Support System - Robin, John Stoker

Vampires seem to have a compulsive need to seek out abandoned spaces. Robin thinks it’s probably because of a combination of their need to keep odd and frankly suspicious hours, and some sort of draw of dead natures to dead places.
And maybe, for some, the aesthetic.
Still, he wishes they could be dealing with a vamp in someplace other than a warehouse littered with chunks of old machinery and shards of broken glass. It’s distinctly uncomfortable for a fae, and when the vamp ambushes them from behind a half-crumbled stack of boxes and knocks John into a piece of the bottling equipment and Robin to a floor covered in bottles that have long ago shattered, it sucks even more.
Robin glances at John, who’s slid down the machine to the floor, apparently unconscious. That’s not good. Robin starts to stand up, to try to get in between John and the vamp, then winces at the stabbing pain in his thigh. He looks down and frowns.
It’s second nature to Robin to glamour the deep cut that the edge of one of the bottles slashed into his leg. His arm and shoulder are protected by his leather jacket, but his jeans haven’t stopped all the jagged shards. And a glamour can hide the visual evidence, but the blood is still there, coating his leg, and when the vampire whips around, eyes narrowing, nostrils flared, Robin knows he’s scented it.
Upside, blood will keep the vamp’s attention on me so he doesn’t go after John, and Kira and Cody and the backup team can take him down. He just hopes that happens sooner rather than later.
The vamp lunges toward Robin, then stops cold, clawed hand raised but frozen in midair, then falls back, twitching. Robin blinks, then sees that John is standing, leaning on the machinery but coiling his silver-laced whip back up to hang against his side. The rest of the team swarm the bottling floor a second later, glass crunching under booted feet as they cuff the vamp and haul him out.
Robin stumbles over to John about the same time a medic does. John waves off the concern, although the grimace and the way his hand moves to rub his back are telling Robin a different story. He glances quickly at the metal and gears behind John, but he doesn’t see any blood, at least.
Still, he knows when John’s hurting. The little lines of pain and the way he carries himself.
“You should go with them,” Robin insists.
“Only if you’ll go with me, kid.” John rests a hand gently on Robin’s shoulder. “You know I can see it.”
Robin swallows. It’s still easy to forget that he’s on a team with someone who can not only see through his glamour, but cares to know what’s underneath. Someone who wants to know what the damage is so they can take care of him.
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, I know it’s habit,” John says gently. “Now, I’ll go if you go. Sound good?”
Robin nods. John’s good at finding the best ways to use fae bargaining tactics without being cruelly manipulative. “Okay. I’ll go.”
“Perfect.” John reaches into his pocket for his keys, then grimaces. “On second thought, I think we should let them take us in.” He fishes the keys out anyway. “Kira can drive the Mustang back.”
Robin nods, then loops an arm over John’s shoulder and they walk out, supporting each other.