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@artificiallyimplantedmemories​

     “Sure, sure, whatever makes you happy.” Her eyes are closed, her head tipped back against the wall in exhaustion. She’s fairly sure she hasn’t lost enough blood to be this woozy, but she can’t even be bothered to look as Maria fusses. She knows the woman won’t do anything she hates — no unnecessary procedures or painkillers or anything else — and she trusts Maria implicitly. “Do what you gotta do, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

   ❝ You not bleeding out very much makes me happy, yes. ❞ She hums, moving away only long enough to grab a first aid kid before she’s back at Natasha’s side. Carefully, she flushes out the wound with saline and makes certain she gets all of the grit out of it. Once it’s thoroughly cleaned out, Maria begins to stich the wound closed, each stitch beautifully neat and almost professional with how often she’s had to do this. 

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@artificiallyimplantedmemories​

     “Going on vacation, Maria~” By which she means a mission, but a personal one. Maria is one of the few people that actually knows where she’s headed, so she’s not saying it out loud here, but she’s looking forward to a little time in the sun, even if it’s served with a side dish of murder.

   ❝ Ah, that’s today? ❞ She hums, a small smile pulling at the edges of her lips as she looks up at the other woman. She looks radiant. It’s amazing what the prospect of murder in the sun can do for a woman. Maria leans back in her chair, flicking a lazy glance over the redhead before her smile widens.  ❝ When are you leaving? ❞

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@artificiallyimplantedmemories​

     She lowers herself into the chair gracelessly and looks up at Maria, exhaustion marring her features. “If this is a ploy to get me naked again, you’re doing a great job,” she quips, but her heart isn’t in it. She’s definitely bleeding, but that’s less of a concern for her than the fact that she feels like she could sleep for a week.

   ❝ That’s cute, Natasha. ❞ She shoots her a look, sighing under her breath as she gets onto her knees in front of the other woman to get a better look. Once her shirt is out of the way, Maria can examine the wound, and a small frown eases onto her features.  ❝ I’m gonna need to clean it. Flush it out. It looks like it’s got some grit in it. ❞

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@murder-popsicle​

“She took good care of us,” Bucky said with a fond, slightly sad smile. “She was like a second ma to me. She brought me into her family the same way my family did with Steve. We all watched out for each other.”

She paused to tighten a stitch and then added, “I miss that. That kinda family and community. I mean, I got people like Steve and Nat and Sam and you, and we all watch each other’s backs, but it’s not really the same. When I was growin’ up, I couldn’t throw a rock in Brooklyn without hittin’ a relative, or a friend, or at least somebody who went to the same church as me.”

Gently, she tied a knot in the cord and then snipped off the excess. “All set,” she told Maria. “But you should maybe let me handle the hard stuff for the rest of this mission, since I’m not leakin’ anywhere.”

   ❝ That makes sense. It’s quite a thing to lose. ❞ It’s not something Maria could particularly relate to. At least not in the sense of having such an extended amount of family and friends in her youth. But she can understand why that would be missed. 

      She utters a soft thank you when the knot is tied in to place, glancing down at the stitched up wound before she offers her a smile.  ❝ Nice try, Bucky. ❞ She huffs a soft laugh, lowering her shirt as she pushes herself up to her feet. Maria doesn’t stop working for such a small wound, that’s for sure. She’s been through much worse and kept going, after all. 

   ❝ And I’m not leaking everywhere now. You saw to that. ❞ She teases, hand resting absently against the wound through her shirt as she heads for her laptop.  ❝ I’ll start laying out our next step. ❞

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@artificiallyimplantedmemories​ asked:  Natasha swings by Maria's desk, coffee in hand, humming a tune. She's very clearly in a good mood.

      She’s not entirely sure what has Natasha in such a good mood, but it’s enough to bring a fleeting smile to her lips as she looks up from her work briefly.  ❝ Afternoon. ❞ She greets, one dark brow lifted before she looks back down at the screen in front of her.  ❝ What’re you up to? ❞

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extremely exhausted starters || accepting || @murder-popsicle​

“If we’re both in this state, we both really screwed up somewhere huh?”

    ❝ I’d say so. ❞ She huffs, spitting out some blood before she wipes her arm beneath her nose to swipe away the blood from where she’d been hit in the nose.  ❝ How we let that get that out of hand is beyond me. You okay? ❞

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extremely exhausted starters || accepting || @artificiallyimplantedmemories

“I’m absolutely fine, I just need to sit down.”

    ❝ You absolutely DO need to sit down, but you’re not fine, Natasha. ❞ There’s no hiding the concern in her expression as she guides Natasha toward the nearest chair and encourages her to take a seat.  ❝ Let me check your injuries. Lift up your shirt. ❞

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@dissolvedshadows​

    “as ready as i’ll ever be.”

    ❝ wonderful. take a seat, and we’ll get started. ❞

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@cxntseemtomiss​

       “ you only want me out of here so you can finally be the attractive one here. ” 

       it took a subtlety that only he had to almost die, hit on your boss and compliment yourself all in one breath. maybe she was right, maybe he was delerious enough to do things like that and should be taken out of the heat. but hawkeye ?? listening to advice ?? from his superiors ?? when did that ever happen ??

       “ maybe you should tell the heat to call back later. i got an answering machine that can take it’s message. you guys mocked me but now it’s gonna come in handy. ”

    ❝ you’re funny, Clint. really funny. ❞

      she rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t take him seriously. after all, this is Clint Barton. she sighs softly as she glances around them, looking for somewhere that they could get to that she can tuck him away out of the sun. before it addles his brain anymore than it already seems to have. 

    ❝ yeah... you’re getting more and more ridiculous as this goes on, Barton. Come on, there are some rocks over there-- with any luck, there’s enough shade for you there. ❞

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@murder-popsicle​

Bucky huffed out a laugh and said, “I’m always neat. Learned how to do this from Sarah Rogers herself, and lemme tell you, she had high standards. She taught me and Steve both, just in case one of us got hurt and needed the other to do the first aid.”

Carefully, she began to stitch the wound closed, trying to be as gentle as possible. She was no professional medic, but she did have a grab bag of useful first aid skills – some from Sarah Rogers, some from her time in the army, and some from her years as the Winter Soldier. For straightforward injuries like this one, it was sufficient.

    ❝ Oh, I can only imagine. From what I’ve heard Steve say about her, she’d expect nothing less than perfection when it comes to looking after her kids. ❞ Kids plural, because from the sounds of it Bucky was a second child to Sarah. 

      She flinches briefly when Bucky begins stitching the wounds, before she forces herself to relax and let her get on with it. Sighing softly, so as not to move too much, she glances down to watch as Bucky sets to tending to her wound.  ❝ It’s nothing severe though, which is good... Shouldn’t be too long and it’ll all be healed I’m sure. ❞

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Extremely Exhausted Starters

“You. Rest. Now.”

“You took five steps and need to sit down again?”

“I’m absolutely fine, I just need to sit down.”

“I just need to sit-what do you mean I’m already laying down?”

“Your eyes aren’t focusing. Just close them for ten minutes.”

“Write one sentence on this piece of paper, and then I’ll let you up.”

“I just need a breather, that’s all. Maybe ten. No fifteen.”

“We’re both so exhausted we can’t even argue about not being exhausted.”

“When I said I needed five more minutes I meant it more like hours.”

“… no… I’m tired… let me sleep… I don’t want to get up.”

“We need to get out of the heat, you’re starting to look sick.”

“You can’t hide those shaking hands from me. You need to stop.”

“I’m just a little cold, I’m okay, really. Let me sit with a blanket or something.”

“Moving…? No I’m good thanks.”

“Gravity has a hold on me of which I have not the strength to break.”

“Was… was that actually there? That wasn’t there was it?”

“I’ve had no energy for three days.”

“You worked yourself so hard that you’ve been sentenced to three days of bed rest.”

“Listen I can… I can get up. It’s fine.”

“If we’re both in this state, we both really screwed up somewhere huh?”

“I have energy for exactly one more person of favourable standing, and going the hell to bed. With or without that person, bed is happening.”

“You’ve struggled to move anything for the last hour.”

“This is what happens when you over exert yourself.”

“You were almost dead from pushing it too far!”

“I went a little overboard sure… but I’m still alive. So shh.”

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      Bucky’s words have Maria thinking back to the time she got shot through the hand, and she decides that she agrees. She’s definitely had worse.  ❝ Mm, true. Still, try to make it neat in case it scars, hm? ❞ She teases lightly, removing her jacket so that she can roll up her t-shirt and reveal the stab wound on her torso, just beneath her ribs.

      It’s not hit anything vital, so she’ll be fine. One hand holds the shirt out of the way, as the other reaches behind her to brace herself against the couch as she leans back to give Bucky more room to work. She’d usually do it herself, but Bucky has just as much experience as she does, if not more, so there’s no harm in letting her do it. 

@murder-popsicle​ ctd from { X }

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    ❝ Are you ready to debrief? ❞

@dissolvedshadows ♥’d

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     like this and i’ll either throw a starter your way or hit up your meme tag

[thisishill]

#that jawline though