TFLN

[cwolfeh]

And I cannot text you with a drink in my hand~

✘ select a muse
✘ send a text - get a text
✘ enjoy the shennanigans

Comments

[cryogenics]

Didn't want to bleed on your carpet for no reason.

I'll be there in a few minutes.

[onthefitz]

I'm a shield scientist. I think I can figure out how to remove bloodstains from carpets.

Alright I'll be waiting.

I'll get some supplies together.

Scale of 1-10, how bad?

[cryogenics]

Still a lot of trouble.

about a 6

[onthefitz]

You're worth it.

Okay.

God just be careful on your way here okay?

[cryogenics]

I will.

[As, you know, careful as one can be when they're injured and bleeding. But still, five minutes later, he arrived to knock on the door. He could have opened a window, but he would have made more of a mess that way. And he's already a mess as it is, what with being stabbed in the side and bleeding all down his shirt and pants.]

[onthefitz]

[The door is jerked open not even a second after he knocks, Fitz looking frazzled and worried as his eyes scan over the other. It's hard to miss his bloodied side and while he can't see the full extent of it, it's enough to have his stomach twisting and the scientist steps aside, motioning the other in with a quick gesture.]

Get in. Bathroom's just beyond the kitchen.

[cryogenics]

[That was fast. Faster than he'd been expecting and so fast he almost teetered over. Regaining his balance, he nodded, stepping inside. Even with his hand over his wound applying pressure, he still left a trail of blood that dripped from his fingers.

It looked worse than it was, or he was pretty sure it did anyway. It just hurt to breathe and if it didn't hurt so bad he would have been able to handle it on his own without worrying Fitz. Maybe. Either way, he made it to the bathroom and leaned heavily against the counter, trying to catch his breath.]

[onthefitz]

[He may or may not have been pacing near the door. It's hard to say.

The blood could be cleaned up later, Fitz far more worried about actually stopping the source of it. He shuts the door and locks it once Bucky's inside, setting his alarm--just in case--before he trails after the other.

It's taking all the self control that he has not to flit about like a worried mother hen and instead he just eases into the bathroom as well so he can get his first aid kit out.]

Are you able to get your shirt off or should I cut it?

[cryogenics]

I've got it.

[Taking his hands away from the wound, he eased his jacket off, trying to keep his hands from shaking, and dropped it to the floor. His shirt was determined to stick to his wound, as soaked with blood as it was, but he managed to peel it off and pull the whole thing over his head.

The wound was deep, but relatively small on the surface. Well, Bucky thought a knife wound deep enough to have him bleeding on the floor was relatively small at least.]