Any time you feel the pain...
Who: Dean Winchester and Julian Bashir (cameo by Elliot Spencer and Jack Harkness maybe?)
When: 3 am...many hours after Julian returns to the hotel.
Where: The Infirmary
What: Dean keeps vigil over the wounded and Julian returns from oblivion.
The pain made it ungodly uncomfortable to rest for very long. And Dean knew if he remained too still in one position, his tortured muscles in his neck and shoulders would eventually seized up and remind him that he had taken a hell of a blow to the kisser. The ice pack had long since gone warm on him and the hunter rolled from the infirmary bed he had been lying on to fetch another for his aching jaw.
He shuffled through the darken infirmary and rifled through the fridge for another pack. Once in hand, Dean put it to his face with a soft moan of relief and ambled over to the medicine cabinet for another dose of ibuprofen.
The clock read that it was a little pass three in the morning. Dean scowled at it and returned across the ward to where there were several other occupied beds. Monitors beeping and running had filled the silence of the night. Jack Harkness slept with an IV draining into his arm. Martha refused to leave the infirmary but was riding on enough painkillers that she sleep pretty soundly against the pain of her broken ribs and the noise. And the last bed, closest to the one he had been lingering in, was Julian.
His color had improved and his monitors showed signs of stability. The morphine drip was strong enough to hopefully let him sleep pain free, now that the sedative had worn off. The hunter stopped for a second to fix a blanket over the other man's chest before turning back to his bed and preparing to climb back into it with his journal, when he heard a soft moan.
Dean frozen, taking the pack away from his cheek and scanned the room before turning and looking back at the doctor. Yes. That noise had definitely come from him.
When: 3 am...many hours after Julian returns to the hotel.
Where: The Infirmary
What: Dean keeps vigil over the wounded and Julian returns from oblivion.
The pain made it ungodly uncomfortable to rest for very long. And Dean knew if he remained too still in one position, his tortured muscles in his neck and shoulders would eventually seized up and remind him that he had taken a hell of a blow to the kisser. The ice pack had long since gone warm on him and the hunter rolled from the infirmary bed he had been lying on to fetch another for his aching jaw.
He shuffled through the darken infirmary and rifled through the fridge for another pack. Once in hand, Dean put it to his face with a soft moan of relief and ambled over to the medicine cabinet for another dose of ibuprofen.
The clock read that it was a little pass three in the morning. Dean scowled at it and returned across the ward to where there were several other occupied beds. Monitors beeping and running had filled the silence of the night. Jack Harkness slept with an IV draining into his arm. Martha refused to leave the infirmary but was riding on enough painkillers that she sleep pretty soundly against the pain of her broken ribs and the noise. And the last bed, closest to the one he had been lingering in, was Julian.
His color had improved and his monitors showed signs of stability. The morphine drip was strong enough to hopefully let him sleep pain free, now that the sedative had worn off. The hunter stopped for a second to fix a blanket over the other man's chest before turning back to his bed and preparing to climb back into it with his journal, when he heard a soft moan.
Dean frozen, taking the pack away from his cheek and scanned the room before turning and looking back at the doctor. Yes. That noise had definitely come from him.