Winterhawk Writing

Eighttttt

Bucky was... Bucky was hot. And Clint was sure it definitely was not okay to be this attracted to Steve's best friend, aka the Winter Soldier, aka exactly Clint's type. 'Cos for some reason he had a thing for guys with long hair and broody personalities.
Something about a bad boy persona had Clint more ensnared than a dog with a piece of ham. And Bucky was exactly that. He wore dark colors -even a leather jacket that had fueled quite a few of Clint's late night fantasies- his brown hair was shoulder length, and he had a jaw that could cut out someone's heart. Bucky had a tendency to carry around a small switch knife that he would flip languidly. Clint had almost come in his pants the first time he saw that.
Steve hated the little knife, said something about it not helping Bucky's new image as a hero. Bucky had just shrugged and flipped the knife a bit higher.
Bucky always wore his steel toed combat boots and Clint was a sucker for those. Something about those with Bucky's ass-hugging black jeans and worn leather jacket made Clint want to tackle him into the nearest soft surface. Or just push him up against the wall and smash his lips to Bucky's, maybe he would feel the burn of that dark stubble around his lips.
Speaking of his lips, Bucky had some sort of fixation with licking and biting them. Especially his plump, lower lip that Clint often found himself staring at while Bucky spoke. There had been a few times Tasha would have to elbow him to get him to focus on whatever was going around 'cos if he had his way those lips would be wrapped aro-
"Hey, Clint," Bucky's voice was deep with a raspy edge.
"Shit- fuck, Bucky. You scared the living fuck outta me," Clint grumbled and hugged his mug closer to his chest. Clint liked coffee.
"Mhm," Bucky plucked the mug from Clint's hand and took a generous slug.
Clint would do anything for coffee and it was a well known fact that if anybody touched his coffee they would find an arrow in a not-so-comfortable place. Bucky had managed to work his tight little ass past that rule and now would steal sips of Clint's coffee at any opportunity. Tasha would roll her eyes and give Clint some shit for not just fessing up his feelings.
Fuck, Clint wanted more than anything to tell the soldier how he felt, but Bucky had his own problems and Clint didn't feel like becoming another. So, yes, Tasha, he's gonna suffer in silence like he normally does.
"You're up early," Bucky rubbed the sleep out of his eye and passed Clint's mug back to him.
"Just got back from a mission," kinda stung that Bucky hadn't noticed he wasn't around.
"Oh, that's right. How was it?" Bucky watched Clint take a sip before handing the mug back.
Clint grumbled unintelligibly and Bucky got the hint; the mission had been rough. Now that Bucky's brain was no loner groggy with bad sleep, he started taking detail of Clint's appearance. He had bags under his eyes, one of his aides was missing, he had a split lip that still had a line of dry blood over his chin and down his neck. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, not lacking any blood stains.
"Have you been to Medical yet?" Bucky asked.
"When do I ever go to Medical first," Clint pulled a face.
Bucky shrugged, took a sip of coffee, and stood up. "Look, I hate Medical just as much as the next Avenger, but pal, you gotta."
"I'll do it myself, nothin' serious anyways," Clint grumbled and took the coffee back to gulp down the last sip.
Bucky sighed and grasped under Clint's armpits to lift him up. Clint jolted at first, but was too surprised to struggle against Bucky's grip. He was soon standing -when did his ankle start hurting?- and leaning heavily against Bucky.
"You're a dick," Clint said.
"A dick that's about to fix you up so you don't have to go to medical. Be nice," Bucky jostled Clint a bit as he positioned his shoulder under Clint's arm.
Clint was a very tall person, and Bucky was a bit on the shorter side at 5'10. Clint had to admit, he had never loved be 6'3 as much as he did when he was around Bucky. He loved setting his elbow on his shoulders, and making lame one-liners that had long since become stale and cliche: how's the weather down there? Need me to grab that for you? Bucky would rolled his eyes, maybe give Clint a bit of a shove or knock his elbow off of his shoulder.
Now, however, Clint's body was aching and the awkward hunch in his spine was less than desirable. Bucky hustled him along, it took a moment for him to notice they were going to Bucky's room. He didn't complain though, exhausting finally hitting him like a bus and he couldn't help but lean into the firmness of Bucky's side.
"Mind telling me what hurts the most?" Bucky asked once they had entered the room and settled into the bathroom.
Clint was sitting on the toilet while Bucky shuffled through his cabinets. When he found the first aid kit he laid it out and took note of the supplies inside.
"Nose, lip, ribs, think I got grazed by a bullet on my right thigh," Clint watched as Bucky deftly tore gauze and soaked it in disinfectant.
He left the gauze to grab a towel and wet it with warm water, carefully running it over Clint's face in an attempt to get some of the grit off. After he was relatively clean Bucky motioned at his shirt with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, sure," Clint lifted his arms and let Bucky tug it off.
"Erm- pants, too," Bucky mumbled, hands resting in the belt loops of his cargo pants.
"Go for it," Clint choked out, lifting his hips so Bucky could shimmy them down his thighs.
"Yeah, bullet definitely grazed you," Bucky was kneeling between his legs inspected the ragged tear on the pale flesh of his inner thigh.
Clint made some sort of grunt, forcing himself to look away from Bucky. A deep flush spread along his cheeks and chest.
"It seems the worst out of everything so I'm gonna work on it first," Bucky grabbed the gauze and delicately began to clean away the blood so he could get a clear view of the wound.
Clint flinched at the first cool touch and sting of the gauze, glancing down to see Bucky staring up at him cautiously. "M fine, you keep going."
Bucky worked methodically. He thoroughly cleaned and wrapped the graze before moving up to his ribs, gently feeling and pressing his hands into them.
"Bruising indicates a few fractures," Bucky murmured, fingers kneading the flesh. "Nothing too bad, I'll wrap you up nice and tight and you can get painkillers from Medical tomorrow." Bucky said.
"Sounds good," Clint leaned forward at Bucky's tugs and lifted his arms so Bucky could wrap his ribs. He tried to ignore the soft grazes of Bucky's nose and hair when he had to lean forward to get the roll around his back.
"Now your face," before he was prepared Bucky had gently grabbed his jaw to tilt his face from side to side. "Jesus, Barton. Did'ya run into a brick wall again?"
Clint cracked a painful grin. Bucky rolled his eyes and began to clean each of the small cuts littering Clint's face. Clint couldn't even look at him, choosing to keep his eyes strained at the ceiling. Occasionally, Bucky would exhale softly and his warm breath would tickle Clint's cheek.
"Uh, thanks you for this," Clint said.
"Shh, 'm trying to clean your lip," Bucky chastised softly and pressed his thumb against Clint's lip to expose the cut to clean it.
He heard the shallow intake of breath from Clint, caused his eyes to flicker up to Clint's wide, blue ones.
"Is.. is this okay?" Bucky's throat bobbed, fingers releasing Clint's lip.
Clint was too flushed to speak, his eyes darting down to follow the path of Bucky's tongue across his bottom lip before it was tugged between his teeth. It was Bucky's turn to flush at the intensity of Clint's gaze.
Fuck it. Bucky leaned forward, careful of the cut, and pressed his lips to Clint's. Soft, firm, malleable beneath his. Clint was frozen for only a moment before he fell into Bucky's rhythm. He had to bend down since he was perched on the toilet, and Bucky had sunk down to his calves. He brought his hands up to cup that razor sharp jaw, sliding one back to grasp at Bucky's rich strands of hair. Spreading his thighs wider, he guided Bucky back up to his knees and pushed his tongue between Bucky's plump lips.
Bucky's calloused hands slid from the soft skin of his thighs to spread along the muscled planes of his stomach, careful of the bruising. They eventually settled on his bare hips and kept a firm grip there.
Clint's hands had set to roaming as well. His fingers whispered along the rough stubble of Bucky's jaw while his other had slid and cupped his throat loosely. Bucky keened into the touch.
Clint pulled back to suck in a sharp breath, his eyes closed. Bucky was out of breath as well. He had his forehead pressed against Clint's cheek while his fingers gave a small squeeze to Clint's hips.
"Oh," Clint said hoarsely.
Bucky laughed, raspy and content, before finally pulling back to look at Clint. "Hey, beautiful."
Aw, pet names. Clint was a sucker for those. "Hey."
"How 'bout I take you out for some breakfast, hm?" Bucky's thumb swiped along Clint's bottom lip, checking on the cut.
Clint nodded, unable to keep himself from tumbling forward into another breathless kiss.

Apparently I'm incapable of writing short drabbles bc this was another 1500+ word fic. Love that.