The mission was simple, a light recon at a semi-abandoned storage site. No alarms. No confrontation. No Clint.

But Clint had insisted on tagging along. And you? You’d insisted you could behave. Bucky had known better, but Sam was off-world and someone had to babysit the problem children. Apparently, that someone was him.

He was watching the site through thermal lenses, crouched on a rooftop with the cool night air brushing past his ears. Everything was quiet. Until it wasn’t.

A blinding flash lit up the ground floor, followed by the unmistakable sound of glass shattering, something heavy crashing to the floor, and then—

“Was that an arrow?” Bucky muttered.

A second later, “Of course it was.”

He vaulted off the rooftop. He found you first. On your back behind a dumpster, breathing hard, bruised and blinking up at him like you’d maybe taken a hit to the head, or maybe just realized how much trouble you were in.

Bucky’s boots stopped beside you. He crossed his arms. “What did you do?”

You tried to sit up. He helped you without meaning to. Reflex. There was yelling in the distance. Probably Clint. Probably being chased. Bucky didn’t even look over. Just stared down at you, unimpressed.

“I gave you two five minutes of alone time,” he said. “Five. And you somehow managed to start a war with two Hydra remnants, trip a silent alarm, and knock over a forklift.”

He didn’t even look angry, just so, so tired. “Hey—“ you pointed in the direction Clint had run off.

Bucky squinted. “He said, and I quote, ‘I’ll just peek.’ You idiots must share a braincell.”

By the time Clint stumbled back, covered in soot and missing half an eyebrow, Bucky had dragged you both into the cover of an alley.

“I’m fine,” Clint wheezed, coughing. “The guy’s toast. Literally. I blew up a toaster.”

“You blew up a toaster?” Bucky asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Clint blinked. “It was a metaphor.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

You tried not to laugh. It earned you a glare from Bucky. The three of you sat in silence for a moment, grimy, bruised, and covered in alley dust.

Eventually, Bucky looked at you again. “Next mission, you’re wearing a leash.”

Clint snorted. “Kinky.”

Bucky sighed so deeply it echoed off the brick walls. You just gave him a thumbs-up from where you sat on the pavement.