One should expect to get bitten when cornering a large animal and so Steve isn’t angry at the wolf-dog for doing exactly what it was supposed to do. He does, however, raise an arm to defend himself, pushing at the large, surprisingly soft shoulder of the creature that would dwarf him on hind legs. Steve falls back, half in shock, not quite feeling the pain of sharp teeth around his forearm, but the jaws do not continue to latch on and the dog bounds over him. It’s nails scrape the sidewalk.
Steve cranes his neck, mostly to make sure it doesn’t dart into the street where it can be hit by a car, and then rolls over. The pain finally hits him, and hits him hard. He presses his hand against the wound and groans, feeling warm wetness spread across his palm. Not good.
He doesn’t have time to call anyone. Lately, he’s used to not having anyone to rely on other then himself.
Steve Rogers stumbles into the Emergency Room of the hospital he’s spent every near death moment of his life in and let’s a big nurse shove him into a wheel chair and sprint him through double doors. After that, he blacks out.
It’s morning when he comes to, pale and with dark purple circles around his eye. The light hurts and he lays an arm across his eyes before he realizes that he’s stood Bucky’s sister up and that she must be worried sick. His phone is next to him and he reaches out blindly for it to text her.
Sorry. Went hunting alone. Stay away from it. Getting a series of rabies shots. Will be fine. Call you later.
Steve has a knack for neat texts. He just wishes he had Bucky’s number. Or that Bucky would have had a phone. He’s feeling like a pumpkin spice latte. Iced. His body feels like it’s on fire and he wonders if that’s because he hadn’t actually been lying about having to get rabies shots. He’s not pleased.
He is, however, confused when a nurse comes by half an hour later with his release papers. Becca hasn’t texted back, likely because she’s in class, so Steve only has to focus on the bearded man in the scrubs. He feels like shit. He also thinks this guy’s cologne is way too strong.
“Uh... don’t you guys have to stitch my arm back on?” Good thing Bucky isn’t here.
The nurse shakes his head. “The bits was shallow. We ran tests and your bloodwork looks good. You have a few stitches, and they’ll dissolve on their own. Do you have anyone you want us to call to get you?”
Steve frowns and then shake his head. “I’m good... thanks.”
It’s going to be slow going getting home. He still feels too warm and the smell in the subway today is overpowering. He almost throws up twice before he finds himself standing in front of Bucky’s building. It’s much closer than his own and his legs feel so heavy. Hopefully Bucky won’t mind if he crashes here.
no subject
One should expect to get bitten when cornering a large animal and so Steve isn’t angry at the wolf-dog for doing exactly what it was supposed to do. He does, however, raise an arm to defend himself, pushing at the large, surprisingly soft shoulder of the creature that would dwarf him on hind legs. Steve falls back, half in shock, not quite feeling the pain of sharp teeth around his forearm, but the jaws do not continue to latch on and the dog bounds over him. It’s nails scrape the sidewalk.
Steve cranes his neck, mostly to make sure it doesn’t dart into the street where it can be hit by a car, and then rolls over. The pain finally hits him, and hits him hard. He presses his hand against the wound and groans, feeling warm wetness spread across his palm. Not good.
He doesn’t have time to call anyone. Lately, he’s used to not having anyone to rely on other then himself.
Steve Rogers stumbles into the Emergency Room of the hospital he’s spent every near death moment of his life in and let’s a big nurse shove him into a wheel chair and sprint him through double doors. After that, he blacks out.
It’s morning when he comes to, pale and with dark purple circles around his eye. The light hurts and he lays an arm across his eyes before he realizes that he’s stood Bucky’s sister up and that she must be worried sick. His phone is next to him and he reaches out blindly for it to text her.
Sorry. Went hunting alone. Stay away from it. Getting a series of rabies shots. Will be fine. Call you later.
Steve has a knack for neat texts. He just wishes he had Bucky’s number. Or that Bucky would have had a phone. He’s feeling like a pumpkin spice latte. Iced. His body feels like it’s on fire and he wonders if that’s because he hadn’t actually been lying about having to get rabies shots. He’s not pleased.
He is, however, confused when a nurse comes by half an hour later with his release papers. Becca hasn’t texted back, likely because she’s in class, so Steve only has to focus on the bearded man in the scrubs. He feels like shit. He also thinks this guy’s cologne is way too strong.
“Uh... don’t you guys have to stitch my arm back on?” Good thing Bucky isn’t here.
The nurse shakes his head. “The bits was shallow. We ran tests and your bloodwork looks good. You have a few stitches, and they’ll dissolve on their own. Do you have anyone you want us to call to get you?”
Steve frowns and then shake his head. “I’m good... thanks.”
It’s going to be slow going getting home. He still feels too warm and the smell in the subway today is overpowering. He almost throws up twice before he finds himself standing in front of Bucky’s building. It’s much closer than his own and his legs feel so heavy. Hopefully Bucky won’t mind if he crashes here.