packs aren't always of the same species (a WayHaught au)

not ok

When you woke up again, you half expected to be strapped to another table, a half crazed lunatic looming over you with silver weapons and a crazed look in his - or her , you suppose - eye. When you opened your eyes just enough to check, you found you weren't, thank the gods, but your heart still hammered in your chest at the mere thought. It wasn't until you became aware of the familiar smell of leather, strong coffee, and campfire smoke that you finally calmed down, just enough to realize you weren't in any immediate danger, but still very much in pain, before you drifted off again to the sounds of a quiet motor and the gentle rock of a motor vehicle over uneven ground. You might've also felt a hand in yours, but that could've been your imagination.

The next time you were conscious enough to know half of what was going on, you found yourself sitting on a cool tile floor, your back against a fully clothed, warm body with an arm around your waist, holding you up while a steady stream of water rinsed the blood and filth from your skin and hair. The water was remarkably warm and you relished in it, letting yourself succumb to sleep once again, your head against a damp shoulder. You didn't bother opening your eyes, you were too tired to anyway.

"32 hours. Almost 32 hours , Dolls!"

"I'm aware, Earp."

"You don't think that's a bit too long for her to be out?!"

"Her body and mind are recovering from a serious trauma-"

"Will you two shuddup? Some of us're tryin' t' sleep." Your voice was thick with lingering torpor and weak from lack of use, but you managed to get out what you hoped was an intelligible sentence as you attempted to sit up in the surprisingly comfortable bed (at least you weren't strapped to this one). You didn't get very far, your head immediately swimming and your stomach protesting the movement, before you gave up and fell back against the pillows with a grimace and a groan.

"Haught damn you made it!" You couldn't help but quietly chuckle, despite the pain, as Wynonna stepped forward and went to crush you in what you were sure was about to be a bear hug before she stopped herself and, almost hesitantly, lightly tapped you on the head a few times. You rolled your eyes lightly, not really having the energy to put any real snark behind the action.

"What, you thought I was gonna die? Come on man, gimme some credit." Wynonna only shrugged before stepping out of the way as Dolls took her place in front of you.

"In my defense, you're like super pale-"

"If the next thing that comes outta your mouth is a ginger joke, 'm never talkin' t'you again."

"Whatever, Red Rover ." Wynonna didn't have a problem with rolling her eyes so hard you could practically see them rolling right out of her head and out the door.

To cease further banter, Dolls blocked your line of sight to Wynonna by placing his body in a more direct path at your bedside as he gave you The Look™.

"How's the pain level on a scale of one to ten?" His voice was authoritative, but it was anything but cold.

Straight to business then. Although, it usually was with him.

"Like, a 4...?" A lie. A complete lie. You could feel every mark that man made on you and they all seemed to burn relentlessly, but you thought maybe if you told yourself it was a four then your brain might actually believe it. It wasn't really working.

" Nicole ." He always could call you out on your bullshit.

"Okay, fine, 7," you mumbled. And as if your body needed to prove itself, a wave of sharp pain shot through your entire frame at once, the receptors at your wounds so intense, your eyes actually watered, causing you to wince and grip the light blanket draped over you, gritting your teeth. "Maybe an 8." Or a nine.