#matthcwholt

   “Is this what we’re working with?” Hunk asks. His tone slightly critical from the way he observe the machinery in front of him. It looks old and desolate. Not like the altean technology he grew accustomed too.

A special thanks to:

Date maybe? // @matthcwholt // Closed

‘‘Would it help if I scooted over and made some space for you?’‘ He asked. Not like they hadn’t slept in one bed before. Matt didn’t mind. ‘’Have you been having nightmares or....?’’ Maybe if he knew the reason she had trouble sleeping he could help and fix it for her.

And if sleeping next to him would fix it, she was more than welcome to sleep over whenever she needed to. Matt couldn’t care less if anyone thought it was weird. It wasn’t to him. Especially not after everything they both went through. To be fair, he would probably sleep better knowing for sure that she was safe as well.

“i don’t even sleep long enough for nightmares,” she admits. Pidge doesn’t even let Matt get to the scooting-over point before she lets all the tension go in her frame and whumps face-first onto him in his bed. She’s not heavy enough to cause real, lasting damage. “every time i get close to rest i just... jerk back awake again. i physically cannot sleep. i’m stuck in that... you know when you’re not quite out, and you’re still thinking, and your brain goes all sorts of horrible places? they’re not nightmares. they’re worse. nightmares at least make no sense and just kind of go away after a few minutes of waking up. this stuff sticks around.”

Matt looked over, a look of concern on his face, holding a hand out to her, ‘’Can you still squeeze my hand?’’ He asked then, obviously worried. ‘’We’re almost back at the castle.. you’re going to be fine.’’ He said as he looked at her injury. ‘’It doesn’t look good..’’ Matt commented. Yes, thank you captain obvious. Everyone could see that it didn’t look good. Yet he still felt the need to point it out. He was rambling a little due to the worry. 

Pidge has lost... a lot of blood. Were she at full capacity, she could have rambled off to Matt exactly what that kind of blood loss does to a person, how the body takes bloodflow away from extremities and directs it back to vital organs, especially the brain. Right now, though, she’s got one arm crossed over her stomach, trying to literally, physically hold herself together, and her other arm reaching towards her brother for any kind of comfort. That slice hit her right below her chest plating, in the soft of her belly, and it went deep, through her abdominal wall and down to her organs; she’s probably holding her pancreas in her right hand, if she really wanted to look down and could handle it without puking. The shock of so much blood loss has her nearly delirious, in a floaty, half-conscious way, and she’s aware, in some faraway place, that it’s soaked through the front of her suit all the way down to her thigh plating, even starting to pool under her at this point.