#now you may ask. why use heart monitor beeping rather than heart beating sound.

[daz4i]

i did it...... after what felt like months (but it was actually 1 month and 6 days) i managed to write a new song. it's v fun i think. AND i can scratch off "long ass title referencing some other concept or work that's related to the topic" from my songwriting bucket list.

[littleredwolf]

Confessions

Pairing: Tony Stark x reader

Summary: Defeating the galaxy’s biggest foe and being brought to the brink of death causes Tony to get a little sentimental. 

Warnings: Endgame spoilers. 

Word Count: 1,969

A/N: I hope you enjoy some Tony fluff. ^^

----------

You chewed your lip as you glanced at the clock for what felt like the millionth time, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter with each second that passed. You turned your attention to the door opposite, your leg bouncing erratically as you resisted the urge to jump out of your seat and charge through it in your impatience. You hardly dared to think about what was going on on the other side, all manner of scenarios rushing through your head. 

What was taking so long? Had something gone wrong? 

That last thought alone caused your breath to catch in your throat and you hastily got up and walked to the nearby water cooler, busying yourself by filling a plastic cup and gulping down the lukewarm liquid. It wasn't the most refreshing experience, but it eased the lump in your throat. When the sound of the door handle turning filled your ears you whipped around to face it, eyes wide as a doctor and nurse emerged. You looked at them expectantly, waiting for them to break the news. You hoped it was good news. 

"Everything is fine," the doctor assured with a polite smile. "He's going to need a little rehabilitation and there's a few things to keep a careful eye on, but he's going to be okay." 

The sigh of relief you breathed could have knocked them both off their feet, as all the anxiety and uneasiness that had been building up over the last 12 hours fizzled and ebbed away. 

"Can I see him?" You asked hopefully, chewing your lip again as you nervously awaited a reply. 

The doctor and nurse shared a knowing look, before the doctor gave you a sympathetic smile. 

"You can see him," he nodded, "but please keep in mind what he's been through. He's going to be okay but he is in pretty bad shape - just keep that in mind and try not to be too alarmed when you see him." 

You nodded in understanding, a new wave of anxiety rolling over you as you placed a hand on the door handle. After what seemed like an eternity you were finally going to see him. So many hours of waiting with nothing to do but replay the last time you saw him over and over and over again - it had driven you almost mad. Now, you were allowed to see him, and it all felt so surreal. 

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed your nerves and stepped inside. 

-

The rhythmic humming and beeping of machines filled the otherwise silent room, and as you laid your eyes upon the figure on the bed you felt a wave of emotions overwhelm you. Relief, shock, worry, guilt, happiness, sadness, all swirling around like a chemical cocktail. You stepped forward with legs that felt like lead and stopped at the end of the bed, resting a hand on the frame and just looking at him. Taking him all in. 

Tony Stark, the symbol of strength and durability, lay bruised and broken before you, tucked beneath a crisp white hospital blanket. A multitude of wires snaked out from beneath the cover, attached to various machines that monitored who knew what - all that mattered was that they were keeping him stable. The beeping of the heart monitor was like a symphony to your ears, reassuring you that he was okay, he was alive. After everything that had happened, Tony Stark was alive. 

A single tear rolled down your cheek as the weight of the situation hit you. It could so easily have gone the other way. Using the gauntlet against Thanos should have killed him, the power in the stones more than any human could endure, yet somehow, against all odds, he'd survived. For once in your life, you were grateful for his stubbornness. 

"Are you gonna stare at me this whole time or are you actually gonna say something?" Tony's voice cut through the silence, weak but still filled with his usual sarcasm, and you jumped at the sudden sound, blushing in embarrassment for getting caught staring. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and came closer to sit beside him. 

"I thought you were asleep," you said softly, voice threatening to break. 

"That's even creepier," he remarked, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes with a smirk. 

"Nice to see you still have your crappy sense of humour," you teased, causing him to pout. 

"Hey, you're supposed to be nice to me, I almost died." 

"Really? You're playing that card already?" It was surprising how easy it was to fall back into your old habit of swapping banter - it made the current situation a lot easier to deal with, which you suspected was exactly why Tony was doing it. The serious talk would come later, when he was ready, but for now you were happy to lean on humour as a coping mechanism. 

"Just tell me, how's the face? Because that's the real money maker."

You took the opportunity to really look at him, heart sinking as your eyes trailed over every bruise and cut and scar - reminders of what he'd been through. He looked a mess, but it was a relief to see that the impish glint was still in his eyes. 

"Well, you're not gonna get any calls from Vogue anytime soon, but it'll do," you shrugged, unable to stifle a giggle. 

"Ouch!" He gasped, holding a hand to his heart. 

A heavy silence followed and you found yourself struggling for what to say next. When Tony’s hand touched yours you looked up to meet his eye. 

"I'm okay," he reassured, squeezing your hand. "I'm okay." 

You shared a smile as your eyes filled with more tears, and you finally allowed the emotions you’d been holding back to break through. 

"I was so scared," you breathed, inching closer and gripping his hand tighter. "I thought we'd lost you." 

It seemed wrong that he was the one who'd almost died yet you were the one sitting there crying, but now that you'd started you couldn't stop, as sobs ripped through you and the tears just kept coming. Tony did his best to comfort you, rubbing circles into the palm of the hand he was still holding and encouraging you to let it all out. He'd been through hell, but he could only imagine what it must have been like for his friends to witness it all unfold. 

"You could've just said if I looked that bad, you know." 

"Shut up," you giggled through your tears, taking a series of breaths to help calm down. 

"You know, there's something I realised while I was busy thinking I was dead…”

"Yeah? What's that?" 

"We may be a bunch of superheroes with fancy technology and the best gadgets money can buy, but it only takes one crazy guy, high on power, to bring it all crashing down." 

"I'd really rather not think about that just yet." 

"Sorry, it's just...I nearly died, and of all the things in my life I've messed up or regretted, not getting this off of my chest would have been my biggest mistake." 

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow, sitting straighter in your chair in preparation for what he had to say. 

"When I thought it was over and was heading towards the light - yeah, it's real - I didn't see God or St Peter or any other bearded guy waiting for me...I saw you," 

"What?" 

He nodded, "I was done, Y/N. I was ready to die. I knew all along that's how it was going to end, and I'd accepted that. I was sick of fighting, just delaying the inevitable. I was ready to go, but then, right at the end, I saw you, and I remembered why I'd been fighting so hard in the first place." 

You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but your heart beat just that little bit faster in anticipation anyway. 

It was no lie that you’d harboured feelings for Tony over the years, but you'd never once expected that he might actually feel the same. It was much easier to bury it away than admit how you felt about someone with his reputation. 

"I couldn't leave without telling you how I really felt. Because it's you, Y/N, it's always been you - you've set me straight when I've lost my way, you've pulled me back from the edge more times than I can count. You've stopped me getting carried away, going overboard. You've always been there making sure I stayed on the right path, and I guess I wasn't ready to admit it before but, I kinda liked the thought of you having my back. I guess nearly dying puts things into perspective, but I just know that I couldn't leave without telling you how I really feel." 

You stared, dumbfounded, as he babbled on. "Tony, what are you trying to say?" 

At this point you were pretty sure your heart had stopped beating altogether, that familiar knot of anxiety twisting in your chest again. He took a deep breath as he carefully contemplated his next words.

"I love you, Y/N. I've loved you for a long time, but I never wanted to admit it because I knew that if I did it would mean it was real. I've spent so many years building this persona, wrapping myself up in a safety blanket and hiding away from my emotions. I didn’t want to just lay everything out for the world to see and make myself vulnerable." 

"But. You're Tony Stark." 

"I'm aware of that, yes."

"You're one of the biggest names in the world. You're important. I'm just a nobody."

"You're not a nobody, Y/N. Not to me."

Tears filled your eyes again but this time for a completely different reason. You couldn't deny that you hadn't thought about this moment from time to time, imagining how it might feel if he were to feel the same, but now that he was actually confessing it, it didn't feel real. 

"It's always been you," he repeated, cupping a hand to your cheek and swiping a tear away with his thumb. 

"Oh, Tony," you whimpered, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. It felt so good to feel his warm palm against your skin, as though his hands had been made just to hold you. When he moved to tilt your chin up you opened your eyes, finding him already looking at you with an affectionate smile. 

"Does this mean it's okay to kiss you?" He asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer. Without another word, you leaned forward and closed the gap between you, pressing the most gentle of kisses to his lips in fear of hurting him. He hummed in content and ran his free hand through your hair, holding you close for just a little longer. 

When you parted, Tony rested his forehead against yours, the two of you closing your eyes and relishing this quiet moment between you. You weren’t sure when you’d get another, knowing the others would be here soon now that he was awake.   

"You're not just saying you love me so that I smuggle you in some cheeseburgers are you?" You asked after a while, pulling away to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

"No, but is that a request I can make?"

"Well, I don’t want to get caught,” you thought aloud, tapping a finger on your chin for added effect. “But I can get Happy to pick some up for you. That way my hands stay clean.” 

Tony grinned, the mischief in his eyes mirroring yours.

"That genius thinking is just one of the many reasons why I love you," he grinned, pulling you closer for another chaste kiss. 

[soysaucevictim]

“more than ever, hour (work is never over)”

Summary: Logan goes for a run, and hits a snag when Roman seems to have found himself in trouble. Again. (This happens about a year before “Cherry Cola”, to be clear. Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, Fluff, Light Angst, Sickfic(?)

Characters: Logan and Roman centric. Janus, Patton, and Remus mentioned.

Relationships: Logince (platonic), Background Intrulogical (platonic/ambiguous), Background Roceit (sexual/QPP*), Background Loceit (platonic)

Warnings: Lots of numbers, Himbro Roman, Roman Is A Disaster, illness, over-training, sleep deprivation, heat exhaustion, (not as bad as what happened in “Cherry Cola”), vomiting (mentioned), Logan Is A Good Friend

-

Logan was running his typical checklists before setting out for another HIIT routine over at the gym. He highly valued maintaining his cardiac and overall health. He wasn’t in the medical field like Janus is and Patton used to be, but he didn’t need those credentials to appreciate it.

Considering he was a 28 year old Homo sapien, his maximal heart rate would be 192 beats per minute. Obviously, he wasn’t keen on achieving nor surpassing exactly that red zone. To say there were diminishing returns, would be an understatement. Remus would take the notion as a challenge… to be sure.

But that value was necessary to calculate his initial target – 65% of that, to be relatively precise. 125, rounded up. He intended to reach that after some warm-up routine and the first lap or two. He would consider this the yellow zone.

Once that holds reasonably steady, his next goal was to go for 87% at the highest intensity. So, 167 BPM. Holding that line for at least a minute. 2 minutes, if he was feeling particularly bold, he was in pretty good shape at this juncture. This would be more of an orange zone.

After the spike in intensity, he would go down to 50% for recovery, or 96 BPM. Rest at that load for 3 minutes, in the proverbial green zone. And then crank the figurative gears back up to the 87% target.

He intended to repeat this for at least 10 rounds. Add more, if energy is willing. Sounded like a plan.

To hit these marks, one of the simpler ways Logan enjoyed were via the exercise bikes. But today, he thought he’ll do some laps around the indoor track. He felt he needed to work in some more devoted arm action, and that would be a reasonable way to hit this workout paradigm. This outline seemed elegant and flawless.

He reviewed all of that while he swapped out his casual shoes for runners, in the locker room.

-

It was exactly noon when he approached the starting line. He popped in some earbuds to his prepared playlists.

He was listening to the mix named “Warm-Up Playlist”. He knew his fellows would jab him for the plainness of it, but the utility simply couldn’t be argued with. It was a selection of songs that started at 50, incrementing up to 100 BPM in tempo. It helped him keep his pace.

He stood to the side, spending a couple minutes doing some preliminary exercises. Ankle circles, leg swings, pelvic loops, arm circles, and hula-hoop jumps. It’s important to keep all the relevant joints stable and readied. Janus would probably congratulate his refreshing fastidiousness, among their motley crew.

After that micro-checklist was completed, he started going toward a brisk walking pace. He was going to check his heart rate after a couple laps to see how close to 65% he was getting.

Halfway into his first lap, he was nearly knocked over by a blur wearing a red crop-top sweatshirt and matching shorts. Roman, clearly not paying attention to what he was doing. Predictably. Logan snorted and rolled his eyes. He had to table his thoughts about his friend’s whole methodology (or lack thereof, as far as he was concerned), or else he’d fall too far out of rhythm!

Roughly a quarter of the way into the second lap, Roman closed in on Logan again, he was going at a jogging pace to a slightly faster walk to match up with Logan. Roman waved and smiled at Logan, “Hey! Didn’t expect to see ya here, Specs!”

Logan thought the voice was Roman-typically cheery. Frankly Logan would be mystified about this man’s energy, if he hadn’t met Remus first. “Salutations.”

“Why are you going so slooow? Wanna race me? I bet I can totally run circles around you!”

“No. I have a plan I intend to stick to, Roman. You know this.”

Roman melodramatically threw up his arms and pouted at Logan, somewhat impressively coordinated to his slow jogging. “Fiiine. I’m off – I want to see how many laps I can get in, like... the next hour. Adiós, for now~”

Roman went from a jog to a run before he could get a response. Logan tutted before refocusing on getting to that 65% - that yellow zone. After the second lap, he drank some water and checked his pulse… hmmm, 55%. It was time to hit a jog. He skipped a few tracks toward that range and worked to match.

By the time Logan completed lap 3, he reached and held at 65%. So, he turned on a 1-minute interval timer and his “HIIT Playlist”, on his phone. Much of the music went at 120 BPM, give or take 30. This phase, he was going to rely on his fitness bracelet to tell him where he’s at, not enough time to do things digitally… rather, manually or with his fingers, to clarify.

He and Remus programmed this thing to flash his percentage progress, freeing up some mental space to not need to calculate that value repeatedly, whenever he looked at the monitor.

He picked up to a run for about another quarter-lap and broke into a full-tilt sprint. Every 20 or so seconds, he glanced at the bracelet, while keeping the majority of his attention to his surroundings and form.

20 seconds, 73%. Not good enough.

40 seconds, 84%. Logan grimaced and pushed his cadence up a bit more.

50 seconds, 86%. For the love of Archimedes… it’s okay. It’s close.

BEEP! 60 seconds, 88%. Orange. FINALLY. Okay, he thought he had a good read now, being consistent for the next sets should be easier.

-

Time to, figuratively, dial things way down. He spent approximately 20 seconds running, 40 more jogging, and BEEP.

He took a couple sips from his water bottle, before spending the remaining 2 minutes going at a walk.

1 minute, 30 seconds, 78%.

BEEP. 2 minutes, 71%.

2 minutes, 30 seconds, 60%.

2 minutes, 50 seconds, 53%.

BEEP. 3 minutes, 49%. Green. Logan sighed to himself, “Margin of error, you have to account for it… anyways.”

-

Round 2.

20 seconds, 76%. Better.

40 seconds, 85%. Almost there.

50 seconds, 87%. Orange, again. Locked on, Logan smiled. Now hold this for 10 more seconds…

BEEP!

-

Second active rest cycle.

Once he got down to a walk again, he observed that Roman was on the opposite end of the track. Still going at what he could only describe as an absurd pace.

Roman closed in when Logan was 2 minutes into this interval. 69%, by the way. Logan groaned, some of Remus’s sense of humor “rubbing off on him”. Why must people ascribe such crudeness to an arbitrary number, he wondered.

Roman was panting quite loudly, shouting down Logan, “Nerd- Nerd’s got some SPEED!”

Logan took a swig of his water bottle. “This is not the first time you’ve seen me manage this.”

Roman looked like he just realized he should have followed suit, smacking his lips and drinking several gulps from his own water supply. “R-riiight.”

“You really should pace yourself. On everything. Honestly.”

“HEY. Only Snakey McSnakerson gets to tell me that!”

“Is he here right now? Am I wrong?”

Roman was back to pouting, “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“But you just-”

Roman cupped his hands over his ears, “Lalala – I can’t hear you!”

Roman ran off ahead of him again. Logan could only shake his head.

2 minutes 55 seconds, 51%.

BEEP. 50%. Green.

-

Round 3.

30 seconds, 80%. Not bad if he said so himself.

40 seconds, 84%. Margin of error.

50 seconds, 89%. Overcompensated somewhat, it would seem. Perhaps Roman’s competitive streak was “infectious”, today.

BEEP! 60 seconds, 91%. Orange, approaching red. Yeah, he was definitely overcompensating.

-

Third rest, fourth active, fourth rest, fifth active intervals... hitting his marks, pleasingly and without incident.

He was on his fifth rest, soon enough.

Once Logan was walking again, he thought he was up for extending his active intervals to 2’, for the next 5 sets. Things have been building palpable fatigue, but very manageable.

Roman still appeared to holding up, a short distance ahead of Logan, at this point. Perhaps he was slowing down. It was a few moments before the distance was closed again.

Roman was drenched, so Logan decided to ask him, “Are you quite alright?”

“Might be getting a little tired now, no big deal.”

Logan recalled some things Patton instructed all of them about and he looked at Roman more carefully as they walked slowly. Roman looked paler than usual. “Hmmm, is your head hurting, perhaps?”

“Maybe a little. Didn’t get enough sleep again, it’s probably that.”

“I imagine it couldn’t be helping but-”

Roman got a little agitated, “But what, Egg Head?”

“Are you nauseous?”

“I’m not ready to puke, not just yet, Bro Ham.”

“May I check your pulse? Or rather, how does it feel?”

“What are you getting at!?”

“Cramps? Dizziness?… I think you are exhibiting the signs of heat exhaustion.”

Roman looked like he was going to be short with Logan, but it was clear now that he was starting to get somewhat wobbly. Logan decided to prompt him again, “Here, let us go to the showers, you need to cool off.”

Roman knew he couldn’t fight Logan in his current state, “Fiiine.”

Logan was annoyed about cutting his workout short, but he could always resume later. This was more important, anyways.

-

Roman was lying on his back on one of the benches in the locker room. His outfit then saturated with cool shower water, holding a battery-power fan to himself that Logan let him borrow.

Logan was at his feet, “How are your symptoms now?”

Roman groaned, “You’re not “the doctor” in our group, would you please stop acting like it.”

“I do not wish to see you in the hospital, Roman.”

Roman sputtered a little, “Yeah well, I’m fine.”

“Stable, I suppose, yes. But I know you enough to know you are not “fine”.”

Roman almost shot up to rebut, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. “Look. I just didn’t get enough sleep – mind was running a bajillion miles an hour last night. So many IDEAS to write down. And couldn’t get to sleep until way after… you know what? Nevermind.”

Logan did care and frankly saw a lot of similar tendencies between the two brothers. It disturbed him and made him wish he was able to help them get a better handle on their sleeping and general health habits. It seemed as though they were both at very high risk of something serious occurring. But at the same time, he recognized that this was not his area of expertise. All he could really do was try to be there for them.

“Speaking of which... I think I see my wall… approaching… going to-”

Before Logan could latch onto any inquiries about walls, Roman dropped the fan and started snoring. After a brief moment of worry, Logan was reasonably sure this was simply a nap, not a loss of consciousness. To his relief.

Logan thought idly, “I suppose I should at least inform Janus what occurred. Roman might not be fit to drive for a while longer.”

Logan tapped out a message, “Hey. I’m in the locker room with Roman. He likely had an episode of heat exhaustion, today. He appears to be doing okay right now. But I felt that it was worth mentioning it to you.”

It was not even 2 minutes before Janus responded with, “WHAT!?”

“He’s safe, just taking a nap. I suppose he wouldn’t mind if you took him home.”

“… omw. That dumb ass has some explaining to do. With love, of course.”

“Indeed, I shall see you shortly then?”

“Yeah, ttyl… thanks, btw.”

Logan supposed he should stick around to make sure Roman was safe before resuming his own agenda. He had to admit, like with Remus, he did enjoy seeing them get some greatly needed rest.

[wri0thesley]

Semi-angsty scenario (however much hurt you feel willing to put in) of Prosciutto surviving the train fight, albeit quite injured, at home with his s/o when the new passione finds him and wants him (for like information or to recruit him again? idk)

recovering - prosciutto x reader (1.7k)

SFW. reader is gender neutral.

warnings for: hospitals, injury, self-hate, death idealation. 

Things do not change overnight; not really. 

Oh, for Prosciutto, they changed in the course of an hour, or maybe less. For your boyfriend, it had been a case of waking up that morning with two legs and two arms and two eyes, a heart that beat sound and fast, a charming smile and a teasing voice and the knowledge of his own finesse - and having almost none of those things by the time midnight struck. 

Prosciutto’s physicality changes overnight. The doctors do what they can for him (you, on pulled tight tenterhooks by his bedside, listening to the beep of monitors with your heart in your mouth in case of a flatline), but the battle and the train have taken much from him. His brain does not change at all. 

He spends two months in the hospital, wrapped in bandages and needles and monitors. You both count the tiles on the ceiling, over and over. You bring him grapes and magazines, but not flowers (and absolutely not cigarettes, though his hand fastens about your wrist and he begs - the doctors say his lungs may never function the same way again). The nurses speak to you;

“Oh, he must have been so handsome,” they say, pity lacing their tone, as they pat your shoulder. As they ask you about children, and the engagement ring on your finger, and you know that they’re thinking that you should get away now, before you’re railroaded into taking care of him (as if you wouldn’t, as if taking care of him is a punishment--). 

“He is,” you say, stubborn - but they give you those same smiles. “He is handsome.” 

He hates how they fluff his pillows, how they speak to him, how they simper. “Like I’m an invalid,” he says, frustrated. You do not remind him that he is an invalid right now; there’s no point in that. Prosciutto is still grappling with being in bed. 

He grapples with the prosthetic leg and arm. He grapples with the glass eye when he’s allowed to remove the adhesive pad (he gives up on that one, eventually; you source an expensive designer eyepatch instead, all embroidered with roses and thorns and glittering semi-precious stones). He grapples with himself, the first time he sees his body full-length in a mirror. 

“Look at me,” he says, lip twisting in disgust. “I should have died instead.”

“Don’t say that,” you say, softly, standing behind him. Your eyes travel the same path as his; the prosthetic leg, all plastics and metal (the shiny skin of where his leg finishes just visible beneath the hospital gown he hates wearing). The jointed arm that he’s still struggling to use. The scars all across his face, the place his hair had to be cut because of how blood was matting it together, the pinprick needle points of all the cannulas and wires he’s had sticking out of him for months. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You say that now,” Prosciutto replies. “But in a few months . . . in a few months, after you’ve had to take care of me, you’ll wish I’d died too.”

-

He tries to refuse help at first. He drops glasses and whiskey bottles and his cutlery and swears and kicks his one good foot into doorways, toppling over because his balance is still not quite right. He shrugs off your attempts to help dress him. He rolls away from you in bed and fiercely shakes off your kisses on scarred shoulderblades. 

“You should leave me,” he says, bitter and angry. “Find someone whole. I’m a fucking liability.”

“I won’t,” you tell him, patiently. “I would stay with you if you were a brain in a jar.”

“Better than this,” he grunts, but in the night his body curls around yours and you kiss away tears from his scarred face that neither of you mention in the early morning light. 

It does not change overnight. Six months after his discharge from the hospital, things have calmed slightly - Prosciutto still drops his silverware sometimes, but instead of swearing and blaming himself, he forces himself to laugh. The house has adapted, too; Prosciutto had tried to avoid them at first (“The period features!” He’d said to you. “I don’t want a fucking stairlift, these stairs haven’t been altered since 1840--), but he’d acquiesced in the end. 

Extra rails, things he can hold onto, antique wingback chairs with new handles he can help himself in and out of more easily. Gadgets to make his grip better, your bedroom relocated into what used to be his study - Prosciutto has always been the kind of man to resist change, but for you he pushes himself. 

And he still cries, of course. You hear him call out for Pesci. You hear him call out for Risotto. He wakes up panting and sweating and cursing Bruno Buccellati’s name (though both of you know what happened to him. Prosciutto has made his peace - he respects Buccellati’s devotion. He’s glad of Diavolo’s deposement. You feel rather less sanctimonious about it, and sometimes the voice in your head is glad that Bruno Buccellati came to a sticky end.). He tells you to leave him and that he’s not worth it and his working hand curls around your waist, pulling you into him, whispering he wishes he’d died instead. 

You live a slightly quieter life. Prosciutto likes luxury, but likes a bargain and hates spending money even more - you two have a nice little savings pot that keeps you in (if not the manner you were accustomed to before) modest fashion. Grateful Dead potters about the house - some of his tentacles are wizened and broken, but he reaches things for Prosciutto that your boyfriend cannot and lays his head on your knee, more desperate for affection now than he ever was before Prosciutto’s injuries. Prosciutto tenses when you lay your hand on Grateful Dead’s head, but shivers when your fingers trace soft patterns, his own head rolling back to enjoy the ghost of your hand on his stand. 

And you are happy. 

You are as happy as you can be. You and Prosciutto muddle along, but he is alive and you are by his side. You kiss him and his good arm goes around your waist, goading you into sitting on his knee. He whispers that he loves you, adores you, that you keep him going - and you whisper the same into his, sighing against his skin, happy that he is with you. 

Until the knock on the door, eight months after his accident. 

-

Giorno Giovanna, in real life, is tiny. He’s a boy - that much is clear. You’d heard he was fifteen (though perhaps he is sixteen now), but you hadn’t been expecting him to look . . . so young. Prosciutto is on edge in front of him, scowl on his handsome face so his overbite and slight buck teeth are more prominent, his knuckles white on the cane by his chair. 

“I don’t understand why you’ve come now,” you say to him, your voice pitching. You can see Prosciutto’s careful veneer falling apart in front of the new Don of Passione. “It’s been months.”

“We were waiting for Signore Prosciutto to recover from his injuries,” Giorno says, all benevolence. Your own heart beats treacherously fast in your chest. You do not trust this golden-haired angel, nor the dark-haired man he’s brought with him with one hand on the table and one hand in the gun in his pants. 

“I won’t be regrowing any of my limbs,” Prosciutto snaps, and you start as you see the gunman’s fingers flex on the handle. You put a hand on your boyfriend’s leg, high enough that it’s leg and not prosthetic, hoping to calm him. 

“We won’t be asking that of you,” Giorno continues, as if - in Diavolo’s reign - Prosciutto’s outburst wouldn’t be enough for him to find a bullet lodged in his brain. 

“I’m not exactly suited for field work in my condition,” Prosciutto says, and you want to shush him and talk for him. You hate this - hate that you can hear the barbed wire in Prosciutto’s voice, that it feels like you’re teetering on a tightrope. If Prosciutto says the wrong thing . . . you two have come so far! You’ve worked so hard! For Prosciutto’s life to come to an end, here, because of a wrong inflection or a rude word when he’s staring the man who killed his team-family-friends in the face and is expected to show deference to him . . .

You can’t bear it. 

“No,” Giorno says. Your throat is dry. You stare at the table in front of you (your old mahogany table was sent to an antiques shop; this one is perfectly sized for Prosciutto’s wheelchair on his worst days) and try and pretend that you aren’t on the edge of a breakdown and that your nerves aren’t fraying with every syllable that comes from Giorno’s mouth. “But . . . we have access to Diavolo’s files, signore, and we know you’d be well-suited for other things.”

“Prosciutto,” you say, aware your voice is small and whiny. You put a hundred things into the whisper of his name. The fear and anxiety and regret - the hope that you’d put the mafia behind you. You’re not stupid. A man like Prosciutto doesn’t get to leave his whole life behind. But you’d thought . . . after everything, you’d thought you were safe.

“Your family,” Giorno continues. “Your good name. Your knowledge of how the syndicate works. We could find a good use for you, signore, if you’ll agree to come work with us.”

(Giorno uses the word ‘agree’. You and Prosciutto both know that is not the case. There is no disagreement when it comes to these things. It is an agreement or an assassin in two weeks from now and a knife at his throat and you, with Prosciutto cradled in your arms as he bleeds out. Men like him do not get miracles twice.)

(He carefully says ‘with’, too. You both know it is ‘for’. ‘Under’. Prosciutto will be a pawn. Again.)

“Yes.” Prosciutto says. He shoots you a brief look that has a hundred apologies written all over it. “I understand, Don.”

They do not give Prosciutto much time to decide - both of them know, with you at his side, he isn’t going to say no. 

And when Prosciutto kisses Giorno’s ring and swears fealty again, he looks at you and you wonder how you were ever so foolish to believe you’d really escape. 

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Home - Part 21

A/N- Thank you to everyone who’s still reading! I think there’s gonna be one more part and an epilogue then this will be done :) 💕 

32 weeks Pregnant

"Im so over being pregnant now Wanda you have no idea!" I moaned as we sat in the newly decorated nursery folding the baby clothes id washed through. The extension was finished and Bucky, Steve and Sam had done a great job of doing the twins nursery.

Wanda had been amazing helping me with the girls, i was always so tired nowadays.

"I bet, it looks uncomfortable now. Im glad I'm only having the one!" She laughed holding a hand against her own tiny bump, she and Sam had found out she was pregnant 4 months ago.

"I told Bucky id be the size of a house with these boys! You've seen the size of him so its no surprise is it!" I laughed shaking my head as i rubbed the side of my stomach.

"You okay?" Wanda asked looking concerned.

"Yeah think I've got a foot digging in somewhere.... their running out of room in here now"

"Not long now hun"

"Im counting down the weeks, this whole pregnancy has flown by up until now! Now its taking forever"

"You getting nervous?"

"A little bit, but mostly i just want them here already"

"When is Bucky due back from his trip?"

"Later tonight, it was meant to be tomorrow but he won the case, it all got settled a lot earlier than he thought it would, his driving back tonight"

"Do you want me stay over until he gets home?"

"Its fine Wand his already arranged for Steve to stay when he gets back with the girls and stay until his home"

"Thats okay then, i just didn't want you being on your own"

"Im never on my own lately" i shook my head and laughed.

"Their very protective" she agreed, they had been terrible lately! One of them was always with me incase anything happened. The only reason they weren't here now was because Wanda was here!

"I know they mean well but they are driving me crazy! Every time i go to get up their there! I cant even go to the bathroom without questions"

"That would drive me crazy too! I'll kick Sam's ass if he does that!".

We spent another 30 minutes or so sorting the clothes and other bits before heading downstairs for some tea. Not long after that Steve got back with the girls, he had taken them to the zoo for the day and they all looked exhausted... Steve included!

"Hey you guys, have you had a nice day?" I asked as Allie and Brooke came straight over and cuddled up to me.

"Yeah it was soooo good" Allie smiled up at me before stroking my huge bump.

"Hi baby brothers! I missed you"

"I just felt a kick" Brooke laughed holding a hand to the side of my tummy where i had been feeling it before.

"Looks like they missed their big sisters huh?" I smiled at them both.

"Im gonna head home now Steve's back to keep you company. Call me if you need anything" Wanda said hugging me goodbye before saying goodbye to Steve and the girls and heading off.

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep once Wanda had left. Steve ordered some pizza's for the girls dinner because he didn't want to wake me up, when i finally did wake up the pains in my side were back with a vengeance!

"You okay sweetheart?" Steve asked looking worried.

"Yeah just getting uncomfortable.... would you be okay keeping an eye on the girls while i go take a bath, see if it eases off a bit. They might move a bit so its not so bad"

"Yeah sure"

"thanks Steve" i gave him a smile and went up to the bathroom.

STEVE'S POV

I was sitting in the living room watching The Lion King with the girls when i heard Y/N calling for me.

"Steve...?....STEVE!!"

"What??" I called back rushing upstairs to the bathroom "What is it??!" I asked from the other side of the door.

"Erm...I think the babies are coming!" She called back sounding like she was freaking out.

"Oh shit..... have your waters broke?!"

"How do i know im in the tub!! All i know is it hurts like a bitch!"

"Okay. Okay.... let me call Sam and Wanda to come look after the girls and i'll take you to the hospital"

"Call Bucky!! If this is it i want him there!"

"Okay im calling him now" i told her pulling out my cell and dialling Bucky.

"Steve...." she said quietly from inside the bathroom.

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Im gonna need you to help me out of the tub..... i can't do it on my own"

Oh shit!

"Hey Steve, everything okay?" Bucky answered after the second ring.

"No Buck! No! Everything is not okay! I think Y/N's having the babies and now i have to go help her out of the tub!"

"What?? But its too early! This isn't supposed to be happening yet!!" Bucky said loudly "I'm still a couple hours out.... erm can you get her to the hospital and i'll meet you there?.... call Becca to come watch the kids...."

"Im gonna call Sam and Wanda their closer, Wanda said to call if we needed anything"

"Okay that works"

"Buck, what about the fact i gotta get your girl outta the tub??"

"Steve!! Will you hurry up for fuck sake!" Y/N yelled through the door.

"Just do it pal, you gotta help her for me"

"Okay, I'm gonna put you on speaker...."

As i opened the bathroom door i stuck my head in slowly and let out a sigh of relief when i saw she had pulled her towel over her to hide her nakedness.

"Did you reach Buck?"

"Im here baby" Bucky said as i put the phone down on the counter and went to help her up from the tub.

"Bucky..... how long are you gonna be?"

"Couple hours tops....i'll be there i promise! But i need you to go with Steve. His gonna stay with you until i get there"

"Okay".

Once i helped Y/N out of the tub i wrapped a dry towel around her and helped her into the bedroom so she could get dressed.

"Im gonna call Sam while you get dressed, i'll be just outside if you need me" i told her with a reassuring smile.

Reader POV

I was still getting dressed when i heard the knocking at the front door.

"Uncle Steve, Uncle Sam and Auntie Wanda are at the door!" Brooke called up the stairs.

"Okay sweetheart, can you let them in please?"

"Okay"

"Steve, you can come in I'm dressed" i called to him, he came in and grabbed my bag i had packed for the hospital and then wrapped an arm around me to help me downstairs.

"You okay?" Wanda asked as soon as she saw me.

"Honestly i have no idea" i shook my head and laughed nervously "thanks for coming"

"No worries darlin'.... i blue lighted it here!" Sam laughed, that would explain how they got here so quick.

"Okay lets get you to the hospital.... i dont want to have to deliver these babies" Steve joked before leading me out to the car.

When we arrived at the hospital they took us straight through to a delivery room and made me change into a hospital gown (which Steve had to help with!) And then hooked me up to various machines to monitor mine and the babies heart beats. Id been here for over an hour now and the contractions were getting so much worse, i was already tired and i hadn't even gotten to the bad bit yet.... I'm pretty sure Steve hates me for squeezing his hand so tight every time a contraction hits, but he smiles through gritted teeth and tries to keep me calm.

"I want Bucky.... why is it taking so long?" I moaned after getting through a rather bad contraction.

"He'll be here soon sweetheart" Steve smiled brushing my sweaty hair back from my face.

"Thank you for staying with me Steve, I'm not sure how id be coping on my own" i told him truthfully "owww! Shit my back is cramping...."

"You can turn her onto her side and rub her back dad" a nurse that i hadn’t even noticed til now said to Steve as she checked the monitors.

"Oh... oh I'm not dad, I'm dad's best friend. His on his way"

"Oh sorry i just assumed. You can still help her out though" she shrugged.

"Sure, i can do that"

"Its fine you don't have to....." i started to say not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

"I got you, come on lets get you on your side" he smiled helping me roll onto my side so he could massage the cramp from my back.

"Oh my god Steve! You've got magic hands i swear!" I moaned as the pressure started to ease.

"Don't let Buck hear you moaning my name like that sweetheart he might kick my ass" he chuckled trying to make me laugh.

"Too late punk" came the voice of the man i was waiting for.

"Bucky! Your here!" I cried as he walked over and kissed me.

"I told you i would be didn't i?"

"I was just trying to help" Steve said quickly holding his hands up.

"I know, thanks Steve. Thanks for looking out for my girl" they exchanged a manly hug before Bucky took his place rubbing my back.

"Anytime, girls got a grip on her just a heads up. I think she broke my hand"  we all started laughing at that but the room fell silent when the alarm on one of the monitors started going off.

"What is that.....whats going on?!" I said panicking as the nurse came back in followed closely by the Doctor. The Doctor stood at the machine looking at a print out before turning to face us.

"Lay her on her back please.... at last one of the babies is in distress" the doctor said. Bucky helped me turn onto my back again and the Doctor started pushing around at my stomach.

"Ow!!!" I cried out in discomfort squeezing Bucky's hand.

"What are you doing!?" Bucky snapped at him looking like he was ready to murder the doctor.

"Im trying to turn the babies a bit, i think one of them may have the cord trapped...." he said as he continued trying to manipulate the babies positioning. Suddenly the alarm stopped beeping and he stepped back to the machine.

"Y/N, i think we're going to have to perform a c-section. The babies are in distress and your not dilated enough yet to do this naturally. Usually we'd give you some medication to help you along but i really don't want to leave them much longer. The quicker we can get them out the better" 

"Okay.... whatever you think is best Doc. I just want my babies to be safe"

"Nurse go tell them to prep the OR"

"Yes Doctor" she said quickly before rushing out.

"Lets go have these babies shall we?"

I nodded at the Doctor and turned to look at Bucky "Buck im scared"

"You'll be fine baby, i'll be right there. You've got this" he smiled kissing me quickly.

"I'll wait in the waiting room, good luck sweetheart" Steve beamed down at me pressing a kiss to my head before hugging Bucky. The nurse came back with a porter who pulled my bed out and started wheeling me down towards the OR, Bucky walking along side me holding my hand as we got ready to meet our newest additions.

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[glenncoco4]

Choices

Alternate plot to 9x23

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kensi tries as best as she can to hold back her tears as she, Sam and Callen continue to layout their plan. She’s not sure if they’re tears of anger or sadness but what she does know is that she’s never felt so defeated in her life. 

Walking out the mission door, she heads to the Audi for her go bag. 

Just as she walks back into the bullpen she sees the tech operator running down the stairs. “Kens.”

She takes a deep breath, whatever he’s about to say she really doesn’t want to hear it right now. Get the kid and get back is all she’s focused on. “Not now, Eric.”

“It’s Deeks.”

“Just tell him I’m busy.” Her focus stays on the map before her as she goes over the mission plan one more time in her head.

“Kensi.”

The tone in his voice catches her off-guard and she quickly turns her attention the blonde whose got an unsettled look on his face. “What?” 

For a brief moment he’s paralyzed. He can’t get out the words that so desperately need to be spoken.

“Eric, what happened?” Kensi abandons the bullpen and is about to come up the stairs when his next words stop her in her tracks. 

“I just heard over the scanner…Deeks was driving home and his truck got t-boned by a semi.”

No. No. This is not happening. “What?”

“Kensi, I don’t-“ A ringing interrupts him, cutting him off from finishing the rest of his sentence. 

Quickly pulling her phone out of her pocket, the brunette answers, combing her fingers through her hair worriedly. “Mikey, how is he?”

“It’s not looking good, Kensi.”

She paces back and forth in front of the bullpen trying to gather as much  information as she can before getting behind the steering wheel. “Where are they taking him?”

“Cedars.”

“I’m on my way.” With out saying another word she walks as fast as she can down the tunnel. She’s got to get to him.

Callen brow furrows in concern when he sees a distraught Kensi sprint towards her car and quickly walks over to her before she has time to drive off. “What’s going on?”

Her voice shakes answering him but not turning to look at him as she hops into the drive seat. “Deeks got t-boned by a semi.”

“Go. We have this handled.”

She starts the car with one last parting before driving off into the dark early morning streets of LA. “Thanks, but I was going with or without your permission.”

XXXX

She rushes into the ER looking around the chaotic room when she finally spots him. “Oh my god.”

A frazzled nurse walks up to her alerted when she sees the tears in Kensi’s eyes. “Excuse me, miss, can I help you?”

Kensi’s eyes stay focused on Deeks’ still form as a swarm of doctors and nurses poke and prod at his body. “That’s my fiancé.”

“Oh.” 

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Right now he’s stable but they have to rush him into emergency surgery. A large piece of glass nicked his heart.”

She takes a few strides meeting the gurney as they begin wheeling him down the hallway. Taking hold of his free hand, she has to say something, something that will keep him fighting. “Deeks. Baby, I need you to fight. I need you to fight because I can’t lose you.  I love you so much. Just fight like I know-“

Before she can get another word out the heart monitor goes crazy and she’s pushed aside by a nurse as she grabs the other side of the gurney and they charge the double doors towards the OR. “He’s crashing. Code blue.”

Those are the last words she hears before he’s pushed around the corner and suddenly out of sight. Her legs give out and she crumples against the wall, burrowing her face in her hand. He can’t die. Not now, not ever. 

XXXX

She hasn’t been able to sit down for the past 2 hours. Her mind is all over the place wondering how he’s doing.

“Miss. Blye?”

She quickly spins around at the sound of her name and walks over towards the doctor. “How is he?”

The redhead woman smiles reassuringly at the brunette putting Kensi somewhat at ease. “We almost lost him but he’s stable now. As you know a piece of glass nicked his heart, luckily it wasn’t that large and we were able to close the wound fairly quick. He’s also got a broken arm and some internal bleeding, but he’s gonna make it.”

“Can I see him?”

“Gives us about 20 minutes and I’ll have a nurse bring you to his room.”

Kensi shakes the woman’s hand unbelievably grateful that the man she loves is still breathing. “Thank you, doctor.”

XXXX

6 hours later

He slowly opens his eyes, becoming aware of his surroundings and the incessant beeping in his left ear. As he scans the room his gaze stops when it lands on a the familiar head of hair and the most beautiful face he’s ever laid his eyes on. Her eyes are closed and he suddenly realizes that the last time he saw those mismatched chocolate orbs that he so deeply loves were full of tears. 

That could’ve been the last time he ever got to see her and it terrifies him. 

His eyes roam her features taking her in, her head laying on top of his hand with her ring proudly displayed on her left hand which is kinda surprising to him. 

At the feeling of movement she startles awake, tears already springing to her eyes when she sees his beautiful cerulean blues. “Shouldn’t you be in Mexico?”

“Are you insane? You almost died, why on earth would I be in Mexico right now?” She can’t hide the sadness in her voice at his assumption. How could he think for one minute that she would be off in some other country when he needed her.

“I just thought-“

“No, Deeks, no. I love you and I know we have some things to work out and we may fight some times but know this…if I ever have to choose between you and the job, I’m choosing you.”

“That didn’t seem like the case earlier.” He looks down at their intertwined fingers, his eyes focusing on her ring as he rubs his thumb across the diamonds. 

“Well, I was just frustrated earlier and…”

“And what?”

“I was scared.”

He looks up so fast that he almost gives himself whiplash. “Baby, why on earth were you scared? You have nothing to be afraid of.”

Seeing the concern in his eyes, she bites her lip worried about what might come tumbling out. “Well I was and it has everything to do with you.”

“Me?”

“You just had our whole life planned out and you started talking about having kids.”

His brow furrows he’s not really sure if its the anesthesia that’s making it hard for him to follow or what. 

“And I know you want kids, I do too.”

“You-you do?”

“Of course I do but you have to understand that it’s different for women especially women in our line of work. I love my job, you know how much I love my job.”

“I do know.”

A teary eyed smile crosses her face when he places his hand against her cheek. It may be cheesy but just the feel of his touch gives her the courage and strength to gather her feelings and tell him what’s been running around in her head for so long. “But I love you more and that scares me. Ever since my dad died I’ve only had myself to rely on and I’ve never counted on anyone else for my happiness. For a long time NCIS was my happiness, I knew that I would be content in the life I had if I got to help others, but then I fell in love with you. We got engaged and I was happy-am happy. Bringing kids into our life would make me even more happy but then while I was trying to talk to Mosley to calm her down she said something to me that struck a nerve.”

“What did she say to you?”

“I told her that maybe one day I would understand…but she took it a different way than what I meant. It rattled me because it’s happened to us before.”

Now he’s really confused. “What do you mean?”

“Remember our conversation after you got tortured?”

“The one in the bullpen?”

A soft smile crosses her features when she thinks back to that day, the good part of that day when he told her that she was what got him through probably the most painful time in his life but her smile quickly disappears at the reason for his need to focus on her. “Yeah, I said I know what you’re going through and you said you hope that I never do but a few months later I did.”

That’s when everything starts to makes sense. The way she suddenly changed her mind or rather off-put about the thought of having kids. “And you think the same thing would happen to our kid as Mosley’s.”

She looks down afraid of the disappointment that she may see in his eyes.  “I know its irrational but-“

“No, no it’s not.” His heart breaks at the smallness in her voice. He places his finger under her chin, tilting her head up so that she’ll look at him. “Don’t hit me for what I’m about to say but you sound just like a mother.”

“I do?”

“Kens, the fact that you’re worried about the wellbeing for our hypothetical child - baby, that’s what every good parent goes through. What you’re feeling is normal, I just wish you would talk to me about it.”

“What do think I’m doing now?” Her lip curls into a smirk.

He huffs a laugh. God he loves this woman. “Touché.”

There’s a beat of silence as their eyes stay locked before he finally works up the nerve to ask her. “So we’re gonna work this out?”

She shakes her head. They’re a mess but they’re a perfect mess. “We were never not gonna work this out. But I need you do something for me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Promise you’ll be patient with me.”

He rolls his eyes because even though she’s being completely serious right now he knows she needs a good laugh. “Please, I’ve been patient with you ever since I met you.”

She scrunches her noses knowing exactly what he’s trying to do. Standing up, she scoots closer towards the head of the bed, her hand finding the scruff of his jaw. 

He lays his hand atop of her and relishes in the feel of her touch. “I need you to promise me something too.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll marry me and spend the rest of your life with me.”

This time when the tear falls down her cheek its from happiness…pure elation. She leans forward bringing her lips to his. It’s not the most passionate kiss they’ve ever had, but they have all the time in the world for that. “I can do that.”

“I love you.” He leans in for another kiss, smiling.

Once their lips part they don’t lose contact for long as she places her forehead against his. “I love you.”

[ranposlittle]

hello darling.Um can I request mori scenario where he found out that his girlfriend got hit by the car and she is currently unconscious.Make it fluffy fluffy in the end please 🥺🥺🥺

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Tags: Accident, Comfort

A/N: Aah my first request! Thank you so much for sending this in! I had so much fun writing Mori in this way that it's longer than I expected~ I fudged up the plot a little bcos my brain thought you asked for reader-chan in a car accident instead of getting hit. It's still kind of similar so I hope you'll still like this and it's fluffy enough! (;ŏ﹏ŏ) I also hope you like the little Mori I created on Pastel Friends haha! Feel free to send another ask if you would want~ 💕

Small gasps and low whispers echoed throughout the hospital hallways as a group of suit clad men stormed in. They stopped for nothing and no one dared to get in their way. Everybody is well aware of who these men are and what they do, they don’t need to state their business to anyone. People in wheelchairs would push themselves aside with all of their arm strength to give way to this stride, especially since the tall man in the middle looks horribly pissed.

It is rare for Mori to be sighted in any public places such as this hospital particularly wearing his “mafia boss” outfit but given the importance of the situation, he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t bother disguising as your friendly neighborhood physician and maybe sneak his way inside. He needed to see you as soon as he heard the report. Mori’s scowl deepened and his clenched fists tightened as he remembers the exact reason why he barged in here in the first place.

They stopped at the room at the end of the hall. His subordinates stood guard outside as Mori practically bust the door open and marched inside.

A doctor and a nurse was within the room and they both gasped at the intrusion. They were held back by one of his men to keep them from interrupting as Mori towered over your layed body.

He bit his lower lip as he swallowed back a whimper that formed on his throat when he saw you in your current state. Although, he’s thankful that your predicament wasn’t caused by the fact that you’re in a relationship with him nor for his notoriety, it doesn’t mean that his heart didn’t dropped on the floor at the mention of you getting into a bad accident.

“What happened?” He asked in almost a whisper, directed to the doctor.

“Are you a relative of the patient?” Mori’s head whipped to face the doctor, his stare is as sharp as his own scalpel and for a second, he was considering to take it out and end him for such an insolent question. However, Mori was never a man to let his emotions dictate his actions. With just a look, his subordinate pressed the mouth of his pistol against the doctor’s temple, eliciting a quivering cry before he gulped dryly and began to explain.

“I-It was an accident near the highway. The responders said that the car tipped over when it avoided a speeding truck on a curve and the car rolled down the wooded area beside the road,” Mori bit back another sob and gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep his composure.

“They’re unconscious right now because of a head trauma, possibly due to hitting the roof of the car when it rolled over. There’s a mild hematoma but we’re closely monitoring it until the blood clot is resorbed naturally. Although, it might take a while,” the doctor continued. Mori studied your face and saw the damage the incident left you with. Even though the cuts were properly stitched and your scrapes carefully bandaged, he can’t help but feel a pinch on his chest. As if the pain from your physical injuries bounced back to him and his heart took all the blows.

“There were also some broken bones on their arm and leg so we needed to cast it. The car landed rather harshly on their side so their limbs took a hard beating. A neck brace was also necessary for a minor dislocation of vertebrae,” as the doctor elaborated on the extent of your condition, Mori’s chest grew tighter and heavier. His heart sending pangs of pain throughout his whole being and it just keeps on going. He held your free hand tightly. Your skin felt so soft and gentle on his calloused ones that it sent another big wave of pain from his heart by the thought that he failed to protect you and he couldn’t have prevented this despite the immense power he possesses.

From the way that his eyes are burning right now, he knew that the waterworks are coming. He can’t help it and he’s honestly too hurt to even want to try and prevent it from happening. So with a wave of his hand, his subordinate was dismissed and left the room along with the doctor and nurse.

He took the seat right beside you and slumped. It felt good to finally let his shaking knees rest as it struggle to keep him from breaking down while in front of other people. He held your hand close to his face and looked at your beaten up image one more time. Mori maybe known for being ruthless and perhaps heartless, but he treats his people in a certain level of respect and the concept of loss was never a friend of his. So, it is a different level of frustration and sadness for him to think that he could’ve lost you, a person whom he holds in a much higher praise than any one in his world right now. You’re neither under him nor above him; you’re beside him on his throne.

Mori buried his face on your hand and laid his armor down. He let the tears flowed out of his eyes and onto your delicate hand as he feels deep inside, the human left in him.

You can hear a slow but steady beeping sound as you slowly opened your eyes, a bright light filling up your vision. You slowly started to feel your aching body, your heavy head and the weight on your hand. You slowly turned your strained neck to the side only to see a view you’re thankful you’re still living to witness. Mori sleeping is a sight you never get tired of watching. You never cease to appreciate how vulnerable he is in that state and how he let himself be exactly that when he’s with you. His head’s laying on his hands on top of yours. You wanted to caress his hair as you always do during the countless nights you’ve shared the bed together but quickly realized that your other hand is immovable due to the cast it’s enclosed in.

“Mori,” you called out softly. Your voice sounded so rasp and tired but to Mori, it sounded like an angel summoning him back to life. He woke up with a slight jump, his mouth agaped in a quiet surprise and his eyes wide.

He muttered your name with a slight disbelief and excitement on his voice. This made you smile despite the prickling pain of your facial injuries. You untangled your hand from his to reach up as high as you can and touched the side of his face. His facial hair has grown into a stubble and it tickled your palm a little. He once again put his hand atop of yours and pressed his cheek further onto your palm. Mori’s eyes were soft, restrained tears clouding its purple shade. His wide smile spilled warmth throughout your battered body and mind.

“How long was I out?” You inquired while rubbing your thumbs on his cheek.

“About three days. You surely took your time,” he chuckled lightly.

“Did I made you cry?” Your question took him slightly abacked. Mori may not be famous for it but you know well about his caring side. He shamelessly showcased how gentle and nurturing he can be with you and he knows that he didn’t even have to answer your question for you to know that he undoubtedly did.

“Am I going to get in trouble for that? Go ahead and punish me,” you jested. You wanted to lighten up the mood for the both of you as you can also feel your tears straining from your eyes. Mori’s laugh echoed through the room and made your heart flutter.

“Go on. I thought you’re into bondage, I’m practically immobile right now. This is your biggest opportunity. You can do whatever you want to do with me,” you went on and placed your hand behind your head in mock seduction. He blinked at you but a smirk suddenly crept up his lips.

“You know what? You’re right. I should take advantage of you,” he said standing up to take the tray filled with food from the side table. Mori spooned the soup and placed it near your mouth.

“Open up for the airplane,” now it was his turn to tease. You moved your head back and protested.

“What are you doing? I’m trying to be sexy here,” you giggled. He just follows your mouth with the spoon when you would move your head from side to side, trying to avoid his ministration.

“You said that I can do whatever I want with you. So, I’m taking care of you. That’s what I want to do,” Mori’s words made you froze. You stared at him wide-eyed and he just smiled at you, his eyes affirming what you’re already thinking.

You might’ve been together for quite awhile now but Mori’s sudden display of emotion and affection still hasn’t failed to shock you every time. You lowered your head in an effort to hide your blush even though you’re not even sure if it’ll show up with all the bruises on your face. You opened your mouth and took in the spoonful of soup. It wasn’t as warm as you hoped it would be but your disappointment quickly dissipated when Mori wrapped you in a loving embrace.

“What’s wrong?” You asked quite concerned for the man. You rubbed his back with your free hand to comfort him and also, to let him know that you appreciate the gesture.

“I just never thought I’d tell you how scared I am of actually losing you,” Mori’s deep voice vibrated through your ear and his words squeezed on your heart.

Everyone in Yokohama would quake in their boots when faced with this man. This man, who stops at nothing and would do even the most despicable acts just to attain his goals, is holding you softly in his arms. This man, who would carelessly manipulate the people around him and use them as pawns to his battles, cares so deeply for you that he doesn’t mind showing off his weakness as a human.

You clutched tightly on his back as the tears you desperately held back dropped on the side of your face when you smiled.

“You’re making me feel guilty for worrying you, huh?” You joked light-heartedly and Mori chuckled even if you can hear the hitch on his breath from all the sobs he pushed back down.

“Yes,” he playfully replied and moved back from the hug to cup your face.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled as another tear rolled out of your eyes. Mori wiped the wetness on your cheeks from the tears that streamed down and gave you another comforting smile.

“If you really are then, why don’t you make it up to me?” Mori leaned down and weaved his lips affectionately onto yours.

His lips fit yours perfectly and you felt like it has been forever since you’ve kissed him. You thought of how dreadful it must’ve been to not be able to be with him like this ever again if the accident was much worse than it was. You imagined how your soul will long for him and how you’ll patiently spend many lifetimes just to find him again. It wouldn’t matter if he’ll still be the monster that other people think he is or he’ll be the friendly doctor he often poses to be, you know your souls will recognize each other no matter what. He may be known for taking away lives but Mori’s the main reason why you still want to live right now and similarly, your life is the only one that matters to him.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 23

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Twenty-Three, My Heart Beats for You

Ava

Present

"Dean," I whispered, holding his hand. They'd put him in a medically induced coma. He was beaten so badly this week that he had swelling on his brain, but they assured me he would be awake soon. Castiel had wooshed into the cabin and told Sam and I what happened. I wasn't happy, to say the least. I'd been at the hospital for the last eleven hours. He was supposed to be waking up within the next hour. They'd need to wean him off the medication, and then he should wake up. Should.

"Hey," Sam said, poking his head into the room. "Look who came to visit."

He walked in holding Nel against his chest. I couldn't help it, I started to sob. I stood up and took my baby in my arms. "Hey little one. Daddy is going to be okay." She reached up and touched my wet cheek with her pudgy little fingers, as if she was comforting me.

"He will," Sam promised, wiping my tears.

"We shouldn't have left." I sniffled, rocking Nel in my arms. She tugged on my hair, but I barely noticed. 

"From what it sounded like, it wouldn't have made a difference. They took him."

"Fucking angels.." My eyes perked up as I saw the familiar beige trench coat in the corner of my eye. "Castiel," I growled.

"How is his condition?" The angel asked flatly.

"Can we talk outside?" I asked with my jaw tight.

He nodded quickly, and I looked to Sam, signaling him to stay by Deans side.

I pulled Castiel into the hallway and shut the door behind me.

"You need to heal him," I said insistently. "Now."

"It isn't that simple, Ava."

"Bullshit. He is hurt because of you. He didn't ask for this."

"I know. Dean’s fate is out of my control."

"Do I get an express trip to Hell if I bitch slap an angel?"

Castiel frowned. "Dean is a good man. This was not my choice. I did not want to involve him."

"Then why did you?"

"It wasn't my call."

I pursed my lips and looked at my daughter that was sucking on her hands. "Do you see her?" I asked, turning her out so he could see her face. "I am grateful to you, Castiel. You brought my husband back. Now our daughter gets to know her father. I will never be able to thank you enough for that, but don't you dare tell me you brought him back just to dangle him in front of me, and let him die now." I freely let my tears escape my cheeks.

"He is a wonderful man," I continued. "He deserves to know his daughter."

Castiel winced at my words. Maybe he was more human than I gave him credit for.

"Please help him," I begged. 

His eyes flickered to mine. "It is not ethical for me to heal all of his injuries."

"But?"

"But I will take care of the serious ones. It was Uriel that allowed him to be injured. I will take responsibility for that oversight."

Cas started to walk into the room. I grabbed his coat sleeve. "Cas, listen to me. I know all about fate. I know about people expecting things from you," I said low, just to him. "So does Dean. You can think for yourself, you know. The moment you start doing what you want to do, that's when you can be a honorable man, and honor means a lot to my husband. There isn't much he won't do for those he considers family, for those who fight alongside us." I let go of his sleeve, but he still seemed frozen in place. "Just something to mull on."

I walked back into the room, following Cas. He walked to Dean, and slowly pressed his palm to Deans forehead.

"What is..." Sam began.

I reached for his hand, to silence him.

Castiel closed his eyes and a warm light came out of his palm. The monitors attached to Dean seemed to even out. The beeps beam more methodic and less strained. He removed his hand, and I let out a sob of relief as Deans eyes slowly fluttered open.

I let go of Sam's hand and hurried to his side.

"Ave?" He asked, sounding pretty drowsy.

"It's me," I said gently. Nel reached for him with her fat fist and he smiled, taking her small hand in his.

“There's my girls."

I heard Sam and Cas leave, but I didn't see them. I couldn't take my eyes off of Dean. He was okay. "You're such a drama queen," I said, blinking away tears. "Always have to be the center of attention.."

"You know me." He smiled easily. Guess his jaw was fixed, too. "Hey,” he murmured wiping a tear from my cheek. "Don't cry, sweetheart."

"I'm just happy you're okay. We both are."

He leaned forward and kissed Nels face, and then paused. "You're back."

"I'm back back.” I put my hand in his. "There's no one else for me, Dean. My heart beats for you," I said, accepting how lame it sounded.

"You just sayin that because I'm hurt?"

"Cas healed you," I said with a smile. "You're not that hurt."

He frowned and sat up slowly. "He did what?"

"He healed you. He said he couldn't heal you completely, because the angels would be angry... but yeah. He saved your life."

"At what cost?"

"Honor." I smiled a bit.

"Honor?"

"Need to get your ears checked?"

"Maybe." He smiled, and opened his arms. "Come 'ere."

I crawled into his arms, and Nel and I laid against his chest, between his legs.

"You sure you picked the right Winchester?"

"There was never any choice," I murmured against his chest. "From that first day in the bar we were supposed to be together. Look at our family, Dean." I gestured to the baby that had fallen asleep in our arms. "She is all the proof I need." I kissed his chest, over his heart. "The fact that you're here, is all the proof I need. Sam is my best friend. That's it. That's all it ever was. All it ever will be."

He smiled and leaned down to capture my lips in his. I smiled against his lips, feeling the warmth of his chapped lips against mine. He tasted like hospital, but when his tongue touched mine I felt a shock I run through me. We were alive, and we were together. Maybe the world would burn down around us, but when the three of us were curled together like this, I felt invincible. Nothing else mattered.

Ella

About 16 years later

"I have a surprise for you," Claire said, leaning against the doorway to my room.

"Oh?" I looked up from my book I was reading. I was laying on my stomach with my feet in the air.

"Yup,” she said walking to me. She crouched in front of me and held out a rose corsage.

"What the fuck, Claire?" I grabbed it from her and stumbled to sit up. "What is this?"

"It's a corsage." She blinked her beautiful blue eyes at me like duh.

"I know, but why?"

"Well, homecoming is coming up..."

I scooted to the end of the bed and took her hands in mine. "Claire Novak I told you I don't want to go to stupid homecoming. I don't need to wear a dress and be all vapid and take photos and dance. It's all so... pointless."

"Babe,” she said with a mischievous grin. "Do you think I don't know you at all?"

"Is that a trick question?" I asked, eyeing her.

"Yes." Claire grinned. "We aren't going to homecoming."

"Thank god. Then why did you get me the flower?"

"Because, I convinced the Three Stooges that although you don't want to go to homecoming, you'd like to have some kind of homecoming. I asked if they could make themselves scarce so we could have homecoming alone in the bunker. They're surprisingly romantic." She grinned.

I eyed her. "So what? We are going to spend the whole night in bed?"

"I thought we would actually ransack the bunker for clues about your mom." She wrapped her arms around my waist, leaning in to kiss my neck. "But if you'd rather stay in bed, I could get behind that plan."

"Claire!" I grinned, tackling her on the bed. I pinned her arms down. "This is the best thing I've ever heard. You're a genius."

"Yes I am." She grinned widely. "Now kiss me, Winchester."

"Yes, mam." I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.

"Now the only bad news is, they're decorating," Claire said gently when we finally pulled away for some air. "So we may actually have to get dressed so they can take our pictures."

"I thought the perks of not having a mom would be not having to do all the embarrassing pictures."

"The three of them are so much worse than a mom," Claire said, squeezing my hand. "But they love you, so I'm not mad about it."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help smiling. She was right. "What am I supposed to wear to a bunker homecoming dance?"

"This," Claire said, walking into the closet and pulling out a dress that she must've stashed earlier in the week. It was green and made of tulle. The back was low and the top was a deep v.

I raised my eyebrow. "Did you pick that out?"

"I can appreciate the finer things," Claire said, pretending to be offended. "You look beautiful in green."

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me."

"I swear, Claire Novak, if you show up wearing jeans and a T-shirt I am coming for you."

"Promise you'll come for me?" She grinned tossing the dress on the bed before wrapping her arms around me.

I rolled my eyes, but my smile was growing on my cheeks. "Later," I promised giving her a quick kiss. "Let's get ready so we can kick them out."

"Deal," Claire said, making her way to her bedroom. She had her own room, but she spent all of her time in mine. Dad was just happy she couldn't get me pregnant, so I don't think it really bothered him. From all the stories I hear about him, he shouldn't be the romantic he is. He should be a player, but I see him differently.

I sat in front of my vanity and plugged in my curling iron. I barley ever did my hair and makeup, it seemed pointless to waste time on something so shallow. People found Claire and I so odd. We were opposites. I was a nerd and she was a badass. She liked dark makeup and cool edgy braids. I barely did anything to my appearance. She had the classic biker, badass clothes and I wore sweaters and nerdy T-shirt's exclusively. We didn't make sense to the world, but we made sense to each other.

I wasn't going to go crazy with the makeup, but Claire was doing a really amazing thing for me. I wanted to look nice for her. I put on my foundation, which was starting to dry out from lack of use, and I thought about my Mom.

I wondered if she liked dances when she was young, or if she thought they were lame. I put the nude lipstick on and fluffed my eyelashes with mascara. I looked like a different person. I looked kind of pretty.

I twisted my hair in the iron, burning my fingers. "Fuck." I shook my hand.

"Hey sailor," Dad said, poking his head in.

"Hey Dad. Sorry for the F bomb."

"You are my kid." He shrugged.

"Thanks for letting us have the place. It's really cool."

"You deserve it. You work really hard."

I turned and looked at him, deciding to test the water. "Sometimes I wish mom was here for this stuff."

"Me too,” he said, his jaw tight. "She never wanted you to grow up without her. She grew up without her mom just like me, and it was really hard for her."

I met his eyes. He was in pain. "Can you curl the back?"

"Sure,” he said relieved of the subject change.

He always did my hair when I was little. He would braid it, and when I got older he learned the hot tools. He effortlessly fixed the part of my hair I couldn't reach. "I'm going to put a braid in,” he said, focusing. "I think it'll look nice."

I shrugged, and he braided my hair back. He showed me in the mirror and I grinned. "If hunting doesn't work out you should be a hair dresser."

He grunted, as he turned for the door. "Yeah, you're welcome."

"Dad," I said grabbing his hand.

"Huh? Yeah?" He turned to me.

"I don't mean to hurt you by bringing her up. You know that, right? I wish she was here, but it isn't because you aren't enough."

His eyes softened and he smiled. "I know, El." He leaned down and kissed my head. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do tonight."

"You got it." I winked at him.

I got into my dress and made my way out into the dinning room that was transformed. My three Dads really missed their calling. They should start a party planning business. They strung Christmas lights around to make the whole room sparkle, and there were clear and black balloons littering the ground. Music was playing over the speakers, and to my surprise it wasn't classic rock. I raised an eyebrow at Dad and he gestured to Sam.

My eyes finally landed on the most spectacular thing in the room. Claire. Her hair was down and rolling in flawless curls down her back. She had let out her braids and it made her whole expression a lot softer. Her lips were red as she smiled widely at me. Her dress was tight, short, and black. She was wearing heels. "Wow." We both gasped at the same time.

I walked to her and took her hands. "My girlfriend is hot." I grinned.

"So is mine." She squeezed my hands.

We leaned in and kissed and Cas applauded. "Young love is very nice."

We turned to him and busted up laughing.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said with a smile. "Nothing at all."

"Get together," Dad said, holding out his phone to take a photo.

We put our arms around each other and he took a few. "You look great." He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "Novak, take care of my girl."

"Always, old man." She smiled.

He frowned, looking annoyed. "I am not old,” he grumbled.

"Alright," Sam said, picking up his duffle bag. "We are checking out a haunting in Iowa, so we should be back tomorrow. We will be in touch if it's longer."

I studied the men. A haunting. I wondered if they were lying. If they were really finding a solution for Micheal. I hoped they were.

"Sounds good," I said forcing a smile. I walked to Dad and wrapped my arms around his middle. "Be safe," I breathed.

When I was a kid it was so hard watching him go. I would cry and scream.

"Hey, kiddo. You're okay. Dad will be back."

"But the monsters..."

"Monsters are scared of Daddy. I am a monster hunter." He poked my nose. "Don't you worry, kiddo. I'll always come home to you."

"Always?"

"You got it."

"You got it." He smiled, kissing the top of my head.

We watched them go and with the click of the door I met Claire's eyes. "Operation Mom is a go."

Claire kicked off her heels. "Wanna see the best part of this dress?" She said, eyeing mine.

"Yeah."

She grabbed the waist and pulled out a string and with a tug the skirt came off, and I stood in a green satin romper. "This is awesome." I grinned. I felt the legs of the romper, but I figured it was just modest.

"I know my girl,” she said, placing a kiss on my lips. "Now lets do this shit."

Claire found the blueprints for the bunker in a desk in the corner. "Now, if I was Dean Winchester and I wanted to hide something...where would I do it?"

"Well, its not under his pillow or mattress. I already checked," I said, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"What's this?" Claire asked pointing to a door at the end of a hallway. The hallway Dad's room was in. "Isn't this a dead end?"

My eyes flickered to hers. "Yeah, it is."

Claire grabbed her knife and we made our way to the hallway. I knocked on the wall, listening intently. There was an echo. "It's hollow."

Claire ran her fingers along the wall until she found the groove. She jimmied her knife into the edge and it swung open. "Secret passageway,” she mused. "Just when I thought this place couldn't get any cooler."

It lead to a set of stairs that we descended. It was dark, but as we passed by the lights flickered to life. It was just a set of boxes in a big empty room. I walked to them crouching, and sure enough, we found the fucking jackpot. "Claire look," I said, blowing dust off a framed photograph. It was of my parents on a beach. They were kissing. My dad looked so young it made my heart squeeze. "I think this is there wedding." I ran my fingers over the picture. Uncle Sam was in the background, and he was grinning widely and clapping. The photo seemed like it could be from another life. I guess it was.

"They look really happy Ella," Claire said gently. "I can't believe that Dean Winchester is on a beach." She squinted at the photo. 

"Right?" I smiled, touching his cheek on the photo. "He loved her, didn't he?"

"I think he did," Claire said with a nod.

I sat down the photo, and dug back into the box. There were photos all throughout the box. Some of me as a baby, one from the hospital when I was born. I squinted, pulling them out one by one. Uncle Sam sat behind my mom, his arms around her. She held me in her arms. She looked like she was crying. Maybe Dad was behind her?

"What'd you find?" Claire asked, raising her eyebrows.

I handed her the photo. "Do you think Dad took this photo?"

She frowned and looked over the photo.

"It's weird right?" I questioned, looking over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Claire admitted. "It is kind of weird."

I reached into the box and pulled out a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it to find a letter written in what I had to assume was my moms handwriting.

Dear baby,

Your dad asked me to marry him today. He's an idiot. He made a choice for us without consulting me, but don't worry we aren't fighting about it. I know he did it for the greater good. He saved us, you and me. He traded his life for ours, and I will make sure throughout your life that it wasn't made in vain. We will make him proud.

I've talked about him a bit to you, but let me tell you in a little more detail, since you won't get to meet him.

He is strong. You can tell physically by looking at him, but it is so much more than bronze. I've seen him make hard choices, impossible ones. When he isn't looking at me it's like he's seeing into his past, but he doesn't let it break him.

He is funny. He has these annoying one liners. Sometimes they're a little hit or miss, but the thing is that your Dad is funny. Even when his jokes aren't, he gets this proud look on his face. He laughs at himself, and that's a skill everyone needs to survive in this world.

He loves his damn car. I promise that I will keep it around so when you learn to drive you can learn on that same 67 Chevy Impala, just like he would want. It was your Grandpas and then it was your Dads. He loves that car.

He has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever seen. I can see it when he looks at me. He would die for us, and for Uncle Sam. He puts himself on the line every day to protect the innocent. He is a hero.

So, maybe you're wondering why I didn't marry him. Why I said no. Why I said he's an idiot.

Well, he is.

He thinks a ring can erase what's to come. I wish I could protect you from the darkness, baby, but you are a Winchester. So I have a feeling darkness will always come for us. There is some coming already. By the time you read this that will be passed. You will be big, and strong just like your Dad.

A ring is just a circle. A wedding is just a party. It doesn't define anything. It doesn't put a price on how much I love him. It doesn't make any of this any easier. It won't bring him back to us.

I always want you to know, that even if we can't see him, your Dad is always with us. I carry him with me, in my heart, where I will also carry you. I want you to know that I love him. I always have, and I always will.

I ran my fingers over the smudge on the word define. "Claire," I whispered. "There's something going on." Why wouldn't I have met him? What the fuck is going on? I showed Claire the letter and she frowned. "He's been lying to me. She didn't think he was going to make it. What do you think she meant by trading his life for ours?"

"She said she wasn't going to marry him," Claire said slowly. "But we know she did." She reached into the box and pulled something out. She opened her fist to show me a ring in it. I took it out of her hand. A pair shaped diamond.

"She said he wasn't going to be here when I grew up, but he's here and she's not. She said she wasn't going to marry him... then she did. What changed?" I asked, rolling the ring in my hand. "I know it hurts him when I ask about her. I know he doesn't like it... But I can't do this shit anymore, Claire. I have to know what happened. Something changed after she wrote this. I have to know."

"You deserve to know," Claire said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I met her eyes. "I'm so worried about him, Claire. What if this ruins our relationship? He obviously doesn't want to talk about it for a reason..."

"He loves you. There's nothing you can do to ruin your relationship," Claire said, looking a little annoyed. "You're his kid, Ella. It's not up to you to worry about his feelings. He shouldn't keep your mom from you. It's selfish. You have what you need, and when he comes back you need to talk to him. It's time that you get the answers you need."

Dean

About 16 years later

"El we're back!" I said, walking in the door. I rubbed my head, I could feel Michael pushing against my skull, begging to get out. I shook my head. "El?" I walked back to her room.

"Hey kid," I said, poking my head into the room. I stopped in my tracks. She sat crisscrossed in the middle of her bed. She was surrounded by papers and photography. She was wearing Ava's favorite sweatshirt.

I swallowed hard.

"Dad we need to talk,” she said looking up at me.

I knew her whole life that eventually she would ask about her mom. That I would have to tell her everything, I just kind of hoped I'd be on my death bed when it happened.

She held out a piece of paper, and I walked to her, taking the paper from her. It was the letter from the night that I asked her to marry me. The night she agreed to be my wife. I blinked away a tear that threatened to escape me.

"Dad what is this? I deserve to know. I can't take anymore lies from you."

I looked at my daughter. She was the spitting image of Ava. I couldn't help but smile. "Okay," I sighed. "Truth?"

"Truth."

—————

Chapter Twenty-Four, No One Ever Told You 

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When This Blows Over: Chapter 4

Can also be read here

Continued from here

“The variants are loose, the doctors are dead, and I have no one but myself to count on to clean up this mess.”

I avoided Gluskin thanks to Rick, but any graciousness I had faded with each step I took.

The cut he left me with drained enough blood to exhaust me, and every breath hurt like a bitch

Why couldn’t he have waited until after this shitstorm to get even with me? He must have known it was me before he attacked. No one could be that long gone, but the bastard did it anyways. I’d have understood if he wanted me to die here, but why not just let me walk right into Gluskin’s territory? Or tear me apart right then and there like the other executives?

Oh, God. It hurt too much to make sense of Rick’s bullshit. He was enough of a headache when he was sane.

I shook him from my thoughts and held up my hand that held the wound as I walked. It was covered in red.

Though the exit was within my reach, I couldn’t ignore this any longer.

I spotted a bathroom door, and stumbled in. There was enough blood on the tile to make me slip, but I caught the sink to steady myself.

For the first time since this all started, I looked at myself in the mirror.

Pale skin, glazed over eyes, sweat matting my hair to my forehead. I almost looked as bad as the variants.

Then all the blood on this shirt. A shame since I just got this one, but it reminded me of the situation at hand. As much as I wanted out of this hellhole, it would be for nothing if I died of blood loss as I walked out the door.

I was just glad this was a hospital and we had first aid kits all over the place. There was a container on the wall that I broke into for everything I needed to patch myself up. I then ran the water in the sink.

I half expected blood to flow through it, but thankfully it ran clear, cold water.

As I wiped away the blood, I found the cut much smaller than I expected. Just a narrow slash about as long as my index finger. I would have thought Rick gutted me alive with all the blood that came from the little thing. Still, one cut was all it took to hit something important, or cause an infection. Probably tetanus with the condition of those shears…

With the wound cleaned as best as I could with sink water and paper towels, I gritted my teeth for the disinfectant. My eyes watered as I stopped myself from crying out in pain with how much it stung. Getting stabbed again would have been easier to deal with, but I couldn’t risk making a sound when God knows what could be just outside the door. Instead I reminded myself that enduring this would be worth it when I got out of here.

It had to be.

Finally, I was able to apply the bandages and let the pain subside. It felt good to relax for a moment, but the relief was short lived as I watched the blood stain the bandages. Though the flow had slowed considerably, I would have worried if the exit weren’t so close I could taste it.

I splashed a bit of cold water on my face to wake myself up, straightened my hair out, and cracked the door open to peek outside.

Not a soul to be seen.

I made sure the door closed quietly behind me, then tip toed down the hallway, into the entrance lobby.

Through the blood, the carnage, the delusions scrawled in blood on the walls, I found relief at last. None of this was my problem anymore. All I had to do was walk out the door and one of Murk Tactical would get me to a hospital.

When the doctors asked what happened, I just had to spin up some bullshit story. Some lunatic robbed me at knifepoint after a long night at the bar. It happened all the time to dumbasses who stayed out too late.

No one would know the truth.

I reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

God dammit.

I should have known there was a catch. There was always a catch in this place.

No...it wasn’t that hard. I just had to breathe and think for a moment. For all this place’s horrors, it was the product of madness and savages.

I had my mind with me. I had the upper hand.

Though breathing hurt now, I managed a deep inhale and remembered the control room. It was just down the next hall, third door to the left. I could unlock the doors from there. I had the keycard, the passwords, everything.

I tightened my grip on the baton, and started on my way, but a variant’s body at my feet made me stumble slightly. I was about to kick it, when I noticed a glimmer, just out of his reach.

A kitchen knife. Nothing too spectacular, but sharp enough to cut the skin.

I glanced at my baton. It served me well to get me this far, but that was when I had the strength to make it so. A sharpened edge could make up for the shortcomings my wound gave me.

I shook my head. I was getting distracted from escape. I was mere minutes away from freedom. I just had to keep moving forward. It didn’t matter what weapon I had at this point. All of the variants were deeper into the asylum now. I was good as free.

Then I remembered that it was in a moment of carelessness that Rick cut me open.

I slipped the baton up my sleeve and snagged the knife, holding it before me as I started down the hall.

I checked over my shoulder at least a dozen times as I walked, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Not with the first door, neither the second.

I paused for just a moment to dig the keycard from my pocket for the third door, but I found it wasn’t necessary.

Someone or something had knocked the door from its hinges from the outside, so it lied on the floor inside the room.

My heart skipped a beat. I waited for one of the variants to lunge towards me and rip my throat off, but there was only the buzz of the monitors and a few quiet beeps.

I shook my head and stepped inside. Taking a seat at the keyboard, I started fiddling with the keys, when my eyes wandered to the monitors. It was just for a moment, but I saw a familiar face on one of them.

Waylon Park.

Looking like a lost child, he continued to roam those halls. I didn’t think it possible. I told myself I mistook an ordinary variant for Park, but then I saw that damned camera in his hand.

He was just so set on destroying everything we worked for and for what?

Even if he became a huge fucking hero and got all the praise, Murkoff would eliminate him. It wasn’t worth a few minutes of glory. He should have kept his mouth shut. He could have just gone home to his family and forget everything here like all the others. He just had to make things difficult, had to make me take care of it all myself, clean up his messes…

Still, I kept my cool. I was losing strength, and Park was still far from the exit. I may be able to watch him die without lifting a finger.

I leaned back in the chair and followed him on the monitors. Though there were several that would fade into static, and sometimes black, none of the ones with Park failed me.

As I watched, I noticed he limped as he walked. I couldn’t fight the grin. He might as well just give up right then and there. With Gluskin on his tail, he didn’t stand a chance, but no matter what, he didn’t stop trying to go forward.

Worst of all, his tries were successful.

Every damn one.

He escaped the groom’s territory in one piece, and then I recognized the hall that he hobbled down.

It led straight to the lobby.

Fuck.

I had to do it myself. Not even the Tactical team spotted him as he went by.

What were we even paying them for? They were told to shoot on sight. Why didn’t one of them see Park? Why didn’t they empty their bullets on him and smash that camera to bits? Wasn’t it enough that I survived this hell all by myself? Why did I have to be the one to kill the whistleblower with my own hands?

If nothing else, my rage distracted from the pain. I punched in the last code to open the door and stormed down the hall--carefulness be damned.

I made it back to the entrance, and shoved open the front door

In poured the morning light. I might have found it comforting if I didn’t have to worry about Park. Hell, it’d be the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen once I ended this.

I turned my back on the sun, and leaned against the frame, sinking to the floor.

Park would round that corner any moment. I couldn’t let him think I was a threat. He’d gotten too far to underestimate at this point.

Once he entered the lobby, I was clutching my wound, and no longer bothered to hide the pain.

“Mr. Park. How the fuck are you still alive,” I groaned. “Let’s...make a deal. You help me, I’ll help you.”

I couldn't read Park's expression as he stared at me.

“God, I’m stuck like a pig…” I clutched my wound tighter. “Help me up...please…”

He came towards me, but he looked only at the exit, rather than me. Not that it mattered, he was close enough for me to reach, and as he walked by me, I used what little strength I had to stand and land the knife in his stomach.

“No one can know!”

He was down now, gasping for breath, trying to stop the breath. Just one more hit for good measure. One more and it would all be over.

“No one can-”

Before I could finish him off, I heard that low hum.

It came at me before I could even think about running, lifted me into the air, surrounded me with that black swarm until it was all I saw.

The static was so loud I couldn’t hear my own screaming. It buzzed in my ears, scratched at my bones.

I felt my insides twist and turn. Like something dug its way through me, but I couldn’t even flail against its grip on me.

Even my scream cut short when some liquid gushed from my mouth, my ears, my nose, even from my eyes.

I no longer saw black. Only red.

[tricksterchris]

This has been an emotional roller coaster, I won’t lie.

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like johnlock.

You: Not dead. Let's have dinner. SH

Stranger: Sherlock. What an interesting way to tell John of your faked death. Unfortunately, he isn't able to use his phone right now. - MH

You: Oh brother mine, why is that? And why do you have his phone? SH

Stranger: I haven't had time to tell you. Everything's been...rather panicked. John is in hospital. In a medically induced coma. - MH

You: You have to be kidding me, brother mine. SH

You: What happened while I was away? SH

Stranger: I wish I was. - MH John progressively became more and more depressed. Myself and Gregory tried to keep him afloat so to speak but he still found it difficult. Last night, John tried to take his own life. - MH

You: [long delay] This is so... out of character of him. SH

Stranger: The letter he left was addressed to no one but he writes as if speaking to you. You were far more important to John than I think you knew. - MH

You: What does the letter say? SH

Stranger: That he loves you, wishes he could have married you an grown old with you. That he cannot go on knowing he'll never see you again, and that he hopes there is an afterlife so he may join you. - MH

You: [delay] But I'm not in the bloody afterlife! SH

Stranger: To John you were, brother. He thought you dead, remember? - MH

You: Brother mine, is there any chance that he'll wake up? SH

You: Yes I do, I did it to keep him alive, for god's sake. SH

Stranger: The doctor's I have taking care of him are hopeful but not certain. He's in a coma to make sure no swelling on his brain leaves permanent damage. John had been prescribed sleeping pills and antidepressants, and last night he took two months worth in mere minutes. - MH I know you did, Sherlock, but we both underestimated the strain it would have on him. - MH

You: Oh God. I'm so sorry. SH

You: This is what he felt like. SH

Stranger: I think you should be here with him, Sherlock. I can arrange to have you brought into his private room. Gregory is with me and already knows the truth about you. - MH

You: Thank you, brother mine. If I have to say good bye I want to do it in person. SH

Stranger: Let us not think worst case scenario, brother. - MH

You: I'd be lost without my blogger, brother mine. SH

You: When can I come? SH

Stranger: I know, little one, I know. - MH As soon as you're able. Now? I'll have transport sent for you. - MH

You: Now is perfect. SH

Stranger: The doctors have scheduled some tests for two hours time, they hope to take him out of the coma and see if he'll wake up on his own. - MH

You: That's good. SH

You: This is so surreal. SH

Stranger: Mrs Hudson found him. She's shaken as you can imagine. Everyone is, myself included I'll admit. - MH

You: You? Shaken? That's a surprise, brother mine. SH

Stranger: Since you've been away, myself and Gregory have gotten...closer. He's softened me. Just as John has you. - MH

You: I know you two are shagging. SH

You: Oh God this feels like a nightmare and I can't wake up. SH

Stranger: Tactfully put. At the start it was purely physical. It's more now. He's even met Mummy. - MH If there's anything I can do to help, brother. - MH

You: You made progress, I'm glad. SH

You: Wake me up, brother mine, please. SH

Stranger: I wish I could, little one. I'm doing my best to see that John wakes up for you. - MH

You: If he doesn't wake up, brother mine, you have to promise me something. SH

Stranger: Which is? - MH

You: Wake me up from this nightmare. SH

Stranger: [Slight delay] He's going to be okay, brother mine. - MH

You: You have to promise. SH

You: Please, Mycroft. SH

Stranger: I promise, Sherlock. - MH

You: Thank you. SH

Stranger: You should prepare yourself for when you get here. John doesn't look how you remember him. - MH

You: What do you mean? SH

Stranger: It appears he took on some of your habits. Little sleep, no food for days. He has scars that myself and Gregory failed to notice until now. - MH

You: [slight delay] I need to see him. SH

Stranger: You'll be here soon, brother mine. - MH

You: I need to be by his side, brother mine. SH

You: I think I'm going to go insane. SH

Stranger: You will be, you can stay by his side until he wakes up. You still have a lot of explaining to do. Perhaps not in the less than subtle way you would have done via text. - MH

You: I'll explain everything. SH

You: Brother mine, I love him. SH

Stranger: I know you do, Sherlock. I could always see it. Now you know he loves you too. - MH

You: I wish I knew it sooner. SH

Stranger: We all wish things could be different sometimes, little one. John will wake up. - MH

You: Don't raise my hopes, brother mine, you are just scared to do what you have to do if he doesn't. SH

Stranger: I am, yes. But I also have great respect for John, and know that the world needs more like him, not less. That you need him. - MH

Stranger: (Brb)

You: [long delay] How is the situation? I'm trembling like a leaf. SH

Stranger: His body is functioning. They pumped his stomach and tried to counteract all the medication he used. - MH

You: That's good to hear. SH

Stranger: So far, his brain activity is normal, but they won't know more until they try and wake him up. - MH

You: Enough, I'm catching a cab. SH

Stranger: One should have just pulled up beside you. - MH

You: You are always the same, thank you brother mine. SH

You: I'll be there in 5 minutes. SH

Stranger: Good. Anthea is waiting outside the hospital for you. She'll escort you up. - MH

You: I see her. SH

You: (paragraphs?

Stranger: (Sure, would you mind starting?)

You: (No problem

You: Sherlock exits the cab, his legs are trembling and his eyes are red and puffy. He walks towards Anthea without saying a word, feeling his throat clenching.

Stranger: Anthea merely gave a nod to Sherlock and led him inside, knowing he wouldn't want the small talk right now. After a short lift ride, they arrived at the fourth floor and Mycroft stood outside one of the private rooms. Gregory was sat in one of the chairs against the wall outside the room, and he gave a tired little smile to Sherlock. "Brother," Mycroft said quietly, opening his arms for Sherlock.

You: Sherlock don't even notice Lestrade when he run toward his brother, hugging him for dear life. "Brother mine" He says with his raspy voice feeling his throat burning like he is about to cry again.

Stranger: Mycroft hugged Sherlock tightly, letting his brother cling to him. "It's been a long time, brother," he whispered, "oh Sherlock." Stroking Sherlock's curls gently, Mycroft pulled back enough to press a kiss to Sherlock's forehead. It was what he used to do when Sherlock would come to him as a child, crying after a nightmare. Right now, it was the best he could do.

You: Sherlock looks in his brother eyes, his eyes are already watering again. He clings onto his jacket letting out a sob. "I-I did this to him? I-I'm so sorry... so sorry, he felt like this and it's my fault... oh God... I'm so sorry"

Stranger: "Hush, little one," Mycroft said softly, gently brushing away the few tears the fell from his brother's eyes, "you couldn't have known. You couldn't have foreseen this happening, you did what you had to do at the time. John will understand. Perhaps not right away, but he will."

You: "I love him so much" Sherlock closes his eyes feeling his brother hand on his face. "So much..."

Stranger: "I know you do," Mycroft said and smiled sadly, "go on, go be by his side. A doctor should be in shortly to try and wake him up."

You: "My doctor is in need of a doctor..." Sherlock smiles sadly entering John's room and he looks at him in shock. John is so thin and he seems so tired and he is even paler that Sherlock.

Stranger: John was almost skinnier than Sherlock. His face was pale and his cheeks and chin were covered with stubble from where he hadn't bothered shaving. Dark circles sat under his closed eyes, made more noticeable thanks to his pale skin. His arms were on top of the blankets and scars littered his wrists. John was almost unrecognisable as his former self.

You: Sherlock takes a deep breath, his hands are shaking and he sits on the chair next to the bed without moving his gaze from John. "Please... I heard you when you asked for one more miracle, now you have to listen to me... please John, one more miracle"

Stranger: John remained still, the steady beep of his heart monitor the only sound in the room once Sherlock finished speaking. So many wires were hooked up to him, monitoring his body and his mind. A few minutes went by before there was a knock at the door and a middle aged woman with bright ginger hair walked in. "Hi, I'm Doctor Potts," she said with a sympathetic smile. Moving over to the bed, she checked over some of the machines. "If it's alright with you, we're going to take John out of the coma and see if he'll respond."

You: "sure, everything to see his eyes open again... to hear his voice, please" Sherlock take John's hand, his skin it's still a little rough, but it feels so bony and weak in his own.

Stranger: Doctor Potts nodded and gave Sherlock another little smile. Turning off one of the drips going into John, the woman then injected John with something to help wake him up. "All we can do is wait now. We're still closely monitoring him, but so far...his body is functioning normally and his brain activity looks normal for REM sleep. Those are all really good signs."

You: "I'm glad to hear this" Sherlock tries to smile and he takes John's hand to his lips to kiss its back. "I will wait, love, but you have to wake up" He whispers looking at the man with his eyes full of love and hope.

Stranger: Doctor Potts left and voices could be heard outside the room as she explained the same thing to Mycroft and Greg. It was another half an hour before anything of note happened. But finally, John's fingers twitched, and his eyelids fluttered as he began to come into consciousness.

You: At those light movements Sherlock feels his heart beat speeding up and his entire body stiffening. "Oh my God..." He gets up without letting go John's hand unsure on what to do "Should I call a nurse? Or Mycroft? Oh my god it's happening"

Stranger: John grumbled slightly, his throat feeling like sandpaper. Everything hurt, ached, like he'd been asleep for hundreds of years. Slowly, his eyes opened, and he squinted instantly thanks to the bright lights in his hospital room. But he could have sworn he heard... "Sh'lock...?" His voice was faint, just above a whisper. "Sherlock...?"

You: Sherlock turns towards him when he hear his voice, tears in his eyes and he nods. "It's me John, it's really me" He return on his seat by John's side and he takes the glass of water from the nightstand next to the bed. "You have to drink, you've been sleeping for a while"

Stranger: John let himself be helped to drink, which does make him feel a little better at least. Closing his eyes again, he let out a sigh before turning his head slightly. "Sherlock...? So I'm...I did it?"

You: "No, no, you are alive, so am I" Sherlock stokes gently John's hair biting his bottom lip. "I'm so happy you are alive, so happy..." He lower himself to kiss John's forehead before staying with his lips against his forehead. "I love you so much..." whispers so quietly that he isn't even sure he said it.

Stranger: "Alive..? But I don't...you're dead, I...I buried you, I saw you," John said, clearly confused. Keeping his eyes closed when he felt Sherlock kissing his forehead, John squeezed the man's hand slightly. Had Sherlock just said...? No, it couldn't be. "This must be a dream...or something..."

You: "I'll explain it later, I promise..." he brushes his lips against his forehead before pulling away from him to look into his eyes, completely incapable to stop smiling. "It's not a dream, it's not, I-I love you I really do"

Stranger: "Where are we...?" John asked, opening his eyes and finally looking up at Sherlock. God, he was just how he remembered, so beautiful. John didn't care what this was right now, a dream, an afterlife, a drug induced hallucination, whatever. Sherlock was here and saying he loved him.

You: "In the hospital... you tried to take your own life" Sherlock bites his bottom lip still holding John's. "I was so scared, angry and sad... I'm so sorry you felt that way, I'm so incredibly sorry"

Stranger: Tried to? So he wasn't dead? How was Sherlock here? This didn't make sense. "I remember...the pills," John said slowly, "I just...without you, Sherlock, I couldn't...you were everything. I was useless again, like I was when I got back from Afghanistan. Without you...I had no purpose."

You: "You are never going to feel like that again, I promise" Sherlock looks at him with his eyes full of love and he smiles slightly. "I still can't believe that you are awake, I can't believe I'm here with you either"

Stranger: "Neither can I. You were dead, Sherlock, I don't...I don't understand," John said quietly. He felt drained, physically and mentally and he just wanted to sleep again. But if he did, Sherlock might disappear again.

You: Sherlock shakes his head. "No, I wasn't, I had to fake or you were going to die along with Lestrade and mrs Hudson, I didn't have a choice" He explain, hoping that this wouldn't freak John out.

Stranger: John frowned. "Fake it...?" John was quiet for awhile, his eyes no longer meeting Sherlock's. "So you never really died, you...it was all just...a lie. You let me think you were dead, made me watch..."

You: At his reaction, Sherlock holds his hand a little tighter shaking his head. "I couldn't do otherwise, please believe me, now I know what you felt and I'm so bloody sorry"

Stranger: John remained silent, still not looking at Sherlock. "Why couldn't you have told me...? Found some way to tell me...?" he whispered.

You: "I couldn't let you know, I had to finish the work or someone from Moriarty's web would've killed you, I did it to keep you alive. I need you to be alive." Sherlock feels incredibly anxious and his eyes starts watering and a sobs escapes his lips. "Please, believe me"

Stranger: "I don't know what to believe..." John whispered. His hand hadn't left Sherlock's however, and their fingers were linked tightly together. "I...I can't deal with this right now," he said after awhile, "let's just...I don't care how you're here right now, I'm just so happy you are here."

You: Sherlock takes a deep breath to calm down. "I now about you letter, Mycroft told me it was heartbreaking..." He whispers lowering his gaze to the ground. "It said that you love me and that you wished you could have married me and grow old with me and... and that you wanted to join me in the afterlife..."

Stranger: John looked away again. "No one was supposed to read that, I...I don't even know why I wrote it. It was meant for you but...I didn't think you'd ever be able to read it," he said quietly, "it was all true though. I...I even had a ring. Nothing planned but, I don't know, it all seems stupid now."

You: "Why?" Sherlock feels his lungs deflating completely at that word. Stupid? Now that he is here he changed his mind?

Stranger: "Because you died, Sherlock," John said, "you died and left me and...and everything I knew just went away. I still have the ring in the flat somewhere, don't know where, I didn't like looking at it once you'd gone. I never thought I'd ever get to use it."

You: "I... I would love to wear that ring" Sherlock whispers looking at the ground. "But I guess you've changed your mind, I mean, I faked my death I wouldn't thrust myself either, I understand..."

Stranger: "I haven't stopped loving you, Sherlock," John told him, "I could never do that. Ever. As much as it hurt, I couldn't stop that."

You: "really?" Sherlock is now looking at him biting nervously at his bottom lip. He never wanted to kiss someone as much as he want to kiss John right now.

Stranger: "Really," John said and looked back at Sherlock with a weak little smile. "I just...we need to take this slow. For now," he added, squeezing Sherlock's hand before he gave a little chuckle, "you must think I'm so stupid. After every lecture I gave you about eating and sleeping and looking after yourself...now look at me."

You: "You are still the more beautiful man I've ever seen" Sherlock smiles shyly blushing a bit "But I like my doctor shaved clean"

Stranger: John paused before he slowly lifted his free hand to touch his own cheek. "Oh, right," he said and smiled, "I...I can fix that once we get home."

You: Sherlock giggles moving his hand over John's "You are still stunning, idiot" he takes a deep breath before lowering himself over John to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Stranger: John let Sherlock kiss the corner of his mouth and gave a little smile. "I...I know this is going to sound stupid, but if I move over a bit, will you get into bed with me? I...I'm so tired, but I'm scared this is a dream..."

You: Sherlock's checks become even redder before he nods. "S-sure, if you fall asleep is alright, you need to rest"

Stranger: John slowly managed to move over in the bed, his limbs feeling so weak and sore.

You: Sherlock climbs into the bed after he took off his shoes. He lays next to John feeling his body stiffening for the excitement. He move a bit to lay onto his side to look at him. "Hi..."

Stranger: John smiled and gently curled into Sherlock's body, careful of all the wires still coming out of him. He rest his head in the crook of Sherlock's neck. "This is better," he murmured, "sorry if my beard itches you."

You: "it's alright" Sherlock smiles wrapping his arms around John's body stroking his back. "It's perfect..."

Stranger: John sighed tiredly and closed his eyes, his body still weak. It took less than a minute before he fell asleep. Mycroft entered the room shortly afterwards, smiling fondly at his brother.

You: Sherlock turns his head to look at his brother. "Oh, brother mine, be quiet, John just fell asleep" He whispers smiling and he blushes a bit for the situation.

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled quietly and moved to the bed, gently stroking Sherlock's curls back. "John has to stay here for another day but then I can get him discharged, so you can take him home. There's...a long road ahead of you both."

You: "I'm not leaving until he can come with me, then" Sherlock relaxes at his brother touch looking at him with joyful eyes. "He said that he loves me"

Stranger: "I understand, I'll have fresh clothes brought over for both of you," Mycroft said before he smiled fondly, "I'm glad to hear that, little one."

You: Sherlock stokes gently John's hair looking at his relaxed and peaceful face. "He even said he bought a ring for me, brother mine, I've never been so happy"

Stranger: "Don't get ahead of yourself, Sherlock. John is still weak, still needs to recover. And you both will still need to work through your 'death'," Mycroft said.

You: "I know, I know, but I can't help but feel all fuzzy and funny inside me, like that butterfly thing that everyone talks about" Sherlock stokes John's face lightly feeling his stubble with his fingertips. "It's less scary now that I know he will wake up"

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and squeezed Sherlock's shoulder. "Gregory and I are going home now, the doctors know to let you stay with John," he said, "if you need me for anything, just call, alright?"

You: Sherlock lift his gaze to look at his brother with a big smile before he nods. "Okay, Thank you so much, brother mine" he sighs biting his bottom lip looking away for a moment. " I don't tell this to you since I was little but, I love you Myc"

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled and kissed Sherlock's forehead. "I love you too, little one," he murmured. Leaving, Mycroft quietly shut the door behind him. John slept for a good seven hours before he finally awoke. "Sherlock...?"

You: "mh?" Sherlock wakes up slowly, he's been asleep for a couple hours. "Yes John?"

Stranger: "Oh...nothing, just...checking," John said quietly, smiling as he pressed a little kiss to Sherlock's neck.

You: Sherlock sighs at that kiss before pulling back to look at him in his eyes taking John's face between his hands. "I'm real, this is real, okay?"

Stranger: John nodded slightly. "That's going to take me awhile to get used to," he admitted, "it was nice waking up beside you though, maybe not in a hospital bed but still."

You: Sherlock blushes a little before he kisses John's forehead. "It was nice for me too, I never slept so well, thank you"

Stranger: "Me neither." John slowly pulled back. "I need to sit up, everything feels stiff...and I'm kinda hungry."

You: "easy, easy, soldier, let me help you, then we'll call a nurse" Sherlock gets up and he helps John to sit up settling a pillow behind his back before he calls a nurse.

Stranger: John smiled and thanked Sherlock, resting back against the pillow with a sigh. He looked even skinnier when sitting up. A nurse came in and smiled, reading a little menu for John to choose from. With the food order, she left with the promise to be right back.

You: Sherlock sits on the chair next to the bed looking at John's body. "You are so thin... but don't get me wrong, you still look hot, I mean... no, I mean exactly that, I'll shut up, I'm embarrassing myself" his cheeks become redder while he talks.

Stranger: John started off frowning but soon he was chuckling. "I...yes, well, once we get home we can both work on that, yeah? It can be you nagging me to eat for a change," he said, reaching for Sherlock's hand.

You: Sherlock takes John's hand smiling shyly. "Sure" Oh god, he wants to kiss him so bad, Sherlock, you agreed to go slow, you have to calm down.

Stranger: "I love you," John said after a moment, "I know this is all messed up right now but I want you to know that I do love you."

You: "I love you too" Sherlock hold John's hand a little more thigh licking his lips. "I love you so much"

Stranger: "Once we get home, we can talk about everything, once I'm feeling a little better because...I need to understand everything."

You: "Yes, yes, sure... I know it's a bit confusing" Sherlock nods before looking across the room agitated.

Stranger: "I'm not angry...well, I don't know. I'm just confused, and hurt, and tired. But I do love you, and I'm happy that I get to have you again, properly this time," John said, squeezing Sherlock's hand.

You: "I know, I understand, it's... it's not that" Sherlock whispers without looking at him too embarrassed for what he wants to ask.

Stranger: "Then what is it, love?" John asked with a little smile, linking his fingers with Sherlock's. "You can talk to me."

You: Sherlock bites his bottom lip looking at their hands. "I want to kiss you so bad, I know we said we have to take it slow but... I'll shut up"

Stranger: John chuckled. "You can kiss me, sweetheart, I don't mind, don't mind at all," he said.

You: "Really?" Sherlock lift his gaze to look at him and then at his lips.

Stranger: John nodded and licked his lips slightly. "Yeah, really. Come here, idiot, kiss me."

You: Sherlock gulps before he get closer to John brushing his nose against John's. He feels his hear beating so fast he thinks it might explode.

Stranger: John slowly raised his hand and cupped the back of Sherlock's head. Bringing the man in closer, John pressed his lips to Sherlock's gently.

You: Sherlock sighs onto John lips and he kisses him a bit unsure but full of need

Stranger has disconnected.