A/N: Written for Winterhawk Week 2015 Day 3 - Hot
Burnt
"Ow! Watch out!"
Clint flinches bodily when the cloth touches his arm, and he bites at the inside of his cheek, suppressing a hiss.
"Sorry" Bucky mumbles, eyes focused on the rather nasty injury. Well, Clint's left arm is pretty much out of order since it's burnt from the shoulder down to his wrist, sparing little. The skin's tender and peeling off, leaving raw flesh and his arm looks like fresh from the oven.
Clint doesn't watch as Bucky attends to his wound, he feels as if he might pass out would he actually see what his partner is doing. In fact, taking a nap does sound quite inviting.
The room is freezing but Clint's arm feels as if it's gone up in flames, the pain numbing his senses and burning his brain.
"You need to learn to look after yourself" Bucky chides him as he cleans the upper part of the wound.
"Yeah, well, mission required drastic measures" Clint presses out through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut when another wave of hot pain rushes through his body.
"Clint, I mean it."
Belatedly, Clint realises that Bucky's stopped working and he cautiously opens his eyes, chancing a look at him. Bucky looks murderous and Clint winces.
"I'm sick of you being so reckless with yourself. I don't even want to count the times you nearly died and only didn't because either Steve or Nat or I saved your goddamn ass. You'll get yourself killed if you don't-" Bucky chokes on the last word and Clint feels his heart constrict painfully. His eyes never leave Bucky's and the grey he's learnt to love looks a little watery and no, he can't have that.
"Bucky-" he begins but his beloved soldier cuts him off.
"I'm serious, Clint, if you don't come home from a mission one day, I swear, I'll find you and kill you with my bare hands." There's a waver in his voice and Clint's never seen Bucky so close to tears.
"I didn't mean… I'm sorry, Bucky" Clint whispers and brings his good hand up to gently touch at Bucky's cheek and when a single tear drops onto his hand it nearly breaks him in half. He's never seen Bucky cry before. The hurt in his eyes burns more painfully than his arm and all he wants is to kiss it away. Bucky leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment and pressing a light kiss to the palm of Clint's hand.
"I'm so sorry, Bucky" Clint breathes and Bucky looks at him, intense grey studying his features and then he relaxes slightly, the tension not quite leaving his body.
"All right, you twat, let's get you bandaged up."
"Be careful, yeah?" Clint squints at Bucky's hands out of the corner of his eye and prepares himself for another round of pinching and burning.
"Only if you stop getting yourself hurt." The seriousness in Bucky's voice almost kills Clint.
He attempts a small smile, trying to be reassuring. "I can't promise, but I'll try."
"Idiot" Bucky snorts and then he leans forward and claims Clint's mouth in a chaste, yet desperate kiss.
Clint wraps his good arm around Bucky's neck and Bucky takes it as an invite to heave him out of the chair he's sitting on and gather him to his chest, holding him in a tight embrace.
Clint buries his head in Bucky's shoulder.
"I'll try" he whispers honestly.