#mcmachine

“I’ve been staring at the same scan for the past twenty minutes. If this was Mark he would have figured it out by now.”

she sighed, quietly, glancing to the side to look at april. head dropped a little between her shoulders and she breathes in, teeth pressing firmly against her lower lip. “will you, please?” because she doesn’t know if she can do this part on her own. she’s frustrated and she just needs a friend to stand by her side.

“it’s barely a scratch,” she mutters quietly. hand lifts to wipe the blood from the cut stretching across her face. she’s not sure how it keeps happening but somehow every time she gets hurt, they end up catching her right across her scar. it always reopens and it always hurts more than the last time. “it’ll heal.”

                  jackson  rushed  to  keep  up  with  april.  “  i  forgot  to  send  the  bunny  lovely  with  harriet.  “  he  rubbed  the  back  of  his  neck,  also  offering  the  coffee  he  had  picked  up  for  her.  being  around  her  was  easier  than  it  had  used  to  be,  especially  if  the  focus  could  be  trained  on  their  daughter  and  not  his  own  feelings.  he  cleared  his  throat,  almost  sheepish,  “  for  the  last  few  nights  she  hasn’t  slept  without  it.  didn't  want  that  to  give  you  any  trouble.  ”

          waking up in a strange bed wasn't exactly a new thing for buck, especially when accompanied by the sterile smell of a hospital and sheets that felt just a tad too scratchy. he's not surprised at all when he blinks his eyes open to the bright fluorescent lights of the room, nose wrinkling slightly as he swallows. oh, wow. that hurt. it filled in some blanks, though, allowing the memories to filter in from what had happened before he fell unconscious. he had been at a call, stuck in a burning building, and he'd taken his mask off to give it to a kid.. smoke inhalation. and..? he blinks, realizing rather belatedly that a doctor was in the room looking at his chart.   "wha---"   oh, jesus. he has to stop and clear his throat, wincing slightly at the burn, head tilting back into the pillow for a long moment.   "what's the damage, doc?"   and yeah, he sounds like he gargled glass shards, but it's just an occupational hazard at this point.

@mcmachine // starter

“Sorry.” Was the first thing he said, once the flashback faded into the background. He rubbed at his face to hide the wetness of his eyes. God, he hated being weak. “I don’t usually...It’s been a while since that happened.” It had been a while since Hell, and part of Dean felt like it was ridiculous to still be affected by it. But the real reason it had been a while since he’d had a flashback to Alastair’s torment was because he’d learned to avoid certain triggers. “I just...there are some songs I can’t listen to anymore.” It had come on the radio, one of the songs Alastair had liked to hum to him, while he worked. They’d been having a nice night together and of course Dean had to ruin it. “M’sorry. You don’t have to...m’okay now.” He didn’t know why, but he had the urge to tell her everything, shit he didn’t talk about with anyone, ever. He bit his tongue. April didn’t deserve to have that put on her. What would she think, if she knew he’d been to Hell? Didn’t that damn him, literally? He didn’t want her to look at him differently. Especially if she found out about the things he did down there.