When Agent Arielle Anson gets a new gig with Nick Fury and the Avengers, she's in for something much bigger than she could've ever dreamed of-quite literally. Her brains have gotten her this far, along with her kick ass punches. Arielle is the under...
I put away some of my clothes I'd put through the wash earlier, my wet hair still dripping on the shoulders of my shirt from the shower I just got out of. The steam felt good against my hand, even though it's wrapped. It feels as if it relieved some pressure. I stand up, pushing the drawers in with my folded clothes. I glance down at my hand again, still shaky, but the throbbing minimized.
I hear a knock on the door, and I quickly turn to see who it might be. Bruce stands in the doorway, leaning against the door. I watch his eyes look me over before narrowing in on my hand. He nods, licking his lips softly before looking down in upset.
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"Hey..." he says quietly, giving me a warm smile.
"Hi." I smile back, but my smile fades when I notice his face evolves to worry. That's all he's been. Worried.
"How's the hand?" He asks, slipping his hands into his pockets. His adam's apple twitches, his jaw clenched. I tilt my head, sighing as I look down at it. I roll my tongue around the inside of my cheek before licking my lips.
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"Better—fine, really." I force another smile.
He begins to walk towards me. "Really?" He asks, almost as if he doesn't believe me.
"Bruce—I'm fine." I whine, trying to dismiss him. He shakes his head, not giving up that easily. He reaches me, grabbing my wrist. He lays my hand in his palm, tracing the wrapping with his fingers.
"You're not fine." He argues, his eyes studying mine. "You don't have to lie to me." His voice slowly becomes more of a whisper. The raspiness of it is arousing. It's like his tired voice.
I swallow thickly, looking down at my hand on his. "I'm not lying, Bruce—I just—this isn't a big concern right now, compared to...literally everything else we have to going on. It's just a broken hand. I break things all the time." I raise my brows, trying to convince him. He continues to look down at me, shaking his head once more. "I just don't want you to...hurt yourself. Seeing you hurt, it, it sets off something in me. Like an instinct." He takes a deep breath as if he has to calm himself for a moment. He pauses briefly, before continuing another whisper. "I just don't want to see you hurt."
