imfollowinghim | fourteen ✪ voice

Relax, it turns out we're like, ten feet away from the infirmary.

[It might be an exaggeration, it might not, but he's headed there now anyway.]

Did you get him?

Good. [Whether it's true or not, Steve lets out a breath. That's a relief - although not much of one, because Bucky clearly needs it, if that's where he's headed.]

Yeah. We got him. I don't know what we'll get out of him though.

I'll be right down. [There are people he leave in charge of this guy.

Also, Steve is a very fast runner. Which he is doing now.]

[Usually, Bucky is too. Not Steve fast, obviously, but fast.

Right now, though, he's keeping his right hand against the door frame of the infirmary trying to catch his breath, which is hard to do when he's pretty sure Zane busted a rib, maybe two. Or three. His left hand's tucked awkwardly in his jacket pocket, and he's still got his gun in his right, just in case.

And despite knowing he's probably got some kind of concussion, he still whips around to look when he hears footsteps behind him. He manages a smile that's maybe a little guilty.]

Hey.

[Steve's pulling off his helmet as he rounds the corner - he almost pulls up short, when he sees Bucky in the hallway, but instead puts on one last burst of speed so he can get over there and give him a hand - if he needs it. He'll pull up right beside Bucky and look, if you need someone or something to balance on, use him, please. He won't say a word - well, except,] Ten feet, huh?

Beat you down here, didn't I? [He sounds dazed, but he's still vertical, so that's something, right?

There's blood and glass in his hair, a matching set of shiners around his eyes, and he does reach out to hang onto Steve's arm so they can finish limping into the infirmary.]

Before you start nagging, I promise the other guy looks worse than I do.

[What with having his face more or less blown off.]

Maybe. [But you are still vertical. He's starting to think that's a miracle. And not one that's going to last.

So he's kind of glad Bucky reaches out and actually take the help he's offering. He knows that both of them can be stubborn about that. Still, Steve tries to hide the wince - or at least, pass it off as, you know, a wince of sympathy - when he gets a good look at Bucky's face. It's just - for a second - he's a little disoriented.

But it passes. He knows where - and when - he is. And who he's with. So they'll just work their way slowly into the infirmary, at whatever pace Bucky needs.] I'll bet he does. Which is impressive, because you kind of look like crap.

[He says it lightly, trying to smile, like, You dumbass, but he's still worried.] Hope you didn't have any dates next week.

[Bucky's answering grin is slow and still maybe a little dazed.] Hate to tell you this, pal, but we're kind of missing dance halls around here. [So, no, he does not have a date next week.

He sways a little, blinks, and takes a shallow breath, like he's steadying himself up for the rest of the walk, and tries not to think too hard about how this isn't entirely different from when Steve had bailed him out of the HYDRA factory, especially as his voice gets a little more pinched and he leans a little more heavily on Steve.]

I'm fine. Zane threw me into the wall a couple times. Guy's a lot stronger than he looks.

[They probably have a minute or two before Jack swoops in and starts demanding to look at what happened, and that's fine, he guesses, but Bucky honestly just wants to get this over with. Skip this whole thing and just collapse in bed somewhere.

(Not the infirmary.)]

[The way he's reacting isn't sitting well in Steve's stomach. He's thinking concussion - he's hoping it's just a concussion.] Oh yeah? Must've slipped my notice.

[Steve tightens his grip when Bucky sways; this position is really familiar, and he didn't like being in it any better back then. They're in the door, but that's not quite good enough for Steve. He finds the nearest empty bed and starts heading for it. Bucky might not really have a choice as to whether he's coming or not, but Steve's thinking Bucky really needs to not be vertical very much longer.]

I could've told you that. [He's seen what Zane - and Vin - can do. It's impressive. And he's never had that full power turned on him. He thinks it would be an interesting fight if it was. But it's a lot less interesting when it's Bucky.] You look like a raccoon. Did he break anything? [If Bucky even knows.]

[Bucky doesn't protest the direction, not that he has much choice in the matter even if he did. Putting one foot in front of the other takes most of his attention, and not standing up definitely sound appealing, even if lying down is probably going to really friggin' hurt. The fact that he's not sure when he's going to be getting up again any time soon after it happens doesn't help it sound too appealing, either.

So maybe he'll just sit down for a while.]

A couple ribs, maybe. Hit my head pretty hard, might've sprained my wrist. [Or it's broken. Either way, it's a good thing he's not left handed.

Another shallow breath - it hurts too much to do anything deeper - and then some hoarse, painful laughter, because:] Didn't this used to be the other way around? I really am turning into you.

Why a raccoon? [He hasn't seen his face yet, and it's more discolored than swollen, so he's not entirely sure what he looks like.] It's really that bad?

[The fact that Bucky doesn't protest tells him a lot; but it's also kind of good, just at the moment, because Steve's not really in the mood for arguing over fine vs. really not. He doesn't care if Bucky just sits - sitting is still better than standing, and that's what matters. Although from the look of him - and the laundry list Bucky gives him a second later - lying down is going to be the better option. Lying down for a nice, long while.

Steve's already thinking that's going to be a challenge. But it's one he'll deal with when he has to, and not before.

He just nods, when Bucky seems to have listed everything - and lets out a little burst of laughter, feeling a little sheepish, actually, at that other remark - and sounding it, too.] Yeah, it kind of did. I'm betting you're still crap at art, though. [And Bucky's gotten Steve out of scrapes, even after the procedure. There have been times when he would have been an easy target, if Bucky hadn't been looking out for him, through that spotter's scope. He knows it, too.

Steve gets him over to the bed, tries to provide something steady so Bucky can get himself onto it, whether he wants to sit or lie down. Then he smiles wryly, pointing under both his own eyes.] You've got a matched pair, buddy. I might have to smuggle you up a steak or two.

You just don't appreciate talent when you see it, [He shoots back, trying to hold back a grimace. He's also totally kidding, because yeah, Bucky is never winning awards for art.

You, though, might want to consider a career in it. Or at least doing some shows or something sometime.

Sitting and lying down both seem kind of hard when you're dizzy and your good hand is still gripping your friend's sleeve to keep steady, but he does manage to oh so carefully sit down on the edge of the bed. It still hurts like a bitch, though, and he can't exactly hold back the pained gasp when his ribs let him know that they desperately do not appreciate this.

He squeezes his eyes shut and might go a shade or two paler at the mention of steaks. Sure, this reaction isn't exactly the correct context, but he can't stop the way his stomach turns at that.]

Don't talk about food right now.

[They also seem to have caught the attention of Jack, who is hustling his way over with a bleated "What happened?"]

I guess not. [He offers a tight little smile, but Bucky's not looking so good, so they can save the kidding for when he's at least sitting down. Maybe after they've gotten him some painkillers. A lot of painkillers.

And hey, he's got a career, thanks. It's called risking his neck on a daily basis. Fun?

He winces - definitely in sympathy, this time - as Bucky sinks down onto the edge of the bed, and Steve's going nowhere, Bucky can use him for support or just as a thing to squeeze for as long as he needs. He does have time to at least look apologetic before Jack's coming over, and he gives a short report of what Bucky told him, but then lets Bucky answer any more detailed questions.

He stays as long as he can; he hates to leave, but eventually he's got to go deal with this Joker situation (it's still volatile) and once Jack takes over, Bucky's sort of out of his hands, anyway. He promises he'll check in, he'll be back, and hopes that maybe if he leaves, Bucky will actually get some rest. He looks like he needs it. Desperately.

Although by the time this is all over, it's not surprising that Bucky is ready to, as a SHIELD agent once put it (and then had to explain), get the hell outta Dodge. Steve wouldn't be surprised if Jack's ready to let him go, either, because sorry pal, but you can be a horrible patient. So he swings by once it's finally safe - still in uniform, still starving, and still in need of a shower after all that - to pick up Bucky and see if he can be convinced to come down to Level 7, rather than going up to that bunk bed on 1. For once, Steve's glad for the nicer bed.] I hear you need a responsible adult to take you home.

[Bucky is absolutely being a horrible patient. He'd tried to sit through the exams and treatment without complaint - he knows he has to do this, and he knows the doctor(s) have been working pretty much round the clock, so he doesn't want to be a pain in the ass - but that got progressively more difficult the longer they went on.

He's not scared of hospitals, or doctors, or needles or getting stitches or anything, but he's definitely set on edge by the whole situation, and the uneasiness has translated to getting snappish and short, especially after he'd had to sit through an MRI to make sure his skull wasn't fractured. The machine being completely unfamiliar hadn't exactly helped him relax either, but the worst part by far had been being in pain, flat on his back, and subjected to tests by some doctor he doesn't really know or trust, and he's just kind of desperate to go somewhere to lick his wounds in private.

Jack asks questions too, both to make sure he's comfortable and understands what's going on, but also about why he tenses up when he makes certain moves, or handles certain tools. Not in a probing way, really, just like they're having a conversation about it, and as nice as that is to not feel interrogated, it still pisses him off.

Things had sort of hit a low point when Bucky and Jack had started yelling at each other about whether or not he's going to be staying the night here. They're both exhausted, stubborn and not in the mood to deal with anyone else's shit, and Jack knows this is the safer choice and Bucky knows he's not going to be able to sleep or get comfortable here, so they're at a bit of a standstill.

And then Steve shows up, and Jack probably has a comment for him when he sees him walk in, because please feel free to take your stupid friend somewhere else and call me if he starts bleeding out of his ears.

So although Bucky still looks miserable and is definitely grouchy and sore, he is relieved to see Steve. He's got a bandage around his head for the cuts on his scalp, another around his left hand, and his left arm's in a sling. His ribs have been wrapped up too, and he's on a lot of painkillers right now, but they're not really doing enough to turn him into a floppy, sleepy mess just yet.]

So why the hell'd they send you? [It's supposed to be a joke, but he's so burnt out and angry right now that it probably doesn't come out right. He grimaces, although his expression's somewhere between guilt and pained, and gathers up his jacket (which definitely needs a wash and a patch job) with his good hand before slowly starting to slide off the bed.

He's probably going to need a hand up.]

Everything okay?

[Steve kind of wishes he could be surprised by the fact that Jack is ready to shove Bucky out the door, but he's really not. Then again, one look tells him that Bucky is as ready to be gone as Jack is to have him gone, so he's all too happy to lend a hand, here.

Literally. Because yeah, you're getting a hand up, as long as Steve can find someplace to grab that's not going to hurt more. He settles for Bucky's right bicep, that seems safe, and even when Bucky's on his feet, he can probably feel the fact that Steve is exerting exactly enough upward force to keep him on his feet, regardless of whether he can do it on his own.

Plus, he knows that was a joke, so he grins accordingly. Don't worry about it, pal.] Sorry, I'm all they've got left. Guess I'll just have to do.

[He's going to make sure Bucky is steady on his feet - or, you know, as steady as he's going to get - before he even thinks about moving. And if Bucky would rather sling an arm over his shoulders and hang on that way, that's fine.

Steve makes an unhappy face at the question, but manages to shrug with one shoulder.] Okay's a relative term. Over, you could say. [And he's not sure how he feels about it, but it can wait until Bucky's not barely standing under his own power.] So… what do you say to my place. Even you can't argue for those bunks right now. [Or, you know, you can try. He won't buy it.]

[Honestly, he wants to put up a fight about all of this. He really does. But he feels like he's been hit by a car, the drugs and concussion are making him groggy, and Jack had said he was lucky not to have a skull fracture. That he probably should have one, honestly, considering how hard he'd been thrown into the wall and how bruised everything was.

He doesn't want to think about it. He just wants to get out of here.

So he lets Steve keep him steady, even if for the time being, his feet are under him. They just might not stay that way for too long. Walking is maybe going to be harder than just stand up straight.

And really, even if he'd gotten out of this in one piece, he probably wouldn't have said no to crashing in Steve's room.]

Fine. But you're out of your goddamn mind if you think you're carrying me out of here. [Because look, he knows you thought it at least once.

Bucky carefully tucks his jacket under the sling and does throw an arm over Steve's shoulders, because that seems like a better idea while he's still capable of making it his choice and not a necessity.] Lead the way, Cap.

[Well, Bucky, you've always had a hard head.

And Steve can't say he hadn't thought about carrying you out of here, though it's not the preferred way to get you someplace else, no. So he maybe looks a fraction sheepish but mostly teasing when he says, agreeably,] Not unless you keel over, pal. You've still got bullets left in that sidearm. I don't feel like getting on your bad side today.

[Steve waits for Bucky to get himself together and, in lieu of getting an arm around his waist and making those broken ribs worse, he'll just keep his right hand on Bucky's to keep him from slipping down. He'll figure out getting doors open when it comes to that.] Come on, Sergeant. [And thus begins their long, arduous journey down five levels to Steve's room. This might take a while.]

[Bucky's almost silent as they slowly make their way out of the infirmary. It's taking all the effort he can manage just to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and the closer they get, the more he finds himself leaning into Steve. His head aches, and he's a little dizzy, and broken ribs really fucking suck.

(It's probably a good thing he hasn't eaten in a while, otherwise there's a decent chance he'd be throwing up on himself, or Steve, or both.)

But he's a stubborn pain in the ass, so it's not until they're about halfway there that he really starts losing it. He's exhausted - stress, injury (and his body already trying to repair itself), the fact that he hasn't slept or eaten in a while all kind of pooling together to the point of where he almost feels drunk. He staggers and starts to slip a little when they hit the bottom stair, blinking rapidly and trying to clear spots from his vision.]

One sec. [Bucky tries to tighten his grip on Steve, shaking his head and then grimacing when right, that's really not a great idea.] Just need to get my breath back.

[Steve's honestly starting to think that Bucky's not going to make it the whole way. Look, pride is one thing, but concussions trump pride. They even trump stubbornness, because right now, Steve's starting to think that sheer stubbornness is the only thing that's kept Bucky going this long. But it's starting to run out.

When Bucky stumbles, Steve stops and tries to carefully tighten his grip on Bucky's hand, because the only other way to grab him is around those broken ribs and like hell he's going to do that. But if he grips Bucky much harder, he's going to end up tugging him over his shoulder by that arm, and let's not add a dislocated right arm to the left one already in a sling.

He pauses, takes a breath, then shakes his head slightly.] Look - I'm sorry. You can get me back later. [But before Bucky can do or say anything, Steve ducks down, slides under him, and picks him up in a fireman's carry - because at least that way he can put all of Bucky's weight on his right side over Steve's shoulders and avoid even touching the left. And he just gets going down the next set of stairs, taking care to make sure there's enough clearance for Bucky's head any time they go around a corner.]

[Bucky barely has time to realize what Steve's doing before he's already draped all over his friend's shoulders. And while his weight isn't on his bad side, it still fucking hurts and that pained gasp of surprise is completely genuine.

So you've got maybe a minute or so of no protesting, because he's mostly just trying not to pass out.]

Goddammit Steve, [He grumbles once he gets his breath back.] Put me down.

[Except he's not struggling at all, because that's going to mean hurting himself worse or falling on the ground, which is definitely worse than being carried.

Maybe.

Better hope no one sees them.]

[Well, he didn't expect to make it the whole way without any complaints. So he'll take what he can get.]

I will, [he promises shortly.] When we get down to Level 7.

[Which is actually going to be pretty soon; he's being careful, but he can move a lot faster now that it's just him and he's not trying to go slow on Bucky's account. So it's not much longer until they're there - and hey, no, they haven't been spotted - and Steve gets the door open with his free hand and slips inside. He hasn't even seen his cabin, really, since this began, but everything's still mostly in order, except for anything that was knocked off the desk when the ship lurched around at first. He beelines for the bed, turning his back to it and crouching down so he can, he hopes, slide Bucky off his shoulders and into a sitting position on the bed without it hurting more than it really has to.]

Edited 2014-07-31 01:20 (UTC)

[Bucky's mostly quiet the rest of the way down. Honestly, he might be fading in and out of consciousness a little, because it feels like one minute they're walking down the hallway, and then he's jolting awake when Steve tries to get him on the bed because his ribs and sprained arm really, really do not appreciate that.

Still, albeit with another pained groan, he winds up more or less safely on the bed, and blinks owlishly up at Steve. The bed feels too soft, just like the couch had the first time he'd sat on it, but right now, it's okay. Probably better than sleeping on the floor in the shape he's in, and he's exhausted enough that he'll probably be able to sleep just fine, no matter how squishy the mattress feels.]

Thanks.

[And then he's reaching down to try and start unlacing his boots, and kind of winds up losing his balance in the process.]

[Steve's just hoping Bucky's going to be conscious when he sets him down on the bed - but that groan tells him he is, so he lets his grip go once he's reasonably sure Bucky will be able to stay upright on his own.

Also, just for your information, if you try sleeping on the floor, there's going to be a problem. Bucky needs to be in a bed right now, because sleeping on a floor will not do his broken ribs any favors. There's a reason Steve brought him down here. If he wanted Bucky to suffer in as much pain as possible, he would've taken him up to Level 1, because military beds are sometimes a step down from the floor.

Of course, when Bucky tries to unlace his boots, Steve snorts and moves to grab him - extremely carefully - by the shoulders. Then he's trying to just steer Bucky down into a horizontal position.]

Just lie down, you blockhead. If you want 'em off, I'll get them. [In the meantime, he tugs Bucky's jacket out of his grip and tosses it over the desk chair to be dealt with later.]

[Well, at least he's not trying to fight that guidance? Again, not that he probably could if he wanted to, but anyway, it's easy enough to just let Steve lean him back because that definitely seems better than actually collapsing on the floor, or on him.

Even if lying down still really smarts in its own way. It'll take a couple seconds for him to get his bearings again.]

Maybe I was using that, [He slurs in protest when Steve steals his jacket from him before he tries to shift onto his uninjured side to get a little more comfortable on your weird marshmallowy bed. The foggy, sort of muted pain when he's just sitting around trying to breathe is starting to get sharper, which he's pretty sure shouldn't be happening for a couple more hours at least, and his face screws up again as he scoots around a little more, trying to reposition his left arm so it's not lying on his ribs.]

These painkillers friggin' suck. [They're wearing off too quickly, and he's not with it enough right now to know that what means. Just another check in a box he really doesn't want to think about right now, or ever.]

[And Steve appreciates that, because he really doesn't want to have to fight his best friend over just lying down to get some rest.]

You can have it back later, [He says, with just a hint of a tease, giving Bucky the space he needs to get comfortable - or at least, more comfortable. He's not sure there is any sort of comfortable with broken ribs. Even when he breaks them, it takes a few days to heal, and he can't take any painkillers at all unless they're meant for a herd of elephants, so it's not a fun experience. It's better just to try and sleep it off -

Especially when Bucky complains about the pain, too. He doesn't want to think about what it means, either, so he just... won't. He'll just concentrate on getting Bucky to take it easy.] Maybe they were saving all the good stuff for the kids. Need anything? Aside from a new set of ribs and a brain you didn't try to turn into Jell-o.

There's one kid, and she'd say you were a pansy for needing them. [He means Arya, because she's what, twelve? And pretty friggin' terrifying.

He shifts again, slowly reaching up to readjust one of the pillows - everything feels sort of heavy and uncooperative, so the motion's a lot more uncoordinated than it should be - before settling back in again. His eyes dip shut, and it's almost easy to just start letting himself shut down.

... Probably because he's already really overtaxed himself.]

I'm fine. [Well, you know. He doesn't need anything right now. He's not fine.

And then, proving they pretty much are bookends to each other or something:] You should take it easy.

[Because he knows you've been running around basically nonstop since this got started, and even with the serum, you've got to be feeling pretty tired. And hungry.]

Thanks for bailing me out.

Voice

Voice

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam (and feel free to skip ahead or I can shortly!)

Spam (sounds good c:)

Spam (o7)

Spam

Spam (let me know if anything needs changing~)

Spam (looks good to me C:)

Spam (excellent~ 8Db)

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Re: Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam