![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
pretend it's not monday
Sunday Six, a day late. And since the canon meld in the Clint/Coulson is making my brain hurt, I let it go play with the post-rolling stone Steve/Natasha that's been knocking around for a while now.
Steve’s in the tiny kitchenette of his extended-stay hotel when the call comes through from the SHIELD dispatcher. Her voice is even but not unkind as she says, “I have a medical alert for Captain Rogers. Patching through Agent Coulson upon ID validation.”
“This is Rogers,” Steve says, his half-made sandwich abandoned as he gives the proper codes and responses. Coulson and Hawkeye were out on a SHIELD op; if Coulson is calling Steve in, it can’t be good. Steve has seen Hawkeye brush off multiple broken bones and stitch counts that number in the dozens without letting alerts go out.
Steve’s in the tiny kitchenette of his extended-stay hotel when the call comes through from the SHIELD dispatcher. Her voice is even but not unkind as she says, “I have a medical alert for Captain Rogers. Patching through Agent Coulson upon ID validation.”
“This is Rogers,” Steve says, his half-made sandwich abandoned as he gives the proper codes and responses. Coulson and Hawkeye were out on a SHIELD op; if Coulson is calling Steve in, it can’t be good. Steve has seen Hawkeye brush off multiple broken bones and stitch counts that number in the dozens without letting alerts go out.
no subject
no subject