Chapter 1: no surprise, the wound lives in your eyes
Summary:
When you’re a super soldier, you don’t scar easy. As is true for one Bucky Barnes. He may have gotten a knockoff serum, but he still had the attributes of a Captain America protégé. The enhanced strength- enhanced speed. The healing factor. The animal rage and primal fear in his eyes that only appeared in cornered dogs and desperate soldiers. Still, some scars stayed. No matter how strong the healing factor or how good the medical care, some scars stayed.
Chapter Text
Bucky remembers the first time they fitted the mask on him. Hydra treated him like any other prisoner of war. They treated him like a wild animal. They kept him in a deathly silent cell- the only noise coming from the metal hatch where they would slide in food for him. He never ate any, of course. Then again, they never took the trays away either. The food piled up in front of the door, rotting and molding as the days passed. A few soldiers had attempted to enter the cell to clean it on the first day, but Bucky had lunged at them so viciously that they decided it was best to just leave him be.
On the second day, they chained him to the wall. It took three soldiers to hold him down and two more to chain his hands together and his feet to the ground. He could barely walk a few steps before it would tighten and he would fall. He would swear and curse when he fell, pulling at the chains and attempting to yank free. It was no use. At times, he yanked so hard that his wrists and ankles started to bleed.
On the third day, he sat in the middle of the room, silent. It’s not like he could do much anyway. Blood covered his hands and littered the floor beneath him. The stench of rot and iron was all he could focus on as the room was silent. He tried his best to hum a tune or remember Steve’s voice, but his head hurt so bad and his joints ached. He slept for most of the day.
He started screaming on the fourth. He did whatever he could to get someone’s attention. He yanked at the chains, rattling them together to create some sort of stimuli. Soldiers banged on the door, yelling commands in German he didn’t understand. He just kept on, throat becoming hoarse from overuse and dehydration. The constant pulling at his wrists began to tear through his skin, opening up just-healed scabs and cutting through the meat. At one point, he lost feeling in his left hand, but he kept going.
Eventually, the door swung open. The trays scattered about the cell, starting Bucky so that he fell backward. He landed hard on his left arm, hearing a sickening crack from the impact. As he attempted to sit upright, his hands slipped free from the cuffs. He looked down, expecting some sort of relief only to realize his left hand was hanging on by the bone. He could barely move his shoulder- and looking down, he noticed his forearm was bent in all the wrong places.
For the only time that day, he fell silent. As Hydra surrounded him, he could only make quiet, raspy noises of panic and disbelief. As they dragged him off, he cried. It was a pained, mournful cry. Not one of sadness, but of complete and utter disappointment. He didn’t understand. He was just a kid.
——————
Bucky didn’t know how long he was asleep, but he did know something happened to him. He was strapped to a slanted metal table in what seemed to be an improvised lab. There were soldiers and scientists in every corner. A big glass wall stood in front of him. On the other side what seemed to be dozens of Nazis- Hydra higher-ups, as he identified from their armbands- all sitting and waiting for… something.
He was barely cognitive enough to understand, but what he did know was he was in danger. He began to twitch and move against the straps, catching the attention of a few lab coat-donning Nazis that had been scurrying around. One of them got close enough for Bucky to scare off with a particularly aggressive yank. He gathered what little saliva he had and spit at him, breathing heavily.
“Fucking degenerate Nazis,” He yelled, voice cracking and weak from his previous episode, “I’ll kill all of you.”
His outbursts earned a few chuckles from the guards and the high-ranking officials behind the glass. It only spurred his anger. He continued to yank against the straps, snarling like a dog at anyone who came too close. Eventually, one scientist was brave enough to step forward. He was holding what looked like a piece of armor in his hands. As he got closer, Bucky identified it as a mask. He shook his head softly.
“You won’t silence me. You can’t do it,” His words were dangerous, but his voice betrayed him. A soldier held his face in place as the scientist pressed the mask on. It was tight. It left no room for his jaw to open. He yanked and struggled, but it clipped in place, rendering the use of his mouth useless. More scientists gathered around now that he had been muzzled, poking at him to elicit a response. Bucky’s breath echoed out of the mask, making him lightheaded as the carbon dioxide recycled back into his lungs.
Bucky didn’t know whether it was the rage or the desperation, but at one point, the straps holding him to the table snapped off. His left arm shot out, grabbing the nearest scientist’s neck. He pulled him in, attempting to get a better grip, but he noticed the shiny chrome in its place. With the scientist’s neck still in his hands, he looked down at his shoulder where they had amputated his arm, finding a brand new metal apparatus in its place.
——————
They had knocked him back out after the incident. Thrown him back in his cell. Pumped him full of just enough fluids and nutrients through an IV drip to last the night.
He was unchained when he woke up. Hungry, but unchained. A meal was waiting for him at the door. It looked… appealing. Instead of the usual prison slop, it was an actual breakfast. Eggs and toast and sausage with a little milk carton. He didn’t trust it. Besides, he couldn’t even move his mouth with the stupid mask on.
Sitting in the silent box, he couldn’t do much but stare. His whole body was trembling for a reason he couldn’t think of. Bucky stared down at his left arm- or the metal that was now in its place. The scientists hadn’t been so courteous as to provide him with another shirt, so he followed the arm to where it was connected. They had replaced half of his chest with metal. It was sleek and resembled his body so closely that he was almost convinced they had just painted him.
He felt the connection with shaky hands, shivering at the feeling of the already scarring wound. Steadily, he pressed his fingertips into the connection, finding it easy to slip his nails beneath the metal. He pushed further, gasping and wincing at the sharp and sudden pain. Blood began to pour from the wound, coating his hand and chest. He almost got to his second knuckle before he had to yank his hand from the wound. He had started to cry. He wasn’t sure why, but his first instinct was to call for Steve. It came out as a muffled mess, the thick metal and fabric of the muzzle dampening his efforts.
Reaching towards his face, he tried to slip his fingers under the mask the same way he did with his arm. Bucky’s nails pressed into his skin as he used his bloodied hand to push into his cheeks and get under the mask, but it didn’t budge. He became more desperate, scratching at the skin around it, but only succeeding in opening more wounds on his face. He then employed the use of his new arm, digging the metal into his cheeks to no avail. He screamed through the mask, crying like a little kid who couldn’t find his mother. He leaned forward on his hands and knees, feeling sick. Blood dripped from his hands and face, mixing with the tears from his eyes.
In an act of desperation or perhaps delirium from blood loss, he stumbled towards the door. Steadying himself, Bucky placed both hands on the door. He reared his head back and slammed it forward, a sharp pang reverberating around the room as the mask dented the metal. His head pounded, but he repeated it again and again and again. He only stopped when he heard the crunch. The mask had finally cracked. It split almost perfectly in half, falling to the floor. Bucky stumbled, falling to a sitting position. His head ached and his nose felt broken. Feeling his face gently with his flesh hand, he confirmed it. He broke his nose.
He flopped backward, spreading his arms to his sides. He huffed in an almost amused tone. He descended into giggles and then full-on maniacal laughter. He did it. He broke the mask.
——————
Bucky guessed it was about midday when the soldiers came in again. He had long since gone into a sort of half-asleep delirious state because of blood loss, so he didn’t fight back when the soldiers hoisted him up to drag him out of the cell. Bucky knew he should probably be committing the place to memory, but he couldn’t be bothered. He was exhausted and hungry. His whole body hurt. He wanted to go home.
They strapped him to a similar table as before- this time much, much colder. The sensation shocked him awake, body jerking in response. The soldiers acted quickly, holding him down to fit the leather straps over his limbs and chest. He struggled, but couldn’t find the strength to yank free.
It was only a few moments before the only thing he could see was bright medical lights and the face of an old and quite ugly Nazi scientist. He mumbled some garbled German before his gloved hands approached Bucky’s face. Bucky reacted with a jerk of his head, eyeing the scientist’s hands warily. The Nazi grabbed Bucky’s jaw, squeezing his face.
Bucky mumbled a “No” through gritted teeth, growling like an animal, “Fuck off. Let me go.”
The scientist, now frustrated, attempted to pry open Bucky’s mouth with his hands. Unfortunately for him, he slipped his fingers a little too far into the soldier’s mouth. Bucky clamped his jaw down hard. He heard the crunch of the Nazi’s bones between his teeth. He felt the separation of the hand from the fingers as the scientist screamed and pulled back. He spit out the appendages, the blood tasting like poison in his mouth. They landed on the floor in front of him. Bucky kept his eyes on the scientist as a few soldiers scrambled to get him out of the room.
“You’re dead,” He growled, “You’re all fucking dead.” Bucky pulled at the restraints, heavy breaths turning into laughs again. He didn’t even try to fight as a needle pressed into his neck, injecting him with god knows what. He turned towards the soldier who gave him the syringe, mumbling “You first”.
——————
Bucky had blinked and the room had changed. His head and eyes felt fuzzy- as if he had woken up from a nap. But he didn't, right? He didn’t remember falling asleep or getting knocked out. He was alone in a dark, dank room, laid half-naked inside what he assumed was an iron maiden. He felt the very tips of needles poking into his back and sides. The doors of the mechanism loomed ominously before letting out a mechanical hiss. The machine shuddered and creaked. The door hinges shrieked as the cover descended onto Bucky’s body. He reached out, but it felt like he was moving in slow motion. His metal arm touched the glass of the door as it clicked shut.
“What? No, no,” Bucky punched the glass, but the resulting sound made him cringe and cover his ears. His breath quickened, feeling the door for any way to open the doors. As he scrambled, a whiny voice came from a small speaker next to his head.
“It would be wise to comply, Mr. Barnes,” The thick German accent was a telltale sign of a Hydra Agent.
“You better get me the fuck out of here, you piece of shit! When Steve hears about this he-”
“Ah, Steve Rogers, yes?” The agent laughed, a shrill and uncomfortable sound. Bucky cringed at it. “How funny, I recall his termination a few weeks ago, no?” There was a sound like static as he turned away from the microphone. Bucky was able to make out a few German words as the agent turned back. “Ah, yes. Here it is. August 23, 1945. From the newspaper ‘New York Times’- I hear you are from Brooklyn, yes? It says here that one Steve Rogers was terminated in battle after an overwhelming defeat at the hands of-” The man faked a dramatic gasp, “The Nazi Party!”
Bucky shivered as the temperature in the punched at the glass, “You’re a fucking liar. A nazi and a liar.”
“If I’m such a liar, then why are you here?” A face appeared over the glass, the skin sagging and his head balding. He slid a piece of paper over the window- a newspaper. “No one is coming for you, Mr. Barnes.”
The headline read “Captain America’s Last Stand”. There was a large, dramatized photo of Steve with the shield in the middle of a quiet battlefield- obviously taken by a journalist who needed a good front page. He was sitting on a rock with the shield between his knees. He looked sad and distressed. It was painful to see. Bucky reached for the paper, but the man, who was missing his index and middle finger, pulled it away.
“This won’t hurt a bit, soldat.”
Men filed out of the room. Bucky’s heart rate quickened as dread filled his system, “He’s not- he’s not dead,” He spoke, but his voice cracked. He punched the glass for a third time, “He’s not fucking dead! I know he isn’t!”
A rumble filled the chamber and tubes situated at the bottom of the sarcophagus-like structure began to spit a thick, bubbly fluid. He began to panic as it slowly filled the tube. Swearing he began to frantically pull at the interior, unable to open the doors. As the fluid reached waist height, he began to chant to himself, “My name is James Buchannan Barnes, I’m a Sergeant of the 1st Infantry Division’s 26th Infantry Regiment, number 12622817.” The mumble was eventually drowned out when the fluid reached his mouth he took a deep breath, preparing himself for an underwater battle.
When he opened his eyes, he noticed that the viscous liquid was tinted green. It was translucent and he could still see outside. He began to pull at the hinges of the door, hoping the liquid would provide something of an easy exit. As he pulled with his flesh hand, the metal ripped open his palm. He gasped, losing the air in his lungs. He coughed and sputtered, the fluid entering his lungs. After a moment of panic, he realized he could still breathe, although labored. Before he could celebrate, he felt a sharp stinging in the exposed skin of his back. The needles, previously posed in a resting position, had sprung forward, pricking his back in various places. A sudden and terrifying adrenaline filled his body as the needles emptied their contents. Bucky scraped his metal hand down the glass as he attempted to scream through the dense liquid.
——————
It seemed like ages before the liquid began to drain and the doors creaked open. Bucky fell forward onto the cold concrete, coughing and sputtering as he attempted to empty his lungs. He probably threw up at some point too, but he couldn’t remember that well. He pushed himself up, looking at the soldiers now filing into the room. They aimed their strange rifles at him as he struggled to hold himself upright. He spotted the scientist, frustration and anger building inside of him. He mustered all of his strength to yell, “What the hell did you do to me!?”
“Glad to see you still full of life, Soldat,” He started, “Now if you would only stay still-” The man turned to a tray of medical tools he had dragged in with him.
Bucky dragged himself to his feet. His eye twitched. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. He took a step towards the nazi, then another.
“-I have a few tests I’d like to run,” The man turned back, “Ah, yes. Just sit down here and-” Bucky reached out, grabbing the man by the neck with his flesh hand. He sputtered and reached for Bucky’s hand, but Bucky threw him down as soon as he had a good grip. What Bucky had expected to happen was the man would stumble and fall backward as it was just a push. What really happened was the man flew into the thick metal door, denting it. He had knocked out the nazi’s breath. He just watched as the man struggled to catch his breath, heaving and coughing. He could tell without looking that all of the barrels were pointed at him.
He glanced down at his hand. The cut that had appeared earlier was gone. Not even a scar. Bucky turned towards the nearest soldier. He was taller than Bucky, but he flinched when Bucky turned his head. Easy pickings. He grabbed the rifle, tearing it out of his hands and slamming the butt of it into the soldier’s head. The impact cracked loudly, indicating what he could only assume was a large skull fracture. He then tossed the gun at the next closest target, knocking the man’s weapon away as well. A few shots went off, ricocheting off his silver limb.
“No! Non-lethal, you idiots! Nicht tödlich!” The scientist shouted.\
As the soldiers scrambled with a switch on their guns, Bucky rushed two of them. He slammed one of them into the wall with his shoulder, bodying the other out of the way. He reeled back and punched the nazi square in the face with his left arm. The force cracked the concrete and when Bucky pulled his fist away, he pulled some flesh with it. The man’s face was a mess of blood and missing skin. His nasal bone had pierced his brain. Turning to the other stunned soldier, he stomped on the man’s shin, shattering the bone. Bucky didn’t give him the chance to scream as he picked him up and threw him into the metal sarcophagus. The needles automatically extended, piercing the man’s front and face. He fell down, but his eyes stayed impaled on the spikes.
Before he could reach for another victim, a device pricked his neck. He tensed up, sensing the electrical shock from a Taser. He stumbled and fell, twitching from the sensation. He was rushed by multiple figures who injected him with a sedative as soon as they had their hands on him. The scientist appeared in his vision.
“We will make a great soldier out of you yet, James.”
Chapter 2: needle shining like a diamond in the desert
Summary:
CLINT BACKSTORY!!!!!!!!!!!
The avengers are West Coast!! (no, not the west coast avengers. Normal avengers. But in LA.) Because I am Californian and don’t wanna write about New York. Call me elitist if you want but Clint is from Ojai to me so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Chapter Text
If you asked Clint Barton why he was lonely, well, he probably wouldn’t tell you, but if he did, he’d probably start talking about the Avengers. He missed them like hell. When his brother showed back up and revealed he was running with the tracksuit mafia, Clint almost went crazy.
His obsession wasn’t taken lightly by any of them- especially by Natasha. After her and Steve’s de-conditioning, they got attached. He had never felt part of the group when it was just him, Tony, and Bruce. They were so far above him socially, academically, and financially that he always thought they kept him around out of pity. I mean- reworking the old super soldier contingency suit into the “iron man” suit was no easy task. And being blasted with thousands of gamma rays that turn you into a raging green monster when you’re angry wasn’t comparable to being able to shoot sharp sticks at people. Even after, Steve had the serum and was a national symbol. Thor was a god, which was self-explanatory.
But Natasha? Sure, she had the serum, too, but she was just like him in a way. Traumatic childhood, acrobatics based skill set, has killed with and without reason. If you could believe it, Clint used to be quiet. Then Natasha noticed how he slinked into the background when everyone started talking about science and politics or how he never really had anything to contribute besides “got it” and “what’s the plan?”. She came up to him one day and asked if he wanted to get coffee. Of course, Tony heard and immediately started teasing him, but it had been the first time someone besides Bruce had asked him to hang out. And when Bruce asked him it was usually to have him sit and listen to whatever new theory he had come up with. It wasn’t that the others didn’t like him, he knew that much, it’s just that they were usually busy with their own things. Steve was still processing the transition between the 1940s and the 2090s. Bruce and Tony were running Stark Tower- now Avengers Tower- with Pepper. Thor was off in Asgard and when he wasn’t, he was all over Bruce.
They had gone out for coffee. Natasha asked him all sorts of questions as he gave her a tour of the city. Most of them about the state of the world- minor details S.H.I.E.L.D. never covered in their “introduction to the new world” speech. He recapped the drama of the Kardashians that seemed to never end, talked about the old scandals from the 2020s, recommended some good music and movies, y’know, the good stuff. Then she’d asked about him.
“So what’s your story, Hawkeye?” They were sitting on the Santa Monica pier, food stand tacos in hand. Clint had nearly dropped his plate off the railing.
“What about it?” The answer came out harsher than expected. He internally winced. Jesus, Barton. Fucking your relationships up as always.
She laughed, “Not used to talking about yourself?”
Clint looked away and shook his head, “No, not really. No one really asks and it’s not exactly a fun story.”
Natasha gave a knowing look and slowly nodded, “I see.” There was a long moment filled with bustling people and seagull screeches before either spoke again.
He didn’t know why, but he opened up almost immediately, “I was raised in a circus. Parents died when I was 3 so, after running away from the foster system, me and my brother ended up with the ‘Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders’. A guy named Swordsman taught us how to shoot. We became these young and upcoming archers that were trained to never miss. To always be on point. Then I found out it was all a front for the headman to embezzle drug money and before I could turn them in, they forced my brother to stab out both of my ears and they left me in the middle of the Mojave.” Clint took a drink of his soda, refusing to make eye contact.
He could see Natasha out of the corner of his eye processing the story. He internally cursed himself for dumping that on her. In his defense, she asked. She turned towards the beach, voice quiet, “How did you survive?”
“Got picked up by some hikers. They airlifted me to a hospital. Got put back into the system after that cause I was fifteen. They could never place me with a family because I had behavioral issues. Not to mention I’m deaf and back then I refused to wear my hearing aids. I wanted everyone to understand me. Not the other way around,” Clint chuckled. He thought back to all the times he sat back and attempted to understand the rest of the team’s science jargon. “Guess the world couldn’t let me have that, huh?” He shut up when he saw Natasha’s concerned look, “Sorry, I know it’s a lot.”
Natasha broke into a soft smile, shaking her head, “Oh, please, Barton. I can handle a little bit of personal issues. I have a few of my own, y’know”
Clint grinned back, “I forgot. This is probably a walk in the park for you with the whole Black Widow thing, huh?” They both laughed.
There was a long, comfortable silence between them as they watched the waves eat away at the sunset. There weren't many people on the beach today. It was cold. Overcast.
“What was his name?” Natasha’s voice was comforting. It coaxed the answers out of him in a way no one had ever done before.
“Charles. We called him Barney. He’s three years older than me. We look the same but he’s a little taller. Darker hair, too.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Clint sighed, “Seventeen years ago.”
——————
The resurfacing of his older brother wasn’t exactly surprising. Clint had been keeping tabs on him and the circus ever since he got his hands on his first computer- which he still had in his closet somewhere. The circus fell apart soon after, his sudden disappearance making headlines because of how beloved him and his brother were. His reappearance in the hospital wasn’t exactly good for pr as well. He was a top story for about a week before all the interviewers got sick of his attitude.
His brother was sent to jail for embezzling just like the others. Clint was tempted to visit, but his anger never let him. Once his brother was out, he jumped straight back into criminal activity. This time it was less noticeable, but Clint knew. He’d managed ways to cover the circus’ tracks for 10 years. He knew what Barney would do and how to counteract it. Did he ever intervene? No. Why would he? He just wanted to see what Barney would do next. So what if he left a few stray arrows around his dealing spots or his purple symbol wherever he knew Barney would be. He wasn’t interfering. He was just making sure Barney knew he was watching. Making sure he knew not to do anything stupid.
In true circus fashion, Barney knew how to put on a show. So when it was time, he did. He’d shown up on Clint’s doorstep one day. He was dressed to the nines. Full black and white suit, hair slicked back and shoes shined, shit-eating grin wider than the sun. Still, he looked like shit. His eye bags were so heavy you could carry two-liters in them and he would scratch at his wrists like they had bugs inside. Barney was balding so badly that Clint really hoped it wasn’t genetic. Clint didn’t even recognize him at first.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He was trying to be confrontational, but it came out too soft.
“Baby bro!” Barney went in for a hug. Clint held out his hand to stop him. Barney crowded in the doorframe. Instinctively, Clint took a step back.
“You need to leave, Barney. I don’t want to talk to you,” Clint pushed him back. It wasn’t even that hard of a hit, but he stumbled back like he had punched him. Barney was so frail that his undershirt hung off of him like pajamas.
“No, no, look-” Barney adopted a pleading face, reaching into his pocket. Clint’s eyes went wide, flinching away when Barney approached. It reminded him of the night in the Mojave. He was just watching a fence lizard crawl away when Barney had turned him around, reached into his pocket, and jabbed a pocket knife in his ear. Before he could react, Barney had pulled it out and stabbed the other side. The last thing he heard was his own screaming before he couldn’t anymore.
When he came to, he was on the floor, crying and clutching his ears, staring up at a swaying Barney in terror. Clint’s heart was beating so fast he felt like he was having a heart attack, “Please, please don’t. I’m sorry-” he whispered, voice hoarse.
Barney tried to step forward, but Clint reacted with an outstretched hand and a cower, making Barney stop himself. He looked down in disbelief, staring at the paper in his hand. It was a plane ticket. He said, “I’m sorry, I’ll go.” before running out the door, slamming it behind him.
Clint spiraled into an intense depressive episode, spending entire days in bed. He’d only slept about 18 hours in a week and ate maybe half a meal a day. He lost muscle and fat. He looked like he’d crawled through a dumpster fire and not had time to shower. The others checked in, of course. Bruce and Tony called and texted daily. Thor shot him a few messages as well, although it was mainly to show him photos of his goats because he thought they would cheer him up. It worked, in a way. Steve even stopped by once, but when he realized Clint was in no state to talk, he’d placed the groceries he went out of his way to buy on the counter and left. He’d probably starved to death if Natasha hadn’t made it her personal goal to make sure he was okay. As soon as he didn’t show up to their scheduled coffee date, she’d kicked down his door to find him curled up behind the couch and clawing at his own skin.
Natasha had picked him up, dusted him off, and forced him to take a shower to clear his mind. He met her in his living room after that. She’d brought him his usual coffee order and sat him down. She made him tell her everything with that convincing voice she always pulled when she wanted to know something. He told her, of course. There was little he could do to resist when she was ‘big sistering’ him like this. Sometimes he wished Natasha was his older sibling instead of Barney.
“He came back,” He whispered, curled up in the corner of the couch. He was as far away as he could get from Natasha.
“Who came back, Clint?” Natasha leaned forward.
“Barney. My brother,” He said quickly, rubbing his face.
There was a long silence. Natasha tapped her manicured nails against the lid of her coffee. She then slid Clint’s over to him. He hesitantly took it. It wasn’t very hot anymore, but he drank it anyway.
“What did he want?” She sat back in her seat.
Clint shook his head and shrugged, “I don’t know.” He took another swig.
She nodded, looking at her own cup, “What did he do?”
“He- ah,” Clint shrugged again, “I don’t know.” He laughed, but it wasn’t genuine.
“Okay,” Natasha placed her coffee on the table, “Give me a step-by-step. How did you figure this out?”
“He showed up,” Clint’s eyes started to glaze over. “He knocked on my door.”
For once, Natasha didn’t respond. Clint didn’t blame her.
“How…” She thought for a moment, “What triggered the panic attack?”
Clint blinked, a tear falling down his nose, “He… reached into his pocket, I guess?” He took a breath, “I ended up thinking back to when he-” He motioned towards his head, “y’know.”
Natasha understood, “I…” She looked as if she was contemplating something, “I had a sister. Yelena.”
Clint watched. It was rare that Natasha talked about herself.
“She was about 5 years younger than me. I was assigned to train her in the Red Room,” She stared at her hands, “She was so young. I never- I didn’t want to put her through what I had to… At first I was just assigned to teach her tactics. Help her spar. Increase her reaction speed. Classic training. Then, when it came time for her to take over her own apprentice, we weren’t able to see each other. Despite direct orders, we would sneak out to look at the stars or listen to music. Eventually, we were caught. They took Yelena away and they took me to the chair. That’s when they decided to use me as a guinea pig,” She blinked, “and I never saw her again.”
They looked at each other, attempting to figure each other out.
“We’re pretty dysfunctional, huh?” Clint smiled. Natasha smiled and nodded back.
“Clint, whatever you decide to do, I will be behind you. However, I want to warn you that you may find things you don’t want to find,” Natasha picked her coffee back up, “I may be wrong, but if I were Barney, I wouldn’t show up for no reason. Just… don’t get yourself killed over this, alright?”
Clint nodded, “I won’t.”
“You better not,” She smiled and stood, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t forget to eat dinner, alright?”
After their talk, he felt lighter. Like dealing with all of this stress of monitoring Barney had been shared between them. Then, like clockwork, the guilt set in. Who was he to pass off his problems to Natasha? Who was he to shove all of this to the side and ‘focus on himself’? He was a damn Avenger. He could be a big boy and handle his own big boy problems.
He ended the day hungry and hunched over his computer. None of his tracking worked. Every source he had to get a hold of him was offline. Clint began to panic. Barney had to have known that he was tracking him. Sure, he made it obvious, but Barney was always trying to dip under the radar and Clint never let him. He’d developed a new way to track every time, so how did he figure out how he was watching? The system he had now barely resembled the one the circus used. Now that he thought about it, Barney hadn’t attempted to go under the radar for a few months now. Did Barney want him to find him? Why ?
When Tony called him to the tower, he didn’t go. When he asked why Clint was late, he didn’t respond. Then everyone started texting him. Even Pepper shot him a concerned message. It was cruel to say, but he didn’t care. He was zoned in on tracking down his brother. He was pacing that night behind his couch when he noticed a slip of paper on the table next to the door. Confused, he’d picked it up. It was a plane ticket to the eastern shore of Russia. Addressed to him.
——————
Over the next few days, he spent all of his energy attempting to decipher what Barney wanted. Why had he bought him a plane ticket? Did he want Clint to come with him? Why? After all of this time, why did he choose to show up with a plane ticket? What could possibly be in Russia that was so damn important that Barney had shown up in person to deliver him a ticket? What was the name of that gang he had started dealing with? What were the threats they made again? What did they want from Barney? They were Russian, right? Did they take him? Was it a cry for help? Did Barney need his help?
Next thing he knew, he was looking at tickets to the Kamchatka Peninsula. If he was going to do this, he needed to get out of here quickly. Who knows what they could’ve done to him. God, he could be dead by now. Clint would never forgive himself. After the first few days, he went out looking for clues. Hints to any type of plan or large shipment. He hit every single warehouse he knew Barney had been. Each had been completely cleared out. A few still had some gang members- tracksuits- inside. Clint tried to get information out of each of them, but they were slippery. Hard to catch. But eventually, he got his hands on one.
It was nearing about 4 AM when Clint had finally cornered the man. He had shot out his leg. He was limping, tired. Clint had been chasing him for almost an hour now. Well, he’d been stalking him. Making him think he was safe only to appear next to him and watch him hobble away. He was pretty sure he’d awoken half of Hollywood- those who were sleeping, of course. As the man turned down a dead end alley, Clint slowed. His shoes were covered in blood- picked up from the trail the man had left. He looked down at them. They were his favorite shoes. Bummer. He’d have to throw them in the washing machine later.
As Clint looked back up, the man limped into a fighting stance. It was laughable. The man threw a punch as he approached. Clint deflected and stabbed an arrow into his shoulder. He hissed in Russian, “Where’s your headquarters, comrade?” The man cried out for help in response, but Clint twisted the arrow deeper, “You’re not getting any help. I am the help.” He sneered, “Where in Russia did you take the packages? Where can I find Charles Barton?”
The man looked up at him, “I don’t know.”
Clint gritted his teeth, kicking the arrow sticking out of the other’s shin, “ Where ?” The man began to cry. Clint scoffed, dropping him. He sank to the floor, clutching his leg. Clint was about to turn to leave when the man spoke.
“You will not find him,” He shouted. Clint whipped around, picking the man up by the collar.
“So you do know,” He pushed him against the nearest wall, “You’re going to tell me everything.”
“Or what?” The man laughed, probably delirious from pain, “You’re the Hawkeye. You don’t kill.”
Clint could swear his eye twitched, “You can’t prove that.”
The man’s smile faded, “You’re an Avenger.”
“Have you seen me with the Avengers lately?” The man came to a realization as Clint spoke. Clint hadn’t been seen publicly as an Avenger for going on two weeks now, “Exactly. Tell me where he is.”
The man stuttered, “Old Warehouse. A kilometer north of the Kronotsky Reserve.”
Clint stared at him, “Good. That wasn’t so hard, huh?” He dropped the man. He fell to his knees, attempting to crawl away. Before he could, Clint stomped on his ankle and ripped the arrow out of his shin. The man screamed, turning to clutch his leg again. When the man curled, Clint grabbed the arrow in his shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled harder, only making the man shoot his hands up to try to grab Clint. He succeeded in grabbing Clint’s ankle. The blonde jumped into fight or flight, kicking the man away. He only crawled after him, tripping him up.
The archer fell backward. The tracksuit, seizing the opportunity, yanked the arrow out of his shoulder and attempted to climb on top of Clint. As soon as he got close, Clint flipped the man over, maneuvering to straddle him. The arrow flew out of his hand, but the adrenaline had already kicked in. Clint brought down his fist into the man’s eye over and over again. Even as the tracksuit started to beg him, he kept up his barrage. He was so angry. So frustrated. The man began to sputter and spit blood. Clint just held him down by the throat. It took 2 minutes of constant berating for Clint to come to his senses. It was just long enough to kill.
The man had stopped moving god knows how long ago. Clint stared at the bloodied, disfigured mess of the man’s face. His eyes wouldn’t focus and he was panting heavily. Shakily, he looked down at his hands. They were covered with red. His knuckles had open wounds from where he had beaten the tracksuit down to the skull. He felt sick. Clint slowly stood, picking up the arrow the man had dropped and sheathing it in his quiver. He stared ahead. The sun was starting to come up. He needed to get home. He ran.
His mind was racing. Jesus Christ- I just killed that guy. I’m going to go to jail. They’ll kick me off the Avengers. God, what would Natsaha think? She’s killed people before. How does she handle it? Would she even want to talk to him? Fuck. She’s going to be so disappointed. Clint reached his apartment in record time, booking it to his floor and slamming the door behind him. He stared at the door where his hands had stained the white paint. He made a noise like he was holding back a scream, then ran to the bathroom.
Clint stripped to his underwear and started a shower. He stood under the water, watching as the always-clogged drain began to fill the bath with bright red water. His knuckles stung and his lungs ached. His heart was beating so fast he was sure he was going to have a panic attack. All he could hear were the man’s screams and the crunching of bones. He clutched his ears, tearing out his hearing aids and tossing them onto his clothes. He sank to the floor of the bath, screaming through his teeth. At least he thought he was. He wasn’t sure what sounds he was making, but they weren’t good. He began to sob. He pulled his knees to his chest, closing his eyes and pressing his hands to his ears, but he could still hear the screams.
The door slammed open. Clint felt the vibration, watching as Steve and Natasha burst through the door. He scrambled to the corner, attempting to beg them not to come closer. They didn’t listen. Natasha grabbed him first. He jerked away, attempting to kick her off. Steve then stepped in, fully picking him up and lifting him out of the tub. Clint fought back as best he could, but the adrenaline was wearing off. His kicks and punches did nothing against the super soldier. He was brought back to the feeling of inferiority he usually felt in comparison to the rest of them.
Steve placed him on the couch, choosing to sit on the coffee table in front of him. Natasha, who had brought over his hearing aids, sat beside him, offering up the devices. Clint leaned away, water dripping down his face. Natasha handed them to Steve, who held them gently in his hands. She waved to get his attention. He turned. She started signing.
‘What happened?’ she mimed. Clint shook his head. He tried to look away but Natasha turned his head towards her, ‘Tell me.’
Clint stared at her hands. He hesitantly signed, ‘I’m going to find my brother.’
Natasha gave him an unreadable look. In the corner of his eye, he saw Steve look at his phone, say ‘I need to take this’ to Natasha, then stand to answer his phone. Looking back at Clint, Natasha signed, ‘What do you mean?’
‘I have his location. I’m going to find him,’ Clint repeated.
Natasha shook her head, ‘Clint, what did I say about not getting yourself killed?’
‘I didn’t!’ He furrowed his eyebrows, ‘I’m alive.’
‘Then what about the blood? Where did all of the blood come from?’ She scowled back, clearly frustrated.
Clint shook his head again, unable to answer. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t risk all of this over one mistake. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Steve. He had this emotion in his eyes he had never witnessed before. Cap’s usually stoic or happy face was replaced with a type of concerned horror. He knew. There was no way he didn’t. They must have found the body.
Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Clint was already up. He snatched his hearing aids from Steve’s hands. He vaulted the coffee table, sprinting to his room then slamming and locking the door behind him. He slipped on the nearest jeans, shoes, and jacket. He had made a backpack with everything he needed the day before. It had all of his warmest clothes, his spare hearing aids and batteries, his laptop, his collapsible bow, the revolver Natasha had gifted him, and as many undetectable arrows as he could carry. Before Steve could break the lock, he was gone. He had jumped out of the second story window onto an abandoned mattress. His knees ached and he landed on his shoulder wrong, but he had to get out of there.
The good thing about being an Avenger was that you knew every shortcut in the city. The bad part was that all of the other Avengers knew, too. It took him about 15 minutes to lose the two long enough for him to slip into a taxi headed to the airport. It took him another 40 minutes to get through the traffic in between him and Burbank Airport. LAX would be too public. Burbank was just discreet enough to slip through without much effort. It was a miracle they hadn’t tracked him down yet. He was tempted to relax, but he knew his friends. Stopping now would mean facing what he’d done. He wasn’t ready for that.
Chapter 3: dragonfly, the clouds are rolling by
Summary:
Please imagine this whole thing is narrated by David Attenborough
Meetcute: I punch you in the face, tie you to a chair, and get uncomfortably close while interrogating you.
Chapter Text
The Winter Soldier was a thing of the past. He was no longer in Hydra’s hands. He was no longer in anyone’s hands. But the book was still out there. Hydra was still out there and they had that damn book. The one with the code.
After his violent reawakening at the hands of Steve Rogers and his crew, he’d slipped through the cracks and found himself in the cold outskirts of Russia. Hydra had set up an underground campus to hold their secrets eons ago. Bucky was unsure of how long- he’d probably been frozen for it anyway.
The benefits of being the Winter Soldier included the stealth, combat, tracking, and language skills. The drawbacks included a giant, shiny appendage and several widely broadcasted videos of you attacking one of America’s most beloved symbols. Focusing on the former, tracking down Hydra wasn’t hard when you knew what to look for. Hydra had secret codes, gestures, and symbols that looked normal to the average person. To a trained Hydra eye, however, it was glaringly obvious and painfully sloppy.
As much as he would love to stomp each of those disgusting agents’ heads against a curb, he merely observed. He infiltrated their meetings, gathered information, then got lost in the crowd. He spoke only Russian if he even spoke at all and kept to the back of the rooms. He moved when necessary. Talked when necessary. Hailed that fucking Nazi when necessary, regrettably. All of this just to get the location of one facility. Bucky was happy to report that Nazis have become less bold since the 40s, but they were just as self-absorbed and genocidal as ever.
He found it difficult to grasp just how much time had passed in between when he was captured and where he was now. The simple answer was it had been about 150 years. It was the September of 2095 when he had come to Russia and the October of 2095 when he had met Clint Barton.
——————
The thick October snow coating the streets of the Kamchatka Peninsula made it impossible to navigate easily, but Bucky had learned to ignore it. He was walking back to the motel he had been working out of. He’d been through multiple motels- most of which were definitely laundering schemes- and this one wasn’t much better. He had to cross through multiple shady alleyways to avoid the constant beating of snow on his face, but he didn’t mind. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t last long.
Bucky wiped his face of snow, grateful that the soft mask and beanie wasn’t considered too suspicious. Before he could duck into another alley, he caught a glimpse of someone disappearing on a rooftop. He paused in his tracks, glancing around the dark, empty streets. It was nearing 3 AM. Who the hell would be on a rooftop in the snow at 3 AM?
He backtracked under the awning of a closed shop, spotting a fire escape across the street. If he could get to the ladder without getting seen, he could gain a vantage point over whoever was watching him. He steadied his breathing, listening for anything that could give him any hints as to where the person may be. He was looking for a scuff or a particularly loud breath. Maybe even a blink if Bucky was feeling adventurous.
Not a sound. Either this guy was good or he wasn’t there. Bucky wasn’t new to hallucinations, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. After a brief moment, he dashed for the ladder. The snow softened his steps, but the movement was loud and risky. He slinked into the shadows behind a trash can, eyes focused on the rooftop. Nothing was there. He squinted. Not a movement. He stayed there for a good few minutes before he saw a person clad in all black approach the ledge. He reached for his pistol, ready to take a shot.
To his surprise, he watched as they dragged the body of a large man wearing a red tracksuit to the edge of the building and pushed him off. The man was obviously unconscious. He hit the pavement with a crack and a thud. The fall wouldn’t have killed him, but the man would definitely need a hospital.
The figure took a deep breath before shouting in Russian, “I’d recommend collecting your friend here. He needs some medical attention. That is if you don’t want to take your chances with me as well.”
Bucky stayed still and silent. Did the guy on the roof think the tracksuit was with him? What if he was? What would he do? Who was the tracksuit guy anyway? Who was the guy on the roof? And who is he to challenge the Winter Soldier? The last question wasn’t exactly a voluntary thought, so he shook his head to clear it. Glancing back up at the roof, however, the man was gone.
Bucky went rigid. He would have noticed if the man had left, right? Where was he now? Bucky glanced up at the rooftops and around the alleys. Who knows what this guy was capable of? Silent as a cat, he stepped out from his hiding space. He listened for any minor shift or noise- anything that would give away the man’s position. He clutched his handgun tight, staying flush to the walls. He made his way to the stoop of a storefront, then to a fence, then to another alley.
As he backed into an alleyway, he heard the voice behind him, “Who are we hiding from?” Bucky spun around, not giving the man a chance to react before landing a punch square on his jaw. He stumbled back, clutching his face, but recovered just as quick. He drew a katana from his belt, knocking the gun from Bucky’s hands. As the man came down for another attack, he instinctively blocked with his left arm, the clash of metal resounding on the empty streets.
The attacker flinched at the vibrations echoing down the sword, making him drop it. Bucky took the opportunity to land another hit- this time with his left- successfully knocking him out. As the man fell, his mask glitched and cracked. It was digital. He’d seen a few digital suits before, but never this close. He cautiously approached the man, glancing at the brightly colored glitch. Through the hole, he could see a closed eye clad with blonde lashes.
Bucky huffed and stood. He turned to leave, but glanced back at the sleeping figure. He switched his gaze back and forth between the tracksuit and the attacker, weighing his options. Leaving him here will leave him at the mercy of whoever the tracksuit man was but taking him could compromise his cover. He picked up his gun, holstering it as he debated. With one last glance at the sleeping figure, he turned out of the alley and left.
——————
What was he doing? He needed to keep his cover for Christ's sake. Now he had a masked vigilante tied to a chair in his motel room. He had removed every weapon he could find and laid it under the bed. He had tied the man to the chair with rope that he had as a contingency plan in case of a Winter Soldier reemergence. The only thing left was to unmask him. That was the hard part. He had no idea how these new age digital masks worked. Bucky grabbed the man’s face and lifted his head, noticing the collar that held a flashing red bulb. Oh. That’s probably where the mask comes from. He flipped the switch next to the bulb. The mask flickered and peeled down the man’s face, revealing a short, blonde head of hair and a blossoming black eye.
Bucky committed his face to memory. He wasn’t going to lie, it was a nice face. A handsome face. He dropped the man’s head, letting it hang limp again. As he did so, it shifted to the side. Bucky caught a glimpse of what looked like purple earrings- except they weren’t earrings since they wrapped around his ear. Bucky took it off, then checked the other side and took the other one off, too. Examining them, he noticed they were mechanical. Makes sense. Mechanical mask. Mechanical earpieces. Hold on earpieces?
Bucky went rigid yet again. What if someone was tracking him? What if he had told whoever he was working for that he had found the Winter Soldier? What if they were going to take him again? He clasped his hand around the devices, ready to crush them, but movement stopped him.
The man on the chair stirred, wincing while lifting his head. He mumbled in English, “Barton, you dumbass… not again…”
“Barton?” Bucky immediately questioned. He recognized the name, but he couldn’t recall where.
The man looked up at Bucky, squinting. He then slowly looked around the room and asked in Russian, “Is everything really silent or did you take my hearing aids?”
Hearing aids? Bucky looked down at his hand clasped around the devices. Oh. Hearing Aids. Of course.
He approached the man- who he assumed was named Barton- just as Barton spoke, “-or it could be a bad concussion. Which I wouldn’t rule out considering you hit me pretty har- oh you did take my hearing aids.” Bucky revealed the devices, glancing between Barton’s ear and his hand.
Barton continued to explain in Russian, “Yeah- if you could just slip those on we could have a civil conversation instead of beating eachother up over a misunderstanding.”
Bucky struggled to orient the hearing aids correctly. At first he had put one on upside down- then he put them in the wrong ears. It took a lot of trial and error- and frankly a lot of comments along the lines of “Jesus, have you never seen a hearing aid before?” before they were in properly. As Barton adjusted to hearing again, Bucky sat in the chair he had placed across from him.
“Okay. Now that I can hear, what do you need?” Barton sighed. He had clearly been in this situation before.
“You speak English.” Bucky stated- in English of course.
Barton looked shocked, “Uhm… yes I do. What about it?”
“You’re American?”
“You seem American, too.”
“What are you doing in Russia?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Bucky stood. The action succeeded in intimidating the blonde, “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you just… tell me why you want to know.”
The soldier sighed and sat back down, “I need to know if you’re here for me.”
“Well you don’t exactly look like a tracksuit so no, I’m not here for you.” Barton explained.
“A tracksuit?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell is a tracksuit?”
He tried to hide it, but a shit-eating grin spread across Barton’s face, “Oh, y’know, they’re this type of workout clothes that match the shirts and the pants-“
“Okay, stop being a smartass,” Bucky cut him off. The action shut him up, “Tell me who you are here for.”
“I’m…” Barton glanced down, visually fighting himself in his brain. While he was thinking, he made a face of confusion. Bucky followed his gaze down to his own left arm, where a sliver of metal showed through the gap of his glove and his jacket. He moved his hand quickly, giving Barton a stern look.
“You’re what?” Bucky asked.
“Doesn’t matter what I am. You’re the Winter Soldier.”
Bucky stared at him coldly. After a long moment, he spoke again, “Who are you here for?” It was a demand.
Barton responded, “I’m here for my brother. He decided it would be fun to get himself involved with the tracksuit mafia and now I have to bail him out.”
The latter wasn’t exactly satisfied with the answer, but he took it anyway, “And who are you?”
The man closed his eyes briefly, as if he was expecting the question. He sighed, “Everyone calls me Ronin.”
“I didn’t ask what everyone called you, I asked who you were.”
He groaned, “I’m just a dude trying to get his brother out of deep shit for the- what is it- fifth time now?”
“Your name, Barton,” the name caught the man’s attention as Bucky stood, leaning down to crowd into his face, “I know part of it is Barton. You were mumbling to yourself earlier. Give me the other half.”
Barton struggled to make eye contact, leaning back as Bucky got closer. His breath quickened and his face seemed to flush, “Ah- I’m,” He laughed nervously, “It’s Clint. Clint Barton.”
“Clint Barton.” Bucky repeated flatly, “And everyone calls you Ronin. Why?”
Clint shrugged, turning his head to the side to avoid Bucky’s gaze, “Dunno. My guess is the Katana.”
Bucky lifted a hand to Clint’s face, using a bent finger to pull his head back into place. He then leaned on the chair’s arms, the wood creaking under the weight, “Any other names I should know about?”
“Nothing that uh-“ He gulped, “comes to mind right now.”
Bucky glanced over his face one last time before pulling back. He turned away, hearing Clint’s sigh of relief as he stripped off his beanie and mask, “Well, keep me updated.”
There was a long moment of silence before Clint responded, “Uh-huh.” Bucky turned to see Clint snap his head away, face still red.
“Are you cold or something?”
Clint looked at him out of the corner of his eye before shaking his head, “No, no, I’m fine.”
Bucky took a step closer, “Your face is flushed. You look cold.”
“Oh, no not cold trust me,” Clint chuckled, “Definitely not.”
Bucky leered down at him, “I’m going to untie you now. You better not try anything.”
That got a better, borderline sarcastic laugh from Clint, “Trust me, I’m not gonna attack the Winter Soldier again-“
Bucky rushed forward to grab Clint’s face, leaning so close their foreheads were almost touching, “You don’t call me the Winter Soldier. I am not the Winter Soldier.”
They both stayed there for a moment, both of their eyes searching for something else in the other person’s.
Clint whispered out, “Okay. Yeah, okay. No Winter Soldier you got it.” Bucky let him go, crouching down to untie Clint’s legs, “Sorry…”
“My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone calls me Bucky,” It felt foreign to say. He hadn’t been Bucky in 150 years. He continued on unconsciously, “I’m a Sergeant of the 1st Infantry Division’s 26th Infantry Regiment, number 12622817.”
Clint looked at him weird as if to say ‘what the hell was that?’. Still, he nodded, “Alright then, Sergeant Barnes.”
“It’s Bucky.” He corrected coldly, moving to Clint’s arms- which he had found had already been untied. When did that happen?
“Sergeant Bucky?” Clint cocked his head.
Bucky stared at the untied rope, “I- what? No just- just Bucky- when did this rope come loose?”
“Hm?” Clint looked down at the rope, “Oh! That rope. Yeah I untied it when you were all up in my face.”
Bucky held it in his hands, “Why didn’t you attack me?”
It took Clint a second to respond, “I had no reason to.”
Bucky sat on the bed, still staring, “Why didn’t I notice?” He whispered.
“I dunno. I’m pretty stealthy.” Clint grinned.
The other glared at him, huffing. “I don’t care.” That wiped the grin off of Clint’s face.
“Well you don’t have to be a dick about it,” Clint grumbled, leaning forward and rubbing his wrists, “Alright.” He slapped his knees and stood up, “I’ll get out of your hair. Where’s my stuff?”
“You’re not leaving,” Bucky stood up to him, realizing Clint was just a few inches taller. Clint seemed to realize this as well and apparently found it amusing as he made a face like he was trying to hold in laughter.
With a sudden wave of rage, he grabbed Clint by the front of his shirt and brought him down to eye level, “I need to monitor you. You’re not leaving my sight.” Clint’s face was flushed again almost immediately. What was with this guy and Bucky’s interrogations?
Without thinking Clint responded “Whatever you say, short stack.”
Before Clint could respond, Bucky had punched him in the stomach with his left arm. The blonde doubled over, recovering from having the wind knocked out of him.
“It’s Bucky,” he responded, venom in his words.
Clint nodded, “Yeah, I don’t know why I said that either.”
——————
The two had moved in together by the end of the month. Their reasoning was always “it’s a tactical advantage to have someone watching out for you” but both of them just didn’t want to be alone. After that first night, they’d talked. A lot. Bucky probably talked more than he’d ever done in his entire life. Turns out, they had a lot more in common than he’d thought.
Clint had managed to find a small, discreet apartment fairly easily with the money he had stolen from the laundering schemes he had taken down. It was on the ground floor of an older building where all of your neighbors were grumpy old people who sat on the long porch and bickered. They were placed in a quiet corner in the very back of the building. It was on the second floor, so it wasn’t too long of a drop if they needed to jump out of the window for a quick escape. It also had access to several alleyways that had a lot of overhead cover. The more Bucky inspected the place, the more he began to trust Clint’s judgement.
“And you’re sure the people here mind their own business?” Bucky asked as he looked out the window. There was an older man with a cane checking out his motorcycle. Bucky squinted, mentally daring him to touch it.
“Well…” Clint trailed off. He was carrying a small box of his belongings into the house. “They’re no snitches, I can tell you that much.”
Bucky swapped his glare to Clint, who smiled nervously, “That’s not a good answer.”
Clint placed the box on the counter. It rattled. He sighed, “Look, they’re old. Old people get nosy because they have nothing better to do, but half of them wouldn’t even remember your name if you told them!”
"That’s not the point. Anyone could be a hydra agent. I would expect most of them to be older. Hydra’s been around for a long time-” Clint cut Bucky off by holding a finger up.
“Okay, hold on. Listen,” He held his hands out in front of him in a sort of defensive posture, “I know someone in this building. She’s this old woman that let me stay with her when I came here, like, a year ago. She’d informed me awhile back that the couple that used to live here moved out. She was nice enough to convince the landlord to let us stay on super short notice. I owe it to her to… keep a lookout. Help her now and again,” Clint waved his hands as he explained, “And honestly, as two fugitives who can’t use their real names without being turned in to the U.S. Government, this is the best deal we’re gonna get.”
Bucky blinked. Clint talked a lot. He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever.” He couldn’t deny that Clint was right, but he didn’t like losing arguments. He turned his head back to his motorcycle. There were now two old men looking at it and talking. He sneered, turned on his heel, and stomped out of the apartment.
Clint tried to stop him, but just ended up following, “Hey, where the hell are you going?” He whisper-yelled, “You can’t just storm out for no reason, we need to be working together!”
Bucky grumbled as they descended the stairs, “They’re touching my bike.”
“I doubt people are touching your bike,” Clint caught up with him, looking around the corner at Bucky’s vehicle. There was a third man. Where the hell were these guys coming from?
Before Bucky could say something, one man noticed him and began talking in Russian, “Young man! Is this your bike, here?”
Bucky buffered for a moment before responding, “Yes, why?”
“It’s wonderful. Beautifully kept,” Another responded. Bucky was surprised. He was sure they’d be mad. The more he thought about it, he started wondering why he thought that. Why the hell would random old men be mad at him for parking his bike in its spot? “It's an IMZ, yes?”
“Ah-” Bucky processed the question, “Yes, it is. A Planeta 67.” He looked between everyone. The men began to compliment his bike, asking about the specs and maximum speed. Bucky didn’t really have all the answers, but the men made their best guesses. He assumed they were really into motorcycles because they used a lot of words bucky wasn’t really familiar with. Apparently the anatomy of a vehicle had evolved significantly since the 1940s. They now had “standardized controls”, “fuel injection systems”, and “antilock braking systems”. Bucky could guess what a “supercharger” was, but it didn’t sound real until one of the men pointed out a section attached to the main engine. His bike could go a lot faster than he thought.
Clint tapped his left arm gently with one knuckle, “Told you they weren’t touching your bike,” He whispered in Russian.
Bucky scrunched his nose and shot back, “Shut up, I was taking precaution.”
Clint was going to fight back when one of the men caught Bucky’s attention, “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to hear the engine.” Bucky contemplated for a few moments before responding.
“I don’t have the keys on me-” He was interrupted by Clint sliding the keys into his hand. Bucky stared at them, “Why do you have these?”
Clint just shrugged, “I figured you’d need them.” He gave Bucky a sly grin. Bucky huffed at him, then nodded towards the men. He straddled his bike, slotting the key in and turning. The bike beeped at him. It growled to life. The exhaust created steam as the engine warmed up. The men seemed pleased, laughing and chattering in excitement. Bucky held the brake as he revved it, making sure to keep it in place.
“Sounds healthy!” One of the men shouted over the noise. Bucky actually smiled at that, nodding to himself. The moment was broken by a woman’s shouting.
“Filipp! Bring your ass inside! I know you’re bothering that young man and I will not have you commanding him to make noise!” A short, angry woman clad in heavy coats stomped towards them. Bucky quickly shut off his bike, pocketing the keys and slipping off of the seat.
One of the men, who Bucky assumed was Filipp, responded, “Ah, you never let me have any fun!” He grumbled, walking past her in the direction she came from. The other two scattered into different directions, seemingly to avoid her wrath. She turned to Bucky, who looked away.
Before she could say something, Clint held out his arms, “Inga!” She turned towards him, squinting. She slipped on the glasses that were hanging around her neck. Her face lit up, “Ah, Francis!” She pulled him into a bone-crushing hug that Bucky could tell hurt Clint’s back. She then grabbed his face, “I’m glad you’re alright. I was beginning to think you’d gotten yourself killed!” The two shared a laugh.
Bucky watched awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Inga turned towards him, looking him up and down, “And who is this? Francis, introduce me,” She slapped Clint’s stomach. Clint regained his composure quickly, turning to Bucky. He nodded and cocked his head in the direction of Inga.
After a moment of silence, Clint began to speak, “He’s a friend. He’s moving in with me… for the time being.” He explained. Inga nodded, but didn’t look satisfied. She stared at Bucky expectantly.
Bucky took a breath, then responded, “My name is James,” He held out his flesh hand for her to shake. She smiled and laughed at him. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him into a hug. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with it, but he accepted it nonetheless. As she pulled away, to Bucky’s horror, she squeezed his left arm.
Inga made an impressed face, “Ah, firm. My husband used to be like you. Filipp’s gotten off his old workout plan,” She sighed, clearly reminiscing as she patted the metal, “Promise me you’ll never stop yours. You’re too beautiful.” Bucky looked to Clint for help. Clint was very clearly biting his tongue, arms crossed and hand over mouth.
Bucky reluctantly thanked her, attempting to keep his cool, “I… promise to… keep up my regiment,” It sounded more like a question than a response, but he wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Oh-kay, Inga. We have to get back to unpacking. Let's get you home,” Clint wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders.
She turned to him, “Why the rush? You can unpack any time. I have limited days, Francis. I’d like to get to know your friend James better,” She glanced over at Bucky, “So what’s your story? How did someone like Francis find someone like you?”
“ I found him ,” Bucky acted on instinct. He had years of undercover improv skills. He could do this, “We took the same route one night about a month ago.”
Inga smiled, “Well that's nice. It’s good to have some company when walking home. There’s been a lot of dangerous activity in this area,” She looked him up and down, “Although I’m sure you can handle yourself.” Despite the suggestive comment, Bucky didn’t feel bad. In fact, he felt a little empowered. Usually if someone commented on his body he’d shrink away or get aggressive, but this woman wasn’t a threat. And even if she was, he liked the attention. It was a weird feeling. He hadn't felt this proud of himself since he was a kid.
“Inga,” Clint warned playfully.
“Oh, hush. Filipp’s my one and only,” She leaned in to whisper to Clint, “You don’t have any competition here,” Clint sputtered as she slapped his chest. He attempted to deny or explain himself, but his face just lit up red and Inga cast Bucky a knowing glance. The only thing Bucky could think was: Holy Shit. How did she know he was queer? He’d only recently put a word to his complicated romantic feelings and Inga figured him out in a few minutes. Inga must’ve read his mind because she winked before turning and leaving. Clint shouted goodbye.
Bucky looked down at his bike before sighing and walking towards the stairs. Clint caught up with him, “Sorry about her. She’s not super good with boundaries.”
“It’s alright. I like her,” Bucky wasn’t sure he was telling the truth, but he wasn’t lying. He saw Inga as someone to get used to. Someone like Clint. No wonder they clicked so well.
It was quiet as they made their way to their apartment but Clint wouldn’t stop fidgeting. Bucky resumed his inspection while Clint began to unpack what few items he brought. There was a dish here, a mug there, and a few half-dead plants. What really caught Bucky’s eye was a purple and black contraption. Clint had left it on the counter. It wasn’t any small trinket. The more he looked at it, the more questions he had. As he turned it over, he noticed the logo attached to the side. It was an A with an arrow. He’d seen it before. On Steve’s uniform.
Chapter 4: the wind across my back, i feel the shiver
Summary:
Clint confesses he is Hawkeye, they fight, they come back together
This chapter was originally supposed to have Barney, but I may save that for the next one.
Chapter Text
Clint looked over just in time to notice Bucky staring down at his collapsible bow. The only item he brought with him that had an Avengers logo. He broke into a sprint, hoping to snatch the weapon from him. Clint skidded, accidentally slamming his hip into the counter. He grimaced in pain, but reached for the item, “Don’t touch that!” Bucky held it out of his reach, creating distance between the two. Clint kept trying to close the space, but when Bucky slipped his knife from his belt, he held his hands up in defence, “Look, I just want that back.”
“Why?” Bucky glared at him, “What is it?”
“It- Look, I don’t go through your stuff, why are you going through mine?” Clint attempted to snatch it again but Bucky held out the knife. He backed off again.
“What is it, Clint?” He growled, clutching the item with a little too much force. Clint could hear the material begin to creak. He internally cringed.
“It’s a weapon, alright? It’s one of my weapons. Can I please have it back?” Clint pleaded.
“You’re here for me,” Bucky whispered, “Steve sent you, didn’t he?”
“What? No!” Clint exclaimed, “Why would you think-” He glanced at the weapon. Ah shit. He saw it already, “It’s because it has the Avengers logo, huh?”
Bucky gawked at him, “I was starting to like you, Francis .” The inclusion of his middle name made Clint want to retract into himself.
“No-no-no- No! I am not here to capture you or turn you in, alright? I am not an Avenger,” Clint slowly motioned with his hands to emphasize his point.
“Then what the hell are you doing with their equipment?” Bucky stepped forward, holding the knife to Clint’s face. Clint backed himself into a wall.
“Because- I used to be!” Clint confessed. Bucky was silent, so he continued, “I’m not an Avenger anymore, okay? I left them behind, like, a year ago.” The more he talked, the more he convinced himself he was getting through to Bucky, “I used to be called Hawkeye. My main weapon is a bow. I've just… stopped using it. Too recognizable.” He softly motioned to the weapon, “That is a collapsible bow. Tony made it for me so I could transport it easier- and before you ask, no, it is not bugged. Trust me. I’ve disassembled that thing at least four times myself.”
“Why did you leave?” Bucky snarled. The knife had been lowered so that Clint didn’t have to tense.
Clint shook his head, breath heavy, “Because I had to.”
The knife was back at his throat, “Not an answer.”
“Okay! I killed someone, happy? I fucking beat someone to death with my hands because I was angry,” Clint almost leaned into the knife, the frustration of remembering making him lash out. The two didn’t move for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, Bucky withdrew his knife. Slowly.
“Why do you still have this?” Bucky looked at it, brushing his thumb over the logo.
Clint sighed, “I don't know, memories?” He looked away, “We all used to be,” Clint searched for the right word, “friends, I guess.”
After finishing his examination, Bucky held the bow out to Clint. He took it and Bucky responded with a step back, “Show me.”
Staring down at the bow, Clint scoffed, “ Show you ?”
“If they said you had eyes like a hawk, show me. Use that bow. Impress me,” Bucky leaned against the kitchen counter. If Clint was a better man, he would grab an arrow and show Bucky his talent immediately to just get the situation over with. But Clint wasn’t a better man and his thoughts instantly derailed to the look of Bucky’s arms in that tight shirt.
Bucky scowled, “What are you looking at me for? You must have an arrow as well. Find one and shoot something.”
Clint shook his head and became defensive, “Look, Bucky, we’re inside of an apartment right now! What the hell am I gonna shoot?”
“I don’t know! One of your damn plants or something!” The soldier got in his face. Clint scoffed again and rolled his eyes.
“I’m not destroying a plant just to prove I can shoot a bow. That’s absurd,” The two stared at each other. Bucky shook his head.
“Then give me the bow,” He held out his metal hand.
Clint gave him a weird look, “No.”
Bucky responded with a glare that instantly made Clint change his mind. He slumped his shoulders and handed the weapon over, “If you’re not going to use it then you don’t need it.”
“It’s important to me,” Clint explained, unwilling to let it go, “Just don’t-” Bucky yanked it out of Clint’s grip, “don’t break it. Please.”
Bucky pocketed the weapon, keeping his eyes on Clint. He then blinked and turned towards his new room. Clint watched him go quietly. He sighed and returned to unpacking.
——————
It had been two weeks since Bucky found out about Clint being Hawkeye. The man had barely talked to him. Clint had buried himself in his own work, often leaving to check out another one of the tracksuits’ laundering schemes and come home bloody, battered, and with no further information on the whereabouts of his brother. He had found the warehouse that the man he killed told him about. It was empty. Either he had lied and Clint killed him for no reason or they knew Clint was coming and purposefully moved house so Clint had killed that man for no reason.
After one of these charades, at about midday, Clint found himself shirtless and staring in the bathroom mirror. He hissed as he cleaned off a large cut on his shoulder with alcohol. A bullet had grazed him and left a bad gash. He slapped a bandage over it and called it a day, moving on to the next cut.
Bucky passed by the door, but stopped when he noticed Clint. They looked at each other through the mirror. Clint blinked, “Can I help you?”
“How’d that happen?” He asked.
Clint sighed, “A few of them got too close. Had to resort to hand-to-hand without the sword.”
Bucky watched him for a moment. Clint tried his best to ignore his almost-black eyes staring at his back, “Probably wouldn’t have that issue if you used the bow,” He commented. Clint dropped the bandages in the sink, leaning on the counter. He took a deep breath, steeling his rage. Bucky had been making comments like that since he’d found the bow. He’d tried multiple times to convince Clint to use it and each time Clint turned him down. This time was the last straw.
Clint turned around, crowding Bucky like he’d done so many times before, “What is your issue? I told you that I don’t use a bow anymore. Why can’t you just drop it?”
“Why can’t you just use the damn bow?” Bucky sneered back.
“I don’t want to, Bucky!” Clint stepped in his space, forcing Bucky to step back.
“Why not?” Bucky whispered to him. It was a dare. He was daring Clint to try something.
Clint couldn’t give him a solid answer. Well, he could, but he didn’t want to tell him the truth, “It’s personal.”
“If we’re going to be trusting each other I think we’d better get a little personal,” Bucky pushed Clint back a little. It only made Clint stumble, but it pushed his rage further. Clint would never attack him back, of course. He was mad, but he wasn’t stupid.
“Then what about you?” Clint spoke quietly, but not softly. Bucky’s face flickered, flashing a hint of what looked like fear, “I’ve been exposing things about myself to you left and right to get you to trust me and you haven’t told me anything besides things I could've seen in the news. I mean- I confessed to you that I used to be an Avenger. Something that I hoped I would never have had to explain because of all the bad memories,” Clint almost pleaded, “So what about you?”
Bucky stared at him with an unreadable expression, “What about me?” His voice was low. Dangerous.
It took Clint a moment to answer him, “What about Steve? You used to know him. You two were friends. Tell me about him.”
“I don’t want to talk about Steve,” Bucky looked away.
“Talk about Hydra, then,” Clint retorted.
Bucky’s eye twitched, “I am not talking about Hydra.”
“You can’t just demand answers from me and then expect me to not have questions about you in return,” Clint was growing far more frustrated. “Tell me about the Winter Soldier.” Bucky suddenly reached out his left hand, grabbing Clint’s face and pulling him close.
“I am not the Winter Soldier,” The two froze, unsure of what to do next. Bucky was uncomfortably close yet again and Clint, as crazy as it sounded, preferred it this way. It’d been a long time since he’d been this close to someone- physically and emotionally. Clint almost followed him when Bucky let go.
The soldier took one last look at Clint before muttering an apology and running towards the door. It took Clint a second to react, but he called out after him, “Hold on! Where are you going?” Bucky didn’t look back as he grabbed his jacket and keys and stormed out the door. Clint caught the door and exited after him, “Buck, it’s gonna storm-”
Bucky whirled around, “I can handle myself,” He hissed, “And don’t call me Buck.” He continued down the stairs.
Clint took another step, but decided it was best to let him cool off. He still watched him leave, face twisted with concern. Bucky slipped on his helmet and gave Clint one last look before peeling out of the parking lot. After he couldn’t see him anymore, he turned back to head home only to be greeted by Inga. She stood with her hands on her hips.
“You better go after him,” She scolded in Russian, “In all my years of dating, I’ve learned that it's best not to leave the tall, dark, and handsome ones alone for too long. They’ll do something they regret.”
Clint cocked his head, then shook it, “No, Inga- He doesn’t want me to follow him. I fucked up.”
Inga rolled her eyes, “We all fuck up once in a while,” She held out her hand. Clint took it and she maneuvered so she was clutching his arm. She led him back to his door while speaking, “Waiting to fix it will just create distance. Don’t make this mistake a bigger deal than it is.”
“I guess…” Clint sighed, “I just- We’re very complicated people. There’s lots of issues we’re trying to get past. I don’t think I can get him to trust me without fucking up every two weeks and starting back from square one.”
“Francis,” Inga spoke quietly. Clint looked down at him, “Go get him or I will.” Clint nodded. “And for the love of God, put a shirt on. You’ll freeze to death out here.”
He laughed and said his goodbyes to Inga before rushing inside. He hadn’t even noticed how cold he was. He ran to his room, throwing on his warmest clothes. He packed a quick bag of snacks and water- just in case the storm got bad. Clint sprinted down the steps and into his car. It was an old reliable pickup with a backup battery. He bought it off a guy who was modifying a Toyota into a hybrid storm chasing car. It wasn’t the best, but it was good for snow storms.
Luckily, the snow hadn’t picked up yet and they lived in a quiet area, so Clint could follow the traces of Bucky’s tire tracks relatively easily. They led him to the edge of a forest just outside of the city. Bucky’s bike was parked in between two trees. Clint wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t looking. He pulled off the road and parked next to it. Getting out of the car, the wind chill hit him hard. He wasn’t built for this. He was born in Ojai, for Christ's sake.
Wrapping his arms around himself, he checked Bucky’s bike for any sign of a trail. Bucky must not have been wanting to hide very well because he didn’t cover any of his tracks. It took a good few minutes of walking, but he eventually saw what looked like a Bucky-shaped blob leaned up against a tree near a clearing. He approached slowly, making sure to make noise so as to not startle him.
“Bucky?” He called quietly. Bucky shifted, but didn’t respond. Clint walked towards him, circling to his side and sitting down. Each of them stayed quiet. Bucky had his knees up to his chest and his arms folded on his knees. In the least offensive way possible, he looked like a sulking teenager. “What are you thinking about?” Clint asked softly.
“I have… difficulty… trying to remember my past,” Bucky started, “What Hydra did to me…” He sighed, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remember my life before them. At least not with the clarity I want to remember it. Steve, he-” He looked across the clearing, “He brought back a lot of memories. Mostly the good ones. But the more I try to remember the good ones, the more of the bad ones I get.”
Clint nodded, “What are the good ones?”
He could see Bucky doing mental gymnastics. After a second of thinking, Bucky broke out into a small, sincere smile. It was refreshing. Infectious. Clint smiled back, “Steve would try to pick fights with everyone. He’s older than me, but we were the same size when we were kids. He used to have all kinds of health issues so whenever he’d stand up for himself or someone else, he’d usually get beat. I ended up learning how to fight just to help him.” It was strange to think that Steve Rogers used to be a scrawny man who didn’t know how to fight. Clint had only ever known him as Captain America.
Bucky continued, “When he turned 18, he’d wanted to join the war effort, but, because of all of his problems, they wouldn’t let him. Still, he kept trying. Over and over again he would go in with a different name or a fake form just to get into the military…” Bucky’s smile faded, “Eventually, some… scientist approached him and asked if he wanted to be a super soldier, so they made him Captain America. I was upset when he announced he was leaving so I did what I had to and I snuck onto his plane. Only took him a day to figure it out.”
“He wanted me to go home but we were pretty far overseas and the next transport home would take a month. So I stayed. Steve and a few of the commandos trained me to use a gun. They never let me join them on missions, but they wanted me to be able to protect myself. Eventually, I had to,” Bucky played with the gloves on his hands, “The general said I showed ‘proficiency and bravery in combat’. When the next transport showed up, he made me stay. Steve was furious, of course. But there was nothing he could do. After that things get…” Bucky looked at Clint briefly, “fuzzy, I guess.”
Clint nodded. He was no stranger to bad or forgotten memories. Nothing like Bucky’s memories, he imagined, but the concept stayed the same, “I’m sorry for yelling earlier. I honestly should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“No, I deserved it,” He rested his chin on his knees, “I need to start trusting people again if I want my life back. Might as well start with you.”
“Well, it’s not like you have many options,” Clint joked.
Bucky laughed. Clint found he liked the sound of it, “You’re my only option. Besides, I don’t know, Inga.”
“Inga’s a good option,” Clint admitted, “Gives good life advice.”
“I think she thinks we’re a couple,” Bucky responded, an amused grin on his face. Clint laughed back, but he also started panicking. He thought back to what Inga told him and how she had said ‘How did Francis find someone like you? ’ and ‘ You have no competition here ’ and ‘ In all her years of dating’ . Clint hadn’t denied anything. Inga totally thought they were a couple. And Clint was… fine with it? Not just fine with Inga thinking they’re a couple, but fine with the idea of dating Bucky Barnes .
There was a moment of awkward silence before Clint spoke again, “Well, we gotta get home. The storm will be here any second.”
“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. He seemed like he was thinking, too. Were they thinking the same thing? That dating probably wouldn’t be that bad? No, of course not. Bucky was from the 1940s; he probably didn’t even know what being queer was. Well, he probably did if he mentioned Inga thinking they were together. But he was probably saying it as a joke. Right?
Clint’s train of thought derailed as they trudged back to their vehicles. The wind was already starting to pick up and Bucky’s windbreaker didn’t seem to be doing its job. As Bucky reached for his motorcycle, Clint stopped him, “It’s gonna be cold as hell to ride a bike in this weather. Ride with me. We can put it in the bed and take it home.”
Bucky gave him a look he couldn’t read. He set down his helmet and shrugged, “Alright.” That was easy. Clint thought it would be much harder than that. He helped Bucky push his bike into the truck bed and strap it down. Yeah, it was mostly Bucky but Clint liked to think he helped. The two climbed into the car and Clint started up the engine. Warm air filled the space and he could see Bucky visibly relax.
It was a little difficult to pull out of the bank as snow had accumulated in front of them, but the little pickup moved on and they made it home within 30 minutes. They were quiet the whole time, but it wasn’t bad. Clint appreciated a good silence now and again.
They parked just when the storm really started picking up, “I think we should leave your bike in the back for now.” Bucky nodded in agreement and the two bolted towards their apartment to avoid the wind and snow. They shook themselves off outside before entering.
Bucky took his jacket back off, revealing his metal arm again. Clint was always astonished at the realistic way it moved. The plates shifted independently of each other, creating a rippling effect when the ‘muscles’ clenched. Bucky turned to him as he slipped off his boots, “I’m hungry.”
Clint blinked and started taking off his own layers, “Ah, yeah same. Wanna order takeout?”
Bucky shrugged, “Yeah, I don’t think we’ve really gone grocery shopping since we moved in.” It was true. After that first day when Bucky found out, neither had bothered to fill up the fridge. Clint felt a little guilty. He had noticed Bucky was really skinny for someone with so much muscle. Must be that super soldier metabolism. Steve would always have some sort of snack or food with him. He explained that his metabolism digests things a lot quicker- which is why he heals so fast. Clint then decided to promise himself to make sure that Bucky ate enough. He didn’t need his only means of human connection starving himself.
“What are you craving?” Clint slipped off his faintly bloodstained purple converse and shoved them next to Bucky’s boots. Bucky snatched Clint’s phone from his pocket, opening it with ease. Clint watched in confusion, “How the hell do you know my password?”
“I’ve watched you put it in,” He answered nonchalantly. Clint made a ‘huh’ sound. He followed Bucky to the couch where they sat next to each other. Clint leaned over Bucky’s shoulder at his own phone, watching as Bucky looked at different restaurants in the area. There was a lot of back-and-forth about what they wanted to eat, but they settled on a classic- pizza.
They watched cable while they waited. Clint hadn’t moved from his spot next to Bucky. There was a whole couch, but Clint was practically hovering over him. He couldn’t lie, he liked being this close. Plus, Bucky didn’t really seem to mind. Still, Clint needed to find an excuse to move. For his own sanity.
“Wanna watch a movie?” Clint asked, standing to collect the remote from the table. Bucky shrugged and nodded. “Cool. Ever seen Jurassic Park?”
Bucky shook his head, “No, what is it?”
“You’ve never heard of Jurassic Park?” Clint asked, astonished.
“Clint, I didn’t know what an iphone was until a few months ago,” He replied flatly. Clint lowered his head and nodded in defeat. Fair enough. He swapped to the streaming services and found the first Jurassic Park fairly easily.
“It’s a dinosaur movie. Buncha scientists make a zoo of ‘em and they escape and eat people,” He explained, sitting on the other end of the couch. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him, but he attempted to pay no mind, “Jeff Goldblum is in it. He’s pretty hot.” Clint admitted. Bucky’s eyes stayed on him as the movie started.
After a moment, Bucky cleared his throat and asked, “Who’s Jeff Goldblum?” It was a tone Clint had never heard from him before. It sounded like a jealous girlfriend asking who another girl was. It took Clint a moment to collect his thoughts.
“He’s just an old actor. Died a while ago. He’s in, like, three or four of the franchise films, though,” Clint attempted to remember his knowledge of the man, “You’ll know when you see him.”
As the movie went on, Clint still felt Bucky’s gaze every few moments. God, he really had a staring problem. Just before the cast got on the tour vehicles, the doorbell rang. Bucky sprang up, probably in fight or flight. Clint stood up after him, “Hold on- it’s probably the pizza. I’ll get it.”
“No,” Bucky responded quickly, pushing past Clint, “I got it.” Clint slowly sat back down, watching as Bucky opened the door, collected the boxes from the step, then quickly dashed back inside. Most things were delivered by drone in storms, so there wasn’t much interaction needed. Bucky dropped the pizza and paper plates on the table, “Dig in.” He announces, plopping right next to Clint.
Clint was surprised that Bucky wanted to sit so close to him, but he wasn’t complaining. The two ate in relative silence, watching the t-rex breakout. Bucky had questions, of course. Mostly about modern dinosaurs- a topic that Clint was disgustingly educated on. They finished the pizza relatively quickly.
After a long while, Bucky ever so slowly laid his head on Clint’s shoulder. Clint didn’t dare move. He glanced down at him and saw his eyelids were hanging low. He must be exhausted. He knew Bucky never slept well. There had been more than one instance of Clint waking up to hearing Bucky’s nightmares. Their walls weren’t the thickest, so Clint could hear the yelling and crying from across the hall. He was never sure what to do each time, frozen in place by indecision. Did he run to help and risk the embarrassment of both parties or ignore it and let him suffer in silence? Almost every time he found himself outside of Bucky’s door, hesitating to knock.
When he looked again, Bucky had closed his eyes. Was Clint a little peeved that Bucky had fallen asleep before the iconic kitchen scene, but he was overwhelmed with the urge to take care of him. If that included letting Bucky catch some Zs while his arm fell asleep then so be it. The final scene of the movie rapidly approached and when Rexy decided to roar, it woke up Bucky. He sat up and blinked at the screen wearily. He cracked his neck before speaking.
“Sorry, I passed out,” His voice was low and growly.
“It’s alright. You were tired,” Clint looked at his hands, “We should get to bed anyway.”
Bucky hummed in agreement. He stood and Clint soon followed. The two made their way to the hallway, where they had to part ways. Bucky stopped in his doorway, “Goodnight.” He mumbled, rubbing his eye with his flesh hand.
Clint smiled at him, “Night, Bucky.” He closed his door and sighed, collapsing on his bed. He covered his face with his hands, groaning into them. He was in deep, deep shit. He had a stupid teenage crush on Bucky Barnes. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Chapter 5: drive around, live from town to town
Summary:
Barney time
Note from my friend: Hi hi hi this is this guy’s best friend. He’s really good at writing yaoi. Don’t let him fool you – he's actually a diabolical freak. Read more Fantastic 4 fanfiction (gotta bring more awareness to Reed’s Richard) and don’t do drugs, I guess. Or do them in moderation. I don’t give a fuck.
Chapter Text
In the middle of the night, Clint was awoken by screaming. As usual, he sat motionless in his bed, unsure of what path he should take. He kept thinking. Should he get up? They’ve gotten to know each other better. They weren’t fighting anymore. He decided to get up. He opened his door quietly, crossing the hall to knock on Bucky’s door. He hesitated. He could hear crying on the other side. Would Bucky want this? What if he just needed space? He caught himself in a mental fistfight. Every idea was shot down and the questions poured in. He found himself pacing between his door and Bucky’s.
Just as he raised his hand to knock, Bucky swung open the door. They startled each other. Bucky, respectfully, looked like shit. His big brown eyes were red and clouded with tears. His hair was a mess. It looked like he’d been ripping it out. The two stared, silent.
“Hey,” Clint started.
“Hi.” Bucky responded. His voice was weak. It made Clint feel like his heart was being squeezed.
“Are you okay?” He asked softly.
Bucky looked at the floor. He wiped his face with his flesh hand, “Nightmare.” He answered bluntly.
Fuck. Clint wasn't good at this. He’s never been good at comforting people, “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No,” Bucky answered harshly. He sighed immediately after, “I mean- yes, but… not now.”
Clint nodded, “Yeah, of course…” The two fell into an awkward silence.
“So why were you up?” Bucky stepped out of his room. Now they were both standing in the hall in the middle of the night like idiots.
Clint shrugged, “Ah, y’know…” He looked away, “Stuff.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, “Stuff?”
He doubled down, “Yeah, stuff.”
Bucky gave him a look, then let out a half-laugh, “What stuff?”
Clint saw an opportunity. He wasn’t good at comforting people, but he was pretty good at making people laugh. He shrugged again, more exaggerated this time, a smile creeping on his face, “Stuff!”
The other rolled his eyes, “Okay, sure.” He smiled. Clint felt proud. That’s all he was after. He decided to be a little bolder.
“So, since we’re both awake, wanna hang out?”
Bucky scowled at him, “Hang out?”
Clint nodded, “We could watch another movie or play a game or something.”
He blinked, “In the middle of the night?”
“Yeah!” Clint smiled, then looked away, “Might make you feel better.”
He could see the gears turning in Bucky’s head, “Hm,” He shook his head, grinning as well, “Fuck, sure, why not.”
——————
They decided to relax on the couch again. They had the lights off and Bucky had put on a random movie neither of them had heard of. Bucky was curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and Clint was sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of the couch, laptop on the coffee table. He figured that if he was going to have a restless night, he might as well get some tracking done. Each time he took down one of the tracksuits’ operations, he’d planted all sorts of bugs in their systems- all things he’d learned from a combination of Tony’s ramblings and his time in the circus. Usually, they would lead nowhere, but tonight one of his trackers was particularly active.
Over the years, his setup had gotten increasingly complicated. He’d tapped into phones, planted tracking devices, and had automatic transcripts made of conversations. It wasn’t easy to hide from him , but his brother had his ways. As he was following an active signal, he started noticing a strange pattern. The car would weave off and onto roads as if it was avoiding something. Eventually, it veered off the road and into a forest. It came to a halt a few minutes later. He cross-referenced the coordinates with satellite data and came to realize it was an old warehouse. Just north of the Kronotsky Reserve.
He froze, rechecking the data. Did he finally find his brother? After all this time? He’d checked each and every possibility over this past year and he’d not once come across that warehouse. Barney must’ve taught them how to hide their shit. To be safe, he tapped into the local audio of the tracker. Connecting his hearing aids to his computer’s bluetooth, he sat back and watched the transcript roll in.
It was mostly Russian back-and-forth with the occasional rustle and thump of packages being moved, but he heard chatter about ‘the boss’ or ‘the American’. Last time he’d checked, that was his brother. As he listened, a familiar voice popped up. It was like poison in his ears and made him freeze. It was Barney’s. Clint couldn’t even process what he was saying, he was so shocked.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. He jumped and disconnected his hearing aids. They took a second to recalibrate, but he looked up at Bucky anyways. He said something Clint couldn’t hear, but he assumed if Bucky was asking if he was okay. Clint nodded in return.
His hearing came back gradually. Bucky was still looking at him, “Are you sure? You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
Clint sighed, looking back at the screen and saving the location, “I uhm,” His voice was shaky and quiet, “I might’ve found my brother.”
——————
That morning, they’d found themselves at the warehouse. It had been protected by a digital barrier, making it practically invisible. No wonder Clint never found it. He never was very good with the new age of digital stuff. Bucky had insisted he’d come along. He cited something about ‘needing to look out for him’ but Clint knew that he just wanted to see him use his bow. Clint had made the decision to pick up his bow again. He found it weirdly sentimental. It felt like going back to his roots.
“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as they parked behind a cluster of trees just off the dirt road. Clint turned off the car.
“Uhm,” Clint stared straight ahead, thinking. He didn’t have a plan. He was so focused on finding Barney that he hadn’t come up with a plan, “We… get in there and find Barney.”
Bucky blinked at him, “What?”
Clint refused to look over, “Look, I just wing most of these.”
“You ‘just wing it’?” Bucky raised his voice, “Clint, these people have guns! They could kill you and you just wing it ?”
“I know what I’m dealing with, Bucky! I’ve been fighting the tracksuits for years!” Clint finally met his gaze, “I work best when I don’t have a strict plan.”
“Well at least have a semblance of a plan!” Bucky motioned to the warehouse, “Those guys know who you are. They are going to try and kill you.”
“They haven’t yet,” Clint responded, gathering his weapons from the floor of the truck near Bucky’s feet, “And I’m pretty stealthy.”
“Clint,” Bucky grabbed his arm, “Just think for a second. How are we going to get in?”
Clint sighed, pulling his quiver into his lap. He pulled out his phone and brought up a photo of the warehouse, “Well, we’d probably have an advantage if we went in through one of the top windows.”
“Alright, how do we get in there?”
“Probably by… climbing,” Clint answered.
Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, very clearly disappointed, “Let’s use the shack next to the side to get up and then scale the outside platform,” He pointed at the screen to illustrate his plan.
Clint nodded, “Alright, sounds good.” He moved to leave the car, but Bucky grasped his arm with his metal hand. It hurt a little. Surprisingly, Clint didn’t take offense. No, he definitely didn’t hate it, but he didn’t want to dwell on the thought too long.
“And then , we need an escape plan,” Bucky emphasized.
“Right, ah-” He looked over the building again, “Well, we can probably come back the way we came. Or, if there’s not too many lackeys, we could knock ‘em all out and walk out the front.”
Bucky cocked his head, “Wait, are we not killing them?” Clint had become accustomed to having to resort to violent methods. He’d killed people before- indirectly and directly. Ever since that night with the tracksuit, he’d been in a haze. Every time he kills someone he gets the same panicked feeling, then goes numb. It felt like sitting in a hot tub that was too warm and then jumping into a freezing pool. Something like an ice burn.
Clint looked away, “If I can avoid it, yeah. I don’t want to kill them, but sometimes I have to.”
Bucky nodded slowly, “Alright. Minimize the killing… may I ask why?”
“Well, they don’t deserve it. For the most part,” Clint explained, “Most of these guys had no choice. I don’t want to kill someone if they have a chance of being redeemed.”
“Ah, I see,” Bucky agreed, “Understandable.” He took a breath, “So, do you know how many people are inside?”
Clint knew this one, “I’m guessing anywhere from 15 to 20 on a slow day. I’m only expecting about 18. Excluding Barney, of course,” He checked his phone. The place had no security cameras- just guards with radios. Clint wasn’t sure if it was a smart move or a dumb move, “There’s about 6 on the perimeter. They seem easy enough to slip past. The bulk of them are inside. A few guards and a few workers by the looks of the transcripts my bugs got.” He read through some of the captured conversations.
“Bugs?” Bucky questioned.
“Yeah, like,” He made a weird motion with his hands, “Technology bugs, y’know?” Bucky looked confused, but nodded. Clint decided to just leave it at that, “So can we go now?”
Bucky sighed, then nodded, “Yeah, but this is your mission. Not mine. I’ll keep you alive if I need to and that’s it.” Clint couldn’t read his tone exactly, but it didn’t sound very genuine. It could either mean that Bucky didn’t give a shit if he lived or died or that Bucky was definitely going to do more than he needed to. Clint decided the best course of action was to just nod and exit the car.
The two met in front of the truck. Clint flipped a switch on his collar and his digital mask formed around his face. The digital screen loaded itself and Clint swapped through the vision settings- thermal, night vision, normal- just to see that they were working. Bucky, who had been watching him, gave him a once-over, “Is all black really the best option?”
Clint huffed and motioned to Bucky’s outfit, “You’re wearing camo pants and a leather straightjacket. You have no right to judge.”
“It’s a bulletproof vest, not a straightjacket,” Bucky huffed. He checked his weapons, manhandling his rifle, “I got most of the things I use from Hydra. It’s the best protection I have.”
Clint made a face under his mask. He felt a little guilty for indirectly bringing up Hydra, “Well, as long as it keeps you alive.” He started the long trek to the warehouse, “Let’s head in.” Bucky followed.
——————
Once they had entered the digital barrier (which Clint had managed to deactivate just long enough for them to cross) they scaled the side of the building. Clint held a large window open for Bucky as they both climbed through. The warehouse wasn’t very large. It was about the size of a small hangar, which Clint guessed it may have been at one point. The two found their way into the rafters, balancing on a large, sturdy beam. The sun hadn’t risen enough for there to be any shadows- not like there would be anyway with the recent snowstorms.
The two didn’t speak. Both were observing. In said observation, Clint was able to count 10 sleepy guards and 7 workers unloading and loading vehicles with boxes. On the first floor, Clint spotted a door. It was wooden and looked like it had seen better days. There was a window next to it. Looking through, he saw an office. An empty office. Shit. Was Barney gone already?
A loud car pulled up just outside of the warehouse. A few of the guards that had been slacking off stood and pretended to be doing their jobs. The two patiently waited to see what or who would arrive. Within a few minutes, three people entered. Two were wearing similar if not the exact same tracksuit uniform that everyone else was. The third, well, the third one was Barney. That was obvious. If the bright red hair wasn’t enough, he walked in speaking English before switching to Russian.
Clint turned to Bucky. He frantically signed ‘brother’ before pointing at Barney. Bucky looked confused, but he got the overall message. Damn. He’d forgotten Bucky didn’t know ASL. He’d have to teach him something later. Clint took the initiative and leaped from one beam to the other. He didn't consider himself graceful, but he had been trained in tightrope and trapeze. He could leap without making a sound. He’d made it about 3 beams away before he looked back at Bucky.
The soldier was conflicted. He looked like he wanted to jump, but he was hesitating. Clint gave him a ‘what’s wrong?’ gesture. Bucky pointed at the beam, then pointed at his ear, making a motion that mimicked an explosion. He mouthed ‘too loud’. Clint nodded, then looked down to think. He lifted a hand in a ‘stay there’ motion. He dropped under the beam, lowering himself onto a catwalk. He crept along the metal, observing Barney as he spoke. They were talking about shipments and funds. Clint couldn’t give less of a shit. His brother was right there. If he could just-
As he approached the edge of the catwalk and peered over, his foot hit a piece of metal on the edge. It disconnected from the frame and fell to the floor, clattering loudly. Clint mentally cursed himself a million times. It was such a careless mistake. The tracksuits instantly reacted, jumping to their feet and raising their guns. Clint cursed and ran for cover before a few shots were fired. He reached for his belt, unclipping his collapsible bow. He flipped out, knocking an arrow.
Before he could turn and fire, he saw Bucky jump down from the rafters and land on top of a tracksuit. Badass. The guy he landed on was probably dead, but it was still badass. As Bucky ran to cover, Clint spotted another one coming up behind the soldier. He let an arrow loose. It whizzed past Bucky’s head and landed in the chest of the man. Bucky looked at the man, then at Clint, and nodded.
Clint fought his way to the ground, firing a few arrows to incapacitate every tracksuit he could see. Bucky continued to fight hand-to-hand, clearing out most of them. There were only about 3 left when Clint reached the bottom. He started running towards Barney, who sprinted towards his office. He was going to follow when he heard Bucky fall. He skidded to a stop and turned around to see Bucky being pinned down by one of the tracksuits. He fired on him without hesitation, landing an arrow through his neck. The tracksuit collapsed and Bucky pushed him off, glancing at Clint with a silent thanks.
Another man approached and attempted to attack. Clint moved to help, but Bucky stopped him, “I got this! Get Barney!” Bucky shouted at Clint, narrowly dodging a knife to the face. He grabbed the attacker’s hand, twisting his wrist and kicking at his torso, dislocating the man’s shoulder. Bucky shot one last look at him. Clint knew when to stop watching a bloodbath. He turned and ran after Barney.
Just before the door could close, he shot an arrow through the gap. Barney yelped as the arrow hit his thigh, retreating into the room. Clint slid up to it and slipped through the crack in the door. He slammed it behind him. Barney was already cowering on the back wall, scrambling with a gun. He raised it, but Clint already had his bow trained on him. They were at a standstill.
“Put the gun down, Barney. I’m here to talk,” Clint commanded.
His brother came to a slow realization, “...Clint?” He lowered the gun.
Clint returned his arrow and bow to his back. He hesitantly deactivated his mask, “Who else?”
Barney’s face split into a grin, “Little man!” He limped quickly around the desk, arms wide. Clint instinctively unsheathed his Tano- the shorter of his blades- holding it up to his brother. Barney took a step back, “Ah, sorry. Forgot you were super defensive.” His tone was mocking. Clint didn’t like it, “So what brings you here?” He sat on his desk, facing Clint.
Clint found it unnerving that his brother was acting so nonchalantly. He had a damn arrow sticking out of his leg, “I could be asking you the same thing. Why the hell are you here?”
Barney looked at him like he was ridiculous, wincing every few moments at the pain in his leg, “What do you mean? I’m with the tracksuits. They needed to move back to Russia, so I came with them.” He explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Now why are you here?”
“I was following you . I-” Clint came to a sudden and ground shaking realization. He’d assumed Barney hadn’t come here out of his own volition. But what if he did? What if, for this entire year he’d been after Barney, Barney hadn’t needed his help? What if this was all for nothing? No. This wasn’t all for nothing. Barney needed help, “I’m here to help you.”
Barney stared at him in disbelief, “Help… me ?” He covered his heart with one hand, “Oh, little bro, that is very generous of you. I have just the job,” He laughed quietly, “C’mon, sit down.” He motioned to the chair as he moved to stand up, but failed.
Clint furrowed his brows, “Job? What job? I’m here to get you out.” He glanced down at his leg, “Sorry about that, by the way.”
Barney laughed louder, “Get me out? I don’t want to leave , Clint. God, why would I want to do that?”
“What do you mean?” Clint’s face dropped.
“What do you mean what do I mean? I mean I don’t want to leave,” Barney motioned to his office, “It feels like I’m back in the circus! It feels like I’ve got Swordsman with me in spirit. I’m just like them now!”
“Just like them ?” Clint was devastated. All of this was for nothing, “They forced you to stab my damn ears out with a knife, Barney! I thought you hated them! I thought- I thought you wanted me to get you out because-” He sighed and stepped back, “Because I couldn’t get you out the first time. I thought you wanted my help. I don’t want to join you. I just wanted to get you out of this. Help you start fresh.” He held out his hand to help Barney stand.
Barney slapped his hand away, rolling off the desk to stand. His cheery mood dipped into something hateful. He clutched his leg wound, “I don't need your damn help. I run a fucking mafia, Clint!” He laughed, “Swordsman didn’t force me to do anything. I gave them the idea to cut you loose instead of killing you. I’d told you that you needed to work on your loyalty skills, baby bro. Looks like you couldn’t even stay with your little L.A. team either.” Clint’s shoulder’s dropped as Barney confessed, “And I didn’t use a pocket knife. I obviously didn’t want to kill you myself, so I used one of my arrows. It would damage you enough to hurt but wouldn't go deep enough to hit you brain. God, the sound was horrible. Looks like you got over it, though,” He motioned to Clint’s hearing aids as he sat back in his dusty office chair.
Clint stared at the ground, mouth slightly agape and tears pricking his eyes, “But you’re my brother.”
“And you were mine!” Barney shouted, slamming the table with his hands, “And where did that get us? Abandoned in the desert and shoved into a drug den,” He motioned to Clint, then to himself. He looked Clint in the eyes, “If you would just stay with me, we could be brothers again.” Barney looked almost hopeful. It filled Clint with a wave of nausea.
“What is wrong with you?” Clint fought back a sob, “You’re the only family I have left and you want me to help you run a drug empire ? Out of some shitty warehouse basement? After you’ve confessed that you left me for dead to stay in our mentor’s good graces?” He slowly shook his head, “Barney… stop, please. I just want to get you out of here-”
“You can’t!” Barney yelled, “I’m not leaving and you can’t make me.” He sat back down, “This is my life’s work, Clint. I’ve made a name for myself. These people love me-”
"They’re using you!” Clint stepped forward, getting in his brother’s face, “They’re going to use you up and toss you aside just like you did with me. They don’t love you, trust me.”
“Can I trust you?” Barney whispered, “After you’ve insulted my craft and- and me! You’ve insulted me , most of all!” They were both breathing hard in anger, “I’m starting to think I should have killed you.”
Clint prides himself on keeping cool under pressure, but the statement shook him to his core. Here he was, inches away from saving the last remnants of his family, and he was just rejected by the only person he’d ever wanted to truly save. But was he the only one? Didn’t he have others? Natasha? Tony? Bruce? Would they even want him back anymore? Would he ever risk being rejected like this again? Clint leaned back. No. He had someone. And he was right outside the door.
He leaned his head towards the door, keeping his eyes on Barney, “Bucky?” He heard the door open, “I’m done.” He blinked and turned around to see Bucky holding the old metal door open. Blood coated one side of his scarred face and partially obscured his silver arm. He held a brand new handgun that Clint was sure he had swiped off of one of the tracksuits. Bucky looked right past Clint, staring down Barney with a hatred he had never seen before. He would say something about his deep, brown, almost-black eyes, but there was a time and place and this wasn’t it.
Behind him, he could hear Barney fall back into his chair, “The-”
“The Winter Soldier, I know,” Bucky sneered, glaring at the ginger, “Clint, can we leave?” Clint nodded in response, walking out of the door.
Bucky led him out of the building, both solemnly quiet. They trudged through the heavy snow. It had only gotten thicker since their arrival. It would take another 20 minutes to reach the car in these conditions and the tears that had been dripping from Clint’s eyes froze on his eyelashes. He rubbed his eyes, holding his hands over his face to warm his nose. Bucky wouldn’t stop looking at him out of the corner of his eyes and it was driving Clint crazy. He was frustrated. What the hell did he want? He wasn’t the one who had to confront his past. Well, he was but- Clint grumbled to himself. He had no right to be angry at Bucky. They were in the same sinking boat.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked. It was the most genuine concern he’d ever heard from the man. It startled Clint. He looked over at the soldier.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Clint turned ahead. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on his face.
“I didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked you what was wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong!” Clint shouted, not stopping when Bucky flinched and paused. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go to bed. He was hungry and so lost in thought he didn’t even notice Bucky come up beside him.
Bucky pushed forward and stopped right in front of him. Clint bumped into the man, taking a step back and shaking snow off of his head, “Bucky, c’mon don’t do this.” Bucky crossed his arms. Clint attempted to step around. Bucky stepped in front. “Dude, get out of the way.”
“No,” Bucky stared at him blankly, mouth in a disappointed frown and eyes glazed in determination. Clint huffed, attempting to push past. Bucky stopped him with the metal arm, pushing him down. He stumbled back, landing in the snow. He immediately tried to get back up, but the other tripped him, “Sit down, Clint.”
“Bucky, I said I’m fine!” As he tried for a third time to sit up, Bucky dropped in front of him. He held Clint down with one arm.
“You are going to sit here and calm down. Then, you are going to tell me what happened back there. After that, we can leave,” His voice was calm. Clint was not.
He attempted to remove Bucky’s hand, to no avail. Seeing as the soldier wasn’t giving up, his frustration drove him to violence. He grabbed Bucky’s arm and swung his leg up, hooking it over the man’s head and shoulder. He succeeded in surprising him, allowing Clint to knock him off balance. He rolled them over, locking Bucky’s right arm in place while practically sitting on him. Bucky retaliated, of course. Because Clint had a lock on his arm, it took no effort for Bucky to grab his collar and pull him sideways.
They rolled again, this time ending with Bucky on top. Before Clint could fight back, Bucky had gripped the front of Clint’s ronin uniform, lifted him up, and shoved him against a tree. He got incredibly close to Clint’s face, “I am trying to be nice to you. The least you could do is listen to me.” He emphasized his words strongly.
Clint was angry. Tired. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He slowly let go of Bucky’s wrists, resting his head against the tree. Buksy set him down gently. His feet hit the ground, but his legs couldn’t hold him up. He slumped against the tree, quiver scraping the bark. He wanted to cry or sleep or just sit here and wait to die. His eyes became unfocused. He felt tears in his eyes. At some point, Bucky sat beside him. The two stared ahead. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours. The wind was steadily picking up. They had to move. That meant Clint had to talk.
“He wanted to stay. Wanted me to join him,” Clint croaked out, “He said he didn’t want my help. He said,” He stopped himself, taking a breath so his voice didn’t crack, “He was the one who deafened me, y’know?” He looked at Bucky, who made a face like he felt sorry, “I was under the impression that our old mentor told him to do it but-” He looked forward again, “he did it out of his own volition. Told me I needed to work on my loyalty. Said he should have killed me.”
Bucky took a second to respond, “Why did you want to help him?” His voice was so sweet that it made Clint feel sick.
“He’s my brother. I have to get him out of bad situations,” Clint pulled a knee to his chest, hugging it and resting his chin on his kneecap, “or at least I have to try.” Bucky gave him a face like he understood, but Clint wasn’t sure he did. Clint spoke again after a long moment of silence, “I’m cold.”
It was supposed to be a passing comment, but Bucky took initiative to scoot closer, wrapping his arms around Clint. Clint was surprised, of course. The ex-hydra weapon was hugging him. On purpose. To comfort and warm him. He hugged back. God, he wanted to cry. His tears would probably catch up with him tonight.
“Let’s go home, Clint,” Bucky pulled away, standing up. A warm feeling spread under Clint’s skin. Bucky held out a hand, “We can stop for coffee. C’mon, it’ll make you feel better.” The idea of going home with Bucky and warming up with a cup of coffee was too tempting. He let Bucky pull him up as they restarted their walk to the truck.
——————
Entering the car was a relief. The wind couldn’t reach them here. The two took a second to catch their breath. Clint turned to Bucky, watching the man breathe, head tilted back on the seat. His throat moved slightly with each breath. Clint focused on the stubble under his chin. Bucky hadn’t even cleaned the blood off of his face. Clint wondered if it bothered him. He felt himself growing tempted to clean it off. He tore his eyes away before he could act impulsively.
“Sorry if I was too harsh,” Bucky spoke. It was almost a whisper.
Clint looked at him again, “What? No, you weren’t harsh at all.” He fiddled with his hands, “I needed it.”
Bucky nodded, a small smile flashing across his face. He became somewhat solemn again, “So,” He paused, “Your mission is done. What are you doing now?”
“What do you mean?” Clint cocked his head, “I’m not done. Lots of tracksuits are still out there. I’m going to shut down the rest of their operations. Keep the streets safe for Inga and her friends.” He snatched his keys from his pocket, jamming them in the keyhole, “And us, of course.” Saying ‘us’ had a different meaning to Bucky, he was sure of it.
“So you’re not…” Bucky twirled his hand to explain, “leaving?” He had a kicked puppy look in his eyes. Clint took his hand off the keys. Even if he wanted to leave, that would change his mind. Was now the appropriate time to say something about those deep, knowing eyes? Irises that sucked you in like a tar pit. God, they were mesmerizing.
“I can’t leave you now. Not after everything you’ve done for me,” Clint explained softly.
Bucky watched him for a moment. The two shared a look full of emotions Clint couldn’t place at the moment. Then the soldier shrugged, “It’s your life. I won't tell you how to live it.” They laughed before becoming quiet again. Bucky mumbled, “I’m glad, though. I…” He shook his head, staring at his hands, “I wouldn’t want you to.” He wouldn’t? Bucky wanted him to stay? He watched Bucky smile to himself and then glance out of the window, “The snow is lifting. We should get a move on.”
Clint snapped his head back to the dashboard, “Ah, yeah.” He started the car. It took a few tries, the motor barely functioning in the cold. The heat began to circulate through the car as Clint turned, finding his way to the main road again. Now was no time to pine over unrequited feelings. They had a home to get to.
Chapter 6: to the ocean of your love, i am a river
Summary:
VERY LONG CHAPTER!!! Poetry poorly disguised as fanfic. This is disgustingly sweet yearning with a side of nazi killing.
Notes:
Quick tangent: my boys (rats) Claude and Vincent act exactly like Barney and Clint because they’re brothers and Vincent (Barney) acts like he’s on crack and constantly picks fights with Claude (Clint) who is the only reason I passed my animal behavior class (he ran the maze I trained him to run very well).
Bucky POV is back!!!!! This guy is capital L in Love. No more Clint Barton i’m going to explode him (deafeningly loud explosion sound) ((dw his pov will be back later))
THIS IS ABOUT 4 MONTHS LATER!!! I love my time skips. Alpine is coming soon I swear.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Bucky didn’t know much about love. He knew he’d never really found an interest in women and figured that could only mean one thing. He’d never had a chance to act romantically on any of his feelings since he joined the war so early and for that he’s some part grateful. He’s had crushes and one night stands, sure, but he’d never been in love. At least not in love like how everyone says they are.
He’d been staying with Clint Barton for five months now and he’d started to connect a few dots. He started wondering why he felt so comforted by him. How Clint seemed so different and yet so similar. He felt familiar. Like he was someone Bucky had always known, subconsciously. He began to wonder if he had killed someone Clint knew before- and while that may have been true, no target came to mind. The questions poured in and the more he found answers to, the more he realized he wished he hadn’t started asking them in the first place.
Bucky was in love. Finally. And the love hit him like a brick. It was the type of desperate, clingy love that made your ears ring and your vision go blurry and no matter how you tried to sweat it out it stayed in your room like a sickness. The type of love that shoots you point blank and leaves you curled up on the floor, clutching your chest and whimpering like a wounded dog. The thing that would jump you in a back alley for looking at it wrong or talking back when it was being loud in a movie theater. A sweet siren of love that drags you to the depths if you step too far off the ship. A violent, primal, animalistic love that Bucky wished he could take to the vet and put down like a pet with no quality of life left.
Bucky could come up with metaphors for how he felt all day but nothing compared to the pure unbridled yearning he felt for the man who was kind enough to harbor him. Bucky didn’t deserve that love. And even if he did, Clint didn’t deserve Bucky’s problems. There had to have been a mistake somewhere. Whatever god was looking over his life must’ve misplaced his feelings for a childhood fling into Clint Barton and now he was staring at the wrong back muscles cooking him breakfast. There was absolutely no way this was going to end well. Bucky should just leave now. He shouldn’t burden Clint further with his manhunt. He had problems of his own without Bucky recruiting him into his.
Clint turned his head in Bucky’s direction, but kept his eyes on the stove, “How many pancakes do you want?” Bucky refused to stop staring, ignoring the medical drama Clint had put on in favor of admiring the man’s tattoos. He had a large traditional-style hawk holding an arrow on his left bicep- which was disgustingly on the nose for a man named Hawkeye- and a serpentine skeleton that looked somewhere between a snake and a dragon that spiraled from his lower back to his right side. He found himself disgusted at how badly he wanted to touch the ink.
“Bucky?” Clint was looking at him now, “You okay?”
Bucky jumped, “I’m okay. I zoned out.” He answered quickly, “Whatever the normal amount of pancakes is, I don’t know.” He spun around on the couch, facing the screen again. Whatever the normal amount is? Was he stupid? What is the normal amount of pancakes? Whatever. Bucky would probably feel the need to eat more anyway. Maybe Clint didn’t think about it that hard and he was overreacting for nothing. Bucky spaces out all the time for one reason or another. What was one more instance of staring at Clint’s torso? It was normal to space out. Bucky was normal.
Clint brought over two plates for them. Clint’s cooking wasn’t the prettiest, but by god did it taste good. Bucky dug in almost immediately, not realizing how hungry he had been. He muttered a thank you to Clint in between bites. The blonde leaned back into the couch, placing his plate on his stomach to use as a table. Bucky found it horrifically domestic. He felt so safe around Bucky that he prioritized comfort over practicality. Bucky thought it was so adorable that he was overwhelmed with the urge to tear him limb from limb. Clint had said the feeling was called ‘cute aggression’. It was a little ironic since Clint was kind of a slob and probably the opposite of what someone would describe as ‘adorable’. Clint wasn’t adorable like a cat or some other type of small mammal. He was cute in the way a rat was cute. He was smart, sure, but he always looked like he had nothing going on up there. Bucky loved it.
“Do you think House and Wilson are gay?” Clint asked, not looking away from the screen. Bucky blinked, taken aback by the question.
“What?” Bucky responded.
Clint pointed to the screen. There were two characters on the screen. He assumed they were ‘House’ and ‘Wilson’. He didn’t know which was which. He never paid attention to the show anyway, “Those two. They look like they’re together, right?”
Bucky watched the scene for a moment. The characters were having a quiet conversation. There was romantic music in the background, “Sure seems like it.” He answered.
The other hummed and nodded, “Yeah, their biggest mistake with this show was not making them kiss.” Bucky wasn’t sure what Clint’s sexuality was, but Bucky was leaning into the possibility that he could be queer. He could never be sure, of course. He understood that being queer was less dangerous now than it was in the 40s, but that fear stuck with him. You couldn’t just ask someone if they were queer. It could get you killed. Although… It was a lot different now.
“Do you consider yourself queer?” Bucky asked outright. He instantly regretted it, watching Clint stop mid chew to freeze. He swallowed what was in his mouth slowly.
“Uhm, yeah, I do,” He sat up a bit, “Why do you ask?”
Bucky looked away, “Just curious.” He responded quietly. He could feel Clint looking at him. Well that clears things up. Clint was queer in some way. There was a chance. Bucky shot the idea down. No, there wasn’t a chance. Clint was his friend. Yes, he had feelings for the man, but there was no way Clint would willingly be in a relationship with him. He needed to give up now. He needed to change the subject, “Any update on the movement?”
Clint scrambled, “Oh, uh, yeah- I’m sure it’s been updated.” After talking to Barney, Clint offered to use his tech skills to help track down Hydra with Bucky. Bucky had originally declined, but Clint decided to help anyway. It proved to be much more useful than Bucky anticipated. The two had been working overtime to attempt to locate the base Bucky was after. Today, they would finally infiltrate it. What a horrible day to be having all of these thoughts. He was going to gain his autonomy back one dead nazi at a time and all he could think about was how kind Clint was to offer his help. Although, he really should be grateful. Thoughts of Clint were much better than the alternative of his past.
“Looks like they’re gonna be moving in within the next few hours. I say we get ready now to get the jump on them,” Clint worked away at his laptop, tracking a convoy that he had bugged with the help of Bucky’s stealthy meeting infiltrations.
Bucky nodded, “I’ll pack up my things.” He stood up quickly, eager to get out of the situation. He rushed to his room, shutting himself in. Bucky took a moment to regain his composure. He began talking to himself, “C’mon, you idiot, figure this shit out.” He felt like ripping his hair out, “You have people to kill. Get over it.”
He stripped out of his hoodie, searching for his undershirt. As he grabbed it, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His room was dark due to the drawn blinds, but the little light that seeped through shone on his silver arm like a beacon. He stared down at it. Bucky had learned to live with the metal appendage, but his reflection always startled him. He brought his flesh hand to his chest. He felt the scars connecting the metal to his flesh. He had put them there. He brought his hand to his face as he approached the mirror. He stared at his cheeks. He pressed his fingertips into the divots where he had once clawed at them. Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. He found himself… undesirable.
Bucky pulled on his shirt. It was long sleeved, skin tight, and black. It covered his arm and that was all that mattered. He slipped on his cargo pants and his gloves before fastening his vest. It was all black. Perfect for a stealth mission. He pulled the box of weapons out from under his bed, rifling through the guns he’d collected. He began to equip himself with various knives and guns. He’d decided to bring a sniper rifle to cover his long range bases as well as a sawed off shotgun and a pistol for short range. The rifle and handgun had silencers for efficiency, but you couldn’t exactly silence a shotgun very well. He shoved several extra clips and shells of ammo in his pouches before standing to check his equipment. Everything seemed to be in its right place, so he exited his room.
Clint wasn’t in the living room. Bucky assumed he was in his room. He placed his weapons down on the couch, not wanting to carry guns around the house for no reason. He picked up the plates on the coffee table and dumped them in the sink. He’d have to do the dishes later. The tv show that Clint had put on was still playing Bucky stood to observe for a while. He learned which characters were House and Wilson. He also came to the conclusion that yes, they did seem very queer.
The blonde eventually emerged from his room, clad in his usual ronin attire. Bucky would never admit it, but he loved the outfit a little too much. How could he not like it? It was tight black leather with golden accents. Bucky was always one to ogle at people he found attractive and Clint in that outfit was no exception. His bow was hanging from his belt and his purple quiver was strapped to his back. Alongside his swords, he had a revolver. Bucky had seen it a few times. It was out of character for Clint to carry a gun, but Bucky decided not to mention it. Maybe he just felt like using one.
“Ready to go?” Clint asked, fixing his gloves. Bucky was snapped out of his trance and nodded. “Alright. Let's infiltrate a Hydra base.”
——————
Summer in Russia was quite fair. It wasn’t a land of eternal snow like how many people depict it. Today, it was a cool 64 degrees Fahrenheit- about 17 in Celcius. Bucky’s leather jacket cut the breeze as he followed Clint’s truck on his motorcycle. They were headed to a crossroads. Clint would park his truck in a hidden spot so they had a backup vehicle if Bucky’s motorcycle didn’t make it. They would then ride on Bucky’s motorcycle to follow the convoy to the base.
They pulled off to the side of the road. Clint stopped the truck on a maintenance road, stepping out quickly. He jogged up to Bucky, “Okay, trucks are 5 minutes out. Let's check comms.” Clint fiddled with his hearing aids. They were a secondary pair used specifically for mission communication. Bucky pulled out the tiny case used to house an earbud. He wasn’t sure how to use it. He picked up the little device, looking at it curiously. “Need help?” Clint approached.
Bucky took off his helmet, flipping his hair out of his face, “Yeah, I have no clue how this works.” Clint took the device from him, fiddling with it before bringing his hands up to Bucky’s face.
“M’kay, hold still,” Clint leaned in close to Bucky’s ear. He brushed his hair out of the way. It had gotten down to his shoulders since he left hydra. Bucky couldn’t help but shiver at the touch. He felt like a fool for turning to mush at the simplest of touch. The earpiece wasn’t comfortable by any means, but he got used to it quickly. Clint stepped back, touching his hearing aid, “Can you hear me?” His voice came through the earpiece as clear as day.
“Yup, it’s perfect,” Bucky answered quickly.
“Awesome. Just press the earpiece to talk to me. Shouldn’t take too much pressure,” He tapped his ear to emphasize it. He checked his phone for a moment, “Alright. T-minus one minute.” Clint flipped the switch on his mask collar. The black and gold mask shimmered over his face. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but he hopped on the back of the bike, “Let’s get in there.”
Bucky tried not to focus on Clint’s hands on his waist or his knees on his hips, choosing to slip his helmet back on. The thought would make him go crazy, he knew it. The trucks soon came thundering down the road. Bucky used the sound of the convoy to mask the kickstart of his bike. He waited a minute or two to follow, taking the maintenance road beside the main road to trail them without being spotted. Clint’s arms found their way further around Bucky’s waist, holding him a little tighter.
The trucks took a sharp turn around a forested road. Bucky parked his bike in the trees, beckoning Clint off, “We’ll follow on foot.” Bucky definitely could have gotten closer, but Clint being so close was distracting him.
The two sped through the trees, passing through the digital barrier every operation seemed to have now. In front of them stood a bunker. It didn’t seem that large, but the basement was where the bulk of the base was held. The moment it came into view, a switch flipped. He was no longer focused on Clint. He wasn’t even focused on getting the book. This was much bigger than wanting revenge. He wanted to kill every single person in that building. He wanted their blood on his hands. Maybe it would mask the blood that was already there. They circled around to a wall that wasn’t covered by security very well, pressing themselves to the concrete. Bucky took out the security camera, tossing a small dagger into the lens. He turned to a door, trying the handle. It was locked. There was a keypad on the side.
Clint stepped up, “Hold on, I might be able to-” Bucky punched the keypad. The door unlocked. “Nevermind.”
The two snuck in quietly, maneuvering their way to the main elevator. They managed to slip in behind a Hydra agent heading downstairs. Bucky grabbed the man, covering his mouth and holding him to his chest. He held a knife to his throat and mumbled in German, “If you move I’ll slit your throat.” Bucky looked to Clint, who looked at the man, then looked at the doors. Bucky wished he could see his face. For some reason, he wanted approval.
The elevator reached the bottom and Bucky slit the agent’s throat anyway, dragging him out and dumping him in the corner of the hall. The kill didn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as he’d hoped for. He scowled at the body. He joined Clint behind a large crate. There was a long hall that led to an underground loading bay. According to the scans Clint somehow came across- Bucky still wasn’t sure how all the new tech stuff worked- they would need to maneuver through it to find the second elevator to get to the boiler room. There, they could cut the lights and take out the building in the dark. He felt Clint’s hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, are you good?” He asked. Bucky didn’t look at him. He stayed silent, watching a group of men chatter in German. “Bucky.” Clint whispered. The switch flipped again. Suddenly, he was very focused on the fact that Clint was touching him. He turned to look at him. “Your eyes.” Clint sounded awestruck.
Bucky cocked his head, “What?” What about his eyes? What was wrong with his eyes?
“They were blue for a second,” Clint placed his hand on Bucky’s face. He pulled up Bucky’s eyelid gently, “Now they’re back to brown.”
“Oh,” Bucky was frozen in place by the touch. He felt overwhelmed. He moved his head away from Clint’s hand, “Must’ve been a trick of the light.” Were his eyes really blue? Why did that happen?
“I guess,” Clint shrugged, but didn’t seem convinced. Bucky turned back to the workers. He zoned back in on his task.
Bucky began moving towards the open room. He counted a few soldiers covering each truck, two rooms that looked like control centers, a hallway that led somewhere Bucky couldn’t see, a plethora of agents in uniform loading and unloading cargo, and a railroad track spanning the length of the room. The track disappeared into two train tunnels that were blocked off by heavy metal doors. Either the train was out of use or those doors opened. Bucky made a mental note to check later. There were four large garage doors used for trucks- two of which were open and actively being used.
He turned to Clint, “Follow.” It was more a command than anything. It didn’t even feel like he had said it. Since when was he so short with Clint? Bucky led the archer through the room, ducking and weaving when necessary. They entered the hall. Bucky peeked around the corner. There was an elevator. Found it. Two guards were posted on either side. Slipping his pistol from his belt, he fired two silenced shots, dropping them without much effort. He began to walk to the doors, but stopped. He couldn’t hear Clint. He looked over his shoulder.
Clint just stood there. Bucky gave him a weird look, “What are you doing?” Clint seemed to snap out of a trance.
“Sorry,” He walked up to Bucky, “let’s go.” Bucky decided to ignore the pause, grabbing the guard’s identification badge. He swiped it on the elevator door’s keypad. The doors slid open and the two stepped in. The hum of the elevator moving lulled Bucky into a further state of focus. He almost didn’t hear Clint speak, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He didn’t respond, doors opening soon after.
Bucky acted quickly, grabbing both of the guards on either side of the elevator doors and pulling them in. He threw one into the wall while he stabbed the other. Before the second could make any noise, Bucky sent a bullet through his skull. He dropped the one he was holding, letting the man bleed out. As he walked down the dimly lit hall, he could hear Clint rushing to keep up. What was his deal? Clint knew how Bucky fought. This wasn’t the first time. He shouldn’t be surprised by any of this.
“Hey, what’s with the silent treatment? We gotta communicate this plan of yours better. You said we wouldn’t kill anyone until we had good cover,” Clint spoke. Bucky shot him a glare. He didn’t know why. He didn’t feel any hate towards him- except, he did? He felt as if Clint shouldn’t be questioning him. As if Clint had no right to even be talking to him. It didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel like him. Clint gave him a look back, “Don’t give me a look, man, I’m confused.”
Bucky stopped, letting Clint run into his shoulder. He turned to him and spoke in German, “Shut up and follow me.” Clint looked surprised, but the sentence terrified Bucky. The switch flickered. Since when was his default German? His face morphed to show emotion for the first time since they’d entered the building. Bucky looked away, “I’m sorry.” He whispered- this time in English.
Clint deactivated his mask and tilted his head so Bucky would look him in the eyes, “It’s alright,” He matched his volume, “I’m a little worried about you, though. With the whole eye changing thing and silent treatment, I’m a bit concerned about what’s going on in your head.” He glanced around them, checking for people or other instances of life, “Just… stay with me, okay?” When Clint looked at him, it was like he couldn’t look away. There was a message written all over his face that Bucky couldn’t read and it drove him crazy. He’d love to look into it more, but he had a job to do right now. Clint’s face would have to come later.
“I will,” Bucky nodded. He reluctantly turned away, “We need to find the electricity center. Do you have the map?” He felt like he wasn’t in control. It scared him. The last thing he wanted was a winter soldier reemergence in the middle of a hydra facility.
Clint fumbled for his phone, “Yeah, uh, here,” He pulled up the image, leaning in to show Bucky. Bucky committed the image to memory, then nodded in confirmation.
“Okay, this way,” The two maneuvered their way stealthily down the halls. There weren’t many people down there, thankfully, so they were able to reach the electrical room with minimal risk. The door creaked as Clint opened it. Inside, there were multiple large generators humming softly. Bucky looked around at the dim room, “Do you know how to turn them all off?”
Clint nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure I can…” He looked at his watch, which controlled the digital parts of his suit, “Figure it out.” Bucky almost rolled his eyes. He kept watch as Clint zigzagged through the generators. Eventually he mumbled something Bucky couldn’t hear before reaching into his quiver and grabbing an arrow. He stuck it in one of the boxes, “Okay, I have a plan, but we should get up to the next floor before I execute it.”
“What do you mean?” Bucky cocked his head, “We need the cover for the next floor.”
“And we will, but I really think we should get up there right now,” Clint walked to the door, waiting for Bucky’s agreement, “Do you trust me?”
Bucky took a moment, but nodded, “Yeah, I do.” He opened the door and the two left the room. They retraced their steps back to the elevator. Once they were in, Clint checked his watch.
“Okay, be prepared to fight off a bunch of nazis in three, two,” The doors opened on the next floor, “now.” There was a large explosion beneath them. It ricocheted through the facility. The lights flickered, then went out. They were plunged into darkness. Bucky could hear people scrambling. His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly thanks to the serum. He stepped into a small room that led to yet another hall. No one was here, but he could hear the soldiers through the walls. He felt himself slipping in and out of focus as he walked.
Clint came up beside him, “Okay, there should be a catwalk I can get up to in the room coming up. I’ll give you some cover. Let me know when you’re moving on, I’ll follow your lead.”
Bucky stopped him, “Clint, could you-” He felt desperate, attempting to hold on to his voice, “talk to me? Just once in a while?” Clint slowly nodded. Relief washed over him, “I’ll see you in a bit.” Bucky patted Clint’s chest gently before walking into the room. Clint scurried off to gain the high ground.
The next room was large, much like the upstairs level. It looked like an office space or some sort of headquarters. Computers and desks and filing cabinets were strewn about. Clint was right- there was a large catwalk that hung over the room, connecting to two rooms that served as observation booths. Nazis sure loved to be omnipotent to their underlings, huh. Most of the people there were tech workers or scientists, but a select few were definitely soldiers. Bucky could see them fumbling around for their lights or goggles. He couldn’t let that happen. Out of instinct, or perhaps because of some programming, he leaped into action.
Bucky vaulted over a table, pushing a scientist into a guard. The two cried out and Bucky watched as the rest of the guards turned their guns towards him. He disposed of the first two quickly, employing the use of his hunting knife. He dashed away before the first few shots were fired. Most of them had found their lights by now. Bucky was going to make them wish they hadn’t. He moved faster than their lights could follow, weaving in-between desks like a snake in the grass. Someone fired, narrowly missing Bucky’s shoulder.
Before he could retaliate, he was greeted with the whistle of an arrow piercing a soldier’s head. Clint’s voice blessed his ears, “I got him.” He heard another whistle and a drop. With the soldiers distracted, Bucky moved again. He caught at least three more people when an arrow whizzed by his head. It cut down one of the scientists that was sneaking up behind.
Bucky pressed his finger to his ear, “Appreciate it.” He glanced at the rafters, where Clint was looking at him.
“Any time,” Clint moved his gaze to a newly opened door, bow already trained on the new wave of soldiers that was entering. This time, they had night vision.
Bucky ducked behind a desk. He fiddled with his rifle, pulling it from the holster on his back. He set it on the desk, aiming down the sights. As the soldiers began sweeping the room, Bucky dropped one. The rest of them immediately returned fire, so Bucky had to switch positions. Lucky for him, he had a sniper in the rafters. One by one, he watched soldiers drop, each with an arrow in them. Bucky picked off the last few before standing.
“I don’t see any more,” Clint spoke. Bucky began sweeping the room.
“I don’t either.”
“Let’s get a move on. Meet me in the next room?” Clint looked down at him over the rails. Bucky nodded up at him. Clint began to move towards the now open door. Lucky for him, there was an entrance to the next room on the catwalk, too. Bucky followed him from the ground, eyes never leaving Clint’s form.
The next room was uncharacteristically quiet. Bucky could hear his own breathing. It was much smaller and felt like another hallway. It was long and lined with all sorts of different doors, most of which looked like prison doors. It seemed to turn at the end. Nazis really loved their hallways, huh? The catwalk ran the length of the room with a staircase at one end. Bucky pressed his finger to his ear, “Meet me down here. We should sweep the rooms.”
“Got it,” Clint moved above him, heading to the end of the catwalk, “I’ll start on the far end.”
Bucky started with the first door. He checked every crevice and found no one. It was an office, obviously. There was a desk strewn with papers and filing cabinets lining the walls. Bucky huffed. There was no way the book was here. He had to find it soon. He wanted to get out as soon as possible. Moving to the next door, he uncovered an employee lounge. Hydra flags hung from the walls. It disgusted him. He moved on quickly.
The third door was heavy. It had what looked like a mail slot. Another office? No, offices don’t have heavy metal doors. Bucky pulled the door open. It screeched like a banshee. Bucky stepped in.
It took him a moment to realize where he was. The cold, stone walls and floor were stained red from what smelled like blood. He stared at the wall across from the door, staring at the chains on the wall. It was a prison cell. His prison cell. Suddenly, Bucky went cold. He couldn’t process his own thoughts. Nothing was coming through. He couldn’t feel anything.
He turned around to leave, but was met with a closed door. He shook his head, “No, please. Not now.” He turned again. In front of him was himself. A younger version, but still himself. The kid was crying. He was chained to the wall half naked with a bleeding chest. He had been clawing at his arm. Bucky shakily looked at his own left arm, only now realizing the only visible parts of metal were coated in blood. When he looked back at his younger version, he was looking back. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His heart was beating out of his chest.
Bucky dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. Tears dripped down his nose, “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His vision began to blur. He raised a hand slowly to his face. He attempted to wipe it, but a mask blocked him. He tried harder, but he couldn’t feel his hand on his face. He made a noise like the wind was knocked out of him. He clawed at his face, attempting to pry it off. He needed it off. He couldn’t breathe.
He fell to his side, clutching his stomach. He needed help. He knew he did. Bucky raised a hand to his ear, “Clint,” He rasped out, “I need-” He cut himself off. A sharp pain blasted through his chest. He clutched his heart, crying out in pain. He attempted to right himself. He heard Clint’s voice in his ear, but he couldn’t figure out what he was saying. The door opened. Bucky started and backed towards the wall. “Don’t- I’ll comply,” He could barely get the words out.
Clint ran to him, crouching by his side, “Hey- no no no, it’s me. It’s Clint. I’m not going to hurt you.” He set a gentle hand on his shoulder. Bucky flinched, but he held firm, “It’s okay. There’s no one here but us, alright?”
Bucky looked up at him, barely concealed terror on his face. Once he recognized him, he dropped his shoulders, closing his eyes in relief. Clint slipped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky fell into Clint’s chest, body limp. The other pulled him in further for a hug. He relaxed almost instantly. The terror was still there, in the back of his mind. Bucky knew he would never be free from it. But for right now, all he needed to do was focus on listening for Clint’s heartbeat.
“What happened, Buck?” Clint asked softly. Bucky wouldn’t usually let Clint call him that, but right now, he needed the intimacy of the nickname.
“It’s my cell,” He answered bluntly, “This place must be where they kept me. ” His voice was weak and shattered. Clint didn’t speak for a long while.
“I’m sorry,” Clint rubbed Bucky’s back comfortingly. Bucky leaned his face into Clint’s shoulder. He wished they could be turned to stone so Bucky never had to move from Clint’s arms. But, they were in a Hydra base after all. Someone would come looking eventually.
Bucky pulled away, “We need to get a move on.”
“Are you sure? I didn’t see anyone else around here,” Clint had his mask off. He probably could barely see Bucky’s face. Bucky could see him, though. That look was back. The one he couldn’t read. It seemed… affectionate.
“We just need to get that book and get out. I don’t want to spend any more time here than I have to,” Bucky stood slowly and with Clint’s help. He was still shaky.
“Well, good news about that. I found a place it could be hiding,” Bucky perked up at the words.
“Take me there.”
——————
Clint led Bucky down what must’ve been the fifth hall now. He stopped at a door, using a soldier’s keycard to unlock it. The heavy door slid open, revealing a bright office. Clint flinched, quickly turning away to switch off the night vision on his mask. Bucky had to close his eyes for a second to adjust to the light.
“Fuck, this place must have a backup generator,” Clint had deactivated his mask to rub his eyes. Bucky stepped in. He recognized this place, too. There was a large chair in the center of the room. It looked like it had seen better days- covered in blood and rust. Bucky took a deep breath. He just needed the book. Clint stood next to him. Bucky scanned over his face. He looked troubled. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
Bucky moved further, scanning every corner of the room. He found a desk. He nearly broke the damn drawers he searched so fast. It held not a single clue as to the whereabouts of the book. He moved to a cabinet next to it, tearing out paper upon paper. He could hear Clint dropping things, presumably looking as well. “Hey, Bucky, I’m gonna be honest I have no clue what-” Clint’s words were cut off. Bucky spun around quickly.
There was a Hydra superior holding Clint in a chokehold. He held a gun to his head. Clint was frozen in place. Both of his hands were clutched around the nazi’s arm. He clearly wanted to fight back, but the threat of the gun was keeping him in place. Bucky took a step forward, “Put him down.”
The nazi looked terrified as he spoke in Russian, “Longing,” Bucky twitched, “Rusted…”
“Shut up and let him go,” Bucky began to walk towards him. The man pointed his gun at Bucky.
As he opened his mouth to say the next word, Clint grabbed his arm that was holding the weapon for leverage and tossed the man over his shoulder. His back hit the floor with a crack. Clint pulled out his revolver and fired a loud round into the man’s skull. The nazi’s body twitched and convulsed as it died. The blood splashed on Clint’s uniform. They stayed there for a moment.
Clint reached in the man’s coat, searching around before pulling out a book. The book, “Is this it?” He held it up to Bucky. Bucky approached slowly, taking the book from Clint with a softness he didn’t know he had in him. He felt the cover, fingers tracing over the embedded star in the leather cover. Clint stood next to him, “Let’s get out of here, now, okay?” Clint gave him a face that screamed ‘I am so done with this’.
Bucky stared at him for a while, then practically jumped into Clint for a hug. It took a second for Clint to hug him back. He instantly jumped into comfort mode, “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m relieved,” Bucky held him tighter than he ever had. This was the first step. Get the book then kill anyone who knows the words. One person was down. Only a few more to go. Clint patted Bucky’s back.
“That’s good. I thought you were going to have another panic attack,” Clint sighed with relief. Bucky almost laughed. He had so many emotions he felt like he was going crazy. He needed to get out of this place. He gave Clint one last squeeze before he let go.
“Okay, get up, we’re leaving.”
——————
The two had ripped and tore their way through the last of the Hydra troops with a new vigor. They made it out in record time. By now, they were halfway home. Bucky had decided to ride in the truck with Clint, storing his bike in the back of the truck. Fleetwood Mac serenaded them on their ride home. Clint hummed along to ‘Landslide’ softly. It was Bucky’s favorite. He wondered if Clint had queued it on purpose. He’d introduced Bucky to the band a while ago. Apparently, they were Inga’s favorite. He could tell why.
Bucky watched the trees pass. The sun was setting, sending golden rays over the treetops. Clint spoke, “What do you wanna do for dinner?”
Bucky shrugged, “Something heavy. We didn’t have lunch and I’m hungry.”
Clint nodded, “Pasta?” Sounded good to Bucky.
“I’ll order,” He grabbed Clint’s phone. No, he still didn’t have his own. He knew how to use phones, but he just didn’t want one of his own. Well, maybe now he did. He felt like he had a whole life to live now. Bucky opened the phone and was greeted with Clint's music app. He was going to exit the app, but he noticed the name of the playlist. It was his name. “You… made a playlist about me?”
Clint visibly tensed, glancing over, “Oh! No, it’s- I mean, yeah, it’s about you- or not about you, but for you!” He struggled to explain himself, face turning red, “I made a list of songs I know you like so I could play it for you, no big deal.” He shrugged.
Bucky had never felt so touched by something so simple. Clint had made a playlist for him. He took the time to learn what Bucky liked to listen to and compile it together so that he could make Bucky happy. He smiled to himself, “How thoughtful,” His voice was sincere. “You’re adorable.” He laughed, exiting the app to find whatever food app had pasta.
“Adorable?” Clint questioned with an exaggerated tone, “I’m not adorable. Thoughtful, maybe, but not adorable .”
“Eh, pretty adorable,” Bucky mumbled. The two went back and forth for a while but eventually stopped bickering enough to order their food. They pulled up in front of their apartment building, taking the trek up the stairs to their room.
Clint collapsed on the couch as Bucky stripped off his jacket, “I’m taking a shower first. I have way too much blood on me.” Clint gave him a thumbs up.
Bucky showered very quickly, not wanting to lose himself in staring at his own body too long. He scrubbed every inch of blood from his hair and body, changing into the comfiest clothes he could find. He emerged in a tank top and sweatpants, hair still wet and clinging to his face.
Clint, who had just set the takeout on the table, looked over at him. He gave a small wave. Bucky gave a wave back, confused. Clint was looking at him with a strange expression again. It reminded him of the look Clint had given him earlier. The one he couldn’t read.
A realization dawned on him. He recalled all of the little things Clint had been doing. Offering comfort in the hard times, always getting him food, making him a playlist. It was love. It had to have been love. That’s why he didn’t understand it.
He’d found love in his face again. That love that would bring a man to the underworld just to see him again. The type of love that would strike a deal with Hades himself. The love that could lead him from the depths. The love that would turn around. Bucky couldn’t help but want to indulge in it. To bask and bathe in it. To let it shine on his face like sunlight after a long winter. It wasn’t a violent feeling anymore. It was gentle. It cradled him much like rage, but the fire was of passion, not of adrenaline or hate.
Bucky felt as if he was drawn immediately to him. He stepped towards Clint, scanning the face for that expression. He was mesmerized by it. Clint spoke quietly, “Bucky?” Bucky lifted his hand up to Clint’s face. He could feel Clint tense, but neither pulled away.
“Would you use Buck instead? It’s not much of a difference, but it means a lot to me,” Bucky whispered. Clint slowly nodded, slotting one hand over Bucky’s.
“Buck is a little more casual, anyway,” Clint chuckled. Bucky grinned at him. He swiped his thumb over Clint’s cheek, wiping a speck of blood away.
He asked so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d said it, “Can I kiss you?” Clint didn’t even bother responding, leaning in to meet Bucky’s lips. Bucky felt the urge to cry with relief. He’d been thinking about kissing him for weeks now and it had been driving him crazy.
They separated after a long moment. Clint brought his hands up over Bucky’s cheeks, holding his head as he spoke, “I have been waiting for you to fall for my irresistible charm.” His face split into a comedic grin. Bucky immediately rolled his eyes. He was starting to wish he had just gone crazy and dealt with the pining.
“You are the dumbest man I’ve ever met and I'm very disappointed that I actually like you,” Bucky smiled as he removed Clint’s hands from his face, playing with his fingers instead, “And I’m mad that you’re a good kisser. I was hoping I could make fun of you.”
Clint laughed, dropping his head to muffle the sound. Bucky admired his voice. Like he always did. He leaned in again, resting his forehead on Clint’s shoulder. It felt good to transfer some of his weight onto the other. Clint wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. He pulled them together so that they were chest-to-chest. Bucky only stepped closer. If he could, he would find a way to phase through his skin just so he could stay there forever. But he had to settle for a tight hug. He didn't want to let go. He finally had something that was unapologetically his and the feeling was love.
Bucky pulled back just enough to look at Clint’s face. He brought his hand up again, “Go take a shower, stupid. I’ll put on your show.” He patted Clint’s face, who smiled and kissed Bucky’s palm before backing away to the bathroom. He watched him go. Bucky wouldn’t trade the world for this. By god, he would lay down his life to protect it. Nothing or no one could take it from him.
——————
The lights in Bruce’s lab were bright. Far too bright for Natasha’s liking. She knocked on the glass door. Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin, dropping the beaker he was cleaning in the sink. It didn’t shatter, luckily. He scowled over at Natasha, “Jesus Christ, Thor, I told you I’m- oh hi Natasha.” Bruce fixed his face, “Sorry, Thor’s been annoying me all morning about…” He side eyed her, “things.”
Natasha gave him a skeptical look, but decided now wasn’t the best time to look into whatever that was, “It’s alright. Tony sent me to grab you. We have some news,” Usually she’d give the man a smile. They were friends, after all, but she wasn’t in the smiling mood.
Bruce slowly nodded, “Okay, can I clean up first or is it urgent.”
“Pretty urgent,” She sighed. Bruce nodded, removing his gloves and goggles. They speedwalked to the elevator.
Natasha had been looking into Clint’s disappearance for going on two years now and she had finally taken a step closer. However, it wasn’t a step she’d hope she’d take. Steve, who had been looking into Bucky’s disappearance for the last few months, caught wind of a large Hydra disturbance in Russia. He was half-arguing-half-whispering with Tony when Natasha and Bruce entered. He looked up at them and cleared his throat.
“Good, you’re here. I hope I wasn’t interrupting, Doctor Banner.” Bruce shook his head in response, “If you two wouldn’t mind taking a seat, I have some updates on,” He tried to hide a grimace, but Natasha saw, “the Winter Soldier.” The table was mostly full. Steve and Tony stood at the head while the rest of the Avengers littered the sides. Closest to Steve, Sam and Thor sat patiently. Bruce took his seat next to Thor and Natasha crossed the table to sit next to Rhodey, who looked like he really didn’t want to be there.
Steve jumped into the explanation, “A Hydra base on the eastern coast of Russia has been taken down by two men,” Tony pulled up a satellite image of what looked like a forest normal. Next to it, he pulled up an x-ray version. It revealed a large bunker with winding tunnels. “Radio chatter between the bases conveyed that one of them walked straight in and began tearing the forces apart. The other provided cover fire with,” He took a breath, “a bow and arrow.” Natasha could feel eyes on her. She stared at the map, committing the coordinates to memory. “Under closer inspection, we discovered that it was a super soldier facility that was in use during the end of the war. We can only assume that these two were,” Steve leaned on the table. It sounded like he was in pain when he spoke, “Well, we can assume that they are who we all think they are.”
The room was quiet. Sam decided he would be the first to speak, “So when are we leaving?” Natasha always appreciated the man’s fierce loyalty. No wonder Steve liked him so much.
“I’m hoping we can touch down in Russia as soon as possible,” Steve moved on, pacing in front of the screen, “Still, I’m unsure of what we’re walking into. Bucky could be-”
“He’s dangerous. We need to prepare for the worst case scenario,” Tony interjected. It had been obvious he never liked Bucky. Not without reason, of course. The Winter Soldier had been the one who killed Tony’s father all those years ago. His reappearance had been a point of contention between Tony and Steve. The tension had been thick enough that Natasha didn’t want to have to wade through it to share her findings on Clint.
She had been the one to intercept the radio signals between the bases. It hadn’t even been on purpose. She was looking for Red Room transmissions, hoping to find another location so she could finally save some of those girls from the men who exploited them. Instead, she caught wind of rapid and frantic German scrambling to explain that two people- one with a bow- had broken in and were rampaging through the fortress. Natasha connected the dots. It wasn’t that hard. She’d been intercepting transmissions between the tracksuits for ages. A few months ago, she’d caught a conversation between two lackeys about a reappearance of ‘the soldier’ and a ‘coordinated attack from the Ronin’. Natasha didn’t want to believe it at the time, but she had undeniable proof now.
“He’s not-” Steve started. He couldn't deny the danger of confronting Bucky. Yes, they had proof of where he was, but they had no proof he had changed, “There’s a chance he will listen to us.”
“Oh, yeah, let’s just walk up to the Winter Soldier and ask if he wants to take a field trip to L.A. so we can lock him up. I’m sure that will go well,” Tony’s voice was dripping with mockery. Steve had to visibly hold back his anger.
“First of all, his name is Bucky,” Steve took a step forward, “And secondly, we are not going to lock him up! He has to go to trial first. It’s due process. He’s innocent until proven guilty.”
“He’s a terrorist!” Tony shouted.
Steve shouted back, “What, are you going to say that I’m a terrorist, too? He was mind controlled! I was mind controlled! How are we any different?”
“Well, you aren’t credited with hundreds of assassinations of innocent people!” Tony stepped towards him.
“I’m certainly credited with a few ,” Steve moved into Tony’s space. Tony took a step back, clearly intimidated and failing to hide it.
Tony took a breath, clutching his arc reactor out of habit, “Do what you want, but we’re bringing him home in cuffs,” He stormed out of the room, shouting over his shoulder, “We leave in two weeks.”
The table fell silent. Rhodey stood slowly, “I’ll check on him. Keep me updated, Cap.” Steve nodded at him as Rhodey left, his mechanical braces hissing as he walked.
“Steve,” Bruce started, “You have my support. Whatever you need to find him, I will help,” he spoke like he had something more to say.
“... but?” Steve asked hesitantly.
Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. Thor looked at him, giving him an encouraging thumbs up. Bruce gave an awkward smile in return, “I just think… we should leave Tony out of this.”
Sam leaned forward to look at Bruce, “Are you suggesting going behind the back of the guy we get most of our equipment from?” Bruce nodded hesitantly. Sam huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I respect it. I’m still on board, Cap.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Steve nodded to him. He turned to Bruce, “Are you sure you want to do this with us, Doctor?”
“I’ll be your guy in the chair, Steve. I will find a way to distract him when you guys need it. I’m good at buying time,” He nodded his head towards Thor, “This one can create a storm to cover your tracks.” Thor looked around, not expecting to be volunteered.
“Ah, yes I can!” Thor smiled, picking up Mjölnir, “Your tracks will be safe with me, Steve Rogers.”
Steve smiled, “Thank you, Thor. And thank you, Bruce. Your bravery in the face of Tony is truly…” He chuckled, “admirable.”
They turned to Natasha. She nearly jumped. She cleared her throat and looked down. None of them had mentioned Clint. She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t blame them. They had been telling her that if she hadn’t found him yet, he probably didn’t want to be found. Natasha never believed them.
“I’m with you, Steve, but we need to be aware that he’s not alone,” Natasha looked at Steve. She saw him switch gears from determination to pity. Poor little girl trying to find her old friend. She hated it, but she knew why he gave her that look. Until recently, the rest of them had assumed Clint was dead.
Still, Steve nodded, “We’ll find Clint. We have some solid evidence to work off of,” He looked at the screen, “If we find Bucky, Clint won’t be far behind.”
Natasha could only hope. She grabbed the screen controls from the head of the table, “I’ve pinpointed an area where they could be staying. There’s a small town not far from the hydra base and the supposed whereabouts of a large tracksuit hideout. If I’m right and Clint is after the tracksuits while Bucky is after Hydra, they could be in any of these three motels,” She stood to point out the buildings, “Then, of course, there’s a chance that they’ve settled in for the long haul. In that case, we should look at apartment buildings to see if they decided to stay there.” She turned to the men, “Any questions?” They shook their heads.
“Alright then,” Steve turned away from Natasha, “We leave in two days. We need to get the jump on this before Tony realizes. I’ll coordinate with Nick Fury to get us transportation. I’ll keep you all updated.”
The three acknowledged Steve and Natasha before saying their goodbyes. Steve deflated when they left. Natasha felt his exhaustion in her soul. She wasn’t doing any better.
“We will find them,” Steve whispered to himself.
“I don’t doubt that, Steve,” Natasha leaned on the table next to him, “Ready to relive the good ol’ days?” She gave him a weak smile. They’d worked together before. A long, long time ago.
Steve looked at her, then gave a laugh, “I’m ready.” He stood straight, “Let’s go get food. All this anxiety is making me hungry.”
Natasha jumped up, “Shawarma?”
Notes:
I took inspiration for the layout of the Hydra base from a Wolfenstein map so sorry if I poorly described it. Also I wrote the bulk of this while letting my rats free roam so sorry if it looks like there’s a bunch of random scene changes. Rats are quite distracting. Here’s a message from Vincent: Z^^^^^67fnrdmmmmmmm,wdz#@@@@D2 ftcxrrrrrrrr
See y’all latr :)
Chapter 7: talk to me, tell me everything you see
Summary:
Bucky finds Alpine. Steve, Sam, and Nat find Bucky.
Notes:
I inserted my friends Han and Ryan into this one lmao. Han is the mechanic’s assistant and Ryan is the one working the store.
Also: the in-lore reason for all these old cars is that older car models with updated guts have come back into style (think the DeLorean from the end of back to the future or back to the future 2- old car but with futuristic insides). The actual reason is I like old cars and wanted to include them. This rule also applies to music and media because I'm not creative enough to come up with futuristic movies.
Happy pride
Chapter Text
Bucky’s motorcycle had begun to make a weird noise. It was a sort of clicking-banging sound somewhere near the bottom. He’d asked Fillip, Inga’s husband, what he thought of it and he’d told him that the bike could have an issue with the spark cap. Bucky didn’t consider himself inept with vehicles- he used to work at the docks when he was younger. A few of the workers had taught him basic maintenance on ships and other locomotives, but he wasn’t familiar with the guts of motorcycles. Bucky asked if Fillip or his friends could do anything, to which they reluctantly declined. Fillip recited that his ‘old bones wouldn’t let him repair things like he used to’. Bucky didn’t blame him, but it was an inconvenience. He ended up having to drive it down to a local repair shop.
He always had major anxiety when interacting with new people. He used to be so sociable when he was younger, but ever since leaving Hydra, it’s like he forgot how to interact with other humans. The bell rang as he entered the shop. There was a short, muscular middle-aged lady at the front desk. She was arguing- in Russian of course- with a young man with greasy hair and a stench so bad that Bucky had to actively focus on something for fear he would say something. Okay, maybe the smell wasn’t that bad. Bucky had a sensitive nose. He was sure the man had just forgotten to shower. They all had days like that. Bucky stood a little awkwardly as he overheard the conversation.
“I’m telling you, you just needed an oil change,” The woman explained, “It barely had anything in it!”
“No, no. Absolutely not. My friend said that he needed to replace the carburetor, but he’s out of town. I want someone to replace my carburetor,” The man, who had a shrill- and frankly quite annoying- voice, shot back, “And you better not get anywhere near it! It’s a BMW. Imported. It probably costs a year's salary for you.” Bucky was starting to get a glimpse into who this guy was and he didn’t really like it.
The woman, who looked like she was about to fight the kid, took in a deep breath, “Listen, I’m trying to save you money and-”
“Oh, please. Money!” He leaned into the woman’s face, which was his first mistake, “Do you even know how much I make?”
She stared daggers into him. Bucky was scared and he wasn’t even the intended target, “Back up, kid.”
He began his tirade again, “No, I won’t back up until you bring me someone who is competent enough to understand-”
The woman grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him halfway across the counter. Bucky took a step back, choosing to look away. “I am the owner of this shop. There is no one here more competent than me.” She dropped him. The boy looked terrified. She slapped a set of keys on the counter. “Your car is around the back. Have a nice day.” He snatched the keys and ran out, nearly hitting Bucky on the way out.
She then turned her gaze to Bucky, flashing a smile and nodding to him, “Welcome in. What can I do for you, stranger?” She leaned over the counter, one hand on her hip. Bucky took a step forward, only then slipping off his helmet.
“I- uh- I’m just here to have someone look at my bike,” He replied timidly. He felt ridiculous acting so shy. Two days ago he was ripping through a Hydra base. Now he was afraid to talk to a singular shop owner.
“Well that’s no issue,” She looked past him, spotting his bike from the window, “The Planeta is yours, I’m guessing?” Bucky nodded. “Nice model. Vintage. Is it just a shell or is it the original guts?”
“I believe it’s just a shell- or at least that’s what a friend told me,” Bucky continued, “God, I just realized that sounds a lot like that other kid’s story. I’m not trying to undermine you in any way. I’m certain you could do a much better job than me-”
She cut him off by raising a hand, “I get it, bike boy.” Bike boy? What kind of nickname was that? Although, it was pretty fitting. He was a boy with a bike. “I’m guessing you bought it cause it looked cool?”
Bucky looked to the side. He’d stolen it from someone who had rented a motel room next to him. One night, he’d awoken to a woman’s screams. He’d acted on instinct, busting down the door to find a half naked woman with a black eye and a very surprised and drunk older man. He’d punched the guy then decided to give the woman his room for the rest of the time he had it rented and a bit of cash. He needed to move anyway, the punch had done a bit more than just knocked him out. “It’s… from a relative. He, uh, passed.” He’d hoped his voice was convincing enough.
The woman gave him a suspicious gaze, but added something to her computer system, “Alright. Sorry for your loss.”
“I didn’t like him anyway,” Bucky answered without thinking. Thankfully, she laughed.
“We all have them,” She chuckled as she wrote more information, “Alright, lets get it to the back, yeah?” She circled around the desk, walking past Bucky. He followed. She looked over the bike, furrowing her brows. “It’s pretty banged up. Do you go off-roading with it?”
Bucky blinked, “Sometimes, I guess.” Not if he can help it, but Hydra seemed to always have a way to get him off course.
“You guess?” She raised an eyebrow.
Bucky shrugged, “Sometimes the easiest road isn’t the one best paved.”
She blinked at him, “That’s some real poetry, Mr…”
“Ah-” Bucky panicked, “It’s James.”
“Mr. James.”
“Oh- no, my first name is James.”
She straightened up, arms folded, “And what's your last?”
Shit. What was his last name? He couldn’t say Barnes. That would completely out him. “Barton.” He blurted out. What a cliche. He felt like a teenage girl doodling hearts around Clint’s name. Of course that was the first thing he would think of.
She nodded, satisfied, “Well, Mr. Barton, my name is Daria. Nice to meet you,” Daria held out her hand and Bucky shook it quickly, “Let’s get your bike in the shop and hear how she sounds.” Bucky was going to comment on his bike not being a girl, but he quickly realized how juvenile it sounded and simply flipped his bike into neutral. When did he decide that his bike wasn’t a woman anyway?
The garage was fairly loud. A young man was working on the underside of an old Chevy Nova. Some music with heavy guitar was echoing throughout the space. It was in English, surprisingly. Daria yelled, “Han!” The boy, who Bucky assumed was named Han, jumped. He looked over at Daria. “Turn that down. It’s too loud for me to think.”
“Sorry,” He replied, tapping on a small holographic screen next to him. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had seen holographics, but each time he did it was like seeing gold in a river. He was absolutely fascinated by it.
“Alright, Mr. Barton. Start her up,” Daria motioned to the bike. Bucky quickly sat on it, turning the key in the ignition. It clicked like usual, turning to a banging when he revved it. Daria’s brows furrowed, “Sounds like a pretty simple fix, but I’d like to look over everything just in case. Do you mind if I run a simple check-up?”
Bucky shrugged. His bike had nothing to hide. He made sure of that, “Sure! Whatever you think is best, ma’am.”
Daria snorted a laugh, “Ma’am? I’m barely older than you!”
Bucky lowered his head slightly, “Sorry, I was just raised to call women ma’am-”
“Oh, don’t take it to heart. I was only messing with you,” She slapped the back of her hand against Bucky’s chest. She hit the metal plate covering his pectoral. Bucky mentally froze, hoping his face didn’t show how scared he was. Daria didn’t seem to react, so Bucky simply turned off the bike and got off.
“So, should I leave these with you?” He held out the keys. Daria nodded while taking them.
“Yup! Although, I should take down a bit of your information. Follow me to the front,” Bucky followed her to the shop through a small door in the garage. He couldn’t lie, he was afraid of what information she needed, but he convinced himself he could improv out of it.
They reached the counter and Bucky leaned on the customer’s side. Daria pulled up a holographic screen, “Alright. James Barton,” She typed out his name before switching lines, “Can I have a number I can call when I’m done?”
Bucky processed what ‘number’ meant, then quickly realized she had meant phone number. “Ah, yeah!” Thank god Clint had decided to get him his own phone before he did this. He’d have to thank him when he got home. Ugh, that’d go straight to his ego. Maybe he should hold off. He pulled out the device. It was definitely older, but it had all the functions he needed. He pulled up what number he needed to give and read it off to Daria.
“Lemme guess, new phone?” She joked, finalizing the page.
Bucky laughed with her, “Yeah, new phone.”
They finished their interaction and Bucky went to sit in the lobby and text Clint. He’d gotten the hang of the device quickly- spending almost a full day just exploring his phone and taking stupid photos of Clint. He updated the man on his progress.
I’ve turned in the bike. I’m waiting for the mechanic to finish.
Did you need me to shop for anything while I’m out?
ya
Okay, what do you need?
Stuff
Clint, stop.
Ok sorry
Jus some snacks n cofe
Mmaybe some lunch if we’re feeling adventerous
Do you know how to spell?
ya
Then why don’t you?
Caus its funny
You’re infuriating.
I kjnow <3
Bucky smiled to himself before putting his phone away. He collected his helmet and headed out the door, walking down the quiet street. The town they were staying in was very small. They knew quite a few people already. Mostly the ones who ran the grocery stores, coffee shops, and restaurants, but that was at least half of the population. They’d established a reputation, almost. He was pretty sure most people knew that they weren’t exactly Russian, but everyone seemed to have a ‘not my business’ attitude. Bucky preferred it that way.
He entered the small grocery store, bell ringing. The kid, who Bucky recognized as Ryan, was typing something on his laptop when he looked up. Ryan waved and greeted him, “Hey, James! What’s up?”
Bucky gave an awkward wave, “Hi, Ryan. Just here to pick up things for Francis.” He nearly fumbled the name.
Ryan nodded, “Of course. Lemme know if you need anything!”
Bucky decided to not take too long in the store. It was slow and he didn’t want to keep Ryan from what Bucky assumed was his homework. He grabbed Clint’s favorite coffee and a few miscellaneous sweet snacks, then checked out. He kept things short- not to be rude to Ryan, but out of respect for his time. Clint was always the more sociable one anyway.
He moved on to the restaurant next door. It was a small Italian place that Clint had gotten addicted to. He absolutely adored their garlic knots, so Bucky decided to order a few to keep him satiated. Luckily, he didn’t know the girl at the front counter, so he didn’t have to talk much. He paid for the food and left quickly, hoping that the repair wouldn’t take too long. Staying outside for more than an hour or two made Bucky nervous. Anyone could be watching.
As he turned the corner, he heard snickering from one of the tiny alleyways in between the auto shop and another store. Glancing briefly, he saw two boys crowded in a corner. He was going to ignore it, but his gut told him to look again. He stopped in his tracks, watching the kids. They seemed to be looking at or playing with something in the corner. Squinting, he saw a flash of white fur. It was an animal. He took a silent step into the alley, watching as the boys stomped the ground, scaring it further. Bucky wouldn’t stand for that.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He barked in Russian. The boys turned around, terrified. They looked at each other, then at Bucky. They were speechless. “You can either leave it alone or I will make you. Choice is yours.” Bucky stepped to the side, motioning to the open alleyway behind him. The two hesitated, but sprinted past Bucky quickly.
He made sure they were gone before turning back to the alley. The animal was a kitten. It was dirty and tiny. It had wide blue eyes and its fur was stuck together with grime and what Bucky hoped wasn’t blood. He approached it slowly. It arched its back and hissed. Bucky took a knee, holding out his hand. The kitten didn’t move. Bucky dropped his shoulders. The poor thing was terrified and he was probably going to give it a heart attack. With a heavy sigh, he stood back up. He shouldn’t take it home. It’d be a liability. As much as he loved cats, he wouldn’t be able to give it a good life. He turned to leave, but noticed something.
A small falcon perched on the ledge of the building. The kitten was smaller. It would get picked up if he didn’t interfere. Curse his stupid bleeding heart. As the bird spread its wings, Bucky whipped around and snatched the kitten up. To his surprise, it didn’t swoop down. It just took to the air and flew away, screeching into the sky. Maybe he scared it off.
The small animal hissed and clawed at his metal arm, eyes wide with terror. He shushed it gently, “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.” He petted it gently. It seemed to calm down slightly, but was still puffed up and clinging to his arm with strength that Bucky was surprised a kitten could have. He unzipped his jacket a little, setting the kitten in the little pocket. He cooed at it as he walked back out, “I gotta get you looked at, little one. Get you to a good home.”
He pulled out his phone, navigating to google and slowly typing out ‘veterinarian’. He received a few results- one of which was very close. He sighed with relief. He wouldn’t have to go far. He began down the side of the street, speed walking to the office. At his enhanced speed, it only took about 15 minutes to walk across town to the animal hospital. It wasn’t very busy, so he was able to walk right up to the counter.
Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly. The woman working the desk moved her head towards him, eyes on the screen, “One moment,” She finished typing, “Okay, how can I- oh, look at that!” She looked at Bucky’s jacket. Following her gaze, Bucky found the kitten with its head poking out of his jacket. She reached out to pet it, but it hissed. She jumped but kept a smile nonetheless, “Oh, a spicy one. I’m guessing you’re here for a checkup?”
He nodded, “Yeah, I found this cat in an alley and wanted to see if she was okay. Some kids were kicking at her.”
The woman shook her head, “Kids these days. No respect at all.” She typed a few things, “Can I get your name?” Bucky hesitated for a moment.
“James Barton,” He said, a bit more confidently this time. A wave of shame came over him. Was he really that proud of himself for using Clint’s last name as his own? Was this normal? God, Bucky had no idea how love worked.
“And did you name the little one?” She asked with a smile.
Bucky looked down at the cat’s face, “Uhm,” He thought for a second. It was a white cat. With blue eyes. It reminded him of snow. Snowy? No, that was cliche. He needed to get more niche, “Alpine.” He decided, “Like the trees.” He looked back up. The woman nodded and added it to her computer.
“Alright, Alpine it is. You can come back with me. I’ll perform a quick exam,” Bucky followed her into a bright, sterilized room. He tried his hardest not to react. This was a vet’s office, not a Hydra chamber. He had nothing to be afraid of. Bucky placed Alpine on the table, not reacting when the cat clawed and hissed at him.
The woman began a simple exam, using thick gloves to pick Alpine up and check its eyes, ears, paws, and body. She straightened up after a while, “Well, she is a girl and about four to five weeks old. She looks severely underweight. Did you happen to see any siblings or a mom?” Bucky shook his head. “Well then she may need to be on a bottle feeding plan for about a week before switching to wet food. You’ll need a bit of formula and some kitten specific high-calorie wet food for her to gain enough weight. Also, a nice warm place to sleep and a litterbox. I recommend some odor-protectant litter and stainless steel pan to minimize smell as well as a heating pad on a low setting.”
Bucky was going to interrupt and say that he wasn’t taking her, but the nurse went on, “She may take a while to warm up to you. She seems somewhat feral.” The woman made a snapping noise with her fingers under the table. Alpine didn’t react. “And there’s a good chance she could be partially deaf. Most white cats are.” Alpine was crouched next to the wall, visibly shaking. Her eyes were terrified and wide. He couldn’t leave her here. She needed somewhere safe and warm.
Bucky nodded, “Alright. I can do that.”
“Would you like me to make you a list?”
“Yes, please.”
——————
Bucky had gotten three bags of cat supplies before he got the text that his bike was ready. He’d nearly forgotten. As he was walking back to the shop, he thought to himself. How the hell was he going to get all of this home? He was on a bike. He didn’t exactly have storage. He also had now-cold garlic knots and groceries to worry about. He set down his bags in the waiting room, sighing to himself. He looked down his jacket, seeing that Alpine had started snoozing in the pocket sewn to the inside.
Daria walked out from the back room, wiping her hands with a rag, “Wow. Did some shopping, Mr. Barton?” Bucky turned to her and nodded shyly. She squinted at his jacket, “What you got in there?” Bucky unzipped his jacket and Alpine poked her sleepy head out. Daria clutched her heart. “Oh, how cute. Where’d you get her?”
“Found her down an alley. She was being cornered by some kids. Vet said she was fine,” Bucky shrugged, “I guess I have a cat now.”
“You’re damn right,” She chuckled, walking behind the counter. “The distribution system got to you.”
“The what?” He asked, cocking his head.
“The cat distribution system.” She clarified. Bucky still had no idea what she was talking about.
“There’s a system that distributes cats?”
Daria laughed, “No, it’s not a real system. It’s just a term for when people attract cats to become pets.”
Bucky nodded. He was still confused, but he let it slide, “Huh. I’ve never heard of that before.”
The two chatted a bit about Alpine and Bucky paid Daria for her services. He looked down briefly to check his messages. Clint had messaged him about 30 minutes ago asking how everything was going. He was almost hesitant to respond.
“Did you need someone to help you take all those bags home?” Daria asked.
Bucky shook his head slowly as he read Clint’s text, “No, I have someone I can call. He’s got a truck.” He hesitated over the call button, “He’s going to be pissed that I’m bringing home a cat.”
Daria nodded, “Yeah, I can sympathize. I remember when my wife brought home our first cat, Catina.” She sighed fondly, “I was so mad. We’re in the middle of moving houses and she brings home this senior cat who doesn’t do well with change. It was hell on earth.”
Wife? Daria was queer? And she was that open about it? Bucky tried not to show it, but his surprise was written all over his face, “Ah, you have… more than one cat?”
She gave him an odd look, “Yeah, we have three. Catina, Bella, and Mia.”
Bucky nodded, “Cute! I love cats!” He hoped the cover was convincing enough. “I gotta call my… guy really quick.” He turned quickly, dialing Clint’s number and stepping outside.
The phone only rang once, “Hey Buck! Everything alright?”
“Ah, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just wondering if you could bring your truck down here,” Bucky cringed at himself. He’d have a lot of explaining to do.
“Uh, sure!” He could hear Clint rustling in the background. “May I ask why?”
“I just have a few things that won’t fit on my motorcycle.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea.
Clint was silent for a moment, “How much did you get?”
“Could you just meet me at the auto store?” Bucky was beginning to lose his patience.
“Alright, alright, I’ll be there in five,” He heard the jingle of Clint’s keys.
“Thank you. I’ll see you soon,” Bucky looked down his jacket at Alpine. She was asleep again.
“See ya, love you, bye.” Clint hung up quickly. Bucky stood paralyzed for a second. ‘Love you’? They’d been in a ‘relationship’ for two days. Wasn’t saying ‘I love you’ supposed to be a big deal? Why did it feel so nonchalant? So natural? He pulled his phone away from his ear, putting it in his pocket. Today was such a weird day.
He re-entered the shop, exchanging a few words with Daria and receiving his keys back. He drove his bike to the front of the shop just as Clint pulled into the parking lot. When he said five minutes, he wasn’t kidding. Clint waltzed over to Bucky, who gave him a nervous smile.
“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” He smirked at Bucky, watching the other roll his eyes.
Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, coming to terms with the confession he had to make, “I have something to tell you and you can’t get mad.”
Clint furrowed his brow, “What is it?”
The soldier unzipped his jacket, pulling out a bleary and half-asleep Alpine from his jacket. Clint stood still. “I found this cat and she needs a home. I’m not taking no for an answer.” Bucky gave his best wide-eyed puppy dog impression. He knew his eyes had some type of effect on Clint and he was using them to his best ability.
Clint looked between Bucky and Alpine, face twisting into one where he looked like he was in pain. He closed his eyes, putting his hand on his hip and pinching the bridge of his nose. Heaving a big sigh, he spoke, “What did you name her?”
“Alpine,” Bucky answered curtly, “According to the vet she’s partially deaf. Like you.” He gave a small smile, hoping Clint would take the joke.
“That’s…” Clint looked at the cat, mouth pulled into a tight line, “You’ve already gotten all the stuff, huh?” Bucky nodded, “Yeah and that’s why you needed the truck. Okay.” He rubbed his face. “Where’s the bags? We’ll take her home.”
Bucky smiled wide, pulling Alpine back into the warmth of his jacket, “They’re inside,” He dismounted his bike, leading Clint to the door. Then, he stopped suddenly, turning around, “Also I accidentally used your last name as my last name.”
Clint was taken aback, “What?”
“She asked for a last name and I panicked,” He whispered, “She thinks my name is James Barton.”
Clint looked not as angry as Bucky thought he would be. In fact, he looked pretty neutral, “That’s actually really cute. You’re playing a dangerous game, but that’s really cute,” His face split into a smile, “Should I use yours if she asks?” He teased.
Bucky scrunched his nose at him, “You’re embarrassing.” He opened the door, waving to Daria, who waved back.
“Is this your guy?” She nodded in Clint’s direction.
“Ah, yes, he is,” Bucky looked away bashfully. It wasn’t a particularly romantic or suggestive phrase, but Bucky was hypersensitive to that sort of stuff. Yes, Clint is his ‘guy’. But what does Daria mean by ‘guy’? Did she know? He wouldn’t be surprised. If Inga figured them out he was sure someone else who was queer could figure them out, too.
Clint held out his hand to Daria, “Francis. I’m his guy.”
Daria chuckled and shook it, “Daria. Nice to meet you, Francis.”
“Nice to meet you too, Daria!” Clint was all too excited to be claiming that name. Bucky loved it, obviously, but there was always that little part of himself that was screaming about how unsafe it was to be acting like that. He shook off the anxiety, picking up a few bags and shoving them into Clint’s hands.
“Alright, don’t socialize too much. We’ll never get home if you start talking,” Bucky teased him. He picked up the remaining few bags, heading towards the door, “Thank you again, Daria.”
“Anytime! Have a good one, you two,” She winked at Clint, who laughed in return. Bucky was starting to become a little paranoid that Daria knew more than she was letting on. He knew it was irrational but damn that deep, dark part of his mind was very convincing. Bucky loaded the bags into the truck carefully, trying to not disturb Alpine too much.
Clint set the bags he was carrying next to Bucky’s. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Bucky, peeking down his jacket, “Lemme see this cat of yours again.” Bucky unzipped his jacket. Alpine blinked in the light, clearly grumpy that she was being awoken so much. Clint sighed as he looked at her, “You’re not gonna replace me, right?”
Bucky chuckled, “She is not going to replace you. You two play very different roles in my life.”
“Hm,” Clint hummed, “I dunno… I quite like having all of your attention.” He wiggled his finger at Alpine, who let out a tiny sigh and nestled back into Bucky’s jacket. Bucky let out an ‘awh’ at the action. He always had a soft spot for animals. “Well, let’s get her home. I’m sure she’s eager for a bath,” Clint commented sarcastically.
“It’s a necessary evil,” Bucky zipped his jacket back up, “I’ll follow you on the bike.” He turned to Clint, who nodded and moved to get in the truck. Bucky stopped him by grabbing his hand. Clint looked back with a ‘hm?’ Bucky wasn’t really sure why he had done that, but he did. He wanted to kiss him. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself. But he wanted to . He desperately wanted to. Nothing particularly intimate or prolonged- just a kiss on the cheek as a goodbye. Something small. But he didn’t. Because he couldn’t.
“Buck?” Clint asked softly, “You’re spacing. What’s wrong?” He stepped closer to Bucky, taking his other hand.
Bucky wanted to hug him, at least, but he knew it would only tempt him further. He slowly removed his hands from Clint’s, “Sorry. It was stupid. I’ll tell you at home.” He turned away before Clint could catch him, snatching his helmet from his bike and putting it on. He cast Clint one last look, “Meet you there.” Bucky started his bike. It roared to life with a new vigor. He sped off onto the road, Alpine safely tucked into his pocket.
——————
The two entered their apartment, setting everything down in the living room. Before they could unpack anything, Bucky sat on the floor. He unzipped his jacket, pulling Alpine out from her cozy spot. He placed her on the ground. Her little body stumbled, but she got her bearings. Clint, who had sat opposite of Bucky, smiled down at her, “Hello little angel.” He held his hand out to her. She sniffed him, then hissed. She stumbled back into Bucky’s legs, clawing her way into his lap. “She doesn’t seem to like me very much.”
“She doesn’t like anyone very much,” Bucky commented, digging in the bag for a liquid treat. He ripped it open and offered it to Alpine, who licked at it happily.
“A lot like you,” Clint laughed. He stood back up, “I’ll start a little bath for her in the sink.” Bucky nodded, focusing on getting Alpine to eat. He tried petting her, but each time he tried she growled in that cute, high-pitched way that kittens think is intimidating. The quiet moment gave Bucky time to think. His mind drifted back to outside Daria’s shop. He felt horrible. Knowing how disgustingly loyal Clint was- which was especially prevalent now- he would probably love to show affection in public. Who was Bucky to deny him that? Were they a good fit? Did he deserve Clint? Did Clint deserve him ? Deserve all his baggage?
“Water should probably be warm, right?” Clint asked from the kitchen.
He looked over, “Yeah. Not too warm. Just about lukewarm.”
Clint nodded, feeling the stream of water, “Alright, I think it’s ready.”
Bucky picked up Alpine with minimal panic from her and the bag that contained the soap. He placed it on the counter next to the sink. Clint stepped aside, allowing Bucky to dip Alpine in the water. She mewled in protest, thrashing around. Bucky held her as gently as he could, afraid his strength would get the better of him, “I know, Alpine. This is for your own good.” The more she moved, the more anxious Bucky got, “Alpine, please.”
Clint held out a hand, “Do you want me to help?”
“No, I can-,” She slipped out of Bucky’s grasp, causing him to panic. He dove his hands in the water, catching her before she sank. He held her to his chest, “Oh, it’s okay, little one. I’m so sorry.” He held her as she trembled. Bucky sighed, “Okay, I may need help.” Without a word, Clint removed Alpine from his hands. She clung to his metal hand, but Clint was able to detach her.
“Okay, you little shit come here,” His voice was affectionate despite his words. He handled her with the utmost care, ignoring the tiny claws ripping up the skin of his arms.
“Don’t be mean to her. She’s scared,” Bucky retorted.
Clint grabbed a bit of soap, scrubbing Alpine’s body down, “I know she is but she’s tearing up my hands, Buck. I’m a little peeved.” Bucky grumbled a bit, desperately wanting to help. He was the one who brought her here. He shouldn’t be passing off the duty of caring for her to Clint. “Why don’t you set up her bed and grab a towel? She’ll need to stay warm after this.”
Bucky nodded quickly, eager to be of service. He dashed back to the bags, taking out a small, insulated hide that doubled as a bed. He set it on the couch, shoving a tiny blanket into it. He brought the bag over to the kitchen, pulling out a fresh towel. Clint, who had finished rinsing off Alpine, snatched the towel and began to dry her off. Bucky grabbed a microwavable heat pack from the shopping bag, heating it up quickly.
“You’re all clean, huh, kitty?” Clint baby-talked the cat, who gave him the meanest look Bucky had ever seen on an animal. Bucky smiled to himself. Maybe he shouldn’t worry. Maybe this cat was the next step to a normal life. He could see himself living out the rest of his days in this small town with Clint and Alpine. But then, like clockwork, the doubt came in. They would be found out eventually. They were both on the run from the same people. No doubt they’d be easy to find if they stayed here. He pulled the heat pack out of the microwave. Clint had walked to the couch, so he joined him.
Bucky placed the heating pack in the bed, “How is she?”
“She’s alright,” Clint responded, drying off the kitten’s face. She had calmed down significantly, but now she was shaking from the cold. Bucky slowly took her from Clint, bringing her close to his chest. He kissed Alpine’s tiny forehead softly.
“You’re probably so cold, huh?” He whispered to her. He lowered the kitten into the warm bed, allowing her to curl up on top of the heating pad. She stared up at him with big blue eyes. He sighed and rubbed a finger over her back. She leaned into it. Bucky smiled, “Not so mad anymore, huh?”
Clint crouched down next to him, “Awh, she’s purring.” He sounded just as excited as Bucky felt. He rested his head on Clint’s shoulder. He felt the other press a kiss to his head. Bucky closed his eyes.
“That was stressful,” He commented, “Let's get those hands patched up.” Clint sat down as Bucky walked to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. He came back and placed it on the coffee table. Opening it, he realized they needed a refill. He made do, patching up Clint's hands delicately and kissing his hands to finish it off, "Feel better?" Clint nodded. T he two decided it would be best to just relax for the rest of the day. Clint got up a few times to grab the now-definitely-cold food and some drinks from the fridge, but they decided their new binge watch was going to be the Godzilla films. From start to finish. Bucky wasn’t sure what Clint’s deal was with giant, monstrous reptiles, but he seemed to have a deep appreciation for the genre of monster movies.
As much as Bucky wanted to participate in Clint’s interests, he couldn’t focus. He was always pulled back to his personal dilemma. Why the hell did Clint choose him of all people? What strings of fate were pulled so that they would end up together like this? Who had decided that he finally needed someone to be with? Why, of all times, did they choose the moment he was actively on the run from the Avengers? And why, of all people, did he get pushed in with the one person who is also actively on the run? He wasn’t sure, but there was one thing that was certain and that was that they loved each other. Bucky knew it. Clint had confessed it. Speaking of, wasn’t that something he should bring up?
Bucky turned in his seat, folding one leg so he could face the other man, “You said you loved me earlier. When I called you.” He stared at Clint, who had an ‘oh shit’ expression.
“Ah, sorry,” Clint cringed and turned away, “It was an accident- well, no it wasn’t but-” He turned back towards Bucky, mimicking his pose, “I mean I didn’t mean to say it. I meant it! But I…” He closed his eyes, head tilted to the ceiling in silent embarrassment, “I didn’t? Mean to say it, that is.”
Bucky watched. He found it incredible how one man could be so awkward and yet so oddly attractive at the same time. He let out a ‘huh’, small smile on his face, “Really?”
Clint looked at him again, then flicked his eyes to the side, “Yeah, why?”
“Is that why you hung up so quickly?” He leaned in, “Because you love me and didn’t want to admit it?” Bucky was toying with him. He’d forgotten just how much he loved getting in Clint’s personal space. Clint tried to stand his ground, but his face got visibly red.
“I- well, yes. That is what I did, yeah.” He nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“Why, if you don’t mind me asking?” Bucky set a hand on Clint’s knee so he could invade his space further. Clint looked down at his hand and a strange, almost melancholy look came across his face. Bucky’s mood quickly flattened as he saw the change. Sensitive topic. Probably not well suited for borderline seduction. Bucky removed his hand, bringing it up to Clint’s face, “Are you alright?”
Clint nodded, looking at his own lap. He brought a hand up to cover Bucky’s, “Yeah, I just-” He took a deep breath, “I fall in love really easily and it’s really hard for me to fall out of it. I’ve had quite a few romantic partners and with most of them… It didn’t end well. Majority of them for the same reason of: ‘you move too fast’, so…” He looked like he was going to say more, but he didn’t.
“I love you, too, by the way,” Bucky commented. Clint looked up at him.
“You do?” Clint sounded genuinely surprised.
“Of course I do, fathead,” Bucky flicked Clint’s forehead, “Why the hell else would I want to be in a relationship with you?”
Clint shrugged, “I dunno, for fun?”
“What fun, Clint? We’re actively being hunted,” Bucky gave him an annoyed look.
He shrugged again, but this time a little more shy, “Sex?”
Bucky blinked at him, “Sex.”
“Yeah, that's why most people get with me,” Clint was entirely serious.
It took a second for Bucky to process the information. It was a stupid sentence but had an underlying sadness that Bucky wasn’t sure how to respond to. “I did not kiss you just so I could have sex with you. I kissed you so that I could start a relationship with you because I am in love with you. If I wanted to just have sex with you, I would’ve done it a long time ago. Plus, we’re actively being hunted. If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t have moved in with you. ” The two stared at each other.
Clint made a face like he was holding back some type of excitement, “Okay.” He said softly. He nodded, a smile cracking at his lips, “Good to know.” He leaned forward to fall on Bucky’s shoulder, “God damn we’re a mess.”
Bucky pet Clint’s hair, “Yes, we are.” A long moment passed where Clint stayed nestled into his shoulder. Bucky watched a giant moth attack a giant lizard. This thing was really made in the image of man’s hubris?
“Is that what you wanted to talk about earlier? Me saying that I love you?” Clint kissed his cheek gently, as if it would soften the mental blow. Bucky had completely forgotten that he wanted to talk to him about being in public. It was his turn to lean into Clint, who accepted him.
“No, actually. It was something different,” Bucky wrapped his arms around Clint’s neck, practically climbing into his lap. He wasn’t sure why, but being this close when talking about something difficult really helped.
“What is it, Buck?” Clint egged him on.
Bucky sighed, “When we’re outside, I really want to kiss you sometimes.”
Clint patted his back gently, “Alright. So do I. What’s the issue?”
“The issue is I can’t. I want to but I can’t,” Bucky tensed his arms, face contorting with frustration. Clint pulled back to look Bucky in the eye.
“What do you mean, hun?” Clint’s voice was soft and understanding and the nickname made Bucky’s heart jump.
“I don’t know,” He whispered, “I know everything is more normalized now, but I just can’t bring myself to believe that. I feel like just existing outside with you is dangerous.”
Clint nodded along slowly, “Well… you’re right but for the wrong reasons. The most dangerous people in this town probably dont give a shit that you’re gay. They’ll try to kill you for other reasons.”
Bucky huffed, “I know that, but I’m paranoid that something is going to happen because we’re together. In my head, as long as we’re not affectionate in public we can get away with this.” They watched each other’s eyes for a second, “It’s something I want to get over, but for now I… I just can’t do it.”
“Oh, Buck, I don’t care that you’re not affectionate with me in public. Honestly, I’m not a big fan of people getting in my business,” Clint chuckled, “You take as long as you need to adjust and when you find you want to show the world…” He tucked a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, “I’ll be there, okay?”
Bucky felt hopeful. Something he hadn’t felt in awhile. Clint was planning for them to be together long enough for Bucky to fully adjust to the new world. The thought of it made Bucky giddy. His face broke out into a smile, “Okay.” Clint smiled back.
He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Bucky mumbled.
Outside the window, a bird took flight.
——————
“Any sign of Redwing?” Steve asked quietly. Steve and Sam were awaiting any sign of the bird. They had decided that day one would be overwatch. They would sit back and scan the town through invisible drones courtesy of Nick Fury while Redwing flew around and reported back. It had been awhile since the bird had shown up.
“Not yet,” Sam sighed, staring through his binoculars at anything vaguely bird shaped. His eyes landed on a shadow in the distance, “Hold on, there she is.” He picked up his whistle and called Redwing in. The bird dove. Sam held his falconry glove up and Redwing landed heavily. For a Prairie Falcon, she was heavy. He scratched her head and gave her a small dead mouse, releasing her onto her perch. She tore at the animal, happy to have a meal after a hard day’s work.
“Alright, let's get back to the motel. Redwing needs a second to rest,” Sam turned to the truck, jumping in the driver’s seat. Redwing’s perch was tucked into the backseat. Steve entered the passenger’s side. It was a quiet ride back to the quinjet.
As the two entered the ramp into the cargo hold, they saw Natasha leaning back on a crate of supplies, laptop open. She was checking the footage from the drones, “Welcome back, boys.”
“Hey, Nat. Any luck with the drones?” Sam set Redwing on her indoor perch.
“Nothing yet. Just a whole bunch of people running errands and random forests,” She sighed. “They could just not be out today. Did Redwing bring back anything?”
“Haven't asked yet. I was waiting to get to a more comfortable place,” He turned to the bird, “Alright, girl what did you see?”
As the two talked, Steve walked up to Natasha, “Any word from Tony?’ He whispered as to not disturb Sam and his bird.
“Thor’s storm worked like a charm. Completely covered our electrical signal. Tony will notice soon, though. We should try to find them as quickly as possible.” Natasha never took her eyes off the screen, scrubbing through hours of footage.
Steve nodded, “Alright, but we should take time to rest. Its been a long day and we’re definitely jetlagged.”
Natasha glanced up at him, flashing a small smile, “I will. I’ll just finish up here and-”
“Hold on, what?” Sam said a bit too loudly. Steve and Natasha looked over to see Redwing chittering to Sam. “Are you absolutely sure?” Redwing chittered again. “Damn…” Sam whispered. He turned to the other two, “Check if one of the drones covered some sort of shopping center with a mechanic. Apparently she saw Bucky over there with a cat.” He turned back and whisper-yelled, “You couldn’t have started with that, Red?”
“A cat?” Steve repeated, “Well- not unlikely. Bucky always loved cats.”
Natasha was already flipping through cameras. On the fifth drone, she stopped. There were definitely a few stores in this one’s view. She squinted, attempting to read the store signs. With enough enhancing and squinting, she was able to read out ‘Daria’s Auto Repair’, “Okay, found something.” She hit play, letting the video play at double speed. The three- well, four if you counted Redwing perched on Sam’s shoulder- gathered around the screen. A few cars came and went. Around midday, a motorcycle entered the parking lot. Natasha paused, “Bucky was on a motorcycle last time, right?”
Steve leaned in, “Yes, he was. I doubt it's the same one, but I wouldn’t put it past him to get another one.” He shifted in place, “Play the rest. See if we can follow the guy on the bike.”
The four scrubbed through the footage with intensity, following the man’s every move. Eventually, they spotted him head down an alleyway. He was followed by Redwing, as confirmed by Sam. The man scared off two boys before picking something up and racing out of the alleway. He then ran at an alarming speed to a veterinary office.
“That has to be him,” Steve whispered, “He had such a love for animals.”
Redwing chittered from Sam’s shoulder. Sam listened to her sounds for a moment, “Redwing says he was shopping around for awhile before heading back to the shop,” he translated as she went on, “Clint might’ve shown up as well.”
Natasha immediately played the footage of the auto store again. Sure enough, Clint showed up in a truck. Her shoulders sunk. There he was. That fucker had evaded her for too long. She was going to rain hellfire on him for leaving so suddenly, “Yup, that’s him.”
“So they are working together,” Steve concluded.
Redwing chirped. Sam spoke, “Maybe a little more than that. Redwing says they’re living together. And she has an approximate area to check. Look at the apartments down the street from the shopping center.”
The camera switched to the mile covered down the road. A small complex came into view. Natasha enhanced the image. Clint’s truck and Bucky’s bike showed up as clear as day, “Bingo.” She muttered.
“Perfect. We have a location. We’ll move in tomorrow morning,” Steve turned to Sam. “Sam, you stay here and monitor the drones and quinjet. You warn us of any trouble that may arise- which includes Tony.” Sam nodded. “Nat, you and I should get some type of rooms so that we can blend in with the local population. We’ll mingle and see if we can find anything else out about them, alright?”
As much as Natasha would love to kick down Clint’s door, she knew she needed to play smart- especially if Clint and Bucky were working together, “No problem.”
“Okay, then I think it’s time we get a good night’s sleep.” Steve clapped his hands before stretching his arms out.
“I’m down for that. I’ll be in my bunk if y’all need anything,” Sam took Redwing and headed to his section of the quinjet. Steve and Nat said their goodnights.
Natasha leaned back onto the crate she was resting against, “I think I’m going to look through this some more. I’ll get to bed soon.”
Steve looked at her with a somewhat disappointed face, “Natasha…”
She sighed, “Trust me with this, Steve.” She looked at him in the eyes.
He tried to hold out, but eventually he folded, “Alright, but not too late.”
“Of course, old man,” She patted his arm, “Goodnight, Steve.”
“Goodnight, Natasha.”
Chapter 8: the sun that's shining lighter than a feather
Summary:
The ‘uh oh’ or ‘oh shit’ chapter, whichever you prefer.
Notes:
Short Chapter :( I had zero ideas for this one so sorry if it sucks
I decided to keep the tentacle arm for religious purposes. I worship the idea of cool metal arms. I mean I bought Cyberpunk 2077 because I thought you could fuck a terrorist version of Keanu Reeves with a cool robot arm. That is basically Bucky Barnes. I think I just like Keanu Reeves. I mean my favorite Sonic character is Shadow and I love the Bill and Ted movies and Matrix movies and I kinda like John Wick. I don’t like Shadow and Matrix because of Keanu, though. I like Shadow because I like Keith Kogane Voltron, who I named myself after, and I like the Matrix because it's a trans allegory (I'm transgender, happy pride). Anyway, enjoy the chapter.
Chapter Text
Four days had passed since Bucky found Alpine. Clint wasn’t going to lie, he loved the little furball. She had brought light to his life that he didn’t know he needed. Bucky seemed to be more active as well. Clint had never seen him that happy so consistently before. It infected him with a similar giddy feeling that he was sure was good for him. It felt like choosing the vegan option on the menu over the meat one. His life felt just a little healthier than he was used to.
They hadn’t gone out much since that day, deciding it would be best to supervise Alpine instead of leaving her alone. Clint had left twice to grab extra supplies like a baby gate and cat toys. Veronica, the cashier he knew because of how often he frequented the store, had teased him about it, commenting on how he and Bucky were ‘so cute’ together. Clint just laughed it off, attempting to derail the conversation out of respect for Bucky's wishes.
Today, which was a Saturday, Clint was napping on the couch. Bucky left that morning to follow a lead on a potential second target who knew his activation code. Clint had offered to come with, but Bucky assured him he could handle it. Plus, someone needed to watch Alpine. Speaking of Alpine, she was curled up in a little ball on Clint’s chest, purring contentedly in Clint’s warmth. She had warmed up to the two very quickly once she realized she wasn’t going to get eaten.
Bucky came home around noon. Clint had taken out his hearing aids to give his ears a break, so he didn’t hear him come in. The soldier placed his helmet on the kitchen counter and tiptoed over, pulling out his phone and snapping a photo of the two. He then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Clint’s forehead to wake him up. It succeeded and Clint groaned blearily. He saw Bucky leaning over him and gave him a tired smile. He couldn’t hear himself, but he asked, “How did the hunt go?”
Clint grabbed his hearing aids from the table as Bucky walked behind him. He slipped them on, then turned to the other. Alpine roused on his chest as he moved. Thankfully, Bucky had decided to start talking after he could hear again, “Went alright. I couldn’t find much, but I did find the meeting I was looking for. Got another potential lead. In a week, there’s supposed to be a meeting of higher-ups. It’s likely one of them will know the code.” Bucky moved Clint’s legs and sat down, setting Clint’s legs on his lap. Alpine instantly trotted over, mewing at him softly. He scratched the cat’s head.
Once Alpine was off of him, Clint sat up, “Sounds promising. Let me know if you need help.” Bucky nodded in response. Clint scooted towards him, now kneeling on the couch. He grabbed Bucky’s face and kissed his cheek, “Glad you’re back in one piece.”
“I know, I’m glad too,” Bucky laughed and turned his head to give him a proper kiss. The two shared moments like this almost everyday. Clint was sure this intense interest would die out eventually, but Bucky seemed to have no intention of shutting down his affection anytime soon and Clint certainly wasn’t going to stop him. He had a lot of love to give and Bucky had a lot of space for it.
“I love this jacket on you, by the way,” Clint tugged on Bucky’s collar. It was thick black leather with a silver zipper. It cut off around the waist and had a belt buckle at the bottom.
Bucky mumbled into Clint’s mouth, “You have a thing for leather, don’t you?”
Clint could feel his face redden, “What makes you say that?”
“Well, you always cling to me when I wear my jacket or my vest. Plus, your Ronin outfit is mostly leather,” He chuckled.
“Okay- it’s only about half leather, but I can see where you’re coming from,” Clint laughed and pulled away, “And if you think that’s a lot of leather you should see my old Hawkeye outfit.” He pulled out his phone, navigating to google. Bucky eagerly leaned over his shoulder as he looked up images of himself. Media sources had taken hundreds of images of him, but he seemed to go unrecognized by most of the world. It worked in his favor, though. He could very easily slip through the cracks.
Pulling up an old photo of him was easier than he’d thought. Apparently, he had gone semi-viral after his disappearance. He shrugged it off. He didn’t really want to look into that right now. The photo he had found showed Clint in his all-leather Hawkeye outfit. It was tight and had his purple symbol across his chest. He also had his signature bow and a flat purple quiver on the back. His arms were exposed save for his forearm guards and he donned matching goggles. Bucky didn’t speak for a moment. Clint started to grow worried, “Any thoughts?”
“Nothing I can say in front of the child,” Bucky covered Alpine’s little ears, to which she responded with a wide-eyed and silly look. “Do you still have that?”
Clint’s face burned, “Not on me.” He replied (somewhat nervously, actually). “Left it back in Cali.”
Bucky hummed, lifting his head with his eyes still trained on the photo. He then turned to Alpine, petting her gently, “That’s a shame.” Clint wasn’t dumb. He knew what Bucky was thinking. In the back of his mind, he secretly wished he’d taken the damn suit. Maybe the conversation would have ended differently. Clint didn’t give up hope just yet.
“Well, if you like that one so much, what’s your opinion of the Ronin suit?” He shut off his phone, tossing it on the coffee table.
“Hm,” Bucky thought for a moment, petting Alpine like he was a villain in a chair waiting for the hero to enter to turn around menacingly, “I’m not sure you want the answer to that right now.” He squinted at Clint out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile on his face.
Clint nodded and stared ahead, “I will keep that in mind…” He took a breath, “Alright, wanna get lunch?” He slapped his knees and stood up.
Bucky shrugged, “Sure, what’d you have in mind?”
“Dunno, but I wanna get out. We’ve kinda been cooped up a bit,” He stretched out his back, “I know you probably don’t wanna go out again, but I would love to try that place near the edge of town. I heard they have enchiladas and I’m eager to see what Russians think an enchilada is.”
“As long as we can bring Alpine. I don’t want to leave her alone for too long,” Bucky scratched behind Alpine’s ears. She purred loudly.
“We can sneak her in using your jacket. She’s quiet and cute. I’m sure they won’t mind.” Clint ran a hand through his hair and picked up his phone, “I’ll get dressed.”
The two changed into comfortable yet practical clothes. As always, they carried weapons on them wherever they went. Clint’s bow was inconspicuous enough to be tucked into his pocket and he always carried a good amount of arrows in his truck- trick arrows included. Both of them hoped to never need to use their weapons spontaneously, but they had a lot of enemies. As they exited their apartment, a voice caught their attention.
“Francis!” Inga called. Her and Filipp were exiting their apartment.
Clint turned and smiled, “Hey, Inga! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
She pulled him into a tight hug, “I’m alright. Still alive.”
“Good to hear,” He laughed, “Where are you guys headed?”
“Oh, we were going to get lunch. We still haven’t decided what place, though.”
Bucky perked up behind Clint, “We were going out to eat, too. You could come with.” Clint nodded. He wouldn’t mind a little double date.
—————— (apologies for not writing the double date, it is just not important to the story at all)
The four returned home relatively early at around 3PM. As they joked and walked to their apartments, Inga was able to pull Clint aside. She stated something about ‘asking for advice’, but it was out of character for her. Despite the odd request, Clint obliged. Once they were out of earshot of Bucky and Filipp, Clint asked, “What’s up?”
Inga’s face changed to an expression of solemn concern, “Francis, something happened the other day I think I should make you aware of.” Clint’s mind jumped to the worst possibilities. Someone might have threatened her or worse- hurt her. Did she need protection? Clint could protect her, he was sure of that.
“What happened?” He leaned in, voice quiet and serious.
“A woman came to my door the other day,” She spoke hesitantly, “She was tall and had bright red hair. She started out talking about a stray cat in the area- a white one, like your sweet little Alpine. I assumed that she had owned the cat once before and that's why she was looking for her, but she kept asking questions about you. ”
Clint’s blood ran cold. A woman with bright red hair asking about him. He knew someone like that, “Did you catch her name?”
Inga slowly shook her head, “She never gave me one. If it’s any consolation, I never told her anything.”
“That’s alright, I-” Clint nodded, “I think I know who she is.” He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering how the hell he was going to tell Bucky. “Inga… I’ve done some bad things. She’s an old friend I left behind to-” She cut him off by pulling him into one of her bone crushing hugs.
“Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, it is none of my business, but you are the closest thing to a son I have. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger. Please, Francis, keep yourself and your little family safe,” Inga held him tightly. Clint could feel tears coming to his eyes. “You’re a good man. You don’t deserve to be looking over your shoulder every night.”
“Thank you, Inga. You have no idea how much you mean to me,” He pulled back. Inga smiled up at him, “I… I think we need to leave.” Clint looked down, processing what he needed to do. “I’ll miss you.” A tear rolled down his cheek. Inga wiped it away.
“Don’t cry, child. I’ll be alright.” She patted his cheek, “Go. You’re running out of time.”
——————
Bucky was waiting for him when he entered the apartment, “That was more fun than I thought it would be. We should go out more often.” Alpine jumped out of Bucky’s jacket and onto the counter. He turned to face Clint, a smile on his face. It quickly fell when he saw Clint’s troubled expression. “What happened?”
Clint stared at the ground, eyes unfocused, “Inga…” He took a breath, “Inga told me that she talked to someone who was asking about us.” All Clint could focus on was how to get Bucky out. If it was him Natasha wanted, it was only him she would get.
“Who?” Bucky asked, voice serious.
“... Natasha.” The name came out like a curse. He loved Natasha. She was his friend. But the idea of her now made Clint sick. Everything he’s built- everything he’d worked for would be swept away because of one name.
Bucky was silent for a long moment, “Okay… This is alright. We can… we can get out… What else did Inga say?”
“She said she only asked about me.” Clint could feel himself grey walling, “Buck, you have a better chance of escaping than I do-”
“No, no, I don’t and don’t say that.” Bucky stood up to him, holding his face with both hands so that they looked each other in the eyes. “We are not splitting up.”
“Please, she’s here for me. I know she is. She’s been after me for the past year,” Clint covered Bucky’s left hand with his own like he’d done so many times before. “I can’t have her catching you. You have so much more to answer to.”
Bucky had started to become angry, “No. I am not leaving without you. We can both get out, Clint, I know we can.”
Clint held his other hand, leaning into Bucky’s space more, “You need to-”
He shook his head, “No. NO. I am not-” Bucky took his hands away, turning towards the window, “I cannot leave you. I-” He stopped suddenly as if he was startled, staring out of the glass. Clint followed his gaze curiously, spotting a falcon perched on their balcony. “That bird…” Bucky started, stepping towards the window. It flew away suddenly, “I’ve seen that bird before.”
“What do you mean?” Clint leaned in curiously.
“When I found Alpine. It was in the alley,” he whispered. Clint could see Bucky doing mental math in his head. There was a long moment of silence before Bucky came to a conclusion, face shifting to realization, “It’s not just Natasha.”
Clint’s eyes widened, “What?”
“Steve and Natasha, when I was fighting them, had the help of a man with a set of mechanical wings and a pet falcon,” Bucky turned to him, “He is here, too.”
Clint processed the information, “It can’t be just them…”
“I think it’s safe to assume that the rest of them are here, too.” Bucky said solemnly.
“No, if Tony or Thor or, fuck, even Bruce were here they’d kick down the door and beat my ass for leaving- well, Thor would probably crush me in a hug first, but still.” Clint ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth, “Steve, though…” They weren’t just looking for him. They had to have been looking for Bucky, too. God, why did he think this would be easy? Natasha wasn’t stupid. She knew Bucky was here. She brought backup. “We need to leave as soon as possible.”
——————
They were packed and ready once night had fallen. The two had packed Bucky’s motorcycle in the back and shoved as many of their possessions and supplies around it as possible. They were headed down a dark, deserted road now. Alpine was asleep in a small carrier at Bucky’s feet and Fleetwood Mac played on the stereo at a low volume. Clint tapped his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. Neither one of them had spoken outside of necessity. They were both paranoid.
Clint checked his rear view for the fifteenth time, only now noticing something. There was a car following them from a distance. Its headlights were off. His heart rate increased. He sped up slightly, searching for the nearest road to turn down. He flicked his eyes between the road and his rear view. Soon, he spotted a maintenance road. “Hold on. Quick turn.” He whipped the wheel, screeching around the corner. He sped down the dirt road.
“Clint, what the hell was that?” Bucky yelled, checking on Alpine in the carrier.
“We’re being followed,” Clint answered quickly. Bucky sat up and checked the side mirror. He groaned in frustration.
“Damnit.” Bucky pulled out his gun, rolling down the window.
Clint stopped him, “Hold on, I might be able to lose them.”
Just as he decided to open his stupid mouth, a shadow flew over the car, temporarily blocking the moonlight. Diving down on the front of the car, a man with mechanical wings kicked down on their hood and flew off quickly. The brightness of the jet on his back temporarily blinded him and Clint slammed on the breaks. Before they could get back on the road, the car from before blocked their path. Without warning, Clint’s car shut off completely. Clint swore loudly, attempting to start it again.
Bucky growled to himself, “Stay here.” He slammed open the door, running to use the body of it as cover.
“Buck, no, don’t-” Clint was cut off by the door closing. He groaned loudly, getting out himself. No way was he going to let Bucky go alone. He snatched a few trick arrows before he slammed the door, flicking open his bow. He joined Bucky’s side.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bucky whisper-yelled.
“Helping you!” Clint whispered back.
“I don’t need-” A taser narrowly missed Bucky’s face. Both men ducked out of the way, looking for the source of the shot. There, in the moonlight, slamming the door to her car, was Natasha. Clint froze in place. She was not happy.
Bucky moved first. He fired two shots, which Natasha dodged. The two ran at each other. Bucky threw a punch, but Natasha was quick. She jammed a hand into his side, making him flinch. In a swift motion, she had him on the ground. Clint snapped out of his head. He needed to help Bucky.
As Clint raised his bow to shoot a trick arrow, a shadow at his side took his attention. Before he could react, he was being thrown sideways by a pair of wings and a kick, sending him into a nearby tree. His head hit the trunk and his world turned to black.
——————
Bucky heard a crack as he craned his neck to face the flying shadow. He turned just in time to see Clint hit a large tree trunk, falling to the ground unconscious. He let out a frightened gasp, nearly choking on air, “NO!” He kicked up dirt as he tossed Natasha aside, standing up and sprinting after Clint.
He got about halfway there before a zapping pain in his left shoulder took over. He tripped and rolled on the ground, the mechanics in his arm spasming uncontrollably. He rose to his knees despite the pain, turning to where Natasha sat half up, arm band raised. Bucky’s eye twitched. Looking down at his arm, he watched the plates move as the electric pulse loosened the metal. It began to twist and deform, shifting into something that resembled tentacles. That was new. He attempted to curl his hand in a fist, only succeeding in condensing the limbs into a point. He had no idea what this was, but there was only one way to find out.
Bucky stood, eyes sinister as he stared at Natasha. Her face was twisted in fear. It was the first time he’d seen it in the woman. Pulling his arm back, he stepped forward and shot out his arm. The metal appendage shot forward, landing like a bullet in the grass near Natasha’s side. She rolled out of the way, jumping to her feet. She was quick, he’ll give her that, but he was faster. Re-aiming, he shot his arm at her leg. The tentacles wrapped around her ankle. He pulled her sideways suddenly, sending her flying across the clearing. She landed with a thud, rolling a few times before coming to a stop.
Now that she was out of the way, he turned back to Clint. Falcon was standing over him, dragging him up. He froze when Bucky saw him, a surprised expression on his face, “Hold on, now-” Bucky didn’t wait for the man to explain. He shot forward again, arm extending fast. Falcon was able to dodge and the tentacles embedded themselves in the tree. Bucky yanked them free as the other man began his open-winged charge at Bucky. He responded by dashing aside grabbing Falcon’s wing with his right hand, twisting and pulling the contraption so that he would go flying in the opposite direction. Falcon spun out, hitting the ground with such force that one of his wings tore off. Bucky didn’t care. He needed to get to Clint.
Bucky slid to Clint’s side, looking over his body. He checked the man’s pulse and breathing, finding them steady. He breathed out a sigh of relief. He picked up Clint’s upper body, cradling his close, “Clint. Wake up. C’mon.” He shook him, hoping he was just stunned. There was no response. “Damnit.” He cursed and held Clint’s face, “Wake up you stupid bastard.”
“Bucky!” He heard a familiar voice call. He turned quickly, changing his stance so that he was facing Steve, who was helping Sam up. Where the hell had he come from? Natasha had already stood up on her own, but she was clutching her side. “Stop this. We don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t care.” Bucky responded, “You already did.” He held Clint’s body like it was a glass statue.
“Listen,” Steve walked towards him, but kept his distance. Sam and Natasha followed slowly. All three looked worse for wear. Bucky didn’t doubt he did, too. “We just want to take you back to the states for a trial. That is all.”
“I don’t believe you,” He huffed. Bucky was tired. He didn’t want to fight anymore. “I don’t…” He was so close to giving up. All he wanted was to be near Clint. He wanted to be safe again. “I’ll comply, just-” he looked at Clint’s unconscious face, “just let me stay with him.” He looked back up, “Please.”
The three looked at each other. A pained look came over Steve’s face, “Bucky… you know we can’t do that.”
“Why?” He hissed. He clung to Clint’s body, tensing like a cornered animal.
Steve held out a calming hand, “Please, trust me. This is for your own good.”
“No, it’s not.” He knew it wasn’t. “You’re scared of me. You think that I'll hurt him. Or you.”
“Buck, that’s not what we-” Steve took a step forward.
“Don’t call me that,” Bucky barked, pulling Clint closer to him. Steve stepped back again. He looked hurt. Something inside Bucky wished he could apologize, but all he could see was a man who had hurt someone he loved. “You don’t get to call me that.”
Steve took a knee. He looked like he was contemplating something. Bucky watched him. “I’m sorry.”
Bucky shook his head, “For what?”
“For this.” Bucky heard a twig snap behind him. Before he could turn and see his attacker, a hard metal surface hit the back of his head, knocking him out cold.
Chapter 9: every day the moon just sails away
Summary:
Interview with a vampire the Avengers
Notes:
Sorry for the long break between chapters, my childhood cat passed away and I had work and jury duty immediately after :( I’m doing good, though, don't worry. ANYWAY!
Welcome to your regularly scheduled yaoi angst. I love you Natasha Romanov.
Chapter Text
Clint awoke in a small, sterile cell. It was bright and burned his eyes when he opened them. He groaned as he sat up from laying on the small, uncomfortable bed. He clutched his head and stomach, the effects of being thrown into a tree really hitting him. He definitely had a concussion of some sort. He clutched his eyes close tightly, trying to block out the light. He rocked back and forth, attempting to not throw up from the pain.
“Clint,” A voice came over the intercom. He knew that voice. It was Bruce.
“Ah- hey,” He strained, “Turn the lights down maybe. I have a killer migraine.” After a few moments, he felt the lights dim. He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the room. Looking around, he noticed how barebones it was. One small bed on the wall, toilet in the corner, tiny sink. A prison cell. Surprisingly, however, the walls were a sleek white and there was a sturdy glass wall between him and Bruce and Thor. He did a double take when he saw them. “Hey…”
Bruce did not look happy. Thor looked, well, like Thor, really. Bruce pressed a few buttons and the door slid open. Thor attempted to stop him, but Bruce shook his hand away. Thor backed off. Clint backed himself to the wall as Bruce approached. “Hold on, Bruce, let’s talk-” He was cut off by a quick punch to the stomach. Clint doubled over quickly, a wave of nausea falling over him. Bruce began to yell.
“Let’s talk? How about you apologize? You killed a man and then ran away to Russia to chase down your brother! Do you know how stupid that was? I had to come up with twelve different cover stories for you, Clint! TWELVE! None of the other ones stuck! Tony was going on and on and on about how we needed to ‘combine saving face with not making him look bad’. I am the one reason Natasha didn’t start going berserk and the only thing stopping Tony from ripping apart your apartment for clues! We were worried sick, Clint! Do you know how many sleepless nights we’ve all had because we were looking for you?” Bruce leaned down to where Clint was attempting to not vomit, “You have to have a damn good reason because I am this close to breaking this wall down with your fucking face.” His voice morphed into something sinister at the end. Clint knew what it was.
He attempted to respond, “Okay, okay-” He coughed, getting dangerously close to spilling his lunch. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bruce. I never intended for any of that to happen. I panicked. I left without thinking.”
“Why didn’t you come back?” Bruce yelled.
Clint held his hands up in defense, “Why would I? I killed a man! Plus, I wanted to help my brother.” Clint took a second to catch his breath, “Turns out he didn’t even want that.”
Bruce took a step back, sighing, “And when did you find that out?”
“A few months ago,” He answered tentatively.
“A FEW-” A green vein popped out of Bruce’s neck. Thor stepped forward with a concerned look on his face. Bruce looked back for a second. He stopped and took a deep breath, calming himself, “A few months ago?! Why didn’t you come back then?”
“Because-” Clint made a desperate sound, “because of Bucky.”
Bruce furrowed his brows, seemingly surprised at the answer, “Bucky?” He slowly turned to Thor again, who shrugged. “What do you mean because of Bucky?”
Clint slowly rose to his feet, clutching his stomach, “He needed my help. I stayed because of him.”
“ He needed your help?” Thor asked. Bruce shushed him.
“Yeah, he did,” Clint added. “Hydra fucked him up. I helped him get some autonomy back.” He came to a sudden realization. Bucky would not like this. If the panic attack in the Hydra base was anything, this would definitely set him off again. “You better have not put Bucky in one of these. He’ll have a panic attack. It’s all stale and bright. He can’t handle places like that,” Clint became frantic. “Bruce, please, you have to listen to me. He will hurt himself.”
Clint’s sudden panic made Bruce immediately panic as well, “I hear you, Clint, I- Okay, uhm, I’ll see what I can do.” Bruce paused to run up to Thor, “Go find Steve. See if you can get him to a better room. We cannot have him turning violent. It will ruin the whole case.” Thor nodded seriously and rushed out of the room. Bruce turned back.
Clint sighed in relief, “Just keep an eye on him. Don’t chain him down or anything, it reminds him of Hydra and you do not want to do that. Trust me, I know from experience.”
Bruce stepped forward, “Could you tell me a bit more about your experience with him?” Clint gave him a dangerous look. He had no clue what Bruce’s stance on Bucky was. He loved Bruce, but not standing up for a man who was tortured, abused, and used by a nazi organization was a hard line that he would not let someone cross. “Please, Clint. I’m working with Steve to make sure Bucky gets a fair trial. We are gathering anything that could prove Bucky isn’t still controlled and is safe to be around.”
“Of course he’s safe, he adopted a damn cat!” Shit. Where was Alpine? “Hold on, where’s his cat? You searched the car, right? You grabbed Alpine?”
Bruce nodded quickly, “Oh, don’t worry, Nat is taking care of her.”
Clint became relieved again, “Thank god. Bucky would’ve killed me if anything happened to her.”
“So…” Bruce noted something on a pop-up screen emanating from his watch, “You said he adopted the cat- Alpine, correct?”
He nodded, moving to sit down on the bed. He was getting a little dizzy, “Yeah, he found her in an alley being beaten up by some kids.”
“So he saved Alpine from kids who were abusing her, correct?” Bruce added to his notes.
“Yup. Took her to the vet and had her looked at then brought her to the repair shop where he was getting his bike fixed and begged me to keep her. He bought all the supplies and food we needed for her himself and took the initiative to adopt her instead of leaving her at the shelter. If that doesn’t prove that he isn’t mind controlled, I don’t know what will.” Clint closed his eyes for a moment to let them rest.
Bruce nodded as he finished his writing, “It’s certainly a good start. Do you have any other information to share about Bucky that might be useful?” Clint was hesitant to answer. He knew a lot about Bucky. Probably more than most people. Maybe even more than Steve knew. No, that was overstating it, but he was probably top five on the list of people who knew the most about Bucky Barnes.
Clint started to relay instances in which he thought Bucky was particularly outstanding or nice. When they had met, Bucky had the chance to kill him and he didn’t. Instead, he agreed to work with Clint to take down Clint’s brother and Clint agreed to work with Bucky to take down a few Hydra bases. That was pretty nice for someone who used to be the Winter Soldier. Later down the line, when they moved in together, Bucky took the initiative to learn the names and favorite foods of their neighbors and attempt to bring them gifts over the holidays. He helped people with groceries and offered people rides. He even opened up to Clint after Clint revealed he was an Avenger- even if he couldn’t remember his past that well. Bucky had the capacity to trust. He had the capacity to love (Clint didn’t mention that part). If he was still mind controlled, then they must’ve mind controlled him to be really nice to everyone all the time.
Bruce typed out paraphrases of what Clint said, nodding as he did so, “This is all really good, Clint, thank you.” He closed the screen on his watch, opening a blank page. “Now…” Bruce’s tone shifted to nervous, “I… have a few questions about you.”
He sighed heavily. All of his previous joy from talking about Bucky slipped from his face. He laid down on the uncomfortable slab of a bed, “What about me?” It came out more hostile than he intended. Bruce furrowed his brows.
“Clint, you owe me an explanation. You owe everyone an explanation. The least you could do is tell me why you left in the first place.” Bruce sat on the slab next to him.
“I killed someone. You know that,” Clint covered his face. His head was killing him still. He really wanted some tylenol.
“Why did you kill him?” Bruce pressed.
“He was a tracksuit. One of the guys my brother controlled. I…” Clint squeezed his eyes shut tight. Just remembering made his migraine worse, “He showed up at my door one day. Barney. Tried to hug me. I had a panic attack. When I came to, he was gone and there was this airplane ticket on my table. My immediate thought was that Barney was being manipulated and had come to me for help. I started to track down members of the gang to get an idea of where he was.” Clint groaned in pain, “Jesus, do you have an Advil or something? My head is killing me.”
Wordlessly, Bruce offered him a bottle from his front pocket. Clint swallowed three dry, covering his eyes again. “Anyway. I finally got a good location to check from that… guy.” Clint remembered how the man’s flesh felt against his hands. “I was just going to leave him but he-” The sound of the screams haunted him. “He grabbed my leg and I panicked. I don’t know if it was the lack of sleep or the delirium that I could still save my brother, but I started punching him and just… didn’t stop.”
Clint had turned to his side, bunching himself up into a ball without realizing. He felt Bruce’s hand on his back. He patted the blonde softly. “All of that…” He sounded emotional, “I knew you were having a hard time, but-”
“Bruce, please don’t blame yourself,” Clint sat up quickly, wincing. He squinted at Bruce through the pain, “I was the one who let myself slip away.”
“No, Clint, you weren’t.” Bruce was sure of himself, “Me and Tony- we saw the signs. Steve saw the signs. Natasha saw the signs. She was the only one to-” His shoulders dropped. He looked at Clint with the most regret he had ever seen in a man, “We ignored them, Clint. We could’ve helped you.”
“No, you couldn’t have,” Clint looked at the wall. “I was going to get to my brother eventually. It was never a matter of if but when .” He slowly laid back down, “I wanted to help my brother. I was going to get what I wanted. Simple as that.”
There was a long pause. Too long in Clint’s opinion.
“Did you?” Bruce asked tentatively.
“Did I what?” Clint retorted.
“Get what you wanted?”
Clint played with his hands. Did he? Did he get what he wanted? He was currently in jail with no brother. All he wanted was his brother. Slowly, Clint spilled the truth. And this time Bruce listened.
——————
“Hello James,” A woman’s voice snapped Bucky out of his trance. He had been doing nothing but staring at the wall since he woke up. He hated his surroundings. They shoved him in a little box with a large sliding glass door. The lights were so bright that they hurt his eyes. He closed them, refusing to respond. “I know you can hear me in there.” Bucky knew the voice. Not well, but he recognized it. “I’m here to talk about Clint.” That piqued his interest.
Bucky was sitting and facing away from the glass, so he turned his head to the side to look at the woman. Ugh, he knew her alright, “Natasha.” He grumbled.
“Good to see you, too, Bucky.” She was standing on the other side of the doors.
“Could you turn off these lights, first? ” He complained. They dimmed in response. He was grateful, but he didn’t want to thank her. She was the one who had imprisoned him, after all.
“There. Now tell me what you know about Clint,” Natasha crossed her arms.
“That’s a little vague. I know a lot about him.” Bucky turned back towards the wall, staring into nothing.
“Do you know why he was in Russia?” She tapped a digital watch on her wrist, pulling a screen up.
Bucky furrowed his brows. Bucky remembered something Clint said about being friends with the Black Widow, “Why don’t you know why? Weren’t you two close?”
He could almost hear Natasha roll her eyes, “I’m just getting confirmation. I need your statement for the record, Bucky. If you tell me good things about Clint it will really help him in his trial.”
He sighed, “What do you want to hear? That he’s a good person? That he didn’t mean to kill that guy? That it’s haunted him since?” That Clint’s one of the only people he trusted currently? That Bucky was in love with him? That he showed Bucky what a healthy romantic relationship could look like? That he really wished Clint was here right now?
Natasha was quiet for a while. He could hear the soft beeping of letters being typed on a digital screen, “That’s certainly a start. Tell me about his behavior. Did he seem quick to anger or overly violent at all?”
“Not at all,” Bucky scoffed, “In fact, he’s too nice. Quick to trust. Hesitates to hurt someone. The most violent I’ve ever seen him was when we were killing Nazis. Even then, he waited for my signal to do anything.” Bucky turned his head again to make eye contact with Natasha, “I assume you know about the Hydra base?”
“I do,” She responded. She had almost no emotion in her voice. “Are you willing to go on record to state that Clint hasn’t shown any excessive violence against criminals since?”
“Sure, whatever gets him out,” Bucky sighed. He didn’t care what happened to him. He just wanted to get Clint out of here.
“Bucky, I need you to take this seriously. Your statements could make or break Clint’s case,” Natasha urged him.
“I am taking it seriously,” He finally turned to face her, standing up in the process. “I’ve spent half a year with the man and he is the one person I know without a doubt I can trust. If he doesn’t get out then…” Bucky shook his head, “What does that mean for me?” Something akin to confusion flashed across Natasha’s face. Bucky stepped up to the glass, “I am telling you; for someone in his position, Clint deserves to be at least ten times more violent than he is currently. What he did to that tracksuit was a misplacement of judgement and if he was in his right mind, like he is now, he would’ve never done that.”
Natasha slowly noted down the words, “This… works. Thank you, Bucky.”
“You’re welcome,” Bucky responded flatly.
She put away her screen. “Now, purely off-record-” Bucky perked up. Off record? What was she possibly going to ask him? “Did he ever… talk about me?”
“A few times.” Bucky answered, “It was always with this… regretful look.” Natasha looked at the floor, her face dark. “If you’re looking for comfort from me, you won’t get it, but…” She looked back up at him. “He told me he regretted never explaining anything to you. He said he would’ve left eventually, but if he could, he would’ve taken you with him.” Bucky wasn’t going to lie, he was a little jealous. He didn’t doubt Clint would do something similar for him, but Bucky didn’t really like Natasha due to their several previous violent encounters. He tolerated her. For Clint. If she was the one who could testify for Clint, he would do anything to keep her on board.
Natasha nodded to herself, “Good to know.” Bucky nodded back curtly. “I’ll… see you around, Bucky.” She turned to leave. Bucky felt the overwhelming urge to stop her.
In a moment of what Bucky brushed off as weakness, he called out, “Hold on-” She stopped and turned around, “How… How is Clint doing? Is he alright?”
She gave him that same confused look as before, “I haven’t seen him yet.” She blinked, “I’ll get someone to give you a status update.”
Bucky nodded in response, “Okay… thank you.”
Natasha looked at him for a moment, then nodded once and exited.
——————
Clint was awoken again by the sound of the door opening. The lights were still dimmed, thankfully, so his eyes didn’t hurt as bad when he sat up. The Advil also seemed to be doing its job. He blinked as Natasha came into view. Shit.
“Get up.” She commanded.
He did so slowly, hands up in defense, “Hey…” Natasha grabbed him by the collar, bringing him close.
“Hey?! You’re an asshole Barton. Do you know just how many hours I’ve spent tracking you down?” She shouted. Clint flinched.
“Please don’t punch me, Bruce already did,” He squeaked out.
Natasha pushed him back, turning to pace, “I’m not going to punch you,” She spat. “You’re a real piece of work. I had to pull out all the stops to find you. It was not easy.”
“I’m sorry,” Clint hung his head, staring at the floor with a pained expression.
“Damn right, you’re sorry. I was so worried about you. I thought someone had killed you or worse. Then you pop up raiding a Hydra base with the fucking Winter Soldier ?” Natasha waved her arms.
“He needed help, I helped him. He did the same for me,” Clint answered calmly, ignoring the use of Bucky’s least favorite name. He favored his life over correcting Natasha.
Natasha took a few deep breaths, “Why didn’t you take me with you?” Clint didn’t have an answer. “Why didn’t you let me help you?”
Clint shrugged and shook his head, “I don’t know, I just-” He looked around the room for his answer, “I felt… like I had to do this alone.”
“But you didn’t have to,” She pleaded. “We could’ve gone to your brother together .”
“I know,” He answered. “I was so focused on trying to save my brother that I didn’t think about how me leaving would affect you guys.” He looked up at her, “You especially, Natasha.” There was a long moment as they stared at each other, “I’m sorry. I mean it. I shouldn’t have ran off.”
Natasha didn’t seem as mad anymore, “No, you shouldn’t have.” She looked to the side. Clint could see tears in her eyes now. His guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. Slowly, he stepped forward, arms outstretched. Natasha stepped into him, wrapping him in a tight hug. She sobbed softly into his shoulder. She had her hair down, which was very rare, so he ran his fingers through it softly, “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” Clint squeezed her, happy to have his friend back. “I promise that from now on I will not run off without telling you first.” Natasha pulled back, a somewhat grumpy expression on her face, “Okay, fine. I won’t run off at all anymore.”
She cracked a grin and laughed, “That’s better.”
——————
About 20 minutes after Natasha left, someone else entered the room. Bucky had been pacing so much that it hurt his head to stop moving. He continued to do so, worried about everything. His future, Clint’s future, how many people that were out there with his code words, etc.
“Buck?” He heard Steve’s voice. Bucky paused, looking up with a terrified expression. Great. The exact man he hated thinking about.
“Don’t call me that,” Bucky turned away from him, continuing to pace.
“I’m sorry- I,” Steve stopped himself. He cleared his throat. “I’m here to talk.” Bucky rolled his eyes. Of course he was. It seemed all Steve wanted to do was talk. “I…” It seemed like he couldn’t find his words. Steve tried several times to come up with a sentence. Bucky ignored every attempt. Finally, he managed to say, “Your cat is cute,” He smiled awkwardly.
Bucky’s head shot up. He’d been worried sick about Alpine, “Is she okay?”
“Ah- yes!” Steve answered quickly, “She’s fine. Natasha took her in for the time being.” Bucky deflated at the thought of Natasha. He didn’t trust her. He loved that damn cat and if anything happened to her, Bucky would never forgive himself.
“What’s… her name?” Steve asked.
Bucky glared at him, then sighed, “Alpine.”
The other seemed to relax in relief, “That’s cute. Like the trees?”
Bucky went back to ignoring him.
“Bucky… I know you don’t remember me well-”
“I remember you.” Bucky turned his back to Steve, hugging himself.
“... you do?” Steve seemed shocked.
“I remember everything,” Bucky’s voice broke. He felt pathetic.
There was a pause before he spoke, “Clint told us you couldn’t remember me as well as you wanted to… is that true?”
Bucky was a little mad at Clint for saying that, but he couldn’t blame him. If he was trying to make him look like a better person, he would take all the help he could get. However, he hadn’t exactly given Clint all of the information, “I lied to him.” Bucky admitted. He felt horrible for doing it, but he didn’t even know what he was supposed to say. Could you blame him? “Within the first two weeks of escaping, I found out exactly who I was. I killed twenty-six Hydra Agents to get there.” He turned back to Steve, “I remember everything .”
Steve looked… sympathetic. Bucky didn’t like it. Then again, anything that Steve did he didn’t like. It was too soft. Too welcoming. Too… familiar. “What… What do you remember?” Bucky knew this was coming. He sighed and lowered himself to the floor, sitting criss-cross on the floor and fidgeting with his hands.
“You used to put newspaper and wooden wedges in your shoes so that you looked taller. You thought it’d make girls like you more. You tried to fool Andy at the corner store once, but he saw right through,” Bucky barked a dry laugh, “He made you take off your shoes in front of this girl you liked- Judith, I think her name was. I don’t really care. I was always more focused on Andy and you knew that.” He took a deep breath. “Sarah, your mother. She would take us in and make us lemonade. Always the first to know a secret and the last to tell. You were the only two people in the world I ever told…” Bucky didn’t have to complete his sentence, Steve knew what he meant.
“The bus would always miss our stop so we had to race down to the next one at the crack of dawn. I would let you win sometimes but you were still butthurt about it.” Bucky turned his head to glance at Steve out of the corner of his eyes. Steve was standing there with one hand on the glass. Bucky sighed again and turned away, “You covered for me so often with the commandos.” He could hear Steve step forward, “Always spouting something about how sociable I was and how easy I made ‘friends’,” he used air quotes, “I never told you, but I always appreciated it.”
There was a long silence. Bucky could hear a gradual ringing in his ears, “Is that enough? Do you believe me now?” A click sounded from the door. Bucky tensed and turned his head. The sliding door had opened. Steve stood on the other side, not moving.
“Can I come in?” He asked tentatively.
“I don’t care what you do,” Bucky retorted. That was a lie. He did care. He cared a lot. The secret part of his mind was telling him to run to Steve like he had done so many times before. Like a little kid seeking the comfort of his big brother.
Steve stepped into the room slowly, steadily approaching Bucky. The other didn’t move. Steve sat in front of Bucky, crossing his legs as well. Bucky pulled his legs up to his chest in response. “I believe you, Bucky.”
Bucky refused to look at him. “Why are you really here?” He whispered.
“Because I wanted to see you before all of the… formalities started. I know Natasha already came in to ask about Clint. I told her not to, but she got here before I could,” Steve played with the bracelets and watch on his wrists. Bucky recognized a few. Apparently, he’d managed to save an old ‘friendship bracelet’ Bucky had made from embroidery thread he found lying around.
“She said she would tell someone to update me about Clint,” Bucky changed the subject. He would love to talk about Clint again.
“Oh- yeah,” Steve straightened up, “I spoke to Doctor Banner and he said Clint was alright. He has a concussion, but he is resting now. I think he is, at least. Natasha went in to talk to him awhile back.”
A wave of worry washed over Bucky. God knows what Natasha was saying or doing to Clint. He remembered Clint had mentioned something about everyone being angry with him. He really wished he could be there, “Can I see him?”
Steve gave him a pitiful look, “I’m sorry, Bucky, I can’t.” He perked up again, “But I can get you moved to a more comfortable room. Clint said you would have a hard time with rooms like this.”
Bucky furrowed his brows, finally looking up at Steve, “He said that?” He was touched that Clint was thinking of him.
“Well, he said that it would remind you off,” Steve hesitated, “y’know…” He waved one hand around. Bucky did know. He meant Hydra. The room would remind him of his cell. Clint wasn’t wrong, but after his panic attack at the base, he had learned a few grounding techniques.
“I can handle my own flashbacks,” Bucky started, “But I wouldn’t mind a less…” He glanced around, “bleak atmosphere.”
Steve nodded, “I can bring you to one of the spare rooms in the tower,” his excited face fell a little, “but, you would have to be handcuffed and fitted with a power damper.”
Bucky did not like the idea of that, “No. No handcuffs. No masks or whatever that second thing is.” He tensed his shoulders, glaring at Steve. The other man held his hands up in defense.
“Alright! No cuffs, no collar, you got it. You would have to stay here, though,” Steve frowned.
“Fine by me,” Bucky grumbled. “When can I see Clint?” Steve was quiet for a while. Bucky didn’t like that either, “I will be able to see him eventually, right?”
Steve hesitated, “It… may be awhile.”
“How long?” Bucky responded quickly.
“Bucky, you have to understand, the government considers both of you criminals-” Steve tried to explain.
“How long, Steve?” It was the first time Bucky had called him by his name in a very long time. Steve processed this for a moment.
“It could be a few days or it could be a few weeks,” He sighed. A few weeks ? They had spent the past few months at each other's side. Bucky was so attached that he couldn’t imagine being alone without him for a few hours- let alone a few weeks. Once, Clint had gone on an overnight drive after a large tracksuit shipment and Bucky panicked so bad he followed him after two hours. Clint wasn’t happy, but Bucky just helped him and they went home together.
Bucky shook his head, “No, that won’t work. I want to see him.”
Steve sighed again, “Bucky, you know I can’t-”
“Why not?” He glared at Steve.
“Listen, Bucky, letting the two of you talk could compromise the cases we are trying to make for you.” Steve explained. Bucky shifted, moving to stand. He returned to pacing. Steve stood up after him. “After your trials, if everything goes well, you two can see each other again.”
“After the trials?” Bucky repeated to himself quietly. He sounded desperate, “No, no, no I need to see him now .” He scratched at the plates on his left arm. A nervous habit.
“I can’t.” Steve said, more firm now.
“I have to.” He sounded crazy. He knew he did. He felt crazy. He felt unsafe.
Steve looked like he was trying to come up with another reason, but all he could do was open and close his mouth. “Okay.” Bucky looked at him. “Okay, I’ll get Clint, but-” Steve gave Bucky a serious look, “This could seriously mess things up. You have to understand that all I want is for you to be pardoned.”
Bucky didn’t like how Steve phrased that, but he didn’t say anything. He was getting what he wanted. He shouldn’t ruin it by being mean. “Thank you,” He stopped pacing to look Steve in the eyes. Steve smiled back.
——————
Clint and Natasha were sitting against the wall, talking and catching up.
“Since when are you so well versed in lawyer jargon?” Clint asked.
“I know a really good lawyer out in Jersey,” She responded.
Steve barged in suddenly. He stopped in his tracks. The two stared at Steve for a moment.
“Can we help you?” Clint joked.
Steve shook himself out of his trance, “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to be here, Nat.”
Nat gave him a look, “I told you I was going to talk to him.”
“Right, sorry. I was uhm,” He took a breath, “Focused on other things.” Clint knew it was Bucky he was focused on.
“What do you need, Cap?” Clint stood, followed by Natasha.
“Not me,” Steve looked between the two, “Bucky.”
——————
There was a knock at the door. Bucky wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t open the damn thing anyway. Steve entered, then Natasha, then Clint. Bucky stood up from his spot on the floor. The door was unlocked again. Clint dashed in. Bucky met him halfway. The two met in a strong embrace as Bucky practically jumped on him.
Clint laughed in relief into Bucky’s shoulder, “Thank god you’re okay. I know you don’t like rooms like this so I tried to get you switched-”
“I know, Steve told me,” Bucky cracked a small smile for the first time since he arrived, “Thank you, by the way. It was very thoughtful.”
Natasha stepped behind them, “Alright, as sweet as this is, we cannot have you guys both in here for long. Someone will notice.” She didn’t sound malicious, like how Bucky had expected. She sounded concerned. He let go of Clint reluctantly.
“Right…” Bucky deflated a bit. They wanted to talk again. Bucky was really starting to hate talking.
“I know you don’t want to, but hopefully talking will get us out of here faster,” Clint spoke, then signed, ‘I will be here for you’. Bucky understood. He only knew a few ASL phrases and that was one of them. It meant the world to Bucky that Clint was kind enough to teach him a language most others didn’t understand. It felt intimate. He loved it. Bucky nodded in response.
“Thank you, Clint.” Steve acknowledged him quietly. Clint nodded in response. He seemed almost as reluctant as Bucky to speak to Steve. “Alright Bucky, we just need to ask you a few questions then we’ll leave. Unfortunately, we’ll also have to take Clint, but I’ll see what I can do so you two can see each other again, alright?”
Bucky sat in the middle of the room again. The rest joined him on the floor. Clint sat right next to him and Natasha and Steve sat opposite. He sat a little taller. He was more comfortable with Clint next to him. The idea of being face to face with the reminder of a life he once had didn’t seem as fear-inducing, “Okay, what do you need to know?”
Chapter 10: the moon and sun are the keepers of the weather
Summary:
Resolution :) Lotta chapter breaks in this one
Notes:
life threw 17 curveballs and each hit me in the dick but here's chapter 10
Did you guys see that the pre-order for Jurassic World Evolution 3 (THE DELUXE EDITION, mind you) is $74.99?! THAT’S AFFORDABLE!! HOLY SHIT!! I love dinosaurs.
I put Matt and Foggy in this one :P not sure if I wrote them right cause I don’t know them as well, but whatevs.
Also my stupid laptop decided to black screen of death me so I had to do a total reset. I am forever grateful that this chapter was saved.
Chapter Text
Two days had passed between being captured and the trial start date. During those two days, Clint and Bucky had seen each other for about an hour each day. Never alone. It was driving Clint crazy. He could see the deterioration of Bucky’s mental state. He had heavy eyebags and was thinning out. He wasn’t eating or sleeping. At least not regularly, from what Clint could see. His voice would be hoarse and his face and eyes would be red whenever Clint was brought over. He was definitely crying.
Clint would always ask Steve about him whenever he came to visit. Steve would relay minimal information, but it was always something along the lines of ‘he’s standoffish, but willing to work with us’. Clint wanted to tell him that it was because he wasn’t who Bucky wanted to talk to, but he knew there really wasn’t anything Steve could do without angering the government- or worse, Tony.
Tony had come to see Clint a few times. He was courteous each time, expressing his frustration with Clint for leaving, but never outright bashing him for it. It was unlike him. Clint wasn’t sure if he was actually angry at him or if he was just angry at the world. Clint leaned towards the second option.
The third day moved very quickly. Tony woke him up at the crack of dawn, knocking at the wall above his head. Clint blinked slowly, sitting up. “Rise and shine, beautiful. We’re getting married.”
Clint didn’t even question it. Banter like this was usually how they communicated, “Can’t wait for the divorce.”
“Me too, Clint, me too,” Tony had a fresh pressed suit over his arm. “Let’s go. You need a shower, you smell like shit.” He began walking towards the door. Clint stood up and followed
“Wait, where are we going?” He questioned, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Courthouse. Your trial is today.”
——————
Clint had never really been in a courthouse before. His status as an Avenger made it pretty easy to get out of Jury Duty with the whole ‘I need to be on-call to defend earth from forces that threaten humanity’ excuse. It was very bleak. Very white. Blindingly white, actually. Clint didn’t get to see Bucky that day. It was the longest day of his life. He’d seen a lot of lawyer shows and none of them mentioned that court rooms were so boring in real life. It was a lot of standing up and sitting down and waiting . By god, there was so much waiting . You had to wait for them to pick a jury then wait for the parties to talk with the Judge then wait for the parties to present their cases then wait for the Jury to make a decision. Did the jury make a decision? No? Restart from step two. It took up until about 3 PM just to pick a jury that was unbiased enough to make a decision about his case.
Throughout the whole process, he couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. He was worried. They hadn’t been apart this long in 6 months. Bucky wasn’t doing good already, so a full 24 hours without each other could do irreparable damage to him. Hell, it would hurt both of them. Clint was starting to lose sleep as well, worried about what the process must be like for Bucky. If it was this hard to work with Clint’s case, it must be ten times worse on his end. He felt a horrible anxiety as the minutes ticked by. He found himself missing important details and forgetting to stand when asked. The judge scowled at him. He needed to get a grip. If he got through this, he could see Bucky again. At least, he thinks that's what will happen. He hopes that's what will happen. He would have to ask Steve later if he could get a status update on Bucky.
All of the L.A. courts close at 4:30, so they were all working up till the last minute to decide on a jury. When Clint was finally dismissed for the day, he and the lawyer he was set up with (a young man by the name of Foggy Nelson) had slipped off to a side room to chat. It was all formality stuff- getting to know each other, giving Foggy his side of the story, lots and lots of somewhat invasive questions, classic lawyer things.
“So you managed to track him down and confront him. He didn’t want your help, so… then what?” Foggy looked up from his notepad. He used paper notes, which was odd to Clint, but he didn’t really care. A lawyer was a lawyer and Foggy seemed pretty good.
“Well, I continued tracking down tracksuit hotspots and shutting down their operations. When I wasn’t doing that, I was helping Bucky clear out Hydra bases.” Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
Foggy nodded, “Alright. And if you don’t mind me asking, what is your relationship to Bucky? Is it more friendly or more coworker-esque?”
Clint looked away. He couldn’t just say he was in a relationship with him, but he couldn’t exactly lie, either. If he said they were just friends and it came out the next day that they were making out then it wouldn’t be good for him, “We’re close. It’s complicated.”
“I need more than that, Clint.” Foggy egged him on.
“Look,” Clint rubbed his forehead with one hand, “It is not easy to explain. We know a lot about each other and we genuinely care for each other. We are… close friends.”
Foggy didn’t seem convinced, but wrote it down anyway, “As long as you and Bucky can back that statement, I don't care what you call yourselves. I trust that you’re both on the same page?”
Clint nodded, shrugging, “More or less, yeah.” Foggy gave him a look like he was going to kill him. Clint should really stop being a douche to his lawyer.
——————
They hadn’t seen each other that first day of court. Or the day after. Bucky was starting to lose his grip on reality. He was surrounded by people he either didn’t know or didn’t want to talk to. He started to feel like he was just being tossed from room to room and told to talk. It reminded him of the early days with Hydra. They constantly moved him around, disorienting him and grilling him for information. They tortured him when they didn’t get what they wanted.
Like clockwork, the third day was when he broke. He hadn’t slept the night before, instead scratching at his right arm until it bled. He spent the whole night shaking and staring at the wall. His eyes watered because of how little he blinked. He remembers crying, but couldn’t for the life of him remember what for. When Steve came for him in the morning, he was greeted with the sight of Bucky hunched in the corner covered in blood and rocking back and forth.
“Bucky!” He opened the door and ran in, dropping beside him. Steve didn’t hesitate to pull him into a hug, tearing his metal hand away from his arm. Bucky would normally shrink away at touch, but he let Steve hold him. He didn’t know why. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Bucky couldn’t articulate what he was feeling. He moved to grip Steve’s shoulders, heaving a sob. He could feel himself breaking emotionally. He was done. He couldn’t do it anymore. He wanted things to go back to normal. Whatever normal was.
“Buck, I need you to tell me what happened. I want to help you,” Steve spoke quietly. Gently. It was so refreshing that Bucky didn’t even care that he called him Buck.
“I’m tired,” He croaked out, “This is too much. Too much movement.” He struggled to explain what he was thinking.
“Too much moving? As in going from here to the courts?” Steve attempted to understand.
Bucky swallowed, throat dry, “They used to move me. Ask me questions.” He tightened his grip on Steve’s shoulders.
Steve started to understand, nodding slowly, “They moved you.” He repeated, “and we’re bringing you back and forth. And grilling you for answers.” Steve closed his eyes in realization, guilt clear on his face. “Shit.” He held Bucky a little tighter.
They didn’t talk for a long time. Bucky didn’t want to and Steve didn’t have anything else to say. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated the silence or not, but having a moment to focus on something as steady as Steve’s heartbeat was calming.
“How much longer?” Bucky croaked out.
Steve took a deep breath, “I’m… not sure. We’re definitely getting somewhere, though. The jury seems to sympathize with you in the same way they did with me and Natasha during our trials, but it’s a little more difficult considering it wasn’t the States that decided to brainwash you.” He didn’t sound happy about the last part. Bucky wasn’t happy either, but he could understand their hesitation. He had probably killed some of the people they really liked.
“How’s Clint’s trial going?” Bucky finally pulled away from Steve. The awkward position was hurting his back.
“It’s going… well.” Steve hesitated. Bucky looked up at him, concerned. He quickly raised his hands to explain, “Sorry, that sounded bad. It is going well, just… not as well as it could be. People have a little less sympathy for him since he wasn’t exactly forced to… do what he did.”
Bucky didn’t like that explanation. There seemed to be a lot of things about people in the ‘new world’ that he didn’t like. Lack of empathy was one. He shook his head in disapproval, “If his trial finishes before mine, would he be able to come and see me?”
Steve looked away to think for a second, “Actually, that’s a good question.” He pulled out his phone, “I’ll ask Matt. He could probably tell us.”
Matt Murdock was Bucky’s lawyer as of right now. Apparently, Matt’s best friend was Clint’s lawyer. While the two can’t share case information, Matt kept Bucky updated on the standings on whether or not Clint had been pardoned yet and vice versa. He also kept Steve in the loop since he was technically part of both trials. Steve sent off a text, then turned back to Bucky.
“I’m sure there’s a way we can bring you two together again. Trust me, I am doing whatever I can to make sure you- and Clint, for that matter- stay as comfortable as I can possibly provide, but you have to understand; if we don’t get you two through these trials…” Steve trailed off. Bucky could tell he didn’t want to lay the harsh reality on him. If they don’t get pardoned, there’s a chance they’ll never see each other.
Bucky scrunched his nose in a sudden protective anger. He finally had the one thing he never thought he’d get and it was going to be ripped away from him due to something he couldn’t control. There started a pulling feeling in his chest. It felt like someone had replaced his heart with a black hole. Is this what it felt like to die?
“Buck, can I ask you a question?” Bucky looked at Steve again, “I know questions are a little sensitive for you right now and you have full autonomy to not answer me- honestly, I would be surprised if you did because it’s pretty personal- but not personal as in invasive but just- okay maybe a little invasive, but nothing super pushy!” He rambled on.
“Spit it out, Rogers,” Bucky felt like shit but he wasn’t above being just a little mean to Steve as a joke. Steve composed himself.
“Are you and Clint… close?” Bucky squinted at the blonde.
“What do you mean by close?” He asked.
“I mean- are you two… close ?” Steve made a face as if he was trying to convey a mental message.
Bucky knew exactly what Steve meant by ‘close’, but he didn’t really want to give that answer, so he decided to have fun for once in a long time, “You just repeated the same word in a different tone, Steve. I need details.”
Steve struggled to articulate his words, “Are you two… friends or…?”
“It’d be weird if we weren’t, Steve, we lived together for six months.” Bucky laughed softly.
“Okay, but friends or friends ?” Steve emphasized his point with his hands.
“You’ve lost me,” Bucky shook his head.
Steve sighed, “I don't know how to articulate this without being rude. I’m sorry.”
“Being rude? What do you mean being rude?” Bucky cocked his head.
“As in being crass or forward.” Steve sighed, “Are you…” He prepared himself, “Bucky, do you still feel the way you did back then? About relationships?”
Bucky blinked at the floor. He was done toying with Steve. Things had gotten serious. “I…” The answer was yes, but he still hesitated, “Yes, I do.”
Steve nodded in understanding, “I guess my real question is; how are those feelings around Clint?”
“Steve-” Bucky shook his head, closing his eyes briefly.
“Sorry, sorry- you don’t need to tell me when I’ve crossed some boundary. I know when to back off.” Steve held his hands up in surrender, leaning back a bit.
“No, Steve-” Bucky looked back at him.
“Don’t worry, Bucky. I will not tell a soul about how you feel until you’re ready. And, if you do find someone, I’d love to meet him,” Steve moved to stand up.
“Steve.” Bucky gave him an annoyed look. Steve stopped himself. “Clint and I are… close.” He finished with an awkward nod.
Steve processed the answer, squinting. Slowly, he nodded. “I will… keep that in mind.”
——————
Another two days passed without the two seeing each other. Bucky was completely drained. He would speak short sentences if he spoke at all and had a blank, thousand-yard stare almost 24/7. The good news was he was eating. Steve made it his mission to make sure he never ate alone and to bring him food he actually liked. He had even introduced Bucky to Sam- the man he knew as Falcon- in an attempt to make both of them a little more comfortable with each other. Sam wasn’t very inclined to meet Bucky considering Bucky had ripped his mechanical wings off, but the two had somewhat reconciled within a few hours.
Sam was a therapist that specialized with veterans. He used what he liked to call ‘feather therapy’ where he brings in birds for people to hold and interact with. Sam hadn’t brought any that time, but when Bucky expressed interest, he promised to bring his bird Redwing so they could meet. The man rambled on about his sanctuary and his apprentice Joaquin. Apparently, he was training Joaquin to take up the Falcon mantle if the time arose to do so. Bucky found it oddly familiar.
Natasha had also visited and brought a special visitor- Alpine. Bucky nearly cried when he saw her. She bounded up to him and screamed at him in her little kitten voice as if to say ‘where were you?’ Bucky hadn’t realized how much he missed her. He spent at least an hour and a half with her before another day of his trial started, playing with and doting over her. Natasha had to take her back after his time was up, but she promised she would bring her again so Bucky could be with her. He thanked her and she left. He had a long day ahead of him.
——————
Clint’s trial didn’t last as long as he thought it would. Most of the case presentations were direct and forward, leaving no room for question. The jury attempted to come to a verdict multiple times, but somehow always ended up with indecision. Finally, however, on the fifth day in a row of 7 AM to 4 PM trials, they came to a decision. While Clint was definitely guilty of killing that man, he was in a very deranged and low mental state. Also, he had shown significant mental growth over the course of the year and a half he was gone. Now, he still had a punishment, but Bruce and Foggy, the kind souls they are, came up with a beautiful plan that involved Clint being temporarily stripped of ‘heroism’ rights for the next 3 years; it meant that Clint was no longer allowed to pursue his own leads such as taking down the tracksuits. In fact, the only time he was allowed to hold his bow or sword was if it was with supervision or if there was an Avenger’s level threat like an alien invasion. He also had to ‘help out’ Bruce at the tower- whatever that meant- as well as be placed as a ‘teacher’ of sorts in a new apprenticeship program Tony had set up. Despite it sounding like torture, Clint would take that over federal prison any day.
Stepping out of the courtroom felt like resurfacing in a pool. He could breathe again. He could think again. Natasaha met him outside, dressed in a nice pantsuit. She had her arms outstretched as soon as she saw him, “Clint!” She laughed and pulled him in for a tight hug. He returned fire just as happily. “I’m glad you’re out.”
“I am, too,” Clint sighed. They pulled back from each other.
She took a breath and set her hands on her hips, “Well, with that verdict you won’t be running off anytime soon. Not if I can help it.”
Clint laughed and shook his head, “Could you ever forgive me?”
“Oh, I already have, but I’m still pissed,” She gave him a stern but amused look.
Their laughter died down for a second. Clint took a moment to collect himself. This wasn’t over. It would be a long time before things went back to normal. “How is Bucky? Do we know if his trial is ending soon?”
Natasha seemed hesitant to talk. It scared him. “The trial is going good for the severity of his case. I’m not sure when it will end but if yours ended this quickly, I won’t be surprised if Bucky’s followed soon after.” She crossed her arms. She seemed concerned, “Not even our trials lasted this long.”
Clint looked at the floor. “Since I’m done, is there a way I can see him?”
She took a second to ponder, “Maybe? I can ask Steve. He’s the one mainly looking over Bucky’s trial.”
Clint nodded, “Yes, please. I want to make sure he’s alright.” Clint had been worried so badly over the last two days of the five-day period of no Bucky that he had thrown up about 3 times. He could barely keep down food.
Natasha clasped a hand on his shoulder, leading him away from the courtroom and out of the building. The drive back to the tower was relatively quiet, like how it always was. Natasha was working something out on her laptop and Clint was staring out the window. He was overthinking again and he knew it. He kept coming back to the idea of Bucky stuck in a prison cell, being carted back and forth like a show pony. He’d seen a few photos on Natasha’s phone of the articles coming out about Bucky’s trials. The pictures the press took depicted him as if he were some malevolent and dangerous criminal when he was just a man who had no choice. He bounced his leg with anxiety.
“What are you thinking about?” Natasha asked without looking up from her computer. He turned towards her.
He spoke without thinking, as per usual, “Bucky.” Jesus, he was a lovesick fool. How many people in the world would be thinking about their boyfriend after being pardoned for killing a man?
Natasha huffed as if she was amused, “You always said you fell in love quickly, but I didn’t think it would happen that quick.” Clint froze. She didn’t even look at him when she said it. How the hell did she figure it out?
“What do you mean?” He asked, attempting to act aloof.
She finally looked at him, “You’re in love with Bucky, Clint. I can tell.” She turned her head back down. “Pretty sure anyone who’s talked to you for more than five minutes could figure that out.”
“No, I-” Clint didn’t want to deny it. It didn’t feel right, “It’s not a big deal.” His face flushed red.
“Mhm,” She played along sarcastically, “And how does Bucky feel about that?”
He took a long pause, staring out the window awkwardly. He could deny they were in a relationship. Was that what Bucky wanted? To be honest, he didn’t really want people in his dating business anyway. Natasha was different, though. They told each other everything. Would Bucky mind?
“You did tell him, right?” She inquired further, pausing her typing.
“Eh,” Clint made a ‘maybe’ motion with his hands, “I didn’t not tell him.”
She side-eyed him, “What?”
“Look, can we wait to talk about this? I don’t really want to get into this right now,” He waved his hand to brush the idea off.
Natasha grumbled, but agreed, “This isn’t over.”
——————
Clint took a deep breath in front of the door to Bucky’s cell. Natasha had successfully confirmed that Clint could in fact see Bucky without fear of legal repercussion as long as it was while Bucky was in his cell. Clint could live with that. It wasn’t ideal, but he could make it work.
He looked down at the little plastic carrier in his hands. It was Alpine. The kitten was ecstatic to see him and according to Natasha, she had a similar reaction to Bucky. He was hoping that all three of them could spend at least a little bit of time together.
The blonde opened the door, stepping into a dimmed room almost identical to his. At least they had turned the lights down. He set Alpine’s carrier down on a nearby table gently, peering into the glass. Bucky was resting on his bed, hunched into the corner. There was dried blood on the floor and a bandage wrapped around Bucky’s right arm. He could see it peeking out from the grey long sleeve shirt they had given him. Despite the casual clothes, Bucky looked as uncomfortable as ever. Clint couldn’t wait to fix that.
Clint opened the door, “Buck?” He wasn’t sure how Bucky would react after the few days of him being gone. Bucky lifted his head groggily, then sat up. He jumped out of bed, sprinting to him and jumping into his arms. Hugging him again felt like a warm ray of sunlight in the dead of winter. He could feel himself tearing up at the feeling.
He sighed into Bucky’s shoulders. He’d been holding it in for awhile. Bucky spoke softly, his raspy voice barely above a murmur, “I missed you.”
Clint pressed a kiss to the side of Bucky’s head, “I missed you, too,” He clutched Bucky a little tighter. He could feel a few ridges of Bucky’s spine. “My trial is done. I can see you again.”
Bucky’s hands dug into Clint’s nice shirt, “Thank god. I thought I would go crazy before I could see you again.” Clint hadn’t changed out of his courthouse suit, only opting to take off his jacket and tie before entering. He pulled his hands up to hold Bucky’s cheeks, peppering every square inch of his face with kisses.
“Don’t go crazy yet, we have to get out of this together.” Clint mumbled in between pecks. Bucky was clearly struggling not to smile as Cint continued.
“Okay, I get it,” He blocked Clint’s mouth with his hand, pressing a kiss to his lips through his fingers, “I’m happy, too.” Alpine’s meows caught Bucky’s attention, “And you brought Alpine?” Bucky let Clint’s shoulder’s go, slipping their hands together instead. He pulled Clint along to the carrier. Bucky removed the cat carefully, pulling her into his chest. “Hello, little baby.” He cooed.
Clint leaned in and booped her tiny nose as she yowled at Bucky. Clint wasn’t well educated on animals- cats specifically- but she definitely missed him. She sunk her tiny claws into the front of Bucky’s shirt to climb up and meow in his face. He pressed several kisses to her head, scratching behind her ears, “I’ve never seen a cat love someone so much.”
Bucky smiled. Clint missed his smile. “She’s definitely attached to me.” He laughed, “I say that as if I'm not attached to her.”
“Well, you saved her so I wouldn’t say either of you are wrong for that,” Clint leaned backwards on the table.
“She saved me, ” Bucky let her climb onto his shoulder, “which is very cheesy to say, but it’s not wrong.” Clint was never one to stare- that was more Bucky’s thing- but he really couldn’t help himself. They hadn’t seen each other in days. He’d spent his entire trial struggling to comprehend the legal system and worrying about what Bucky could possibly be experiencing. He needed to find a way to remedy the time lost.
“When we get out, I’m gonna get you something. I don’t know what but it’s going to be significant. Like a promise ring or some sort of… thing you’ll be able to wear or have that reminds you of me,” Clint started.
“You don’t have to do that, sweetheart-” Bucky attempted to shut him down.
Clint continued on, “No, I want to do this. I want to get you something that reminds you that I’m here for you.” He gave Bucky a sincere look, “I want you to always remember that you’re not alone. I’m in your corner, Buck.” Clint didn’t mention the real reason. He wanted to get Bucky something that reminded him of Clint in case something went wrong and Bucky lost his memories again. Having something of significance would hopefully bring him back.
Bucky removed the cat off his shoulder, letting her loose on the table. “That’s… sweet of you,” He shook his head, “sorry, I have no clue how to act when people are nice to me.”
The two laughed. They spent at least two hours together, just talking and hugging and kissing and occasionally crying. It was two hours well spent to Clint.
——————
Apparently, the judge had been informed about Bucky’s attachment to Clint and how being around him significantly improved his mental and physical health, so she had decided that basing Bucky’s punishment around Clint’s was the best way to handle the situation. He had the same plan that Clint did with the addition of the deconditioning plan the Intergalactic Empire of Wakanda (which was a whole nother bag of worms that Bucky was eager to learn more about) had set up for Steve and Natasha a few years ago. He was also not allowed to live more than ten miles from the tower until a court ordered therapist said he was ready to. To Bucky, this was the best possible outcome. He’d get to spend most of his time with Clint again and get rid of his programming at the same time. That is if they could live together again. The court order said nothing about that.
They were in a large meeting room now high up in Avengers tower. Not many people came up here except for high-ranking shield personnel like Nick Fury or Coulson or Maria -and of course the Avengers themselves. They were awaiting the arrival of one Tony Stark, who Clint said was always fashionably late. Bucky was tense. Their future was still in the hands of Stark and the government. The government didn’t really like him and Tony definitely didn’t like him. He was sure this wasn’t going to go well.
Looking over at Clint, he seemed a little more laid back. Bucky could guess why. Tony was his friend. Or at least he used to be. Bucky wasn’t sure where they stood now. “Do you think I should ask for my old suit back or would that be going too far?” He leaned over in his chair and whispered to Bucky.
The comment brought him out of his thoughts and he laughed, “What?” He took a moment to process. “Oh,” He said as he remembered the suit, “ Oh ,” He began to really remember the suit. “Yes, absolutely. Ask for it.”
Clint shook his head and laughed, but stopped abruptly when Tony opened the door. He was alone, which was unusual. Clint had briefed him on Tony earlier and usually he had Rhodey or Pepper or Bruce by his side. But it was just him. Peculiar.
“Alright, let’s get this done quickly, I have a dinner to attend,” Tony grumbled. He pulled up a holographic screen from the table. Bucky wasn’t even sure how that was possible. “I’m here to set you guys up with housing, so don’t ask about that apprenticeship program. We’re still in the process of getting your apprentices, so we won’t be starting that for a while.” He tapped away at the screen. He was moving so fast that Bucky couldn’t even comprehend what he was doing.
“Alrighty,” Clint leaned on the table. “What do you have in store for us?”
Tony straightened up and cleared his throat. He closed the screens and rounded the table to Clint’s side, “I just built some new apartments near the tower and need a landlord to run it,” Tony held out a large keyring. Clint stood and slowly took them, “I’ll handle all the money stuff, you just need to be there for the tenants.”
“Is this payback for missing all those PR meetings?” Clint looked at the keys. There had to be at least twenty of them.
“Oh, absolutely,” Tony nodded. “You two will be the first to move in. You’re on the first floor. Since you two have already lived together I’m sure it won’t be much of an adjustment. It’ll be about a week before anyone else shows up. I’ll be sending a truck with some furniture and your things from your old apartment.” He began to turn away.
“Thank you, Tony,” Clint spoke sincerely.
Tony shook his head, “Seriously, don’t mention it.” He shifted his gaze to Bucky. Bucky could tell he was holding back some choice words. “You two better do me good. I’ll be sending a truck down with your things tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and left. Clint turned around to Bucky after a moment.
Clint shrugged, “I guess we get a new apartment”
Chapter 11: i don’t know what i’d do without you
Summary:
Fluff :) These last 2 are gonna be Bucky :D
IF YOU READ THIS BEFORE I FIXED THIS CHAP NO YOU DIDNT (sorry guys)
Notes:
Sorry long gap AGAIN I’m crunching work and Art Fight refs (User: SirPurpleBerry)
I actually wanted to keep this at 11 chapters because I wanted the fic to briefly say 9/11 but silly me needs a smut chapter. Anyway that's coming up next so get ready I guess.
Also I am getting torn APARt by mosquitos btw it’s horrible in socal rn
Here’s a message from Vincent: ////////////////////8[0\u59iii4j.;u5vk55-jjj9i;io
Chapter Text
Everything seemed to be moving so fast. One day Bucky was stuck in a white cell and scratching the skin off his arm, the next he was moving into a new apartment with his silly little boyfriend. Tony had sent a truck, alright. A fucking huge one filled with new beds and couches and appliances and electronics. The apartment itself was astonishing. White walls, marble countertops, stainless steel sinks, two bedrooms with a bathroom each. Bucky had never seen such luxury before. He took a long moment to look around, confused at what they would even do with all the space.
Clint had immediately started unpacking. The man was eager to relax and he couldn’t do so if he had nothing to relax on. He took down the easy stuff like a few boxes of things from his own place. He set them in the kitchen for the time being as Bucky sat on the floor and let out Alpine. She had been cooped up all morning. She timidly exited, sticking close to Bucky as Clint hauled things around.
“Do you need any help? I can leave Alpine in a little area to explore,” Bucky turned to ask him. Clint grunted as he set down a third box.
“Oh, no, most of this shit is clothes or legos. If you wanna help with the furniture, though, I wouldn't mind.” Clint dusted off his hands. He was in a t-shirt and cargo shorts with some beat up old converse. Casual. A breath of fresh air from the suits and grey sweatwear.
“Legos?” Bucky asked.
“Oh they’re this building… thing,” Clint’s face blushed only slightly. He sighed, “I’ll show you later I don’t wanna break any of them. Bruce said he wrapped them all super carefully.” Bucky accepted the answer.
Clint left again and Bucky took a few of the baby gates he had brought in to section off a small area of the living room for Alpine to run around in. He set up her litter box and a few blankets and her food and water. He didn’t want to leave her alone after so much time apart, but Clint was bound to get another injury if Bucky didn’t go out and help him. “Be good, little angel.”
Bucky stepped out of the door, walking down the hall and exiting the building. He was greeted with a welcome sight. Clint had taken off his shirt. The sweat on his back made his muscles glisten in the sun. Bucky couldn’t help but ogle. Clint was digging in a half-open box. He pulled out an old tank top with an ‘ah-ha!’ He slipped on the tight article of clothing. It was black and had a jackalope on the front. It clearly didn’t fit him very well and was slightly cropped at the bottom, but Bucky wasn’t complaining. Due to Tony pulling a few strings, there were no reporters or paparazzi and the streets were relatively quiet for midday in the heart of L.A. (at least according to Clint). He had no one to worry about when it came to showing his interest in Clint outwardly and by god he would take advantage of it.
“Where’d you get that?” He asked, raking his eyes over Clint’s arms. He was more muscular than he looked. He had to be since he was an archer. Pulling back a bowstring isn’t easy.
Clint looked over, “From an old Highland games festival Thor made me go to. I thought it was cool.” He looked down at it, pulling the hem to look at the design, “Doesn’t fit well anymore I guess. Must’ve gotten bigger.” He removed the shirt again, tossing it in the box, “Oh, well. It’s a tank top anyway.”
Bucky nodded along, but he wasn’t really listening, “Uh huh.”
The blonde picked up the box and tossed it on the ground. It landed with a loud ‘thump’. Clint jumped down after, “Alright this is the last one of my stuff. There’s a couch and some desks and tables and stuff in the truck. Tony said he’ll be sending a bunch of tech over tomorrow, so we only need to worry about setting up the desks in the bedrooms and the living room furniture.”
“Hm,” Bucky hummed in response. He adopted a confused face, “Bedrooms? Shouldn’t we share one?”
Clint’s face turned a little red, “You want to share a room with me?”
Bucky suddenly felt embarrassed and stupid. Maybe Clint wasn’t on the same page as him, “Oh, sorry, we don’t have to-”
“No, no-” Clint stopped him, “I want to. I definitely want to. I just thought you’d want your privacy, just in case.”
Bucky hadn’t thought of that. Maybe he did want space, “Actually…” He blinked, “Maybe? I don’t know. I know I want to be around you, but I tend to have…” He made a motion like he was weighing his options, “less than peaceful dreams. I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”
“What? I don’t want you to be alone during nightmares, Buck. I can help you. I meant, like, if you just wanted a place to be alone for a bit,” Clint explained. Bucky nodded, understanding better.
“That makes more sense,” He chuckled. “In that case I’m never leaving your side. You’re stuck with me now.” He smiled before walking past. He patted Clint’s pectoral as he passed and climbed in the truck.
The two got to work on bringing the furniture inside. Yes, it was mostly Bucky, but Clint definitely helped. Most of the furniture had to be built besides the couch, tv stand, and coffee table. Clint arranged them while Bucky stacked a few of the unbuilt boxes in the hallway. The bed frames and mattresses were already in the bedrooms, so they didn’t need to worry about sleep accommodations. It took them most of the day to get everything the way they wanted. Clint hadn’t even gone through his things because they were so focused on setting up the house. Bucky shut the truck, taking a big breath. Clint came up beside him, slipping his arms around his waist and hugging him sideways. Bucky wasn’t expecting the contact, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He patted Clint’s cheek and Clint leaned in to kiss his temple.
“Ready to relax?” Bucky turned his head so Clint could kiss him properly. Clint sighed dramatically.
“Absolutely,” He gave Bucky a quick peck before dragging his hand across Bucky’s waist to grab his hand and lead him inside.
Clint walked in, taking a big breath and stretching his arms out. Bucky would’ve stared if something hadn’t caught his attention. There was a letter on the counter. It had a sticky note attached to it. Bucky picked up the letter, reading the quick message,
A letter came in for you. Figured this one shouldn’t be sent in with the others - Natasha
“Clint?” Bucky called, looking over. Clint straightened up, having leaned down to pick up Alpine.
He looked over, the kitten clutched close to his chest, “Yeah?”
Bucky held out the envelope, “Natasha stopped by.”
Clint gave him a surprised look. He walked over and traded Alpine for the letter gently. He read the note and flipped it over, opening the seal. He unfolded it, surprised to be greeted with Russian. Bucky read it over his shoulder as he read it out loud.
‘My dear Francis,
I saw the news. I’m quite angry you would keep a secret like that from me, but I understand why you did so. You know, I always thought I recognized you two from somewhere.
That kind woman who talked to me before you left stopped by and left me a letter with your address and a ‘lifetime protection policy’. I’m not sure what this policy is, but it sounds promising!
Anyway, I’m going to keep this short and congratulate you two on your pardoning. Stay safe and don’t forget about me and Filipp when you plan the wedding.
Write back soon,
Inga’
“She’s such a grandma,” Clint smiled down at the paper and folded it back gently, “Of course she’d send a letter the moment she hears.”
Bucky chuckled, scratching Alpine’s head absentmindedly. She purred loudly in his arms, “She cares, I’ll give her that.”
Clint set it on the counter again, petting Alpine as well. She was a shining light in both of their lives. “Should we send something back?”
“She asked you to. I think she’d be mad if you didn’t,” Bucky warned, moving to the couch. Clint followed him closely.
“I’ll send something over to her tomorrow. Maybe some American goodies like candy or something,” They plopped down on the couch together. There was no TV yet, so they had to entertain themselves.
Bucky let out a dramatic sigh, leaning over on Clint’s shoulder, “What now?” He pet Alpine, who had curled up in his lap.
“I dunno, sleep?” Clint rested his head on the back cushion.
“Uh-uh,” Bucky looked up at him, faking a mad face, “and what about the child? What is she gonna do?”
Clint looked down at Alpine, who was already snoozing. “Same thing, I guess,” he laughed softly. Bucky snorted, dissatisfied. “What, you wanna do something?”
Bucky rolled his eyes, “no.”
“Then why are you complaining?” Clint looked over at him, no judgement or argument in his words.
Bucky shrugged, “Dunno.”
Clint shook his head, “so dramatic.” He leaned his head back again, “lemme guess, you want food?”
“Yes, please.” Bucky smiled politely.
“Alright, I’ll get you food.”
——————
Clint left to get some groceries and send off a letter a few hours ago. It was only their second day in the new apartment, so they didn’t really have much to eat or make things with. Both of them took in all the screens Tony had sent but Clint had only set up the TV in the living room so Bucky could get started on the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings movies he’d recently learned about. He’d gotten through the first two before he realized Clint had been gone for a long time.
He called his phone over and over and each time it was sent to voicemail. Bucky had started to worry. Alpine watched him pace from her place on the counter, licking her paw absentmindedly. He whispered to himself, “C’mon, you stupid, stupid man.” Bucky pressed the call button again. The voicemail popped up and Bucky nearly threw his phone at the wall. He clutched the device, staring at the ‘call ended’ screen and yelling at it in frustration. “Stupid fucking phone!” He set it on the counter. Alpine gave him a ‘mrrp?’ in confusion. He looked at her and scratched her head gently. She stood up to push her head into his hand.
“What the hell am I going to do with him, Alpine?” He mumbled. She responded with obnoxiously loud purring. “You would have my back if I yelled at him for this, right?” Bucky kissed her forehead, moving to scratch the base of her tail. Her tail lifted high with appreciation. “Are you even listening to me?” He chuckled. She meowed back, staring up at him with her big blue eyes before returning to purring. “Well, it’s good to know someone has my back in this.” He let his mind wander. He was worried. Something could have happened to Clint. Who knows who’s put a target on Clint’s back?
He turned away suddenly, slipping on his jacket and his shoes. He let Alpine climb into the warm innards of his coat, heading towards the door. Bucky opened it, ready to leave, but he stopped in his tracks.
Clint was outside, hand reaching for the doorknob. Bucky gave him an angry look, “Where were-?” He looked down. There was a dog. A skinny golden retriever with a missing left eye. He looked fresh out of the vet’s office with bandages on his legs and a cone around his head. He sat next to Clint without a collar or leash, looking up at Bucky with big, tearful eyes. His anger began to dissipate. Like he said, he had a bleeding heart for animals. “Who’s this?” He crouched down, reaching out so the dog could smell his flesh hand.
“I named him Lucky. ‘Cause he’s lucky to be alive,” Clint smiled. The dog sniffed his hand and licked it gently, tail thumping against the carpet. Bucky wanted to be mad at Clint for not calling him or consulting him, but Bucky had done the same thing with Alpine. Plus, the dog was cute.
“I’m guessing he’s why you never answered my calls?” Bucky gave Clint a disapproving look through his lashes.
Clint made an ‘oh shit’ face, “You called me?” He whipped out his phone. It was dead. “Damn, I must’ve forgotten to charge it last night.”
“Well, at least you’re okay,” Bucky stood up, letting them both inside. Lucky limped after Clint, sniffing around timidly. “So what happened to him?” He closed the door and took off his shoes again before tailing them. Alpine stuck her curious head out of his jacket, staring down bug-eyed at Lucky.
Clint made another face, “The uhm-” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Some punks chased him out into the street and he got hit by a car. I took him to the vet’s office. That’s why it took so long.”
Bucky got the impression Clint wasn’t telling the truth. He pulled Alpine out of his coat and let her scurry onto her brand new cat tower. He slipped the garment off and tossed it on the chair next to him. As Clint sat on the couch and helped Lucky up beside him, Bucky stood in front of him, looming, “Is that what really happened?”
Clint leaned back into the couch, shrinking a little, “Yeah.” He sounded unsure.
“You’re not telling the truth,” Bucky leaned down into his face, using the back of the couch for stabilization. Clint visibly gulped.
“I’m… not exactly lying either,” He tried to defend himself.
“Fine,” Bucky moved closer. He knew exactly what he was doing. Clint would fold. “How did you really find him?”
“The tracksuits,” Clint blurted out. He slapped a hand over his mouth.
Bucky froze, “What?” He stood up properly, getting out of Clint’s space.
Clint started his word vomit, “I was taking a walk to the supermarket down the street so I could pick up a few things for the house and maybe some dinner and on the way there I saw them in a jewelry store and Lucky was outside and one of them spotted me and came outside to fight me or something and Lucky attacked him and the guy kicked him into the street and there was a car coming and I couldn’t get to him in time so he got hit so I just picked him up and ran away.” He took a big breath, “He broke his leg and I had to carry him here.” He let out his breath, “... sorry.”
“That’s…” Bucky took a long moment to play out the scenario in his mind, “probably the best way you could have reacted.” He sat down next to him slowly. Lucky panted and looked at him from across the couch. “So they recognized you from inside the store?”
Clint looked to the side, “Yeah.” He sounded unsure again.
“Clint,” he warned.
“Okay, I was in the store and they came in and noticed me and I tried to leave but they followed me and that’s when Lucky jumped out,” Clint blurted again.
“Why were you in the store?” Bucky grilled him.
Clint shrugged. Bucky glared. Clint sighed dramatically, but his voice softened, “I was getting something.” Clint reached into his front pocket. He pulled something from it, hiding it in his hand. “You cannot get mad at me, okay?”
Bucky furrowed his brow, “What did you get?” He had a feeling he knew, but he wanted Clint to say it.
Clint took Bucky’s right hand gently, slipping the jewelry into it. Bucky slowly opened his palm, looking down at his palm. It was a simple silver bracelet with an arrow charm. He held it up to the light so it would shine. “Is it too cheesy?”
“No, it’s cute,” Bucky laughed. He slipped it over his wrist. “I like it.”
“Thank god cause I’m pretty sure I got a good few bruises to get it.” Clint sighed in relief.
Bucky’s head snapped up, “What?”
“Oh, yeah, they got to me before Lucky stepped in.” Clint looked away.
“Did you fight back?” Bucky asked.
“No,” Clint shook his head, “I can’t risk that ‘no heroism’ clause this early into my sentence.” He laughed nervously.
Bucky was conflicted. On one hand, he thought Clint was well within his right to fight back when people were attacking him, but on the other, the tracksuits were his main enemy and fighting back could be seen as an act of vigilantism or heroism. Fighting back could ruin everything they worked for. He sighed, “I know.” He didn’t like the fact that the only option was to sit there and take it, but he couldn’t think of any other way around it. He played with the bracelet, “You got yourself beat up to get me a gift.” Bucky chuckled and looked at it caringly.
Clint shrugged, “I’ve done worse for less.”
He laughed again, “You’re so dumb.” He pulled Clint in for another kiss.
——————
Bucky and Clint had never exactly talked outright about their relationship. Yeah, they had kissed and hugged and gone out on dates at least a million times after reconciling with the Avengers, but it hadn’t gone further than kisses and sleeping in the same bed at night- mainly because they couldn’t sleep any other way. They sort of just considered each other as a ‘boyfriend’ and moved on.
To be honest, Bucky still wasn’t sure what else there was in a queer relationship besides the more physical parts.When he was younger, he had never been on a date. He never knew how to be romantic. All of those ‘lessons’ Steve had tried to teach him were cringey and outdated now that he looked back at them. Of course, there's the good lessons- “treat her- him with respect. Buy him… flowers? Or maybe a new shaving kit. Although I'm sure a guy could appreciate a nice bouquet, ya dig?” - but Bucky wasn’t sure if Clint was a flower type of guy. In fact, he couldn’t really place anything Clint liked besides pizza, coffee, and drama or comedy shows. In the name of love, he resigned himself to making coffee in the mornings and sitting through another episode of Brooklyn 99.
As the intro theme started, Bucky took his eyes off the screen, choosing to glance over at Clint, who was slouched onto the couch right next to him. They had a whole sofa and yet Clint always sat as close as humanly possible to Bucky. Even before they were ‘together’ he loved to invade Bucky’s personal space. He used to hate it, but it gradually grew on him. Now, he’s disappointed when Clint decides to sit anywhere else. Clint was currently nursing a cup of black coffee. Bucky was never a big fan of anything too bitter. He had a major sweet tooth that only sugar and creamer could satisfy. But Clint took it straight out of the pot. Hell, he’d drink it from the pot if Bucky didn’t stop him. Clint’s feet were propped up on the stained coffee table, crossed at the ankle. He watched the show with half-lidded, tired eyes, yet to be awoken by caffeine.
Clint was hunched shrimp style. Chin tucked into chest. Coffee resting on one hip. Only wearing bright red boxers with atrocious neon blue stripes. He was playing with a stray arrow- which he was somehow allowed to have- in his other hand, spinning it like a drumstick. He had two week old stubble and bedhead and unbrushed teeth. He was a total dreamboat. Bucky could stare at him for hours. Even when Clint turned his head, he stared at him. Even when Clint asked if he had a staring problem, he stared. When he adopted a concerned look and set his things down, Bucky followed him with his eyes. Clint cupped his face, asking Bucky if he was okay. Bucky met his gaze. Then he blinked and looked away.
“Sorry,” Bucky leaned into Clint’s hands, eager for touch.
Clint accepted him, arms pulling Bucky into his chest, “It’s alright, Buck. I just thought you were spacing out on me again.”
“No, no,” He mumbled, “Just looking.”
“At what?” Clint questioned lightheartedly.
“You.” Bucky responded. He said it with a bit of sass, thinking it would be obvious.
“Well, yeah. I guess I should’ve probably asked why .”
Bucky grumbled, “Jeez, I can’t look at you now?” He pushed Clint back playfully, returning to his spot leaning back on the couch normally.
Clint made a noise like he was offended, “Well, you were staring .” He pushed back very gently. Bucky gave a glare with no heat behind it. They looked at each other for a while. Suddenly, Clint stood. Bucky was surprised. “C’mon, up,” He motioned, holding out a hand.
Bucky slowly took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Lucky, who was asleep in his brand new bed, lifted his freshly unconed head. Clint led him to a clearer space in the room. He maneuvered awkwardly, taking Bucky’s hands and placing them on his shoulders. He then set his own hands on Bucky’s waist and pulled him closer.
“Are you trying to dance with me?” Bucky questioned with amusement.
Without answering, Clint began to hum a song swaying side to side with him. Clint was watching their feet, making sure not to step on Bucky’s toes. It took a second for Bucky to recognize the song. It was an old Woody Guthrie song- titled ‘Do Re Mi’- which obviously isn’t normally seen as a romantic song, but it was one of the first songs Bucky had listened to when Clint showed him how to work his music app. He was always a Guthrie fan when he was younger and to see all of his music immortalized through the internet sparked that love again. It meant the world to him that Clint remembered.
“You are such a sap,” He laughed softly. Bucky had never been treated so gently before. After years and years of torture and missions and back-and-forth freezing and defrosting and freezing again, to be treated so kindly was a luxury he was sure he was indebted for. For the first time he felt as if this was what he deserved. He deserved to be treated nicely and kissed softly and danced with.
The blonde kissed his cheek oh so gently, “I actually don’t know the whole song like you, so I’m stopping there.” Bucky laughed again. He’d been laughing so often now that it made him realize how long it’d been. He couldn’t help but feel proud. To feel grateful. He survived something that should’ve killed him and now he’s moved on to be happy . He never thought he’d be happy again.
Clint continued to pepper Bucky’s face with kisses. Bucky eventually pushed his face away, giving him a scrunched nose look of ‘you better stop’. All playful, of course. Bucky was enjoying the attention. He pulled Clint close again, “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
“I get that a lot,” Clint gave him a grin.
Bucky kissed him again. It wouldn’t be the last time.
Chapter 12: i don't know where i'd go without you
Summary:
they get nasty in this one no plot
arguing as a form of dirty talk I guess
Notes:
i’m ovulating (threat)
This is 90% foreplay and 1% sex. The other 9% is awkwardness. Who is dominant? Who is submissive? No clue!!! Figure it out. You’re the one reading it.
Writing smut gives me secondhand embarrassment so I've written this like David Attenburough is narrating again. There are just no good words for a penis, guys. Cock is funny. Dick is a name. Penis is too formal. Member is just classic fanfiction. Pecker is southern slang. What the hell do you even call that thing????
I watched the full FNAF timeline Game Theory put out 2 years ago and Markiplier’s playthrough of Secret of the Mimic during this if that’s anything.
Also I’m thinking of writing a Starlock (Adam Warlock/Star Lord) 80s AU or them in my already overarching Marvel AU (just my own versions of the characters in this 2099 universe). OR work on that Mortal Kombat Band AU… Which should I go for hmmm………….
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
World War II had made Bucky no stranger to romantic and sexual loneliness. Of course, soldiers had their ways around this. Frequent stops into civilian towns overseas meant even more frequent stops into any bar the soldiers could find. The bars had women, which most men were eager to grope. Some women would actively seek out soldiers to have a fling with- Bucky included. Bucky always declined, of course. Some were upset, but when he explained he was sixteen and only here because of Captain America, they would redirect their focus to Steve. Steve also declined. He always had eyes for Agent Carter, their resident Project Rebirth chaperone.
The Howling Commandos almost never separated when the opportunity came to crowd a bar. It made things quite difficult for Bucky. Very difficult, actually. Finding queer men in a world that actively prayed for your downfall wasn’t easy and finding a place to be alone with one when you have several clingy military men who think you’re their younger brother scrambling to include you and your church choir voice in another drinking song was even harder. There’s only so many times you can sing ‘The Drunkard Song’ with blue balls before it becomes annoying.
Of course, there were times where it was just him and Steve talking. The rest of the Commandos were either passed out or at another bar. Steve knew about Bucky’s feelings towards other men and unlike most other people Bucky had met, he accepted him with open arms. This meant that whenever the Commandos attempted to include Bucky and his ‘new friend’ for the third time, Steve would distract them with another round, shooting a knowing glance at Bucky. Bucky never outwardly thanked him, too mortified to say anything, but he was grateful. Steve knew. He always did.
Steve had brought it up once when they were in their bunks, attempting to sleep through their nightmares. The conversation was quiet- whispered so the others wouldn’t hear. Steve asked him if he’d kept in contact with any of his ‘partners’. Bucky had answered ‘no’. When Steve asked why, Bucky explained how it was dangerous to keep in contact. If someone read a love letter from him directed towards another boy, it would compromise their relationship. The other would be scrutinized or worse.
Steve then asked if he felt lonely.
Bucky said yes.
——————
They were standing in front of the counter. Bruce had sent a care package.
“What do you think is in it?” Clint asked, pocket knife in hand. Bucky wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have that, but he didn’t mind.
“No clue,” Bucky responded, leaning on the counter with one hand. His other was on his hip. Both were in casual clothes. Lucky and Alpine were curled up on the couch. It was a Sunday. No one had anywhere to be.
Clint took the knife to the package, “People are always sending me stuff. First Inga and now Bruce. Guess I’m popular now.” Inside, there was a note. Clint grabbed it and opened it, leaning to the side so that Bucky could see it, too. It read:
‘To the only human I know who is genuinely and effortlessly funny,
Here is some of your stupid stuff you left in the tower. I’ve also included keycards for the both of you so you can have access to MOST of the tower. Keyword MOST. Bucky isn’t allowed near Tony for his own safety. Also, neither of you have access to the armory because the government doesn’t trust you two with weapons. Yes, this does mean that you will not be getting your collapsible bow back, but that doesn’t mean you’re not getting your own personal possessions (wink wink).
As a housewarming gift, Thor included two bottles of Asgardian Mead for Bucky since he knows Bucky can’t get drunk normally. I have included tequila because if Bucky’s getting wasted, you should too. Just don’t go skinny dipping again, I can’t handle another press tour about your ‘reckless’ behavior and if Bucky decided to join you I’d have several complaints on my hands.
Okay, enjoy your gifts and your new home. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Or do something I wouldn’t do, I don’t give a fuck.
All my love,
Bruce Banner’
Bucky wasn’t sure how to process the letter. Asgard? Getting drunk? Skinny dipping? He laughed incredulously, “You’ve gone skinny dipping?”
“Ah, it was a while ago and my girlfriend at the time convinced me it would make me ‘loosen up’ or something.” He shook his head, an embarrassed smile on his face, “Turns out there was a frat house at the same lake we were at and a bunch of college kids got to see an Avenger in the nude.” Clint laughed and Bucky joined him.
“How the hell did she convince you to do that?” He cocked his head. He was a little jealous that he wasn’t the one to do that, but he knew he shouldn’t worry too much about past relationships. Bucky wasn’t exactly innocent either.
Clint shrugged, “I do stupid stuff for people I love.”
“That one is obvious,” Bucky shook his head, looking into the box. It contained a few mundane things like old clothes, some cologne, a few old notebooks, etc.
Clint pulled them out one by one, reminiscing for a bit each time, “Shit, these are my old blueprints for all my trick arrows. I'm pretty sure the schematics for my first collapsible bow are in here, too.” He reached into the bottom of the box, pulling out the bottles of alcohol. “And here’s your treats, courtesy of Thor.” Clint handed the bottles to Bucky.
“I still can’t wrap my hands around the whole Norse god thing,” Bucky looked at the bottles, attempting to read the script. It was completely foreign to him. He shrugged. He didn’t expect to understand it anyway. He turned around to shove them in the fridge.
“Yeah, it’s not the easiest thing to understand, but you get used to it. He’s actually a really chill guy when you get to know him,” Clint pulled out the tequila, setting it aside. “I’m actually a little skeptical about if he and Bruce are dating. They spent a lot of time together and Bruce is always nice to him. Which is weird because Bruce isn’t nice to anybody.”
“Really? I mean, I think it’d be cute. They seem like they’re a good fit,” Bucky turned to Clint again, shutting the fridge. Clint was paused over the box, staring at the object in his hands. It looked like a black article of clothing, “Whatcha got there?” Bucky leaned one shoulder on the fridge.
Clint slowly looked at Bucky, expression unreadable, “Hey, so you know how you wanted to see my Hawkeye costume?”
Bucky’s eyes widened, “Shut up.” He raced to Clint’s side, taking the leather suit from him. He looked it over, noticing the slight repaired battle damage and weathered look. “You have to put it on.” Bucky stared up at Clint.
He gave Bucky a hesitant look, “Buck, it’ll barely fit me.” The other shoved the clothing into Clint’s chest. He made an ‘umph’ sound from the force.
“Put it on.” It wasn’t a question.
Clint nodded, “Okay, yeah, one sec.”
——————
“It’s a little tight,” Clint tried to stretch his arms back. The leather squeaked in protest. Bucky had an arm crossed over his chest and was chewing on the tip of his thumb as he looked over Clint. It was true, the leather was tighter than it had seemed in the images Bucky saw. The thick vest didn’t zip up all the way, stopping just below his chest, and the pants didn’t leave much to the imagination. The arm guards and thigh straps strained around his muscles so badly Bucky was sure they would snap. He halfway hoped they would. “Thoughts?”
“Lots of ‘em,” Bucky took a deep breath. It took all of his self control to not jump on him the moment he walked out. Now his self control wasn't doing much. He stepped up to him, reaching out a hand to feel the leather of his vest. “This wouldn’t close?” He joked.
“Nope,” Clint laughed nervously, “I guess I grew a bit.” Bucky hadn’t realized how much he loved making Clint just a little afraid of him. Well, afraid wasn’t the right word. Nervous. But maybe also afraid.
“Uh huh,” Bucky pulled the zipper down. It slipped easily and Bucky was able to open the vest. He held either side, staring at the undershirt that hugged Clint’s waist like its life depended on it.
“Whatcha doin’?” Clint asked.
Bucky looked up at him through his lashes, “Y’know” He set his hands on Clint’s chest, slowly dragging them down his front, “There’s nothing stopping me from saying all of those things I couldn’t say when I first saw this.” He could practically feel the heat radiating from Clint’s face.
“So… what did you want to say?” The other sounded unsure, but his hands made their way to rest on Bucky’s hips, pulling him in closer.
“Well,” Bucky brought his face to Clint’s, “most of them were actions, not words.” He could feel Clint tense in anticipation, eyes hurriedly attempting to focus on Bucky. Bucky stepped forward, forcing Clint to step back. “I think you look good, by the way, if it wasn’t obvious.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Clint chuckled. Bucky took that as a challenge.
“Oh?” Bucky slipped his hands around Clint’s waist, bringing them chest to chest.
Clint breathed out shakily. His eyes twitched between Bucky’s eyes and mouth. Bucky could tell that he was looking for something to say that wouldn’t leave him in a worse position than he already was in, “Why don’t you show me what you wanted?” Clint never really was good with words, anyway.
Bucky took the initiative to pull him in for a kiss, pushing Clint back into the bedroom. He pulled the vest off quickly, tossing it to the side. Clint let Bucky guide him backwards onto the foot of the bed so he was laying on his elbows. Bucky almost jumped into Clint’s lap, more eager than he’d ever been for anything in his entire life. Clint clung to him the whole time, mirroring his frantic movements. Bucky finally pulled away for air, “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Depends on what ‘this’ is,” Clint was breathing heavily, lips glistening with spit. “But the answer is most likely a very enthusiastic yes.” Bucky reached his left hand to Clint’s face, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look him in the eye.
“Do you trust me?” He asked, a serious expression on his flushed face.
Trust was an important part in their relationship. Loving someone was easy. You could love a million people in your short lifetime alone. But trusting someone? Much harder. Trust was hard to come by and easily broken. As soon as you have it, it’s gone. Instantaneously. Most of the time, it can never be rebuilt. But they trusted each other. Bucky thought they trusted each other a little too much, but he was so deprived of connection he was willing to risk what little humanity he had left for it.
Clint nodded in confirmation very quickly, “Absolutely.”
Bucky slipped his hands under Clint’s shirt, pulling the tight fabric up and over his head. It revealed the chest Bucky had seen so many times before. It was rare that Bucky gave in to greed but this time he wanted more . A lot more. He returned his metal hand to Clint’s back and slid it down, causing the other man to tense in surprise. He could feel Clint shiver and clench his jaw. He liked when that happened. Something about having him trembling during an intimate moment like this awakened a fire Bucky didn't realize had been there. Bucky dragged the metal down his spine, leaning in to lick his neck. This elicited some type of gasp-shudder combo from the other man that only egged Bucky on, “You little shit. You know what you’re doing.”
Bucky fought back a very emasculating giggle as he pressed a soft kiss to Clint’s jaw. “Do I?” he rumbled. He had him wrapped around his shiny metal finger. Bucky dragged his hand back up Clint’s back, digging in ever so lightly. Clint gradually lifted his head as Bucky’s fingers moved. Bucky stared.
Clint’s jaw was clenched and a vein was popping from his neck. His eyes were closed and his mouth pulled into a tight line. He let out a shaky breath through his nose, “Jesus Christ, Buck.” Bucky wasn’t one to show it, but he was desperate. Horrifically desperate. It had been god knows how long since he had genuine (and frankly consentual, considering Hydra) sexual relations with anyone and he was eager to make up for lost time. Bucky removed his metal hand from Clint’s back, which was met with what sounded like a disappointed huff. He quickly re-met Clint’s expectations by grabbing his face and bringing him in for a kiss.
“You love me, right?” Bucky mumbled into his mouth. Clint responded with an ‘mh-hm’, refusing to pull back to talk. Bucky pulled him back anyway, “not an answer.”
He groaned in annoyance, “I did answer you.”
“Not good enough,” Bucky whispered. “Tell me you love me.” He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he was trusting his instincts. He was hyper analyzing Clint’s every movement. Not one twitch or breath or blink went unnoticed. He wanted to make sure Clint was not only enjoying himself, but actively pushing the scenario forward. He was giving Clint a chance- something he seemed to be doing more and more.
“I love you,” Clint responded quickly. He pressed another quick kiss to Bucky’s lips, “I love you so much.” Bucky felt absolutely drunk with power. His heart rate quickened. He was in control. That’s all he could have ever wanted.
Bucky stood up, leaving Clint on the bed. Clint huffed. He looked almost pathetic, looking up at Bucky with unfocused and wide blue eyes, mouth open and panting softly. Bucky brought a hand to the hem of his own shirt. Clint perked up, suddenly very tuned into the situation. Bucky stopped.
“What the hell was that?” He laughed, somewhat startled by the sudden change.
Clint looked away awkwardly, stumbling over his words a bit, “I don’t know.” He cleared his throat, “I think my desire to see you shirtless is outweighing any logical thought.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, “Of course it is.” He finally pulled his shirt over his head. Clint scooted to the edge of the bed, reaching out immediately to pull Bucky in by the hips. Bucky rested his hands on Clint’s shoulders as Clint wrapped his arms around Bucky’s hips, setting his chin on Bucky’s stomach, looking up at him with a goofy smile. Bucky ruffled his hair. “You’re adorable.”
“I’m wrapped in leather,” Clint chuckled, “I’m badass.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Bucky rolled his eyes, pushing Clint back again. “Back up.” Clint followed the command quickly. His back hit the headboard and Bucky closed in. He fully straddled Clint, metal hand clutching the headboard as his other fumbled with the button on his jeans.
Clint slid a hand up Bucky’s chest, “Someone’s eager.” He teased, snaking his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. He tried to bring Bucky down for a kiss, but Bucky resisted.
“Shut up,” he mumbled. Bucky managed to slip his jeans down, making do with the limited movement he had. He moved his hand to Clint’s tight leather garments instead, much more excited to get them off than his own.
“What, too stubborn to admit it?” Clint was testing his limits, seeing what Bucky would respond to. Attempting to get into his head.
“Clint…” Bucky warned, staring him in the eyes. He didn’t get the hint.
Clint shifted underneath him, the friction made Bucky’s thighs tense in response. He dragged his hands back over Bucky’s chest, spreading his hands out over his pectorals. Bucky closed his eyes for a moment to steel himself. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” He laughed mischievously.
Bucky readjusted himself quickly- quicker than Clint could react, at least- and sat up, grabbing Clint’s face with his metal arm and turning it to the side so he could lean into his ear. “Shut the fuck up,” He slid his hand over Clint’s mouth, keeping their faces close as he finally managed to undo the needlessly complicated buttons on the front of Clint’s pants. Looking down, it became obvious Clint hadn’t bothered to put on underwear. “And nothing under this? You knew I would do this, huh?” He nodded. Bucky could tell he was grinning beneath his hand. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Clint closed his eyes and nodded again as if to say ‘very much so, yes’.
He shook his head as he splayed out his flesh hand over Clint’s lower stomach, dangerously close to the tip of his now-exposed dick. Clint let his head fall back onto the headboard, eyes staring at the ceiling. Bucky let him, dropping his other hand to Clint’s shoulder. He dragged the metal to meet his other, both hands resting on either side of Clint’s pelvis. Clint had a happy trail leading to below his belt line- almost unnoticeable at first due to how light his hair was. Bucky dragged two fingers down the trail, feeling Clint shiver beneath him.
“Buck,” He complained. “Don’t tease.” Bucky adored how easily Clint switched between his normal behavior and a side of him Bucky knew was exclusively for him. One second he was being his usual cocky self and talking back and the next he was almost trembling, hands gripping Bucky’s thighs loosely.
“Oh? What happened to me being eager?” Bucky mocked him. Just the sight of him could give anyone a power trip. Hawkeye, Ronin, the man who never misses, an Avenger , was beneath him and on the borderline of begging Bucky to touch him. Actually, Bucky was waiting for exactly that. He wasn’t even sure where this desire came from, but it felt right.
“You still are,” Clint pushed back. Bucky wouldn’t let that happen.
“I thought I told you to be quiet,” He threatened- lightheartedly, of course.
“No, you told me to shut up,” Clint said, matter-of-factly.
“Well, did you want to do that now or would you rather me do it?” Bucky gave him an intense stare. Clint finally decided to hold his tongue. He didn’t move his head, glancing down at Clint’s dick and where Bucky’s hand was hovering close above. It twitched, pre-cum pooling on the head. He looked back up, pulling Clint in for a kiss.
He slipped his hand over Clint’s shaft, relishing in how Clint let out a shaky breath into his mouth. Bucky dragged his hand slowly as if he was just ghosting over the skin. He could feel every twitch of the muscle- every strain and tense. Clint was reacting. That was good. Enough of that and he might give in.
Clint’s hips lifted slightly, attempting to get more friction, which Bucky denied him, “C’mon, Buck.” He turned his head slightly to speak, breaking their kiss. Bucky licked into his mouth, shutting him up yet again. When Clint moved again and Bucky still denied him, he grumbled. Clint brought his hand from Bucky’s thigh to his hip, slipping his finger in the waistband of Bucky’s underwear.
Bucky tensed, squeezing Clint’s cock in response. Clint took the opportunity to buck his hips into Bucky’s hand, taking Bucky by surprise. Clint let out a breathy laugh. Bucky moved his mouth down Clint’s jaw, teeth scraping down his jugular, “You have no patience.” He growled.
“I’m very patient,” Clint pushed down Bucky’s underwear to reveal his dick, wrapping his hand around it eagerly. Bucky groaned into Clint’s neck, mouth attached to the tender skin there. Clint carefully removed Bucky’s hand from his own cock, using one hand to grasp them both. He had to take a second to calm himself so he didn’t lose it right there.
“Yeah, right,” Bucky kissed the skin between Clint’s neck and shoulder before biting down, hands planted firmly on either side of Clint’s shoulders. He gripped into the soft pillows before grinding his hips down.
Neither of them would ever admit it, but they were both impatient and extremely contradictory with their dirty talk. They attacked each other like their life depended on it, bites and bruises being just a risk they were more than willing to take. Clint’s hand kept their dicks together as Bucky moved, suddenly very understanding of Clint’s desperation for movement. He sank his teeth into any untouched section of skin on Clint’s neck he could find. Alternatively, Clint had his head tilted back in ecstasy while his other hand gripped into Bucky’s thigh so hard he thought he was going to rip off a chunk of skin. Both were gritting their teeth and huffing, almost refusing to give the other the satisfaction of a moan or a whine.
It went on like that for a good while, both completely lost in each other before Clint decided to stop his hand movement, eyes closed and breathing heavily. Bucky tried to grind down again, but Clint held his hips in place with his free hand. He grumbled, “Why’d you stop?” His voice had become raspy from all the bitten back noises. He was also panting, almost tempted to take over.
“Just-” Clint caught his breath, “give me a second.” Bucky huffed in response.
“Why?” He hissed. The lack of movement left him frustrated. Then, he took a second to think. He had a lightbulb moment, “Are you close already ?” Bucky teased.
“No,” Clint opened his eyes just to roll them, “And so what if I am? You have super soldier stamina.”
Bucky was tempted to say ‘you’re damn right’ and leave it at that, but he decided that teasing him would be better. “Doesn’t mean you can’t last as long. It just means I’ll be up for more rounds. This is a you thing.” He stole a kiss from Clint, sly smirk on his face.
Clint gave him a challenging look. Bucky responded with a stare that dared him to act. Clint dropped his hand, suddenly sitting up to knock Bucky off balance. It reminded him of the move Clint had used all those months ago to take control. Bucky could very easily counter it, but he wanted to see where this was going. Clint ended up between Bucky’s legs, pushing Bucky down so he could climb on top. He caught Bucky in a bruising kiss, trailing his hand down his front. Bucky arched into the touch, gasping into Clint’s mouth.
He pulled off Bucky’s garments fully, wasting no time as he grabbed Bucky’s hips to bring him in closer, “You wanna make a bet?” Clint squeezed, nails digging into Bucky’s skin. Bucky wrapped his legs tightly around Clint’s middle. He couldn’t respond due to Clint’s tongue down his throat, but he didn’t mind.
Clint finally freed Bucky’s mouth to move down his neck. He was moving painfully slow and Bucky had to awkwardly maneuver his hips to get any sort of friction. It was frustrating. “Jesus, will you get a fucking move on?” Clint stopped, sitting up and giving him a comically surprised look.
“Alright,” Clint shrugged, climbing off of Bucky to turn towards the bedside table. Bucky sat up on his elbows, watching as Clint dug into the drawer.
“The hell are you doing?” He was starting to get genuinely angry from understimulation. Clint gave him a smug grin back, pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom. He slipped the condom between his teeth as he climbed back into his spot between Bucky’s legs. The leather of his pants, which were still very tight against his thighs, squeaked as he did so.
“Getting a move on,” He spoke through his teeth, reaching up to rip open the wrapper with them. He spit it aside and slipped on the condom, moving his hands to Bucky’s thighs to bring them around his waist. Bucky found the assertiveness of his actions very attractive. “If you want me to stop you tell me, okay?” Clint clicked open the cap of the bottle, awaiting a response.
Bucky nodded, “Yeah, got it.” He answered very quickly, lifting his hips subconsciously. Clint coated one of his hand’s fingers with lube before he capped it and tossed it aside. He gripped the underside of Bucky’s thigh with a surprising gentleness, lifting one leg up over his shoulder for a better angle. The other wrapped around Clint’s back, leaving Bucky’s hips slightly raised to one side. Since he couldn’t reach Clint without moving his legs, he resigned to grappling the sheets with his metal hand and covering his face with his flesh one.
Clint rubbed his fingers together to warm the fluid before pushing one digit in, watching Bucky intently to see any sign of resistance. Bucky breathed out a sigh of what he could only assume to be relief and dropped his head back onto the mattress, hand covering his mouth. Clint used his free hand to rub up and down Bucky’s thigh. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of Bucky’s knee, inserting another finger slowly. Bucky bit back a moan, more than happy that Clint was finally doing this but not yet ready to give him the satisfaction of letting him know.
“Good?” Clint asked softly. Bucky could only nod. Clint curled his fingers, slowly working him open. Bucky’s legs tensed and tightened around Clint’s shoulder and waist, briefly pulling him forward from the strength. He was taking his sweet time and Bucky could tell he was enjoying every second that Bucky twitched or tensed. Bucky stared at him through his lashes, head still back on the mattress. He could see Clint’s eyes rake over his body hungrily, free hand gripping his thigh like Bucky was going to disappear if he let go.
“Clint,” Bucky croaked, removing his hand briefly. Clint’s movements stopped and Bucky almost whined at the loss. Almost. “More.” He barely made a noise when he said it, but Clint heard.
Clint nodded, slipping in a third finger. He made eye contact as he did, watching as if he was trying to make sure Bucky saw. Bucky could only imagine what he was thinking. It was probably the horny portion of his brain, but he swore he could hear Clint’s voice in his mind saying ‘You see? I’m giving you what you need.’ Clint curled his fingers once more and brushed over his prostate, making Bucky jump in surprise. His hips jerked only slightly, but Bucky definitely felt it. He covered his mouth again quickly.
“There we go,” Clint whispered to himself, pulling his fingers out just to push in again, searching for that same spot. Bucky let out an ‘mph’ in response, hips jerking yet again. He’d hit it again. Of course he did. He never misses. Bucky almost laughed at that thought. As Clint pulled out a second time, Bucky held up a hand.
“No more, I’m ready,” Bucky actually wasn’t sure if he was, but he really couldn’t take a third hit. Not with Clint looking at him like that. Like Bucky had hung the stars.
Clint adopted a concerned look, “You sure?”
Bucky lost his composure, already so hard it hurt. He whined. He actually gritted his teeth and whined , “yes, god, please .” Bucky saw Clint hesitate, processing the sight before him. If Clint wasn’t red already, he was definitely red now. Bucky could practically see the steam coming off of his cheeks.
“Okay,” Clint answered quietly. He moved his hand to his dick, coating it in lube with a few strokes before lining up. Bucky shuddered. Clint moved forward, a steel grip on Bucky’s thigh to stabilize him.
“ Fuck ,” Bucky was sure he couldn’t form a single cohesive thought, shoulders almost going limp as Clint bottomed out. His dick twitched, spilling pre-cum down his chest. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth again slowly and he could feel his metal arm tearing at the sheets. He closed his eyes as he adjusted.
Clint wasn’t unaffected. He was trembling, staring down at Bucky with nothing but adoration and amazement, breathing heavy. His hands, shaking, slid down to Bucky’s waist. He leaned over him slowly, speaking quietly, “Are you alright?” He smiled softly. Bucky cracked an eye open at him. He nodded. Clint breathed a small sigh of relief.
It was another long moment before Bucky steeled himself enough to move his hips. Just because he was adjusting briefly did not mean he had lost his desperation. He lifted them and brought them back down in a smooth motion, groaning when he felt Clint shifting inside him. Clint made a noise akin to a choked moan, hand falling to catch himself as he doubled over Bucky. He was leaning over him now, having dropped Bucky’s leg from his shoulder. The back of Bucky’s thighs were flush to Clint’s pelvis, not allowing for much movement.
Bucky whined again, “Clint, move.” He reached his flesh hand to Clint’s shoulder for leverage, bucking his hips up to rut his dick against Clint’s stomach. Clint panted, regaining his composure. He was trembling still, seemingly overwhelmed.
He could only respond with an ‘mph’ as he hooked one hand under Bucky’s knee, pushing it into his chest and leaning over him. He locked Bucky in a kiss before grinding his hips forward, finally giving Bucky some movement. Bucky moaned into his mouth, clutching Clint’s face with his hands so he couldn’t lean away. As Clint settled into a steady pace, Bucky slipped his left hand down Clint’s back. He enjoyed how Clint’s hips stuttered and his muscles twitched. He was sure whatever Clint was thinking- if he could think at all- would make the devil turn away in embarrassment.
Bucky slipped his right hand into Clint’s hair, tugging at the longest hairs. Clint broke away from Bucky’s mouth, gritting his teeth as he silenced whatever noise he was going to make. As Bucky made his home in Clint’s neck, he growled, “Don’t be quiet, now.” He panted into Clint’s skin, “You can run your mouth all day, but you can’t moan for me?”
Clint responded with the smallest of whines. It sounded more like a huff than anything. Bucky wasn’t satisfied. He yanked on his hair again. Clint let out a broken moans, nails digging into Bucky’s thighs. He came to a stop for a moment before steadily starting his pace again. Bucky felt Clint’s legs shaking. “That wasn’t so bad, right?” Bucky kissed a bite he had left earlier. “I want to hear you.”
Steadily, he became louder. It started with pants and groans. Then evolved into moans. Then, finally, Clint was whimpering and drooling over him, whispering curses and words Bucky couldn’t make out. Bucky dug his hands into Clint’s back in response. He was leaving marks, he could tell. He loved it.
Clint got loud. He lurched forward to grab at the sheets beside Bucky’s head, his other hand pushing Bucky’s leg further down into his chest. He dropped his forehead onto Bucky’s shoulder, speeding up. He didn’t have to say it- Bucky knew he was close again. Bucky was suddenly very glad Tony had made the walls soundproof. Bucky held him close, biting into Clint’s shoulder so hard he started to taste blood. Clint bottomed out one last time, shuddering as he came. Bucky licked up his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.
Once Clint got his shaking under control, Bucky continued to move. Clint whimpered into his mouth, overstimulated. Bucky pet his head comfortingly. “Hold on, sweetheart,” He kissed his temple. Clint reached the hand that was holding Bucky’s leg to grab a hold of Bucky’s dick. Bucky hissed then whined from the contact, close to finishing himself. It only took a few strokes. Bucky dug his fingers into Clint’s shoulders, back arching and head pushing back into the mattress, “ fucking - shit.” Bucky spilled over their stomachs. He was just cursing at this point. He couldn’t think of anything else. Clint pulled out soon after, rolling over to give Bucky room to breathe.
The two stayed there, catching their breath. It took a good minute or two for Bucky to be able to come up with a cohesive thought. He looked over at Clint, scanning over his neck and shoulders. It was red and bruised. The bite marks he had left were wet and a few were bleeding slightly. Bucky felt bad for hurting him, but not that bad for leaving them in the first place.
Clint took longer to compose himself, but when he did, he let his head fall towards Bucky. He looked over Bucky’s face before breaking out into a sincere smile, “Hey.”
Bucky returned the smile and laughed, “Hi there.” He reached his right hand up to caress Clint’s face. Clint pressed a soft kiss to his palm.
“Oh-kay, I’m gonna get something to clean us up,” Clint sat up, normal goofy demeanor back in full swing. Bucky laughed as he stood and struggled to take off his leather pants which were now stuck to his body because of sweat. He tossed them with the rest of his outfit before stumbling to the adjoined bathroom, “I’m gonna have to get those deep cleaned later.”
He came back partially clothed and clean. He had a washcloth in his hand, climbing on the bed next to Bucky to clean him off gently. The cloth was warm and damp and oddly comforting when Clint so tenderly cleaned him. Bucky sat up to pull Clint down for what must’ve been their millionth kiss. Clint then handed him a pair of underwear, which he slipped on quickly. Bucky fully sat, shuffling to the edge of the bed where Clint was sitting to drape himself over his shoulders. He pressed a rough kiss to his cheek, “That was fun.”
“Fun?” Clint laughed, “You mauled me.” He motioned to his neck lightheartedly.
“If you think that’s bad, you should see your back,” Bucky replied sweetly. He patted Clint’s shoulder before climbing off the bed. “What do you want for dinner, I’m hungry.” He opened the door to see Lucky waiting patiently outside, tail wagging. Bucky patted his head, “Apparently Lucky is, too.”
Clint chuckled and stood to follow, “Yeah, yeah I hear ya.”
Notes:
Swear to god I believe the “He never misses” part is fucking hilarious I am a comedy genius.
Anyway I hope y’all enjoyed this dumpster fire of a fic and sorry for all the waits :P
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jinxed_toast on Chapter 1 Tue 25 Feb 2025 10:09PM UTC
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Save_Feza on Chapter 1 Wed 26 Feb 2025 03:23AM UTC
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jinxed_toast on Chapter 1 Mon 17 Mar 2025 07:58PM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 1 Fri 23 May 2025 08:09PM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 2 Fri 23 May 2025 08:13PM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 3 Fri 23 May 2025 08:21PM UTC
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stayherecar on Chapter 3 Mon 14 Jul 2025 11:59PM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 4 Sun 25 May 2025 06:24PM UTC
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jinxed_toast on Chapter 4 Wed 28 May 2025 04:10AM UTC
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jinxed_toast on Chapter 5 Thu 29 May 2025 03:10AM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 5 Thu 29 May 2025 09:19PM UTC
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Save_Feza on Chapter 5 Sun 01 Jun 2025 08:01PM UTC
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81lks (Guest) on Chapter 6 Sun 01 Jun 2025 10:41AM UTC
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Save_Feza on Chapter 6 Sun 01 Jun 2025 08:01PM UTC
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jinxed_toast on Chapter 6 Sun 01 Jun 2025 01:30PM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 6 Sun 01 Jun 2025 08:22PM UTC
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stayherecar on Chapter 6 Wed 16 Jul 2025 10:51PM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 7 Thu 05 Jun 2025 09:59PM UTC
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stayherecar on Chapter 7 Thu 17 Jul 2025 03:37AM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 8 Sat 07 Jun 2025 08:22PM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 8 Sat 07 Jun 2025 08:26PM UTC
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81lks (Guest) on Chapter 9 Wed 11 Jun 2025 03:10PM UTC
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Save_Feza on Chapter 9 Wed 11 Jun 2025 08:15PM UTC
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tkilyle on Chapter 9 Thu 12 Jun 2025 08:28PM UTC
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SharksWrath69 on Chapter 10 Wed 18 Jun 2025 12:48AM UTC
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