Thirteen

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Calling Dr. Love by KISS

"I asked about you," Emerson mumbles while holding herself up on the parallel bars trying to work on walking. Strange stands in front of her in case she begin to 'tip over'—his words not hers.

"Elaborate," is all the doctor says to his patient. He gives her an expecting look, curious to hear what she has to say. His eyes trail up her legs, over her hips and breasts, and to her eyes, waiting for her to speak. He tries his best to make his licentious glances small, and luckily they go unnoticed. 

"I had asked the Ancient One about you. I'm only telling you I talked about you in case she mentions it," Emerson sheepishly responds. She doesn't want him to think she's been asking around about him. The doctor's ego doesn't need to be any larger than it already is. The soldier's arms begin to ache and shake as she starts to feel too weak to hold herself up any longer. Her feet rest on the ground, straight down without any bodyweight put on them.

"It must have been pretty bad if you're warning me about it," he quips, trying to joke around but while he does so, Em's arms begin to give out. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to push through the pain. "Keep going..." He mumbles, convinced she can hold onto the bars a tad longer.

"I'm not warning you," Emerson rolls her eyes making it extremely obvious. "I just didn't want you to be confused if she brings it up, which she shouldn't, but in case she does."

"What was the discussion about?" He inquires, being overly nosy. It's odd to find him this interested in what the soldier has said about him.

"If I tell you do you think we could start listening to music during PT?" Her arms give out and she falls forward into his ready chest. Without thinking, Emerson grabs ahold of his forearms for balance before looking up to face him with a slight smile. She can't help but feel his muscular forearms and almost wishing he'd wrap them around her. His eyes lock with the sergeants before he clears his throat to speak. 

"I don't see why not," he shrugs as he helps sit her on the ground, his weak hands holding Emerson up under her arms. He doesn't make a comment about her falling which she's quite thankful for. Her heavy breathing slows as she begins to catch her breath. "So about-"

"I was just curious as to why you'd help me, that's all. What, I'm not allowed to be curious about your motives?" She sharply responds, cutting him off before he can even ask again. They sit across from each other and he watches the woman stretch forward to grab the bottom of her feet. Emerson stretches her calf muscles by doing toe-touches. Strange doesn't say anything for a while and Emerson can't help but feel slightly bad for her snarky response. After sitting in silence for too long Em speaks up. "Sorry for the attitude. Let's just get this over with."

His jaw clenches, his sharp cheekbones flaring, obviously not used to being apologized to. Strange doesn't respond and instead shakes his hand in an attempt to brush it off. He moves the sergeant's hands away from her feet so she rests them in her lap instead. "You're getting stronger," he concludes.

"I've been slowly putting more weight on feet when I stand... Like you said to do."

"Good," is all he says in response making Emerson slightly annoyed. She was expecting praise and congratulations. His gloved hands start on her ankles and massage their way up to her calves. He feels her muscles and lifts her leg up to bend it at a ninety-degree angle. She's noticed he's never taken his gloves off when doing physical therapy with her; it's like he's afraid to touch the woman for some reason. Emerson tries not to think too much about it which is hard to do while his hands are rubbing up and down her legs. The sensual feeling sends her into overdrive making her mind spiral as she thinks about Stephen Strange touching her in places other than her calves. The soldier's heart pounds in her chest so loud she's worried he can hear it.

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