Shoulder kisses please 💜🩶
When Clint and Bucky started dating, it had been a slow, gentle process. They’d already been fucking, which was neither slow nor gentle, but that had had everything to do with adrenaline and the need to burn off excess energy. Things had shifted after the first time they’d accidentally fallen asleep together after several enthusiastic rounds of ‘oh god we nearly died but didn’t sex.’
It hadn’t been entirely unheard of for one of them to start to nod off in post-coital bliss, but if the sleeper belonged in that bed the other would make a quick escape, or there would be a gentle nudge and gesture towards the door.
But then they’d both fallen asleep, and slept through the night, neither disturbed by nightmares. When Bucky had woken up to sunlight streaming on his face — he always kept his curtains open, he liked to see the sky — the fact that Clint was wrapped around his middle, snuffling softly against his chest, had warmed him inside more than the sunbeam. So after Clint had finally woken up he’d asked if they could do it again.
Dating Clint had been surprisingly good. He’d kinda expected Clint to be a bad, or lackluster, boyfriend, and yeah, he had a habit of forgetting what the date was or showing up late after losing track of the time, but he was thoughtful and observant when they were together, and when they weren’t he did small things that showed he was thinking about Bucky. He picked up small trinkets that had made him think of Bucky, or sent him ridiculous snapshots of his day or random memes he found from who knew where — probably Kate.
All in all, Bucky felt cherished.
They had their rough moments, but on balance it was coming up good.
Clint started pressing little kisses on Bucky’s forehead and he just wasn’t sure how to deal with it. He was positive it was a comment on his height, so the first time it happened Bucky had shoved him hard enough he’d nearly fallen on his ass. Clint had taken in Bucky’s blush and laughed hard enough that he’d nearly fallen over again, and from then on never passed up an opportunity to do it again.
Bucky continued to bluster, to grumble about how he was a perfectly normal height for his time, it wasn’t his fault people had started to become giants, but secretly he loved each and every kiss.
He didn’t understand why Clint kept doing it, outside commitment to the bit, until it occurred to him that he was perfect height to press a kiss against Clint’s bare shoulder. Clint had amazing shoulders, from all the years of pulling that bow string, and Bucky had explored every inch of them with his mouth many many times. He’d mapped out every scar and freckle and could probably reproduce the constellations from memory.
But none of the compared to the early summer afternoon he walked into the common room and found Clint talking to Tony, his back to the hallway Bucky had come from. He was wearing one of those terrible shirts with the sleeves cut off, strings fraying and hanging all over, and Bucky was seized with the urge to press a kiss right against the ragged cloth edge.
Not one to deny himself anymore, he’d crossed the room silently and done just that, arms wrapped around Clint’s middle in a gentle squeeze and Clint had frozen mid-word.
“You okay there bird brain?” Tony asked when he didn’t resume his conversation. “Hello? Anybody home?”
Clint ignored the teasing and turned in Bucky’s arms, an incredibly gooey look in his eyes that made Bucky blush to see. Both of them uncomfortable with the amount of emotion that look implied they’d gone to their room to fuck about it instead of talk, without a single further word to Tony, who had yelled in mock outrage.
But Bucky got it now, what the forehead kisses meant. Because he felt the same rush of emotion whenever he bussed his lips over one of Clint’s shoulders, felt the words that he wasn’t ready to speak trying to tumble out of his mouth and seeping into the freckled skin with each kiss instead.
He’d get there one day, probably soon. But for now, he tipped his head up for a forehead kiss whenever Clint walked over, and pressed his own kisses against Clint’s shoulders.
