I am breathing. [It is a final spark of panic, a real note of anger alongside the panic.] I wouldn't be speaking if I wasn't --
[His head drops back down from the inch or so he managed to lift it. It is not so much that he feels the magic that Sam's hand is spreading through him... it's that he knows this isn't how he should feel. He has seen a lot of terrible things. He has been in horrible danger. He knows exactly how he feels when something is terribly wrong -- and all the stickyness across his body, the pain, the stink of blood. He can remember it in a distant way: he is hurt. He is hurt very badly, and he should be freaking the fuck out right now.
He looks at Sam, staring him in the face, as the beat of his heart slows. The clench of his muscles that he can still control relax. Even the hold of his jaw softens. He inhales, counts to three, and lets it go. And he can now. He can hold his breath, because they are no longer shallow gasps. Even though it hurts to breathe.
He knows Sam is doing something to him, but in this moment... it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter not because he feels his panic evaporate, or because it is magic. It's Sam. Sam who offered his home in a place where they had no memories.
All he can do is lean into the hand on his cheek.] I'm breathing. For you.
no subject
[His head drops back down from the inch or so he managed to lift it. It is not so much that he feels the magic that Sam's hand is spreading through him... it's that he knows this isn't how he should feel. He has seen a lot of terrible things. He has been in horrible danger. He knows exactly how he feels when something is terribly wrong -- and all the stickyness across his body, the pain, the stink of blood. He can remember it in a distant way: he is hurt. He is hurt very badly, and he should be freaking the fuck out right now.
He looks at Sam, staring him in the face, as the beat of his heart slows. The clench of his muscles that he can still control relax. Even the hold of his jaw softens. He inhales, counts to three, and lets it go. And he can now. He can hold his breath, because they are no longer shallow gasps. Even though it hurts to breathe.
He knows Sam is doing something to him, but in this moment... it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter not because he feels his panic evaporate, or because it is magic. It's Sam. Sam who offered his home in a place where they had no memories.
All he can do is lean into the hand on his cheek.] I'm breathing. For you.