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Clint was muttering to himself as he trudged down the side of the dirt road, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down and shoulders hunched inward, as if that would help against the pervasive wind. He was freezing. His mutterings vacillated between bitching about the cold and what had driven him into it.
“That jackass couldn't just leave well enough alone,” he said, lodging a kick at a loose clump of dirt, sending it flying. He hugged the edge of the road more as a car rumbled by, but the woods and ditch lining the road did not lend itself to a walkable path and he didn’t want to twist an ankle.
A few minutes later he heard another car coming from behind him, but as he started to step to the side he realized it was slowing down. With a fierce growl he sped up his walk, trying to radiate ‘fuck off’ with his body language.
Undeterred, the car began to keep pace with him once the open passenger window was abreast of him. It was Bucky, because of course it was.
“Clint, get in the car. You’re being ridiculous.” Clint ignored him.
“Clint, come on. You can’t walk all the way back to town.”
“Watch me.”
“No, Clint, come on. Get in the car, come back to the cabin with me.”
“I don’t know how much clearer I can be that I don’t want to be with you right now.”
“Let me drive you somewhere then, you’ll freeze to death walking in this weather.”
“I’m not getting in a car with you.”
“Then call Natasha or someone to come get you.”
“Phone’s broken.”
“Of fucking course it is,” Bucky muttered just loud enough for Clint to hear, which renewed his ire. “Borrow mine then. Stop walking, let’s get you sorted out.”
“Fuck off, I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe I could believe that if your teeth weren’t chattering while you said it. Clint, I’m losing my damn patience. Get in the car.”
“No! Leave me alone.”
There really wasn’t room for it, but Bucky pulled the car over on the side as far as he could and put the flashers on. He grabbed something from the passenger seat, then jogged to catch up to Clint.
“Fuck off, Bucky.”
“I brought you your coat.” Bucky thrust it at Clint. Clint ignored it for a few seconds, but the cold broke his resolve pretty quickly. It wasn’t really accepting anything from Bucky when it was something he already owned, he reasoned with himself.
As he settled the jacket around his shoulders he immediately felt warmer—the material blocking the wind really helped. A ‘thank you’ was on the tip of his tongue before he remembered he was mad and petulantly bit the words back.
Clint resumed his original, slower, pace. There was no way he was out-pacing Bucky so he wasn’t going to waste his energy in a display of machoism. If he really was going to hike twenty miles he needed to pick a sustainable pace.
“What’s the plan? What are you even going to do if you make it all the way to town?”
“You don’t think I can make it? What, poor regular old human me can’t handle a literal fucking walk?”
“Clint, why do you –” Bucky cut himself off from saying something truly unhelpful, and started again. “Clint. It is over thirty miles, it’s almost midnight and it's only getting colder. It’s going to dip below freezing soon. I’m sure you can do it, but I think it’s a bad idea.”
“Not really interested in your opinion right now.”
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. Can you come back now?”
“Oh, you’re sorry. Well, isn’t that just amazing?” Derision was dripping off of Clint’s words. “Are you though? Or are you just hoping I’ll hear the words and forgive you?”
A long sigh escaped Bucky before he answered. “I really am, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”
“But you meant what you said.” The words were bitter and Clint angled his head away from Bucky, to stare into the forest as he tried to ignore the burning in his eyes. Fucking wind.
“I don’t think I meant it the way you took it. Damnit, Clint. You are more breakable and I do fucking wish you’d take better care of yourself. That doesn’t mean I think you’re worthless or can’t do anything, or whatever nonsense your brain twisted my statement into.”
“My brain twisted it into?” Clint snarled, coming to a halt and spinning to face Bucky who continued a few steps before realizing Clint wasn’t moving forward anymore. “What the hell else could you have meant?”
“I meant I fucking care about you and I worry about you. I didn’t say you can’t take care of yourself, I said you don’t take care of yourself, because you don’t! You put yourself last every time, or you put yourself in danger and you end up hurt all the time. You’re so goddamn worried about proving yourself during missions that you do dangerous shit instead of waiting two seconds for someone with an iron suit or increased healing factor to take care of it, and you get hurt. And one of these times you're going to get your goddamn self killed.”
“I’m. I’m not suicidal, Bucky.”
“Maybe you aren’t going out there hoping to get yourself killed, but I think some days you wouldn’t mind if it just happened to happen! That’s a problem.”
“That's not,” Clint started but Bucky overrode his words.
“And it’s not just a problem for me. The team needs you. If you fuck around and die, this team will fall apart. I don’t think anyone else can defuse Steve and Tony when they get going, or calm down Hulk when he’s in a rage, or see patterns in the fight the way you do. Natasha needs you. How do you think she’s going to cope if you get yourself killed?”
Clint huddled deeper into his coat, but this time it wasn’t the cold he wanted to escape.
“I need you. And I’m tired of thinking you aren’t going to come home every time you go out.”
“I’m not trying to get hurt during missions,” Clint protested finally, but the words felt weak even to his own ears. “It’s a dangerous job, shit’s going to happen.”
“Yeah, shit’s going to happen. But you can let it happen to someone else. You might not be actively trying to get hurt during missions but I don’t see you making any effort to avoid it either.” Clint turned his head to the side, staring at the forest again.
“Clint. Come back with me, get warmed up. Get some sleep. I’ll sleep on the couch, and if you still want to go in the morning I’ll drive you to town myself. But you running away isn’t gonna change any of what I said.”
“I don’t want you to think I can’t do my job,” Clint told the trees. Bucky stepped close enough to reach out and turn Clint’s chin with his fingertips. Clint jerked back at the sensation. “Cold,” he explained with a half-laugh.
“I know you can do your job. You’re fucking amazing at your job. I just want you to stay alive so you can keep doing your job. The first step to that is avoiding freezing to death, so can we go now?”
Part of Clint wanted to keep marching down the road; he didn’t want to acknowledge—or talk about—how much truth was in Bucky’s accusation. But a larger part was absolutely freezing and ready to have Bucky curl around him under their blankets.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Oh thank god,” Bucky said on a relieved exhale. “I get that you wanted to come out here to cool down but I’m freezing my nuts off. I hate being cold.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’ll always be worth it.”