Angelo and Sam, Monday night

[x-cannonball.livejournal.com]

Angelo is out having a cigarette. Sam decides to make a crater on the lawn. Male pride is wrestled with.



Angelo was out on the smokers' porch, having one last cigarette before he headed back inside and to bed. After the events of the last day or two, he'd found himself smoking more than usual, and needing every bit of it. So there he was, sitting in one of the swing chairs giving himself one last fix for the day.

Suddenly, his attention was caught by something in the sky, moving fast... and heading towards the ground on a sharp trajectory. Alarmed, he stood up, and suddenly realized it wasn't a "something" at all. Sam had apparently been out on a night flight - and it looked like something was wrong.

The ground was coming up awfully fast. Sam tried to control his trajectory, but he'd gone right up to the edge of the atmosphere, until there wasn't any more sky. And he'd been up there for hours, way too long. So tired...

Angelo was off the porch and moving,cigarette forgotten in his hand, before Sam hit the ground. He didn't know what he could really do to help, but anything was better than just sitting there watching it happen. He winced as he heard the impact, still ten feet away, and saw Sam's blast field light up the area for some considerable way around.

Crater... Sam thought hazily, managing to lift his head. Made a crater this time... His nose was bleeding, he realized, licking his lips and tasting blood, and as he tried to move, various parts of his body protested loudly. "Ow... crap," he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. Must've lost his blast field in the last second. Lucky you're not dead, jackass...

Angelo raced to the side of the crater, stopping on the edge to look down at Sam and wincing again at the sight of him. "...Sam? You just... don't move, I'll go fetch someone to get you out of there."

"'Sokay," Sam managed, not exactly sure who he was talking to. "Don't think.... anything's broken..." He pushed himself up on his elbows, flinching as blood ran into his eyes.

Angelo flinched too. "Sam! Stop it!"

"No... ah'm fine... don't worry..."

"You are not fine! You're bleedin'! An' you're at the bottom of a crater you made!"

The identity of the person shouting at him suddenly sank in to his rather befuddled mind, and Sam groaned. Of all the people, Angelo? His pride was suddenly hurting almost as bad as he was. "Blast... field, remember?" Sam said, making it to a sitting position. "I'm... okay," he muttered, waving at the blurred shape he knew was Angelo and almost cringing as something popped in his shoulder. "Go on..."

Angelo shook his head stubbornly. "Not 'til I see you out of there an' in the house, if not in the medlab."

"Fine," Sam snarled, using the surge of anger to rise to his feet, ignoring the way he swayed. At least his legs were working. Wiping his eyes, Sam blinked around, then picked what looked like the least-steep wall of his crater and climbed. Pain stabbed into his side with every breath that he took, and once he was back up on the grass he collapsed, wheezing.

Angelo dropped lightly to the grass beside him, not moving, his eyes steely-determined. "Meant what I said. Take as long as you need, but I'm not leavin' you out here alone, when I don't know how bad you're really hurt. I won't insist on you goin' to the medlab if you don't want, but to the house? Yeah."

Sam laughed breathlessly. It hurt, and it wound up not sounding very much like a laugh. "Fuck," he said miserably, laying his head down against the grass and trying to catch his breath. His vision was blurring and sparkling, and he really hoped it was just because he'd hit his head or something.

Angelo grinned wryly. "Paige'd never forgive me if I left you out here t'die, or somethin'", he said, trying to lighten the situation.

Bite the bullet, Guthrie. Don't think you're making it back inside by yourself. "Okay," Sam said weakly, raising his head and wiping at his eyes. "But... no medlab. And not a word to Paige, okay?"

Angelo nodded. "Sure thing", he said, not meaning a word of it and purposely not making it a promise. "Wish you'd let the doctor look at you, but it's your call." He held out an arm to help Sam up.

Sam let Angelo help him up and lead him back towards the house, hating the necessity, hating himself for screwing up like this. Angelo, thankfully, said nothing.