Monday - Hurt/Comfort

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Hello there! I'm your guest host for the week, megans_writing!


What's better to cure your case of the Mondays than a little Hurt/Comfort? Horrible sickness, broken bones and hugs? If you are stuck on ideas check the prompt list at hc_bingo.


Remember the rules!
No more than three prompts from one fandom.
No more than five prompts in a row; if one of your prompts is answered then you can prompt again.
No spoilers until at least a week after air-/publication date. If your fill contains a spoiler please warn accordingly.


Format for Prompts:
Fandom, character or pairing, prompt -- OR (for a Crossover) Fandom/Fandom, Character or pairing, prompt


Examples:
Castle, Martha+Castle+Alexis, bad breakup
Torchwood/Twilight, Jack/Carlisle, battle scars


Of course if you don't like today's theme, why not check out the Lonely Prompts?


tag=hurt/comfort

Comments

[klutzy-girl.livejournal.com]

Eureka, Jo/Zane, she takes care of Zane after he gets a migraine

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Torchwood/Twilight, Jack/Carlisle, battle scars

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Castle, Martha+Castle+Alexis, bad breakup

[ravenspear.livejournal.com]

Supernatural; Castiel/Adam;
sleep now is descending like a dream
still i'm shaking from the softness of your skin
hold on to me, love
and make it all feel alright

[sheryden.livejournal.com]

Kane RPS, Chris/Steve, Steve has gotten really good at taking car of Chris when he gets sick on the road

[sheryden.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot + team, even Hitters need some TLC

[sheryden.livejournal.com]

Angel the Series, Lindsey/Wesley, Lindsey and Wes get to know each other when Wes binds one of Lindsey's injuries

FILL

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Lindsey never noticed him before. He doesn’t think – and he believes Wes would agree with him on this – anyone could have their eye on Angel and notice someone else. Not the way Lindsey notices Wes now. Angel is a flame. And when you’re all wrapped up in him, everybody else is just another moth. Lindsey had blinders on when he was obsessed with the vampire. He’s pretty sure Wes did too.

But having his blinders off isn’t the only reason Lindsey notices Wes now. The length of Wes’s fingers. The shape of Wes’s jaw. The different tones of voice that mark Wes’s moods and the specific glances that go with them – Wesley has a dozen of them. Narrowed eyes and a dry tone when he’s suspicious; a blinking stare and a quiet stutter when he’s surprised. A hot gaze when he catches on that Lindsey’s coming on to him and a voice like whiskey when he decides that he’s okay with it.

It isn’t that Wes helped Lindsey when Lindsey needed help. Wes is the guy who helps people. Like Angel. Like Gunn; a white hat. Lindsey was bleeding out, so of course Wes helped him. They would have been one hand down in their war against Hell on earth if Wes hadn’t. No, it’s the way Wes helped him that caught Lindsey’s eye. That made him stop and notice.

Wes was gentle. Maybe Lindsey wasn’t giving the others much credit by being surprised by that, but he was. And there were no backhanded compliments while Wes bandaged Lindsey up, no quiet barbs because he’d been a second too slow with that demon and nearly got his guts spilled out. Wes’s words were short and brusque but sincere and his eyes weren’t anything but blue and patient when he asked if Lindsey’s binds were too tight, if he needed any other assistance.

It’d been a while since someone had been gentle with Lindsey. Longer since Lindsey could trust the gentleness he’d been given. Lindsey watched Wes, wary, for days after that, wondering what the guy was up to. Now he just watches Wes. Wondering.

It takes Angel noticing for Lindsey to realize that he’s doing it.

“Stop stalking Wesley,” Angel tells him. “Or if he doesn’t kick your ass for it, I will.”

The vampire’s just one big, broody dark cloud of intent. And it’s startling to Lindsey. That – for maybe the first time he can remember – he isn’t thrilled that Angel is intent on him. Even Angel’s anger, his hatred, has never failed to fascinate Lindsey.

For once, Lindsey isn’t fascinated. He keeps a blank face and ignores the churning of his stomach as he asks, “Wes tell you he has a problem with it?”

He doesn’t bother denying Angel’s accusation. If one grown man watching another’s every move can’t be termed stalking by some definition, then Lindsey got lucky in over a dozen civil suits he won before going to work for Wolfram & Hart.

Angel frowns. Like Lindsey’s startled him too. Like Lindsey isn’t playing right and this is a game.

Usually… Lindsey would say that everything is. But the thought of Wes having a problem with him doesn’t make Lindsey feel much like playing.

So when Angel stutters, “No… Not ex-“ that’s good enough for him.

Lindsey grins. “Well, alright then.”

“Lindsey-“

“I’ll stop stalking him.”

Wesley’s just walked into the room. Lindsey makes a decision. He strides up to Wesley, ignoring everything else. Angel’s angry question. Wesley’s expression of surprise.

“Lindsey, what are you-“

He grabs Wesley, framing Wes’s face with his hands, and kisses him.

In the background, he thinks maybe Angel’s going apoplectic, but he isn’t really paying attention.

“Is that better?” he asks, when they come up for air. Lindsey doesn’t take his eyes off of Wes.

Wes doesn’t take his eyes off of him. Wes blinks. Finally, he says, “I would say… ‘than what’? But if you’ll do it again, I’ll just say yes. Most definitely.”

Lindsey smiles. “Deal.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Angel groans from behind them.

Lindsey doesn’t notice.

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean + Sam/Gabriel, seeing Sam with Gabriel hurts but since the archangel is able to comfort Sam regarding his memories of hell, Dean bears it in silence

[samueljames]

Primeval, Connor/Abby & Cutter, helping Cutter in the aftermath of Stephen's death with small practicalities like shopping/sorting Stephen's things.

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Legend of the Seeker, Richard/Kahlan, near death experience

[samueljames]

Numb3rs, Colby/Charlie, Colby opens up about his father's death and Charlie comforts him.

[samueljames]

Angel, Angel/Wes, Angel treats an injury that he caused (dark is okay but nothing approaching dub con or non con please)

FILL 1/2

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

The first time it happens, it is purely by accident. Angel forgets his own strength. Wesley is too distracted to know himself if it is in pain or in pleasure that he screams. Angel is horrified as soon as they begin to return to themselves, he releases Wesley's wrists, and Wesley cries out, pain radiating from the slender bones Angel had gripped too tight.

"Honestly, Angel. This is unnecessary. I'm certain I can manage-"

"And I'm certain I won't let you." Angel smiles, setting Wesley's tea cup down on the table at Wesley's right. If there were pillows on Wesley's couch, Wesley is rather afraid that Angel would plump them. "You're complaining because I'm pampering you?" His tone is light, his expression casual, but Wesley can see the guilt - the fear - still lingering in his eyes.

Wesley just studies him. "I actually found it quite flattering," he says quietly. "I must have done something right, for you to have lost control that way."

Wesley is teasing. Masking his own mixed emotions about the incident, sure - from Angel's reaction - that Angel would not appreciate them.

"If I lose control, Wes, I could hurt you," Angel says immediately, heatedly. Something twists in Wesley's chest as the false neutrality fades away and Angel's remorse bleeds into his facial expression. "I hurt you," he says again.

No more than Wesley is hurt on a more or less regular basis, and under much less pleasurable circumstances, Wesley wants to say - but his mind sticks on the word 'pleasurable'.

Angel might not appreciate this... And it's not as if Wesley doesn't realize the danger in dangling an admission like this in front of a centuries-old vampire; one who - as Angelus - had taken great pleasure in suffering. In the suffering of others', anyhow. But.

"I liked it." The words escape Wesley before he can think better of letting them free.

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Sherlock BBC, Sherlock/John, "It's just a cold."

fill: just a nothing

[psychedelicammo.livejournal.com]

"It's just a cold." John insisted from behind a balled up tissue. Sherlock didn't look particularly convinced. But Sherlock couldn't even care for himself and the last thing John needed was him setting the kitchen ablaze in some ill advised attempt to heat up canned soup.
​
"I've called into the clinic for you. They won't be expecting you for some days. Sarah assumed that your illness was entirely my fault. I have no idea how she came to that illogical conclusion. " ​

John tried to sigh, but it came out more as a truly pathetic sniffle, as he watched Sherlock measure the exact dosage of Nyquil needed to knock him out. ​

"Drink that up. I'll make you some toast."
​
John knocked back the nasty tasting stuff like a shot and struggled to sit up on the couch so he could see into the kitchen. There was far too much clanging and clacking going on for a piece of toast.
​
"Sherlock!" He called, even as the drugged lethargy of artificial sleeping aids settled into his system. He blew his nose loudly and settled for keeping an ear out. If he smelled smoke, the phone was in reach.
​
Sherlock returned two minutes or two hours later, John really couldn't tell the difference, and sat on the couch by John's feet, holding a tray of burnt toast slathered with preserves and a glass of orange juice. ​

He watched like a hawk as John chewed and swallowed each bite and washed it down with juice. John shifted uncomfortably, it was rare that he was the sole focus of Sherlock's attention.
​
"It's nothing, really." John said just as he was caught in another coughing fit. ​

Sherlock snorted rudely. "If you truly think that you are a terrible doctor." He set the plates aside and crawled up the length of the couch to rest beside John.
​
"Oh, are we cuddling now? Really?" John asked even as he put an arm around Sherlock. "You're going to get sick too." ​

Sherlock pushed his face against John's fever hot skin. "I thought you weren't sick." ​

"Oh bugger." John swore, caught again by that superior Holmesian intellect. He slipped off into Nyquil dreams to the sound of Sherlock chuckling softly.

[samueljames]

Chaos, Billy/Rick, a weekend away doesn't go to plan when one of them gets a stomach bug but his partner looks after him and is surprisingly sympathetic.

[samueljames]

Southland, author's choice, seeing awful things is pretty much part of their job description but it's different when a colleague has killed themselves.

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Willow+Buffy+Xander, helping Willow mourn/get over Tara's death

[tigriswolf]

Highlander, Duncan/Methos, Richie would've been racing starships today

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Good Omens/Supernatural, Sam/Aziraphale/GO!Crowley, Crowley snatches Sam from the cage and brings him the angel for healing

[tigriswolf]

A-Team film, Hannibal/Face, Face is utterly sure he's not good enough for Hannibal

[tigriswolf]

A-Team movieverse, Hannibal/Face, Face never says no because that's when people leave

[tigriswolf]

A-Team film, Hannibal/Face or gen, Face gets transferred or borrowed by another team; his team suffers in his absence

[tigriswolf]

Glee, Kurt/Karofsky or Sam or Puck or Blaine (or gen), 5 times that his friends learned Kurt almost died, and the one time they save his life (he'd been thinking about suicide)

[natural-blue-26.livejournal.com]

Animorphs, Tobias/Rachel, midnight confessions on the night before the battle that changes them forever

[ravenspear.livejournal.com]

Supernatural; Meg/any; in Hell, hurt can be the comfort.

[ravenspear.livejournal.com]

Supernatural; any vessel/any vessel; they understand, like no one else ever could.

[zekkass.livejournal.com]

[ooc: Set post-SPN in a little AU where all the vessels have their support group and a lot of booze. OCs abound for the poor vessels who didn't get names, but they're all identified.

...not that I need to explain this to you, but if anyone else reads this. :P]

"We don't have to go to this," he repeats, hand on the door. "We can turn around and go home."

After a long pause, long enough for Ingvar to see that without some pushing that Donnie might just actually walk away, Ingvar acts. "In," he says, and steps closer. He doesn't touch, and doesn't reach out to even pretend that he might shove, but it's enough.

Donnie folds and walks in, looking around with nervous, darting movements as Ingvar holds the door to let Ashley follow them in.

Ashley, for his part, doesn't try to be difficult like Donnie. It's obvious that he's reluctant to come in, and even more obvious that he doesn't like the crate of booze he's carrying in, but he doesn't bother complaining or subtly dropping the crate instead of putting it down gently when he reaches the room they've made their own for these little get togethers.

"Everyone here?" Ingvar asks, before closing the door behind him and making a beeline for his usual spot on the couch. They've got two beaten up couches in here, a table, and numerous folding chairs. (If anyone asked Jimmy - which they won't - it reminds him of one of those back rooms in the church he used to go to, where the AA group met. The only things that are missing from the room are a stack of bibles and cheerful paintings on the wall with bible quotes on them.)

Nick is the one to clear his throat and stand up. He's clearly uncomfortable about this, but someone has to call roll-call.

"Er, hi. We've got some new people here today...so. Um. Names?" Nick looks around, hoping someone will take the hint.

"Ingvar," Ingvar says, and thank god for him. He might be already popping open a bottle, but the only person in here who cares about drinking too much is Ashley. "My horson was Gabriel," he says, and takes a drink.

Which is a fair enough introduction, Jimmy figures, and decides that since he's to the left of Ingvar he'll go next. "I'm Jimmy. Jimmy Novak. And mine was Castiel." It's bitter but immensely satisfying to emphasize the 'was' in that sentence.

It goes like this: "Nick. Ah...Lucifer." "Robin. Raphael." "I am Ashley. Can I not say his name?...Oh, fine. Balthazar. May he rot in Hell." "This is really cheesy, guys. I'm Adam, it was Michael, please pass one of those bottles over here." "Adam, behave. [...] I'm Reginald. I had Uriel."

And it ends with: "...Donnie. It was, was Raphael." No one comments on his pauses, or on how long it takes for him to finally say Raphael's name.

Ingvar immediately gets a bottle to him. They're not here to talk about it. They're not here to tell stories. Not unless they want to.

"...Don't offer any, please," Ashley says. "I know what alcohol tastes like."

"But how long has it been since you've been drunk?" Adam presses, and doesn't lower the bottle he's holding out. "Trust me, it helps."

"Trust you?" There's scorn in his voice, a hint of the barbed words he will probably say next, but before anything can come of it, Nick takes the bottle and sets it down.

"Turn it down, fine," He says. "But don't say anything about trust. We all made mistakes to get here, and yours wasn't the worst. Believe me."

Adam pats Nick's shoulder and lifts his hand, leaning back into the couch, giving Ashley a look. "I won't hold it against you. We're not perfect now, either."

Reginald snorts (visions of a potato still in his basement floating through his mind) and raises his bottle. "I'll drink to that."

There are nods, and Jimmy strikes up a conversation with Robin about her living arrangements, and Ashley gets some water, and it's not particularly eventful after that, but -

Donnie's nervous jerks have calmed down some by the time he leaves with Ingvar and Ashley, and the haunted look in everyone's eyes has lightened some. Probably due mostly to the beer, but there's something to be said for companionship.

That, and for being in the company of people who have been there, with people who understand, like no one else ever could.