No Promises - John Stoker, Robin, Maira Lawson

“If you scare me like that again, Stoker, I’m gonna shoot you myself,” Maira says, shaking her head.
“They’re gonna have to be tougher than that to take out John Stoker,” John chuckles weakly, grimacing when his ribs ache.
He feels like one single bruise, whoever dropped that coffin in the hole was not gentle. Not surprising, given he was knocked out with something that left a goose egg on the back of his head. But all the scans came back clear, so he’s just being kept for observation for the day.
And so is Robin.
The kid had passed out after his nose started bleeding, and had been in and out of consciousness the whole ride back to Chimera. He’d looked almost as grey and drained as he had when he was a vampire’s personal juice box, and John never wanted to see that again.
Especially not when he’s the reason for it. He knows this time it was magical exhaustion, that Robin used every bit of his power to get John out in time.
John glances over to the bed beside him, where Robin is asleep, an IV of glucose running into his hand to try and replenish some of the energy he’s lost. Every potted desk plant from the whole office has been arranged on his tray table or the little side cabinet, and the two big peace lilies are set on the floor too. It’s the best they can do for him without taking him outside or bringing live animals into the infirmary, which is a no-fly suggestion for all the medical professionals. They love Robin, but they do have their limits, at least in non-fatal situations. And this is just exhaustion.
Still, John wants nothing more than to see the kid back to his usual energetic self.
It takes two more hours for Robin to stir and blink awake, glancing around nervously until he sees John.
“You’re okay?” He asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Thanks to you, yeah.” John sighs. “You shouldn’t be in here with me kid.”
“It was…worth it,” Robin manages. He shrugs slightly. “I’ll heal. I’ve had worse.”
John doesn’t even want to think about what worse would look like. The sight of Robin, his nose dripping blood, slowly keeling over into John’s arms, is going to haunt his nightmares for a very long time.
Robin swings his legs over the side of the bed.
“Whoa, whoa, hey, where do you think you’re going?” John asks. Robin doesn’t answer, just stands up and grabs the IV pole, taking a couple halting steps until he can sit on the edge of John’s bed, his too-thin legs showing beneath the hospital gown and his grey-sock-clad feet swinging an inch or so above the floor.
They’re going to get in trouble with the doctors for having two people on the bed, but John doesn’t really care. Really, no one around here follows the rules about equipment capacities, and pretty much all the beds are reinforced to take the weight of more than one occupant, given that hunter teams tend to cluster when one member is injured.
“I’ve lost too many people already. I can’t lose you too.” Robin leans his head on John’s shoulder. “I can’t.”
John doesn’t know how to reply to that. He just reaches up with the hand that isn’t connected to tubes and wires and runs a hand slowly through Robin’s hair.
“I’m gonna do my best to stick around, kiddo. Okay?”
He can’t promise anything more than that. It wouldn’t be fair. He knows how the fae feel about a promise that can’t be kept. All he can do is promise to try. And given the way the tension bleeds out of Robin’s body, it looks like that is enough.