Staples in your head and a kiss on your lips

April 10, 2016:

Sharon waits by Cap's bedside after surgery to close the wound he received versus the mysterious Elements.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Steve stirs with a deep exhale that gives some indication he's beginning to rise. The procedure to put his scalp back together was not complex, but was difficult due to the surgeon not being fully cognizant of how tough the Star Spangled Avenger's skin was. Power tools were used and it was an odd sight.

Within a few hours, though, Steve opens up his eyes in the hospital room, and tries to get his bearings. His vision is blurry while his eyes need a moment to adjust. His first thought is about the need for water, while the second is what had happened to put him here. He doesn't remember the shot he took. Only everything before it. If they are here, it probably means things ended well.

Immediately he tries to sit up.

If someone had asked Sharon Carter if she thought she'd be *capable* of carrying Steve Rogers previously, she probably would have said no. But adrenaline is a funny thing, and since she carried him away from that mess of an assassination attempt, she's stuck rather firmly at his side, like some lioness guarding her family. She's been even MORE cranky than usual, and the younger agents have just learned to give her a wide berth as they way to see if he'd wake up.

Surely he'd wake up. He had to. He'd been through worse, right? Just maybe not worse head injuries, not ones that had to involve power tools. Sharon's report was given during the surgery, but then she's wait outside the room and now inside his recovery room since. She might be scaring the medical staff. She doesn't care.

She doesn't catch his eyes opening, buried in a tablet of work, but the moment he tries to sit, though, she's out of the chair like a jack in the box, fingertips moving for his shoulders, "Hey there, hot shot. Sitting might be a bad idea right now, unless you like puking. That's a bit more than a concussion you got yourself." She tries to hide the soul-deep worry she was feeling beneath some teasing, but she's not all that good at deceiving *him*.

"I've never been hit by a truck, but I imagine this is the headache you get afterwards," Steve says as he gingerly lowers himself back into the bed. He waits a moment, but then pieces things together. "Did we win?"

The water towards the right of the bed is poured and he takes a big swallow. "Glad that's over with."

As he grabs for water, Sharon swats his hands away and pours it for him. She might be a bit protective, even if he's a super soldier. She did do nurse training at some point in her past, part of her ability to go undercover. She reaches back, shifting his pillow enough to help prop him up without dramatically sitting him straight. THEN he is handed water.

"I don't know if… Win is the exact word. Some got away, we got the one that tried to kill you and a few others. We got lucky there were… Friends around. They came in numbers and they came for *you*." Sharon states, her soft voice stern.

"Better than a few months ago when they would have been coming /at/ me," Steve says with a chuckle. "Progress."

He reaches over his body to set the glass on the table and looks to Sharon, "Thanks for being here. That's kind of you." Quickly, he changes the subject. "The ones who didn't get away, did we apprehend them?" Steve is intent on getting some answers.

"Yes. The interrogation people are with them now. I don't know how much they've gotten yet. I filed my report while you were in surgery and have been… Here." Sharon admits, almost a bit ashamed, because sitting at his side instead of going off doing work probably shows she might actually care for someone beyond the job. She sighs, studying his face, especially his eyes, looking for any hint of brain damage or worse concussion.

"And they were coming *at* you, Steve. If you didn't notice, this was an attempt on your life." She makes no comment about being there, trying to keep it all professional, but the worry behind her voice is clear.

"Not the first time," he says in reply as he abruptly sits up and turns sideways upon the bed. It might make him feel a bit sick, but Cap was always one to test things out, and unafraid of discomfort or danger.

"Depending on how you look at it, it might have been another attack similar to the one in DC. If someone is coming after me, I prefer it to be out in the open. Maybe they'll grow tired of this cloak and dagger business."

And then, just as abruptly, he stands up in his night gown, heading over to the closet.

"Whoa, soldier! Hold on right there. You just had *BRAIN* surgery, you know that? With f*cking power tools!" Oh yes, Sharon is worried. If she's cursing, she's worried, even if that might get a glare from him. She's also not scared of him, so she stands up immediately, chest to chest, trying to stop him from actually walking away from the bed.

"Can you take ten minutes and sit there so I can get a real nurse in here to at least clear you? What are you going to do now other than scramble your brains MORE and barge into an interrogation that our *experts* are already covering? Or did you suddenly get way better at personal information extraction than your record says?" Many people wouldn't stand up to Captain America, but Sharon Carter isn't many people. She's got a blaze in her eyes that seems very much a Carter trait.

Steve looks over his shoulder at Sharon. "With the exception of the Man of Steel and some Canadian redneck I fought a war with a long time ago, I heal pretty quickly. My headache's already gone." Normally he'd do as the lady asks, but time was wasting, so he'd need to be quick.

He drops the nightgown and opens the closet door to find his under shirt. He throws it over his head quickly and rolls it down his chest and stomach. "Sharon. You've sat by my bed for how long? I'm not really good at reading between the lines on these sorts of things and I have no idea how to talk or figure out women. If you can be straight with me, that'd be best for everyone involved."

As he brushes past her and still goes for the closet, Sharon sighs. Her arms fold across her chest, complete impatience on her expression, but she's not hitting the call button. A nurse wasn't going to stop him any more than she was. So she watches him, trying not to let her eyes roam but, dammit, they roam. All of him was worth seeing and she can't fight the slight heat that creeps up her cheeks as she gets a nice look of a long line of Steve Rogers.

Then he's asking her things that aren't about the investigation and her mind has to catch up to what is going on in front of her. She clears her throat, shaking he head to him, "…W-what? Wait? I…. It's only been a few hours. I've been working. There was an attempt on your life. I… I just wanted to make certain you had the best body guard. I was… worried." Even all of that sounds like excuses to her. She frowns, sinking down to sit on the edge of his now empty bed. "…Look, I'm probably as awful as you at this. But… I don't have many friends outside of work, or, really, inside of it. Much less people whose company I enjoy that ask me to breakfast. Or hockey games. I…" She looks up, possibly about to say something, but then she's just *staring* at him again and her often formidiable courage is quite lost. "…I… really enjoyed breakfast."

"Yeah, me too. Does it bother you at all that I used to date your Aunt?" Steve asks as if it's no big deal. He sends a text message for a SHIELD operative to pick up his equipment and meet him at the Triskelion. "So if it doesn't bother you," he begins to say just as he's finishing the text message. "We should do things like that, more. Like often."

"If it bothered me, I'd have never said yes to the hockey game." It's not like everyone in the world didn't know about Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter — the legend from the 40s, at least, if not the modern dating. But Sharon's response is as earnest and forward as she generally is, even if there's still an odd heat creeping up her cheeks. "I think I'd enjoy that, Steve. When we can find free time. So, maybe next year?" SHe asks with a wry smile. It's the same old joke, but there is comfort in it, even as her heart pounds oddly against her sternum.

"Next year it is," Steve says with a smile as he pulls his bomber jacket out of the locker. "And, you know, any time I get time before that, as well." The sunglasses are pulled from the pocket and hooked with one arm over the front of his shirt. "Where do you want to go next time? You into fancy or you into not so fancy?"

With that, since she clearly wasn't convincing him to stay, Sharon stands and grabs her tablet before walking over to his side. She's still in her more casual clothes from before, so she'd need to change before going on duty as well. Evidence to the fact she really did sit there the whole time. "…Uh… I don't think I'd know what to do with fancy if it hit me. The company is what matters. For someone who's lived in New York most her adult life, I've seen next to nothing if it wasn't destroyed by something ridiculous. So… take me one of your old favourite places? If any are still around?" She asks with a slight sly smile.

Steve grins and shrugs his shoulders, "Well, most of those places all closed. But I have some new ones I'd like you to try." He tilts his head toward the door, "Well, we should probably get back to it." He pauses, and looks at her for a long while. "Thanks for staying."

"I look forward to it." Sharon admits, her sly smile growing a bit more warm and genuine. For once, she's not quietly panicking about the thought of doing something that isn't work, which says volumes about his affect on her alone. As he looks at her, she takes a step closer, like there is something almost drawing her. This time, it's not trying to keep him in a hospital bed. "…Thanks for waking up. You… you scared me."

"Get used to it. It's sort of what we do," Steve says as he leans in for a quick kiss. Almost as soon as he plants it, he pulls it away. Business first. "I'll give you a call tonight. Bye Sharon," he says as he makes his way to the door and out into the Triskelion. He's got some guys he'd like to interrogate. Personally.

The kiss is returned for about a second. Sharon's getting over the shock for the first second and it really only lasts that long, but its enough. She straightens the edges of her shirt and nods curtly, expression going back to all business except for the fact her cheeks are now more than a bit hot. "Keep me updated on what you find out? I'm going to check on how tracking down those that got away is going." And with that, she heads into the hall with him, going the opposite way with a determined walk. No real rest for either of them, but that's the way they liked it.

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