said Joseph innocently, turning to face you both with a pack of Steri-Strips in hand. "I don't always bring it. Just when I'm like, I dunno, fucking nervous or something."
"Aww, were you worried about me?" you cooed teasingly, reaching to caress his cheek. Joseph swerved his head away from you, glaring.
"Yes, and for good fucking reason obviously!" exclaimed Joseph, shaking his head slightly. You could tell he was just a bit stressed with the whole situation, so you didn't take it to heart. "Ross, can you help me a minute? Just pinch the cut closed while I stick these down."
Ross grimaced, because admittedly, he was kind of awful with blood. Nevertheless, he obliged, letting go of your hand to reach for the wound. He kept his other hand on the small of your back, trying to ground you as Joseph stuck the Steri-Strips across the wound. It was fairly painless, and when that was done, he placed a gauze pad over it, sticking it down with medical tape.
"Right, you're going to want to knock me out for this, but I'm going to feel around and see if anything’s broken," explained Joseph carefully as he positioned his hands around the gauze. "Ross, you might have to sacrifice your hand again, love."
Ross breathed deeply, but obliged, slipping his hand into yours again. You squeezed before Joseph even touched you, terrified of the pain that was about to come. Joseph pressed down, and instantly you cried out, instinctively moving your spare hand to push him away. Joseph caught you before you could, apologising profusely as he held it tightly, using his spare hand to feel around. You cried, burying your head in Ross's shoulder and trying to breathe through the brutal ache.
Joseph finally stopped, leaning forward and cradling your head to his chest as you tried to calm your sobs. He ran his fingers through your hair soothingly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. He mumbled an apology that you could hardly focus on.
"Nothing feels broken which is a fucking relief," said Joseph, carefully stepping back and guiding you to lean against Ross. You were exhausted, reaching your hand up to wipe at your tears and you took a few deep breaths. "Just bruised as fuck. We’ll chuck some ice on it and I’ll get a sling later. Anywhere else hurting?”
Your headache had remained, but there was no external pain from where you had collided with the wall. It was more the throwing around after the bang that made your head continue to spin, but even that pain had been on the back-burner until you just thought about it.
"Nothing a paracetamol can't fix," you said. Ross, dutiful as ever, walked off straight away to get you some.
Joseph took both your hands in his, extending your arms out in front of him and looking at the few scratches that Emily had given you. They weren't bad at all, a few deep ones here and there, but nothing that needed anywhere near as much treatment as your collarbone had.
"I'll just wipe your arms down with antiseptic wipes, okay?"
"You're making an enemy out of me," you said. Joseph laughed. "I'm serious. You're my next fight."
"Don't even joke about a next fight," lectured Joseph, laying your hands flat on the table with your arms still extended as he ripped open a packet of wipes. "I'd like Ross to keep both of his hands, and he can't do that if you're squeezing the shit out of them, can he?"
"I suppose not," you sighed, staring across the kitchen at Ross as he searched through his drawers, “I quite like his hands."
"They're good," hummed Joseph, gently wiping your arms down. You thanked God that it didn't hurt as much as the gash on your collarbone had. "Very skilled."
"You're very skilled," you said, watching him with furrowed brows. "How do you know all this stuff? About, you know, how to tell if something as niche as a collarbone is broken?"
"It's been my entire life," admitted Joseph. He sounded somewhat nostalgic, crumpling the wipes and tossing them into the bin as he smiled softly at you. "You can't really go to the hospital and say you've cut your leg trying to jump over someone's wall to rob them blind. Or you've broken your wrist in a fight that you started."
"I'm sorry," you frowned, "That sounds shit."
"It's a bit shit, but as is life," chuckled Joseph, sounding unbothered. It was his reality, and it had been for a long time. It wasn't something he was necessarily proud of, but it was just the way things were for now. "But, if I didn't learn all of that shit, where would we be right now? If I never got involved in the business? If I was never a vicious little bastard?"
You frowned for a second. "That's too complex of a question for my brain to comprehend right now."
"Alright, love," laughed Joseph. He busied himself packing away the first aid kit, giving you time to tug your shirt back on and have a rest from antiseptics.
Ross came over with paracetamol and one of the glasses of water Joseph had poured. He also had a sling tucked under his arm that he’d managed to find. He had it a while ago after one of many altercations with Pauline, and the sight of it almost pissed you off. You let Ross help you put it on, instantly exhaling in relief at the repositioning of your arm as it took the strain from your collarbone.
“Thank you,” you said, standing from the stool. Your legs almost gave out beneath you, and you grabbed the island to steady yourself. “I don’t know what I’d do without you both.”
"Well, you'd not be in this fucking mess, I can tell you that."
"Joseph, don't," protested Ross, resting a hand on his shoulder with a deep frown. "We can talk about what happened in the morning if we really need to. I mean, I'm happy to just forget about it and never, ever do it again. But, if you feel the need..."
"No, no. You're right. We'll leave it," agreed Joseph, but the look of guilt didn't quite leave his face. He looked smaller than ever, barely able to meet either of your eyes as he spoke, "I just- I worry sometimes that I'm going to get both of you into trouble. Now it's happened and I-"
"I practically forced my way into this. Please don't put all of this on yourself," you said, reaching your hand out to cup Joseph’s cheek. Your heart warmed as he melted into your touch. "We'll call it our own collective fuck-up and move on, okay?"
"I mean I didn't really do anything, but, yes. I agree," said Ross, feigning an offended look when you glared in his direction. "Our own collective fuck-up. Now can we please just get changed and, I dunno, sleep or something?"
You sighed in relief, "God, please."
The three of you went your separate ways, until you needed to steal one of Ross's oversized jumpers so that you could leave your arm beneath it instead of going through the trouble of removing the sling. He helped you put it on, and ten minutes later, the three of you were huddled on the sofa. Joseph sat between you, leaving your injured arm free so that neither of them could accidentally nudge it.
Ross rested his head on Joseph's shoulder, and Joseph held your hand in his. Together, you sat and watched the TV until you all fell asleep, letting the chaos of the day wash away into the night.