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            You’re trying to figure out how to peel back his uniform to check him for the worst of the injuries (goddammit, why does no one wear a manageable uniform in the Avengers, what’s with all the buckles and straps, anyway, did someone play too many flight simulators as a kid or something?) when he reaches out one big hand to stop you.

“Hey, Clint,” he says, “thanks,” and you stare at him for a second and go, oh, no, fuck, no, Cap, you are not doing this, not here, not now, not at the fucking extraction point, you’re not, but he is.

            He is.

            After that, you’re not really paying attention to anything, and there’s a moment of disorientation when a zipliner grabs you and you realize he’s been talking to you for the last five minutes, but you don’t care, all you care about is that you’re not letting go of Steve, not until he’s on the chopper with you, so they load you both.