Bucky looks out the window at Budapest's skyline. The op was a bust and they're waiting for their extraction. He can hear Clint moving around the room behind him, checking his gear for the umpteenth time. Bucky has been trying to ignore the dull pounding in his skull from the lucky blow a guard got in. Clint's already twisted up enough over the bullet to his thigh so Bucky kindly didn't mention it but the constant moving is slowly driving him crazy. He doesn't need Clint to defend him as cute as the thought is.
“Just. Stop.” He grits out. “I'm shot, not incapacitated.”
“You have a concussion.”
“What?”
Clint comes over and sits beside him, moving Bucky's legs across his lap. His fingers linger on the bandage. “You have a concussion moron, so yea, I'm protecting you. You know you can't hide things from me.”
“Asshole.”
Clint smiles and looks back at the door. His hand remains on Bucky's thigh, drawing absent patterns. His other hand is curled around his bow and his quiver is within reach. Bucky can't deny it makes him feel a little better knowing the other man's got his back. He eventually covers Clint's hand with his own and entwines their fingers but otherwise they sit in silence.
There's a coded knock on the door. Clint yells come in. Both men keep their hands close to their weapons, just in case.
It turns out not to be a concern when Fury himself strides in. “Sir?” Bucky says first.
“Don't tell me the Security Council has finally demoted you,” Clint quips.
“We have to get you boys back and debriefed ASAP.” He's looking at Bucky as he talks and Bucky does not like that look. Clint stands and pulls Bucky's arm over his shoulder, helping him up. He doesn't need the support, but it feels good to have Clint pressed against his side. “We might have found him Barnes.”
“Found who?” He whispers because he already knows the answer.
“Captain America.”
He's led out to a waiting Quinjet where there's a medic ready to start poking and prodding at him but Clint shoos him away. They sit together in the back, listening to the drone of the engines carrying them away. Fury hands them a file but otherwise doesn't bother them. Bucky doesn't even open it. “What are you going to do?” Clint asks.
“Take a shower. Drag you to bed. Think tomorrow. Sound alright?”
Clint grins against his temple and murmurs that it sounds like the best fucking night they could have.
Fill - Not Dead Yet
oh god yes, didn't know i needed thisBucky looks out the window at Budapest's skyline. The op was a bust and they're waiting for their extraction. He can hear Clint moving around the room behind him, checking his gear for the umpteenth time. Bucky has been trying to ignore the dull pounding in his skull from the lucky blow a guard got in. Clint's already twisted up enough over the bullet to his thigh so Bucky kindly didn't mention it but the constant moving is slowly driving him crazy. He doesn't need Clint to defend him as cute as the thought is.
“Just. Stop.” He grits out. “I'm shot, not incapacitated.”
“You have a concussion.”
“What?”
Clint comes over and sits beside him, moving Bucky's legs across his lap. His fingers linger on the bandage. “You have a concussion moron, so yea, I'm protecting you. You know you can't hide things from me.”
“Asshole.”
Clint smiles and looks back at the door. His hand remains on Bucky's thigh, drawing absent patterns. His other hand is curled around his bow and his quiver is within reach. Bucky can't deny it makes him feel a little better knowing the other man's got his back. He eventually covers Clint's hand with his own and entwines their fingers but otherwise they sit in silence.
There's a coded knock on the door. Clint yells come in. Both men keep their hands close to their weapons, just in case.
It turns out not to be a concern when Fury himself strides in. “Sir?” Bucky says first.
“Don't tell me the Security Council has finally demoted you,” Clint quips.
“We have to get you boys back and debriefed ASAP.” He's looking at Bucky as he talks and Bucky does not like that look. Clint stands and pulls Bucky's arm over his shoulder, helping him up. He doesn't need the support, but it feels good to have Clint pressed against his side. “We might have found him Barnes.”
“Found who?” He whispers because he already knows the answer.
“Captain America.”
He's led out to a waiting Quinjet where there's a medic ready to start poking and prodding at him but Clint shoos him away. They sit together in the back, listening to the drone of the engines carrying them away. Fury hands them a file but otherwise doesn't bother them. Bucky doesn't even open it. “What are you going to do?” Clint asks.
“Take a shower. Drag you to bed. Think tomorrow. Sound alright?”
Clint grins against his temple and murmurs that it sounds like the best fucking night they could have.