Bucky gets flirty after missions especially when Steve’s gotten a little cut up, but he did a really good job punching out nazis today and he just wants to make Cap feel all better. YouNah’w’aMean? ;)
It stings something awful. Steve had taken a whole lungful of that abrasive powder and although it hadn’t gone down pretty, it hadn’t been enough to really put him down for the count—he’d been able to land in a couple more hits before Bucky swung in and torn out the mechanism that kept the robot spewing gas. A couple of neat shots from Sam sent the robot toppling to the ground, and after the fight was done and Tony was helping to clear the flipped cars out of the way, Nat handed Steve a lukewarm chamomile tea from some half-ruined cafe on the street.
Bucky came over to sit beside him on the steaming wreck of a Hydra-made machine, and Steve rummaged through Bruce’s first aid kit to gently tape some gauze over a deep cut onto Bucky’s bare ribs under his left pectoral. On anyone else besides Steve, it was the kind of wound that would have needed stitches, but for them, some slight pressure would be good enough to staunch the flow until the flesh knitted back together on its own.
"Missed a spot," Bucky snickers, and reaches over to slap a small adhesive bandage onto the far side of Steve’s jaw; he brushes some dried blood away from Steve’s skin as he does so. He sighs, and pulls Steve’s arm across his lap to lay another bandage over an ugly scrape. "You gonna start wheezing on me?"
Steve shakes his head, and takes a sip of his tea. There’s milk in it, and the dairy helps his throat build up phlegm to insulate against the abrasives in the gas. A couple of more gulps is enough to make him cough out a bloody lump of something onto the cracked asphalt—Bucky goes stiff and squeezes his elbow. His voice goes low, soothing. “C’mon, I’m still missing a whole lot but I’ve got too many memories that start with you spitting red. I’d rather you be red in the face and swallowing—”
This time, Steve splutters on his milk tea and it dribbles down his chin and onto his torn uniform. “Or yeah, that too,” Bucky adds, helpfully. He pats at Steve’s flushed face with the rough canvas and kevlar of his shed jacket. The fabric isn’t absorbent at all, and Steve swats at Bucky’s hand as he rises to his feet and starts walking over to where Sam and Clint are attempting to pry loose a panel from the “boss-bot”, or whatever Tony had called it. Natasha’s swinging her legs from her perch upon a teetering slab of pavement while she taps at a holographic tablet, speaking to Bruce halfway across the city.
It’s a little difficult to navigate the uneven street, and Steve’s left knee hasn’t healed itself fully yet. Earlier, he’d been grabbed by the leg and swung like a ragdoll into an armored bank vehicle. His left side had taken most of the impact, but the sharp pain persisted, dying out to a faint, pulsing throb in his joints after an hour or so.
He hears Bucky catch up with him and loop a tender hand around his elbow for support. Chapped lips brush over Steve’s bruised shoulder. “I got you,” Bucky murmurs. “When we wrap up here, I’m gonna kiss you all better.”
Steve blinks through a hot bloom of affection in his chest, and curls his mouth into a smirk. It hurts to do so, and his irritated skin splits slightly at the motion. “All better?” he quips. He probably shouldn’t have said anything, not with the way he’d sounded like he’d been gargling glass and swallowing barbed wire at the same time. Steve grimaces. It sure felt like it, too.
“All better,” Bucky repeats, nuzzling into Steve’s shoulder. They draw to a slow stop when Bucky uses his tongue to delicately clean away the grit embedded into Steve’s burning, abused skin—it’s painful to even sigh in relief, but Bucky fixes him a old scowl that’s more familiar than all the aches of war. “I hear one peep out of you and I’ll put Stark on your patch-up duty. Sam could use some TLC, look at ‘im, cozying up with prickly ol’ Clint.”
Steve glances over to see them arguing about something. There’s a couple of bruises in sight, but nothing quite as serious as what Steve had been saddled with. He turns his attention back to Bucky and mouths, just one? It earns him a kiss at the less-oozy corner of his lips. Just one, Steve feels spoken silently back against the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. Just one.
THis is IT. Fuckin’ cute. All for mee. -prints it out and eats it-