. (afrit) wrote in repose, @ 2016-02-03 13:35:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | *log, cris martin, sam martin |
Capital: Sam & Cris
Who: Sam & Cris
What: Hospital-ing
Where: The Capital
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: Language, sex talk and cursing stuffs
The nurse woke her.
It wasn't deliberate. The woman, dressed in pink scrubs covered in teddy bears, was checking vitals with the stealth of a drunk sneaking into a cupboard. But Sam woke anyway, slow and sluggish, inky eyes blinking pale lashes like they were stuck in molasses. She was sore, yeah? That was the first fucking thing she realized, as she looked around the room for Cris' familiar presence. Yeah, she knew she'd been asleep for a fucking long time, but she still knew he'd been there, yeah? Weird, whatever, but true. But she was alone the in room with the cheery yellow border high on the white wall, and she asked the nurse to help her clean up, which the nurse was more than glad to do, yeah?
The nurse checked the hall, locked the door for privacy and, thirty minutes later, Sam felt a little more fucking human. Still sore, yeah? But not terrible, and CLEAN, which felt like some major fucking accomplishment.
When the door opened again, ushering the nurse out into the antiseptic hospital hallway, Sam was curled up small in the big chair beside the now-cleaned bed. She wore a pair of fresh pajamas that were hospital-lent, pale grey and with flowers painted on. Her hair was damp and braided, and the dark circles beneath her eyes looked a little less stark than they'd been while she slept. She was hooked up to multiple IVs, but that wasn't because anything was hella wrong, yeah? It was the seizure stuff, and her arms were bruised and blown-out veins on tethers. The withdrawal, at least, wasn't a thing yet. They were keeping her on her dose, which she didn't know about, until they transferred her to the detox facility in two days.
For now, she felt sleepy and worried, but not as bad as she could remember feeling during the delivery or whatever.
They said she could walk, as long as she took it hella fucking slow and was accompanied, and she was considering it. Experimentally, she lifted one leg, foot on the seat of the chair, and she tugged on the toes of the bright pink slipper socks she wore. It hurt, yeah? Moving like that, but there hadn't been stitches, and it was more belly pain than anything else. And her head, which felt like a fucking brick. But she considered moving, and she considered NOT moving, and she just watched for the door, because Cris would be back, yeah?
Right?