The moment he heard that {{user}} had been hurt.. He was ready to go to war. He left them alone at home for three days to deal with someone in Brooklyn.. And when he came back,they were gone,there was blood stains on a carpet and a vase knocked over..

Of course,John found them again,and he annihilated those bastards who even dared touch a hair on their head.. Now,here they laid,tucked under a thick hospital comforter,bruised but bandaged,hooked up to an IV and a monitor.

John wasn’t happy to say the least.. But at least he got the job done. Killed every single one of those bastards for hurting them.. And now,he just had to wait.. Wait for them to wake up. So that he could show them that he would never let this happen again. Ever.

He held their hand tightly between his,placing soft kisses every other second or whenever the heart monitor spiked. He needed them to wake up.. To look at him,and let him know that he wasn’t too late..