Author Topic: Stay In My Arms  (Read 293 times)

Lucy Rogers

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Stay In My Arms
« on: November 28, 2012, 07:11:54 AM »
The storm of the century was just that, even bigger than anyone had anticipated, requiring the assistance of every man and woman who was willing to help. That call for help had not gone unanswered by those whose power superseded that of ordinary humans. Steve Rogers was only one of a handful of those deemed to be superheroes who had felt the call of duty and volunteered to help. Days had been spent tirelessly preparing for the storm, evacuating those who were unable to leave their homes or had no place to go. Everything that could be done had been done, and still it had not been enough. The storm itself had hit hard and fast, and in the wake of that storm, Captain Rogers had been among the first responders, those who had been called upon to rescue those who were unfortunate enough to have been trapped in the storms' path and whose lives were at risk.

He'd quickly lost all track of time, too busy to rest or grab more than a quick mouthful of food, pushing himself to his own physical limitations. He couldn't afford to rest when he was needed so badly. Rest would come later. He'd lost count of how many he'd helped, each rescue, no matter how different, blending with the next until they seemed to run together in an endless series of struggles, one after another after another. The nights were the worst, quiet and dark and cold, much of the city without power, and though few dared brave the night, he knew that people didn't stop needing his help just because the sky had grown dark. When he wasn't in the field, he was helping where he could in the hospitals, or gathering and delivering supplies to whoever needed them.

It was endless, tireless work, but he could tell, despite the frustration of those he was trying to help, it was appreciated and necessary. It was the little things that made it all worthwhile. The quiet thank yous, the tearful gratitude of those whose lives were made just a little bit better. Even serving a hot meal to those in need made it all worthwhile, rescuing someone's dog, or reuniting a family.

After a while, they'd come to recognize the man in the star spangled uniform as one who was ready and willing to help, even as the uniform started to look as worn out as the man who wore it, and every now and then, a cheer would go up from the crowd whenever they caught sight of the red, white, and blue. Though he wasn't in it for the glory or the praise, it didn't hurt knowing his efforts didn't go unnoticed.

The storm passed, but the work continued. It was estimated that it would take weeks, maybe months, before things got back to normal again, little by little, day by day. Several days after the storm had ravaged the city, Captain Rogers stumbled into a schoolhouse that had been commandeered and turned into a makeshift medical facility, a little girl in his arms whose left leg was twisted at an wholly unnatural angle.

It wasn't just any commandeered building he had stumbled into. This one was being operated entirely by S.H.I.E.L.D., their medical agents working quickly and efficiently to get each new patient triaged, diagnosed, and at least partially treated before the decision was made to discharge them or send them on their way to a better equipped facility. As the Star-Spangled Man stumbled in through the doors, he was noted by a pair of agents who approached him and his unhappy passenger with brisk, weary efficiency. The elder, a man in his fifties, gently took the child from Steve's arms, calling for assistance. The other, a girl who couldn't be more than twenty years old, stayed with the hero. "Captain, do you have any notion of her identification?"

"Molly, she said her name was Molly," Steve replied, wincing imperceptibely as the girl was taken from his arms. He'd found her crying in the rubble of a half-collapsed building - the foundations compromised by the storm - cold, hungry, injured, and alone. "That's all she said. Just Molly." He seemed to be favoring one side, injured at some point or another, he couldn't remember when exactly. Too much had happened.

"Molly, okay." The young nurse looked at Steve sideways. "How long have you been favoring your side, sir?" she asked him sharply, in a tone that suggested lying to her would be a very bad idea. "Reports indicate that you have been working near constantly for a period of almost three days. You should have clocked off for rest and refreshment at least once during that time." And under her breath was added, "You're worse than the new doctor."

Three days? It had been closer to ten, but who was counting? When had he been hurt? He couldn't remember exactly. Maybe it had been when the water had come rushing in, sending tree limbs and debris every which way. Or maybe it was when one of several buildings had collapsed, walls and roofs giving way, sending an avalanche of wood and plaster raining down on rescue teams and victims alike. Maybe it was the vehicles that had bobbed along the flooded roads like toy cars in a kid's pool. He wasn't sure. He no longer remembered. "I'm fine, Miss..." His voice lifted sharply in the form of a question, not recognizing the young woman who seemed  concerned about his well-being. "I don't have time for rest right now. Not while I'm still needed." But then, an exhausted, injured superhero wasn't much more good than those he was trying to help.

The nurse rolled her eyes, glancing about for help. That help came in the rather weary form of Agent Croft, who had been volunteered as security and unskilled labor for the time being. "Agent, would you escort the Captain into one of the triage rooms, please?" she asked, in a manner that was worlds away from a simple request. "Do not take no for an answer. Captain, a doctor will be with you shortly. You're no good to anyone exhausted and injured."
 
Steve knew better than to argue when given a direct order, even if it was an order from a subordinate, especially when he knew she was right. All he needed was a little rest and he'd be as good as new, or so he figured. "Make sure they take care of Molly. That leg needs to be set, and she's dehydrated and in a state of shock. I tried to get more out of her, but she was too weak to tell me more than her name." He glanced in the direction where they'd taken the little girl, as Agent Croft arrived to escort him to triage.

The nurse offered him a wan smile. "I'm sure we'll manage to set her right, Captain," she assured him, carefully not giving into the urge to ask if he would like to help her find her own arse with an atlas in the process. Giving a nod to Agent Croft, she moved away.
[size=9:7dea4b7eca][color=darkblue:7dea4b7eca][i:7dea4b7eca][b:7dea4b7eca]Prevention is preferable to cure.[/b:7dea4b7eca][/i:7dea4b7eca][/color:7dea4b7eca][/size:7dea4b7eca]

Lucy Rogers

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Re: Stay In My Arms
« Reply #1 on: November 28, 2012, 07:15:41 AM »
Croft sighed, disguising a yawn behind a hand. "This way, sir," he jerked his head toward the line of former staff offices that stretched away along the main corridor. "Is there anything you require that the doctor won't bite my head off for offering you?" Apparently the long hours were affecting the team spirit here at the makeshift hospital.

"Coffee, if you've got it," Steve replied as he followed along, one arm clutching his left side. "I wouldn't mind a sandwich either, if you can spare one." He couldn't quite remember when the last time was he'd eaten. It had to have been earlier in the day, but the days seemed to stretch on and last so long, it was hard to remember exactly. He didn't want to take any food that was meant for those less fortunate than himself, but if they had it to spare, he wouldn't decline the offer. His own mood was somber, weary beyond description, but there was still work to be done, and he wouldn't rest until he knew every soul in the city was safe.

"I'm sure that can be arranged, sir." Croft paused by an internal door, knocking to be sure no one was already inside, and pushed the door open. The office inside had been hastily converted into a private room with a bed and chair, and a free standing machine for taking basic observations. It wasn't the most inviting of spaces, but it was clean and the linens on the bed had been changed very recently. "Make yourself comfortable, sir, the doctor will be along as soon as she is free."

Steve nodded his head in appreciative acknowledgment as he stepped into the room, choosing the chair to the bed, as it was easier to get into and out of without hurting as much. He didn't make much of the sir; he'd become accustomed to that years ago when he was still serving in the military during the war, though he was now, all at once, one of the youngest and oldest to have attained the rank of Captain. "I'm not going anywhere, Agent." He'd recognized the uniform and knew he'd wandered into a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical unit, mostly by a stroke of sheer luck.

Croft nodded once again and left the room, closing the door behind himself. The makeshift med facility had been inundated with wounded and sick since it had been opened up, and without the sheer bloody-mindedness of some of the staff, they would not have been able to keep up. Unfortunately, that bloody-mindedness was beginning to take its toll on several people, not least of which were the doctors, who had been snatching twenty minute catnaps here and there for the last two days on and off. Thankfully, replacements were on route, and would soon arrive, but for now, Steve was going to be treated by a doctor who had been on duty for more than forty hours. She opened the door, all slender form in the blue uniform of S.H.I.E.L.D., armed with a sidearm and a stethoscope, turned to face her patient, and sagged back against the door.

"Oh, thank God." Dr Lucy Broderick marched across the room, cupped Captain Steve Roger's cheek in one hand, and planted on him the most fervent kiss she'd ever handed out in her lifetime. After all, how else do you tell someone just how much you have missed and worried after them over the course of twelve days?

Once the door was closed, Steve's eyes soon followed. Even if it was only a quick twenty winks, it was more sleep than he'd had in the last three days. It wasn't until he heard a familiar voice encroaching on his sleep - the last voice he'd expected to hear - that his eyes drifted open and he found himself being kissed by the last person he expected to see, confused and surprised, but not unpleasantly so. He muttered against Lucy's lips, lost in her kiss for a moment and wondering if he was only dreaming, reaching to touch her face, her hair, to make sure she was real. She was just as he remembered her - beautiful.

Slowly, her lips broke from his, and Lucy leaned back to get a decent look at the man she'd taken such a huge risk on. "So this is the mysterious day job, is it?" was her first comment, touched with fond amusement, followed with a slightly more concerned, "You look awful." She didn't look much better herself; there were deep bruises under her eyes, attesting to her lack of decent sleep, blood stains on her uniform, and a general air of exhaustion radiating from her. She moved to crouch between his knees, looking him over with a professional eye. "Where does it hurt?"

Blue eyes, weary with exhaustion, but as intelligent as ever, followed her movement, confusion obvious on his mud-smeared, tired face. He ignored her assessment of him, knowing he looked about as good as he felt, but she didn't look much better. "What are you doing here? How long have you been here?" That blue-eyed gaze took her in entirely, the weariness on her face, the relief in her eyes, the familiar blue uniform, along with a soldier's sidearm and a doctor's stethoscope.

"Why are you wearing a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform? Did they recruit you?" His jaw clenched in barely disguised anger. "Did Fury force you to join S.H.I.E.L.D. in exchange for information about me?" Despite his pain and weariness and the sheer joy of seeing her again, there was a barrage of questions flooding his brain.

She'd obviously been told he'd been favoring his left side when he came in, leaning forward to gently ease expert hands down over his ribs as she made a stab at answering his questions. "I'm here because I got wind of the storm coming and I knew you wouldn't be back in Rhy'Din anytime soon," she told him calmly, almost a different entity when she was at work. "I got here a little over two days ago, and S.H.I.E.L.D. picked me up, apparently because I've been on their books for a while and they wanted me to sign up anyway." She sighed, straightening up to try and seek out some fastening on his suit. "I need to listen to your chest, Steve. And no, no one forced me to do anything. This -" She gestured to the uniform, which worryingly enough suited her very well indeed. "This is only temporary, for the duration of the emergency response here and now. After that, I get to make the decision about staying involved myself, apparently."

He clenched his jaw as her fingers found the aching ribs he knew were more than likely cracked or broken. Fortunately, he was a fast healer, but it would still take time. They wouldn't mend over night. He caught her hand as she searched for a zipper or other fastening, all the anger going out of him, his expression softening, unable to hide the relief from his eyes, his voice catching in his throat as he spoke. "Is it really you, Lucy? I was afraid I'd never see you again."
[size=9:7dea4b7eca][color=darkblue:7dea4b7eca][i:7dea4b7eca][b:7dea4b7eca]Prevention is preferable to cure.[/b:7dea4b7eca][/i:7dea4b7eca][/color:7dea4b7eca][/size:7dea4b7eca]

Lucy Rogers

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Re: Stay In My Arms
« Reply #2 on: November 28, 2012, 07:19:59 AM »
She paused, the professional gliding aside to show him soft eyes and a smile that was ever so slightly tearful with relief on finding him in one piece and with relative ease. Her fingers turned in his grasp, caressing against his palm tenderly. "You didn't really think I was going to wait a full two weeks, did you?" she asked him gently. "I love you, Steve. I'm too selfish to let go of that, even for a little while."

"I told you I'd come for you, Luce. I meant to keep my promise." It hadn't been two weeks yet, and so they'd never know if he'd have kept it or not, but from the looks of things the last few days, it would have been a while yet before he'd have allowed himself to forgo his duty and think about his private life. "I thought you might have changed your mind," he quietly admitted his own fears, which were not so very different from hers, and he leaned closer, his heart racing in his chest, feeling as though it might sprout wings and fly at her declaration of love. "I love you, Lucy. I won't ever let you go." It was his turn to kiss her, a kiss as fervid as hers had been, just as full of love and longing.

"I know you did," she assured him. "But I was afraid ..." She trailed off as his fears, so similar to hers, came to light, foregoing her assessment of him to rest her forehead against his. "After Johnny told me about Captain America, I got scared that maybe I wasn't enough for you," she admitted herself, perching on the arm of the chair he sat in. "I came as soon as I could." His kiss silenced her, tendrils of her hair fallen free to tickle at his cheeks as his mouth claimed hers, as her fingers stroked lovingly against his jaw, offering him just the barest suggestion of tender sound to stifle with his affection. But she didn't linger too long, drawing back with a vaguely embarrassed look in her eyes. "But I need to assess you. Broken ribs are dangerous, baby - I need to get to skin to listen to your chest."

So, she at least knew who he was now, but it didn't seem to matter. She was here, nonetheless, and had said she loved him, even so. There were questions in his eyes, wondering what had happened after he'd left, just as she probably wondered the same about him, but there would be time for answers later, except for one question that couldn't wait, a question she'd asked him to save until she saw him again. The most important question a man could ever ask a woman.

His ribs could wait. They weren't going anywhere, though he knew he couldn't ignore them forever. Every breath was painful, every movement agonizing, but there was something more important at stake here, and he needed to know now. He reached for her hands, taking them between his own. "You told me to ask you again in New York. Will you marry me, Lucy? Would you be my wife? Please say yes," he pleaded, barely above a whisper, holding his breath while he awaited her answer.

She was in the midst of protesting against his delaying her diagnosis when the question sank into her overtired mind. Overtired and deeply relieved, her initial reaction probably wasn't quite what he was hoping for. She burst into tears. Not the delicate, pretty tears of your typical romantic heroine, oh no. These were hearty, blubbering sniffles that expressed her weariness and upset, relief and joy, all at once. She couldn't quite believe that, despite the pain he had to be in, he'd remembered that promise so quickly. "Of course I will, you stupid man," she heard herself sniff through the gale of weepy happiness, pulling one hand free to snatch up a tissue and at least try to dry her face a little. "But please let me look at you before you book the church."

For the first time in forever, he let someone else see his own tears brimming in his eyes and spilling over onto his cheeks, laughing with happiness even as his tears mirrored hers. He felt flooded with relief and happiness, mingled with pain and exhaustion, an emotional release after over a week of almost constantly driving himself nearly to the end of his mental and physical limits. "Is that a yes?" he continued, with a silly smile on his face, tears leaving streaks in the dirt and mud. If he wasn't in pain, he might have swept her off her feet and swung her around in circles, but that, too, would have to wait.

Lucy almost whimpered at his silly inability to understand plain English, cradling his jaw in her hands as she nuzzled to him. "Yes, it's a yes," she whispered to him through her calming tears, touching one kiss, two, against his lips. But abruptly, and not taking no for an answer this time, she snapped back into doctor-mode and slipped from the arm of the chair, reaching to unbuckle his belt and unfasten the clips holding the top part of his uniform to the bottom. "This is going to be painful to get off," she warned him, beginning the process of peeling the cloth upward over his bruised torso.

Almost distracted by the kiss, not to mention the bliss he was feeling at the answer to his question, he nonetheless couldn't help but wince as she started the process of peeling away the suit that S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided and had seemed to think was an improvement on the original he'd worn so many years before. He held his breath, but that only made the pain worse, and he wondered if he should stop trying to breathe at all. "I can't... remember when..." He trailed off, giving up on the attempt to explain, until the torture was over.

Wincing sympathetically, Lucy worked the skin-tight armored cloth up and over Steve's head, tossing it onto the bed like so much dirty rag as she unlooped her stethoscope from about her neck, breathing on the metal to warm it up. "Just breathe steadily for me," she told him, crouching once again to set the metal against his chest, listening carefully for any sign that his lungs had been damaged by the breaking of his ribs. She was fairly sure she wasn't supposed to feel this relieved when she didn't pick up anything but normal, healthy lung sounds, looping the stethoscope at her neck once again to lay her hands directly over the offending ribs. "What I wouldn't give for an X-ray right about now," she muttered to herself.

The uniform was pretty much a dirty rag by now anyway and needed a good cleaning as much as he did. What he wouldn't give for a hot bath right about now, but first things first, and his job wasn't through yet. Breathe steadily, he thought. You've gotta be kidding me. He breathed as steadily as he could, breaths catching painfully, but it didn't sound like there was any serious internal damage done. "I'll be fine, Luce. Just wrap me up and let me get back out there. I've got work to do." His shoulders tensed when he felt her fingers touch his side, steeling himself for the pain that was an inevitable response to her poking and prodding.

"If you go out and carry on with broken ribs, you'll end up puncturing your lungs and other vital organs, and then how much use do you think you'll be?" she informed him sternly. "I'm not going to tape those up, that'll do more harm than good. I am going to try and give you some pain medication, but God knows if it'll work. Whatever happens, you are resting for the remainder of the night, and I will check you again in the morning, Captain, are we clear?"
[size=9:7dea4b7eca][color=darkblue:7dea4b7eca][i:7dea4b7eca][b:7dea4b7eca]Prevention is preferable to cure.[/b:7dea4b7eca][/i:7dea4b7eca][/color:7dea4b7eca][/size:7dea4b7eca]

Lucy Rogers

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Re: Stay In My Arms
« Reply #3 on: November 28, 2012, 07:30:14 AM »
He frowned at her, but once again, knew when not to argue. He knew to argue with both his doctor and the woman who loved him was pointless. She'd win every time. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, relieved she was finished poking at him, at least for now, and too tired to argue, knowing he needed a good night's rest. With any luck, he'd feel well enough in the morning to be of more use than simply taking up space in a bed that was probably needed by someone else. "What about you, Doctor? You look like you could use some rest, too. You're not going to do anyone any good if you pass out on the job."

"I know I'm overtired," she agreed, opening up one of the pouches on her belt and withdrawing what were obviously three boluses of morphine. "It's just a matter of waiting for the replacements to get here before I can clock off for a bit." Her phrasing was telling; she only intended to rest for a short while. She expected her patient to do as he was told. "Has anyone tried you with morphine before?" she asked him curiously. "I figure your metabolism's so fast most painkillers barely touch the sides."

He eyed the morphine with a doubtful frown. "Don't waste it on me, Luce. It takes a lot to knock me out. It'll only take the edge off for a little while. I'm okay. I just need to rest." There were others who needed it more than he did. Little Molly, for example. He made a mental note to check on her later, when he was feeling better. "You're not gonna make me a science experiment, are you?" he asked, with a nervous smile, wondering if her curiosity was more than personal, but professional, as well. "I've kinda been a science experiment once in my life already."

"I don't want to knock you out, I want to take the edge off so you can sleep," she informed him with a faint smile. "I'll hold off until you've eaten, though. Croft said that's what he was up to when he shoved me in this direction." She leaned back against the end of the bed, her arms wrapped about her waist, not in any particular hurry to move on. Things were relatively quiet for now. "Why on Earth would I want to experiment on you? Well," she corrected herself, "medically, anyway. There are quite a few other experiments I'm looking forward to trying with you, but trust me, you'll enjoy them."

There was the impish edge to her smile, just in time for Agent Croft to step inside the room bearing a plate of stacked sandwiches and two large cups of coffee. "Replacement personnel have arrived, Dr Broderick," he told Lucy as he set his little offering down on the table. "I believe you are required for handing over patients, after which your time is your own until the shift changes at ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

Steve smiled at the implication in Lucy's threat, which wasn't really much of a threat at all, and a faint blush rose to his cheeks as Agent Croft stepped into the room, not because he was only half-clothed, but because of Lucy's persistent flirtation. He hoped Croft hadn't overheard, or it might get around and he'd never hear the end of it. His gaze drifted to the sandwiches and coffee, as if just realizing how hungry he was. His heightened metabolism required more fuel than a normal human's, and his had been running on near empty for a while. He wasn't worried about the coffee, caffeine having about as much effect on his ability to sleep as alcohol did. "Croft, you're a lifesaver," he remarked, thanking the agent for the meager but ample meal.

"Pleasure to serve with you, sir." Croft might have saluted, were he not holding the door open in the expectation of having Lucy walk out with him.

She sighed, rolling her eyes with a smile. "I'll be back," she promised Steve, moving over to the door. "Since I'm apparently off-duty now," was added to Croft who waited for her to be out of the way before flashing Steve a faint grin.

"Sir, my superiors are requesting that you keep Dr Broderick from returning to work until mid-morning tomorrow," he mentioned as tactfully as possible, though it was probable that giving that job to Steve meant he couldn't go anywhere until he was mostly healed anyway. "She has been on-duty for over forty hours now."

"I'll do my best, Agent," Steve replied, unable to hide the small smirk that was forming at his lips. He wasn't quite sure who Croft meant by his superiors or how high that order had come down, but he had a feeling Lucy wasn't about to leave him here alone, if she had anything to say about it anyway. Steve offered the salute that Croft seemed reluctant to give, sending him on his way, so that Lucy could finish taking care of business and rejoin him as soon as she was able.

From the look on the agent's face, that salute had made his week. The door closed behind him, leaving Steve in the quiet for roughly twenty minutes before Lucy reappeared, stepping through and quite deliberately locking the door behind her. "All right, what did he say?" she asked Steve, one brow risen as she smiled a little too knowingly. "Have you been ordered to tie me to the bed or something?" As she spoke, she was undoing the holster and belt at her waist and thigh, setting it away from her along with the various little bits and pieces any doctor carries.

He hadn't eaten the sandwich yet, though he'd taken a few sips of the coffee before giving in to sleep, unable to fight the heaviness in his head and his eyelids. His head was tilted to one side, looking far younger than his years, when she slipped back into the room, her voice stirring him from sleep. "Hmm?" he asked, drowsily. He blinked to clear his vision as he watched her strip off the accessories that adorned her waist and thigh. "He wants me to keep you busy 'til morning. Probably wants you to do the same thing with me."

She laughed, yawning through the merry sound as she unzipped the jumpsuit she'd been pressed into a couple of days before, sliding it to her waist and letting it hang there. Thankfully for Steve's peace of mind, there was a black camisole beneath it hiding the assets he was rather more familiar with than the traditional good boy should be. "You need to eat," she reminded him, taking up a perch on the arm of his chair again. "Then you can sleep."
[size=9:7dea4b7eca][color=darkblue:7dea4b7eca][i:7dea4b7eca][b:7dea4b7eca]Prevention is preferable to cure.[/b:7dea4b7eca][/i:7dea4b7eca][/color:7dea4b7eca][/size:7dea4b7eca]

Lucy Rogers

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Re: Stay In My Arms
« Reply #4 on: November 28, 2012, 07:34:36 AM »
His eyes followed her, though his head stayed in one place, too tired to move. "You expect me to eat when you're wearing that?" he asked, incredulously, his eyes moving over her admiringly. "God, I've missed you," he whispered, his voice quietly betraying the emotions behind the mere words.

"I know. I missed you, too." It was a soft acknowledgement of the pain that had haunted her during their separation, a pain she'd barely touched on for her sister's peace of mind but that now had lifted almost entirely. Curling an arm about his shoulders, she touched a fond kiss to his hairline, reaching across for one of his sandwiches. "If you don't eat these, I will," she threatened, taking a bite and grinning down at him. "Food, then sleep. If you can stretch your arms up without wincing in the morning, then you can think about renewing your newest skillset."

"My newest skillset?" he asked curiously, as he watched her snag one of his sandwiches, not afraid to share, before it occurred to him what she meant, and he flushed a little, despite his pale and weary complexion. "Anyone ever tell you you've got a one track mind?" he asked, wincing just a little as he reached for the last sandwich.

She chuckled, stroking her fingertips through his hair. "Not recently," was her gently teasing admission through a small mouthful. "Besides, I've had all those lovely detailed memories of what you can do in a single night preying on my mind for the last ten days or so. You can't blame a girl for wondering what you can do if you don't have a time limit." She grinned down at him, nuzzling a second kiss to his forehead before returning her attention to her filched sandwich. "I love you." Strange how it had been so hard to say that night, and yet today she'd said it over and over and each time it meant more than the last.

He eyed her in amazement, wondering if she remembered he'd been very inexperienced in the ways of love when she'd met him, and he wasn't much more experienced now. "I had a good teacher, I guess," he replied, a little embarrassed. The truth was he'd just let instinct take over and had hoped he didn't make a fool of himself. Though a quick learner, making love was not a skill he felt very confident about just yet. He did have the advantage of not wearing out easily, however. He'd proven that much already.

"You're a natural," she promised him, tender in her praise. It wasn't just about the physicality between them, or getting her hands all over him once again. Right now, they had limited time together, both of them required to keep working until their services were no longer needed, and that one track mind he'd accused her of having knew that the best way to reaffirm the claim they had on one another was to enjoy that intimacy once again. Finishing the last bite of her sandwich, she moved to rise once again, bending to begin the task of unlacing her boots. "But I need to sleep, and as your doctor, I'm telling you to get some sleep, too," she told him, watching him carefully for the signs that he was in pain.

He took a bite of his sandwich, scarfing it up quickly, hungrier than he thought once he got started. It wasn't enough to fill his stomach, but it was enough to satisfy his hunger for now. "You won't leave me, will you?" he asked, blue eyes tracking her movement, the question betraying his feelings of loneliness, having missed her as much as, if not more, than she'd missed him. He wasn't quite sure what their sleeping arrangements were going to be, and he'd purposely remained as still as possible while he sat in that chair, every movement, no matter how slight, agonizing.

She looked up sharply as she toed out of her boots, dark eyes boring into his as she took note of the loneliness in him that still lingered, afraid to accept that she was here for good. Pausing, she took a moment to send a thought into the void for her sister's lover. Thank you for warning me, Johnny. "No, I'm not going anywhere," she promised Steve. "I'm getting ready to sleep, in this bed, with you." Her lips quirked a little as she noted how still he was sitting. "Which is also why I'm going to overdose you on morphine once you're in the bed, so me lying down next to you doesn't make you pass out."

He couldn't help but smirk at the way she phrased that warning. "You think you have that kind of effect on me, Doctor Broderick? That I'll just swoon in your presence?" It was heartening to know he had a sense of humor lurking inside him somewhere. "I've thought of you every day since I left. I can't get you out of my head." Or my heart, he thought to himself, wishing she'd have come with him, but it no longer mattered. She was here now, and he wasn't losing her again. He took another gulp of the coffee to wash the sandwich down and set the cup down, frowning at the way his hand was shaking.

"Well, I am naturally devastatingly stunning up close," she drawled back at him with a smile, sliding the rest of her jumpsuit off and laying it to one side with the rest of her uniform. It was going to take a while to get used to that thing, but she had a nasty feeling she was going to have plenty of time to do that in. Seeing his hand shaking, she moved over to him, curling her fingers about his. "We're going to undress you as gently as we can," she told him, "but it's still going to hurt." Her lips brushed his as she moved to kneel between his thighs once again, her hands lowering to his boots. "You know, these have completely changed my personal opinion of what makes a good F*ck Me boot."

He arched a brow as he watched her fumble with his boots, unable to help her, knowing that bending over was out of the question. He would have been happy to just sleep with them on, if she hadn't insisted that they had to come off. It made little difference to him. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, never having heard that particular turn of phrase before and unsure just what it meant.

She glanced up at him, in the process of easing his boots off one at a time with surprisingly little pressure put on his legs or the muscles holding him upright about his ribs. "Oh, it's a phrase that's sort of popular," she chuckled softly. "I'm not sure where it came from - I came across it in the 1990's, when it was fashionable for girls who were going out specifically to hook up with someone at random for the night would wear mini skirts and knee high boots. It was sort of a calling card; if you were wearing the boots, you were looking for someone to f*ck. It's sort of mutated into a random descriptive phrase for boots in general, now."
[size=9:7dea4b7eca][color=darkblue:7dea4b7eca][i:7dea4b7eca][b:7dea4b7eca]Prevention is preferable to cure.[/b:7dea4b7eca][/i:7dea4b7eca][/color:7dea4b7eca][/size:7dea4b7eca]

Lucy Rogers

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Re: Stay In My Arms
« Reply #5 on: November 28, 2012, 07:39:06 AM »
"Mini skirts?" he asked, unfamiliar with that phrase, as well, though he could put two and two together enough to sort it out. Had things changed that much in seventy years? From what he'd seen of the world so far, they had and then some. He flushed a little again at her blunt way of explaining it. Gentlemen didn't generally cuss in front of ladies where he came from. He certainly didn't anyway. Oh, he might utter a hell or a damn every now and then, but that was about the extent of it. He cleared his throat, growing more nervous the closer she got to the removal of his pants. "I, um... Don't think those are what my boots are made for."

She smiled, charmed by the innocence in him compared with her somewhat hardened contemporary view of the world. "I know," she assured him. "But one of these days, I'll show you what a mini skirt and a good pair of boots really looks like, and you'll know exactly what I'm talking about." She rose up onto her feet, gesturing for him to stand. "Come on, up you get. We need to get the pants off before you can get onto the bed."

"I can sleep with them on, you know," he told her, not really feeling like moving, his body feeling as heavy as a rock now that he was off his feet. "I can sleep anywhere." That much was true. As a soldier, he'd learned to sleep just about anywhere, like her, catching a few hours sleep here and there whenever he could squeeze it in. He knew she wasn't going to take no for an answer, however, and clutching his injured side, he forced himself to his feet, his face paling at the effort.

"Why do that unless you have to?" she pointed out gently, standing back to give him the time and space to get himself up and let the pain ease off once again before she returned to him. Clever fingers found the fastening of his pants decidedly more quickly, but rather than pull them down straight away, she took his hands, leading him over to the bed. "You have a bed, you have privacy, and you have a willing helper. Make the most of it, love." Rising onto her toes, she touched her lips to his as her fingers slipped inside his pants, easing them down just far enough that he wasn't going to trap them underneath himself when he sat down.

"I'm not used to..." His voice trailed off as she led him toward the bed and smothered his words in a kiss, too tired to argue, both of them exhausted beyond reckoning. God, he hoped the morphine worked, even for a little while, just long enough for his body to start mending on its own. She was right. The door was locked, and they were alone. It was unlikely anyone would bother them until morning, unless there was an emergency. He let her help him with his pants, unable to really do it himself, unless he fought against the pain, and he had a feeling she wasn't going to let him do anything tonight but give in to sleep.

"Get used to it," Lucy suggested pointedly as she carefully guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling to slip his pants completely free of his legs. "It's called being in a relationship. You need to let me look after you now and then, okay?" Her fingers caressed his cheek gently for a moment before she turned away, taking up the three boluses and a sealed IV catheter. "Ready for this?"

He was used to taking care of himself and had been since his mother had died. It felt strange to let someone else take care of him for a change. He slowly eased himself back on the bed, watching as she prepared the morphine for injection. Needles didn't bother him so much, not anymore, so long as no one was trying to experiment on him. "Yeah, I'm ready," he assured her, bracing himself for the inevitable.

It was just one needle, and it was only there so she could insert the plastic catheter that was tucked inside that needle. With swift skill, Lucy flushed the IV catheter through and secured it in place, steadily using it to inject thirty milligrams of morphine into her lover's system before closing off the catheter once again. She twisted, dropping the needle and empty boluses into a nearby sharps container, and looked back at Steve thoughtfully. "Did that help at all?"

"Dunno yet. How fast is it supposed to work?" Though the difference seemed almost imperceptible to him, his speech was slurred just a little and his eyes were getting heavy. "You know what it feels like to be Rip Van Winkle, Luce?" he asked her sleepily. "Wake up and nothing's the same. The world has changed, moved on without you..."

She watched as his eyes turned just a little unfocused, hearing the slurred edge to his speech, and nodded to herself. "It's working," she assured him. "Lie down, get comfortable." As he murmured sleepily, she rounded the end of the bed, sliding between the sheets beside him and drawing the blanket up over them both. She had no idea who Rip Van Winkle was, but she knew one thing. "That's never going to happen again," she promised him softly, settling at his side. She dared not curl up to him tonight; any pressure could negate the morphine's effects on his physionomy. "Whatever happens, I promise you there is going to be at least one constant in your life from here on in. Me."

It hurt to move, to use his abdominal muscles to lay back, but not as badly as it had before she'd dosed him. He knew it wouldn't last long; it never did, but maybe it would last long enough that he could get a few good hours of sleep. He smiled at her reassurance, drawing comfort from her presence. "You say the sweetest things," he slurred, almost as if he was drunk, though that was next to impossible. He wasn't quite sure how much she knew about him, but she seemed to know quite a bit, and still here she was, at his side, claiming to love him. He felt oddly content for some reason, but whether it was the morphine or her presence or both he wasn't quite sure, nor did it matter. "Lucy Rogers has a certain ring to it, don't you think?" he asked, sleepily.

"Much nicer than Lucy Broderick," she agreed, and if there was an edge to her voice as she said her accustomed surname, he was in no condition to notice it. She tucked the blankets around him, leaning over to lay a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Sleep, baby. I'll be here when you wake up."

He let his eyes drift closed finally, her promise to be there when he awoke the last thing he heard before his mind drifted off to sleep. Though he'd slept for nearly seventy years, it was time to sleep just a little bit more, knowing that when he awoke, Lucy would be right there by his side, not only for this night but every night from here on in. He wasn't ever letting her go again, no matter what.

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((So, what next for the lovebirds? How exactly do you maintain a relationship while working for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Tune in next time to find out a little more! And, of course, massive fantabulous humungus magniflorious thank yous to Steve's player!))[/size]
[size=9:7dea4b7eca][color=darkblue:7dea4b7eca][i:7dea4b7eca][b:7dea4b7eca]Prevention is preferable to cure.[/b:7dea4b7eca][/i:7dea4b7eca][/color:7dea4b7eca][/size:7dea4b7eca]