It'd been a fucking while since Gideon did this shit, but it wasn't too hard to remember how to set it up. Once they got back to the hut, he got to work making two lines from the stuff he grabbed, using the desk since it was the only fucking flat surface in their hut
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When she did finally wake up, it was still dark out, but closer to morning, as far as she could tell. She probably wouldn't have gotten up for a few more hours were it not for the fact that Gideon, beside her, had cried out and was now sweaty and shaking, which was worrisome enough for her to reach over and turn on the light, squinting against its brightness.
"Hey," she murmured, lips curving into a frown as she reached over to gently shake him, hoping it would be enough to wake him up. "Gideon, baby, wake up, it's okay."
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And her saying shit like that made him feel worse instead of better, even if he knew she didn't mean anything by it. He knew it was ridiculous, and at least he could fucking say that, even if it all got to him so badly.
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It only hurt more that she was pretty clearly not doing any good, either. She felt fucking terrible, and this really was the best she could do. She ought to have known that it wouldn't be enough. Sometimes, she thought it never was, never would be.
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"No, I know," he sighed, lifting his hand to cup her chin lightly instead. He didn't want her to fucking be upset. "And I fucking appreciate it. You're doing enough just being here. I mean, shit, with the shit in those fucking things, I'm just glad you're here."
Honestly, he fucking missed the old dreams that just had him fucking getting killed. Seeing her die was more than he could fucking take.
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"Well, I'm not going anywhere," she said, more sad than frustrated, now. "Not unless you want me to." Honestly, by now, she wouldn't have been surprised if he did. Despite what he'd just said, it was pretty fucking obvious that she wasn't doing him -- or either of them -- any good.
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"Of course I want you to fucking stay. Where are you getting that I don't?" he asked. If he was doing something more than being a fucking asshole - which he was trying to change - he wanted to know.
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"Every good thing that's fucking happened to me has been partially because of you. Shit, you're good for me, period. There's a fucking reason the worst part of that shit is whenever it has you getting hurt in it," he said, looking down as he spoke. "So...don't think that shit, okay? Because it's wrong."
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"I wasn't saying in general," she replied eventually, a little tense, though unintentionally so. "Just, you know, now. With this. It's like I'm making things worse instead of better. So I figured maybe I should offer to shut up if you wanted me to."
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"I love you," he murmured. That was all there fucking was to it.
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"I love you, too," she replied, easing a little closer to him, grabbing at his shirt when she slid her arm around him. She wasn't in any state to be fighting, or whatever it was they were doing. Mostly, she just wanted to go back to sleep until she felt better. It was more important, though, to be with him, which was why she had no intention of mentioning how lousy she felt. "And I'm here, okay? For anything you need."
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"I'm...going to try to fucking sleep," he said, lifting his hand up just to brush some hair from her face. He settled it back down a few moments later. "So you should, too, okay?"
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"Guess that means wanting sex is out, then," he joked, voice muffled because he'd ducked his head to rest his face against her should instead. It hid his grin, slight as it was, pretty fucking well.
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