KEEP THE LIGHTS ON
Pairing: Russell Shaw x Reader
Summary: He picked up the phone. He ignored the shake in his hand as his thumb pressed a series of digits heâd long ago memorized, just in case he ever had to call you from a phone that wasnât his, on a line that couldnât be traced. This was one of those times.
AN: This can be a stand-alone one-shot, but it fits well in the Every Second Counts-verse â between Bubbly and Breaking Point. (Inspired by 3x22 but not set in that episode.)
Posted on Patreon: May 29, 2026
Word Count: 2.7K
Tags & Warning: Angst, blood, âlast words,â Colter sighting, hurt/comfort, tinge of spice and implied smut
You were really gonna kill him this time.
A grunt passed between his lips as he moved his hand back an inch, catching a gnarly glimpse of oozing blood and raw flesh under the soaked bandage square.
Yep. Smothered in his sleep, that was his bet. Or maybe a little Raid sprayed on his foodâthat would be creative. Because you knew he couldnât resist your cooking.
Russell groaned and tried to push himself off the wall, but his body wouldnât budge.
âFuck,â he muttered.
He was a sitting fucking duck here. Literally.
A labored breath escaped him, along with another rivulet seeping through his shirt. His free hand itched for the cell phone lying beside him on the cement. Backup was on the way, taking a bit long though.
Time was always the question and the challenge. The decisions in between were what he was usually good at, even in moments like these.
He picked up the phone. He ignored the shake in his hand as his thumb pressed a series of digits heâd long ago memorized, just in case he ever had to call you from a phone that wasnât his, on a line that couldnât be traced. This was one of those times.
The line rang so long, he was losing hope that youâd answer.
Until your voice finally greeted him, with a raspy clearing of your throat and sleep-laden confusion.
âHello?â
His lips raised toward a smile. âHey, sweetheart. Sorry I woke you.â
âRuss? HeyâŚwhatâs this number youâre calling me from? You okay?â you asked. He heard the shifting of fabric.
He could imagine you sitting up in bed, leaning on your elbow as the sheets slid down your body a little. He closed his eyes. He could pretend he was there with you, sliding in from behind and burying his face in the familiar hollow of your neck and shoulder. Your hair would tickle his forehead, but heâd get the flowery mix of your soap and body lotion stuck in his nose, rather than the copper tang of blood.
âYeah, everythingâs cool,â Russell said. He bit the inside of his lip as the gray ceiling momentarily turned charcoal in his vision. There was numbness in his fingertips. âJust had a minute, wanted to check up on you.â
âIâm good,â you said. âMiss you though.â
He was trying to keep his breathing shallow, but he needed a deeper one then.
âMiss you too, baby.â
âWhen will you be home?â
âSoon as I can,â he said, stifling another pained grunt as he shifted against the wall. âKeep the lights on for me.â
âYeah? Last time you said that, you were held up for three weeks," you said wryly. "Think I need to collab with Dory and invent a virtual lie detector."
âYou know what, maybe you should just tell me what youâre wearing. Give me some ideas on how to make it up to you when I get home,â he teased, though it ended on a shallow cough.
His gaze wandered the warehouse. It looked like it hadnât been in use for a while, but he could smell the remnants of sawdust and mildew in the air. The only light came from the slivers filtering in through the closed exit doors, and a small window for ventilation near the ceiling.
He didnât think heâd go out in a fucking backwoods middle of nowhere place like this, but it was as decent as any he could expect in this line of work. Good enough, if he got to talk to you first.
But you didnât laugh like he expected.
âBaby,â you said. Concern crept back in. âFor real, are you okay? You donât sound right.â
âYeah,â he said, clearing his throat. âJust a little tired. Waiting on someone to get here, so we can get this show on the damn road.â
Just then, he heard the sound of wide tires pulling to a stop outside the warehouse. Russell didnât relax just yet. That could've either been his backup, or his target's delayed reinforcements. He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder on his right side, wincing at the pain the movement caused as he reached for his gun.
âActually, they just got here. Gotta let you go,â he said.
âRuss, wait.â
âI love the sound of your voice, you know that?â he said, flickering at a smile. âAnd I love you.â
ââŚI love you too,â you said, on a slightly unsteady breath.
He knew he hadnât convinced you that everything was fine. You were too smart, knew him too well by now.
Regardless, he had to hang up. Then he raised his gun at an angle that still kept his elbow steady, resting against his side.
The door scraped against the ground as it opened. The manâs tall gait came in swiftly, then picked up speed. Russellâs vision might've been blurring on the edges, but he recognized that blonde head. He was able to relax, lowering his gun.
âRuss,â Colter said, grabbing his brotherâs shoulder that didnât have a hole shot through it, just inches below. âHey, you with me?â
âMhmm,â Russell said, as his eyes closed on him for a second. He forced himself to stay awake through sheer willpower. âNot goinâ anywhere, little brother.â
âThatâs right,â Colter said more firmly. The worry was clear in his brown eyes, but he smiled anyway, digging into the small duffel he brought with him. He went for the antiseptic and the bandages first, then the pliers. âYouâre lucky I wasnât too far.â
He moved back Russellâs jacket, then tore at the collar of his grimy, blood-stained shirt.
âWho me? Iâm fine,â Russell said. âIâve had way worse than this.â
âYou donât look fine,â Colter said, trying to gently pry Russellâs hand away from the wound. âHere, let me see.â
âIâm good.â
âNo, youâre not. Move your hand so I can see?â
Russell smirked. âSo bossy.â
Despite himself, Colter shook his head in amusement.
âWhat happened?â he asked.
âNothing I couldnât handle. You should see the other guy.â
âRight. Thatâs why you called me, because you have this all handled.â
Russellâs body seized up with a flinch at Colterâs pliers seeking the fat piece of bullet still lodged inside his chest.
âHey, have a heart, huh?" Russell complained. "Some anesthetic, please.â
It was another 18 hours before Russellâs Chevelle Malibu crossed the threshold of Wyomingâs state line, and another two before he stopped in the driveway outside the modest house he now called home.
He was slow moving as he hefted his duffel bag. Every step was a calculated trudge up the wide, white stones of the pathway. The neighborhood was quiet after dark, but the porch light was on. It was his target, and his beacon.
He unlocked the front door with his keys and found mostly darkness, except for the warm glow of the hallway light. He didnât have time to make it there thoughânot when you were already hurrying out from the master bedroom to meet him.
He smiled at the sight of you in a tank-top and your most well-worn sweatpants, but you looked more relieved than happy. The kind of relief that wasnât calm, even when your hands were on him, gripping his leather jacket like you were making sure he was actually there. He let his duffel fall those few inches to the hardwood floor.
âHey, sweetheart,â he said, though he stiffened and grunted in pain when your hands landed on his shoulders. Specifically, his left.
You pulled back on reflex, gasping softly. You stared up at him in worry. He looked so pale...
âItâs okay,â he said, holding you by your waist. âItâs justââ
You didnât wait for his inevitable lie. You were verging on angry as you carefully pulled down the zipper of his jacket.
âUh, wait a minute,â Russell said, but you couldnât be placated. You wouldnât let him stop you from finding whatever he didnât want you to see.
Soon, you almost wish you had.
âOh my God,â you breathed, though it was choked by tears as you took in the blood covering the entire left side of his gray plaid.
He had a red-tinged bandage covering the area just above his heart. It was held in place by medical tape and stretchy gauze that wrapped around his shoulder and under his arm. His chest and stomach were stained with crimson blotches leading from the wound. He smelled like rust and antiseptic, grime and sweat.
He watched every shade of your reaction, from shock to dismay. In hindsight, he should've at least tossed the shirt.
âRussell, what the fuck?â you said shakily.
His hand raised to cradle your cheek, earning your attention back up to his face rather than his body. His thumb caressed your skin, brushed away some tears.
âIt looks worse than it is,â he said.
You shook your head. âYou need to go to a hospital."
âI already got patched up. Itâs okay, just need to sleep it off,â he replied. Colter had stabilized him enough to take him to the closest ER for the stitches. Colt even stuck with him until the doctor was done, probably to make sure Russell actually sat through the whole process.
âItâs not okay,â you snapped. âItâs not fucking okay.â
You stepped away from him and retreated back into the bedroom, holding a trembling hand to your mouth as you went.
He didnât exactly know if he was welcome, but he really needed a shower and a solid nightâs sleep, and he never slept better than when he was beside you.
But you avoided looking at him as you got ready for bed, haphazardly ripping off throw pillows and pulling back the comforter. Russell noticed your laptop on the nightstand, no less than three half-drunk mugs of coffee pushed back by the lamp, as well as a small hoard of candy wrappers and a bowl of popcorn on the floor. It was near four in the morning, and you hadnât even tried to go to sleep. Or more likely, you couldnât.
Russell carried the weight of that guilt into the adjoining bathroom, where he started by slowly trying to take off his jacket. He got halfway through peeling the sleeve off his left shoulder before the sharp pull of his wound forced a hiss from between his teeth.
âFuck,â he said under his breath. There were more grunts and struggles, though he tried to keep it quiet. Once the jacket was a useless pile on the floor, he got a better look at his tattered shirt and released a steadying breath, almost shrugging at himself. All right, here goes.
He pulled back the collar of his shirt, but dried blood had adhered the fabric to the sensitive skin around his wound.
âGoddamn it,â he said lowly.
The bathroom door slid open. You paused in the entryway and crossed your arms, taking in every ridiculous part of this.
For once, Russell didnât know what to say. He didnât want to upset you (anymore), and he had a feeling youâd appreciate a you should see the other guy joke even less than Colter had.
âSit,â you said, pointing at the closed toilet lid.
âI got this,â Russell said. But you pinned him with a sharp look.
âRussell, sit down.â
He quirked his head. âOkay. Yes, maâam.â
Your lips almost curved upward, but you remained firm. Your hands were gentle though; they grasped his arm and helped him sit. You started with the easiest part, kneeling down on the tile floor to unlace his boots.
Russell wanted to tell you that you didnât have to do it, but he also didnât want to rile you up again. Instead, he steadied himself by grabbing the edge of the counter. Guilt twinged more heavily in his heart as he watched you slide off his left boot. He tried to help you with the right one, hooking his foot behind the heel, but you laid a hand on his knee.
âIâll do it,â you said, your gaze flicking up to his. âJust stay still.â
Russell paused, but he conceded. Soon youâd worked off his boots and socks, then slowly, his shirt. He held you to him afterward, by your hips. You saw that even his hands were stained pink. Either heâd scrubbed them raw or hadnât scrubbed them hard enough.
âWhat happened?â you asked.
âJustâŚyou know, got clipped,â he said. âItâs no big deal. As you can see, Iâm fine.â
You shot him a flat look. âHow did it happen?â
He sighed. âYou know I canât tell you that.â
That you did, but you hated it anyway. Your gaze once again drew to the web of bandages wrapped around his right shoulder. Your fingertips landed just beside the thickest padding above his heart. Russellâs hand covered yours.
âThank you...and Iâm sorry,â he said at last. âDidnât mean to worry you.â
Your lips pursed. You took his face in your hands, a touch softer as you stroked his bearded cheeks. He was still too pale, but nonetheless, unfairly handsome.
âPlease donât do this to yourself anymore,â you said. âDonât do this to me. You promised youâd be done with Horizon by now.â
Russell nodded. âI know.â
âYou know?â Your brows rose. âDo you know what the past 24 hours were like for me since you called me in the middle of the night like that? I could hear it in your voice. You werenât sure you were going to make it home.â
Your voice wavered as tears welled up in your eyes again, despite your attempts to blink them away with a sniff.
Russell didnât have a clever retort this time. No way to downplay or tease. He had come back with a few scrapes and sprains before, but this was different. That look on your face when you opened his jacket, saw the blood and bandages, probably picturing a horror show underneath...
He wasn't ever going to forget that look. And it was better he didn't. He had to remind himself that you were a civilian. You weren't used to all this shit, the hazards of the job.
âYouâre right. Itâs not fair to you,â he said. âJust uhâŚgive me a month or so to wrap things up. I already signed on for a couple more contracts.â
âYou better mean it, Russ,â you said. You tilted his face upward, making sure he met your eyes. âYou gave me your word.â
âI know, and Iâm gonna keep it,â he said, squeezing your hips. He smiled. âTo prove it, how about we reseal the deal, huh?â
You stared down at him, heaving a more exasperated sigh.
âCome on,â he said, biting his lip on a smirk. âWe both know you wanna kiss the hell out of me.â
You wanted to slap him, more like.
You shook your head and pressed his face between your hands, grunting in sheer annoyance. But you still bowed your head and kissed him.
He smiled against your lips. His arms slid around your waist and trapped you against his body. He hummed at the feeling of you, of every soft curve that fit just right against him.
Your fingers slipped through his hair, gently at first. But you reminded him of your resolve with a tighter grip.
âI'm serious,â you warned, between kisses. Each one meant something differentârelief, fear, yearning, passion, love, and long-suffering all at once.
He nodded, though he groaned, palming your ass as your tongue slipped against his.
âI got it, sweetheart,â he said. "Not happening again."
His hands then wandered down your back, dipping under the waistband of your sweatpants. He found you bare underneath, no panties. He was pleased at the thought as he pressed a line of open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, earning your soft moan. His fingers trailed under your tank top next, pushing the fabric up higher and raising goosebumps in his wake.
âTake a shower with me?â he asked, with lips pressed to your skin.
âHmph. You definitely need a shower,â you said through slightly panting breaths. You helped him stand so you both could work on getting off his jeans.
He grinned. âSo thatâs a yes?â
Your lips threatened a smile in return.
âThatâs a, get your ass in there,â you said, but you grabbed his elbows to steady him when his broad frame teetered on his feet. âBe careful.â
His hand fell to your shoulder gratefully.
âYes, maâam.â
AN: lol what are we gonna do with him? đ I think this helps make even more sense why reader's so mad at him in Part 1 of Breaking Point.
And I seriously hope Russell comes back more regularly for season 4. That twist at the end of 3x22 is more interesting than any other episode/arc in S3 imo. Until then, hope you enjoy some angsty hurt/comfort!
Let me know what you think in the reblogs/comments! đđŠľđ
Tag List Form || Fic Library Blog ⢠(you can follow and turn on notifications)
Join My Patreon ⥠Get early access to new chapters, stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories. Top-tier patrons can even send me requests!
Breaking Point Masterlist
Every Second Counts Masterlist
Russell Shaw Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Russell Shaw Tag List:
@lamentationsofalonelypotato @chevroletdean @deans-spinster-witch @luci-in-trenchcoats @waynes-multiverse
@foxyjwls007 @kazsrm67 @roseblue373 @rizlowwritessortof @globetrotter28
@charmed-asylum @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @kmc1989
@jackles010378 @jessjad @my-stories-vault @ultimatecin73 @masked-lost-girl
@pieandmonsters @grilledcheeseandtomato @nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @spnaquakindgdom
@onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways @alwaystiredandconfused @cheynovak
@arcannaa @angelbabyyy99 @twinkleinadiamondsky @ladysparkles78 @deadlydivergentgirl
@0ccvltism @deansbbyx @lacilou @star-yawnznn @stoneyggirl2
@supernotnatural2005 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @hobby27 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @k-slla
@winchestergirl2 @a-lil-pr1ncess @winchester-whiskey @lyarr24
Russell Shaw Tag List (Part 2):
@megara0224 @perpetualabsurdity @deansimpala @impala-dreamer @jc-winchester
@cookiechipdough @bleuatlas @writtenbyhollywood @podiumackles @nancymcl
@winchesterwild78 @gabavaldman @lori19 @deansimpalababy @lunaleah
@kimxwinchester @superbouquetgarden @disappearintofanfiction @lupinslibraries @periandernyx
@alexxavicry @mistressofallthingsgeeky @kiddieclaws @condors-safety @magic-sprinkled-daydreams
@dragonfly92 @teamackles96 @stephv213 @poisonivy2267 @onlyyyariii
@sbwifey @missverse @smoothdogsgirl @idjit-central @jtink27
@coffeejustcoffee @hunter-or-the-hunted @hereswhatimyellingabouttoday @soullessambs @westendgirlsworld
@wvffles @uniqueeamber @abby-splace @simpfordeanwinchester03 @castielscaplan
@beltzboys2015-blog @nekkiotine @dina-winchester @spnaddict13 @deans-baby-momma
Ahhh love and miss these two so much. The angst was here today and done wonderfully.












