â - her shoulder or back because he's probably stitching her up to the best of his ability (from /post/ 164546308639/ send-a-body-part-for-my-muses-reaction-to !)
she really wants to move. she really, really wants to jerk around and smack his hands away. she really, really, really, really, really, really, really wants to. heâs not gentle about this at all! didnât even give her something to chug to dull the pain or a bullet to bite down on or anything! maybe she should have expected this from him, but hey, can you blame her for wanting to believe thereâs some soft part of him left in there? but heâs just hard edge after hard edge after hard edge. a maze made of barbed wire. whatâs in the middle? what if thereâs nothing in there for her to find but more pointy bits?
sheâll cross that bridge when she gets to it.
itâs not that she wouldnât like that; she probably would. she likes him well enough so far. it doesnât bother her if he doesnât care about her pain, or even if he enjoys it. sheâd just like to know if he cares about her smiles too.
âow-- ow! hey! whaddya tryna do, turn it inside-out? âcause thatâs what it feels like!â
âyou want me to just let you bleed out?â
sheâs got her hands balled into fists so tight that her nails are in serious danger of puncturing skin. these fists are, in turn, curled around her knees, which are brought up to her chest, and her legs are so tight and tense itâd be a miracle if she stops getting muscle cramps before the week is out. it really does feel like heâs trying to turn that wound inside out to her. what a disgusting image. normally, sheâd find some childish pleasure in trying to imagine that scenario; right now, sheâs got tears streaming down her face and is holding back a scream.
no-- make that was holding back a scream.
heâs stopped working on the gash in her shoulder, but whatever he was doing hurt so bad she hasnât noticed yet. heâs lucky that heâs strong enough and big enough to hold her down. if he wasnât, he might well be worse off than she is right now. she can vaguely register the feeling of flesh being pulled by stitches, but itâs through a haze of pain and tears, and this is the moment she vows never to let frank castle patch her up ever again, at all, under any circumstances.
âalright, youâre good.â he sounds mildly amused by her theatrical suffering. this does not comfort her much. he holds out his bloody hands to prove what heâs said. this does not comfort her at all.
he puts one of those hands on her uninjured shoulder and bends down until he catches her tear-filled eye. thereâs something in his other hand. he holds it out to her, palm-up.
itâs a gcpd-issue nine millimeter bullet.
he was not patching up a gunshot wound.
âhow long has that been in there? you know?â
she sniffs. wipes her faces a little (winces), unclenches her body (winces), blinks away tears and leans forward to get a better look (winces).
âthat came outta my shoulder?â
âjesus. iâunno. few years, maybe?â
she looks at him. he looks at her. they both start laughing at the same time. itâs a weird sort of laughter, the kind that isnât done solely out of humor, but itâs laughter nonetheless. itâs the first time sheâs ever heard him really laugh at something. she likes the way he sounds when he laughs. sheâd like to hear it again sometime.
(she hopes it doesnât have to come at the same cost. she likes you, frank, she really likes you, but if you try to fix her up like this again, she just might kill you.)