You Wanna Go To Vegas? (Luke Castellan x Oc)

March 24th, 2004

Luke was startled awake, unsure of what exactly he was seeing. His hand instinctively reached up to his injured eye, fingers meeting a fresh pad of gauze. He was shaking, and his torso burned. When he looked down he was practically a mummy, wrapped in bandages from head to toe.

At his side was the one person he wanted to see, arms crossed on the side of his cot and head resting on them, fast asleep. Luke looked at her red-tipped fingers, resisting the urge to not wake her up. Memories flooded his head of when he first arrived at camp- she had fixed him up back then too.

He laid back down in his infirmary bed, taking in everything. Ladon, the golden apple, the one claw he was able to obtain before the beast slashed at his body-

Luke felt sick. Extremely sick. Those scars, they'd always remind himself of his failure. He was a disappointment, a pity. And then those feelings only turned into hate for Hermes in sending him on a quest someone else had done. It was painful to move his arms up in order to pull at his hair, and even more painful to think about his father. He blinked away pear-shaped, hot tears that fell helplessly from his eyes. And the ones falling from the right side of his face stung like hydrogen peroxide, causing him to hiss.

But he couldn't stop and his lashes clumped together. Luke was full-on sobbing, bringing his knees to his chest and ruining his bandages as he bent his body, trying so hard to be quiet.

Someone grabbed his hands, rubbing small circles and tracing letters into his palm. "Lu, it's okay," Bri said calmly, albeit tired, a glossy sheen filling her eyes. "Honey please don't cry, " she whispered, standing up at the edge of his bed.

"I hate him," Luke said hoarsely, voice cracking. "I wasn't good enough to slay a stupid dragon, I wasn't good enough."

"You're more than enough, and it's not your fault Luke, do you hear me? We're all extremely proud of you and if Hermes isn't then he can-"

"Just look at me, I should be dead," he interrupted. Even just the thought of being dead, wanting to be, it went unsaid. And the pain flashed in her eyes as she looked down, away from him, and Luke felt guilty for a second.

"But you're not. And I don't know what I'd do if you were," Bri protested, grabbing a bottle of nectar. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing his forehead, and then she grabbed a spoon.

He hiccuped, watching with blurry eyes as she poured the bottle onto the spoon, raising it to his lips. Luke took it gratefully, focusing on the taste of chocolate chip cookies and strawberries tarts.

His girlfriend grabbed her chair, dragging it closer to his bedside. Gentle hands combed through his hair and Luke closed his eyes, letting himself melt into her touch.

Her fingers moved to the gauze around his eye. "Are you okay, with me removing this?"

Luke nodded, ignoring the pain of the bandage as it was slowly separated from his skin, the tape coming off with a dull pressure. Once it was off he blinked his eyes, closing them in turns. He caught his reflection in a bottle, getting a good look at the open wound across his face. Cutting from his eyebrow and through the edge of his blue eyes down to his chin was a stitched together jagged line.

"How bad, is the rest?" He asked. Bri would tell him the truth, he knew she would, and his voice wavered in anticipation.

She hesitated. "There are a couple of deep ones," she started. "Your arms are okay, it's mainly your chest.. those are the worst of it. About two across your legs-" he shifted, looking at the bandages across himself as he noticed her blush.

Luke laughed softly with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing you haven't seen before," he commented and he watched the debate of whether or not to hit him go through her mind.

"Actually Mr. D did those ones," she teased, grabbing more supplies from the shelving unit behind her.

"You're lying, tell me you're lying," Luke begged, shuddering at the idea.

"Maybe, maybe not."

The rest of his dressing came off, quickly and as painlessly as possible due to his girlfriend's steady hands. Each cut matched the one on his face, and his heart sunk. Bri had prepared him and he had felt Ladon's claws... but he was still shocked to see the marred skin. Bruised and dead and he had to look away.

"You'd make a great nurse for one of those history movies Chiron always makes us watch," he muttered.

"Maybe I will hit you," Bri warned. They both knew she wouldn't, but the threat didn't go unnoticed.

"Aw come on, I could get one of those really crappy pictures of this beautiful girl and stick them in my helmet-" he paused to hiss as she started to clean his cuts again. "Gods woman, warn me next time. So then I get hurt in battle. The special treatment you get me? So when I'm being babied by the nurse everyone wants to b-" Luke whined again, shutting his eyes in pain.

"I swear you're doing this on purpose," he seethed through clenched teeth.

"I'm just tryna take care of you and you're giving me your war film sexual fantasies honey," she defended. Finally, she capped the dreaded bottle, unwrapping a large amount of gauze. "Save it for later?"

The son of Hermes nodded in compromise. The infirmary was silent for a bit and he looked back down at his cuts. He felt overwhelmed again, a failure, and slowly the emotions built up again.

Luke focused on slowing his rapid breathing, and when Bri came in close to place a cold towel on his neck he reached his arms out and grabbed her, pulling her close to his chest in a tight hold.

The tears came again, shoulders shaking with grief and Bri held him tighter.

"Nothing's going to hurt you love, you're safe."