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“It wasn’t that bad.”
Lesser men had run from the scowl Bucky leveled at Steve.
“Steve, you think defenestration isn’t that bad. You jump out of airplanes without parachutes. I think we can all agree that your definition of ‘not that bad’ is a bit fucking skewed .”
Steve grumbled ‘you jump through a window one time …’, but otherwise didn’t argue as Bucky helped him from the elevator into their suite in Stark Tower.
The mission had been relatively simple, all things considered. A Hydra base in Hoboken wasn’t the weirdest thing they’d ever dealt with, though Clint had laughed at him when he’d expressed distaste at having to go to New Jersey. The clean-up had been underway, and they thought they’d rounded up all the Hydra goons. Obviously they’d missed one, because one moment Steve was talking to Agent Hendricks about getting the prisoners transported, and the next he was on the ground, his right leg on fire. In the ensuing chaos, Clint had taken down the shooter before he’d had a chance to take out anyone else, and Steve was just lucky the guy was a crappy shot. The bullet hadn’t hit any major arteries, which was good, but it had hit his femur and broken it before bouncing off and exiting. SHIELD medical had set it and put an immobilizing brace on just to help stabilize it, but it would heal on its own in a few days. He just had to stay off it until then. It just so happened that Bucky had made it his own personal mission to make sure Steve followed directions.
The pain from the injury was already lessening; the bullet wound would be healed by the end of the night, two shiny pink dimples the only evidence left of the entry and exit wounds. As they made it from the elevator lobby to their living room, the smell of Indian food hit him, and his stomach let out a complaining rumble.
Clint popped his head out of the kitchen. “Hey guys, I’m almost done getting everything together. Have a seat, I’ll be right out.”
By the time Clint made it to the living room with all the food and bottles of various things to drink, Bucky had installed Steve on the center cushion of the couch, dragging the ottoman closer so they could get his leg propped up comfortably. Steve eyed Clint as he set the bags of food and drinks down on the coffee table and started pulling things out and opening them.
“How did you get here so fast? And get food? I thought you’d still be in debrief.”
Clint winked at him, handing him a container full of chicken tikka masala and a fork before taking his own container and settling in next to Steve. “Special dispensation. My Dom was injured, don’t ya know. Besides, everyone knows what a handful you are when injured, and they thought Bucky might need the help.”
Bucky barked a laugh. “Please. I’ve been handling his prickly ass since we were kids. If I can’t handle him at this point I don’t think I’m ever gonna.”
Steve opened his mouth to argue and Clint deftly popped a samosa in, surprising Steve into biting down on it, and by the time he’d finished eating it, he’d lost his train of thought and Bucky and Clint were discussing something about the episode of Great British Bake-off they were watching.
It took Steve actually getting full for him to realize just how much food there was. His, and Bucky’s to a lesser extent, metabolism ran pretty high normally, but when he was healing something it sprang into overdrive. For him to eat enough to be pleasantly full and there still to be food leftover- well he boggled a bit.
“Clint, how much food did you actually order?”
Clint blushed slightly, clearing his throat with a sheepish look. “I might have asked JARVIS to just order three of everything from that Indian place on Allen Street you like. You were talking about it earlier, and I know you need more when you’re healing, so...and it’s not like we won’t eat it-”
Something warm burbled up in Steve’s chest.
“Aw, sweetheart, you don’t have to explain. Thanks for thinking of me.” Steve put a light hand on the back of Clint’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Clint melted into him, resting a hand on Steve’s chest for balance.
“Oh sure, I only helped haul your ass back here. I’m just chopped liver I guess.”
Steve snorted, breaking away from his kiss with Clint to turn and get a handful of Bucky’s hair, tugging him close so their noses were almost touching.
“You’re a demanding brat, you know that, right?”
Bucky grinned. “A bit, but you love it.”
“Yeah I do.” Steve kissed Bucky on the nose, and then let go of his hair, laughing at Bucky’s disgruntled muttering.
Sinking back into the couch, with a full stomach and the solid warmth of his subs on either side of him, Steve let himself drift off into a much needed nap.