( his own wounds had already been nursed, only one that'd required a few stitches at the outer of his arm, snapping the thread with his teeth before nestling everything back together into that first aid kid. there was a handful of them lying around the bunker, and he's well aware that her own would need attention. from the way she held her own back there, however, he doesn't find it right to assume that she hasn't suffered an open wound before. he knows what it's like, to prefer to take care of himself, how difficult it is to accept the offering of a harbor she couldn't even really be sure was anywhere safe.
sam'd insisted just as much as the elder, and the two of them had spoken lowly about the accommodations before she'd slipped off quietly into the shower. of course, that'd included for him not to pull any shit, to which dean offered up two palms as if in a white-flagged gesture. sam's always found sleep a hell of a lot easier than he has; once upon a time he'd envied it, but dean's gotten used to the quiet of the bunker, the endless books at his disposal, a mind that never ceases to keep him company with harrowing thoughts.
he hears the light pad of her footsteps before her figure appears in the entry, glancing up from where he's leaning, and he can't help but look her over. it's a quick study, more appreciative than it is predatory. this wasn't the time nor place, wasn't some quick lay in a motel room, but there was no denying the allure she held standing before him so simple, so bare and in his clothes nonetheless. those dark scarlet locks dampening the collar of the shirt, the supple expanse of her skin, he finds himself clearing his throat and forcing his gaze down to the bottle in his hands, the briefest of smiles forming at her words. )
Didn't do anything for you that you hadn't done for me and my brother. ( honestly, he couldn't give two shits left what happened to him, but sammy? he'd build anyone a damn throne for sparing him a mere cut. idly, he fidgets with the beer in his hand before raising it to his lips once more, nursing on it familiarly. )
You took a hell of a beating back there. ( voice is low as it is gentle, gravel-toned and careful. he knows she isn't comfortable; hell, he can't blame her, but that doesn't mean he won't try and mend that over. ) You alright?
đžđ đđđđ đđđđđ đļđ đđžđđŊđ.
( his own wounds had already been nursed, only one that'd required a few stitches at the outer of his arm, snapping the thread with his teeth before nestling everything back together into that first aid kid. there was a handful of them lying around the bunker, and he's well aware that her own would need attention. from the way she held her own back there, however, he doesn't find it right to assume that she hasn't suffered an open wound before. he knows what it's like, to prefer to take care of himself, how difficult it is to accept the offering of a harbor she couldn't even really be sure was anywhere safe.
sam'd insisted just as much as the elder, and the two of them had spoken lowly about the accommodations before she'd slipped off quietly into the shower. of course, that'd included for him not to pull any shit, to which dean offered up two palms as if in a white-flagged gesture. sam's always found sleep a hell of a lot easier than he has; once upon a time he'd envied it, but dean's gotten used to the quiet of the bunker, the endless books at his disposal, a mind that never ceases to keep him company with harrowing thoughts.
he hears the light pad of her footsteps before her figure appears in the entry, glancing up from where he's leaning, and he can't help but look her over. it's a quick study, more appreciative than it is predatory. this wasn't the time nor place, wasn't some quick lay in a motel room, but there was no denying the allure she held standing before him so simple, so bare and in his clothes nonetheless. those dark scarlet locks dampening the collar of the shirt, the supple expanse of her skin, he finds himself clearing his throat and forcing his gaze down to the bottle in his hands, the briefest of smiles forming at her words. )
Didn't do anything for you that you hadn't done for me and my brother. ( honestly, he couldn't give two shits left what happened to him, but sammy? he'd build anyone a damn throne for sparing him a mere cut. idly, he fidgets with the beer in his hand before raising it to his lips once more, nursing on it familiarly. )
You took a hell of a beating back there. ( voice is low as it is gentle, gravel-toned and careful. he knows she isn't comfortable; hell, he can't blame her, but that doesn't mean he won't try and mend that over. ) You alright?