Supernatural drabble: Taste
Disclaimer: Kripke's Keeper of Supernatural; I just borrowed them for play.
Author's Note: a spn_30snapshots drabble from theme 1 (Elemental).
Spoilers: I suppose for 4.19 (Jump the Shark).
***
The guy had been brought in bleeding heavily and profusely and hovering near the edge of unconsciousness. However, a railroad of stitches later and the guy gained a great deal of consciousness. His skin had yet to gain back very much colour though.
"Can I get you some food?" Kate asks as she feels his wrist for his pulse, which dips and swells like an ocean tide.
"Can I get you some food?" the guy asks, sliding his hand into hers.
When she meets his brown eyes (her dog has eyes like them) his lips part with a grin and his eyes fold at the edges like rumpled bedsheets (looking like her dog's when he stretchs into a play bow).
He's a patient, she thinks, reaching for the blood pressure cuff. As she wraps the cuff around his arm she can't help noticing the shapeliness of it. It slopes gently with muscles. Oh dear, she thinks. She's waded into the ocean farther than she thought and the undertow is tugging on her feet, directing them where to go.
She puts the blood pressure cuff away. "You're good to go," she says.
"Are you good to go?" he says.
She doesn't have to look at her watch. "Yeah."
The guy presses his lips to the corner of hers. She feels his stubble, rough against the delicate skin of her face.
Author's Note: a spn_30snapshots drabble from theme 1 (Elemental).
Spoilers: I suppose for 4.19 (Jump the Shark).
***
The guy had been brought in bleeding heavily and profusely and hovering near the edge of unconsciousness. However, a railroad of stitches later and the guy gained a great deal of consciousness. His skin had yet to gain back very much colour though.
"Can I get you some food?" Kate asks as she feels his wrist for his pulse, which dips and swells like an ocean tide.
"Can I get you some food?" the guy asks, sliding his hand into hers.
When she meets his brown eyes (her dog has eyes like them) his lips part with a grin and his eyes fold at the edges like rumpled bedsheets (looking like her dog's when he stretchs into a play bow).
He's a patient, she thinks, reaching for the blood pressure cuff. As she wraps the cuff around his arm she can't help noticing the shapeliness of it. It slopes gently with muscles. Oh dear, she thinks. She's waded into the ocean farther than she thought and the undertow is tugging on her feet, directing them where to go.
She puts the blood pressure cuff away. "You're good to go," she says.
"Are you good to go?" he says.
She doesn't have to look at her watch. "Yeah."
The guy presses his lips to the corner of hers. She feels his stubble, rough against the delicate skin of her face.