Heck, I always wanted to be one, how'd you know? I should rethink my entire career strategy.
[ still sassing her, although he'd been good in school; could've probably taken an honest stab at medical school if he'd been so inclined, but he hadn't. his interests hadn't lain in that direction. instead, the war had called, and james had answered.
and in said war, they'd had to bite through thread with their teeth when knives or shears weren't close to hand, but today he's able to snip through it neatly with a pair of small scissors. the man cleans off the now-stitched-up wound one last time with the washcloth for good measure, and then presses a gauze pad against it, his hand splayed across yelena's side and heavy against her hip. it rests there for a second, the weight pressing the adhesive around the edges down. it's the only reason. sure.
after a moment, he digs around in the first aid kit with his free hand, and lightly tosses her a bottle of pills. ]
You really shouldn't mix alcohol with painkillers, but I'll bust out the vodka for you anyway. No wonder I didn't actually become a doctor. Not responsible enough.
[ the work is done, but bucky's still sitting too close, and suddenly aware of it now that he doesn't have the sutures to focus on anymore: instead he's too-aware of his knee against hers, their thighs pressed close together, the heat of her proximity. he clears his throat. fusses with the kit and starts setting all the supplies back, each item in its tidy place in the box. it's a distraction; a way to keep his hands busy. ]
And I'm not sure about exciting. All I've got here is like... late-night soap operas and Nick at Nite.
no subject
[ still sassing her, although he'd been good in school; could've probably taken an honest stab at medical school if he'd been so inclined, but he hadn't. his interests hadn't lain in that direction. instead, the war had called, and james had answered.
and in said war, they'd had to bite through thread with their teeth when knives or shears weren't close to hand, but today he's able to snip through it neatly with a pair of small scissors. the man cleans off the now-stitched-up wound one last time with the washcloth for good measure, and then presses a gauze pad against it, his hand splayed across yelena's side and heavy against her hip. it rests there for a second, the weight pressing the adhesive around the edges down. it's the only reason. sure.
after a moment, he digs around in the first aid kit with his free hand, and lightly tosses her a bottle of pills. ]
You really shouldn't mix alcohol with painkillers, but I'll bust out the vodka for you anyway. No wonder I didn't actually become a doctor. Not responsible enough.
[ the work is done, but bucky's still sitting too close, and suddenly aware of it now that he doesn't have the sutures to focus on anymore: instead he's too-aware of his knee against hers, their thighs pressed close together, the heat of her proximity. he clears his throat. fusses with the kit and starts setting all the supplies back, each item in its tidy place in the box. it's a distraction; a way to keep his hands busy. ]
And I'm not sure about exciting. All I've got here is like... late-night soap operas and Nick at Nite.