Although you loved your boyfriend, Bucky, you hated when he had to go away for a mission. He would be gone for days at a time, sometimes weeks, and without fail would return with an assortment of injuries. As soon as he left the house to go complete a mission, you begun to worry about what injuries he would return with and whether he would return at all. That was the same for this time as well.

When you heard the front door open, you jumped up from your seat and rushed to the door to greet the love of your life and see what the damage was. You had no formal medical training but had learnt basic first aid and how to treat the usual wounds that he returned with, so you had left out the extensive first aid kit in the living room, ready to help with whatever was going on with him.

Bucky was visibly battered and bruised and as he was wincing as he moved, you could only imagine the damage under his clothing.

"Hi Doll," he smiled weakly, closing the door behind him.

"Oh Buck," you sighed, hating seeing him in such a state.

You helped him walk into the living room and get seated, even though it was an endeavour to complete.

"Come on, take off your shirt so I can see what I'm working with," you stated.

He shook his head, trying to get comfortable in his seat but due to the pain it was hard to find anything that seemed comfortable.

"I'm fine," he assured you.

"Don't lie to me Barnes," you said firmly. "You heard me. Take. It. Off."

Bucky was smart enough to know what fights were worth fighting, so gave in and removed his shirt, even though it took him a lot longer than it normally would.

You had seen him far worse but that didn't mean he was in the best condition. He had a few cuts on his torso and extensive bruising. The best you could offer was cleaning up all the wounds and dressing them appropriately as getting him to see an actual medical professional would be harder than it would be worth.

"You shouldn't have to patch me up," he frowned.

"Believe me I would rather not have to play nurse for my boyfriend every few weeks but its either this or I know you'll end up getting sepsis and dying," you huffed. "So, I am happy to take care of you, if it means I get to keep you around."

He offered you a weak smile before his language turned foul as you started to clean up the wounds.

~*~

Written by Charlotte.