Wounded

All characters belong to Marvel Comics

(Edited by LeDbrite)

"Remind me again why do I always listen to you, punk?" Bucky digressed out a disgruntled growl, his voice strained with exhaustion. He stood in front of the mirror, feeling the coldness of the tile penetrate inside the bones of his bare feet. He chanced himself a look at his reflection, his unnerving steel azure eyes smudged with dark kohl, bandage strips wrapped over his forehead with bloodied gauze covering his left eye.

I kill him...

His full lips swollen at the edges, but he managed to hold a firm line as he tasted the metallic tang drip along the walls of his perched throat. His thick and defining jaw covered with scruff, long shoulder length brown hair matted and draped over his intense glower. He was battered, thick and sculpted muscles covered in dark bruises, his iron like biceps etched with crescent and deep scars, and leaking out maroon. His chest painted with strains of blood, wrist had been compromised and the firm skin of his graven torso rough with grime.

Withdrawing a step back, grimacing and seething out his pain. Everything throbbed, blood churned with knots and lips craved for a taste of winter. Carefully, he lifted up his glass to his lips, taking a small sip, and tried to ease the pain. Mentally he was reaffirming his decision to go out into the field with Captain America. He'd be the backup, an elusive sniper on the rooftop, with his scope rifle armed and readied to engage when Steve gave him the nod. It never turned out to be an easy mission. He got caught in the crossfire, vaulted off the rooftop from an explosion, and then crashed into an armed truck, full force impact that jostled every bone in his body. He was bloodied, sweaty and pumping out shards of metal when Steve carried him back to apartment.

Folding his arms over his pectorals, Bucky pressed the bare planes of his back against the wall, his frown deepened into a scowl that soon vanished as he stared directly at Steve leaning against the doorway. Taking another sip, his lips upturned into a dark smirk as he raked his intense blue eyes over his friend. He brushed away a dark lock of hair dangling over his slacked brow. "Is it my bad vision or do you like hell, Stevie?"

Steve remained silent and pliant, he staggered over to the sink, his wounds leaving a blood trail behind him. "We both had our share of pain today, Buck." he echoed back, turning the cold water tap, and slashing water over his bruised jaw, washing away the trickles of blood held in the chiseled lines of his face. "I could have never saved that mother and her son without you watching my back."

"Don't mention it," Bucky merely replied in a low hiss, his teeth gritted as he jerked slightly when a muscle spasm twisting through his rib cage.

He scanned his bleary gaze of steely azure over Steve's tall and muscular body; his spangled uniform had been almost ripped into shreds, red and blue threads hung over his bruised abdomen, ghosting against the skin. Right shoulder, was swollen with a grayish tinge, and his boyish and humble face smeared with lines of blood, a cut was across the bridge of his pointed nose. A bandage was coiled over the crown of his head, golden hair drenched and ruffled. His crystal blue eyes dazzling in the dim light caressing over them as his soft lips curved into a lopsided smirk.

"Look at us, Buck," Steve chuckled hollowly, grabbing his best friend, and pulling him close to the sink. Bucky stiffened and glared at him with a lethal stare. "We're two wounded soldiers, out of time and discovering a new existence while fighting for humanity's freedom."

"Whatever," Bucky snarled against his clamped teeth, sore and irritable. He threw a blood drenched cotton ball into Steve's face, trying to escape from his friend's brotherly warmth. Then, he banged into the door, and stumbled backwards, yanking on a towel with his metal hand as he almost collided with the floor, but Steve caught him with the grace of his hooked arm supporting his back. Instead of growling like a snarling wolf, Bucky cracked a grin and started laughing with a lightness brushing over his damaged heart. He was completely in a daze. "How bad does my face look now?" he asked, feeling the pressure reach the bridge of his nose.

"You're still ugly..." Steve admitted in a teasing voice.

Bucky rolled his eyes up at him, smiling before slipping out of his hold and back to the sink, and grabbed a pile of cotton balls, holding his ammo in the nest of his broad arms. He locked his blue eyes on Steve with a mischievous smirk playing over his full lips. "Better grab your shield, Rogers." he dared, glinting dangerously. "This is payback."

Steve moved out into the hallway, smiling with boyish delight, and then prepared himself as Bucky bombarded him with the cotton, making noises out explosions and laughing at a few balls landed into Steve's shorten locks. "I wasn't ready, James Barnes," Steve growled, raking the cotton out of his hair.

"I know and that gives me the advantage for a invasive attack," Bucky taunted back, his lips compressed into a cocky grin. "You better start running...because I'm going to get you, Stevie."

"You know that we're in our ninety's?" Steve replied, backing into a wall, as the intimidating Winter Soldier stalked closer with slow and methodical footing.

Shrugging, Bucky whipped another ball at Steve's head. "You look good for your age, old man."

"I can't say the same about you," Steve retorted back, throwing a ball directly at Bucky's chest. "...And that's the honest truth, pal."

Growling under his breath, Bucky lunged at him, but Steve dodged to the side, making his friend crash into the wall. "You're going to be the death of me, punk," he clenched his jaw. "I get more injuries from you than I ever did in the war. You're a dangerous man to be hanging with, Rogers."

Steve shrugged carelessly, gazing at his friend's battered features. "What do you expect; I'm a kid from Brooklyn."

"When I get rid of this headache," he groaned, pressing his lips tight." I'm going to throw ice cubes at your tight a**."

"Knowing you, Bucky Barnes, you'll probably be crashing on the couch before you make it to the kitchen," Steve said, his lips curling into a playful smirk as another fistful of cotton balls ricocheted off his firm, and bruised chest.

"How come I can never stay mad at you?" Bucky dropped the balls to the floor, his heart prompted him to move closer, and he enclosed his metal arm over Steve, pulling his blood brother into a tight, protective and forgiving hug. He closed his eyes tight, and let himself drift, soaking the warmth of his friend, feeling Steve's resilient heart beat against his own, reminding him that he wasn't alone, and he kept his lips formed into a light smile, and slowly felt all his pain melt at the moment Steve shielded his injured frame with a brotherly embrace.

"How to do you feel now, Buck?" Steve whispered, watching Bucky slit his good eye open, just enough to show him a shimmer of pale blue underneath disheveled strands of hair.

"I'll let you know in the morning..."