Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Don't Blame Me (2)

For you, I would cross the line
I would waste my time
I would lose my mind
They say, "she's gone too far this time"

Don't blame me, love made me crazy
If it doesn't you ain't doin it right
Lord save me, my drug is my baby
I'll be using' for the rest of my life

James watches as you slam the front door. It was like all the power you could conjure up shook the entire infrastructure of the home he knows you built from the ground up. Pictures shake along the wall, the fire down the corridor sparking to life as Pepper rushes down the hall with a bag with a large, red aid mark stitched on the front of it

From the looks of it, James could see you were favoring your right side much more than your left. Kate was throwing her bow on the ground just as you collapsed, leaving no room for anyone else as he stepped through the group and caught you as your hands slipped off the wall. You tried to force him away, mumbling something about healing in a few moments, but Pepper gave her head a firm shake when he glanced at her. And his arms tightened around you.

"Where is she hurt?" James felt like he was hyperventilating. His hands were searching your entire body, skin finally slipping on the thick warmth spilling from your left side as you finally managed to push him away with a single slap of your hand. But he found his way right back at your side as Kate was grabbing the bag from your sweet assistant and looking through it. "Potts, find Banner," he commands, not even looking up at her as your knees tremble beneath you, eyes threatening to shut before he slips you to the floor. "Easy, Princess–I got ya." Whispering seemed to do him more good as you slipped him a bloody smile, but the bruises along your face didn't help. Neither did the black veins venturing down your neck and appearing on your arms.

In the mere moments he had, James was shifting you into his lap. Your groans forced a colder expression on him as your neck cradled into the hook of his elbow, resting perfectly as he slipped an arm beneath your legs. Like this, he was able to apply just enough pressure to the wound and keep you elevated as Kate Bishop pulled out the first aid kit and ripped it open in a quick snap of the lid.

If James was panicking, you couldn't tell from where you laid in his arms. One hand — oddly calloused and warm as it rested on the inside of your thigh — was stroking your uncovered skin. His thumb was unrelenting as he moved back and forth, creating a pattern that simply became too numb to notice after only a minute, but you didn't mind it as his left hand played with your hair from where it was wrapped around your neck. His fingers danced near your ear, stroking the surface of your scalp as your arm was forced over the wound while he comforted you.

James started to notice the goosebumps rising on your skin only a couple seconds after Kate started to look for the rubbing alcohol, her curses falling on not so deaf ears when she pulled the bottle out from the bottom of the bag to see it was open and completely empty. Then she was rushing on her feet to leave him in the entry way, your breathing ragged and rough as the blood dripped on the hardwood he was starting to get used to.

"Why aren't you healing?" It was no secret your wounds didn't last very long. He saw it first hand when you first invited him over to speak over this matter. The bruises, albeit hidden from him until you decided to show it, finally faded within the sun's rays before his very eyes, leaving you with that perfect look he would often classify as dazed and happy. But now? You looked on the brink of death's door as your eyes began to close. "Cmon, Princess." With a simple lift of his arms, your eyes were on him again, a small grunt slipping through your lips as a drop of blood pooled on the corner of your mouth. "Stay with me."

James watched your face. He saw the way your eyebrows flinched at his words, eyes fluttering open and closed as your mouth twitched at the sound of his voice. But the feeling of pure doom was crushing him every moment you tried to go stiff. Your hands were unmoving, veins starting to become cold as the light in your eyes began to dim.