What I’m actually thinking about 90% of the time is

The magic trope where character A uses some of their life source to heal character B’s otherwise fatal injury but as a result, B can now sense A’s energy level. When A is tired, the magic fades in proportion - the wound would throb if it was a small tired but grows more intense the more the magic dissipates.

Anyway the particular scene I love goes like:

A and B are separated in battle with A facing the big bad while B handles things on the ground, fighting off minions and evacuating civilians. B is running through the battlefield and they double over in pain as if someone is stabbing them over and over. They’re bleeding heavily, but there’s no one around them. B’s heart drops - the magic, the tether.. is just gone. Screaming A’s name, they stand, gripping their wound and leaning on their sword, and stagger towards the centre of conflict to find them.

Spy fic imagine - ‘You couldn’t be more wrong.. I worship you’

Agent A sags against her chains in her cell. Her hands and feet are bound with cuffs with spikes protruding inwards. Blood is smeared on her arms and ankles, it also drips off her chin from her broken nose.

The basement is dark and dead silent, save for her pained, shaking breaths. Then she hears steps and the cell door rattles.

'A! Are you okay?’ A voice whispers.

A is losing consciousness but at the sound of B’s voice, it’s low rasp, she jerks awake.

'B?’ Her voice cracks hoarsely from the two days without water or food.

She searches for his brown eyes but they’re focused on padlock. Deftly, B picks the lock and enters her cell silently. He doesn’t look at her and instead eyes the locks around her wrists and ankles. Bending down, his hair brushes against her knee as he picks the lock around her ankles. When it springs free he grasps her calves one at a time, just above the wounds where the cuffs have cut her, and guides them out of the chains. His hand is warm against her freezing skin. Her knees are on the verge of buckling.

'Can you stand?’ he asks in a low whisper.

'Yes’ she manages to croak out.

He stands, moving to pick the locks for her wrist cuffs. B looks up at the lock that holds A’s hands above her head. She stares at his chest, his broad shoulders, his neck, his adam’s apple..

'Done’ he says, lock springing free.

A sighs deeply as she lowers her aching arms and bloody wrists. She can’t see how badly they’re torn up but they sting like hell.

'Come on’ B says, walking over to the cell door.

He exits and holds it open for her to step out. She follows B’s lead as he walks quickly out of the basement. Darkness bites the edges of her vision as she moves, limbs burning.

B turns a corner, telling her to wait behind. He’s spotted two men and goes to distract them. She watches and waits for his signal but is suddenly pulled backward. Another man holds her against him, her throat in his elbow.

Instinctually, A manoeuvres out of it. For a brief moment, she feels powerful, kicking the man down. But very quickly the adrenaline fades..

Pain shoots up her limbs and dizziness overwhelms her. B runs back in time to see A kick the man away and immediately collapse onto the ground, eyes closing.

'No, A!’ he shouts.

More gang members rush to them. B runs toward her and loops his arm around her back.

'A, wake up! Come on!’

A stirs enough to move her legs weakly. B runs, half carrying, half pushing A till they are out of the den and in the clear, narrowly missing the gang members at their heels.

Out in the open, the mid afternoon sun hits them straight in the eyes. B radios urgent pickup from the crew on standby. A’s knees buckle from the pain and she collapses.

'Woah!’ B bends with her and moves his other arm behind her knees. He sits on the ground, cradling her weak form in his lap. A looks up and his brown eyes, now brilliant in the sun, meet hers.

'Why are you here?’ she asks

'You’re one of the best. There’s no way..’

'No, why are you here?’ A’s eyelids are daring to close, her limbs feel heavy.

B stills at the question and looks up. In his lap, A’s breathing slows and he realises he needs to keep talking to keep her awake.

'Because I had to find you’

A huffs. Her eyes slightly open as she mumbles,

'You don’t care where I am. Eight years we’ve been.. been in this job and you.. you never cared.. what I was up to’

'You couldn’t be more wrong.. A, I worship you’

His own confession has his heart hammering in his chest. B hears the distant sound of a helicopter and looks down at A’s face, unconscious on his elbow.

He bends over to kiss her forehead, almost sorry that he chose the worst time to confess. Then he lifts her, cradling her close and walks toward the landing helicopter.