19.

[voluntaryapnea]

[Audio -- Open]

[The comm clicks onto audio and there's a moment of silence before a familiar voice -- albeit more tired than usual -- makes an announcement that it's clear he'd rather not be making. Because he'd rather not be making it.]

Dean's in a coma.

[He pauses, rubs a hand over his eyes tiredly as he looks down at his inmate, unconscious in bed and purses his lips.]

I'll let everyone know when he's awake again unless he does it first.

[He shuts the comm back off and sinks into a chair beside Dean's bed, closing his eyes.]

[Spam -- Open]

[He's exhausted. His body aches. He wants to crawl into bed and sleep for the next week. He won't, of course, because he has things to do. People to check on. But he's in dire need of his Adderall because he's been without it for a month. On the list of things that he'd needed, that they'd all needed on the other barge, Adderall hadn't even made the list. His mind is racing with thoughts and he can't seem to be able to focus on any one thought for another.

He's back on the regular barge, and he needs to find Scott and make sure he's okay. He needs to find Lydia and make sure she's been okay. Allison, Kira, Isaac, Erica, Needy, Bucky, Steve. Hell, even Jackson. He needs to check on all of them and see for himself they're all right. Rest isn't going to happen until he's made the rounds.

But medication first. He makes his way down the steps toward the seventh floor and his room. He can be encountered in any of the stairwells, or the seventh floor corridor.]

[Spam -- Closed to Lydia]

[He slips his key into the door and unlocks it, pushes it open even as he rubs the back of his neck. He freezes instantly, gaze locking on Lydia's form as she sits on the edge of his bed. He lets out a shaky breath and closes the door behind him, letting his hands drop to his sides.]

Hi.

Comments

[Spam]

[semifreakingnormal]

Yeah, I bet. [He matches that small smile, and falls in beside Stiles. When the arm settles around his shoulders, his response is immediate: his arm rises to latch onto Stiles' shoulder in return, holding tight. Whatever else there was, they still have each other. It's a small light in the dark, but Scott holds onto it. He needs to keep the dark at bay right now.

You gotta grab some once we get there.

[Spam]

[voluntaryapnea]

[And that's what Stiles holds onto when things are bad. No matter what they still have each other. And he needs for Scott to hold onto that right now, too.]

See this is why I need you around. To help me stay on track.

[And for a billion and one other reasons.]

[Spam]

[semifreakingnormal]

It's mutual. You make sure I've got an inhaler around.

[And for a billion and one other reasons. He understands why the other Stiles lost it, even if he doesn't want to know if he'd be able to do the things he did. Scott would shut down if he lost Stiles. He'd shut down completely.]

[Spam]

[voluntaryapnea]

[He grins at that, patting Scott's shoulder.]

Damn right.

[And he knows. They both know and that's what matters.]