#Gunny I love you

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Muffled Perceptions

Muffled Perceptions is a fic by the illustrious @bellygunnr who did such a kick ass job that more people should be aware of it.

You can read it here on tumblr or here on ao3 - check out all of his writing, it is brilliant.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

no they're bad but there's small bits of meat we can pick from them

the star trek (2009) movies are like, okay, but for some reason they turn me into an unhinged person

[churchandstateofbeing]

sometimes love is watching someone lose all of the money your boss gave you for chefs tools at a casino and then immediately volunteering to lose a bunch of your own items in exactly the same way just because he’s convinced you that it’s a good idea

[natjennie]

the best part of d20 is when you can tell their influence is bleeding into each other through seasons like. try to tell me barry jumping off the edge and rocketing through tiers of rec 97 isnt the EXACT same thing as kristen ribbon rappelling down the side of the tower and breaking her legs in sophomore year like. it's the same picture.

[slyandthefamilybook]

[zincbot]

thinking about gunnie.

leaving his successful academic life to chase a dream, and failing. for perhaps the first time in his life. and suddenly he's under more debt than can be paid off in 5 lifetimes. his body is completely changed, and he's abandoned.

instead of going home, gunnie keeps going. he spends years learning how to work through failure, how to run, how to cobble together tacyon drive equations on a crumbling ship. nights spent doing kids homework for pennies, laying on his cot, metal heated by the too-close reactor.

and he never calls home. he was a golden child. a savant, wunderkind. and his body, his debts, all of it stacks in irrefutable evidence for his failures.

gunnie is a gambler. and he would rather keep digging then let anyone see him in the hole.

[picklesinabottle]

I LOVE a starstruck oddessy. It is physically painful how bad they are at coming up with lies.

[magnaflourious-nerdity]

i wanna watch Clue with you and overwrite the memory of the last time i watched it which was with my horrible ex

I mean if you wanted we could probably do that right now. I would love to help eradicate that dickhead from your memory. I don't know much about it, but fuck that dude. You deserve to enjoy one of Tim Curry's top 3 Master pieces!! Youdeserve to se Madeline khan chewing up the scenery!! You deserve it all!! And if you want to fucking kill a bro or commit some light arson over it I'm your gal.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Homebodies

An artfight attack on @bellygunnr! Knight Rider but make them lesbians. Takes place after the episode "Halloween Knight". Also on ao3

-

Devon had been quite upset that Bonnie was so keen on staying at the apartment after the murder had come to light. In some ways it made sense, why stay in an apartment that had so many bad memories? Why stay where she was unsure of herself? 

The same question was why she needed distance from the Knight Foundation. She needed space, to think, to breathe, to consider her next step. It was her choice. He didn’t push after their conversation but she could see how his eyes examined the bags under hers – hear the strain in her voice. Bonnie was tired of it all. Tired of the nightmares, tired of the Foundation getting its claws into her work. Tired of the strange guilt of watching Michael –resurrected and sent out again and again with KITT– only for them both to limp back to their broken home to lick their wounds. And have her fix them up to send them back out into danger.

So Bonnie left. 

The apartment slowly became more like a home. Her effects scattered about in what one could describe as on purpose or fashionable – if they only had half working eyes. She was an engineer, so order came in the form of controlled chaos. Only her tools were organized by job, size, and color on what in most places would be a dining table. Hers was littered with fine tweezers, a wrench and oil stained cloth, and magnified glasses for the intricate work of creating a mind from metal.

The more personal belongings she owned were in her room, which was still incredibly spartan. Her degrees, some books, an old blanket, and her clothes still half unpacked. Her apartment walls were blank and sounds echoed eerily sometimes, but she was still settling in. There was a postcard Michael had insisted was KITT's idea on her fridge. Next to it was a shopping list in Michael’s messy scrawl as well, from the last time she dropped by to play house and check up on Bonnie.

Michael Knight had gasped at the state of her fridge as all 6'4 of her gangly frame squeezed into Bonnie’s tiny kitchen and rummaged through her barren shelves. She was so upset by her pantry that she called KITT on her watch as a witness. KITT was kind enough to side with Bonnie for a moment before Michael went on a tirade and uttered an aggressive “okay pal!” into her wrist.

So sue her! She'd gotten busy and hadn't been shopping in a week! Bonnie had heavier things weighing on her mind, and didn’t need Michael swaggering in, oozing saccharine charm and worrying about her with her voice all low and quiet. Genuine concern coming from Michael rankled her, and she wished the older woman didn’t get under her skin so much. Still, it was a sight to see her back in her apartment. Michael had nearly smacked her head as she emerged from the fridge and part of her almost wished she would.

She appeared alien in Bonnie’s apartment, bringing too much movement and life into her empty, haunted space. Out of place and on her nerves, Michael would only temporarily be cowed by her expression. Bonnie had gotten annoyed at her latest escapades and how damaged she'd gotten KITT on the Foundation's business. Then she had the nerve to look hurt and started whining about how she'd done his best. Bonnie fixed her with a look when she had set her hands on her hips and glared back at her for all of two seconds before she turned tail and scampered off back into the kitchen. 

KITT’s voice carried from Michael’s watch, but all Bonnie could make out was “-a tactical retreat, yes, of course, Michael.”

There had been a quiet cacophony of noise from the tiny galley kitchen and the whispered mutterings of scheming going on, but Bonnie was too tired to investigate or play host to the spectacle that was Michael Knight. She had made her comments and left sometime after Bonnie resettled at the table and gotten busy with her work. 

The apartment had quieted again and Bonnie tried not to hate herself for hating it. 

She failed then, and she failed at not hating herself for the joy she felt when Michael returned with her arms full of brown paper bags overflowing with groceries. Bonnie hadn’t been able to react beyond a startled look as Michael stumbled in like a wounded gazelle with a wild look in her eyes. Her hair was wild and the lines on her face crinkled as she beamed at Bonnie. Some inane one-liner was on her lips and Bonnie’s only saving grace was that the bottom of the bags were giving out so Michael had to flee into the kitchen instead of delivering it. And Bonnie hated that she missed the sound of her voice.

It wouldn't do to dwell on it. Michael was a stray cat coming to her for attention and affection in the form of their spats while Bonnie patched up her or KITT. Lanky, scarred, and overly friendly, one might think she didn’t know any better, but Michael was fiercely loyal once she decided you were worth her time.

That thought caused a tightness in Bonnie’s chest and she decided to ignore it and get back to her latest project. It was still one that benefited Michael, but at least she could turn her thoughts toward KITT instead. She lost herself in her work quickly enough at her table-turned-workstation when she was once again interrupted by Michael.

Bonnie had noticed her swagger in with something in her hands out of the corner of her eye, but ignored her. She knew to wait or ignore Michael. If she needed something, she’d make it known – one way or another. Then, proving Bonnie right, in typical Michael Knight fashion, she cleared her throat and waited for Bonnie’s response as she looked all too pleased with herself. It was only then that Bonnie realized she smelled something delicious and that her stomach realized too and roared its anger at her ignorance of her own needs.

Michael just stood there, grin on her face, hip cocked to the side, and a kitchen towel over her shoulder as plates of food steamed in his hands. Her hair was haloed by the fluorescents on the ceiling and her eyes crinkled as her smile broadened. The tightness returned and Bonnie’s throat had to remember how words worked.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You're a rocket scientist, can't you put it together?” Michael sauntered closer with the plates. Bonnie could tell the towel on her shoulder was new. How much had she gotten at the store?

Bonnie had glared up at her and the smug bastard had just continued grinning with only the tiniest crack in her cool facade. She set the food down a polite distance from Bonnie’s work and straddled the chair opposite her in the most inelegant way. It was like watching a deer slide on ice and not fall, but only barely. Her focus shifted when she aggressively stabbed at the food, breaking her reverie.

“I didn't have any sausage.” She said intelligently as she stared down at the food. Bonnie didn't have the energy or mental processing power to pick at her.

“You didn't have any milk, eggs, or bread either, but me and KITT fixed that.” Michael shook her head as she talked. Grinning at her, egging her on. The same song and dance they would play at the Foundation’s workshop except now in the sterile fluorescent of her half-empty apartment. An apartment that was warmed by the mere thought of Michael stopping by to crash on the couch.

A smile nearly formed on Bonnie’s face, but she tamped down the urge. “I’m not a rocket scientist. I’m an engineer.”

“Apologies.” Michael responded, in what was a terrible impression of KITT’s accent. “I do hope breakfast for dinner is suitable for you as an engineer. Us regular folks eat at 24 hour diners and miss the grease sometimes.”

At the mention of grease, Bonnie remembered to wipe her hands on a rag on the table before she grabbed the cutlery. The food was good, she thought. She was not impressed. It was just a nice, if overblown gesture for Michael to make eggs, sausage, pancakes, and hashbrowns.

“You got a lil–” Michael reached for her, and to both of their surprise, Bonnie let her. 

Let her warm fingertips wipe the smudge of grease off her cheek, right below her eye. Let the small moment pass with a lingering touch that felt like a brand. 

“Thank you.” Bonnie said, much too quietly.

Michael sat back and grinned again. She never seemed to stop smiling when Bonnie was looking at her. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Both of them hungrier than they realized. The sun had long since set. Bonnie eyed Michael’s bag by the door, sitting there like a dog unsure if it was welcome. She cleared her throat and sipped some water to buy herself some time.

Michael had whipped her head up at the sound of Bonnie’s voice. Her eyes wide and eager. Her whole body tense in faux nonchalance.

“I want to work on KITT tomorrow.” Bonnie started.

Michael deflated ever so slightly, but hid it well as she leaned her chin on her hand.

“Are you staying the night or will I need to find you at some motel?” Bonnie asked, less heat than she wanted. The barb slid harmlessly off Michael as her grin grew and she stood to clear their dishes from the table.

“I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome–” Bonnie snorted a laugh “--but if you want me to stay…”

“Watch it, Knight.” Bonnie said as she watched Michael slink into the kitchen again. It was becoming a familiar sight. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Michael saluted from around the corner, “Wouldn’t dream of any funny business. Not in front of Dr. Barstow.”

Bonnie groaned and threw a screwdriver in her direction. Michael laughed as she ducked and it clattered harmlessly on the linoleum. 

“I do so enjoy your sleepovers, but please keep it down. Some of us are trying to get some sleep.” KITT called from Michael’s watch.

[mudskip-muses]

He knows this man… It feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

It’s a face Kazuichi has seen before— along with those the stranger had called family —features that had been twisted with fear now contorted with rage as the attacker haphazardly swung at the mechanic, a blade gripped in his bloody fist. Barely managing to dodge, breath quickens with a panic that grips Kaz’s mind. Kazuichi knew he should have made sure they were all dead. He KNEW it. Why hadn’t he? Why did he leave that man breathing, when the mechanic hadn’t offered the same mercy to those the stranger begged him to spare. Did he want to reveal in the despair of knowing he left the man with nothing to live for?

Did he want the sliver of hope that in due time, he might meet his own end at the hands of someone he wronged?

Blood drips down his arm from where he was already struck, staining his sleeve in a hot and sticky sensation. Stomach churns at the scent, nerves screaming from the pain. Vision blurred with tears, he chokes back the wretched whimpers clawing at his throat. Run. He needs to RUN… He doesn’t want to die anymore. Not like THIS. Breathing raggedly, Kaz stumbles over a break in the concrete, knees and arms scraped as he falls; already exhausted from lack of rest, his lungs beg for air. Things haven’t been kind the past few days, for either he or Gundham….

Gundham. Where is Gundham??

It’s a constant thought, even as Kaz tries to flee for his life, struggling to stand in his haste. The world in ruins around them, a disaster had struck— no doubt the work of people resisting the change, clashing with those who succumbed to Despair, numbers growing by the day —filling the air with enough smoke to blind and choke, buildings collapsing and streets blown apart. He had lost sight of Gundham in the ensuing chaos, realization gripping Kazuichi with enough force to make him see spots. He needed to find him. He NEEDED to find him. He can’t not find him. He can’t NOT know where Gundham is.

Not again. Not again not again not again NOT AGAIN-

Crying out as a jolt of pain shoots through his leg, he falls down with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. Coughing, he shakily tries to stand, only to collapse once more. His leg. What’s wrong with—? Wide eyes look at the knife lodged deep within, hastily thrown by his assailant but sticking true to its target. In a panic, Kazuichi tries to rip it free, blinding pain stopping him from moving it more than an inch or two before his fingers release. Gritting his teeth with frustration, he tries once more, screaming as the same thing happens; his trembling grip letting go before he can do more than let a few more trails of blood drip down the wound. No. Not like this. He can’t— He’s not allowed.

Gundham had said— Only he can… Only— … Crawling away, dragging his leg limply behind him, Kaz stops when he finds his path blocked by debris. Back resting against the wall of destruction, he struggles to catch his breath as the hunter approaches. Steps are slow, the other man obviously exhausted as well. But fury carries him forward, eyes wild with the need for vengeance against the mechanic, and his prey now injured and cornered for him to do as he pleases. Jagged blade hangs tightly in his grasp, already slick with blood… Tears streaking down his face, Kazuichi trembles like a caught rabbit. Shame overwhelming him at how pathetic he must look. How pathetic he IS. Even now in this world, indulging in a false sense of power over others, he is reminded of how worthless he really is. Nothing to no one.

Aside from— … A deeply ingrained instinct screams from within, filling Kazuichi with a self-loathing so strong he’s nearly tempted to let death take him. But selfishness overpowers this desire, for either salvation or for his name to be the last thing on Kazuichi’s lips. Either way, in his moment of need, with nothing to cling to but the hope that he’ll be heard despair of knowing how futile it all is, Kazuichi screams out for the one person who could help him. The one person who could make anything okay. The one person who, no matter how wretched the world or how impossible the task, had said he’d always be there. Would always COME BACK.

❝ GUNDHAM! ❞

Screaming that name so loud that his throat feels raw, voice breaking with emotion unleashed— terror and desperation and the belief that he’ll be HEARD —Kazuichi closes his eyes and huddles against the concrete wall as far as he can, as if trying to buy Gundham any spare second he can. Any space between him and his attacker feeling like he’s helping the breeder arrive in time… because he’s going to come. Just like he did before Kaz even knew to expect him— curled up on the ground, beaten and bloodied by those jerks from school —and like he continued to after Kaz learned that he would.

Gundham will save him.

That’s what Guardian Angels do. - (( *yeets a Despair!Boi in Trouble ))

@not-bcring

In another life, Gundham may have been worried when Kazuichi disappeared from his sight amongst the rubble of what was once a town, the sound of frantic footfalls to echo about the crumbling buildings instead of the slow canter the breeder strode in as he looked for animals to rescue took in the devastation around him after the most recent catastrophe. It was the first moment of relative quiet they had had in a few days now, with seekers of hope looking to strike them all down. Now that this town had been taken in by despair they were as good as safe, though what that meant he didn't know anymore, which was why Gundham wasn't worried about finding Kazuichi. He wasn't allowed to be worried anymore. He would find his way back in his own time, and if Gundham's pace were to suddenly quicken, it was because he was growing tired of the ruin, the smell of smoke and blood and misery not as exciting when one had been walking through it for so very long.

Everything seemed to stop though, as his name echoed about the rubble, the breeder's blood running cold as he took off in its direction without hesitation, a deeply ingrained part of him still needing to protect Kazuichi from harm no matter how much of it they enacted onto each other. In a place where there would have been worry, fear for the mechanic's safety, it was now replaced with anger, Gundham almost able to feel the spiral of madness behind his eyes as he ran.

Kazuichi was his, only Gundham could hurt him, only Gundham could kill him even if they both knew it would never happen. Kazuichi had once called him an angel, his guardian when the world got cruel, what a sickening twist of irony that it was still true with all they had done...

Rounding a corner, the breeder was able to catch the unmistakable splash of color against the dim backdrop of chaos, the despair holding his mind twisting every emotion that flashed through him, both good and bad, into a volatile, blinding rage. He couldn't say what happened after that, the sight of those colors that had once brought life to his world now stained with blood burning into his vision, and the vague register of his own voice, cold and unfeeling as he approached the one who dared.

"His life doesn't belong to you."

The scene was brutal, bloody, this possibly being the first man Gundham had killed with his own hands since all this began, normally letting such a curse honor fall to his animal companions. By the time he was through, the man was...well, one could hardly call him a man anymore. Had anyone been left for him in this world, they wouldn't have any hope of identifying him now...

Rising from the carcass with his chest heaving, Gundham's rage was suddenly turned to Kazuichi, his bloody hands gripping at the front of the mechanic's jumpsuit to pin him to the rumble he first sought protection from. "Are you a fool?! A coward?! What use are you to me if you do not fight those who seek to do you harm." A part of him was screaming, that one little bit that kept him going through this nightmare, that kept him from killing Kazuichi, but the very same that had killed his mother in a mercy. "I grow tired of saving you." The words burned as he said them, the breeder's body shaking as if it was trying to fight off what he was forced to feel. "I should leave you here to die."

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Our joint custody cat

Napkin....

EVERYONE LOOK AT OUR CAT NAPKIN NOW!!!!!!!!

[kurokawaia]

❛ DADZAI?? ❜

DAD!Dazai Osamu X MUM!Reader

WC: 1k+ | WARNINGS: x fem reader, reader is a mother, dazai is a father, you both have a daughter, ooc dazai? + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅���𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: hihihi!!! this idea has been stuck in my head for the longest time, And I absolutely love ur writing style!!!!!!!! So I’m wondering if it’s possible for you to write a dadzai x fem!reader and he has a little daughter!! Thank u!!! - ANON

m.list | bsd m.list

Dazai would be the ultimate playful dad. He'd constantly come up with games to entertain his daughter, he'd let her win every time! he doesn't love to see his little princess sad, he wants her happy all the time. No tears around here!

Dazai’s teasing extends to both you and your daughter. He’d affectionately poke fun at the little things, like when his daughter mispronounces words or when you’re caught being overly serious.

Dazai is very protective of the both of you, your his only family, your his wife, and she's his daughter. He makes sure everything is secure, he doesn't want either of you in danger, he's always looking out for the threats, especially considering what his last job was.

Dazai would constantly shower his daughter with affection, but in the most chaotic way possible. Imagine him picking her up and spinning her around until she’s dizzy with laughter, or carrying her on his shoulders >.<

After your daughter goes to bed, Dazai loves having lovey-dovey moments with you, kissing you, hugging you, teasing you, having sex with you, he loves you all.

Dazai always be thinking of spontaneous adventures to take you and your daughter on (yes he will avoid work by doing this, he's hitting two birds with one stone) loves to watch his little girl play on the playground, making sandcastles but he glares at any boys who goes up to her.

Protective Dazai! GLARES AT THE LITTLE BOYS WHO WALK UP TO HIS LITTLE PRINCESS 😭🙏🏼

Dazai’s attempts at teaching his daughter important life lessons would often be... unorthodox. He’d tell her bizarre metaphors or use strange examples... when she's older, in her teen years, she starts talking about a double suicide as well...

When his daughter comes home with school projects or arts and crafts, Dazai gets surprisingly into it. He’d help her build the most elaborate school project.

As much as he wants to shelter his daughter, Dazai also believes in giving her independence to explore the world. He trusts that with both of your guidance, she’ll grow into someone independent.

BEDTIME STORIES!! DAZAI LOVES PULLING GUNNY VOICES WHILE READING HIS PRINCESS A STORY! He’d act out characters, make exaggerated voices, and then cuddle up with her until she falls asleep, her tiny hand clutching his 🥺

Dazai and your daughter would often conspire against you in the cutest of ways, like pretending to plan a prank or plotting a surprise just to make you laugh.

Now.... Beast!Dazai as a father...

Dazai would soften in front of his daughter, would absolutely never get mad, never yell, none of that. He is incredibly protective of the both of you, almost to the point where he is paranoid because he's scared something might happen to you and his little princess.

Though he’s a feared man in the underworld, when he’s home, he’s a completely different person with his daughter. He’ll play peek-a-boo, help her chase butterflies, and allow her to style his hair (which is why he often has bows or clips in his hair when you come home)

He’s big on teaching his daughter how to read people and situations. Even from a young age, he’ll subtly point out things like body language, tone of voice, and how to trust her instincts. He wants her to be sharp and never get hurt, he doesn't want her to suffer in a world like his

Dazai spoils you both, bringing back gifts with him after missions, flowers, toys, all of that. He loves to see his girls happy.

On nights where he can’t sleep (which is often), you’ll find him in his daughter’s room, quietly watching her sleep (NOT IN A CREEPY WAY LAMFOBSOJBVLS) Sometimes, he’ll hum lullabies from his childhood to soothe himself as much as his daughter.

You are the one person who keeps Dazai grounded. While his daughter melts his heart, you provide him with emotional stability. He’ll confide in you about his fears of failing as a father, or anything, because he knows you're there to help him, to help him do teh right things, reassure him, telling him that he's doing the best.

Dazai trains his daughter in self defense. He doesn't want her involved in the mafia, he just wants her to be able to protect herself. He only does it when his pretty wifey isn't home though... he doesn't want to get scolded for you catching him teaching her how to wield and shoot a gun

Family nights every night! Dazai never knows when his last night will be so he makes you eat together, watch a movie, reading a story to his daughter every night without a fail because he chesrishes these moments so much.

Dazai isn’t big on over-the-top displays of affection in public, but when it’s just you and him, he’ll wrap his arms around you, especially when he’s feeling vulnerable. He’ll kiss your forehead or play with your hair.

Dazai would raise his daughter to be independent. He’ll often praise her when she tries to solve problems on her own, even if it’s just something as small as putting her toys away. He wants her to grow up capable, strong enough so a man doesn't need to provide for her (even if shes an adult, dazai will never approve of a man with her)

Though Dazai is laid-back around you, once his daughter starts showing affection to other male figures, whether it's an innocent crush or just bonding with a friend, he’ll get hilariously overprotective. You’d have to reassure him that his little girl isn’t going anywhere 😭🙏🏼

He has a habit of giving his daughter cute nicknames, princess, my little girl, my little princess!

Dazai occasionally fears that he won’t be a good father because of his past and the world he’s still involved in. But you remind him that he’s doing his best, and the love he has for both you and his daughter is more than enough to prove he’s a great dad.

Dazai has a hidden soft spot for his family (obviously). You often catch him staring at both of you with a soft, almost melancholic smile, as if he can’t believe he’s found something so pure and worth protecting.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[scalpho]

gunnie's relationship with skip/norman is truly so unbelievably absurd and nonsensical in its progression and yet it's also pretty fucking good. the "you're a coward" and gunnie's response in ep1 vs "you're not a coward" / "i know" in the epilogue was insane. gunnie becoming a kind of second pilot is incredibly endearing. but then sometimes i remember the scene from early in the season where gunnie's trying to stop skip from eating a napkin. and i think about gunnie's initial reluctant resignation to being declared skip's son vs him later introducing skip as his dad (to people who KNOW his fathers, mind you) and deliberately imitating his audible smile. and i think about how completely out of the blue the whole son thing was in the first place. axmurph live reactions pictured below for reference

i love point b. but how the fuck we got from point a to point b is beyond me

[thisisnotthenerd]

had a weird thought while going through the spreadsheet and wanted to get some opinions.

this isn’t supposed to just be i want another season with these characters, but straight up i want to see them at level 20. like a oneshot.

feel free to reblog with your answer and reasoning in the tags—i’d love to see why you chose a particular party.

[ask-a-wooper-n-mew]

How adorable!! Thank you! <333

Cursed AU

[ @ask-a-wooper-n-mew; @sendinganew ]

Bonus: Athena and Anew use Transform to RiMew.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Death of Me

It was official. You were going to murder your husband. How many times had you told him to be careful. To not put himself in harms way anymore than absolutely necessary. He’d always tell you not to worry while giving you that damn smile that had you believing every word he said. And now you were rushing to the hospital for the second time in the month because of a phone call letting you know that Jethro had been hurt.

Tim met you in the hospital lobby, bypassing the check in and you both entered the elevators.

“How bad is it Tim?”

“Well he’s recovered from worse but you’ll definitely need to keep him from overdoing it for a few days.”

You gave him a look before speaking. “Yeah. And I’ll teach him to speak Mandarin while I’m at it.”

Tim led you out of the elevators and down the hall to his room but stopped you before you headed in.

“Just a heads up. Since he came out of surgery, he’s been a little out of it. I think the Morphine is really kicking his ass.”

“Hm. Well better that than me. Thanks Tim.”

You gave him a grateful hug and walked into the dim hospital room. As soon as your eyes fell on him, all anger dissipated. He was asleep, shirtless and left shoulder bandaged up. His face was relaxed and breaths steady, letting you know he was genuinely getting some good rest.

Not wanting to wake him up, you quietly brought a chair over and settled in it before gently taking his hand in yours. Of course even a morphine induced nap couldn’t keep him from his hypersensitive senses as he stirred, eyes fluttered open. He looked around the room before his sapphire blue eyes fell on you and stared a second before chucking to himself.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, amused.

“My wife is gonna kill me.”

He might not have recognized you in his state of delirium but at least he knew he had a wife. You decided to play along, not seeing the hurt.

“Oh yeah? Because you’re in the hospital for the 2nd time this month due to your over brazen behavior?” you tried hinting, wondering if it would bring back some lucidity.

“Nope. Because you’re holding my hand. And she haaates when other women touch me.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle. “Well she probably just loves you too much to share you with anyone else.”

He nodded and let go of your hand, placing it on his chest while taking a deep breath.

“Yeah. She loves me. Even when I don’t deserve it..She’s great..I wish she was here..”

Your heart broke at his melancholy words, not wanting him to think you wouldn’t show up to visit and couldn’t help but reach out to touch his arm.

“Jethro. I’m your wife.”

“Right. And I’m the king of Shri Lanka,” he joked.

There wasn’t much you could do if he wasn’t coherent enough so you settled for just sitting there next to him. After a couple of minutes he fell back asleep and you took the opportunity to take his hand in yours again.

————

“Y/N?” someone spoke, waking you out of your nap. You picked your head up from the side of Jethro’s bed and saw him looking at you in slight confusion.

“Hey Gunny,” you greeted lovingly, sitting up and grimacing at the stiffness.

“Have you been here the whole time? What time is it?”

“It’s around 6pm. You’ve been asleep since about this afternoon. Surgery went really well, I’m sure you’ll be up and chasing more bad guys again in the next couple weeks.”

You got up to pour him a cup of water as he went to try and lift his bad arm, wincing immediately, making you roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“I don’t care if I have to lock you in your basement for the next week Jethro but you’re going to let your shoulder heal properly,” you threatened, handing him the water.

“A week isn’t necessary-

You shut him down with a look that rivaled his own and he sighed in defeat.

“Oh by the way, do you remember talking with me earlier?” you asked curiously.

“No. What did I say?”

You laughed at the apprehension in his voice and took his empty cup to set it on the table.

“Well you had no idea who I was. And chastised me for touching you, saying your wife wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“Mm. I’d say that gets me a point in the honorable husband category,” he stated proudly.

You laughed and nodded. “You’re absolutely right. How about I make my famous Chicken Parm for us tonight?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do,” he responded with a small smile.

“Damn right you don’t.”

You gave him a well waited kiss and thanked the universe for the moment. You don’t know what you would do without him and you hope to never find out.