You Don’t Have to Have a Reason
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes
Warnings: NSFW, anal sex, bottom!Bucky, top!Steve, injury, hurt/comfort.
Leaning against a work bench, watching Shuri work at the bloody gash in Bucky’s left pectoral, Steve stands with his arms folded over his chest, a fine, only slightly distressed furrow between his brows.
“You’re not dying. It only hurts like you are,” Shuri says, not looking at Bucky. Her kimoyo beads sing from her wrist, and touching one of them, the bleeding from Bucky’s chest begins to slow as a soft, red glow illuminates the wound.
Bucky exchanges a glance with Steve. His eyes are tired; Steve can always tell when Bucky’s coming down hard from a mission, when he puts too much of himself into the fighting; loses Bucky and becomes the White Wolf. Sometimes battle consumes him, tunnel vision unlike anything he’s seen since he was the Winter Soldier and nothing could derail his focus.
“Does he need to spend the night in the med bay?” Steve asks, turning his worried gaze onto Shuri.
“Not this time,” she says, focused on cleaning Bucky’s wound. “Next time, maybe. You become reckless when you fight. You have to be more careful.”
Bucky looks to Steve to see if he’ll come to his defense, but Steve only looks like he agrees with Shuri. And he does. At Steve’s behest, Bucky is learning to take better care of himself, but he’s still not familiar with the concept of self-preservation during battle. All he knows is offense. Defense is still a strange concept.
They look at each other for a long time. Bucky’s bare shoulders are tight, rigid, his back curved with a slouch. He looks guilty, somehow, like he’s done something wrong; or pleading, like he wants something from Steve, but Steve can’t guess what it is.
