how abt Torn Apart by bastille (i’m on 13% rn but Honestly i can send u So Many songs in a bit if u want)
whyt he hell is this such a good song wha tthe fuck yes jordan ily
Bucky doesn’t notice Clint at first.
But then, the more time he spends with the Avengers, the more and more he gravitates towards him. He’s funny and interesting, and he doesn’t watch Bucky the same way everyone else does.
They all look at him like he’s gonna fall apart. Like he’s fragile, like he’s going to snap any second. And maybe Bucky is fragile, but he sure doesn’t like being treated like he is.
But Clint doesn’t do that. He pokes him when Bucky takes the last spoon, he throws fake arrows at Bucky’s head, he doesn’t act like Bucky’s arm is scary, or anything to fear.
It doesn’t become an issue until he’s laughing at something Clint says, and this feeling of warmth spreads over him, like sunlight and spring rain. It’s warm and happy and simple.
Oh, Bucky thinks, watching as Clint tosses a Cheerio into the air and catches it effortlessly. Oh. Shit.
So, after that, Bucky realizes that maybe he likes Clint a little more than he lets on.
It all comes to a head when he walks into Clint’s room one night and Clint’s just freshly showered (which, normally, Bucky would make a joke about, if only he could find his damn voice.)
Clint’s dirty blonde hair is still damp, and it flops over in his eyes a little, he’s wearing a Black Widow sweatshirt, and he’s blinking up at Bucky like he’s a child lost in the supermarket.
“Hi,” Bucky finally says, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet.
Clint nods at him a little and continues towelling off his hair. He points to his ear and shakes his head, and that’s when Bucky remembers that Clint wears hearing aids.
Bucky nods and gives Clint the friendliest smile he can. He knows that Clint hardly ever speaks to people when he doesn’t have his hearing aids in, and so he feels special, in a dumb sort of way, like Clint trusts him.
Clint finishes drying his hair and tosses the towel on his desk before flopping loudly onto his bed. He looks up from it and raises an eyebrow at Bucky before tilting his head at it, gesturing.
Bucky takes the non-verbal hint and sits down next to him. It’s a little awkward at first, until Clint grabs his shoulder and gently pulls him down, so they’re lying on the bed side by side, staring up at the ceiling.
Bucky turns his head to his left so that he can see Clint better, and he’s greeted by the sight of Clint smiling at him, eyes soft and happy.
And then because Bucky’s dumb and just a little bit reckless, he whispers a soft “I like you, you know,” taking in the way Clint’s blue eyes shine and dance in the light of the room.
Originally, his thought process is that Clint can’t hear him. What he doesn’t account for though, is the fact that Clint can still fucking lip-read.
But when Clint’s eyes widen in shock, and he scoots away, Bucky immediately realizes his mistake.
“Shit,” Bucky says, because he’s knows how to speak to women, knows how to talk to them, but Clint is Clint, and he’s not a dame, he’s funny and smart and lazy, and he’s managed to worm his way into Bucky’s heart with ease. Bucky knows how to talk to people, but Clint isn’t like most people, and Bucky wants this to work more than he probably should.
“Shit,” he says again. “Sorry.”
Clint is still staring at him like Bucky’s lost his damn mind, which, maybe he has, but Bucky might actually die soon if he doesn’t hear Clint say something.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky repeats. “You’re just. You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you never let anyone talk to you, but you like me, you talk to me, and it just. It feels nice, and I like you, and I might have gotten caught up. You don’t look at me like…like they look at me. You see me,” Bucky says, rambling. “You see me.”
And then Clint smiles, wide and happy, a grin that takes over his whole face.
“You’re an idiot,” Clint says, and it comes out soft, a little unsteady.
“Yeah,” Bucky says, and it feels like his heart is sinking right down to his ankles.
“And I think I love you.”
With that, Bucky looks up at Clint, as his heart leaps up to his chest. Clint is leaning forward, kneeling on the bed, one hand coming up to thread in Bucky’s hair.
“Okay?” Clint asks, his breath warm on Bucky’s lips.
Bucky nods, not trusting himself to talk, and he’s glad he doesn’t, because Clint leans forward and kisses him.
And god, wow, Bucky’s kissed his fair share of girls, but this feels completely and totally different, and not because Clint’s a guy, but because it feels like Bucky’s safe, like he can be who he is without any expectations or wants. It’s a lot to attribute to a kiss, but it feels good in a different sort of way, like Clint isn’t asking for anything.
The kiss is soft and gentle, that is, until Bucky loses his balance and Clint pushes him over, and then Clint’s straddling him, one elbow next to Bucky’s head, and the other wandering across Bucky’s stomach.
“Wait,” Bucky gasps out as Clint mouths against his jawbone, “Wait.”
And then Clint does, pulling back to look at him, concern and worry crossing his features.
“You okay?” Clint asks, and his voice is slightly deeper and rougher, which makes want burn deep in Bucky’s gut, settling there.
“Yeah,” Bucky says, a wide, dopey grin spreading across his face, “I just wanted to say that I think I love you too.”
And Bucky doesn’t need words to describe the look Clint gives him. He can see it in his eyes.
(He also doesn’t really need words for the rest of the night either, if he’s being totally honest.)
