[[Post Docking Plot]]
Aug. 7th, 2012 10:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deadlyoriginDays hadn't been easy to count during their little adventure. Much like on the station she had found other measures to try and count but they'd only worked so well. There are scars she'd carry away with her, a shot to the upper arm and the another to her torso. But she has many scars from many adventures in her life. This was no different. The wounds were fresh now, and being back on a floor she recognized with the people she'd come to know in her time here was a relief. She found herself not caring about her own injuries, but looking around to her friends.
"Rogers," she moves toward her friend, looking to see if he's injured. "Are you alright?"
Steve turns around when he hears his name, even as Zoe heads off. "Natasha," he acknowledges his teammate. "I'm alright," he adds, in typical Steve fashion, never mind that his whole body language screams of an injury to his left side, never mind that the laser burn is visible through the burned hole of his overalls. "How are you?" he asks, walking closer, almost but not quite limping.
Even more than the burn hole, the movement is enough to tell her that he's not alright for all that he claims it. "No, you aren't."
Her words brook no argument as she moves to him, her own injuries unimportant until she's seen to his. "Let me see."
"It's nothing that won't heal on its own," Steve assured her, but let her have a look at the burnt skin. "I had a fight with a laser, and it won. What about you?" She was clearly injured.
"It won't heal as fast as it should and it still needs care," she points out. Natasha knows they'll both heal faster than normal though she'll never be up to his standard. Still, here on the station things are different, they're all that much closer to human. "I'm fine. Stay here."
Her own wounds aren't as bad as his and she's happy to ignore them for as long as it takes to demand something resembling a first aid kit from the replicators. "Let me clean it for you."
While she goes to the replicators, Steve of course doesn't stay put. But he doesn't go very far, just around the people there, checking up on everyone, both their physical health and their morale.
When Natasha got back to him, he told the person he'd been talking to a heartfelt, "You take care," then turned to his teammate without dropping the act - he was in a lot more pain than he let on. "You do me, but then I do you, Natasha," he warned her.
Natasha hasn't expected him to stay put, it isn't his way. To find him talking to someone more concerned about their well being than his own reaffirms what she thinks about him already. Setting the first aid kit up, she frowns but nods in agreement. "Alright. That I can accept. Now let me see."
Steve peels off the top of his overalls, trying not to wince as the movement pulls on his burnt skin. Then he hitches up the tank top, revealing a stretch of skin that is black in places, red in others. It's not pretty, and it's obvious that he is in a lot more pain than he lets on.
"Steve," she uses his first name, a hiss of air as she looks at the wounds. "That's not nothing," Natasha pulls out a sterile wipe, dampening it with alcohol and pressing it to the edge of the burns. That she keeps talking is mostly to distract him from any pain. "How long would this have taken to heal back home?"
The use of his first name is not lost on Steve, but he says nothing to her assessment of his wound. He just clenches his jaw against the onslaught of pain at the first dabs of the wipe. "That was my first time against lasers," he says, and looks down at the wound. "I don't know. One day? Two?" He honestly has no idea; it's his first time with a major burn. Better him than Zoe, though, he thinks, but says nothing, in case she might appear by their side and start berating him again. She's a very willful young woman, he's found out.
"Lasers are their own special joy." Natasha is being methodical, first cleaning the wound and then donning a plastic glove before smearing cream over it. All of it has to hurt but he is Captain America and she doesn't expect him to show the pain more than he is. "Is it going to heal fast enough, or should I bandage it up?"
The pain does show more, because it is greater, but Steve doesn't make a sound, jaw tense, staring ahead at the wall across from them. When she is done, he lets out a soft breath, and looks at her. He wishes he could tell her that there is no need, but he cannot help being realistic. "Best to bandage it up," he allows, inwardly cursing the nanites in his blood stream for weakening the serum.
"Alright." Natasha unrolls it slowly, wrapping it around him. No adhesives, just the cream and the gauze wrapped slowly around what she could admit intellectually was a very fit torso. Her own shoulder aches and burns but she simply grits her teeth until he's done. "You'll have to change it every day, keep it dry and clean."
He nods his assent to her recommendation, as he slowly pulls his tank top back into place. "Your turn," he then reminds her, and returns the favor. He knows how to dress a bullet wound (or, in this case, two); he's helped out with his own men enough times. He does it efficiently and quickly, but not hastily. Like everything he does, it is done with care. He wouldn't botch it up.
"There," he announces, when he is done, and she's been as silent during the more painful parts as his toughest men - the ones that didn't prefer to brag or curse through the pain, anyway.
It had hurt, but Natasha has had practice at keeping quiet. It wouldn't do to show weakness, it's something that's ingrained in her from her life before SHIELD. "Thank you."
She means it, turning to catch his eyes with hers. "I should find Clint. Let him know i'm okay."
Steve nods, both acknowledgement of her thanks and of where she's going. "I'll check on the others." On Sharon, first. She's only human, after all, and yes, he's going to stick with that reason.
"Let me know." Natasha knows that he would anyway, turning to go. "Glad you came through."
"You too," he adds, as earnest as usual, and holds out the first aid kit to her. "Don't forget that."
Natasha smiles as she grabs it from him. "Never know when I'll get one of these again."
That earns her a half-smile, very much that of a big brother indulging his little sister. "Hopefully after you've healed." And that, the hope of the big brother in question, never mind that he was worse than her on that particular topic.
"The life of an Avenger," she shrugs, her smile widening. Rogers is the best kind of people, the few she'll trust to have her back.
"Rogers," she moves toward her friend, looking to see if he's injured. "Are you alright?"
Steve turns around when he hears his name, even as Zoe heads off. "Natasha," he acknowledges his teammate. "I'm alright," he adds, in typical Steve fashion, never mind that his whole body language screams of an injury to his left side, never mind that the laser burn is visible through the burned hole of his overalls. "How are you?" he asks, walking closer, almost but not quite limping.
Even more than the burn hole, the movement is enough to tell her that he's not alright for all that he claims it. "No, you aren't."
Her words brook no argument as she moves to him, her own injuries unimportant until she's seen to his. "Let me see."
"It's nothing that won't heal on its own," Steve assured her, but let her have a look at the burnt skin. "I had a fight with a laser, and it won. What about you?" She was clearly injured.
"It won't heal as fast as it should and it still needs care," she points out. Natasha knows they'll both heal faster than normal though she'll never be up to his standard. Still, here on the station things are different, they're all that much closer to human. "I'm fine. Stay here."
Her own wounds aren't as bad as his and she's happy to ignore them for as long as it takes to demand something resembling a first aid kit from the replicators. "Let me clean it for you."
While she goes to the replicators, Steve of course doesn't stay put. But he doesn't go very far, just around the people there, checking up on everyone, both their physical health and their morale.
When Natasha got back to him, he told the person he'd been talking to a heartfelt, "You take care," then turned to his teammate without dropping the act - he was in a lot more pain than he let on. "You do me, but then I do you, Natasha," he warned her.
Natasha hasn't expected him to stay put, it isn't his way. To find him talking to someone more concerned about their well being than his own reaffirms what she thinks about him already. Setting the first aid kit up, she frowns but nods in agreement. "Alright. That I can accept. Now let me see."
Steve peels off the top of his overalls, trying not to wince as the movement pulls on his burnt skin. Then he hitches up the tank top, revealing a stretch of skin that is black in places, red in others. It's not pretty, and it's obvious that he is in a lot more pain than he lets on.
"Steve," she uses his first name, a hiss of air as she looks at the wounds. "That's not nothing," Natasha pulls out a sterile wipe, dampening it with alcohol and pressing it to the edge of the burns. That she keeps talking is mostly to distract him from any pain. "How long would this have taken to heal back home?"
The use of his first name is not lost on Steve, but he says nothing to her assessment of his wound. He just clenches his jaw against the onslaught of pain at the first dabs of the wipe. "That was my first time against lasers," he says, and looks down at the wound. "I don't know. One day? Two?" He honestly has no idea; it's his first time with a major burn. Better him than Zoe, though, he thinks, but says nothing, in case she might appear by their side and start berating him again. She's a very willful young woman, he's found out.
"Lasers are their own special joy." Natasha is being methodical, first cleaning the wound and then donning a plastic glove before smearing cream over it. All of it has to hurt but he is Captain America and she doesn't expect him to show the pain more than he is. "Is it going to heal fast enough, or should I bandage it up?"
The pain does show more, because it is greater, but Steve doesn't make a sound, jaw tense, staring ahead at the wall across from them. When she is done, he lets out a soft breath, and looks at her. He wishes he could tell her that there is no need, but he cannot help being realistic. "Best to bandage it up," he allows, inwardly cursing the nanites in his blood stream for weakening the serum.
"Alright." Natasha unrolls it slowly, wrapping it around him. No adhesives, just the cream and the gauze wrapped slowly around what she could admit intellectually was a very fit torso. Her own shoulder aches and burns but she simply grits her teeth until he's done. "You'll have to change it every day, keep it dry and clean."
He nods his assent to her recommendation, as he slowly pulls his tank top back into place. "Your turn," he then reminds her, and returns the favor. He knows how to dress a bullet wound (or, in this case, two); he's helped out with his own men enough times. He does it efficiently and quickly, but not hastily. Like everything he does, it is done with care. He wouldn't botch it up.
"There," he announces, when he is done, and she's been as silent during the more painful parts as his toughest men - the ones that didn't prefer to brag or curse through the pain, anyway.
It had hurt, but Natasha has had practice at keeping quiet. It wouldn't do to show weakness, it's something that's ingrained in her from her life before SHIELD. "Thank you."
She means it, turning to catch his eyes with hers. "I should find Clint. Let him know i'm okay."
Steve nods, both acknowledgement of her thanks and of where she's going. "I'll check on the others." On Sharon, first. She's only human, after all, and yes, he's going to stick with that reason.
"Let me know." Natasha knows that he would anyway, turning to go. "Glad you came through."
"You too," he adds, as earnest as usual, and holds out the first aid kit to her. "Don't forget that."
Natasha smiles as she grabs it from him. "Never know when I'll get one of these again."
That earns her a half-smile, very much that of a big brother indulging his little sister. "Hopefully after you've healed." And that, the hope of the big brother in question, never mind that he was worse than her on that particular topic.
"The life of an Avenger," she shrugs, her smile widening. Rogers is the best kind of people, the few she'll trust to have her back.
