Work Text:
Phil hit the water with a resounding impact. He narrowly avoided getting the wind knocked out of him. He spun around in the freezing and dark water, watching the air bubbles around him to orientate himself before kicking upwards and breaking the surface.
Gunshots fired all around him, his agents still taking ground against the HYDRA operatives at the god-forsaken ranch in the middle of nowhere. He made to swim to shore when he saw the HYDRA goon take aim at him. The crack of gunfire split the air and pain blossomed in Phil’s shoulder, the momentum shoving him back under the water for a moment. He resurfaced in time to see Clint barrelling towards the gunman on the back of a horse, bow in hand, reins in his mouth. The gunman never had a chance, falling to the ground with an arrow in an eyes socket and another buried in his throat.
Phil, who would later blame it on blood loss, watched with awe as, in a single fluid movement, Clint stowed his bow, spat out the reins, and the horse bucked its hindquarters up—launching Clint as if he were the arrow in a dive directly towards Phil in the reservoir, the fiery focus taking Phil’s breath away.
Clint hit the water, clean and controlled, the power behind his launch easily pushing him through the water until he was only a few feet away from his handler.
“Come’on, sir. It’s not a good time to take a bath.” Clint grinned.
“Really? I had heard these ponds were medicinal.” Phil grunted as Clint hooked an arm around his waist, and together they swam to the side of the pond. The gunfire had subsided, the agents’ chatter in the comm assured him of their success.
“Diving off of a horse. That’s a new one.” Phil sat on the ground, his shoes squelching, and tried not to slap Clint’s hands away as the sniper inspected the wound.
“You know me, sir, I’m just full of surprises.” Clint’s grin was wicked, Phil stared at him in return.
“How is it?”
“Well, I’m sorry to say you’ll need a new suit, but the shoulder is fine.” Clint held Phil’s arms, face serious.
“Yes?”
“Well, I’m concerned about the risk of infection. Who knows what was in that water.” Clint started, though his voice was light. “I think the best course of action is for you to have a shower. You’ll have to be supervised since you’ll most likely be on painkillers.”
“Are you volunteering?” Phil’s eyebrow rose in a challenge.
“I’m willing to take one for the team,” Clint replied, cocky.
Phil sighed, pushing the sniper away. “Help me up, agent.” Clint hauled Phil to his feet using his good arm. “A shower does sound good,” Phil sighed at the loss of his suit, pond scum clinging to the expensive fabric. “I may need someone to wash my back.”
The pair began walking back towards the meet-point, Clint sticking closer than was necessary to Phil. The sniper was grinning, thumbs casually looped through his belt. “Oh, the things I do for duty.”
Phil rolled his eyes but gave a small smile to the man next to him. “Let’s go home.”