Oneshots... Assemble!

Beer With A Side Of Bandages

Kinda spoilers for Agents of SHIELD, and contains fluffy Mockingbird (although there may or may not be a slight side of angst-- oops). This took me so long, apologies! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Requested by: Melinda_may_is_queen

Bobbi returns to the base injured, and Hunter decides to help her out...while drinking a few (a lot) of beers.

As Agent Bobbi Morse opened the door to the common area, she noted the distant sound of a crowd cheering. What the hell? she thought. The gunshot wound in her shoulder seemed to ache even more than before.

She'd gotten it from her latest recon-mission-turned-into-a-little-more solo op. The intel received that gave the idea of the lead was not entirely a lie, but not the whole truth either. Bobbi had done her best job of wrapping it, but didn't tell Coulson that she was injured. She was just tired of sitting in the medical bay, even if Simmons was a great doctor. Luckily for her, the bullet was easy to remove seeing as it'd didn't go too deep.

Bobbi turned the brick corner and stepped into the kitchen. Setting her bag down on the kitchen counter took some of the weight off, but she knew that eventually the agent would need to rest up. Rome wasn't built in one day, like how you can't reach one hundred percent as fast as the initial wound had been inflicted.

Bobbi winced. She set herself down slowly onto a stool and closed her eyes. Getting shot was exhausting, and thinking about it was even worse-- and this was coming from the agent that had been tortured by Grant Ward, and had encountered several strange things throughout her career.

"You want to tell me about it?" The one and only Lance Hunter took the stool next to her. He sat there about a minute before realizing it was uncomfortable. Then the man climbed on top of the counter and sat there with his legs crossed.

"You want to tell me what your doing?" Bobbi sighed.

"I asked you first--" she glared at him-- "but I would like to keep my fingers and my toe exactly where they are today. Wait one second..."

Hunter's eyes glanced over at the television where even more cheering and chants were erupting. Bobbi smirked, realizing that it was a fútbol game. She always got a lecture if she called it soccer. Hunter cursed and took a long swig of his beer. His team just got scored on, and even worse-- they were loosing to Fitz's home team, Manchester United.

"Bloody hell, mate! That was the worst play I've ever seen," Hunter yelled. "Anyways, do I look good sitting up here?"

Bobbi smirked. "Maybe a little."

She didn't even try and explain what happened on the mission, but instead took off her jacket to reveal a black tank top. The edge near her left shoulder was stained with a dark crimson color and white bandages were wrapped in a pathetic attempt.

"Bob," Hunter started while reaching for the first aid kit--

"Don't even ask why there was one in the kitchen; you'd be surprised at how stupid a grown man can be around the oven." Coulson's words suddenly came back to her from when Bobbi had first came to the base. She got the general impression that he wasn't talking about himself either. Agent May had said something about Barton being an idiot again.

--the red box was enclosed within a wall panel, and was filled with anything you could possibly need in case of an emergency. "We have a doctor on site, whom of which could do a satisfactory job. Aaand... I'm gonna assume you cleaned this and I'm not going to find a bullet, yeah?"

"Just need to bandage it, Hunter," she said after nodding. Bobbi eyed the open crate of beer. "Is Fitz watching the game with you?"

He shook his head. "He was busy with some nerdy-science-thing and had to miss it. Probably for the better, really."

"You're telling me that you've drank three whole beers already?" Bobbi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Two and a half," Hunter corrected, like it was no big deal. "Don't worry your pretty little face, love."

A few more minutes dragged on. The silence was occasionally broken by Hunter murmuring a curse, or Bobbi groaning in slight discomfort.

Hunter cleared his throat. "Just to put the offer out there: would you like a beverage?"

She rolled her eyes.

Seeing his confused expression, Bobbi explained, "Beer, Hunter. You're asking if I want a beer. Don't say beverage; what're you talking about-- soda?"

"Well, I'll take it for a 'yes dear, Mr. Sexy Sir Hunter'."

"You're insufferable," Bobbi teased.

"You're lucky, cause I'm one in a million, Bob." He kissed her nose and placed his hand on her forehead. "Love ya."

Bobbi scoffed. "What happened to me being a demonic hell beast?"

"Everyone...even monsters from the deepest pits of hell, deserve some love."