Try as he might, Wash couldn't stop shaking. He could usually see the breakdowns coming - he could usually see the signs, feel the memories bearing down on him, give himself time to shore up his walls and prepare. It had been a long time since the last time he'd been triggered out of nowhere and it had happened in a place he'd just started to call a home with people he trusted and he hadn't seen it coming and he could not stop shaking.
He was expecting Bones to fight back, to yell, because these things happened and he needed to get over it and keep moving like he always did-
But he wasn't fighting back. He was...he was explaining himself. And apologizing. And waiting for Wash to react, treating him like he was a scared animal liable to take Bones' head off-
Because that was exactly what he was acting like.
His grip loosened, then dropped. "Warn me next time," he managed, inwardly wincing at the waver that wouldn't leave his voice. He wasn't okay - not right now. He needed time time alone - he needed to regroup, to sort through his thoughts and lock away the ones that weren't his. Normally, he'd be in his armor; normally he'd just shut off most of the helmet feeds and the radio and take some time to himself in the temporary darkness and quiet. But he wasn't in his armor, and he didn't have the strength in him to get up off the sofa, let alone get to his room.
He reached behind him, fumbled for a few moments, and yanked the blanket off the back of the sofa, pulling it over him and curling up under it. It was stupid and juvenile and he'd already been fucked over two separate times today and it wasn't even eight in the morning and he needed this.
He took slow breaths - in for five, out for ten - and listened in the space between them, slowly reorienting himself. The padded room was years ago. He was in control. He was okay. He could do this.
And breakfast sounded really fucking good right then. "Bacon," came his muffled input from under the blanket. At least his voice didn't shake too badly on that one.
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He was expecting Bones to fight back, to yell, because these things happened and he needed to get over it and keep moving like he always did-
But he wasn't fighting back. He was...he was explaining himself. And apologizing. And waiting for Wash to react, treating him like he was a scared animal liable to take Bones' head off-
Because that was exactly what he was acting like.
His grip loosened, then dropped. "Warn me next time," he managed, inwardly wincing at the waver that wouldn't leave his voice. He wasn't okay - not right now. He needed time time alone - he needed to regroup, to sort through his thoughts and lock away the ones that weren't his. Normally, he'd be in his armor; normally he'd just shut off most of the helmet feeds and the radio and take some time to himself in the temporary darkness and quiet. But he wasn't in his armor, and he didn't have the strength in him to get up off the sofa, let alone get to his room.
He reached behind him, fumbled for a few moments, and yanked the blanket off the back of the sofa, pulling it over him and curling up under it. It was stupid and juvenile and he'd already been fucked over two separate times today and it wasn't even eight in the morning and he needed this.
He took slow breaths - in for five, out for ten - and listened in the space between them, slowly reorienting himself. The padded room was years ago. He was in control. He was okay. He could do this.
And breakfast sounded really fucking good right then. "Bacon," came his muffled input from under the blanket. At least his voice didn't shake too badly on that one.