Regarding the sweet and affectionate meme, can you do Mercyhog for #2?

itshigh-boop:

“I simply cannot see how you can wander around this blistering heat with so little to protect yourself from it, Mako,” Angela says as she wipes a few sweaty strands of hair out of her face. 

The junker sighs behind his mask, the sound rattling and heavy while he sifts through the scrap heap. “Complaining about the heat is like complaining about not having clean water out here,” Mako comments, inspecting an rusted motor. “It’s pointless. You’re just making yourself hotter, doc.” 

The doctor scoffs, pushing aside a pile of garbage with her boot. “Just another thing that needs to be addressed.” 

“I’m wearing the mask,” Mako gruffs. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“You’re going to get burnt.” Angela passes him a look. “Your skin will be half cooked by the time we’re done here.” 

He looks over his shoulder, seeing Angela with her back to him while she attempts to finding suitable parts for the power generator they’re trying to build. It’s not exactly her area of expertise and beyond her heckling, he’s appreciative of her presence and assistance. 

Lifting his hands, Mako undoes the latches to his mask, letting the thick, black leather cover slip from his face and holds it as he walks toward the doctor. His footsteps announce his coming and she turns, brows furrowed in annoyance until she’s hidden in his shade and sees his grey eyes. 

“Mako-!”

Even now, with her pretty face smudged with dirt and oil, platinum locks now sporting a healthy coat of clay dirt, and her body hosting a number of scrapes and burns, she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

He doesn’t even have to lean down all the way anymore. His arm spreads open and she instinctively seeks out his support, letting his muscles carry her weight as he lifts her to his level. Angela grabs the sides of his exposed face and their lips meet. His fingers thread through her greasy, sweat-soaked hair before cupping the back of her neck. She tilts her head, letting her lips peck at his, slowly letting their mouths meld together, until he opens his and her tongue pushes through. She rests against his belly and chest as they kiss and Mako lets Angela maneuver his head this way and that to her liking. When he feels her tongue playfully swipe just behind his front teeth, he grunts and she pulls away, smiling.

Mako stares, expression passive but enjoying the quiet that settles over them. Her thumbs rub into his cheeks, taking care to not push against the scar that runs over his face. Her fingers begin moving toward the back of his head and suddenly the press of her digits into his skin burns. 

He hisses, pulling his head back. “What the hell, Angela?!”

“Sun burn,” she replies coolly. “The skin on your face that isn’t covered is bright red. I knew the mask wasn’t enough.” She pats his chest and he loosens his grip, letting her slide down back to her feet. “We’re getting sunblock whenever we have the chance.” 

Mako snorts. “You’ve seen any damn drugstores around?” The cry of a vulture overhead seems to echo his question. 

Angela folds her arms over. “We are treating your burns,” she states simply while walking away. “Our needs won’t be met if you’re in pain just from a simple touch.” 

Her words take a moment to register but now he’s the one feeling the unbearable heat of the Australian sun. He grumbles something about stubborn women while quickly slipping his mask back on.