#again and again...

I'll help you put on your motorcycle suit, but don't ask me to do it every half hour…

          having sustained several injuries during their last attempt to earn some capital, he now finds himself resting on the lounge, rejoicing in the few moments of well-deserved silence. faye’d left to finish some unspecified business, as per usual, and ed was nowhere to be found. somehow, this is the most silent the ship’s been in a while. he’s not complaining, however. his head is craned onto armrest, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. while trying to distract himself from the overwhelming ache, there’s a moment in which he almost dozes off. moments later, he wakes up cold, sweat trickling down his forehead. he attempts to lift head somewhat, but the lesions scattered across his body oppose him almost immediately. when spike enters the room, he greets him with a pained nod.

          his temperature’s been increasing gradually, and the brisk touch his partner brings about is welcomed. save the callouses from wielding firearms so often, his palm feels almost comfortable. had his body allowed him to move, perhaps he would have leaned in even more. ‘ h-hey, ’ his speech comes to a halt, a rough cough replacing whatever idea he wished to emit then. there’s a dab of blood in the corner of his mouth that he quickly wipes with the back of his hand. he continues, a guttural laughter following suit. ‘ ‘s not that bad. i’ve been through worse. you hanging in there? ’

Tamsin ("Lost Girl")

I get you, Tammy, same with mine. Same with mine....