#i was also inspired by a lovely magellanicclouds johntana sketch that i reblogged a while back

[doom-dreaming]

Prompt: kiss?

PART 1 (of 5)

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The first time she kisses him, he’s unconscious.

She knows he’ll recover, these aren’t the worst injuries he’s ever endured—not by a long shot—but the sight of him laid out in the infirmary bed still tugs at something in her chest. He looks disturbingly small, vulnerable, under the white sheets and white lights. At least his breathing has improved over the several hours she’s been here—it’s deeper now, stronger. The painkillers must’ve kicked in.

A sharp ache crawls through her stomach and she’s suddenly reminded she hasn’t eaten in… She can’t even remember. Not a good sign. She sighs. She knows he’s in good hands here, that he’s safe, that he’ll be fine. She still doesn’t want to leave him. Some lingering carryover from her code, maybe? Or just ubiquitous, old-fashioned concern, no matter how irrational.

Resigning herself to a few minutes away from his side for the benefit of her own health, she stands, wincing as her stiff muscles protest. Apparently she hadn’t moved in the past few hours, either. “You might be in better shape than me, right now,” she half-jokes to her sleeping Spartan. She doubts it would have garnered much of a response, even if he were conscious.

That tugging in her chest pulls tighter. The dense clusters of freckles on his face stand out in stark contrast against the pallid backdrop of his skin and before she can talk herself out of it, she’s leaning down and brushing her lips, feather-light, across his cheek. "Be back in a second," she whispers.