#also gonna do some fridge triage

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

gonna put off that return for now bc I've got 30 days to do it and just don't feel like it rn so instead I'm gonna focus on cleaning stuff around the kitchen bc even though the stovetop was a mess when mom and her lil bf left I really don't wanna get blamed for it

[suzukiblu]

brother

"Okay," Cassie says, and the two of them head into the kitchen together. She should definitely, definitely call somebody, but she still doesn't. "So the name thing . . . do you want one that actually means something, or just one that sounds cool, or . . . ?"

"I just want one," Not-Kon/Not-Match says with a shrug, opening the fridge and peering inside. "Not gonna be picky about the details, this is more about performing emergency emotional triage and asserting an individual identity and sense of self as quickly as possible than anything else." 

"Uh," Cassie says, just staring at him for a moment. "What?" 

"I might have some superhero-grade therapy technique uploads in my head," Not-Kon/Not-Match admits, pointing at his temple for a moment. "Which is probably a point for somebody not Tim making me, because I cannot imagine that dude's ever spoken to a single fucking therapist who wasn't either from Arkham or the victim of a crime. There's soba noodles and shrimp in here, how's that sound? Oh, and edamame." 

"I'm down with that," Cassie says. "Do you want any help?" 

"Do you know how to cook soba noodles?" he asks. "Or edamame?" 

"Honestly I didn't know you had to cook edamame at all," Cassie says. 

"Raw soy protein is poisonous," he says. 

". . . so yeah I'll just do the dishes when you're done, how's that," Cassie offers sheepishly. 

"Solid plan," he says, then points at the kitchen island. Cassie sits down on one of the barstools in front of it and pulls out her phone to start browsing, like, baby names sites or something. 

"All the really good names I know are Greek," she says. "Don't know any available Kryptonian ones, like I said. I thiiiiink Lex Luthor might be German but don't quote me on that and really, fuck that guy anyway."

"Yeah, I don't want anything to do with him," Not-Kon/Not-Match agrees, pulling a package of noodles and some weirdly random-seeming vegetables out of the fridge. "He already messed with and mind-controlled Kon, fuck if I wanna find out what he'd try and do to me." 

"'Conner' is an Irish name, apparently?" Cassie suggests as she skims search results, frowning consideringly at her phone. "As far as I know Kon only went by it because it sounds kinda like 'Kon-El' but I guess it's still an option." 

"Hm," Not-Kon/Not-Match says, frowning too. "Well, that's as good a place to start as any. Although you really don't have to think about it this hard, I really did mean it when I said I wasn't gonna be picky about this." 

"You're four hours old and your entire existence is a massive ethics violation," Cassie says, glancing up at him again. He's busy reading the back of the soba noodles' packaging, but still clearly listening to her. Hopefully that's a good sign, that he's been listening to her. "I am definitely gonna think about it this hard. Or do you want, like . . . a Tim-adjacent name, maybe? If he made you?"

"I don't know," Not-Kon/Not-Match says. "Him making me is still just my best guess and it might not be great for his secret ID either. Also I don't know if I hate him for making me yet or not, so I don't know if I want anything to do with him either." 

"Point," Cassie says, frowning again and trying another site. That . . . might be a problem, yeah. If Tim actually is currently messed up enough to deliberately make a whole entire person and also try to make that person Kon . . . 

Well, he's probably not gonna react well to said person not being Kon, for starters. Especially if said person also wants nothing to do with him. 

Gods, yeah, there's a horrible thought. 

Please just don't let this lead to Gun Batman, Cassie prays to herself. Please don't let that be where this situation is heading. 

"Hmmm," she says. "Well, either way Kon's still like, your brother, right? So it'd make sense to give you a name related to one of his."

"I don't really know," Not-Kon/Not-Match says thoughtfully as he sets up a pot of water on the stove and starts sorting through the vegetables on the counter to line them up next to the cutting board. "Although I guess he might've thought so? Apparently he called Match his brother when they first met. And, you know, I have a functioning concept of free will and I don't have any particular desire to murder him or his friends, so he probably would've liked me better than he liked Match. Then again, Kon's also already dead, so maybe I'd feel differently about the murder thing if he weren't? But if he weren't dead I wouldn't exist anyway, so . . . catch-22, maybe?" 

Cassie, again, is reminded that Not-Kon/Not-Match is still running the numbers on the supervillain thing. So . . . yeah. That is very much a thing, still. 

"Please tell me that your mental uploads told you that murder is bad," she says, eyeing him warily again. If they didn't, she and Tim are going to be having an even longer long talk than the one she's already planning. 

"They did," Not-Kon/Not-Match confirms. "They also told me that I was Kon, though, so I'm currently taking all their provided information with a grain of salt." 

Fuck everything, Cassie thinks with far too much feeling.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area

Warning: Not explicit (yet); some mild language. This has been quite cathartic in a way.

Summary: 29-year-old nurse Sarah Bernette has worked hard to get where she is. Moving to Boston from a nowhere dump of a town, she’s studied hard and is grateful her stress is finally paying off. Despite being fostered repeatedly throughout her childhood, she’s since found some comfort in the form of her adopted parents, Jocelyn and Noah, and a pseudo-adoptive family of sorts in form of the Evans clan who have treated her as one of her own ever since she moved in with best friend, Shanna. Valuing them above all else, she appreciates their support even more when her long lost birth mother decides to reappear in her life after so many years, and is surprised to find out just how supportive Chris is in particular. As she struggles to maintain a firm grip on both her professional and private lives, she finds an ill-advised solace in her growing mutual attraction with him but how long before everything unravels and threatens to pull the rug out from underneath her?

Note: I have two chapters written and will post ‘Chapter Two’ at some point this weekend to get things moving. I apologise for my spelling/grammar errors. Let me know if there is something wildly incorrect here and I’ll change it. Still figuring out a few things and I expect this will be a slow burn but it’s exciting to finally get off my arse and…sit down and write. 

CHAPTER ONE

Today was probably a 4 out of 10.

4.5 if she was feeling generous.

Sarah thought about the decisions she had made in the past decade that lead her right to this moment, this moment being cleaning neon-coloured vomit off her scrubs for the second time in the past hour.

“You would think people would have learned downing shots of Absinthe was not a great idea by the time they’d left their teens,” snickered Audrey before shooting her a sympathetic look and handing over another wipe. “I can’t believe how green it was. It looks like you got punked by the Marshmallow Man!”

“Thanks for that.” Sarah was scrubbing as hard as she could while internally questioning her decision to pursue Nursing all those years ago. Her History teacher once told her she could have “a decent stab” at becoming a Middle School teacher if she applied herself right. Right now, she could be knee-deep in teaching half-interested kids about the 27 Amendments without an ounce of sick in sight. Instead, she was baffled. “Fuck. It’s practically luminous…”

This must have been payback for pushing herself as a teenager. Being fostered in and out of care homes during your formative years could turn you one way or the other, and Sarah chose “the other”. She was sure the universe was telling her she should have stayed put and been happy with her lot in life, in her too-small town with no feasible job prospects, where everyone knew you and held that against you, instead of moving halfway across the country with next to no money to study at a University she couldn’t afford and would most likely be in debt to for the next twenty years. Now, however, she got to convince local drunks that climbing on to roofs was, in fact, not a great idea despite the bet they had made with their “friends”. On a good day, she got to help children pick out the colours for their plaster casts. 

Or take today. Today, she got to lecture a group of young people about the trials and tribulations of playing “run the bus” with 60% proof. Every day was just a little bit different so as to keep things interesting. That, she reminded herself, was something she had to remain glad about.

She sighed and threw the last wipe in the bin. Taking a last look in the mirror, she turned to her friend for reassurance that she looked at least passable. She caught her frown before Audrey realised Sarah could see her and quickly gave her a thumbs up. She did love her Audrey which is why she decided to repay her kindness by forcing a hug on her as a thank you.

“Silver lining, though,” Audrey said, shoving her away, laughing in protest. “You’re lucky you didn’t get any in your hair.”

“Yeh bastards had a good aim at least.” Sarah dusted down her arms one last time to check for anything she might have missed and the two of them left the locker room. The place was now eerily quiet, thank god. Just run out the clock and they’d be home and dry in no time, figuratively speaking in Sarah’s case.

Audrey placed a comforting arm around her pal. “You want me to find some spare scrubs? I’m sure they’ll have some upstairs. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Nah it’s OK. I’ll be done in 20. Just gotta sign Mr. Richardson out from cubicle 5 then I’ll run home and shower.”

“OK, well, if you have to hang around, avoid triage because you-know-who is there and I don’t want you ruining your chances again.” Audrey pinched Sarah on her hip and headed back to her work.

You-know-who was Greg Anderson, an attractive 30-something medic from a hospital on the other side of town. He was up-and-coming in Paediatrics apparently and had been shadowing a Consultant for the past few weeks. He was 6ft plus with dark hair and brown eyes and his father was something big in Economics in MIT. He drove a Porsche and wore Louboutin’s on his rounds which had Audrey practically foaming at the mouth. Indeed, he hadn’t bypassed the attentions of the majority of females in the ER, as well as a few men and even a couple of patients but as always, Sarah was solely focussed on the job at hand to pay him any heed. Audrey thought she caught him staring at her the other week, though, and made it her mission to set them up. She took great pride in playing matchmaker for her friend given that she herself got locked down nine years earlier and “it’s a damn shame to let these skills go to waste.’ She had somehow also managed to get Shan and Lisa onside, too, however that had happened.

Greg was handsome, she’d agree with that, and definitely her type in the right light but something was a little too Republican for her liking. Plus, he was a Rangers’ fan and Sarah swore blind early on in her life that she couldn’t bring children up in that kind of hostile environment. Sarah briefly contemplated walking past triage with the lingering scent now clinging to her clothes but as Audrey kindly repeated to her at regular intervals during the days, Greg was her only realistic prospect right now and figured it was perhaps better to keep her options open, at least for the time being.

Mr. Richardson was gone pretty soon afterwards and, accepting defeat for another day, Sarah grabbed her bag and headed home.

*

There was definitely beer left in the fridge, she was sure of it. She’d bought a six-pack at the weekend and could only remember drinking two during the Bruins’ game, so…

“Oh yeh, you’re out of beer.” 

Sarah turned around from the fridge to face a sheepish looking Chris holding the last frosted bottle in his hand, his ball cap low over his face attempting to hide the faint black circles under both his eyes. There was a 5 o’clock shadow forming now he wasn’t required to shave. As drained as she was, she briefly contemplated wrestling him to the ground for that last swig. He looked just as tired. She figured she could take him. At least he had the decency to look guilty about it.

“I’ll run out and get you some if you…Jesus! Why do you smell like a brewery?!” He practically recoiled holding his free hand to his nose.

Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed a glass for some cold water instead. “Are you here to just annoy me or steal my beer as well?”

“Both now you ask but seriously, what have you been doing all day? You don’t usually smell this bad.” He joked.

“Oh, some kids took it in turns to throw up on me and I didn’t have any clean scrubs to change into.” She downed the water and went to fill the glass up again. God, she didn’t realise she was this dehydrated. Chris shot her a look of confusion. “It’s a long story. Is Shan around?” She shed herself of her scrub top and headed into her bedroom down the hallway, Chris casually following behind.

She had to pop out for something so I’m just handing here ‘til she gets back. You coming for dinner at Ma’s? She’s doing her famous lamb roast. Might wanna shower first, though.” He joked, playfully sticking his tongue out at her.

“God, I forgot how hilarious you are.” she overtly rolled her eyes at him. “No, I’m good. Just gonna head for an early night, I think.”

“OK, well, if you change your mind, we’re leaving in half an hour. You know she’ll make me drive back to get you otherwise.”

That was true. For as long as she’d known and lived with Shanna, Lisa had treated her like any other member of her family and Sarah had never fully grasped how much she had appreciated it, coming from where she did. Lisa knew Sarah’s folks weren’t as close by any more and compensated for this by inviting to every dinner night she held, every games night, school events, theatre events, and more besides. She spent Christmases with them, visited Disney with them, and had New Years with them on occasions she wasn’t working. Lisa even organised a surprise birthday get-together for her as well despite Shan’s protests that she wasn’t a birthday kind of person. Sarah had learned to stop feeling awkward or out of place soon after.

Once Shan told Lisa Sarah had wanted to start learning to play piano as a new year’s resolution, Lisa had insisted she could teach her whenever she had some spare time. There soon after followed afternoons of tea and gossip and not much playing of the piano but it felt comfortable and nice for the first time in a long time. Shan would make excuses so Sarah didn’t feel obligated to attend everything but in truth, she didn’t mind so much. It was nice to feel wanted.

Chris was lounging on her armchair with one leg over the armrest, messing on his phone. Sarah could count the number of times on one hand the nights he had spent in his own place since returning to Boston a fortnight ago. As true as it was that he rarely spoke about filming in any great detail, she could nevertheless tell he’d been left particularly drained by this particular experience and wasn’t looking forward to the reshoots scheduled for next month. There had been a rumour he’d started sleeping with his married co-star and she guessed Lisa had been mithering him about it hence him turning up on their doorstep last week. Other than one night back in his own bed, he had remained on their sofa ever since, clearly relishing in the familiar company.

“So what made those kids throw up?” Chris called out, still engrossed in his phone. A quick glance over his shoulder told her he’d been ignoring someone’s text messages.

By now Sarah was in her old yet comfy sweatpants and a Boston hoodie Shan had bought her as an anniversary present of her 5th year living there. “Um, Absinthe. The nasty kind.” She was gathering her washing together.

Chris whistled low through his teeth, a kind of “been there, done that”.

“Rookie mistake.“ he laughed to himself. He frowned at his phone before chucking it onto her bed and turned around in her chair to plant both feet on the carpet, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. He looked like he wanted to get something off his chest but was struggling to find the words. He was reluctant to drag Sarah into anything given how exhausted she looked. Despite their differences in careers, sometimes it felt like she was the only person he knew who could understand how long and tiresome the days could get. Then he would inevitably feel embarrassed he was out there only pretending to save lives when she was out there day after day actually living it for real in all of its bloody glory. And for a tiny fraction of his pay. He tried not to water than thought too much.

“I take it you know,” he asked quietly, still not looking up from her bedroom floor.

“Know what?”

“About Jenny?”

“Oh,” she paused for a brief second. He’d know straight away she was lying if she tried to play dumb. “I mean your mom might have mentioned something in passing,” she shrugged unconvincingly. He scoffed knowing she would have talk about nothing else since the rumours started gathering pace online. He knew he hadn’t done himself any favours by avoiding the conversation either but he simply couldn’t stand another lecture of disapproving look. Dinner tonight was to be his mea culpa.

Sarah was thankful when she heard the front door go and then the sound of Shan dropping her bags in the kitchen and heading towards Sarah’s room.

“I signed for this for you this morning while you were out.” she handed Sarah a brown envelope before turning to Chris with a hand on her hip, looking like she was scolding her 7-year old nephew. “Mom’s been trying to get hold of you all day. She wasn’t sure if she needed to lay an extra seat for you this evening. Sarah, she wanted me to make sure I couldn’t persuade you to come as well?” Sarah shook her head and held up her stained clothes and enjoyed Shan’s visible flinch.

“I’m not even going to ask.” She held her hands up and walked out. Chris rolled his eyes in mock imitation of Shan and Sarah smiled sympathetically, mouthing a “good luck” to him as he left trailing behind her.

Sarah was left looking down at the envelope in her hands. It looked very official; the kind you would receive if you’d been summoned to a court hearing or Jury Duty. She didn’t recognise the address or the stamp but recognised her home town almost straight away. It had been years since she’d been there. Why the hell were they dragging her back now?

*

[heybuttercup]

Balance

I’ve been in a work funk lately. Up until a few days ago, I was pretty confident in my triage skills. Ever since the move to the front of the hospital/main lobby due to construction, I’ve been on it– pulling burns or unresponsive people out of cars, being able to call a stroke within the window and get them back. But these past 2 shifts (one day apart), I’ve been off it. Scribes telling me a doc I have a lot of respect for was questioning and WTFing my skills– a doc whose thought of me matters– and an older nurse who said a patient didn’t have audible wheezes when I took the time to listen to her lungs. It really fucked with my head because I said I would do better the next time and didn’t.

It really screwed with me. It’s all I can think of, and I’ve been off for two days. Some people say don’t be too hard on yourself, but how can you not be when you know your triages are for your entire department currently working?

I finally let it out into the open, telling friends what was on my mind. Some are truly more reliable than others. Sometimes it’s hard for me to truly be open. Those who helped got me refocused. I channeled the energy to productivity.

I’ve had a lot of shit to do. Between finally getting the nerve to get up and take care of things (to the point I was in drowning in chores), trying to achieve certain goals and take better care of myself both mentally and physically– I’m on a roll, while taking breaks of course.

I’m finding ways to slowly lower my stress levels such as drafting a lunch menu for the week (like when I work 4 days in a row), budgeting (and trying to stay on top of it), picking up extra shifts so I’m not always stressing about money, trying to eat healthier, and working out. I even have a calendar that lays out everything for me (work outs, work, appointments). Unfortunately, I think I had a bit too much on my plate for today and have to cut out yoga for the day.

I still have a lot of cleaning to do downstairs, and it’s so important to me to have that shit taken care of cause I’m gonna be exhausted when I work 4 in a row later this week. I’m also stressed about missing out on yoga cause that shit’s pretty expensive and maybe if I wasn’t such a slob, I wouldn’t have to skip yoga cause everything would’ve been clean. I’m trying to be better about getting my money’s worth out of things (like eating fresh foods before it expires in the fridge or going to workout class), but this time I really need it for my mental health. For my sanity. Because a lot really goes on in there when I’m by myself. Especially now that I’ve been dealing with sciatica, going on runs or walks aren’t what they used to be. Almost 80% of the time, I’m popping ibuprofen before doing anything physical, even sometimes when I’m at work. I feel like it’s debilitating– if I don’t take the med early enough before hand, I don’t really get the benefit of a real workout.

This is where balance comes into play. On top of my chores and errands I have to run today, I have/had yoga at 615, an eye appointment at 11 am, workout class at 7 pm, work 11-7 for some extra vacation cash, then an appointment at the vet when I get off and a different workout class at night. Here I was two hours ago, completely distraught over today’s goals and how I was gonna find time to sleep/rest for work and nervous that if I skip the morning workout, what if tonight’s workout got cancelled like it did on Monday? A week ago, I was doing my two a days with errands just fine.

I was also distraught over the fact I had to leave this calmness I was feeling. For the first time, I felt at peace (outside of my thoughts). The window was open, airing out the room and bringing cold, the sound of rain calming me, Nes asleep/next to me in bed for the first time in days, and our dogs snuggled beside me. I didn’t want to leave it. I was so upset about having to leave this when it’s been a WHILE with just the two of us laying together without an agenda. I’m so grateful for it. Truly truly grateful to be laying in our bed, just next to each other, in his/our house, safe and warm under the blankets and dogs by our sides. I had finally reached this inner peace, aside from the occasional funk thoughts that still try to sneak in here and there, and I was even more upset about having to leave it. But I’m choosing not to go to workout class, and this simple choice keeps me sane.

Usually our time together is always cut short by him gaming (but that’s okay), but sometimes I try to do too much. I used to de-stress on runs or long dog walks, but something as simple as being on my feet for too long or sitting/sleeping the wrong way causes extreme discomfort that lasts for hours. On top of that--- our week usually looks like him working his standard schedule (7p - 6a Wednesday-Saturday) then me and my crazy work schedule trying to balance with the dogs and classes. Sometimes I work opposite and we don’t see each other or on our one day off together it’s spent running errands or me ending up knocked out from being so tired. Right now is so nice. Even tho I do have errands to do later, we’re together now. It’s nice– relaxing in a clean environment. The bottom half of the house to be taken care of in a bit.

Well, now that I got most of this off my chest, I’m gonna go enjoy all this with a nap before getting the day started.

Sigh.

[ladyvialana]

Prompt Fic: The Price of Freedom (Part 2)

Continuation from part 1 of this prompt. Sorry for the delay. Real life can be so very ... life at times, y’know?

Prompt #112: “Why are you bleeding?”

Voltron Legendary Defender

Notes: 5+1 format, set vaguely post season 4, gen, descriptions of blood and wounds, little bit of fluff, little bit of angst, little bit of action

Also on Ao3

“Why are you so sharp? You should not be sharp here.” Hunk glared at the open panel on the floor of Yellow’s cockpit. He stuck his finger in his mouth and tried to ease the sting of the unexpected cut. Sure it wasn’t the most hygienic thing to do, but he was a little stuck right then since everything he was wearing was covered in mechanical fluids and whatever else was inside Yellow’s guts.

Yellow seemed to grumble, taking offense to Hunk’s tone and implication.

“Hey, I distinctly remember you thinking this was an awesome idea.” Hunk waved his finger around before poking at it to see if the flow of blood had stemmed. It had, for the most part. “You’ve been super jealous of Green’s upgrades for ages and, while I happen to think you’re perfect the way you are, this extra bit of radar tech we cooked up could be useful.”

Yellow closed off communication in such a way that let Hunk know he was being deliberately ignored. The lion always did this whenever Hunk brought up Green and Pidge’s modifications. Hunk wondered if it was because Yellow could tell a part of Hunk wanted to be able to do things like that but knew he never could with the type of stats Yellow offered.

Hunk understood (insomuch that he could understand a very human interpretation of a sentient alien robot cat’s existential mental projections). He touched his tongue to the cut on his finger, noting the lack of metallic aftertaste, and thought about the best way to reassure his lion. (And himself, if he was being honest.)

“I like how big you are,” he said, carefully maneuvering around the gaping hole in the floor to sit in his pilot chair and properly talk to Yellow. “I like that I can just rush in and push my way around without worrying about getting hurt. I like that we can take a hit and keep going. I like that we can protect everyone else just by being there.”

Yellow still wasn’t responding, but Hunk could feel a familiar warmth building in his chest and knew his lion was at least listening.

“All this stuff is really cool.” Hunk gestured around to the radar module he’d been configuring for Yellow’s systems. “The tech out here is amazing. I feel like a kid in a candy store every time I see something new. 

“But nothing compares to the feeling of sitting right here, of knowing that I don’t know anything about you, not really, but I’m so excited to learn. I love just knowing that I can fight and protect people because of you. You have to know how much you changed my life just by existing. You made me feel brave. Hell, you not only helped me learn how to pilot but actually enjoy it. No fancy gizmos or cool ice or fire weapons or invisibility cloaks could have done that.”

Hunk leaned forward in his chair to reach out and caress the unlit control panel. He could feel Yellow’s warmth engulfing his entire body. For a dizzying breathless moment, he could feel and experience everything Yellow had ever lived. But in an instant it was gone and he was left with his lion’s joy and contentment.

Hunk smiled. “Yeah, I know I’m a sap. But so are you. And we love it.” He got up and stretched. “Right, so, are we gonna do this?”

Yellow reluctantly agreed.

“It’ll be fine, I promise. Just, try to warn me about those sharp edges before I lose all my blood.”

Rather than agreeing to anything, Yellow directed his attention to the side of the cockpit. Hunk heard something unlock. He walked over to touch the area and a panel popped away from the side of the cockpit.

“Whoa, what ... is this a secret compartment? Are those first aid supplies? Wait ... is that a mini-fridge?!”

Forgetting all about the radar tech he was supposed to install, Hunk turned his attention to the new secrets Yellow was sharing with him and yelled delightedly about every new discovery.

“Yeah, you know what, you really are the best lion, hands down.”

***

Hunk winced as he turned his head too suddenly. The still-bleeding scrape on his cheek stung as his skin pulled. It was only shallow, but the sweat sliding down his face irritated the cut and the raw skin surrounding it. Honestly, his entire face felt like it had been peeled and tenderised, so the cut was only a blip on his pain radar when he specifically did something to reopen the small wound.

Hunk didn’t care if it was rude or hot or impractical, when in the field he was leaving his helmet on at all times from now on.

He’d had been caught unaware after a short skirmish on a recently occupied planet. A few stubbourn Galra encampments had remained after the planet’s rebellion and the forces were stretched too thin to mount a proper offensive against the remnants. One Galra troop had realised this and took a village hostage while the rebel forces were regrouping.

They didn’t last long after Hunk arrived on scene. Though he was solo, he and Yellow were more than enough for the small troop with their limited firepower.

In hindsight, he should have realised that he managed to secure that village far too quickly and with too little resistance. By the time he realised the troop numbers he captured didn’t match what the rebels had told him, half of the village was up in flames from strategic bomb blasts.

More than half of the Galra troop had got away before he’d even arrived and another quarter escaped while he was securing the villagers and evacuating the buildings.

One bomb blast had been too close. Hunk had landed on his face, but he’d also managed to keep the two kids in his arms free from major damage. Their frantic parent kept wailing and trying to hug him as he got up. Normally he’d have been polite and appreciative. This time, he just shoved the kids at her and pointed to the evacuation route before looking around for his helmet. Once it was secured, he made sure the family was on their way to safety before diving back into the village to look for more survivors crying out in fear.

Hunk ignored the ringing in his ears and the aching in his arms as he pulled another villager from the rubble. A few of the uninjured villagers helped out, leading those who couldn’t walk or were too severely injured towards safety. Luckily, the bombs seemed to have stopped, though the fires were still blazing and heavy black smoke filled the air.

He didn’t stop until he felt a firm grip on his arm.

“We can take it from here,” Shiro said. Hunk looked around to see the rest of his team in the rubble and by the villagers, their lions standing protectively over the battle site, ready to pounce on any indication of another Galra attack.

Hunk didn’t even try to hide his relief, slumping forward in Shiro’s grip and letting the older man prop him up. “Oh thank god.”

Shiro’s arm slid around Hunk’s shoulders as he led Hunk away from the destroyed buildings and towards the makeshift infirmary up on the hill by that giant blue tree overlooking the village. “You did good.”

Hunk let the praise sink into him as he looked around the evacuation area to see so many more faces than he expected.

Yeah, maybe he did.

***

Hunk groaned as he pushed himself out of Yellow’s pilot seat. Another day, another battle. Unfortunately, this latest one had resulted in far more casualties than others in recent times. Hunk ached as he stumbled his way out of Yellow and wanted to think of nothing but the hot heavy relief of the shower in his near future.

But just because he was back in the castle with his lion and the planet below was technically free didn’t mean the battle was completely over.

“Hunk!” Coran called out from the medbay as he passed by the doorway that opened automatically. His voice was strained and breathless. Hunk immediately stopped walking and rushed inside. “I need your help, my boy.”

The infirmary was full. All the pods were in already use and rebels and civilians and members of the Blade lay on cots that were supposed to be makeshift but had somehow always been needed ever since Coran first pulled them out from storage after a huge and particularly heinous battle.

While Coran wasn’t alone in assisting those in need, the others helping him out were mostly civilians and already occupied with the most severe injuries. Hunk, like the other paladins, had learned basic triage back in the early days of the training at the Garrison. Even with a basic knowledge he understood that more deaths could result if anyone in this room faltered.

Forgetting about his shower, or even about the fact that he hadn’t yet changed out of his armour, Hunk pulled one of the weird sterilising robes from the cupboard by the door and marched over to where Coran was struggling with a particularly solid Marmora soldier. “What do you need me to do?”

Coran didn’t smile or look up from his work but Hunk knew he was appreciative of the help. “Hold him down. The anesthetic’s starting to wear off and I’m almost done.”

Hunk nodded and tried to be as gentle as he could with the unconscious injured Galra while Coran finished sealing up what used to be a huge gash on the Blade’s flank.

The Blade was only the first Hunk needed to help with. There was a seemingly endless line of patients needing help. Some were easier to deal with than others. Most were in too much pain to even react much to Hunk’s presence or attempts as soothing their agony. He did his best to assist Coran, holding patients still, making sure he had enough supplies, even carrying patients to a bed when needed.

Hunk didn’t even notice when things started winding down. He’d just finished tying off a bandage for a civilian with a nasty cut down their leg when he felt someone come up beside him and gently prod his shoulder.

Keith looked exhausted, his skin was even more pale than usual and his arm was bound up in a sling.

“Hey, whoa.” Hunk reached out to check on him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, actually.” Keith held off Hunk’s probing with his good arm. “Lance already set and splinted it. I was just coming to see if you needed anything. You’ve been in here for ages and Pidge just ran up to get some food.”

“Lance?” Hunk looked away from Keith and finally took in the whole infirmary.

While all the pods were still in use (and likely would be for a while to come) at least half of the beds were empty and only a few people stood around, mostly near the pods or cots watching over their loved ones. Lance was indeed in the medbay, chatting with a small civilian child as he put some salve on her injured hand and making her laugh. Coran was talking with one of the bedridden patients, pointing at their injury.

Hunk blinked, feeling dizzy and disoriented for a moment. Keith grabbed him with his uninjured hand to steady him. “What time is it?”

“Definitely dinner time for you. Probably a good time for a shower and a nap too.”

Hunk followed Keith’s gaze down to the robe he’d put on. It was covered in streaks and smears of blood, the colours and shade different to human blood but unmistakable nonetheless.

“Yeah. Good call.” Hunk let Keith lead him over to the wall by the doorway. “Thanks man.”

“I think you’re the one in need of thanks.” Keith nudged him with his shoulder as he settled into place beside him. “Nice work in here.”

Hunk shrugged. “Coran and the civilian doctors did most of the work.”

“Still, I think things would have been a little more frantic without you here.”

“Just doing my part.” Hunk would be pleased by the sincere compliments later when he wasn’t feeling grimy and gritty from exhaustion. On top of that, his stomach started growling. “You said Pidge was going to get food?”

Keith laughed. “C’mon. Let’s go and meet her halfway.”

Hunk grinned, pushing himself away from the wall. “I like this plan.” He pulled off the bloodied robe and dropped it in one of the sterilisation bins, already feeling better, and went to go greet the rest of his team.