Castiel stared at the tub of steaming water, bubbles frothing. They were passing an exhausted night post-Hunt in the hotel owned by a lady for whom they had just cleared out a nasty ghost infestation. A few demons too. Castiel had seen the particular tension with which Dean carried his shoulders as he drove to the place, the set of his jaw signaling something on his body was hurting him, but he wasn't about to admit it.

If not for the sweet old lady, he doubted Dean would have consented to stopping for the night . But he had, and while Castiel still wasn't sure about a lot when it came to humans and their fragile bodies, he could see tension. He knew Dean liked long hot showers post-Hunt, or after a long drive, or after...

He felt his the skin under this shirt collar grow heated as he considered what his mind had been about to end that sentence with. As if summoned by his less than holy thoughts, Dean appeared in the bathroom, naked but for boxer shorts as he was too stubborn to turn on the AC until it became truly intolerable. Dean's eyes grew wide at the sight of the hot water.

"That's a jacuzzi tub." he stated.

Castiel blinked. "I...is that different from bathtubs?" In his and the Winchester's lives, they were lucky to see a clean shower, much less a bathtub, so it was hardly a stretch to imagine Castiel wouldn't be familiar with bathtub distinctions.

"I just know you're stiff and sore and...hot showers always help. This isn't a shower but it's still hot and I thought-" he was cut off by a splash, and Dean's boxers in the doorway.

The look on Dean's face as he slid into the hot water was worth any and all confusion, as was the smile he directed at Castiel.

"You did this for me, huh?"

Castiel nodded.

"Why don't you get in here yourself and I'll see if I can do something for you?"

Edited at 2016-08-01 07:20 pm (UTC)

Usagi sighs for the umpteeth time that night, Makoto had lost count after the hundredth time. They were supposed to be studying for their upcoming exam. Usagi had been whining and asking questions about the material all night, but the last hour has been eerily quiet.

“Usagi, if you don’t want to study anymore all you have to do is say so. You don’t have to sigh and sigh until you’ve gotten my attention,” Makoto looks up from her book, frowning at the blonde.

Usagi had long since moved from the table to the window, her knees drawn up to her chest with her chin resting on her arms.

“It’s not that,” Usagi answers, blue eyes focused on the night sky. “Mako, do you ever miss home?”

“Usa, you’re not that far from home.”

The blonde shakes her head, “Not here. You know,” She points out the window. Makoto abandons her books with a sigh and walks up to the other girl. A full moon beams down at them.

“The Silver Millennium,” Makoto whispers.

Usagi nods, not once looking away from the moon. “I miss it, sometimes. It was so beautiful. The castle. The pillars with the fountains. Mother. I will never forget the amazing view of Earth from the courtyard.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Makoto lips, “You always did have the best view of Earth.” She sat down besides her friend, her arm wrapping around Usagi’s shoulder. “Do you remember all those times Ami would chase after you to make sure you didn’t skip on your study lessons? Or Rei hounding you about meditating and practicing the proper etiquette of a princess?”

Usagi laughs, “Rei hated me so much when I didn’t practice enough. I never got into much trouble though did I?”

“No, Queen Serenity let you get away with a lot of stuff. She never punished you much for all the times you snuck out to see Endymion.”

Usagi leans into Makoto’s embrace and sighs sadly, “I want to go home, Mako.”

Makoto gave her princess a sad smile, “I know, Princess. I know. Sometimes I do too.”

Alec didn't say anything when he walked in. He just shed his jacket and took his boots off, placing his bow and quiver on a hook near the door. Magnus looked up from the potion he was brewing and frowned as Alec trudged towards the bedroom.

Magnus turned back to his potion, stirring it a few times before following Alec into the bedroom. Alec was lying on the bed in just a pair of pajama pants and turned away from the door, one of Magnus' pillows clutched to his chest.

Magnus crawled behind Alec on the bed, wrapping an arm around the shadowhunter's waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Normally, their positions were reversed but something told Magnus that Alec needed this right now.

"Bad day?" Magnus asked softly. Alec nodded, but didn't say anything. Magnus held him a bit tighter. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Alec shook his head. "Can we just stay here for a bit?"


"Of course, Alexander," Magnus replied, snuggling closer and pressing another kiss to Alec's shoulder. "Whatever you need."


One of Alec's hands let go of Magnus's pillow and found Magnus' hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thank you."

"Why don't you cry?" she asked, tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill. Frustration and anger and exhaustion warred on her face, and in her voice. The Doctor looked down at her, could see her jaw tight, tense, her entire body tense as though if by holding it she could keep the tears from spilling.

"Do you think I don't?" he asked, quietly, setting the console on auto for a moment so he could walk around to her side.

Her eyes burned into him, glittering brightly, accusing and trying desperately to hide something. Stubborn, his Impossible Girl, so stubborn. She wouldn't make the move, so he simply enveloped her in his arms, arms rigid just until she decided she wasn't going to step away. Her head fell against tweed as she choked out sobs, as if fighting every single one of them, just as he'd known she needed to. He stood there for her, not fidgeting (a miracle), and doing his best to be solid. For once. For someone. Even she needed to cry sometimes, even if Clara herself would be the last person to ever admit it.

Panic attacks weren't anything new for Steve. Any soldier who spent more than a month on any kind of field learned how to stop them, how to tune them out, and before that they learned how to help each other down.

Tony Stark wasn't a soldier. He had nightmares that any soldier would emphasize with,though. Daymares too, anxiety attacks that Steve thought were made worse because of how utterly unphased he strived so very hard to be. Tony tried to project Frank Sinatra/Dean Martin levels of coolness at all time, flippant mouth and internal armor.

There were moments though, that no one saw, moments when his jaw clenched, and his heart raced. It was the heart racing that scared him more than anything else, making every attack worse. Today they were trying to be normal, or what passed for normal in Stark's world. On a yacht, an honest yacht when Tony leaned over the bar, hands curled around the edge of the marble, tense, sweat suddenly glistening on his forehead.

Steve walked over to him. "Tony? Tony it's okay, it's an attack. I'm going to unclench your hands if let me?" Tony nodded tightly and Steve peeled fingers away with infinate care.

"I'm going to keep my hand on yours, let's go topside" Once topside, Steve began to walk the deck beside Tony, encouraging him to breathe deeply and count his breaths. Tony's breaths began to sync with his steps, then both began to slow as they circled the deck. Steve sent a silent word of thanks that the yacht was honestly huge. He ended up walking for over an hour back and forth next to Tony, periodically reminding him that it would pass, that he was not leaving, that they would do anything he needed, until it passed.

And eventually, it does. When it does, Tony throws it off, makes a joke as he always does, and goes to get a drink, and Steve breathes out a long, long breath that this one's over, thanks his training, and follows him down.

Edited at 2016-08-28 06:13 pm (UTC)

"Let us help" That was Parker, insistently. She and Hardison had ambushed him outside his place, as he attempted to fish keys out of his pocket with fingers that really should have been splinted. Nothing was broken, but sprains were more insidious for it. He'd splint them later, he'd figured, and gone out to get more cloth tape.

"I'm fine" he said, brushing past them, seeing as how Parker had already keyed the door open, probably while they waited.

She shifted her weight, reaching for his injured hand, barely managing to brush his swollen fingers before he jerked it away instinctively hard, and into the lump of his keys in his pocket, which caused an eruption of loud swearing.

"That's what you call fine? Doesn't sound like any fine I've ever heard. Sounds like the very opposite of fine" Hardison said, leaning in the doorway.

He narrowed his eyes at both of them. They weren't going to go away, that much was clear. Not that he really wanted them to, he realized.

"Fine, I'm not fine. But I'm mostly fine. You can come see for yourself."

Parker sailed in with a warm smile, setting herself down on the couch with something like dramatic flair.
"See, the house didn't blow up."

Hardison had barely crossed the threshold when Eliot shoved takeout menus into his chest with his uninjured hand, hard enough to bruise.
"You crashed the party, you can get dinner. No shitty pizza."

He walked towards the bathroom with a smile. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, started to lift his shirt over his head to make sure no bones were poking out, and when he pulled it off completely Parker was standing next to him.

"Don't do that to a guy!" she had actually managed to sneak in on soft thief feet. Her eyes were wide as she took in large bruises, just shading to purple though the angry red.

"Do they hurt?"

He turned his head, staring incredulously. "They're bruises, Parker, no they feel like a shower"

"Hey hey don't get snappy with the lady just because - daayymm boy you black and blue"

"Thank you both for commentary, I know what color bruises are" he said, wondering if letting them in hadn't been such a good idea anyway. Parker was quiet, still staring, a sort of quiet that drew all eyes to her as she reached out and traced one on the shoulder near her.

"I asked if it hurt because you take hits like they're nothing, then go running off to save us afterwards. Sometimes jobs go for days. You're like that Superman Hardison keeps telling me about."

"Hey, for the record I said Batman was-"

The fact that Parker thought of him like a hero was more than enough to make even Eliot smile. And he did. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.