first op was better but this is still nice


I got really nice surprise this evening - my pre-ordered Gangsta soundtrack arrived.. Day before the release! I was expecting this nice little package tomorrow.. :)

Anyway.. it is here and now I know what I will be listening today evening :) I also got (this time, luckily.. I missed the first set of stickers with ED and OP) Nicolas’ stickers. I still think the first set was better but they do look cute.

{ closed starter for recoveringrace }

Hunter could power through the bruised ribs well enough, but Coulson knew it was enough to handicap him and assigned him to cover with the sniper rifle from a safe distance away from the fray.

Safe, that was, until everything went to hell.

The first thing he felt was the impact to his shoulder, as if someone had punched him forcefully. But then he looked down and saw the blood, and no punch ever caused a gusher like that.

Bloody hell.

“I’m hit,” he gasped out over the comms. “It’s bad.”

He barely felt the pain when it kicked in, locking it away in a separate compartment in his brain and drawing on adrenaline to get him the hell away from the position somebody had clearly spotted out and into a better one from which he could still do some good. But the blood loss began tugging at his consciousness before long, and he was barely aware that their team was managing to turn the tide on the op before abruptly he wasn’t aware of anything any more.

He came to in a medical facility - that was good - and the first thing he noticed, looking around the room, was the enormous SHIELD logo on the wall. For once, he was relieved at the organization’s penchant for plastering that logo on everything. It was nice to wake up in the company of friends after passing out in the middle of a combat operation.

The second thing he noticed about the room was the patient asleep in the other bed.

Hunter blinked a few times, wondering whether he’d really regained consciousness or not. He knew those cheekbones, that jawline, that dark blonde hair, that nose that wrinkled when she was amused.

Concern lanced through him, as best it could with the still-foggy state of his mind. What the hell was she doing there?

“Excuse me,” he forced out groggily, as a nurse bustled into the room. “The woman in the other bed, what’s she in here for?”

The nurse, a kindly-looking older woman, tut-tutted him. “I can’t tell you that, dear. Patient confidentiality, you know. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask her when she wakes up.”

He sure as hell would. Hunter tried to stay awake until Grace woke up, but the combined effects of traumatic blood loss and four days of sleep deprivation soon dragged him back under against his will.