No.31 - Tumblr Posts

Whumptober Prompt #31- Embrace and alt.Prompt#14- Touch-Starved

I can’t believe it!  My first Whumptober is already over!  Thirty-one days already gone past, thirty-one prompts filled.  It feels like just yesterday I started writing!  Well, I hope you all had as much fun reading them as I did writing them.  Thank you all so much for your support this last month, I treasure all of your comments and notes.  You really made me feel special. And now onto the story because I know that’s what y’all are waiting for ;) I started with Lucifer and I’m ending with Lucifer.  (Takes place after Prompt #4 Human Shield technically you don’t need to read it but it’ll help)

...

Lux was alive that night, as it always was, but Lucifer barely paid attention to the music and dancing.  He was waiting for Miss Lopez, as she had requested to speak to him.  She had yet to go up to his penthouse, so he was waiting at the bar for her.  He thrummed with anxious energy, though he never would’ve admitted to it, because he could not for the life of him figure out what she wanted to talk to him about.

Ever since that debacle with Michael, Miss Lopez had stuck to him like glue.  She hovered around him, getting closer than her usual, always trying to be bubbly but he could tell she was hiding something.  She was hesitating over something but he could not figure out what.

“Miss Lopez, may I ask you what exactly you are doing?”  Lucifer had finally broken when she asked to show him a new piece of evidence and it was nothing new.  “Why are you hovering over me like a vulture with its prey?”

“What?  No, I’m not.”  Miss Lopez had drawled out, her tone indicative that she knew had been caught but didn’t want to face it.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Something is clearly different about how you treat me.”  Lucifer had insisted.  “You are on the precipice of a cliff, and I am getting tired of you hesitating to jump.  What is it?  Is it Michael?”

Miss Lopez sighed.  “Look, Lucifer-”

“You needn’t fear, Miss Lopez.”  Lucifer said.  “I will protect you should she return, though I doubt she will.  Michael does not like to be challenged, and she will not return when she knows you have no problems challenging her.  Even if it is just calling her out on her bullshit.  There is no need to hide behind me as if she were to jump out at any corner.  Besides, I would sense her presence before you.”

“I’m not afraid of Michael, Lucifer.”  Miss Lopez said.

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly.  “If you’re not afraid of her, then what are you afraid of?  Me?  I mean, I am the Devil but nothing has changed, I swear to you.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Lucifer.”  Miss Lopez said hurriedly.  “I’ve never been afraid of you.  I’ve been friends with the Angel of Death since I was eight, you don’t scare me.”

“Then what?”  Lucifer said.  “What are you so afraid of?  Because I’ve noticed, something’s changed since Michael.”

Unfortunately, at that moment, one of Miss Lopez’s machines beeped at her, drawing her attention elsewhere, likely back to the case.

“Lucifer, maybe now isn’t the best time for this conversation.” Miss Lopez said.  “My mass spectrometer just got a hit.  You’ll be at Lux tonight, right?”

“Of course.”  Lucifer said.

“Cool.  I’ll meet you at Lux at eight.  Sound good?”  Miss Lopez said, smiling in her way.

“I cannot wait.”  Lucifer had said, smiling back, though he hardly felt like it.  What conversation could she want to have that she couldn’t have in her lab?  It had seemed so strange and it set him on edge.

So here he was, eight sharp, waiting at the bar for Miss Lopez to arrive.  He saw her in her normal jeans and jacket, not in her usual club wear.  She saw him, and her smile lit up his world.  Miss Lopez’s constant optimism had always been infectious, even to him.

“Hey, Lucifer!”  Miss Lopez called, racing to him.

“Hello again, Miss Lopez.”  Lucifer said.

“Wow, I didn’t think an early Wednesday night would be this busy.”  Miss Lopez said, glancing around at the throngs of dancers.

“Lux is always busy, love.”  Lucifer said.  “Perhaps we should pop up to my penthouse.  It’s quieter up there.”

“Yeah.  Yeah!”  Miss Lopez said, her smile spreading.  “I’ve never been up there!  Always wanted to see it!”

“Ask and ye shall receive.”  Lucifer led her over to his private elevator and called it down to them.

“You have your own elevator?”  Miss Lopez shrieked.  “That’s so cool!  Do you have a doorman? How do you stop people from going up? Is there a list?  Am I on the list?”

The bell dinged and they entered.

“In order, Miss Lopez?  No, I do it myself, I hardly have a need to stop people from going up, there’s isn’t a list but if there was you’d be on it.  My bouncers know you, that’s what matters.”

They arrived at his penthouse.  Miss Lopez whistled as she entered.

“Damn, Lucifer!”  Miss Lopez’s eyes went wide with shock.  “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“I’m glad you can appreciate it.”  Lucifer said, walking to the bar.  “Drink?”

“Lucifer, you should know better.”  Miss Lopez smirked.  “Of course.  Whatcha got?”

“Anything your heart desires.”  Lucifer gestured to his full stock.

“You know me pretty well, Lucifer.”  Miss Lopez said.  “Surprise me.”

He nodded, and poured her a glass of fifty-year-old scotch.

“So, Miss Lopez, why did you ask to meet me tonight?”  Lucifer asked, as he handed her the glass.  “I’m afraid I cannot understand why you hover over me nor why you insist to draw me closer than needed.”

Miss Lopez sighed.  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Lucifer. I just- I thought- I…”

He frowned at her.  “Miss Lopez, I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

“IJUSTTHOUGHTYOUREALLYNEEDEDAHUG!”  Miss Lopez shouted, the dam clearly bursting.

He stared at her.  “What?”

“You need a hug!”  Miss Lopez shouted, startling him.  “Like really, really badly.”

“Miss Lopez?”  His voice sounded strangled, even to him.

“Meeting your sister, that was crazy!”  Miss Lopez kept going, apparently on a roll.  “I mean, she’s supposed to be the best of the angels!  And she’s the freaking worst!  I mean, four brothers wasn’t always great to grow up with but that must’ve been Heaven compared to growing up with her!  And you threw yourself on the line for us, knowing what she could do to you!  You protected us from the biggest threat to you, and you did it without hesitating!  And after that happened, after you kinda freaked when I hugged you, I realized why some of you is the way you are.  Growing up with a sister who hit you must’ve really freaked you out when it came to touching people.  I know Amenadiel isn’t the biggest touchy-feely guy so you must have grown-up so touch-starved.  Even Rae-Rae doesn’t really touch me and I’m, like, the biggest hugger ever!  And I haven’t been wanting to make you uncomfortable but you seriously need a hug!”

He just stared at her, completely stunned.  None of his human companions had ever told him he needed a hug of all things before.

Miss Lopez just groaned without words, clenching her jaw, and then threw her arms around Lucifer’s chest and arms.  He stood, still stunned, but after a moment, his skin started to crawl.

“Miss Lopez, while I appreciate that you are trying to show me affection, I am perfectly alright.”  He finally found his voice, the thrumming under his skin growing louder with each passing moment.  “I am in no need of a hug.”

He fought the urge to squirm, his skin was tickled with little pseudo-bugs, as if thousands of minuscule legs danced along his skin.  It felt awful, but he didn’t want to hurt Miss Lopez’s feelings.  She was trying to help in her own human way.

“How different biologically is this form from a humans?”  Miss Lopez asked, not letting go of him.

“I don’t know what you mean.”  He said, unable to fight the urge any longer.  The legs were now sharp, the crawling across his skin unbearable to him.  He felt like his skin was tearing itself apart.

“I mean, does this body you have react similarly to humans when introduced to stimuli?”  Miss Lopez clutched him harder to evade his writhing.

“I don’t know.”  Lucifer growled, unable to keep his voice down.  “Will you- Miss Lopez, please- I cannot- Will you release me?!?”

Miss Lopez finally released him at his nigh scream.  He scrambled back away from her.

“Lucifer?”  She asked, sounding almost afraid.

He struggled to get his breathing under control, his skin screaming out at him.

“What did you do to me?”  He asked.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Lucifer, it was just a hug.”  She said, starting to ramble.

“Must’ve been more.”  He snapped, unable to figure out what his nerves were screaming at him for.  She had let go.  “Why do I… feel this way?”

“What?”  She asked.

“Why do I still feel it?!?”  He shouted, startling her.  “My every nerve is on fire, I cannot stand it!  My skin is trying to…. something!  What did you do?”

Miss Lopez steeled her features.  “You’re touch-starved.”

“Touch- what?”

“Touch-starved.”  She repeated.  “Humans need touch to survive, we can fall into deep depressions, or even get aggressive to others because of it.  I was sure I recognized the symptoms when I first met you, and when I found out you were an angel, I dismissed it as a human flaw.  But after seeing Michael, and seeing how you view touch, you’re definitely touch-starved.  Another way to say it is skin hunger.  I think that’s what you’re feeling.”

“My skin is hungry?”  He asked, appalled.  “I’m dying!”

“No, no, Lucifer,” She held up a hand.  Part of him lurched for it and another part pulled him back.  “It’s just the word for it.  Because your nerves, your C-tactile afferents, haven’t been getting the gentle contact they need to function, your skin is unable to process it the way it’s supposed to.  You haven’t been touched enough.”

“I get more than my fair share, Miss Lopez.”  He snapped.  “I mean, just last night, I met this wonderful man who could-”

“Not sexual touch.”  She insisted.  “Gentle touch, sensual but not sexual.  I mean, when’s the last time you get a proper hug that wasn’t from me?  Or cuddled with someone instead of just sex?”

Lucifer’s mouth opened but no sound came out.  He tried a few times, searching his memory, but within Miss Lopez’s parameters, nothing came.

“That’s why you’re freaking.”  She very carefully came closer.  “You’re so used to painful touch your body has no idea how to process good touch.  Trust me, sex isn’t enough to satisfy your body’s needs.”

She gently touched his arm and rubbed up and down.  His skin screamed again, but the smooth, rhythmic motions made any protests he could make die in his throat.

“Miss Lopez, are you propositioning me?”  He asked, unsure of himself.

“No.”  She shook her head sadly.  “All I want to do tonight is watch Netflix with you on your expensive looking couch, drink your definitely expensive liquor, and cuddle you until morning comes.  That’s all.”

“My club, the case, I don’t- I can’t.”  He found himself being led to the couch, his heart not in his words.

“Lux will survive without you for one night.”  Miss Lopez said soothingly.  “Tell you what.  Why don’t you take off your jacket and nice suit, go sit on the couch, and pick something you wanna watch?  I can take it from there.”

He stared at her, the five-four human who had taken on the Soldier of God herself.  He decided to do as she said.  If she could offer him respite to this… hunger, as she called it, he would take it.  He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way, so he had to defer to her judgement.  So he started to remove his clothing.

“You want food or do you just want a drink?”  Miss Lopez called.

“Whatever you want.”  He answered on instinct.

“Food it is.”  She said.  “My treat.”

He barely heard her, his heart was beating hard against his chest.  He now was only in his underwear, and for the first time in his life, he felt rather exposed.  Maybe this was why Chloe hated it when he went without clothing.  When she returned, he found her only in a tank top and some booty shorts.  He frowned.

“Skin to skin contact.”  She said simply, settling in beside him.

She wrapped herself around him, where he was the little spoon for once, with his head tucked into the nape of her neck, his chest enshrined in her arms, her legs wrapped around his, but yet, he could tell that if he wanted to escape her hold, he would be able to.  But he found himself unable to force himself to.  He was… comfortable, for lack of a better word.

“What do you want to watch?”  She murmured, her lips almost brushing his ear, sending an unfamiliar feeling across his body.

“Bones?”  He offered.

Miss Lopez snorted.  “You know that show isn’t scientifically accurate in the least.”

“It’s fun.”  He pouted.  “Reminds me of the Detective and myself.”

“Alright, alright, since this is your night.”  She laughed into his hair.

“Thank you, Miss Lopez.”  He mumbled, switching on the television.

“We’re literally cuddling on the couch right now with takeout on it’s way.  We’re basically Netflix and chilling.”  She said.  “Least you can do is call me Ella.”

“Ella, then.”  He tested the name out.  It felt odd but safe, in a strange way.

Something very strange was definitely happening to him.  His skin no longer felt pain at her touch, especially since she had given him a way out if need be.  In fact, he felt a craving he had not felt since a time before he could remember.  He wondered if this was a side effect of the Detective making him mortal, or spending too much time on Earth.  But the longer he spent in Ella’s embrace, the less he cared.  Cuddling with her made him feel safe, sated, satisfied in a way he’d never felt before.  He realized that no matter what else happened tonight, he didn’t want Ella moving.  She was too close, too strong, too necessary for his happiness tonight.  Without a word, he nuzzled deeper into her neck, pleasure seeping into every fiber of his being.  He heard her chuckle breathlessly, and she started to lightly scratch at his scalp with her fingernails.  It sent shiver after shiver down his spine.  His brothers and sisters were wrong, the Silver City wasn’t Heaven.  Simply sitting with Ella with her fingers in his hair was Heaven.

They remained in silence until the food arrived.  Ella made to get up grab her wallet but Lucifer, having already grabbed his before he sat down, shoved money in her hands.  He wasn’t sure how much but he was sure it would cover the cost.

“I said I got this one.”  Ella protested.

“Ella, I believe you are doing me the favor here.”  He murmured.  “I’ll pay.  And I absolutely do not want you to move whatsoever and I don’t care what money it takes to keep you right here.”

As he was buried deep in her embrace, he missed the smile that had overtaken her face.  His usual delivery boy for Chinese takeout, doing favors for all of his favorite restaurants and always tipping well had its perks, didn’t say anything about the odd arrangement and simply placed the food on the coffee table.  Ella gave him the money, and the delivery boy went back down the elevator.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I just asked for your usual.”  Ella whispered.

Lucifer only hummed in response to her.  He didn’t want food, he wanted this, never-ending.  Just him and his human, cuddled up close, without a care in the world.

“Well, when you want it, it’s here.”  She chuckled.  He wasn’t sure what she found amusing but he was glad she did.  She deserved to laugh, to be as happy as he was in this moment.

He paid less and less attention to “Bones”, his mind lazily drifting as the familiar episodes washed over him.  He had started with season one, in case Ella hadn’t seen any of the episodes, so she wouldn’t be lost.  Contentment filled his body and his mind, ever so slightly pushing him over the edge of sleep.  By the time a gentle voice was singing of a Winter Wonderland, his eyes were closed, his body lax, and his arms wrapped tight around Ella.  But he did not want to sleep.  Sleep meant he would lose Ella, he would wake up and she’d be gone, off solving crimes and examining evidence, and the world would begin to turn again.

“Go to sleep, Lucifer.”  Ella whispered in his ear, as if somehow reading his thoughts.  “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

That seemed to be the final piece that pushed him over the edge.  He fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of soft laughter and light touches.  He’d never slept better.

Day 12, 20, 26, 31- Friends are the Best Obvious Solution

Prompts- Insomnia, Found Family, "Sometimes I Get so tired, I Don't Know Myself", and "I thought I was getting better"

Katsuki hasn't been able to properly sleep for a while, having nightmares that leave him unable to get back to sleep until he has to get up again. The squad notices something's wrong, and decide that they're gonna help no matter what Katsuki says.

ao3 link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/51255391

Katsuki couldn’t count the hours of sleep he’d lost in the past couple of weeks. He’d tried everything to help him sleep, all sorts of tea, white noise, melatonin, and even yoga and meditation. Nothing worked. Every day was becoming the same, go to bed at 8:30 like normal, fall asleep, have terrible nightmares, wake up terrified and shaking just past midnight, stare at the ceiling trying desperately to fall back asleep, fail, and then get up at five when his alarm goes off. He’d had this routine since getting to the dorms, it was very similar to his old routine except now he could train and shower instead of showering before getting on the train. He very much liked it, even with his friends calling him an old man for going to bed so early. He never cared about what they said anyways, they had shitty routines of their own, and he just laughed at them when they complained about being tired after going to bed at 2am. His routine was far superior, and let him get actual rest to be prepared for the next day.

Except now, he wasn’t getting any rest at all. He didn’t understand. The nightmares that had started after the sludge villain incident had died down, resurfacing with the USJ and Kamino, but they had died down again. Nothing violently traumatic had happened again, so the fact that they had come back with a vengeance made no sense. It had been months, he shouldn’t be having these nightmares! He’d moved on, everything was different now, and he should be fine!

But he wasn’t fine. Katsuki didn’t do well without sleep. Simple things that he’d never put any thought into, like taking notes or staying awake in class, had suddenly become very daunting tasks that he struggled with every day. It was even getting a little hard to read his own handwriting, though it was usually crisp and clear. At this point, it was only his pride that kept him from going to Recovery Girl or his family’s doctor for some sleeping medication. He was fucking Bakugou Katsuki, and he didn’t need fucking medication to do things he’s always done.

Though, his pride took a heavy blow in favor of the meds when he got his last math quiz back. Katsuki excelled in school, in all subjects, and it was rare that he’d get anything below a ninety-eight percent.

This one was a ninety . Shit.

“Hey, I did way better this time!” Kirishima said happily, shoving his seventy-eight in Katsui’s face. Through the fog of sleep deprivation, he was at least proud of his friend. Especially since he’d worked hard to get all that damn information into Kirishima’s head.

“Finally.” Katsuki muttered. “Bout time you started retaining the shit I teach you.”

Kirishima gave him an abashed but still ridiculously bright smile. “You know, I may learn better without you whacking me on the head all the time. What did you get?”

“Fuck off, that’s my business.” Katsuki said, immediately trying to shove it into his backpack. However, his behavior must have set off alarm bells in Kirishima’s mind, so his stupid fucking best friend tried looking even harder than his casual glace of before.

“Ninety?!?” “Shut up!” Katsuki hissed, his cheeks heating up without his consent.

“Dude I’ve never seen you get a score so low.” Kirishima’s voice was irritatingly worried, and Katsuki hated it. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, keep your nose out of my fucking business.”

“ Something’s wrong.” Kirishima pressed. “You’ve been off lately, like way off. I just thought maybe you were studying really hard but something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Katsuki insisted.

“Come on, I’m your best friend, you can tell me.” Kirishima said, his eyes gratingly sincere.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Katsuki growled, and thankfully, class was over for the day now, and they could go home. Katsuki just quickly grabbed his stuff, and left, ignoring Kirishima’s urges to talk.

Thank fuck it was friday. Now it was time to stare at the ceiling for long past five am. At least he could still stay in bed however long he wanted to.

Katsuki just went straight to his dorm room, again ignoring all of Kirishima’s attempts to talk to him, and locked his door behind him. His bag thudded heavily to the floor, and he flopped down onto his bed, cradling his head in his hands. Gods, what he wouldn’t do to just sleep. 

His bed was comfortable, his room was the perfect temperature, he’d changed into comfortable sweats and an oversized t-shirt, and he didn’t have school tomorrow so he could sleep in as long as he wanted, and still he couldn’t sleep. Closing his eyes just left him in the dark, and trying to do stupid breathing exercises to calm his mind did nothing. Sleep eluded him like common sense eluded Deku, and Katsuki just lay in bed, wishing with all his might that he could sleep and not getting it.

A knock startled him out of his desperate attempts for sleep, and he just sighed. Impatiently, the knock sounded again.

“Kaaaccchhaann.” Kaminari whined from the other side of the door.  “We know you’re in there.”

“No shit I’m in here, it’s my fucking room!” He shouted back.

“Come on, bro, open the door!” Kirishima was there too apparently. “We wanna hang out.”

“Yeah! It’s friday!” Aaaaand there was Sero. Dammit, he hated when all of his friends ganged up on him. It was always much harder to resist when all of his idiots were yapping at him. “Time for a smash brothers tournament!”

“We’re not gonna leave you alone until you come with us.” Ashido. Great, now the whole squad was outside his door. “So you might as well just give in and come out.”

He sighed again, loudly and dramatically. Fucking hell, his friends were annoying. But playing video games was mindless, and he did at least enjoy it. Maybe it would exhaust him enough to finally let him sleep.

“Fine.” He sighed, and the squad cheered. “But I’m player one, and no one complains about it.”

“Deal!” was chirped and Katsuki reluctantly got out of bed.

Apparently tonight was in Kirishima’s room, so at least he didn’t have to go far. They often cycled through the squad for video game tournaments and movie nights (except his. No one went into his room but him). But this time it was Kirishima’s turn to host, and so they all shuffled into the horrible brightness of his best friend’s room, and all spread out on the only available room to sit, the bed. Katsuki wasn’t sure how, as he didn’t like people coming into his personal space, but somehow, he ended up in the middle of Kirishima’s bed with Kirishima on his right side and Ashido on his left. Kaminari and Sero were sitting on the floor, leaning against his legs. This felt very intentional, but his friends weren’t acting suspicious, and since none of them could act well, he let it go. Maybe he was overthinking it?

He was handed the player one controller, and the others were passed around. The game was familiar enough to be relaxing, yet high speed enough to take his mind off his problems a little bit. He got comfortable and barely noticed it, sagging where he was sitting, body growing lax and complacent with a desperate need to rest. Everything started to fade into the background, the colors began to blur on the TV. His hands pushed the controller buttons automatically, on pure motor memory, but as his surroundings turned to white noise, he forgot that he was actually competing with anyone. His hands slowed as his mind sank into the comfort of where he was, the people around him. His friends’ animated chattering turned to a quiet buzz in his ears, sharp but familiar. He was warm on all sides, and Kirishima’s duvet was surprisingly soft.

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, yanking him out of his reverie, and the controller was being pulled out of his hands. He was confused until he managed to refocus his vision and see Ashido looking at him with big, worried eyes.

“Okay, Kirishima was right, something’s wrong.” She said.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Katsuki insisted. “Let’s just finish playing.”

“Dude, the game’s over.” Sero said, staring at him with the same worry in Ashido’s eyes.

His eyes flicked to the screen, and it had returned to the selection of characters for the next round. Shit. He hadn’t even noticed. His eyes came back to his friends, and everyone was staring at him. Even Kaminari was giving him an uncertain look.

“Come on, Bakugou, talk to us.” Kirishima said, and the walls Katsuki put up were becoming too exhausting to keep up. The sincerity even he couldn’t mistake for pity was too strong, the room too comfortable for him to be able to resist. He was just so tired. “We’re your friends. You can tell us anything.”

“I’m fine.” Katsuki hissed, his last desperate attempt to get them to back off before his walls fully crumbled. How had he lost so much ground so quickly? He was normally so much stronger than this. But dammit, he was exhausted and keeping up this act just added to his exhaustion.

“But you’re not.” Kirishima said. “You’ve been way off in training, you haven’t been getting your normal scores, and you just zoned out for like ten minutes without even realizing it. That’s not ‘fine’, dude. It’s just not.”

No matter where he looked, he couldn’t escape this sincerity, and he was trapped, with Sero leaning up against his leg so he couldn’t just storm out. Fuck.

“Icantsleep.” Katsuki whispered, his voice barely audible.

“What?” Chorused from his friends.

“I can’t sleep.” Katsuki sighed heavily. “Everything’s fine, I’m just really fucking tired.”

“But… you’ve been going to bed every night super early like normal.” Kaminari said, surprised. “We’ve seen you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you stay up past nine on school nights.”

“I don’t.” Katsuki said. “I just… I don’t know. I get into bed, and I just can’t sleep. I mostly just lay there.”

His friends exchanged worried looks.

“How long has it been since you last got decent sleep?” Kirishima asked.

Katsuki just shrugged, since honestly at this point, he really didn’t know.

“Have you tried, like, melatonin or tea?” Ashido asked.

Katsuki nodded. “Yes, I’ve tried those, I’ve already tried all the fucking obvious methods. Meds, tea, all the different noises, I even tried fucking yoga . Nothing worked. I just can’t sleep.”

“So is it like a mental thing?” Kaminari asked. “I sometimes can’t sleep because my thoughts are going too fast.”

Katsuki just shook his head.

“Well then, do you know what it is?” Sero asked. “That’s keeping you up? Because it sounds like it’s not a physical thing, if those other things didn’t work, and you say it’s not a mental thing, so I feel like there’s a puzzle piece missing.”

Katsuki just shrugged, not wanting to admit the nightmares, but his cheeks turned light pink anyways. Dammit.

“Okay, come on, what are you not telling us?” Kirishima asked directly. “I know that face, Bakugou, that face means you’re hiding something.”

“It does not!” Katsuki shot back.

Kirishima just raised an eyebrow. “How long have we been friends? And next door neighbors?”

“I keep telling you fucks, we’re not friends, I just can’t get rid of you.” Katsuki said, curling into himself unconsciously.

“Since the USJ at least.” Kirishima said, answering his own question. “I know you, man. We know you.”

“And that face means you’re hiding something.” Ashido finished. “You always get the tiniest blush when you know something we don’t know.”

“I do not.” Katsuki grumbled.

Several versions of “yes, you do” were echoed from all sides.

Katsuki just slumped harder. Fuck his friends. How the fuck did they know him so well? He hadn’t even known them a year! And yet, they knew him better than anyone in his life, outside of his parents and maybe Deku.

“Fucking fine, I have nightmares, okay!” Katsuki shouted, the jagged remains of his internal walls becoming like porcupine quills, trying to stab his friends with his anger. “I don’t fucking know why, but I’ve been having them basically every single fucking night, and there’s no goddamn reason for them! Will you shits leave me alone now?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kirishima asked, placing a hand on his shoulder for a moment.

“What the fuck would I say?” Katsuki snapped. “So you could call me a fucking pussy who gets nightmares for no fucking reason?”

“We wouldn’t call you a pussy because you get nightmares, Bakugou.” Kirishima said. “I get nightmares too.”

“Yeah, we all do.” Sero said, with Kaminari and Ashido nodding along.

His confusion must have been written on his face because Kirishima continued. “Dude, I’ve gotten them ever since Kamino. And the Shie Hassaikai raid made them come back for a while too. I still get them every once in a while.”

“I got them after the USJ,” Kaminari said, “and mine came back for a while too, after that whole fiasco on I-Island.”

“And not to mention Nabu Island too.” Sero added.

“I still have nightmares about that woman.” Ashido shuddered, and Katsuki knew she was also talking about Nabu. “Sometimes I even have nightmares about failing out of school.”

“Oh gods, girl, same.” Kaminari said, leaning back on Katsuki’s leg to look directly up at Ashido. “I have that nightmare the night before every test.”

Katsuki unconsciously filed that information away for later, he’d come back to that when the next test came around, but mostly he was still confused. “But none of you ever said anything. You shits literally talk about every subject under the fucking sun and you’ve never mentioned that. I would’ve noticed.”

“I mean, I guess not, but like.” Kirishima shrugged. “That doesn’t mean we’d call you a pussy for having them. You’re too hard on yourself, bro. Nightmares happen.”

“Not to me.” Katsuki hissed. “I’m fine , there’s nothing wrong with me!”

“We’re not saying anything’s wrong with you, Bakugou.” Ashido said, placing her hand on his shoulder for a moment, like Kirishima did.

“Nothing has to be wrong with you for you to get nightmares.” Sero said. “Honestly, with all the shit you’ve been through, I’d be shocked if you didn’t get them.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine getting kid-uh, I mean battling villains the way you did and not getting nightmares.” Kaminari recovered quickly after almost fucking up, reminding Katsuki of what he did not like being reminded of . Kamino could go die for all he cared, and he hated any reminder of it with a passion.

“But we haven’t had any battles lately.” Katsuki snapped, his hatred for his own weakness coming out as a spat at his friends. “There’s no fucking reason for this.”

“I don’t think nightmares need a specific reason to happen, bro.” Sero shrugged. “You just get them. There doesn’t always need to be a reason.”

Katsuki huffed, unhappy with that answer.

“We can figure out the reason tomorrow.” Kirishima said, successfully putting a pin in the conversation. He was good at that, at getting Katsuki to come back to shit when he felt better. “Right now, I think we just need to focus on helping you sleep.”

“I don’t need anyone’s fucking help.” Katsuki growled.

“Uh-huh.” Kirishima was also good at calling him out on his bullshit. Dammit, when had his stupid best friend gotten so good at that? “Come on. Lay down. You’re staying with me tonight.”

“No.” Katsuki said, very confused at to what the fuck his friend was even planning. “That’s dumb.”

“Fine, I’ll just tackle you.” Kirishima stated seriously, and honestly, Katsuki believed him.

“Whatever.” He grumbled, pulling himself back a little so he could properly lay down on Kirishima’s bed. For someone who’s entire thing was hardening, Kirishima’s bedding was unexpectedly soft. “Now what, geniuses?”

Apparently ‘now’ was everyone climbing onto the bed with him, Ashido pressed against his abdomen and the wall, Kirishima on his other side, and Sero and Kaminari back on his legs. They weren’t on him enough for him to feel trapped, but enough for him to feel that they were there. It felt oddly comforting.

“Okay, now close your eyes.” Ashido said.

He just glared up at her.

“You have to close your eyes to sleep.” She rolled her eyes. “Unless you sleep with your eyes open. Wait, do you sleep with your eyes open?”

“No, I don’t sleep with my eyes open, that’s weird.”

“Okay, so close your eyes.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes at her, and he sighed unhappily, but he did as she said.

“Breathe in for four seconds, and then exhale for seven.” Sero said.

“Tried that.” Katsuki replied. “Didn’t work.”

“Do it anyway.” Sero said, and he could hear him rolling his eyes. His bastard friends had a lot of nerve to roll their eyes at him, considering what they were doing. “You need to relax, and stop fighting us. Otherwise, you’re never going to get to sleep.”

“I’m never going to sleep with all you fucks watching me either.” Katsuki mumbled.

“We’re not watching you,” Ashido said. “We’re helping you.”

“Same thing.” Katsuki muttered.

“Just do the fucking breathing exercises.” Sero snapped.

Overdramatically, he took a big breath in, and blew it out. Afterwards, he started counting to four and seven as he breathed, and his body did start to relax. His mind was still very much wide awake but at least his body wasn’t as taut as a rubber band anymore. It felt a little strange, as he hadn’t felt anything when he’d tried this on his own, but it was working so he didn’t question it.

A hand suddenly came to his hair, brushing through his spikes, scratching lightly. His eyes immediately snapped open, and he found the hand belonged to Ashido. 

“Fuck are you doing?” Katsuki asked, but he was taken aback a little by his own voice. He sounded like he was half-asleep, but he knew that was untrue. His mind was still very awake.

“Shush, and keep your eyes closed.” She lightly chastised him. Katsuki didn’t even notice that she hadn’t answered his question.

Instead of standing up and telling his friends this didn’t work either, his leaded eyes just slid shut. His mind sank back into the comfort from before, a quiet voice of anxiety and fear effectively silenced by the warmth and safety his friends emanated.

Distantly, he could feel hands pull at his feet, taking his shoes off for him, and he didn’t have the words to respond to them. The fingers in his hair became his only real focus, feeling the gentle strokes of Ashido’s hand as she lightly dragged her nails over his scalp. No one but his parents had ever attempted anything like this, but he found he didn’t really want her to stop. Her fingers seemed to turn his exhaustion into a soft brook across his body, seeking out tension and washing it away. After an amount of time he couldn’t distinguish, the only things he could feel anymore were his friends comforting weight against him, and Ashido’s fingers in his hair. There were soft noises around him, gentle but garbled. Katsuki only caught the words ‘sleep’ and ‘night’, and couldn’t decipher any of the rest.

In an instant, Katsuki’s mind had gone from being completely awake to hanging by a thread, and Katsuki wasn’t sure when that had happened. Sleep hit him like a freight train, the thread of his consciousness didn’t stand a chance, and he was asleep between one breath and another.

After being so used to waking up shaking and sweating, Katsuki didn’t notice he was actually awake at first. He woke up slowly, an easy rise to consciousness not tainted by fear and terror. He felt warm on all sides, with heavy pressure all over his body, and he was so comfortable that he could’ve slipped back into sleep without much issue. Even more surprising, he felt rested for the first time in what felt like weeks. This was one of the best sleeps of his life. He idly wondered what brought it on after those debilitating nightmares.

Oh yeah. His friends. He could hear their soft breathing, feel their bodies all over him. Ashido was still sandwiched between him and the wall with her legs across his waist, Kirishima had flopped almost onto him, and the idiot’s legs seemed to be hanging off the bed, Sero and Kaminari were all tangled up on his legs, using his thighs as pillows. Kaminari was drooling on him, of fucking course the idiot drooled, but he was so comfortable that he let it go (for now). It took a bit of work to extract his hand from the pile that was him and his friends, but he checked his phone that was still in his pocket. It was a little past 5. Wow, he’d actually slept through the whole night.

Even with all the sleep he'd gotten which made him feel sooooo much better, he was still exhausted. His sleep deficit had only increased the more this went on, and he had a lot to make up. So, since no one was awake, he just snuggled in deeper to his friends, pressing into all of them, and he let the safety of his friends (who were practically family to him at this point) take him right back to sleep. And he slept long after everyone else had woken up, though they all still stayed cuddled up to him, their presence keeping the nightmares away.

“What do you want from me?” Arthur demanded. “Have you come here for revenge?” “No, but that would have been a good second option,” the ghost said. “I’ll keep it in mind. In actuality, I’ve come to haunt you.” Arthur couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Haunt me? Isn’t that the same?” “No, not really.” “Yes, it is.” “No, it isn’t.” “I don’t have to stay awake to listen to this.”

Whumptober day 31 - Embrace

My final fill for @whumptober2019​! A very whumpy WinterIron ficlet that is also available on Ao3. Thank you all so much for following me this month, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it!!

----- ----- -----

He wasn’t going to last much longer.

Every single part of him was hurting. He had long since passed being exhausted. Some of his wounds had become infected, and he was pretty sure some of his bones had been broken and were healing wrong. Not to mention the fact that the cough he’d developed was worrying him. Ever since Afghanistan, his lungs had already been compromised, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’d gotten infected as well.

If the others didn’t find him soon, he was afraid it might end up being too late. And what was worse, they’d started to make him doubt.

Usually, people would kidnap him for ransom or to make him build them something. It was what he’d been used to since far too young, and he knew how to deal with either of those situations.

These people hadn’t, though. As far as he knew, there had been no demands - to Pepper, to Rhodey, to Bucky, or to the other Avengers. And they certainly hadn’t let him anywhere near anything he could use to get himself out. Instead, the only thing they seemed to want was to make him suffer as much as possible.

Oddly enough, the physical torture wasn’t even the worst. It hurt, and it might be what ended up killing him, but mentally, he could deal with it. But they’d kept him awake for days with lights, with noise, and despite being used to some sleep deprivation, this had quickly surpassed his ability to handle it. And then there was the mental torture - the curses, he was familiar with. Even the way they told him, over and over again, that everything was his fault, that he was a terrible person and that his weapons had killed thousands, that he would burn in hell for all eternity, was familiar.

It was the certainty with which they told him that no one was coming for him that threatened to break him, though. The way they yelled that no one cared about him, because how could they, and they would be glad to be rid of him. The way they laughed and told him he was pathetic, thinking people could actually love someone like him.

Somehow, it felt as though they’d dug up his deepest, darkest fears and threw them straight into his face. It was everything he’d ever worried about, all of the things he had thought but never said out loud.

He’d managed, so far, to pretend it didn’t bother him that much. Three days in, he’d gone silent, stoically gritting his teeth and mentally chanting ‘Stark men are made of iron’ over and over and over again. Outwardly, they might be able to see that he was suffering, but he could still pretend that they hadn’t broken him.

Maybe they hadn’t, yet. Maybe this was just bending, farther than he’d ever thought he could. As long as he didn’t let them see him break, maybe… Maybe he hadn’t, yet.

Through it all, he’d tried to remind himself that they’d come. He might be all of the bad things they said and more, but… They knew about that. Rhodey had known him since he’d been a teenager, had been there through so many highs and lows that he probably knew more about Tony than he knew about himself. Bucky had gotten to know things about him that he’d never told anyone else and still stuck with him, still told him he loved him. Pepper, the other Avengers...

They all knew him, good sides and bad, and they still cared. There was no way they’d faked that, no way they would pretend to like him just for his money or his tech.

(Except he’d thought Obie cared as well, hadn’t he?)

((But Rhodey and Pepper both would’ve been set for life if he’d ended up dying in Afghanistan. Yet they’d never stopped looking for him, never stopped setting up search missions to try to find him.))

Lack of sleep wasn’t helping when it came to trying to have faith. His mind oscillated wildly between the hope that the others cared, that they were looking for him, and the despair of knowing he wasn’t worth it and they shouldn’t come for him, wouldn’t come for him.

He coughed again, grimacing at the way it made agony course through him. There were a few trickles of blood as some of his wounds opened again due to the movement.

Gritting his teeth, Tony reminded himself to just hang on.

They were looking for him. They had to be. They were his friends, his family. They weren’t fake, not like Obie had been. He might not be worth it, might deserve to die right here, suffering until his last breath. But that wasn’t the kind of people they were. They were good, and honest. They were heroes. And he knew he was not a good person, but somehow they must have found something in him that was decent enough for him to deserve having them care about him.

So all he had to do was last.

 Stark men are made of iron. Hang on. They are coming.

He repeated it to himself over and over and over, ignoring the pain as they hit him, cut him, kicked him.

He repeated it to himself over and over and over, drowning out their voices as they yelled about how terrible he was, how pathetic, how worthless.

He repeated it to himself over and over and over, clutching to it desperately as they pushed him down into a tub of salt water that made him want to scream.

 Stark men are made of iron. Hang on. They are coming.

He was still holding onto it when the gunfire started, when there were yells and screams and roars. And he had to crush the little spark of hope, because if it wasn’t them, that might just end up breaking him.

Instead he held on, breathing as evenly as possible and listening carefully for hints of what was going on. And if, in his mind, a litany of please please please had started, well… No one else could hear that, or judge him for his weakness.

And then the door was slammed open, bouncing off the wall and off the hinges.

Bucky was dressed in full gear, one hand holding a gun and the other a knife. The look on his face was absolutely murderous, and even the black of his gear couldn’t hide the blood.

The moment his eyes met Tony’s, his entire face softened in a way that was so intimately familiar that Tony’s breath caught for a moment. “Tony…” Of course, then he looked at the rest of Tony, and his face looked like it could have been carved from stone. Tony knew him well enough to know that, right now, Bucky very badly wanted to go out there and make every single person that had hurt him suffer.

Rather than doing that, though, he stepped further into the room. “Found him,” he informed the others, voice flat and business-like. Tony couldn’t hear what the others were saying, but he could guess when Bucky’s next words were “alive, but injured. Badly.”

After informing the others, though, he once again focused fully on Tony. “Oh, doll…”

He wanted to speak up, wanted to say hello, or that he’d missed him, or that he’d be fine. But he didn’t want to risk it, not with his injuries and his lungs and the way that his throat felt like he’d swallowed knives. So instead he just attempted the best smile he could, feeling the way it sat unevenly on his face.

And then Bucky was there, and for the first time in what felt like ages, someone touched him without hurting him. The whimper he let out was completely involuntary, instantly triggering another coughing fit that made his eyes water with the pain of it.

Through all of it, Bucky held him, somehow managing to find the exact right balance between tight enough to make Tony feel secure without being so tight that it would hurt more or injure him further.

He didn’t have a lot of strength to move with, but with the bit he had left, he buried his face into Bucky’s neck, savoring the warmth, the feeling of utter and complete safety that Bucky always inspired in him. With Bucky holding him, nothing would hurt him anymore. And while he was still very aware of his injuries, they seemed somehow less painful now.

As he pressed a small, desperately grateful kiss into Bucky’s neck, he could feel the way those strong arms tightened just a little, the way Bucky curled around him protectively.

“I’ve got you, doll. We’re here, we’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

My last attempt to contribute to Whumptober this year. Somehow I made it on time! (at least in my time zone) Fandom: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Self-Harm, But it's not as detailed as my last two stories yay, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump, At least I hope it can be considered that, Legend (Linked Universe) Whump, Legend (Linked Universe) Angst, Angst, Legend (Linked Universe) Has a Bad Time, Legend (Linked Universe) Has Issues, Good Sibling Hyrule (Linked Universe), Supportive Hyrule (Linked Universe), Protective Hyrule (Linked Unvierse), Hurt/Comfort, Author is sleep deprived as always Series: Part 3 of The Nature of Dreams Summary:

Legend breaks a promise, and Hyrule teaches him even the strongest people are allowed to have weaknesses.

Whumptober day 31: Setbacks, "I thought that I was getting better"

Whumptober: Hurt & Comfort

It was well known amongst them that they were, in a sense, children of war. Born in blood and fire, from the very beginning they were destined to always be running, fighting, trying not to die in the worst situation. Nothing would ever save them unless they found a way to finish their battle for good, and only then would they be free of their burden by birth. Somebody would have to die for it. Be it on their side or the other, many would die for the required bloodshed.

Sure, it would mean that they would all have good stories to tell (if they didn’t have a premature death), but were all the awful things that had happened to them really worth it? Was taking on more responsibilities than more adults could fathom worth scars and nightmares that never seemed to end?

Could their lives ever even be good, after everything that happened to them?

…No. Never. The things of the past would always haunt them. Being stuck in a crashing, burning ship. Watching each other almost die in their arms a hundred times over, nearly dying themselves. Being hunted, running running running- because they knew that they’d be killed instantaneously if they stopped. Seeing the world fall apart, torn to pieces by something that they didn’t, nor would they ever, understand.

Leonardo remembered late night conversations, composed of hushed voices that just barely rose above whispers, as though they were afraid of something hearing them and using their weakness against them.

“Why are you awake?” Donatello had murmured to him one evening, when everybody else was asleep and they had been left alone.

“I was having a hard time sleeping. You?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about today, how close we all were to dying. Leo- Are we… Are we in a war? Really and truly, are we fighting in a war?”

He remembered how he had frozen, thinking only of how his younger brother couldn’t know, how it was so obvious, then realizing that the other was still in denial.

“Yes,” Leonardo had breathed after a long, hesitant moment.

His younger brother had looked down, and he could only imagine the distraught look on his face as he realized the full seriousness of their situation.

From there, too, the conversations had only grown longer, deeper, almost always ending in someone’s tears, their grief smothered by the never-ending vacuum of space.

Space, which had once intrigued him so, now left him with bile rising in the back of his throat and his heart dropping into his stomach. And, of all the things in the world, after all the awful things he had seen was-

%%%

“Put your little weapons on the ground, now!” Armaggon commanded them, holding the unconscious body of the “blue” turtle tightly. He smirked as they all followed suit, setting down various weapons to avoid further injury of their leader. Some crew they were. “Now, what's gonna happen, is I’m gonna take your ‘leader’ with me, off of this ship. From there, I’ll take him wherever I please. As long as you don’t interfere or chase me down, you can go anywhere you like. After all, I only really need him. The rest of you are, well. Optional.”

He could see the hesitance in their eyes, hanging like a clingy child that just wouldn’t let go. That was not an unfamiliar feeling. In fact, he saw it quite frequently. Usually when the prices for his… Wares, suddenly went up. (It was hard to catch the bounty, what could he say? He needed to pay for tools and maintenance somehow.)

“How about this? This is a dead or alive bounty. If you come after me, I’ll kill him. Got it? Dead. D-e-a-d. Donezo. It doesn’t really matter to me, anyway,” That sounded like a better offer. It seemed to be, too, since hesitance was suddenly replaced with fear.

As he backed up in an attempt to retreat to his ship, none of them moved any closer. Good. As far as he was concerned, none of them mattered besides for the pay, and if he ended up with some bloody shells, well. Who would care?

The ragtag crew left him alone even after he dumped the body onto his ship and left. Should he be concerned that the turtle still wasn’t awake?

…Nah.

Maybe when their “leader” woke up, he would have a little fun with him, just to get some revenge for all the trouble he caused. Maybe he’d do it to the rest, too, just to mess with their heads.

%%%

Leonardo was not unfamiliar with getting his air stolen straight from his lungs.

Well, not after the whole space thing happened. He was used to it now, and that was what mattered.

It didn’t make it any less terrifying. 

As it turned out, the bounty hunter who had captured him was quite the sadist. Something about a “long route” and “having some fun”.

God, it was hard to think when you couldn’t breathe.

Eventually, the door shut, and the first thing Leonardo did was take a gasp of air, trying to clear away the stars that danced along his vision. Slowly, the smothering feeling of his lungs collapsing in on themselves started to fade. When had that started? It… Probably wasn’t good that he didn’t know. All he knew was that his chest was heaving, and the room was practically frozen, and he was alive.

Maybe, at the moment, that was all that mattered.

He needed to just keep breathing.

%%%

Apparently, that was not the worst of what was going on. The long way actually meant: “Never going to the person who put a bounty on you, just going to torture you”. Which, at this point, was really just too achingly familiar, but still. It wasn’t fun, that was for sure.

As if the endless days and nights weren’t bad enough, the bounty hunter (who’s name still slipped Leonardo’s mind, somehow) decided to blackmail Leonardo’s ship.

Leonardo’s friends and family.

His brothers.

Oh God.

That was- So many things to unpack. The thought was selfish, but Leonardo was just happy that he didn’t have to see their faces whenever it happened.

(Not that it mattered. Half the time, he could hear their responses and imagine it well enough. The other half of the time he didn’t even need that.)

Slowly, he realized that maybe he was going insane. After all, this was (probably) worse than anything he had experienced on Earth. This was the endless vacuum of space, and in some places, was blacker than the woods near the farmhouse.

Armaggon would finish with him eventually, and then he would either be delivered live to the customer, or killed and have his empty shell dropped at somebody’s feet.

Fantastic.

%%%

As it turned out, apparently, Armaggon’s big plan was not, in fact, to ever deliver Leonardo to the customer. Instead, he was thrown into an escape pod and just.

Sent out into space.

…How long, exactly, could he survive without food or water?

Did it- Did it matter, at that point?

After all, there was pretty much no chance of him getting back to the rest. Only God knew where he was (if there even was one anymore. If there was, they certainly did not look kindly upon him), much less people who could help.

Maybe he didn’t deserve the help. He was just a burden to them, always needing help or going missing. 

Maybe. He should just stay out here.

Vaguely, Leonardo knew that he was screaming. He thanked the wrathful god watching that nobody could hear him.

It could have been hours that passed. Or maybe days. Certainly not weeks, before a light went through his little window that he had to look through at the great nothing. Moments later, he was on a ship. When had that happened? Instead of the frozen metal of the escape pod around him, there was an emergency blanket. Somebody was pushing something closer to him. It was unusual, and far too unfamiliar, but. Nice. It was nice.

%%%

-getting lost in the black. As it turned out, he really hated space now. Which, kind of sucked, since that was a popular theme in the shows that they watched.

Leonardo had considered running a few times, sure, but that would mean leaving the others alone and, if he didn’t take these hits for them, who would?

emptiness / setbacks / take it easy (I thought I was getting better)

Writhing on the cold hard floor of the bridge of the ship, Spike swallowed a scream of pain with considerable effort. He clenched his eyes shut, clenched his hands into fists, curled his body into a fetal position, and tried not to throw up. 

He hated this part of convalescence. The part where he pushed himself too far too fast and either hurt himself or wound up relapsing in some way. The setbacks that Jet always warned about. It was frustrating to prove the other man right when all he wanted to do was be back to normal. Back to physically fit. Able to lose himself in the meditative realm of Jeet Kune Do. The emptiness wasn't as omnipresent when he was able to slip into the calming mindset that the martial arts exercise offered him.

Panting, shivering, furious at the world and his body's limitations and the bleakness of his own mind, Spike nearly jumped out of his own skin when a hand clasped his shoulder to roll him over onto his back.

"Take it easy!" Jet ordered. "You torn it again, didn't you? Well, just hold the fuck still and let me stitch it back up."

Of course it was Jet. Faye had been giving him the silent treatment since he was brought back to the ship. Her determination to ignore or avoid him was doing him no favors. If anything it added to the maelstrom of troubled thoughts and ever-present tides of guilt that washed up and over him daily. Guilt over getting Jet shot. Guilt over leaving Faye while she was having a breakdown. Guilt over getting Shin killed. Guilt over Julia... Guilt over Vicious... Guilt over Annie... Annie! ...that one hurt the worst, actually. Jet and Faye were pissed but alive. Shin and Julia and Vicious were all deeply involved in the Syndicate of their own accord, he'd never recruited any of them - hell, he'd tried to get Julia out for all the good that had done in the long run. Annie, she was an arms dealer for the Red Dragons, sure, but that was supposed to be a form of protection. A role that kept her out of the line of fire. The fact that they'd turned on her - whether Vicious or the Van - solely based on her past association with him...

It made his gut churn. She was supposed to have immunity. She was never supposed to die.

His fault. It was all his fault.

"Hey! You with me?" Jet's voice again. Concern covered with anger.

"I thought I was getting better," Spike spoke mulishly earning an eye roll from Jet as he finished sewing up the torn stitches along Spike's hip.

"You would be if you just relaxed for a damn minute. You're not invincible, you know. That showdown might not have killed you but if you get this wound weeping while I'm not around... or if those bullet holes wind up infected after all..." Jet huffed. "Anyway, just rest. You used to do that all the time, it shouldn't be that hard. The couch has been waiting for you to come back to it."

Spike finally took his eyes off the ceiling to frown at the other man's attempt at humor.

"Jet. I need to take a piss. Wanna lower the gravity for me?"

Jet eyed him suspiciously. "You gonna sprawl out after that? If you're just trying to make it easier on yourself to work out..."

"No, dad, I already ripped myself open enough for one day. I just don't wanna struggle down the stairs. I'll lay down afterwards. I'll even let you bring me some fucking broth for dinner."

Grunting, Jet turned from him to attend to the counsel that governed gravity on the ship. Spike found he was almost curious enough about their location to inquire but decided at the last moment not to ask. He was on a liquid diet. He was grounded from the zip craft and grounded from bounties. It was pointless to wonder where they were, what the next target was... it would be weeks at least before he was allowed to help again.

Dammit. He was glad to be alive - wasn't he? Sometimes he wasn't sure if he was happy about it or not, truthfully. Outliving everyone he'd once known was rough. The one person who had been through a similar fate - not a bloody coup, but losing everyone they'd ever known in life - was acting like he was a ghost. Regrets faced off against guilt over which would torment him during the snatches of slumber he was able to achieve. He'd been refusing pain killers because he didn't want to accidentally fuck himself up worse by not noticing due to numbness.

Besides, pain pills did nothing to combat the emptiness.

The yawning pit that was the heart and soul of Spike Spiegel.

Too stubborn to die, too apathetic to truly live.

There had to be a breaking point eventually. Slogging through each day was misery.

He heard Jet clear his throat before the other man reached down to help haul him to his feet. It was much easier to rise up now that the gravity had been reduced.

"Spike."

"Yo."

"I'll patch you up every time you do this to yourself, you know that. But someday you're gonna have to realize you don't gotta keep punishing yourself for living."

"I'm not..." He trailed off with a scowl. Was that what he was doing? He deserved the suffering, he knew that much.

"Whatever you say, man. Just... it's good to have you back. It'll be better when you can pull your own weight again but... well, regardless, I'm glad you're here."

Jet's words gave him a strange feeling in his chest. They didn't often - ever - have heart-to-heart chats. They weren't vocal about their actual feelings. It was all too easy to assume that the others were upset with him for abandoning them, for putting them at risk, for being an invalid when they needed everyone pitching in to afford to eat. Spike wasn't sure how to handle what Jet had said. He looked the other man in the eye, nodded, and then gritted his teeth as he pushed off the floor to float through the bridge and head for the bathroom.