Winterhawk as cowboys. Or just wearing cowboy hats. 💜💜💜
Click for better quality! Please do not repost. Re-blogging is very much welcomed! <3
COWBOYS. Thank you for this request @loonyloopylisa, we all know they'd be damn sexy as cowboys. Had a hard time with this pose, but I hope you like it anyway!
Also, special bonus for you below the cut. Let's just say I can't think about cowboys without also considering...this. (Warning for slight nudity! :P)
Movie star Bucky Barnes falls in love with his bodyguard, Clint Barton. ❤️❤️❤️
This one took me a while because, while I love the prompt, this isn't a dynamic I've ever really worked with before, so it took a while to wrangle my ideas into something I could actually write.
Also, although I kept it pretty lighthearted (I think), this one comes with some warnings:
Homophobia
Non-consensual outing as gay (prior to fic)
Homophobic hate crime
Canon-typical violence
Slight mention of extreme dieting and impossible body standards
If any of that stuff might cause you problems, you should probably avoid this fic.
*
Bucky’s never going to get used to seeing twenty foot posters of himself, abs out and glistening, glaring at the camera like it slept with his boyfriend. It doesn’t help that the pictures are photoshopped to hell and back. His abs have never been that defined in his life, even after three months of steamed chicken and workouts. He’s not sure that abs can be that defined without some sort of surgery.
The film isn’t as… gratuitous as the posters make it seem. Compared to the last few blockbusters he’s been involved in - there is no comparison. This film has heart, and he just hopes that it doesn’t flop like he’s afraid it will. It feels like a turning point, and not just because this is the first premiere he’s been to since the world found out he’s gay.
It’s hard to be a leading man in Hollywood if you’re out. It’s even harder when what you’re known for is playing action heroes who punch first, ask questions later.
He smiles for the cameras, answers a few questions with his best smile and optimistic look, but he’s always aware of the steady presence just at the edge of his vision. Clint has his serious face on today, aware that bodyguards are supposed to look the part. He says he channels Bucky’s trademark scowl, and he laughs when Bucky rolls his eyes. It’s good to know that someone here is on his side, though. Especially after the threats.
“What appealed to you about playing Robin Hood?” the interviewer asks and Bucky rolls out his usual response. “And how has coming out as gay affected your work?”
Bucky smiles through the urge to beat him to death with his own microphone. It’s not a question he hasn’t heard before. It’s been the main question on everyone’s lips in every interview since the pictures surfaced online the day before the biggest convention in the country.
“It’s been wild,” he says, smiling as carefree a smile as he can. “The response from the fans has just been overwhelming. I’ve had so much support. I’m so grateful that my fans are so amazing and that they’ve made this a positive experience for me. I can’t thank them enough and I want them to know that I love all of them.”
“And are there any prospective love interests on the horizon? We’ve heard that you and your co-star Brock Rumlow were getting pretty close on set.”
“Brock’s a great guy,” Bucky lies through his teeth. “Working with him on this film - he makes a great Prince John - has just been great. And I’m glad for the opportunity to meet him. But I hate to disappoint, there’s nothing romantic there.” No chance for any friendship, either, after Bucky found out exactly who leaked those photographs. “He’s happy in his current relationship, and I’m just happy to be living my life openly and with no more secrets.”
She says something more and then reels off into her outro for the interview, letting Bucky shuffle off to the next in line and more of the same questions.
There are kids with rainbow pins stretching out their notebooks for autographs and he signs them all, smiles and tries to say something to as many as he can. He never asked to be a role model to queer youth, but that’s where he is.
His fingers and his cheeks ache by the time Clint rests a firm hand on his shoulder and starts to guide him further along again.
“That went pretty well,” Bucky mutters to him, although he feels drained.
“You’re doing great,” Clint tells him and gives a double thumbs up. “And you look way hotter than Rumlow.” He winks.
Sometimes Clint says something like that and Bucky’s mind takes a detour down roads he should have blocked off years ago.
“Barnes!” Rumlow calls out, and Bucky can’t let the spike of annoyance show on his face, not with the camera flashes and camera phones all around him.
“Brock,” he says with the broadest smile he can manage.
“Let’s get a few of us together,” Brock says, and steps towards Bucky, stopped only by Clint turning into the way, a bland smile. He looks Clint up and down. “Your guard dog’s a bit eager today. Call him off.”
“It’s fine, Clint,” Bucky says. He knew this was coming anyway. Brock’s a jackass, but he’s a fan favourite. Photos of the two of them together, pretending to like each other, will be great for the film. So Bucky swings an arm around Brock’s neck before Brock can take control of the pose, and turns to the cameras with his best smile.
“How’ve you been?” Brock asks. “I heard you missed out on a spot in that new spy thriller going around.”
Bucky knows the film Brock’s talking about, he wouldn’t exactly call it a spy thriller. More a desperate love song to American firearms. Brock’s right, though, it’s exactly the kind of role that they usually tap him for and he hasn’t heard a thing. Bucky doesn’t know whether to be grateful or concerned.
“I’m thinking I might go back to my roots,” Bucky says, remembering the Best Supporting Actor Oscar that sits in his trophy cabinet. Everything had seemed so full of possibility back then, before he’d ended up in the action movie factory and scripts had slowly dwindled down to one liners between punching people in the face.
Robin Hood had been an attempt to move away from that. A costume drama, a script that was more than just fight scenes and explosions, an actual political statement. Now even that’s a minefield.
“Yeah, probably best to stick to the roles you’re more suited for,” Brock says, the smile never dropping from his face.
And there it is, the sting in the tail. People are going to say he shouldn’t be an action hero because he’s gay, because he’s not ‘manly enough’ and they’ll claim he can’t play straight enough with the lead actresses - that the romance can’t be believable - and he feels like he should prove them wrong. But he’s been trying to get out of that rut for years, but if he makes it out - he feels like he’ll be betraying everything by agreeing with the stereotypes.
“Mr Barnes,” Clint says, “We should keep moving.” his voice remarkably professional if you didn’t know it was his best impression of Bucky’s voice from The Final Death. He especially likes to quote Bucky’s most famous lines. It’s very annoying.
But today it feels like a life raft in the middle of an ocean swarming with sharks, and Bucky takes it gratefully, letting Clint guide him out of the mess of people who all want their pound of flesh.
“You’re doing great,” Clint mutters, in his own voice again. “Just remember - No one can stop the Winter Soldier.”
Bucky glares at him, but mostly because that’s what he does when Clint echoes his stupidest lines. It had used to feel like mockery, now it feels like friendship, like the two of them are in on some stupid joke together.
Bucky wants to walk right through and out the other side, but he’s not going to. His sister Becca’s inside, waiting for him and-
The sound of smashing glass hits at the same time Clint slams into him. He knocks Bucky to the ground. He’s saying something that Bucky can’t make out, and grabbing Bucky, half pushing, half pulling him over to the side - to cover, Bucky thinks numbly - staying between Bucky and the window, gun drawn.
“I’ve got Barnes. I can only see one shooter. Can anyone confirm?”
Someone beyond the window is shouting slurs. Bucky catches a glimpse of a man being tacked to the ground by security guards before Clint pushes him back against the wall.
“Stay down!” he hisses. Bucky tries to catch his breath. His brain still a mess, trying to piece things together because it doesn’t make sense. He’s had death threats, but they weren’t… No one was going to pick up a gun and try to kill him. He’s just an actor. He punches out stunt guys and makes terrible faces and says dumb one-liners in a voice that makes him sound like he’s been chewing gravel. He’s not the kind of person someone shoots down in the street. And there are people out there - kids, who came here for him, and they're out there being shot at and-
“Is everyone okay?” he asks. Clint turns to him. “Is everyone okay out there? Did anyone get hit?” He twists and tries to look out of the window again, but Clint shoves him back.
“Stay down,” Clint tells him. He looks more serious than Bucky’s ever seen him before, and there’s… there’s blood on his hand where it’s pinning Bucky against the wall. Bucky thinks it’s his for a second before he realises that there’s no pain.
“You’re shot,” he says.
“I’m fine,” Clint tells him.
“You’re bleeding,” Bucky says, reaching for Clint’s jacket.
“Stop moving,” Clint tells him. “Seriously. I’m fine. We need to wait for the all clear.”
“We need to stop you bleeding,” Bucky counters, pulling back Clint’s jacket and wincing at the red spreading over the crisp white shirt. “Shit.”
“It’s a graze,” Clint says.
“You are not a medical professional.”
“I’m wearing kevlar. I’m fine. It didn’t hit anything important,” Clint says.
“You’re important,” Bucky points out and Clint blinks, staring at him like Bucky’s speaking in a different language.
“Look, when we get the all clear, we’ll both get checked out by the paramedics, okay?” Clint says, slowly.
Bucky lets out a long breath and nods.
“Fuck, Barnes. I know your career’s in the toilet, but this is some fucking stunt,” Rumlow’s voice bursts out.
Bucky pushes to his feet as Rumlow stalks across the atrium towards him, but Clint’s already there - then there’s a blur of movement as Rumlow stumbles and twists, crashing headfirst into the wall.
“You need to be more careful, Mr Rumlow,” Clint says. “I mistook you for a second assailant.”
Rumlow’s nose is pouring blood, and probably broken and he’s swearing at Clint.
“Just doing my job, Mr Rumlow,” Clint says. “Sorry.”
Rumlow is pulled away by his own security team, who give Clint unpleasant glares, and Bucky steadies himself. His hands are shaking. Clint turns to reach for him.
“No one in the crowd seems to have been hurt,” he says, and Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. He never wanted to put anyone in danger. “And it looks like there was just one idiot with a gun out there, so we’re good.”
“You’re still bleeding,” Bucky points out and Clint sighs, as though being reminded of the fact that he’s been shot is somehow tiresome.
“I know, I know. You’re a mother hen. I’ll get it checked out. But you need to be, too. You’re probably in shock.”
The EMTs find them and are very amused by the way they keep shoving each other forwards to be checked over.
Bucky tries not to stare as Clint strips off his jacket, shirt, kevlar vest, and undershirt so the EMTs can see the bullet wound. He seems unconcerned by the partial nudity as the nurse pronounces it a graze, more interested in giving Bucky a triumphant look.
Bucky tries to respond in as normal a manner as he can.
His phone is blowing up - his sister, his ma, Steve, Natasha. As soon as he’s sure that Clint’s not going to die and the EMT has pronounced him understandably shaken, but otherwise perfectly healthy, he steps to one side to call them back - his sister first, as she’s around here somewhere - but he doesn’t let Clint out of his sight.
“I don’t need hospital,” Clint is protesting as Bucky's talking to Steve.
“Hang on a second,” Bucky tells Steve, striding over. “If they say you should go to hospital, you’re going to the damn hospital.” Clint looks at him.
“It’s barely a scratch.”
“It’s a bullet wound,” Bucky tells him.
“It’s a little bullet wound,” Clint argues.
“Can I come with him?” Bucky asks, bypassing Clint altogether to speak to the EMT, who nods. He turns back to Clint.
“We’re going to the hospital,” he says. He puts the phone back to his ear. “Steve, I’m gonna have to-”
“I heard,” Steve says. He sounds amused.
“Is Clint being shot funny to you?” Bucky asks.
“No,” Steve says. “Just the way you two bicker like an old married couple. You should offer to kiss it better, Buck.”
“Steve-” Bucky says.
“Just go and hold his hand, you know you want to,” Steve says, talking over Bucky’s protests. “I'm just glad you're okay. Tell him I say thanks for saving your dumb ass.” Bucky says something that makes the EMT’s eyebrows fly up their forehead and Clint laugh brightly, until he clutches his side in pain.
“Okay, laughing is bad,” Clint says, his face crumpling.
“Idiot,” Bucky mutters, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Stop hurting yourself.”
“I’m fine,” Clint repeats. “This is nothing.” He stretches out his torso and points to a puckered scar on his abs and Bucky tries valiantly to pay attention to what Clint’s saying and not the way every breath he takes makes his abs flex slightly. They look better than Bucky's ever do. “This one,” Clint says, tapping the scar. “I got stabbed by this woman with a crazy-ass curved knife. I was in surgery for three hours after she tried to rearrange my insides.”
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?” Bucky asks. The EMTs start to lead them over to the ambulance.
“I’m just telling you how hard it is to kill me,” Clint says. “So you can stop worrying.”
“I’m not worried,” Bucky denies automatically. The EMT hides a cough behind her hand as she closes the ambulance doors behind them.
“Sure you aren’t,” Clint tells him with a wink. “I knew you liked me really.”
“Do you know how much work it is to find a new bodyguard?” Bucky asks. “If you get yourself killed there are all sorts of forms I have to fill out.”
“You have people to do that for you,” Clint says. A smile is spreading across his face, which seems highly inappropriate to Bucky, although when has Clint ever been appropriate. “You’re worried. Because I got shot.”
“Most people would consider that a reasonable response,” Bucky points out, crossing his arms over his chest. “Steve says thank you, Becca says you should ask for a raise, and my ma wants to hold a parade in your honour.” Clint beams even more broadly.
“I love parades,” he says. “Can there be fireworks?” he looks a little spacey and Bucky turns to the EMT in the back with them.
“I gave him some painkillers,” he says, looking between them with poorly concealed amusement. “He’s probably going to be out of it for a while.” Bucky breathes a sigh and feels the adrenaline draining away from him.
“Aw, you shouldn’t look sad,” Clint tells him, reaching out a hand to pat him. “You’re awesome. Rumlow’s a dick. I can’t believe you ever fucked that guy.”
“I-” Bucky looks at the EMT who mimes locking their mouth and throwing away the key. His publicist is going to have a field day with the NDAs. “Clint.”
“I mean, sure he’s hot, but he’s the worst,” Clint says. “And you’re Bucky Fucking Barnes, you could have anyone.”
“Clint,” Bucky repeats. His head is starting to ache and he doesn’t have the energy for this right now.
“You’re awesome,” Clint says again, with a slight urgency to it, like it’s important Bucky knows this.
“I’m awesome,” Bucky repeats, and Clint smiles bright and sunny, and then his head falls back and he lets out a massive snore. Bucky looks over at the EMT who gives a slightly helpless smile.
“Uh…” Bucky says.
“Not going to say a word,” the EMT says. “Me and Stacey already had to sign NDAs to work the premiere tonight. We won’t tell anyone about Brock Rumlow - or about you two.” He waves a hand between Bucky and Clint. “It’s cute.”
“We’re not-” Bucky starts, and the guy grins.
“Hey, I’m bi,” he says. “You have any idea how cool it was when you came out. I mean… it was shitty that someone posted those pictures without your permission, but the fact you just owned it?” Bucky feels uncomfortable at the sheer emotion on the guy’s face. He hadn’t ever meant to be that. Not to anyone. He’s a shitty role model. He does dumb things like sleep with Brock Rumlow, and then get photographed with some guy hired by Brock Rumlow and plastered all over the news. He makes stupid films and never calls his ma and… Now there’s some guy looking at him like he means something and Bucky doesn’t know what to say.
“I’m glad I helped,” he says. It feels insipid.
“You more than helped, and I’m sorry some jackass tried to shoot you and shot your friend instead. Just because you were brave enough to be who you are.”
“Thanks,” Bucky says.
“So I’m not going to say a thing about you or your boyfriend,” the guy says. “You deserve nice things, and he-” the EMT points at Clint, who is still shirtless- “is a nice thing.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says, “he is.”
*
By the time the police are done with him, Steve and Becca have converged on the hospital like wolves and they are forced out of Clint’s room by the nurses who don’t care that two of them are movie stars, the patient needs to rest.
Becca’s still in her premiere outfit, and Bucky feels horrible that she got all dressed up just to come to a hospital and sit on the uncomfortable plastic seats and drink terrible hospital coffee. But on the other hand, he’s glad she’s here.
“I can’t believe someone managed to get that close to you with a gun,” Steve’s saying. “There are supposed to be security measures in place to stop that happening.” Bucky pinches at his nose, trying to will away the headache that’s still growing behind his eyes. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. He just wants to sleep, but he can’t sleep while Clint’s in the hospital and-
“How do you sack a guy who saved your life?” he asks.
“What?” Steve says, his footsteps faltering.
“How do you sack a guy who saved your life?” Bucky repeats.
“Why do you want to sack him?” Becca asks. “You should be promoting him.”
“Because he wants to sleep with him,” Steve says. Becca’s eyes go wide.
“You are not allowed to break his heart,” she says, glaring at him. “Don’t you dare, James Barnes. Ma will kill you. If you sack him just so you can sleep with him after he saved your stupid life, I swear James Barnes-”
“I’m not going to-” Bucky draws in a breath. “It’s just… I-”
“Huh,” Steve pulls out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Bucky asks.
“Texting Sam, I owe him a hundred bucks. He said you’d figure it out this year.”
“Were you betting on me and Clint?” Bucky asks.
“Technically, I was betting against you,” Steve says, not looking up from his phone. “I didn’t think either of you would make a move.”
“I can’t believe you,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “So how do I do this?”
“Start with the part where you want to bang him like a gong,” Becca says.
“That would be sexual harassment,” Steve interjects and Bucky takes a deep breath. “He can’t say that until after he sacks him.”
“True,” Becca says, tapping one finger against her lips. “You could always try a line from one of your movies.” Bucky and Steve both look at her, incredulous. “Right, too cheesy. You could-”
“You know what?” Bucky says, cutting her off. “I’m going to figure this out on my own.”
*
In the end, it isn’t Bucky who brings it up. He goes to visit Clint the next morning, coffee in hand and is greeted by a tense look and words that make him freeze in place.
“I’m resigning,” Clint says.
“What?” Bucky asks. “Why? You-”
“It has been brought to my attention that my behaviour yesterday was a little…” Clint scratches at his head, avoiding Bucky’s gaze. “Unprofessional.”
“You saved my life, that’s literally what you’re paid to do,” Bucky says. “How is that unprofessional.”
“Not that,” Clint says his face screwing up a little. “What I did to Rumlow. Unprofessional. You’re really not supposed to assault people, even if they are dicks.”
“Did you get in trouble?” Bucky asks. “I can have a word with-”
“It’s not that made him headbutt a wall,” Clint says, sounding tired. “It’s why I made him headbutt a wall. I…” he pauses. “Oh fuck, I’m a bad lifetime movie. Except queer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I broke Brock Rumlow’s nose because he was mean to you,” Clint says, the words bursting out of him in a sudden unstoppable stream. “I was kind of mad because someone shot at you, and then he comes in and accuses you of being responsible for the whole thing and I just…” He shrugs helplessly. “So I have to resign because I’m supposed to be protecting you from guns, not from getting your feelings hurt, and I thought I was doing pretty good at not being distracted by your ass, but apparently I… uh… get a little carried away.”
“You get distracted by my ass,” Bucky says slowly. Clint’s eyes open wide and there’s red blooming over his cheeks.
“Can you forget I said that? I’m still on the good drugs.”
“They took you off them last night,” Bucky says. “I… You’re resigning because-”
“Because I like you too much to be objective,” Clint says, sagging into the bed. He looks awful, like he’s barely slept and so utterly dejected. Bucky looks at him speculatively.
“I offer a very generous severance package,” Bucky says. Clint stares at him, looking even worse, if anything. “And… now that you’ve resigned.” He swallows and nods to himself. He can do this. “If you wanted to go out sometime, to dinner maybe?” Clint blinks again.
“Like a date?”
“Yeah. If you want,” Bucky says, shrugging.
Clint grabs his hand and pulls, yanking Bucky half off his feet and onto the bed. It’s more of a headbutt than a kiss - at first - but Bucky takes it as a yes. A very enthusiastic yes.
If his publicist has to send out a few more NDAs to the nursing staff, as far as Bucky’s concerned, it’s absolutely worth it.
Prompt: the avengers lose at an avengers themed trivia night
“How the fuck did none of us know Clint’s middle name?”
“It’s redacted on all his official paperwork,” Steve said, taking the martini from Tony’s hand before another emphatic gesture caused the vodka to slosh over the rim. “The address of his apartment building in Bed Stuy is part of the public record, but his middle name? Not so much.”
“That explains why you don’t know it.” Tony frowned and reached for his drink, scowling when Steve did not hand it back. “It doesn’t explain how little Miss Secret Agent over here didn’t know it.”
“I knew it,” Natasha said. She held Tony’s stare over the rim of her drink as she took a dainty sip. “I was just sworn to secrecy years ago.”
“Oh and keeping Clint’s secret is more important than our team’s honor?”
“Of course.” Natasha reached out to tap her knuckles against Clint’s. “Bros before hoes.”
“Did – did you just refer to Earth’s Mightiest Heroes as hoes?”
“Heh, her-hoes,” Clint said, earning another fist-bump from Natasha and an eye-roll from Bucky.
Tony pinched the bridge of his bridge of his nose. “So Steve only knows facts about us that he can read in our files, the Assassin Twins over there are apparently think secrets are more important than winning, and no one else here gives enough of a shit to learn Barton’s middle name.”
“Rude,” Clint muttered.
“Accurate,” Bucky replied.
“What I still don’t understand,” Tony interrupted, “is how Girl Scout Troop 616 fucking knew that Clint’s middle name is Francis!”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Clint said. He pointed at one of the gangly teenagers who was proudly taking a selfie with her Captain Marvel action figure. “Marnie lives in my building. She was there when Kate got super pissed and Full Named me at a barbecue.”
“Kate knows?!”
“Of course,” Natasha said with a smile. “I told her.”
Bucky shakes his head, pointedly not looking at the twelve arrows stuck in the center of the downrange targets. Clint had shot the last three at once, like a fucking show-off, and Bucky had found it way more attractive than he really should’ve.
He shakes his head again. Focus.
“You are,” Clint says delightedly. “You’re jealous of my mad archery skills. Afraid I’m gonna take down your record?”
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t count, you’re using a different weapon—”
“It’s based on amount of targets and accuracy, not how they’re hit. That record’s mine.”
“No, it’s not—”
“JARVIS!” Clint calls. “What’s the obstacle course record?”
The polite voice echoes through the room. “The current record is two minutes, twenty-six seconds, with a target clearance rate of ninety-five percent.”
Clint grins at Bucky. “And who holds that record?”
“Currently, that record is held by Captain Rogers.”
“Ha, I told you—wait, what?”
Bucky stares up at the ceiling. “Steve? Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure,” JARVIS says, in a tone that Bucky privately thinks is way too sarcastic for a robot. “The record belongs to Captain Rogers.”
“That rotten bastard,” Clint says. “When the hell did he do that?”
“Now who’s jealous?” Bucky asks, and Clint makes a face at him before picking up his bow again.
“I’m not,” he says. “But I say we go beat the hell out of that, then make jokes about him being old and slow for the rest of the night. You in?”
Bucky grins. “I’m so in,” he says. “But you know I’m gonna kick your ass too, right?”
Clint snorts. “I’d like to see you fucking try.” But he’s grinning, a delighted look sparkling in his eye. “You’re on, other old man.”
“Set it up, JARVIS,” Bucky calls, and goes to pick up his gun.
I’m not sure if I reread the fic if this would be my absolute favorite, but the one that jumps immediately to mind is when T’Challa tells Bucky, “No one should be forced to bear the mark of their oppressors.” It just sums up a lot of things for me about how Bucky is forced to reckon with his history as the Winter Soldier, what T’Challa knows about oppression, just ... everything. Even in a shorter fic like this I needed Bucky to have his Wakandan arm because he deserves it!
6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?
Well, first of all this was an auction fic for the lovely @kangofu-cb who is the heart and soul of the Winterhawk fandom. Even though they support so many people, when I arrived in the fandom they were so amazingly supportive and enthusiastic and amazing, and they still beta for me even though I have no idea where the time comes from. This was my first ever fake dating fic as well, I believe! And, most of all, it was a really sucky 2020 for health care workers, which both @kangofu-cb and I are, so it was especially nice to be able to provide a little joy to another health care provider at such a rough time!
11: What do you like best about this fic?
Aw, man, Clint Barton’s Low Self-Esteem is like the third character in all my fics, and my biggest kink is people (::cough:: Bucky ::cough::) helping Clint see that he is actually smart and capable and loving and worthy of everything he wants, and so there was a lot of self-indulgent boosting of Clint’s self-esteem in this fic. I also do really like how the sex scenes worked with the mood of the fic -- having Bucky turn out to be less sexually-experienced was a little bit of a surprise to me but I think it worked.
“Can we please stop running? I think I’m dying.” for Winterhawk 💜💜💜
“Come on, Clint, we have to move!” Bucky keeps his hand locked around Clint’s wrist, pulling him along as they run.
“They’re not even close anymore, Bucky,” Clint pants, hand pressed to his ribs inside his jacket. “Can we please stop running? I think I’m dying.”
“You’re not allowed to die on me, sweetheart,” Bucky says, slowing slightly.
“Yeah?” Clint asks, somehow sliding out of Bucky’s grip and slowing to a walk. “Was that in the contract?”
“Third page, second paragraph,” Bucky jokes. Clint leans up against the wall, chest heaving and eyes closed.
“I really need to start reading the fine print,” Clint mutters. “Damn super-soldier stamina, how are you not even winded?”
“‘S like you said, sweetheart,” Bucky grins, grabbing Clint’s hand and tugging him off the wall. “Super-soldier stamina. Now c’mon, we’ve rested long enough.”
“We’re not all blessed with super-soldier serum,” Clint grumbles, but he allows Bucky to pull him into a run again.
“I’m blessed enough for the both of us,” Bucky tosses over his shoulder.
Clint just grunts in response. Pulling his hand out of his jacket, he sneaks a look down, wincing when he sees the blood. He slides his hand back into his jacket and presses it against his ribs, sucking in a breath when he feels fresh blood slide over his fingers.
“You okay back there?” Bucky asks, squeezing Clint’s hand.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winterhawk - Fandom
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Barney Barton/Laura Barton
Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Barney Barton, Laura Barton, Barton Kids, Harold Barton, Tony Stark (minor)
Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, There was only one bed!, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Friends to Lovers, very light D/s, Barney & Laura are married, The kids are theirs, References to physical abuse of a child, Some Humor (hopefully), Some angst
Summary:
You know that social media post where the guy says he’s a felon and he’ll come terrorize your family for Thanksgiving in exchange for a free meal? Yeah, that’s what this is. Except that Clint is Clint, and Bucky is Bucky, and they’re both Avengers, but Clint’s family is a bunch of assholes and Bucky decides to help him out with that. Oh, and it’s Christmas, not Thanksgiving.
We are talking lofty, sky high, you can go anywhere dreams here I assume so that’s what I went with!!!!
1. ANYWHERE BUT HERE I am so tired of being stuck at home like everyone is tired of this I KNOW but I am extremely very tired of it.
2. Greece! I have never been and I think it looks lovely and specifically I would like to go to the coast, I want to relax on the beach and drink local cocktails and eat local food and be relaxed and mildly intoxicated at all times.
3. Budapest. This is @chronicwhimsy‘s fault. I deeply want to go to a club in the ruins and I also would like to go to a bath house, especially if there is a gay cruising scene as rumored.
4. Japan, because I never outgrew my anime-inspired love of Japanese culture, I would still like to go!
5. In theory I would like to backpack across Europe but also I hate backpacking and being dirty, so I would somehow like to get the ‘see many places, do many things’ experience of Europe without the like. Hostels and griminess, and general lack of creature comforts. I would like a rich person’s tour of Europe, please and thank you.
