…
(Source: flawlessfoods, via sithybusiness)
I guess even superheroes get sick sometimes.
He smirked, tossing the bottle that he had in his pocket toward Clint. “Sadly, garlic is not a pain killer. There.” Bucky was the person who used so much pain killer, that he started becoming immune. Especially recently. So, more often than not, he used alcohol instead; Or a mixture. His liver was probably trash by now.
A chuckle burst in his throat at that. “Immoral punishment,” he teased, making eye contact. And then, in a split second, he leaned in and kissed the bowman, hand on his neck and tongue intruding the others mouth for a moment before pulling away. It lasted a mere two seconds. “You taste better than you smell; Toothpaste will clear that up.”
Clint caught it easily, downing two pills dry before putting the bottle on the table. Pain killers were something Clint was familiar with, considering his line of work. He wasn’t immune to them JUST yet, but he sometimes had to resort to stronger drugs than asprin. Fortunately this was not one of those times. He sat up straight again, shifting on the couch, turning to look at Bucky, about to make a sarcastic quip before their lips met and suddenly there was tongue in Clint’s mouth and then it was over before Clint could really register what happened.
Not that it really phased him.
He smacked his lips, making a quizical expression, “You sure? The taste in my mouth says otherwise.” He said matter-of-factly, standing up to go brush his teeth. Blood rushed to his head and he faltered a bit before he straightened up and headed for the bathroom, sorta. Okay…maybe he was more sick than he thought he was.
“I seem to have misplaced the bathroom…I’m pretty SURE its down this hallway.”
He nodded at being sure, but then shrugged his good arm. Bucky could taste the garlic, the raw bite to it, and than another taste that he passed off as being Clint’s flavor. Would it be too much to admit he liked it? Not really. Never before has he been completely asexual, though on missions it was inevitable. He had urges and, even with the idea of not looking for someone when he returned home, the idea of Clint being around was sort of nice.
As soon as he made plans to get up, Bucky protested, moving up off the couch. “Hey, no rush,” but it was too late, the other having it in his head to get from his seat. His hand gripped gently onto the arm of the sick archer, right above the elbow, to steady him as they both walked in the direction of the bathroom.
(via arrowsarekindamything)
(via joan-watson)
I guess even superheroes get sick sometimes.
Tilting his head, his gaze soft and amused as he watched Clint and his silent battle between whether or not to take the odd remedy. Definitely wasn’t the tastiest cures, but it worked very well. When Delsym wasn’t obtainable, knowing about things that were closer to home like this came in handy.
“Vampires, and half the city,” he teased, playfully fanning away Clint’s new garlic-breath. He just rolled his eyes at the Dr. Barnes comment, setting off to get his sick friend some black tea that he previously brewed. Second best thing, and it would wash out the taste. Leaning back into the other side of the couch, he glanced over. “How are you, besides the obvious?”
“Besides the cold? Not bad. My legs are a little stiff though. You hidin’ any asprin in that magical medicine cabinet of your’s or do I have to take more garlic?” Clint teased, grinning despite his cold. It wasn’t a serious cold, at least it didn’t seem like one, just a 24 hour type thing. But knowing Clint, he wouldn’t allow himself the bedrest needed to get rid of a 24 hour cold.
He leaned back against the couch, looking up at Bucky and grinning, almost purposefully breathing towards the other’s face while he talked, “This is your punishment for feeding me garlic of all things. I’m sure I smell delicious. Like a goddamn Italian place.”
He smirked, tossing the bottle that he had in his pocket toward Clint. “Sadly, garlic is not a pain killer. There.” Bucky was the person who used so much pain killer, that he started becoming immune. Especially recently. So, more often than not, he used alcohol instead; Or a mixture. His liver was probably trash by now.
A chuckle burst in his throat at that. “Immoral punishment,” he teased, making eye contact. And then, in a split second, he leaned in and kissed the bowman, hand on his neck and tongue intruding the others mouth for a moment before pulling away. It lasted a mere two seconds. “You taste better than you smell; Toothpaste will clear that up.”
(via arrowsarekindamything)
I guess even superheroes get sick sometimes.
“We don’t need you sneezing everywhere,” he chuckled quietly when he left for the kitchen, his words a sad excuse of a comeback. It was a surefire thing that he cared, but admitting it aloud? Not exactly his cup of tea.
The facial expression, and reaction, was expected but it still caused him to rub his eyebrow in slight frustration. “Home remedy. After, I’ll get you whatever else you want… but you should really eat the damn garlic. For me?”
Clint looked down at the garlic, then at the water, then at Bucky, then back at the garlic. There was a pause, Clint making a face very similar to the kind kids would make when faced with green beans or spinach or something. It wasn’t that Clint didn’t LIKE garlic, it was just the idea of eating it raw that was a bit offputting…but Bucky wouldn’t be trying to get him more sick.
Right?
The archer squared his shoulders, readying himself, before reaching for the little dish of garlic, popping it into his mouth and downing the water a moment later, “Whew! That stuff is STRONG when its raw, jeez!” He stuck out his tongue looking at Bucky, “At least I’ll be able to keep the vampires away right?” He grinned playfully, “Oh Dr. Barnes, you’re so amazin’~”
Tilting his head, his gaze soft and amused as he watched Clint and his silent battle between whether or not to take the odd remedy. Definitely wasn’t the tastiest cures, but it worked very well. When Delsym wasn’t obtainable, knowing about things that were closer to home like this came in handy.
“Vampires, and half the city,” he teased, playfully fanning away Clint’s new garlic-breath. He just rolled his eyes at the Dr. Barnes comment, setting off to get his sick friend some black tea that he previously brewed. Second best thing, and it would wash out the taste. Leaning back into the other side of the couch, he glanced over. “How are you, besides the obvious?”
(via arrowsarekindamything)
I guess even superheroes get sick sometimes.
Particularly the not so immune to anything ever kind of superheroes.
Cold’s suck.
He throws a blanket on Clint, wrapping him into it before lifting him up bridal style to lay him on the couch. “Be right back.”
Bucky left for a few moments, returning from the kitchen with a small dish of crushed garlic cloves and a glass of water. He took a seat near the other, placing the ‘medicine’ on the coffee table. “Any arguments?” he asked, raising a brow. The remedy worked for him on numerous occasions and ills; Colds included.
Clint was picked up before he could protest about being carried “like a girl”. He was on the couch a second later and Bucky was already in the kitchen by the time Clint’s brain caught up to make a quip,
“Awww, babycakes, I didn’t know you cared.”
What was that? Was that all the sarcasm you could muster Barton? Geez, you really must be sick.
Bucky is back a moment later and Clint sits up properly, looking at the glass of water and dish of garlic cloves? …What? The archer looks at Bucky with confusion, looking at the garlic and then at Bucky, “…You serious?”
What? Was an asprin or a bottle of nyquil too much to ask?
“We don’t need you sneezing everywhere,” he chuckled quietly when he left for the kitchen, his words a sad excuse of a comeback. It was a surefire thing that he cared, but admitting it aloud? Not exactly his cup of tea.
The facial expression, and reaction, was expected but it still caused him to rub his eyebrow in slight frustration. “Home remedy. After, I’ll get you whatever else you want… but you should really eat the damn garlic. For me?”
(via arrowsarekindamything)
I guess even superheroes get sick sometimes.
Particularly the not so immune to anything ever kind of superheroes.
Cold’s suck.
He throws a blanket on Clint, wrapping him into it before lifting him up bridal style to lay him on the couch. “Be right back.”
Bucky left for a few moments, returning from the kitchen with a small dish of crushed garlic cloves and a glass of water. He took a seat near the other, placing the ‘medicine’ on the coffee table. “Any arguments?” he asked, raising a brow. The remedy worked for him on numerous occasions and ills; Colds included.
He shot him a glance, amusement shining through the exhaustion. Maybe, if he was paying attention, he would’ve recognized the look Clint gave the room, and could’ve shed some light on the subject; But that would have to be for another time. Bucky had it in his mind to find a place of his own, or at least one that wasn’t so quiet. Imagine trying to find something worth watching on television, in his shoes. Sometimes he’d bug Steve, but regretfully he spent most of his days passing out drunk on the bathroom floor. Sooner or later, the money he saved up— which should’ve been used to jump-start his life— will be long gone, and he’ll have to face the music. “Do what you want,” he teased, waving his hand lazily from his position on the bed. Laying on his back actually wasn’t comfortable at all. Even though he acted with indifference, the fact that Clint was worried, in an odd way, made him feel better.
“How did you fight it?” he asked, resting his head on the pillow. Curiosity, and the chance that it could be something that would help him. At first, he thought making the step back into the lives of those he cares about would put and end, or at least slow down, what he was going through; Bit of an opposite effect, of course. Nonchalantly, he pulled off his shirt, the constricting sleeves only aggravating his arm and distracting him, tossing it on the headboard above him. “Steve’s got a real funny way of fending off nightmares, I swear.”
“Do what I want huh?” He asked, shifting a bit, “Guess I’ll get comfortable.” He mused, glancing over at the other as he got shirtless. He didn’t show any signs of interest, this was Steve’s best friend after all, and Clint already had feelings for his Steve, getting feelings for this Bucky, regardless of whether he was from Clint’s universe or not, would be a little awkward…but then again, one night wouldn’t hurt…right?
Clint got comfortable, chuckling a bit, “I’m showin’ you how I dealt with it.” He shrugged, “Alcohol was the first thing but…I stopped that quick. Didn’t want to turn into my dad and all…afterwards I just kinda…lost myself in people. I’d spend the night with people every night, whether I knew them or not, because I needed to. Because it helped more than they knew and I couldn’t sleep if I wasn’t exhausted from some rough as fuck sex, or, as childish as it sounds, bein’ held by someone.” Another shrug and Clint laughed. After Bobbi, after all those nightmares, Clint lost himself in the arms of as many women and sometimes men as he could. Because why not? Because it got rid of the nightmares for at least one night and he was able to get some sleep and relax. So maybe the idea would help Bucky a little, whether it was with Clint or not.
Though…looking at those abs and chest and arms…yeaaaah Clint half hoped. Clint wasn’t homosexual per se, he just…didn’t really care about gender. If he liked you, if he was attracted to you, then sure, he was up for a good fuck. Relationships were another matter, but that was a whole can of worms Clint didn’t want to even think about opening.
“Go ahead…” he let out an laugh of a hum, bringing up his right arm above his head, stretching it as he did so. Pulling back his arm, he ran his palm over the shoulder, rubbing at it. It was ironic, how having a fit lifestyle made sleep easier; Not a single sore muscle. Now, though, he barely did anything, living his muscles to ache at any odd position, to whine from lack of use. That was half the reason he drank, of course, but the amount he just had couldn’t fight the already formed hangover and hopelessly worn-down body of his.
He listened, keeping eye contact whether or not Clint was as well. For a moment or two, his gaze landed on the others lips; On one hand, was to pay closer to attention to what he was saying, and the other, well, because they were nice to look at. “Am I really turning into an alcoholic?” he asked, frowning. Hearing that his Steve’s Tony would drink quite often, that they were both just weights on his conscience at the time, upset Bucky at a serious degree. He wanted to pick himself up, to go somewhere with his life, for himself, and everyone around him. Was it to prove that he was still human? Not just a machine? The technicalities behind it were fuzzy, and he decided to leave them unchecked. “So…” he began, looking down at himself. “That actually worked?” Now two, if not reliable, sources have told him that being accompanied by another would silence the restless and screaming nights. Even with Natasha, she thought he had someone who filled that position already. Was it common knowledge, to not go it alone? He’s never been so lost before, for back then things just flowed— As much as they could with being frozen more than a few times in the middle.
(via arrowsarekindamything)
