“What is going on? Jeffrey, speak,” Jensen barks out, running into the tent. He sees the Wódz laid out on their furs, regal body unmoving, and gasps as he rushes to his side.
“He collapsed, my Prince. Daniel tells me that he has been feeling a bit weary, but no one noticed anything,” Jeffrey informs him, rubbing his dusty beard wearily.
Jensen breaths in sharply, and puts his hands on the sides of Jared’s face. His skin is flushed and warm, but he is breathing, and Jensen thanks the Gods for that small pittance.
“I have brought the healer, my Prince,” Danneel’s voice breaks into the short silence. Behind her stands the tribe medicine man, Misha.
“Oblubieniec,” Misha says obediently, tipping his head with respect to Jensen.
“Chodź tu!” Jensen replies impatiently, beckoning the man into the room. Misha comes quickly to the Wódz’s opposite side, and Jensen is thankful that there is no attempt to displace him. There is nowhere in the world that he could be at this moment rather than with his hands upon his husband’s flesh.
“Jensen,” Jeffrey says, his voice soft and full of concern. He places one rough, heavy hand on the curve of Jensen’s shoulder. “He will be fine, I promise you that.”
Jensen finds himself clutching Jeffrey’s hand with one of his own, the other still bracing against Jared’s forearm. “I have lost so much, Jeffrey. I cannot lose him as well.”
Misha glances up at Jensen’s words and smiles reassuringly. Jensen remembers that the healer has a fair grasp of their native tongue, and in this time of crisis, Jensen is grateful for that.
“It is just a fever, Oblubieniec. The Wódz will be better than new very soon,” Misha tells him, pulling out medicinal herbs to help treat Jared.
Jensen lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Jeffrey squeezes his shoulder once more, before stepping back and silently departing with Danneel. Misha works quietly for a few more minutes and then leaves with a nod.
“My Jared,” Jensen whispers, stroking a hand down his husband’s cheek. Not wanting to spend another moment without their heartbeats being one, Jensen lies down and curls his body against Jared’s. Jared is solid and true, and Jensen holds his still body close to his own, his face pressed to the fiery skin of Jared’s neck.
“Never leave me, my love,” Jensen commands. He presses kisses to Jared's flesh like a promise. “And I shall never leave you. I swear it.”
no subject
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“What is going on? Jeffrey, speak,” Jensen barks out, running into the tent. He sees the Wódz laid out on their furs, regal body unmoving, and gasps as he rushes to his side.
“He collapsed, my Prince. Daniel tells me that he has been feeling a bit weary, but no one noticed anything,” Jeffrey informs him, rubbing his dusty beard wearily.
Jensen breaths in sharply, and puts his hands on the sides of Jared’s face. His skin is flushed and warm, but he is breathing, and Jensen thanks the Gods for that small pittance.
“I have brought the healer, my Prince,” Danneel’s voice breaks into the short silence. Behind her stands the tribe medicine man, Misha.
“Oblubieniec,” Misha says obediently, tipping his head with respect to Jensen.
“Chodź tu!” Jensen replies impatiently, beckoning the man into the room. Misha comes quickly to the Wódz’s opposite side, and Jensen is thankful that there is no attempt to displace him. There is nowhere in the world that he could be at this moment rather than with his hands upon his husband’s flesh.
“Jensen,” Jeffrey says, his voice soft and full of concern. He places one rough, heavy hand on the curve of Jensen’s shoulder. “He will be fine, I promise you that.”
Jensen finds himself clutching Jeffrey’s hand with one of his own, the other still bracing against Jared’s forearm. “I have lost so much, Jeffrey. I cannot lose him as well.”
Misha glances up at Jensen’s words and smiles reassuringly. Jensen remembers that the healer has a fair grasp of their native tongue, and in this time of crisis, Jensen is grateful for that.
“It is just a fever, Oblubieniec. The Wódz will be better than new very soon,” Misha tells him, pulling out medicinal herbs to help treat Jared.
Jensen lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Jeffrey squeezes his shoulder once more, before stepping back and silently departing with Danneel. Misha works quietly for a few more minutes and then leaves with a nod.
“My Jared,” Jensen whispers, stroking a hand down his husband’s cheek. Not wanting to spend another moment without their heartbeats being one, Jensen lies down and curls his body against Jared’s. Jared is solid and true, and Jensen holds his still body close to his own, his face pressed to the fiery skin of Jared’s neck.
“Never leave me, my love,” Jensen commands. He presses kisses to Jared's flesh like a promise. “And I shall never leave you. I swear it.”