Parental
Peter groaned as he was flung to the ground, rolling onto his feet, his eyes settling on Clint. "Come on, kid! Is that all you got?" They were sparring at the moment, since Peter wanted to improve his fighting style and Clint was feeling restless. Peter lunged at Clint, feinting an uppercut so he could score a swift kick to the older man's ribs; he grunted, but quick-stepped into Peter's space and socked him in the jaw, both of them hearing as his teeth clicked together as he was knocked back, landing hard on his back.
As Parker got to his feet, neither male noticed the door to the sparring area opening and closing, nor the person who came into the area until a boot was greeting Clint's face in the form of a round-house kick, sending the archer flying across the mat, bouncing off of it a couple of times before coming to a stop only ten feet from the wall. "Peter! Are you okay?!" It was Bucky. He was running over to Peter, seeing as the boy staggered a little before his arm was under his shoulders, holding him up. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." "If you were good, you wouldn't be bleeding." Peter hadn't even noticed that he was until Bucky pointed it out.
"I think he's done for today, Hawkeye." Barnes spoke, but when the other tried to argue, the Winter Solider gave him an icy death glare. Parker saw that Barton quickly raised his hands in surrender before the teen squeaked as Bucky scooped him up and carried him out of the area and back to his room.
Peter admits that he's never been in Bucky's room before. Yes, the duo have talked outside of the man's room, even in the doorway, but Peter respected Bucky and didn't intrude where he thought he wasn't wanted. It wasn't what he pictured it to be at all. There was a bookshelf that was stuffed with books from the 30's and 40's, as well as more recent ones. He had a desk that was littered with small pieces of something, a reading chair that had a large blanket draped over it, another desk that had a knife block and what looked like a million papers on it, and a queen sized bed that had black and dark blue sheets, a dark brown nightstand settled beside it.
Peter was set down on the bed and he watched as Bucky disappeared through another door that was in the room, coming back with a first aid kit. Bucky felt as Spider-Man's body heated up as he stripped him out of his shorts and t-shirt, leaving the lean muscled teenager in his briefs, but that's not what had the man's interest. What did was the numerous cuts, scrapes, and bruises that littered the kid's body. "That asshole doesn't hold back for shit..." Bucky growled under his breath as he pulled out an alcohol wipe and carefully disinfected all of the cuts and scrapes, frowning deeply and apologizing every time Peter hissed in pain and flinched.
Bucky's hands were gentle as he applied neosporin to a cut, bandaged it, and moved on to the next. Peter couldn't move his eyes from the older man, seeing the deep worry in his steel blues, the way he chewed his lip before apologizing whenever Peter felt pain. Barnes inspected all of the scrapes and dressed the ones that looked the worse or weren't in the nicest of spots, keeping any further irritation down as best as he could. Peter found himself holding his breath when Bucky's hands cradled his face, examining his busted lip and scraped cheek.
Bucky felt against his fingertips Peter's heartbeat racing as he slowly dragged the thumb of his flesh hand over the split in his lower lip, smearing away the blood enough to see the damage, which thankfully wasn't too bad. "...Looks worse than it is, but try to avoid chapping your lips for a little bit." Bucky told him, but Peter wasn't really paying attention to his words. The teen was more focused on his strong jaw, how soft his lips looked, his enticing 5 o'clock shadow, his sharp cheekbones, and just how intense and gorgeous his eyes were. A few strands of his long hair fell into his face and Peter sucked in a sharp breath when Bucky gave him that playful smirk with hinted bedroom eyes. "See something you like, babydoll?"
Peter's face turned rose red and he snapped his head down, forcing himself to break eye contact with the older, and now obviously more experienced, man. No! No, body please! Please, just...work with me right now. He felt himself start to stir in his briefs, which greatly confused him, but fuck he needed to not spring a boner right now. Bucky handed Peter back his clothes, threading his metal hand through his short, brown hair to get his attention back. "Just teasing. But, next time you want to spar with someone, come find me. I won't hold back, but I also won't hurt you either."
That was the only thing about Clint that annoyed Bucky; the man just didn't know how to restrain his movements enough to not hurt someone. I mean, it could be because he's used to sparring with Tasha, and by God does that woman not hold anything back, but that doesn't mean that someone like Peter, who's still learning his own style of fighting, would be able to avoid getting hit. Maybe I should talk to Stark about setting up a training program for Peter... At least it might keep him away from Clint's bad sparring habits for a while. "O-Okay. Um...see you around, Bucky." Peter spoke after he pulled his pants back on, darting out of the room quickly; Bucky saw that he was still blushing when he left.