Here’s what Clint knows: none of this is his fault. Seriously, he knows as one of the few non-enhanced, non-powered/magic, non-specially trained heroes around he’s got a bit of a rep for getting nabbed. Given that he doesn’t have the beginnings of a wicked migraine, only a mild one, “This is your fault, Bucky.”
Bucky grunts behind him. Clearly, he still hasn’t chewed his way through the cloth around his mouth. Or he just doesn’t want to talk to Clint, which is fair enough.
”I’m just saying,” Clint begins, grunting when Bucky’s wiggling ends with an elbow somewhere around his spleen. “I told you to duck.”
Clint shifts, elbowing Bucky back as much as he can. They’re currently wrapped shoulder to ankle, half mummified sitting back to back. It’s annoyingly well done, Clint’s arms crossed over his chest, fist balled tight and individually wrapped. He’s gotta give them credit, it’ll take him a minute to Houdini his way out of this one. He wonders how Bucky is doing.
Bucky lets out a low grunt and Clint can feel his muscles tensing behind him. Bucky shifts, and Clint ends up shifting with him by way of bandage bondage. “Stop that,” he snaps.
Bucky grunts behind him, “Sorry.”
Clint frowns. He hadn’t actually thought that Bucky didn’t want to speak to him, but damn. “Yeah,” Clint sighs. “Look, can’t you super-serum your way out of this one?”
Bucky leans forward suddenly, and Clint growls, “Dude, stop that!”
”Don’t call me dude,” Bucky snaps back. “I was trying to ‘super-soldier’ my way out. Like you asked.”
Clint considers it for about three seconds, and then leans forward until Bucky grunts and snaps them back upright. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Clint grunts out.
”Aren’t you supposed to be flexible?” Bucky keeps squirming, but it feels less like, trying to escape, and more like, uncomfortable.
Clint shrugs, feeling Bucky’s shoulders go up as well. “Didn’t get to stretch today,” he excuses. Not to mention millions of injuries and the limitations of his suit and a million other things.
Clint tries to stretch his fingers, but between the cramp that had already been building from shooting earlier and the intense wrappings, it’s gonna take him a long time to make any progress. Behind him, Bucky lets out another grunt, this one a little lower and bordering on pained. Clint frowns.
“You okay?”
Bucky just grunts and wiggles a little more. For a while, Clint lets him, lets Bucky grumble and whine and shift around. After a while though, he’s sweaty and his muscles are aching from the stiff sitting and he’s annoyed. “Damn, Bucky, will you fucking quit?”
”Thought you wanted us to get free,” Bucky snaps back. He sounds breathless though, like he’s speaking through his teeth.
”Seriously, though, are you okay?” Clint asks.
“I’m fine,” Bucky snaps. But he’s loosely wiggling his hips which is causing Clint’s bindings to cut into him strangely. He doesn’t hate the sensation. Bucky lets out another moan, this one lower and longer than the previous and Clint will die before he acknowledges the electric pulse that shoots through him.
He bites down on the inside of his cheek when he realizes Bucky’s breathing in these strange, panty huffs. It’s… hot. Not that Clint will say that out loud.
Except, his ass is suddenly quite hot. He becomes aware of the way Bucky’s breath is one long exhale and there’s a near silent hissing sound he’d miss if it weren’t for Tony’s aids.
He waits until Bucky’s back is less tense against his own before he casually asks, “Did you just piss on us?”
Bucky is extremely quiet, and then there’s the sound of ripping fabric. “Shut the fuck up. Let’s get outta here.”
Clint frowns when Bucky comes around, pants soaked through, to finish unwrapping him. “Yeah, I’m gonna need a minute,” he says sheepishly.
Bucky glances at him, and then down at the prominent bulge in his pants.
“Seriously, Clint?” Bucky rolls his eyes as he squats over Clint to unbind him.
“What? You make those same noises when I’ve got my mouth on your cock…”