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They’re in pain.
It’s something they’ve grown used to- being chronically ill is painful. They are in bed, and they are in pain. They are putting on their clothes, and they are in pain. They are going to work, and they are in pain. They are eating dinner, and they are in pain. Their body doesn’t care if they already know something is wrong; it’s only doing what it is supposed to.
Still, it’s hard not to begrudge their own body for the intense suffering at times like this. Their entire body feels like a neon sign screaming “WARNING: DANGER” at them, and they’ve spent most of the day in bed because moving feels like they’ve been dragged over hot coals. Sam is supposed to come over tonight, but they might have to cancel it in spite of how much they’ve been looking forward to it if their flare-up continues.
They shift, dragging themselves upright with a small wince.
They haven’t managed to eat much today, and they pick up their half full glass of water to drink the rest of it before standing and grabbing their cane with their other hand. They don’t need to use it most of the time, but it’s helpful at times, especially when their body aches so severely like today.
The werewolf walks slowly into their messy kitchen and fills up their glass with water again, startling at a knock to their door. Sam isn’t scheduled to come over to their place until half an hour from now, but maybe he’s early.
Their bones ache in protest as they walk to check who it is, leaning heavily on their cane for support.
Sam is early. Normally they’d be thrilled, but their flare-up is sapping most of their energy at the moment and they can barely muster a smile when they see his face. They appreciate him, his warmth and southern charm that initially drew them to him, but they aren’t sure about how good their company is during their flare-ups.
They aren’t exactly going to turn him away at their doorstep though, so they quietly unlock their door and slide it open. He has a smile on his face that’s softened by his fondness for them, and surprisingly it hadn’t wavered at the sight of their cane, though he didn’t seem to know what to make of it.
“Hey there, darlin,” he greets, pulling them against him in a hug.
“Hey, Sam,” they muster a little smile, but evidently it isn’t enough to fool the vampire. He frowns, cupping their cheek in his palm “you okay, darlin? You look kinda…”
They laugh a little at his polite way of trailing off. “Like shit?” they offer lightly, leaning into his arm around their waist. He smiles a little “yeah, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
They hum a little “nah, I feel like shit too. I'm having a bad flare-up today.”
Sam strokes through their hair, clearly frowning in concern. “It’s fine, Sam, I’m okay- promise.” He sighs softly, kissing them like he could convey his emotions through it. It makes them melt into him, one hand sliding up to cup the back of his neck.
“Darlin, you’re not okay right now. And that’s okay,” he promises, holding them in place to rest their foreheads against each other. The words are unexpectedly reassuring, and cause them to smile a little bit.
“Sweet talker,” they accuse without any real heat.
He hums, but steps back and locks their door behind him. He looks good- all dressed up in a way they don’t get to see him especially often. Neither of them are partial to dressing up, so it’s an unexpected pleasure to see him in a half buttoned shirt and slacks instead of his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans.
“What do you need right now, darlin? How can I help?”
He’s as earnest as he always is, and it makes their insides mush. They’re not used to people offering to help without a hint of annoyance or condescension, and it’s a welcome change of pace to watch his dark eyes stare at them full of a genuine desire just to make things easier.
“You don’t need to, Sam, I’m fine,” they insist, though it’s easy for him to see through them.
“Darlin,” he sighs softly “let me help you, please?”
They pause, thinking it over but already knowing they’re going to give in. When they have flare-ups like this, all they want is for someone to hold them and watch things with them on Netflix, honestly. Sometimes to make them soup or grab their ice packs from the freezer too, but mostly just to be there for them.
“Alright,” they nod slightly and lean up to kiss him. It’s sweet, tasting like his chapstick, and his lips are soft against theirs in a way that makes them smile. This close, they can smell his cologne, the smell of pine needles and bourbon mixed with something slightly musky, and it’s incredibly comforting. He always smells good, though they’re unsure of how he manages it.
“Thank you, darlin. What kinda things do you need right now?” he drawls, southern accent curling sweetly in his words.
They sigh softly, leaning heavily against their cane. “Honestly, there’s not a whole lot you can do for me, Sam. You could grab my ice packs from the freezer for my legs, but mostly all I want right now is company,” the werewolf admits with a soft frown.
Sam hums “You wanna walk on your own, I’m assumin? Probably feels mighty condescending when people offer to carry you around.”
They laugh, reassured. Things with Sam have been unconventional, sure, but always easy in their own way. It makes sense that this would feel easy with him too. “I don’t mind it if it’s you, but usually yeah. It’s annoying that people assume I’m incapable of asking for help.”
A smile crinkles around his dark eyes, and he nods slightly in understanding. His little smile turns a bit mischievous “well, in that case,” he drawls with a certified grin before easily picking them up in his arms and holding them close to his chest with ease.
It makes them freeze up a bit, then lean into his grip with a slight, fond smile. They’re grateful he asked before picking them up, and it makes it considerably easier to relax and let him care for them. He’s warm through the thin dress shirt, and it bleeds through their shirt in a way that makes their cheeks heat from the unexpected intimacy.
“Thank you, Sam,” they say, quiet.
He just smiles a little and carries them into their apartment again, footfalls soft against the flooring while he walks through it into their bedroom. He sets them down on the edge of their bed and bends down to kiss them, and momentarily the fire raging inside of their body is easier to ignore.
The pain doesn’t go away, exactly, but it fades in light of their focus on him.
He sighs when they part, sweet like always. His hand cups their cheek while he kisses them again, shorter this time as if he means to pull away but can’t make himself.
Gently, they shove him by the shoulder when he lingers too long. “Go on, Sam. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll still be here when you get back,” they remind him, playfulness dancing in their eyes alongside the obvious tension in their face from pain.
He snorts in derision, playful “somehow, that makes me think you’re planning to jump out your window to go do somethin dangerous,” Sam replies, earning a small smile as he turns away to go fetch their ice packs from the freezer.
By the time he comes back they’ve settled under the covers with their back against as many pillows as they can manage. The pain aches deep into their bones and if they’re being honest, it makes them want to fucking hit something in anger. They’re strong , their body just doesn’t seem to realize it for some stupid reason.
Sam returns with a light kiss to their hair, as if he senses how volatile they feel because of their pain right now, and hands over the ice packs. Positioning them takes a bit of fiddling, but after a few long moments of awkward wiggling and nudging the ice packs have been placed in the best places possible to ease their pain at the moment.
It doesn’t fix things, but it eases some of the suffering, knowing that Sam is there to keep them company instead of being stuck doing nothing because of the pain ravaging them during their flare-up.
“Darlin, do you want me to join you or…? It’s okay if you want some space, I know you’re hurtin and might not want me ‘round right now,” he says carefully. He’s asking just in case they changed their mind which they appreciate, but really isn’t necessary.
“I always want you around, cowboy,” they grin, reaching out to tug him down into a kiss by the front of his shirt. He goes willingly, expression softened with affection for them in a way that makes their stomach twist in knots. The kiss is sweet and more chaste than usual, soft lips moving against their without any hint of a desire for anything more.
He’s not ready for more, and honestly, neither are they. What they’re doing right now is good- great even. It feels good to take things slow together and know him inside and out before doing anything else.
Sam pulls back with a breathy exhale, and carefully settles under the sheets with them after pulling his boots off. “Y’want to cuddle or is it easier not to move right now? I could read to you or we can watch a show if you want,” he offers.
In answer they scoot closer and slide an arm around his midsection to keep him close, breathing in the scent of pine on his shirt. He’s a good cuddle partner, just soft enough to rest their cheek on his shoulder or head on his chest, and his arms feel impossibly safe around them. It distracts from the mind-numbing boredom that strikes them anytime their flare-ups keep them in bed, and makes them smile against his shoulder.
“Cuddling is good, if you don’t mind being trapped here if I fall asleep,” they admit.
He strokes down their spine and leans his cheek against their hair, making their stomach twist. It’s sweet and incredibly reassuring in a way they haven’t felt in a while- it feels stupid to call David or any of the pack for company during flare-ups even now that they’re back interacting with the pack again. It feels like an admission of weakness, even though rationally they know that it isn’t.
“No, darlin,” he murmurs, low and soft “I don’t mind you sleepin on my chest if it helps. I’m here when you need me, you know that.”
They hum, curling some of the fabric from his shirt in their fist. Rationally they know he cares, he’s healed their wounds, helped them with Quinn, stared down David for them, for fuck’s sake, but hearing it is different. Hearing it makes them feel warm all over and intensely grateful that they’ve met him.
“I’m a stubborn mess, Sam,” they murmur, squeezing him around the midsection in silent thanks.
He laughs, low and throaty with amusement. “Don’t I know it, darlin. I wouldn’t have you any other way,” Sam promises, as if that doesn’t make them feel dizzy with the desire to hold him and never let go.
They’re honestly starting to believe him that he wouldn’t have them any way other than they are, either. He didn’t flinch from their stubbornness, or their struggle taking care of themselves, or their cane in their hand at the front door. He’s made no efforts to change them apart from quietly caring for them, filling in space in their life they didn’t even know were there until Sam filled them with his steadfast presence.
“Thank you, Sam. For staying tonight.”
It’s about more than that- about his unquestioning desire to help them with Quinn, his soft way of handling them, the way his kisses make their lips tingle, about the easy way he accepts them as they are, but they don’t know how to articulate that. He seems to understand though, judging by the incredibly soft way he looks down at them and leans down while they lean up to meet in a lazy, unhurried kiss.
He pulls back after a long moment to press his forehead against theirs, one hand cupped at the nape of their neck “I’m not goin anywhere, darlin,” he promises.
They finally are starting to believe it.