so if you're lonely/ you know i'm here waiting for you
“What was it like?” Sam was watching him intently; John could see the whites of his eyes flickering in the dark.
They’d stalled; run out of the fuel in the middle of the highway in the desert, and there was nothing they could do about it, except wait for Number Six to get back with the fuel. Earlier on in the day it had been copper-bright sunlight and blazing heat, the dryness of his tongue painful in his throat, and even when he closed his eyes, the relentless red of the sandy silence remained painted on the insides of his eyelids. Now it was dark and cold, bone-achingly so, and John was numb and bored. And sick of the waiting, sick of the wind and the starkness and inertia of it all when he could sense the fifth, so close, an urgent pulse of light in the back of his mind.
“What?” He muttered unwillingly, forcing the words past chapped lips.
“Fighting - them.”
“I don’t...” The iron-sharp taste of blood filling his mouth, the sinking nausea of fear; panic, like a beast gone wild in his head, leaving a blank grey void in his wake - no more back-handed replies, insults, no back-up plans, nothing, only the terrible, burning knowledge that it was they who’d killed Henri.
John laughed, sharp and humourless, “Like shit.”
Something icy brushed against his fingers and he started violently, adrenaline spiking.
“Sorry. It’s me - I just - “ Sam pulled back as fast as he’d reached forward, biting his lip nervously. Wanted to tell you it’s okay, he thought, but this was no time and no place to be saying it.
“... Oh.” John exhaled, and just like that, the tension ebbed out of him and was gone.
“You don’t have to - to be like that.” Sam tried again. His voice sounded uncomfortably loud in the quiet,”I mean. Be alone. It’s not your fault Henri died. I know - it must tear you up. I was like that too. If I’d -I’d -“
His voice broke, and he swiped angrily at his eyes, “Maybe, if I’d just tried to talk to my dad, he wouldn’t - he’d have done something different. He’d still be -“
His shoulders shook, and Sam hated his weakness.
“C’mere.” John sighed and tugged, and suddenly, Sam’s face was wedged into the crook of his neck, “Damn, you’re freezing.”
He coughed, embarrassed, but John showed no sign of letting go, so he gave in, melting into the heat.
“I don’t know what’s gonna happen next, Goode, but we’re all sticking together. No matter what.” For a moment, Sam could’ve sworn that John almost sounded affectionate.
Then he was all business again, “Now shut up and go to sleep, we’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”
Grinning, Sam slept.