crisonacross - Tumblr blog

crisonacross · 2 months ago

Note

OMG YESSSS FINALLY

anything john walker x reader as long as its gender neutral PLEASE i am BEGGING because its ALL F READER

gotcha <3

no second chances. john walker.

summary: it was supposed to be a simple, easy mission. until you step on a landmine and john walker loses his shit. things go awry from there.

pairing: john walker x gn!reader

warnings: heavy angst, fluff, swearing, explosion, description of burns, kissing, walker being a nice asshole

word count: 5.1k

notes: it's been SO LONG since i've written shit, and thank you to anon for requesting this because i swear i wish we had more gn!fics. this is pretty angsty but i think it's alright. more to come! have fun reading <3

The mission was already half-insane, and you hadn’t even gotten there yet.

You were stuck in the back of a jeep thundering toward some dusty estate in the woods — next to John Walker, of all people.

John Walker was someone you... tolerated, to say the least. You could say far more, but that would probably summon your fifth grade English teacher who would proceed to smack you on the head for speaking such filth.

No, that was a lie, you swore plenty already. You just did not want to bother yourself further with more thoughts about that abomination of a man.

Mostly because it often led somewhere else you truly wished to avoid at all costs.

Proximity wasn't quite helping in this case, because with the way the vehicle was moving over the rocks and bumps on the way, you were colliding into the big guy like there was no tomorrow.

It would've been fine if it was anyone else, honestly, maybe Yelena, or Bob, or even Alexei (or not, on second thought), but when it was Walker, the constant knocking of knees and your arm rubbing up against his with every jerk of the jeep was deeply irritating and mildly—

No, you weren't going to use actual words to describe the weird tug in your stomach at every contact. Nope.

Why? Because you hated him, for fuck's sake, and how infuriatingly tall he was, and that big mouth he was running, even now.

"—simple recon, nothing wild. Just in, eyes on the target, out. Val says we plant three nano-cams—one facing the south gate, one above the garage, and one in the courtyard if we can reach it. Gotta log the angles and anything that looks… off."

"You're telling me all this as if I didn't fucking read the file, Walker," you said flatly, looking at him with a look of severe judgment.

Walker responded with an offended expression, and scoffed.

“Just trying to make sure you keep up," he said, feigning casualness.

“With what? Your ego?”

That wiped the smirk off his face for a bit, but it was back in seconds —the cocky tilt of his mouth.

“Cute. I forget you think you’re funny," he said, and you shrugged.

“I forget you think you’re useful.”

"Could do better with that one," he said, and you wanted nothing more than to smash one of the hard nano-cam pouches into his head. You didn’t, obviously.

Mostly because your fingers were currently gripping the cam pouch like a stress ball. But also because—God help you—this wasn’t the time.

The gravel under the jeep’s tires shifted, and the darkness outside deepened. You exhaled slowly, pressing your thumb to your temple.

"Walker, listen," you said, this time quieter. More serious.

He spared a glance in your direction, and you took that as permission.

"I don't want you walking in there like this is a solo mission." You rubbed the side of your forehead, the words firm. "Don't do that again. Not this time."

Walker lifted his eyes to just stare at you, his jaw clenching.

"Don't trust me?" It sounded oddly empty, the question. You sighed, shaking your head.

"Sometimes you get reckless—"

"Yet it gets the job done."

"What if it doesn't this time?"

He stayed silent. Then uttered something under his breath you couldn't quite catch.

"We need to work together," you emphasised, "as a team."

But it seemed that was the end of his responses. Of course it was. He still believed, probably, with all his heart that he was the leader of this mission, and had to take full responsibility, despite having a very capable teammate.

There was nothing more you could do. Not until you reached the location, anyway.

"Whatever," you muttered, as your shoulder crashed once again into his during a particularly tricky turn.

Yelena's voice crackled through the talkie holstered at your hip. You felt a wave of relief wash over you. Thank god, it was getting awkward.

"Hello? Am I coming through?"

"Loud and clear," you said, grabbing it and raising it to your face. "I assume we’re close?"

"Yes. Another 700 meters and you’ll hit the estate’s south fence. Visuals show no guards outside, but the man has got layers. Heat sensors, drones, maybe mines. All kind of paranoid war veteran tech."

You grimaced. “Right. Creepy ex-general with a trigger finger and a god complex. Totally normal recon mission.”

“Tell me about it. Drop the cams, tag the perimeter, don’t get blown up.“

"Unless Sir Hyper-independent here decides to switch things up," you muttered, jerking your head toward Walker without looking. A little smirk tugged at your mouth.

You weren’t looking, but you could feel Walker resisting the urge to say something back. Sweet, sweet victory.

"I heard that," he grumbled.

"Good."

"Anyway," Yelena continued, dryly, "keep each other alive. I’m not flying in to collect limbs. Buzz control if shit goes sideways. Over.”

"...Copy that."

The line went static.

Walker still looked mildly constipated, but you ignored him, closing your eyes and leaning your head back on the tough back cushion, going over the exact plan as accurately as you could.

All you could hear was his shuffling, and impatient breaths, his fiddly taps on the taco shield on his arm, and an occasional clearing of his throat every time your head accidentally lolled towards his side.

Minutes later, the jeep came to a rash stop. You had reached the old cottagehouse and the sprawling acres surrounding it.

“Jesus, this took a minute,” Walker grunted as he stood up, stretched as best as he could (that’s what being 6’2’’ got you, hah) and put his stupid beret on. You just watched, snorting.

“You gettin’ ready for a model shoot?”

Walker scowled, which only made him look more stupid. You had to hold back a giggle.

“Get your ass up,” he spat, and you hated that those words created a reaction in you and had you obeying with minimal delay, shooting straight up. Embarrassing.

“Jeez, don’t get your thongs in a bunch,” you grumbled, and he flashed you a questioning look.

“You mean panties.”

You smirked, looking at him from the corner of your eye as you gathered up the two pouches and twisted your gun into the holster. “Yeah, but I bet you’d wear thongs.”

The man looked visibly rattled as he blushed, trying to cover up any signs of weakness with a scoff and a glare.

Opening the jeep’s back, the both of you stepped out, when Walker snatched the pouches out of your hand.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, attempting to get it back from him but he simply swatted you away, dodging your extended arms and tossing the pouches hand to hand.

"What the fuck, Walker?!"

"I'm gonna need you to stay back and keep a watch on the perimeter," he instructed, still keeping the pouches far from you. "Not letting you walk into an absolute maniac's backyard."

Oh, he was fucking doing it again, the bastard.

You slapped his back, hard, managing to catch up when he flinched and stumbled, before grabbing one of the bags from him.

"Didn’t think you'd feel that one," you said, grinning. Walker shot you a look, but it was one of the rarer types. The ones that made you feel a little sick.

Always looked like he cared, when his brows slanted and his extra blue eyes gained clarity. In your dreams. Wait, no.

"This isn't a joke," he hissed, and his gaze was frighteningly steady.

"I just want you to work with me," you replied, not breaking eye contact.

"We will be. Just listen to me. I just–"

"Just need me to stand in the sidelines while you do the heavy duty shit?" you interrupted, clicking your tongue, feeling a little less jolly now.

"Walker, we were paired for a reason. We both know I can handle those cams better and not accidentally snap them 'cause I wasn't careful."

Walker's eyes flashed, fixed on you, teeth grit. He looked like he was on the edge of the kind of anger you usually knew better than to poke.

"...Please, Walker," you said, softer this time, hoping he’d budge even a little, and to your surprise, he did. Something in his demeanor changed, his shoulders relaxing, his grip on the pouch turning loose.

The walkie sputtered once more and Yelena's voice came through.

"Guys, is everything okay?"

"It's been 4 minutes since you reached the location, you dunces, what the hell's going on?"

Ah, looks like Val was there too.

Walker yanked the walkie from your hip and clicked in. “We’re getting to it,” he said, tone already edged with annoyance.

Val’s voice came through sharp, shrill, and relentless, like a crow on espresso.

Walker didn’t let her finish. “Just give us time,” he snapped, then tossed the device at you without a glance. You caught it, barely.

He wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead straight at the side wall of the house a considerable number of feet away, but you could tell he was still uncertain, tense– still wrestling with your words, your plea.

You were about to say something more, when he looked over his shoulder at you, and you could hear him mumble something like ‘stubborn’ in this weird tone, not quite annoyed, not quite fond either, but something in between, before he began to walk.

“I’m still keeping one though,” he said, voice taut, waving the pouch in his hand around as he did, and you couldn’t help the relieved chuckle that escaped your mouth, glad he decided to listen to you for once as you followed in his wake.

As much as it was the bare minimum, it was still oddly satisfying in the way your cheeks flushed just a little.

You began to walk forward, not fully in time with him considering his long-ass legs, but fast enough to be just a foot or two behind him at all times.

You maintained a straight line, when you stepped on what felt like a particularly hard rock.

At that exact moment there was a click, a beep and when you looked down, heart sinking, there was a faint red glow emitting from the side of your boot sole.

Oh, fuck, no. No. Shit.

There was only about another fifteen metres to the house’s fence. So close.

Walker, despite looking very focused on the task at hand, noticed that your presence was lacking. He turned just slightly, a little bewildered at why you were just... standing there.

You could see him wave his hands in confusion and mouth 'What's the holdup?!' and all you could do was take a big, shaky breath and point at your foot.

He frowned, looking exasperated as he redirected his gaze. Then he saw the light, and the way your leg was stiff and unmoving, and you could see grim realisation dawn on his face.

Slowly, he walked back to where you were. He looked pale, paler than he usually did in the moonlight. His eyes remained on your foot.

"...Landmine," he whispered, and the finality in his voice dropped like a rock into your stomach. Your fears had been confirmed.

"Walker," you started, but then your throat went dry and you couldn't finish the rest of the sentence. What would you even say?

You could see the cogs turn in his head as he removed the shield from his arm and dropped it aside along with the cam pouch. He tugged the one in your hand too, and threw it away.

Then he scanned around the spot on the ground, his knees locked, as if he was scared even kneeling down might cause the mine to completely detonate. His eyes glazed over in thought, but both of you knew.

You couldn’t really disarm a mine. Not after activating it.

You lost your voice to the thought of it— dying. Like this.

Because of a goddamn landmine.

Because of that idiot ex-general.

Because luck decided you’d used up all your chances.

Not when you’d just redeemed yourself. And as much as you joked about dying early, it couldn’t happen this way.

“Walker,” you called again, hesitating as your hand softly patted on his arm. It took you three tries to fully get his attention, but his eyes still wouldn’t meet yours, and it was getting frustrating.

“Walker, listen to me.”

“I’d rather figure out how to get you out of here.”

You could only stay silent in response to this. There was no getting you out. Not unless this was a dud, which was mostly just wishful thinking.

“Look, just– what kind of mine is it?” you asked, the least that could be figured out, and Walker nodded.

“Hold on.”

You marvelled at how he managed to keep his voice steady. You joked internally that he didn’t care enough to get emotional.

But you saw the way his jaw clenched, how his breath stalled in his chest. The way his hands didn’t quite know where to go.

This wasn’t detachment. It was control, or the likes of it. And he was losing it, slowly. Steadily.

You breathed like the oxygen around you was loaned, chest hurting from the way you held it tight.

You watched, transfixed as he finally knelt down, movements as slow as a hawk watching its prey, and all you could think of was keeping that foot planted like there was no tomorrow.

He came back up a minute later, swallowing hard as he mumbled, “Soviet-style. Steel jacket. Fragmentation type. Might not be reliable anymore.”

“Oh,” you said, nodding blankly. “Might not?”

“Which means you either survive, or… it kills you outright.”

Oh. Right.

Didn’t even make sense for you to be so surprised. What else were you expecting?

“Jesus,” you muttered, your voice barely at bay. Your fingers were beginning to tremor just slightly, and you could hear your own heartbeat. Hell, you could feel it.

You needed to hold onto something, anything – something to ground you. Your feet were already going numb.

“I told you to stay behind,” Walker said, suddenly. There was no anger. Just… hurt.

“I– I know, but we’re a team, and I–”

“If you’d listened, we wouldn’t be here. WIth you, standing on a fucking…”

He didn’t complete the sentence. Instead, he practically ripped his beret off his head, harshly shoving it into his belt, before running his fingers through his dirty golden hair.

For the first time in a long time, he looked confused.

For some reason, that hurt far more than the realization that you were most probably going to die.

The sky remained dark, but time was slipping by. Neither of you knew how much had passed.

Suddenly, the mission wasn’t the ex-general anymore.

It was you.

The realization was really fucking with Walker's head, it was painfully obvious. You wanted to reach out, comfort him, but right now it looked like he might just do something violent if you tried.

Your forgotten walkie crackled to life, this time with Bucky's voice.

"Team. Status?"

Neither of you replied. Walker swallowed, hands on his hips as his head stayed low.

You took the walkie in hand albeit with extreme caution.

"We're... there's a situation."

"Seriously? What is it?"

"I– I stepped on an active land– landmine."

Saying it out loud only made you want to laugh, simply because of how absurd it sounded.

But the laugh didn't quite bubble out as one- it was a little more of a sob.

Walker looked up at the sound instantly, his eyebrows perking as his eyes tethered to your face.

Looks like the fear was finally leaking out of you.

There was silence on the other end for a good 30 seconds, until Bucky finally spoke again.

"We're sending backup. Can.. is it possible to disarm it?"

Taking the walkie from your hand, Walker replied, "Not really, Bucky. It… It's more of a 'try or die' situation."

You were feeling a little tired now. The churning in your stomach was making you feel exceedingly sick, and your fingers felt unlike yours. Like they belonged to another body.

"I'll take care of it. Of..." He didn't complete. He just cleared his throat, let out a heavy breath, then said, "Just send the backup. Medic, most importantly."

The tenor in Bucky's voice matched Walker's. It was the gravest you'd heard it.

"...Be safe. Both of you."

You sniffled—just a little—and Walker immediately tossed the walkie aside, all his focus shifting back to you.

"Okay, I need you to listen to me very carefully now," he said, in a tone that caught you by such surprise you forgot you were even standing on a fucking mine.

"Look at me."

Oh.

You did as he asked, and part of the immediate compliance stemmed from you just wanting to hear him speak in that voice again. And he did.

"We're gonna get through this."

"Are we?"

"Yes, we are."

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes tight momentarily, bracing your heart for whatever the hell was going to happen next.

As long as it kept beating.

"We need to shift the weight from you to something-- something else, alright?"

You nodded, your brain already resetting to plan mode. "Like-"

"My shield," he said, taking a glance at the taco-shaped hunk of metal on the ground.

"Would.. Would that work?"

"It should. In theory."

"Bob would be proud," you said, the joke slipping past your lips despite the situation, and Walker just glared at you.

"Not now."

"Sorry."

"...it's okay. Let's just focus on getting you out of this alive to make dumb jokes after today."

"Yeah. Right." You felt a little embarrassed. Oh, how silly these things felt right now.

Then Walker looked at you with eyes you wished he gave you the times you weren't in life threatening danger, and stepped as close as he could without disturbing the mine.

He rested a hand over your arm, and said "Look at me," again, and it took you everything to not start crying on the spot.

"We can do this." He looked like he believed every word of that sentence.

You didn't.

"I'm scared, John."

The name—his name—felt strange in your mouth. It made your voice shake. Your hands too. You cringed the second it came out, but then he squeezed your arm tighter.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

You hung onto every word of that sentence, chanting those words in the back of your head, over and over. Anything to keep you from losing consciousness.

Then he nodded once, as if he was reassuring himself.

"Okay," he said, softly. "Ready?"

You had no choice but to nod. It was now or never.

Walker crouched, grabbing the shield and sliding his arm into the leather straps, before placing his hand on the side of your knee.

“When I tell you, just slide your leg off the mine, okay? Slowly. No sudden movements.”

“John–”

“Trust me.”

“...Okay,” you eventually breathed out.

“Hold on.”

The shield scraped against the grassy dirt as he moved it, slow and steady, his hands working like those of a surgeon as the metal clicked against the edge of the mine.

“Shit,” he said lowly, and you saw his jaw flex. “Okay, here goes.”

Oh, shit, it was getting real. Oh, fuck.

You refrained from saying any of that out loud.

“Now,” Walker said, voice as anchored as his grip on the shield, “Slide your foot off in par with me.”

So you did exactly as he said, your foot inching off with extreme caution, while the curve of his shield followed, until it was entirely off, and now it was just Walker, bent over, shield braced in one hand as it pressed tight against the active mine.

You were too overwhelmed to find solid footing—you stumbled back, legs failing to hold you, and dropped nearly three feet away, ass hitting the grass with a loud thud.

Oh, god, you were alive and breathing.

But before you could even register this fully, light flickered behind your heads, and there was a distinct sound of shuffling coming from inside the cottage-house.

Panic seemed to rise as quickly as it had fallen.

"John, we need to leave, like... right now." You looked over your shoulder, and it was clear the old, dangerous man was awake.

"Stay back," he replied curtly. Actually, he wasn't even replying. It was a very out of the blue statement. It sounded ominous.

"John, what the hell are you--"

"Just stay back, please."

Then you saw it. His shoulders squared, toes digging into the sand as if preparing to sprint.

His knees raised, and you were already running towards him.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot-

Just as the shield lifted, you lunged– arms locking around his waist, twisting with all your might in the air.

And then–

BOOM.

The entire world was swallowed by fire, and white hot light, and the pungent smell of singed leather.

Then.. skin.

You could feel the heat lick at your back, through the layers, and it hurt like a bitch. Everything burned, searing. You felt so lost, so unconscious, yet every nerve seemed to flare with pain. But you could still feel him under you, your arms still tight around him, head falling over his neck, so close you could feel his breathing on your face.

He was alive. He was alive.

You were too, mostly, but you wished you weren't, because the pain of blistering skin was truly agony. You took in two, three stifled breaths, just to make sure.

You let go, collapsing to his side, his face swimming into your blurred vision. The mud touched your back and you yelped, yanking yourself onto your side again by holding onto Walker's arm.

He was looking at you with dazed eyes, but you could see his disapproval, and his surprise somewhere behind those eyelids.

"You're a fucking idiot," he rasped.

"You too," you choked out.

Then the world went dark.

“Second degree burns, both of you. We’ve removed the shrapnel and patched you up, and it’ll take a while to heal, but give it a few weeks and you’ll be alright.”

The doctor nodded to the both of you, wearing a little bit of a judgmental expression.

“You’re lucky that mine was faulty. Only reason you’re even awake right now.”

She waved her pen in the air, then turned to discuss something with the secondary.

“We’re gonna be back in a few. Don’t do anything stupid,” she said dryly, and the docs stepped out, the door sliding close behind them.

You were seated upright in your bed, a med gown wound loosely over you. The covered and treated burns still stung, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been when you were first carried in here.

According to Yelena (who was thoroughly pissed that you managed to fail every objective), before the old man could get to actually killing you, backup had arrived, he’d been dealt with momentarily, and you’d reached the Watchtowers safely– relatively speaking.

Walker was sitting opposite you, both legs bandaged. He’d experienced burns mostly there, but a few minor burns on the stomach as well.

Both of you weren’t looking at each other, although you were itching to scream at him.

But then he did it first. Sort of.

“What were you thinking?”

You rolled your eyes as you continued to look at your own feet.

“I should be the one asking you that.’

“I was making the only decision that could have been made at that point in time.”

You just scoffed. “You can’t be serious.” You looked up at him now, and he still had that small frown, even in rest.

“I did what I had to,” he said strongly.

“Just because you’re a super soldier doesn’t mean you just go ahead and take all the brunt of it, for fuck’s sake. You’re not invincible!”

“And neither are you,” he shot back, finger jabbing in the air at your gown.

“No, seriously, what the fuck was your plan?”

“My plan was to get you off the mine safe, protect myself before letting the mine blow, and then getting the fuck out of there.”

“You couldn’t have waited for back up?!”

“That asshole was already up and he definitely heard us,” Walker replied, vexed. “If he’d seen us out waiting on the mine he would’ve put a bullet in it then and there and neither of us would be breathing right now.”

“How do you know for sure? They were almost there!”

“I had to, alright?” He vaguely gestured at you, then him. “At least our situation was under our control!”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You mean our deaths?”

“Well, yeah!”

“Because that’s just so much better.”

“Oh, get out of here.”

You could just ‘tch’ in response, hanging your head down again. Silence filled the room once more.

Out of curiosity, your gaze perked as you glanced at him, his tired stature, long, bandaged legs, the gauze just peeking out of his gown round his stomach, the scars on this neck, the scruffy beard you’d thought of a god-awful amount of times…

Fucking hell.

You slipped down from the bed, finding a wheeled stool and sitting on it before awkwardly sliding your way to his bed.

His head turned and an eyebrow raised as he saw you coming in, holding onto the edge of the mattress as you steadied yourself.

“Crazy ride, huh?”

You gave him an unimpressed look, before keeping an elbow on the bed by his thigh, resting your head loosely on it.

“You know, I really wanna keep yelling at you,” you said plainly. Walker sighed, and you raised a hand in mock defeat.

“But I won’t, okay?”

“Great, yeah. Stay like that.”

“Can you shut up for a second?”

He glowered, then shrugged.

“Good boy.”

He was back to glowering at you again.

“I just… I need you to stop trying to kill yourself,” you said, and you did not expect so much emotion to flow through those words as you said them.

Him neither, it seemed, because his eyes softened, brows relaxing just a little. Then he let out a huff, a half-laugh, and you tsked for the 100th time.

“I’m being serious, Walker.”

“Oh, we’re back to Walker now?” he said suddenly, eyes flashing something. Something weird.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “John.”

He smirked. It was maddening, but you let him have his victory. Mostly because it was hot.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be brave,” you continued, eyes still on the bedframe. “I’m just saying… if you keep throwing yourself in the fire every time things go to shit, you’re gonna burn out before anyone can pull you back.”

Walker’s fingers twitched over his sheets, before turning into a fist.

“That was… eloquent.”

“I don’t know if it got through your skull, though.”

“It did.”

He was quick to respond, and it sounded as though his voice had slackened, considerably so.

Good.

You couldn’t help but look at his fist, and it was taking everything in you to not slip your own fingers in between the crevices.

Then you heard the soft whisper of ‘I’m sorry’ leave his mouth, and you had to look away, because it did things to you.

“Don’t do that, that’s very out of character for you,” you said, and he chuckled that low, rumbly chuckle of his.

“I mean it, though.”

You nodded. “I.. I know. It’s fine.”

Slowly, you looked back at his face, and had a little bit of a miniature heart attack when you saw that he was already looking at you, blue eyes uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Inevitably, your eyes dropped to his lips, and you laughed a little.

“Jesus, those lips are dry,” you mumbled, still grinning. “Didn’t know mines sucked the moisture out from there too.”

Walker squinted his eyes, huffing in amusement. “Why, do you wanna do something about it?”

It took a second for the sentence to make proper sense to you, and when it did you wrinkled your nose instantly, shooting him a look of utter shock.

“That is disgusting, John, who taught you to speak like that?”

He shrugged. “Oops.”

You didn’t stop staring, though. Now there were weird, very wrong, and extremely dangerous thoughts swirling in your head.

He actually said that.

The words slipped your mouth before you knew it.

“Do you mean that?”

Walker looked mildly perplexed.

“Mean what?”

You couldn’t tell if he was acting dense or actually just that.

“What– what you just said.”

He gave you a long, incomprehensible look. Then he swallowed, jaw flexing.

“Yeah.”

It felt a little bit like when you saved him from the mine, but less rushed, with more intent.

You stood up, hand cupping his face, palms brushing against his beard as you kissed him, lips melding with his, leaning almost entirely into him.

Your teeth clacked once, then your mouths fell into a rhythm as he started kissing back, and it destroyed you, inside out.

Your cheeks felt like you were back on that field, fiery and warm, while your free hand climbed up his chest, fingers splaying against the covered flesh.

His own hands snaked around your waist, careful not to touch your burns, before one of them came up to grip your chin, and he pulled you deeper, further into the kiss with a strength that sent chills down your spine.

The feeling of his mouth, his calloused hands, the roughness of his ragged beard grazing against your skin, the golden locks in between your fingers, it was all far too much, and it felt just right.

It was hot, messy, but slow, and most importantly heavy, with all the words unsaid, the thanks, the apologies, the times you’d wanted to kiss him just like this, as if no one else existed in this world, and only him, and his gaze and his warm hands, and even warmer mouth–

He pulled away, heaving a breath, but his hand remained on your chin, then slid over your cheek to hold onto your face as if you might float away otherwise.

He looked at you with wide eyes, almost completely disarmed.

You swallowed, his taste still distinct in your mouth.

“Was that okay?” you murmured.

He looked like he’d forgotten how to speak.

“Yeah,” he finally managed.

There was a sudden beep outside and you scrambled to sit your ass back down on the seat, but the wheels got naughty and–

“Fucking– ow,” you whined, as your back slammed against the wall with a dull thud.

The doctor stared with a rather lukewarm look at you.

Walker winced on your behalf as well, clearing his throat.

“You good?” The doc asked.

Ohohoho, she thought she was so funny.

You heard Walker chortle and you shot him the coldest look, mouthing, “I’ll deal with you later.”