fe_male | memeboxing

[ He tries not to stay away from her for any longer than he absolutely has to. He really doesn't want to be away from her side at all, but even he knows that's unrealistic. So he gets an EMT to go find him a suitable bunch of bandages, and while the young lady is gone, he swipes some antibacterial and pain relief - not much, he's probably got some in the tower, and he can order some through the labs anyway, but in the off-chance there isn't any immediately available. The woman comes back, he thanks her crisply, and rushes back to where he left her, relieved when she's still standing and seems to be okay. ]

Gonna put this one on you okay? Add some pressure so you can stop holding it in with your good arm and hold onto me with it instead, in a minute. You ready?

[ Still standing, still relatively okay, definitely. She wasn't going to pass out on him while he was gone, that seemed really rude. And also like a bad idea. The passing out thing in general, just. Not a great idea. This shirt is totally ruined. She lifts her hand to let him work, nods and steadfastly ignores the blood. (She is very tired of how much of her life has included blood.) ] Holding onto you is always nice. All sounds good.

[ Shorter, now, conserving breath and energy, but she manages an almost smile. ] How are you doing? With the crowds.

[ Well to be honest, while passing out would likely worry him even more, it's far more likely to allow you to receive the medical treatment you need, since while conscious he's going to rely on a mixture of personal experience and whatever you personally prefer. Which, let's be honest, isn't entirely likely to be in your own best interests.

But regardless, it doesn't take long to affix the bandage, lifting the shirt up just enough to expose the wound and even then only long enough so he can properly attach it. He knows it's going to be temporary - he can't clean anything here, not in this state - so he isn't that concerned with the specifics of it all at the moment. She can have whichever of his shirts she wants, he really doesn't care.

The first comment gets what he assumes passes as a smirk, he doesn't have that much experience with being the anchor in a situation like this, so even i don't know precisely how encouraging it actually is. So it's just an 'of course you like holding onto me, I'm a goddamn dream' and then back to real things ] It's good. I'm focused. All fine. [ Which sounds like bullshit but actually right now he really does have something to focus on, so he's pushing all the rest of it away and able to concentrate. As soon as they're back home and he's been triply reassured that she's okay - that's when he'll have problems, if he has the pure energy to do so after all of this. ] Is that okay? Is it too tight - can you breathe?

[ No let's not be honest, being honest means admitting that sometimes she can be entirely too cavalier about her own health and safety and that is no fun.

It's enough of a reassurance. A smile at all is pretty nice to get, if only because for the moment it helps feed into that nice idea of this being okay, now or soon. Everything going fine. Means that at the least he's retaining his sense of humor, and she greatly prefers that. ]

Okay. Good. Better be. [ Because she can't check right now. If she could that's what she would have done instead of asking, but right now she has to use her words and that's kind of frustrating, she'd like the noise of this crowd to be gone from inside her head. She'd also like for none of this to have happened, but you can't always get what you want, can you. She nods, forces herself to keep talking. It's harder now that she'd stopped, getting back on the distracting yourself talking groove. ] I can breathe fine. Ready to go. Ready to blow this popsicle stand.

[ looks like they both suffer in that respect when honesty is involved.

Although her question makes him consider that. He'd been so focused, so concerned about the physical, that he hadn't realized her own ability to deal with the panicked crowds was likely diminished. She's always so capable (and that's another reason he doesn't like all of this). He pushes his own shields around her a little more securely - they're built out of focus and standard sentinel stubbornness, so hopefully they'll help through whatever's happening until she can take over herself. Asking her directly in return seems a little too much right now, so he'll just keep working, tugging the shirt back down when she says she's fine, glancing at her for a moment to work out how best to do this flying thing, because with no hospitals and the streets like this, there isn't much of an option. ] They're pretty collectively losing their shit; I'll be glad to get some distance anyway. [ probably too oblique, but whatever. ] Since you can't lift your arms, I'm just going to carry you, and you're not allowed to get mad at me, even later.

[ seriously, they really do.

She blinks for a moment at the shields, a tiny bit of the tension bleeding out of her body. (Poor choice of words, perhaps.) That's helpful. The panic had become background noise to her own worry and to Tony's concern that she can't help feeling, but a background noise constantly threatening to become overwhelming, and now it was easier. That was really nice. ] Distance is always good. People. [ That's as directly as she'll address it for the moment. But at that she does find the spirit to glare at him a little, because okay, being carried, not her favorite thing. But it's Tony, and he's helping, and he's worried and upset and handling it all really well and this is the way to get home, so that all overrules any dislike she has really quickly. ] Okay. It gets us home, I'm not going to be mad. Not even later.

[ Oh good, he can see that tension just slightly drifting off, and it helps him in turn also calm a bit. Visible aid, he measures his worth in the visible if not the entirely tangible, and that's the sort of thing that convinces him that this entire relationship isn't just one-sided.

He agreement comes begrudgingly, and he expected no different, but it's still agreement and he still has to get her back home, so he bends down enough to pick her up under the arms and knees, making sure one of the arms is cradled properly, and if she can at all, that the other is looped around his neck, before he takes off. He doesn't fly as fast as he might have - without a helmet he's not only flying based solely on what he can see and JARVIS feeds him through the earpiece, but it's just harder to breathe if you go too quickly. That to the fact that holding her eliminates the use of his stabilizers, and it's actually a fairly tame fly back home. ]

[ Some day she's going to have to find a way to convince him thoroughly, once and for all, that there is nothing one sided about this relationship. If she knew he thought that, even sometimes, she'd be horrified.

She does loop her other arm around his neck, ignores the way it pulls at ribs because whatever, she's holding on to him and nothing's going to make her let go. Tame or not, she keeps her eyes closed and works on keeping her breathing even, turns her face fully into him to hide any visible pain on her face from him. Home. For a concept she's only recently come to give any meaning again, and one that never had all that much even before everything bad, it's one that means a great deal to her now. ]

[ Well then it's a good thing he's absolutely never going to bring it up ever.

I stopped here and got distracted reading two of our old threads and now I don't remember what I was going to say.

He makes the trip as quickly as he can manage, a route with few turns and avoiding odd wind drafts that might make things more difficult or complicated. It still takes him much longer than he would have liked, owing to the speed at which he has to fly for them both, but it's not that long later that he's coming to as gentle a landing as he can manage, immediately walking inside and issuing orders to JARVIS. After all the shit with the kidnapping, he's gone ahead and put a bit more medical equipment in the house, so he takes her to the bed in that room instead, carefully setting her down on it and making sure she's not going to fall off. ]

Hey, still here? I forgot to mention I had painkillers - didn't want you passing out on the fly over, or getting all drugged and letting go. [ Sometime since he's put her down, he's started the light suit disengaging, so at this point it's gone again, which is good, because he wants to just sort of, brush her hair out of her face and feel her pulse when he holds her hand for a second. ] Not allowed to hit me for that either. I do need to take your shirt off though. I can give you a pick-up line while I do it to take the edge off.

[ She gets in your head a lot dude someday she's probably going to stumble across that, by accident if nothing else, and maybe yes maybe you should mention it to her because if she ever does find out by accident she's going to be upset. Not at you, really, just at. Everything.

I have that problem a lot.

She says hello to JARVIS as they come in, lifts the hand around Tony's neck just a little bit to wave to - okay, yes, she's waving at a disembodied voice essentially, but it's the thought that counts. She's fairly certain that's it at least. Besides, JARVIS is a nice guy. He welcomed them home, she should say hi in - which is about when she thinks she needs to stop rambling about things that don't matter. ]

Still here -- [ she narrows her eyes but makes what can be read as a shrug despite moving as little of herself as possible to do it. ] I'm not going to hit you, it's just pain. But I would appreciate those. About now. [ Because she may be used to it, but she's fallen out of the habit and if there's no need to live with it then she wants the option where she doesn't have to. That one's a lot better. She wants to hold onto his hand, turns her head just a little bit into the brush of his hand on her face. Tactile reassurance of his presence is the easiest to believe. ] But I won't get follow through. Disappointing. [ But she tugs her shirt up with one hand a little. Not like it's anything he hasn't seen. ]

[ That sounds like our next thread right there. Tell me I'm wrong.

He does smile a little bit, a quirk of one side of his mouth, because he likes it when people treat JARVIS like he's a person. It makes him feel good. Basically the same thing a normal person would get if they saw their baby interacting positively with the world around it, but it's long since been established that Tony Stark has a somewhat skewed sense of what is strictly alive and what isn't.

He moves just enough to reach them where he set the painkillers down behind him on a table, twisting with one arm out to snatch them up and then lean over her to properly administer them, because they are like all truly good painkillers, the needley kind. He doesn't ask her if she's ready, or where she prefers, just a slight jab and then hopefully the cooling sensation of detachment from pain will take over anything else. He does keep talking though. ] I promise that after you can move your arms without bleeding I will run you into the wall and sex you senseless, how's that? Delayed gratification is about the best I can offer at the moment. [ Moving to pull it up just a bit more - it needs to stay up of it's own accord, so he has to fold it back a fair deal. And then start to try and gently clean the wound to get a proper look. For someone who hammers and welds and has callouses on his hands, he can have a surprisingly gentle touch, which he is utilizing right now, cleaning. ]

[ I can't tell you you're wrong because I actually think you're right.

She doesn't like painkillers, in general. They cloud her brain too much, she's always reacted strongly to them and she hates not having control over what she says or does. But yeah, she's more than happy to take them right now. Tony's got her. She's safe, she doesn't have to be in control right now. She can just stay still and let the drugs run into her system, taking things aside. It's a great feeling, especially when it comes without attendant anxiety over reaction times slowing and safety. ]

That a promise? [ Light, better able to be amused now that she's slowly feeling like the pain genuinely is just in another moment. Somewhere else. His hands are gentle and she can still feel his concern, realizes belatedly that her shields aren't really working that well. ] This is just payback for that time you broke your ribs and I said no sex. Isn't it.

[ He had a feeling she mightn't, yes. But right now, painkillers are a very very good thing. He's felt the shields for a little while now, but his own are working relatively well - as long as she's not getting too much from him, and she seems to be okay, he can handle it until the immediate crisis is over.

Tony moves a light so he can see a little better once she seems to mellow out a little with the drug. He's trying to clean it without actually having to be too invasive about it - he can tell that fixing it entirely is likely going to require some amount of stitching - unless. When he replies, he's got that slightly distracted tone that typically accompanies his having more of his attention on what he's working on. ] Yes it is. I've just been waiting for a chance to pay you back for that one. How well is that local anesthetic working? Have you noticed any other injuries? [ He's quickly glanced her over, putting senses to work, but just noticed scratches and the swelling that accompanies normal bruising. He'd need a more in depth look or some sort of scanner - or to watch her moving around - to notice anything beyond that. ]

[ No wonder he didn't ask her if she had a preference for where. Sometimes she really thinks he understands her too well. He's too intuitive about her, but then so is she about him. Turn and turn about. She guesses that's fair, but that doesn't mean she always appreciates it.

She's okay with that tone, though, because what he's working on is, well, fixing her. Which is something she'd highly prefer wasn't necessary but if it is she's just glad he's okay enough with fixing her himself that no hospitals are necessary. She hates hospitals. ] Ribs are bruised on the left. Head hurts. Fingers on my right hand went against a railing, might just be bruised or it might be something more. He was - kind of an asshole. [ And she wanted to stay alive, and even if all he wanted was a hostage she had instincts that screamed worse at her. So now he's dead, and she's listing out injuries clinically because she knows the value of a good situational awareness. ] Nothing too bad. [ She's alive, isn't she? ]

[ There are a lot of things they both appreciate and vaguely resent about the other, I think. Both with a liberal amount of intellectual understanding to make them palatable in either direction. It works out well for them, since neither one of them ever actually volunteers any amount of helpful or meaningful personal information.

A few years ago he would have immediately sent her to a hospital, but now, he understands the problems involved with them, the drastic level of exposure and discomfort, and he's gotten pretty good and well read about a number of medical aspects, so he figures he's as good a help as anyone else, up to a certain extent. ] Your head hurts like you have a headache or your head hurts because there's a physical injury to the cranium? [ Ignoring the asshole comment, tamping down on that instinctive overprotectiveness, and it's probably a good thing she killed that guy because he certainly would have otherwise. ] Let me see your hand. How much can you move it? If that's actually the extent of the issue then you should be okay relatively quickly. The ribs'll be a bitch but you already know that.

[ Sometimes it's nice to be understood without needing to say something, and sometimes - sometimes it's the exact opposite of what you want, even if it might be what you need.

Her dislike of hospitals isn't entirely rational, particularly here where her identity being known isn't likely to lead to her immediate arrest anymore, but there's still enough of it that it would in some ways be detrimental to a healing process to be in one. Stress is not an effective medicine. ] Please, even distracted by everyone panicking there's no way he would have gotten me down an alley without hitting me on the head. [ Not really an answer, but painkillers do tend to do that to her. Make things slightly more unreal and distant, the things she says just slightly out of touch. And no matter how much she regrets having killed again, she'd still far rather it was her than him. ] I can move it mostly. Not the ring finger. See? Told you I'd be good. And you were worried about me dying, oh ye of little faith. [ Words just a little slurred. She's stopped bleeding, therefore she would like to submit to the jury that she is totally fine now. ]

[ Tony smirks a little as she replies, because, yes, that's true, but he just wanted to make sure, okay. He moves delicate hands over the area he thinks was hit, getting a gauge for how bad it is and then momentarily attuning his senses to it as well. A hard knock to the head, but no intercranial swelling, or the like. Nothing dangerous. He couldn't even smell the tell-tale bruising that would have accompanied a concussion. Just one, really hard whallop that she was going to keep feeling for a few weeks yet.

The hand... Probably needed splinting, and he was going to have to glue the original cut, but she was quite talkative. ] Yeah, not too bad. This finger needs a bit more support, but the others are all just bruised. If I go and get something from another table, you're not going to just spontaneously roll off this one, right? [ And hey, a little levity. Always a good thing. ]

[ She does fall silent for his examination, momentarily, because she knows he'll be using his senses and it would be bad form to just keep chattering with them on high. She knows that much. But talking just seems like the easy and natural thing to do, which she does know is the painkillers because that's not even a slightly normal feeling on her part. ]

I think I'm capable of staying firmly on the table. No moving. I'd pinkie promise but that would hurt. [ But her eyes are fixed firmly on him, and she falls silent as soon as he moves away at all. It's important. Him not being out of reach is probably the most important thing she can think of right now. Maybe the only really important thing. ]

[ That's reasonably reassuring, okay. He looks at her another few moments, and then swiftly leaves to return a few minutes later with something that looks pretty polished. ]

You good? Everything's still... How it was, right? No drastic changes?

[ She tracks his movement carefully, reaches out carefully with her mind once he's not in sight anymore, verification that he's still nearby. When he comes back in she relaxes visibly, still watching him. ]

I'm all good. [ reconsidering. ] Been a lot worse. The painkillers are working pretty well.

[ He tries to stay within her field of vision as much as he can, chatting idly when he knows he is no longer in sight, just to make sure she knows he's still there - it's the sort of thing he would have appreciated were he in her current position, so. It doesn't take him long to return with the item in question - polished, very Tony Stark-looking, all things told. ]

Good. Let me know if you need - or, her, if you just want more. I don't judge. Not much, anyway. And between me and you, I'd want all the painkillers. I'm going to try and seal that gash now, okay? Might be a bit chilly.

[ The thing he brought is aimed, rather like a gun would be, at the far end of the cut across her torso, and he activates it, allowing some goopy stuff to thinly coat the cut itself, all the way across the wound. Thus done, he looks at it somewhat quizzically, and then after twenty seconds have passed, he pokes it likely. ] Looks like it held. Hey, good news - no actual stitches.

[ Reason #234945 he is her favorite ever. She doesn't answer his idle chatter, but it helps. The thing he brings back gets nothing more than a glance, watching him instead. Always him. ]

I don't like painkillers more than I have to. [ Casually. One dose was - well, he hadn't actually asked her, but she would have said yes, everything had kind of hurt a lot and she was safe. More than that she wasn't too keen on.

She watches him throughout the process, laughs just a little when he pokes it because a) painkillers b) it's familiar and nice and she's still alive. That's pretty cool. ] Maybe that'll cut down on scarring. I don't need any more of those.

[ He didn't ask her because he did need her at least coherent and leveled enough to tell him anything important, and a brain in pain is not a particularly rational one.

The actual comment about painkillers is one he can't quite tell the appropriate reaction for, so he opts for the more playful: ] Yeah, you're a weirdo. [ It's a bit safer anyway. More familiar.

The laughter though, that's actually very nice to hear. He himself perks up a bit at that, because laughter, sure, okay, this might all be okay. ] I'm told chicks dig scars. Is that some sort of urban myth? Chicks dig scars only on other people, maybe. A kind of corollary. You want a lollipop? I can probably find one. Or a sticker. You just did such a good job.

[ Hers is totally rational in pain, okay, she's had a lot of training in this. (It is still not as rational as she would like.)

She rolls her eyes. ] Your face is a weirdo. [ Sticking her tongue out too for good measure. Drugs, man. ]

Totally a corollary. It's an inherent contradiction thing, but it's still true. Scars look good on everyone else. Dashing, even. [ She blinks, looks at him and frowns for a moment. ] Just to clarify, I'm definitely not dying?

[ The look he is giving you. He is so unimpressed with you right now. And so so amused. Payback's a bitch just handing your friends all the blackmail material they could ever want. Although really she doesn't seem too bad, in his opinion. He'll just poke her in the side that's numbed again.

Oh, look, seriousness. ] Far as I can tell. You lost a lot of blood though, so you need to take it easy a couple of days. Drink a few gallons of water and stuff - you'll be really dehydrated. And maybe get some sort of vitamin supplement I guess. But no dying.

as a 4yo? when i was 7 i thought my life was like The Truman Show. for /years/.

slkdhf lmfao

i'm serious!!! no really can you imagine what thinking everything you do is on camera between 7-14

alksf not really i voiceovered to fake audiences sometimes but i don't think i ever /believed/ in it

p a r a n o i a

awww baby /wraps up

;;

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