[ he can't help but wish that dean was here. dean would find this all very funny, he's sure. an angel getting drunk off just one bottle of hard liquor. he's been off kilter ever since he arrived with that head injury— he's almost certain the dean he met in the heat was just wishful thinking.
but he wishes he wasn't.
jack's hand is warm where it rests on his back. he tries not to imagine someone else, and sluggishly picks himself up, hair hanging limp in his face. his nose and mouth are bleeding, but on a glance it should be obvious the injuries are superficial. ]
I need...
[ ugh. propped up on his elbows, he he rubs his face at an awkward angle, smearing blood across it. ]
... A win. Just one. Just...
[ just one big win.
he squeezes his eyes shut. if jack tries to help him, he'll let jack pull him upright, but if jack tries to heal him, he won't be so accepting. ]
no subject
but he wishes he wasn't.
jack's hand is warm where it rests on his back. he tries not to imagine someone else, and sluggishly picks himself up, hair hanging limp in his face. his nose and mouth are bleeding, but on a glance it should be obvious the injuries are superficial. ]
I need...
[ ugh. propped up on his elbows, he he rubs his face at an awkward angle, smearing blood across it. ]
... A win. Just one. Just...
[ just one big win.
he squeezes his eyes shut. if jack tries to help him, he'll let jack pull him upright, but if jack tries to heal him, he won't be so accepting. ]