[ Her protest about his dying has about as much impact as the hail, which is to say none at all. It takes a lot more than that to kill him — he could stay out in it all night and he couldn't say with certainty that he'd even come out of it bruised. Even so it wouldn't matter, if there are people who need his help, and she knows that.
It's the protest about leaving him alone that gets his attention. He's heard it before more than once in his life, and he knows her, too; she means it, and he doesn't doubt her follow-through. If he goes, so does she, and she can't. That already has his eyes wide in the limited light, some kind of pleading in them not to say that to him, though he wouldn't be able to demand it of her out loud. He's not such a hypocrite.
It makes it easier to see the blood when it starts running down her cheek as quickly as it comes, and Steve makes the choice then without a second thought, pulling her under the nearest cover with the hand still on her arm. There's really nowhere out here completely safe from the storm, but it's better than nothing, and his body makes a more effective shield this way. He reaches up and wipes the blood and water away before he can think better of it, knowing that even if it hurts he won't see her wince. The wound, though not large in his brief glimpse, still begins to weep again immediately. ]
Stay here, I'll get the car.
[ Funny, he'd almost suggested they walk earlier to enjoy the weather — anything not to get in that eyesore — but Natasha had spent most of her day at the studio and he'd wanted to let her get off her feet, even if she never would've complained to him. He's glad for it now, if a little soulsick about his ability to do any good here, in this place. ]
no subject
It's the protest about leaving him alone that gets his attention. He's heard it before more than once in his life, and he knows her, too; she means it, and he doesn't doubt her follow-through. If he goes, so does she, and she can't. That already has his eyes wide in the limited light, some kind of pleading in them not to say that to him, though he wouldn't be able to demand it of her out loud. He's not such a hypocrite.
It makes it easier to see the blood when it starts running down her cheek as quickly as it comes, and Steve makes the choice then without a second thought, pulling her under the nearest cover with the hand still on her arm. There's really nowhere out here completely safe from the storm, but it's better than nothing, and his body makes a more effective shield this way. He reaches up and wipes the blood and water away before he can think better of it, knowing that even if it hurts he won't see her wince. The wound, though not large in his brief glimpse, still begins to weep again immediately. ]
Stay here, I'll get the car.
[ Funny, he'd almost suggested they walk earlier to enjoy the weather — anything not to get in that eyesore — but Natasha had spent most of her day at the studio and he'd wanted to let her get off her feet, even if she never would've complained to him. He's glad for it now, if a little soulsick about his ability to do any good here, in this place. ]