#bornbreathless.

In the Boy Scouts, they teach you everything you need to know to survive in the wild: how to build a fire, tie secure knots, use blades, and even stitch up a wound.

What they don’t prepare you for is what to do when someone has been shot and asks you to fish out the bullet for them. And he doesn’t know if it’s the thought making him lightheaded or the blood staining their clothes.

But this has nothing to do with him, and if there’s one thing he won’t do, it’s walk away from helping her.

"Yeah, uh… I should have some at home. I really think we should go."

For more than one reason: they’re not safe yet, and it’s not certain whoever shot her has left the premises.

In his defense, his phone was new, and he was testing out his camera... but doing so in the bathroom, stark naked, in front of a mirror? He doesn't have a good explanation for that, maybe in case he needs it later, as content to share is so scarce when you're on the road.

Well, later is now, and as soon as he realizes he can't unsend that picture, he puts his phone away, trying to ignore the situation until it blows over.

But his curiosity gets the better of him when he hears his phone ring, and when he's rewarded for his lewdness in kind, he's almost certain his heart has skipped a beat.

He should get that checked out.

"Lower than that? Huh..."

He's pensive, considering and contemplating just what she means. She forgoed being direct with her request, something he can take advantage of.

So, he leans down... to press a kiss on her nose. 

Dean knows what a coincidence is, and he knows this isn't one—however, if she wants to pretend that she hasn’t been following him, he'll go along with it, but he'll be extra careful moving forward.

CARING FOR STUBBORN MUSES

@bornbreathless: "How long has it last been since you slept?"

"Uhh…"

Sam can't say for sure, but the light seeping through the blinds provides some indication, especially considering it had been pitch black just a couple of hours ago.

@bornbreathless liked for a starter from Rob

Rob holds his coffee cup in his hands, letting the steam rise to his face as he settles into the farthest corner of the shop. The place is small and warm in that overdone "artsy" way—exposed brick walls, mismatched furniture, and a chalkboard menu that requires squinting to decipher (or maybe he's just getting old). It's not his usual spot, but it's close enough to the studio and wonderfully quiet in the mornings.

He'd been coming here often enough to recognize a few regulars, but one stood out: The girl who lived upstairs. He didn’t know much about her other than that she always seemed to be on the go—running in and out of the shop, heading off to who-knows-where.

Today, she sauntered in wearing running gear and a pair of sunglasses on her head despite the overcast weather. Rob tried not to stare but found himself eavesdropping nonetheless, her order spilling out of her with the kind of precision that only came from repetition.

Smirking to himself, Rob makes a decision: he'd been meaning to say something to her eventually, now seems as good a time as any.

When she turns around, balancing her drink and a small paper bag, their eyes meet, and he raises his cup in a half-wave.

"You're the upstairs runner."

Rob speaks matter-of-factly, his voice carrying just enough curiosity to invite a response.

Watching a scary movie as a hunter can be challenging. Whether the film features real monsters or not, it's hard to resist pointing out inconsistencies or going off on tangents about what the characters should have done to stay safe. It's no fun.

That's probably why Sam convinced Char to let him pick the movie; there are a few on his list that he knows he can enjoy without making any unnecessary comments.

Tonight's choice? The original Evil Dead.

He sets it up on his TV before joining her on the couch, their choice of drinks waiting for them on the coffee table.

"Should we get some popcorn?"

HOUSE M.D. SENTENCE STARTERS

@bornbreathless: "Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were having a state-the-obvious contest."

For a woman in her condition, making jokes is kind of ridiculous.

However, even though comebacks are his area of expertise, he can’t focus on what to say when he’s amazed that her heart isn’t beating, and yet here she is, walking and talking—Although he should’ve known better than to point that out to her.