NAFTK Winterhawk Remix. 100 words. Very cracky. This drabble does not meet anyone's prompt requirements at all.
A/N: I mentioned in a few places that I initially couldn't decide if I was going to write NAFTK as a Bucky/Reader, Bucky/OFC, or Bucky/Clint. I think the Winterhawk version would have been a lot shorter, in retrospect. You know, maybe around 100 words. You probably don't need to have read NAFTK to understand this drabble, but it might help. Anyway, enjoy. 😉😊
Summary:
What if it'd been Clint on the sex-pollen mission with Bucky?
“You threw it wide!” hisses Bucky.
Clint makes a shocked Pokemon face. “Lies! I never miss!”
“Oh, so you meant to break open the jar of sex pollen?”
“Of course not, you jackass, I don’t need to resort to sex pollen, I had every intention of wooing you properly!” snaps Clint.
Bucky stares at Clint.
Clint stares at Bucky. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” groans Bucky, right before he jumps him.
Some time later:
“Thank god neither of us can get pregnant,” says Clint.
“No shit,” agrees Bucky. “That would be a whole different story.”
<-Previous Drabble -=- Drabble Masterlist -=- Next Drabble->
“How many more days?” Clint’s already in bed, doesn’t have his aids in, but he knows there’s a whine in his voice.
Bucky’s too small on the screen of his phone – too far away to kiss, to hold him while he falls asleep – but his smile is soft. “Two more sleeps and I’ll be home,” he says and signs together. “It’ll be early, I may even make you breakfast.”
“As long as there’s coffee and you, you can wake me as early–” A jaw cracking yawn breaks off Clint’s thought. “Love you,” he says instead.
St. Patrick's Day Winterhawk drabble for @mandatoryfunday
AO3 Link
“Clint, it's green,” Bucky groaned and held the mug up to the light.
“Yeah, but it's Saint Patrick's Day! We're supposed to drink entirely too much green beer, wear green clothes, and all that stuff. I even got you a hat.” Clint beamed and shoved the most hideously green leprechaun hat at him.
Bucky eyed the hat with even more disdain than he had the beer. He already had on the shirt Clint bought him, the one that had a shamrock, a rainbow, and the words “Magically Delicious” printed across his chest. Clint was relentless when it came to making sure Bucky had fun and cut loose. He was good for him like that. In the end, he never failed to sucker him in with his ridiculous puppy dog eyes.
Bucky made a show of grumbling, but put the hat on and stood up, mug in hand. “Let's go then, before I change my mind.” He had to fight to keep a neutral expression on his face when Clint looked this happy. When he turned to get Lucky's brand new green leash on him, Bucky let himself smile. He had it bad and Clint knew he couldn't say no to him.
They walked down to 5th Avenue to watch the parade, fingers laced together. They shared the oversized mug of green beer, and took turns holding onto Lucky, even getting in on a couple of selfies with people who recognized them. Being an Avenger was weird, but it was a good weird. Weird in the best way, just like Clint Barton. His chest still got the warm and fuzzies every time he looked at him, and he reckoned it always would.
“What?” Clint asked after catching him staring during the walk home after the parade.
“Nothin’. I'm just feeling a little lucky right now,” Bucky replied.
“If you play your cards right, you'll be more than just feeling lucky.” Clint tugged his hand to stop him, snaked an arm around his neck and put on his most over-the-top seductive gaze. “I'm not Irish, but kiss me anyway?”
Bucky just rolled his eyes, but grinned like a smitten idiot as he pressed their lips together. “Barton, you're absolutely ridiculous, but I love you. Thanks for making me come tonight.”
“That's what she-”
“Shut up.” Bucky laughed the rest of the way home, stealing kisses along the way. He finally remembered what it felt like to be completely happy. Yep, he was definitely lucky.
Summary: Clint texts Nat his secret desires for a certain super soldier, only he’s off by one digit...
Word Count: 2577
“Hey Steve, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah Buck, what’s up?”Steve replies without looking up from his book.
“Umm, what do you say back when someone texts you ‘I just want to lick him from the bottom up or maybe the top down. IDK I just want to lick him!!’?”
Steve slowly lowers his book. “Excuse me?”he asks. If he raises his eyebrows any higher they’ll disappear into his hairline. “Who the hell is that text from?”
“I have no idea. I don’t recognize the number. It’s obviously a mistake. But…” Bucky gets a mischievous grin on his face. “...what if I have a little fun with whoever it is, can’t hurt right?”
Steve has been trying to get Bucky to open up more. He’s been so down and depressed lately it seems nothing can make him smile. That little grin he just gave was the first he’s seen in a very long time. Maybe playing along with this wrong number could be a welcome distraction.
“You don’t know them and they don’t know you. Sure, have a little fun. Might do you some good, pal.”
“I don’t know what do say. Got any suggestions? I don’t want to scare them away with one text.”
“You’re asking me?? This sounds more like a job for Tony, or Nat.”
“Oh no! I’m not getting them involved. I’ll think of something.” Bucky heads back up to his floor. Maybe if he has a some privacy he can think of something good to reply. He’s way out of his depth here. He’s not even sure if this is coming from a male or a female. His response needs to be just as vague if he wants to make this into a game and amuse himself for a little while, at least.
He flops down on the bed, makes himself comfortable and unlocks his phone. Okay, here goes nothing, he thinks.
JBB: You can start from either direction but I’m sure you’ll want to linger when you reach the middle
Now to wait and see if they take the bait. He’s already second guessing himself. What is he going to gain from this except possibly embarrassing a total stranger. Then again, if you’ve never met the person how embarrassed can they possibly get?
He didn’t have to wait long for a response. The notification made him jump slightly. He wasn’t expecting it to come that quickly. He actually felt a little nervous as he swiped the screen.
Wrong Number: OMG you have no idea. What I wouldn’t do to see what he’s packin.
JBB: Thought about that a lot have you?
Well, they obviously still think they contacted a friend. Now to try to figure out if this is a woman, or better yet, a guy. This could be even more fun if it turns out to be a guy. He has to think of some way to get them to reveal, or at least hint at, their gender. Maybe the next response will give him something to work with.
WN: You know damn well I have. Not like it’s a secret how ridiculously hot he is.
JBB: Why don’t you just tell him how hot you think he is? What could possibly happen?
Maybe the answer to that question will give him some insight. Although, he’s not really sure what he’ll do with the knowledge if he figures out this person’s gender. What’s he gonna do if it’s a guy, ask if he wants to find out what he’s packin’ next? Yeah, that’s not creepy at all. He’s so out of practice with this flirting thing he’ll probably end up embarrassing himself anyway.
WN: WHAT? Did you really just ask that?? He could beat the living shit outta me. THAT’S what could happen!!!
And there it is! It’s a guy. It better be a guy. If it’s not then the ridiculously hot guy is also a giant piece of shit that potentially beats on women. Getting in the middle of something like that would be unfortunate. Bucky would have to seek out Hot Guy and beat the shit out of him just because.
WN: I mean come on now the guy is a maniac and a little unhinged, but so goddamn sexy. That arm… and those thighs! At least if he tried to crush me to death with those, I could go out happy
Arm? So Hot Guy only has one arm? Or maybe one arm is tattooed and this guy has a tattoo kink. So many questions and really no way to ask them. This is going from fun to frustrating pretty quickly.
JBB: Sounds like a good way to go. But, maybe he thinks the same thing about you. Ever think of that possibility?
WN: Did you hit your head really hard in training today? Should I come get you? Do you need medical attention?
JBB: I’ll take that as a no then.
WB: You’re acting weird. I’ll see you at breakfast. If you wake up, ya know, being concussed and all. Night
Damnit! There goes that. When whoever this is meets their friend for breakfast they’re going to know they’ve been texting the wrong person. Guess I’m in for some pissed off messages tomorrow morning, Bucky thinks to himself and he stares at the last text. Oh well, one more message won’t hurt, right?
JBB: Well it was nice talkin to ya. Good luck with Hot Guy. Night
There was no response after that. He must have finally scared him away. It might have been fun if he could have kept it going for a few days but, come morning, the deception will be revealed.
He sighs, puts his phone on the nightstand and rolls over. After a couple hours of tossing and turning he finally falls asleep.
~~~~~~~
When he wakes the next morning he feels like he didn’t sleep at all. He feels like he lost a friend, which is insane. He talked to this guy for 10 minutes, has zero clue who he is or what he looks like. Maybe it’s just the fact that he had someone, that wasn’t Steve, to talk to. Trying his hand at talking to someone outside the Tower seemed like a good idea. If he ever wants to be able to go check out the city by himself, and not scare everyone with his murder stare, he needs to work on his people skills.
Bucky drags himself out of bed and takes a quick shower before heading down to the common area kitchen. Steve will already be there. Questions about the mystery texter will probably be forthcoming, Great just what I want to deal with first thing in the morning. As soon as he sees the smirk on Steve’s face when he reaches the kitchen he blurts out “There’s not enough coffee on the planet to deal with you in the morning, Rogers.”
“Oh come on, Buck. Out with it. What happened?”
“Nothing. Just drop it. Here comes Clint. I don’t need him chiming in.”
“Uuuuuuugh! Coffee. Now.” Clint groans as he makes his way to the coffee maker, He doesn’t even bother with a cup; he starts drinking right from the pot. How does this guy function on his own? He seriously needs a handler. Just as Bucky finishes that thought Natasha comes strolling in. Nevermind, there’s his handler now.
“Seriously, Barton? There are other people that live here. Can you try to not be so disgusting this early in the morning?” Nat scolds the acher like he’s her child. Not that he doesn’t act like one on a regular basis. It’s actually kind of adorable if Bucky were to think about it, which he tries not to, He has a hard time around people as it is. Attempting a relationship would only end in disaster. But he has to admit he’s caught himself checking out the archer’s biceps, a few times, when they’ve been training.
“Gimme a break, Nat. I had a weird night. No thanks to you.”
“Me, what did I do?” she asks. ”You’re the one that said you had something to get off your chest. When I didn’t hear from you I figured you changed your mind.”
“WHAT? I was texting you. You responded! What the hell are you talking about?” Clint is completely confused. How can Nat say he didn’t text her. If it wasn’t her that he was talking to, who the hell was it?
“Oh Barton, you simple creature. You broke your phone again, didn’t you?” she asks.
“Yeah, so what if I did? I know your number by heart. 201-555-669…” Clint starts but gets interrupted.
“Nine,” Bucky finishes. It all makes sense now. Arm, training, maniac, unhinged. He looks at Clint with a mixture of shock and hurt.
“Oh my god! NO!” Clint shouts and runs from the room as fast as he can.
Steve and Natasha look at each other then they both look at Bucky. Natasha is the first to ask the question that’s on both of their minds. “Okay, what the hell is going on right now? Please tell me that idiot didn’t text you thinking it was me.” She face palms and lets out a long sigh. “How bad is this, and do I need to contact the city morgue and let them know they should hold a spot?”
Bucky doesn’t respond right away. He looks up to the ceiling like he’s trying to summon the strength to deal with all of this. He takes deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I hoped you all would give me chance to prove I’m not the THING Hydra made me into. I know I haven’t made it easy but I didn’t realize I was still seen as an unhinged maniac.” He pushes himself back from the table and begins to get up. “I’m sorry. I need to get some air.”
“Buck, wait. Don’t go. No one thinks you’re an unhinged maniac. That’s just not the case.” Steve can’t believe anyone on the team would think that way about his friend.
“Yeah well, do you want to read the texts? Clint was very specific.” Bucky huffs as he throws his phone on the table. “The password is Hawkeye,” he says over his shoulder as he storms away.
Steve watches as Bucky leaves. He wants to call after him but thinks he should give him some space, along with the fact that he’s a little stunned by what he said on his way out. Nat seems just as shocked. She pretty much figured out that Clint had it bad for Bucky; but she had no idea that the feelings were mutual.
“Ummmm… I feel like I’m in some weird dream. Did that really just happen?” Steve asks.
“Yes, it happened. Yes, it’s weird. But…”, Nat thinks for a moment then continues. “...it’s not the worst thing in the world.”
“Excuse me? My best friend thinks he’s seen as an unhinged maniac. How is that NOT the worst thing in the world?”
“Not that part, Rogers,” Nat sighs. Dealing with these stupid boys can be exasperating to say the least. “The part where Clint and Bucky are into each other. I think they would make a perfect couple.” She pushes herself back from the table. “Now to fix this disaster before blood is spilled.”
“Hold on.” Steve grabs her arm. “You take Clint. I’ll go find Bucky. See if you can get him back down here. I’ll do the same. Maybe we can get them to talk this out.”
“Okay, text me,” she says, as she gets up from the table. “Make sure it’s the right number,” she adds with a smirk.
~~~~~~~~~
Clint ran to the roof. That’s where he goes to think, or sulk— in this case he’s doing both. He can’t believe how stupid he is. This might be the biggest mistake he’s ever made. Something as simple as a wrong number might have just cost him a friend. The worst part is, he didn’t mean what he said. He’d never intentionally hurt Bucky like that. The look of betrayal on his face when he realized it was Clint talking about him like that was soul crushing. Even though he wishes he could take it back, it’s not likely he’ll get that chance.
Just as he’s trying to decide if he should pack up and head back to Bed Stuy for a while, he hears the door to the roof open. ‘Great. Here comes Nat, like I need her to tell me what I already know.’
“Look, I know. I’m an idiot. I could’ve had something incredible and I destroyed it before it even started.” Clint continues to ramble without turning around. “I didn’t mean what I said. Maybe if I wasn’t such a coward and told him how I felt, none of this would’ve ever happened. I don’t want him just because he’s beautiful to look at, he’s an amazing person with a good heart. I wish I could tell him how sorry I am.”
“You just did.”
Clint whirls around so fast he almost falls backward over the edge of the roof. Bucky rushes forward to grab him.
“Jesus Christ, Barton!” Bucky shouts, as he pulls the archer back from his impending doom. “You confess your feelings, apologize, and then try to jump off the roof before I can kiss you and tell you I accept your apology? What the hell are you trying to do to my heart!?”
“I didn’t try to jump off the roof. You scared the crap outta me. I thought you were Nat coming up here to tell me… wait… did you just say you wanted to kiss me?”
“Yes, and if you’d shut the hell up for 5 seconds, I’d do it.”
“I’m shutting up now.”
Bucky pulls him close. He stares into Clint’s eyes for a moment, before whispering his own confession.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
It’s the most amazing kiss Clint has ever experienced. He feels like he’s going to pass out. The feeling of being in Bucky’s arms is more incredible than he could have ever imagined. They’re so caught up in each other they missed the door to the roof opening.
“OH HOLY SHIT!! MY EYES!!” Tony takes a step back while covering his eyes. “ROGERS!? ROMANOFF!? Come get your kids. They’re out of control!!” he yells. “Seriously, you both have your own FLOORS here. An entire floor, EACH. Pick one and for the love of all that’s holy, go there… now!” He turns on his heels to flee the sight in front of him and runs right into Steve and Natasha.
“Tony, what the hell? FRIDAY said you were screaming for us.”
Tony points at Bucky and Clint. “Get those two horny bastards off my roof. They’re scaring the pigeons.” he demands as he pushes past Steve.
“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about getting them to kiss and make up, huh?” Nat quips.
“Nope, looks like they’ve got that covered.”
“We can hear you, ya know?” Bucky says as he glares at the pair. “Now go away. Clint isn’t done apologizing.”
Bucky turns his attention back to Clint “Now, I believe you mentioned something about licking?”
Clint’s eyes widen and he smirks, “So, would you prefer I start at the bottom, or the top?”
“Doesn't matter, as long as you linger in the middle,” he replies with a wink.
Clint Barton is a general mess. If you’ve known him for at least an hour - you would figure this out quicker than you would figure out that he absolutely plays for the other team. For Bucky - it took the ex soldier approximately 54 seconds.
He was walking out from the pharmacy three blocks away from steve and his apartment, carrying a plastic bag with tylenol and all those necessary shit you would need for everyday normal life.
What he didn’t expect was to hear grunts of pain and profanity from the alley that he passed by - next to an archery practice centre.
Bucky turned the corner, bracing himself to see the unexpected but he was taken aback to see a jumping guy around his age, dodging punches and giving a kick to a stomach of a much burlier and scary looking man.
The guy had blonde hair and he just couldn’t stop moving ... it made Bucky stop his rescue plan because it seemed like this guy knew how to handle himself.
He spoke to soon because soon the blonde guy was on his back with blood dripping down the side of his mouth and - shit that sound - a gun cocking.
He stepped in as quick as he could, forgetting the pharmacy plastic bag and taking out his own weapon. A pocket knife.
What? he had issues.. he knew that.
“Drop the gun, man”
The knife’s edge was at the guy’s neck.
The burly guy growled - yes, like a god damn animal and dropped his gun.
Instead of scrambling away like a smart person - the blonde guy cheered and started laughing.
Bucky had his eyebrows raised but he didnt take a knife off the burly guy’s beck.
“Now scram before i call the cops” Bucky said threateningly.
The burly guy glared at him before walking away, giving one last glance at the blonde guy.
Bucky pocketed his pocket knife and observed the damage in front of him.
Which was well.. the blonde guy.
“Aw man, that was amazing! Thanks!” The blonde guy stood up and brushed dirt of his jeans like he wasn’t just about to get shot.
He picked up the gun, observed it and grinned again.
“I should keep this - Nat would want it for her collection”
Bucky looked at the gun and scoffed.
“If your friend collects guns, that aint anything special. Just a normal gun”
“You know guns huh?” The blonde guy asked, eyebrows raised in interest.
He smiled - less manically and more attractive this time and Bucky would have stumbled back from that smile if he wasn’t rooted to the spot.
“You could say that” Bucky shrugged.
“So, you wanna impress me with your knowledge on firearms in a cafe somewhere?” The blonde guy asked, keeping the gun anyway - and was now looking at him expectantly.
Again, Bucky was taken aback. This guy had a split lip, a bruised eye, his hair was in a complete disarray and cuts littered his arms. He had a bandage on the side of his cheek! God, he was a mess.
Bucky gave him an answering smile back.
This time, the blonde guy did stumble back, his hand on his chest where his heart would be.
“Aw heart, it’s like you haven’t seen an atttactive guy in your life” He groaned, rolling his eyes.
Bucky surprised himself by laughing at the ridicoulousness of this guy.. who he still hasn’t found out his name.
“What should i call you?” He asked, still smiling - god it’s been a long time.
“Clint Barton - and yes I look like this 23 hours of the day” He nodded, sticking his hand out.
Bucky took his hand and shook it, not letting go completely because wow - this man was a complete mess.
“Bucky” He replied simply.
They were smiling at each other like a pair of complete fools. What an image they would make.
“So tell me Bucky, do you usually go around saving tragic blondes?” Clint asked.
They were walking out of the alley now and towards a cafe on the other side of the road.
Bucky almost laughed at the hilarity.
“I don’t know, do you usually go to dates with your heroes?”
“Oh so you’re my hero now huh?” Clint asked, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly.
Bucky sighed. “God, you’re gonna be a handful aren’t ya?”
Clint winked, “I think you can handle me, Mr Hero.”
Peter Quill, Natasha Romanoff, Rocket, Background Winterhawk. 100 words exactly. Dancefloor is one word, I will hear no argument. The title is inspired by today's @societynsoelsscribbles' June Jukebox prompt of Come and Get Your Love by Redbone, but does not appear in the drabble itself, unless you want to think it's what they're dancing to. This drabble does meet the requirements for @juneofdoom's prompt of "How long have you been like this?", if the powers that be are okay with a switch of pronouns.
Summary:
Peter is oblivious, Rocket is single-minded, and Natasha is protective--to a point, of course. Bucky and Clint just keep dancing.
Peter Quill is not easily shocked.
(This is a lie. Peter Quill is always easily shocked.)
"How long have they been like this?" Peter demands, gesturing to the dancefloor.
"Who?"
"Them! Out there! Barnes and Barton!"
"They're dancing," says Nat, a dangerous, warning tone in her voice.
"That's not dancing, that's clothed floor sex."
"They hooked up two years ago," says Nat, amused since Peter sounds more annoyed than scandalized. "You only just noticed?"
"Yeah, he's an idiot," says Rocket. "They seem pretty into it. Think I can steal the arm while they're distracted?"
"No," says Nat. "But try anyway."
<-Previous Drabble -=- Drabble Masterlist -=- Next Drabble->
Bucky’s alone in the kitchen, snacking on a sandwich, when Clint comes in behind him. “Hey Buck,” he says. Then he goes to the cupboard, snags a coffee mug, and licks all the way around the rim. He grins at Bucky then puts it back in the cupboard. “Someone keeps stealing my favorite mug. But that should be enough of a deterrent. I licked it. It’s mine now.” He winks before he heads back to the elevator.
“I have so many questions,” Bucky says to no one.
*
“Bless you,” Clint says, a teasing yet somehow reverent tone in his voice.
“All I did was carry the pizzas from the door to the table,” Bucky says dryly. He drops the boxes onto the table where Steve, Sam, and Clint wait to dive in.
“You paid the delivery guy,” Clint protests.
“Not really. I put it on Stark’s tab.”
They all laugh.
Clint opens up the top box, gives the pizza inside a quick appraisal, then leans over and runs his tongue over the biggest piece. “Ow! Is hot!” he says, frantically searching for his drink.
The guys are all making overexaggerated retching noises. “Why, Clint? Why?” Sam asks.
Shrugging, Clint says, “It’s the biggest piece. I licked it--it’s mine now.”
Sam sighs. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to use your words?”
“You could have just pulled it out of the box,” Steve says.
“Nah. Too hot.” He winks at Bucky, who stares back, unblinking.
But inside Bucky’s reeling. What had that been about?
Steve groans. “You are such a child, Barton.”
“Maybe. But no one’s gonna eat my pizza.” His grin is smug.
*
Clint’s newest example of childish behavior goes on for weeks. He licks forks, bacon, coffee cups, cupcakes, the tv remote (which Tony immediately sprays with some kind of industrial strength disinfectant), and--oddly enough--his arrows.
“Do you really think someone’s going to steal your arrows?” Natasha asks wearily.
“I saw Barnes eyeing them. Didn’t want him to get any ideas.”
Bucky freezes but he doesn’t see anyone looking at him; they’re all pleading with Clint to start acting like the adult his birth certificate says he is. He outwardly relaxes, but inside he’s having an argument with himself.
Because he hadn’t been looking at Clint’s arrows. He’d been looking at Clint.
Honestly, he’s been looking at Clint for awhile now. When they sit together drinking coffee in the morning, when they’re playing video games or watching movies, when they’re all just hanging out together, laughing. But especially when Clint is shooting. Because Clint shooting his bow is a fucking work of art. How could he put his eyes anywhere else? Those arms, he wants to feel them around him, to let his cheek rest against those…
He shakes himself out of his thoughts, actually giving his head a single, sharp shake. This is not the time, definitely not the place.
“Alright there, Buck?” Steve’s hand falls onto his shoulder, gives a squeeze.
“Fine,” Bucky says, a little too fast and a little too loud. Steve gives him an odd look but drops his hand. Then Clint’s eyes flick in his direction and Bucky spends entirely too much time wondering about the look on his face. Clint had only looked for a fraction of a second--what had he seen?
*
After that it gets both better and worse. It seems like Clint starts waiting for Bucky to arrive before he licks something. So while Clint seems to be everywhere, it also means that Clint is making Bucky absolutely crazy. Once again, just before he licks his favorite playstation controller, he even winks in Bucky’s direction. Bucky thinks. He’s pretty sure it had been a wink. But Tony, Nat, and Sam are in the room too, and no one else reacts at all. (And he knows if Tony had seen anything as overt as a wink he’d have a lot to say on the subject.)
He nearly chokes on nothing when Clint winks at him. (Again. Winks again.) Somehow he manages to turn it into an odd, clearing his throat kind of noise. When he regains himself he looks at Clint and says, “You’re going to catch some awful disease if you keep licking everything, Barton,” in a bland voice.
“You’ll just have to take care of me then,” he teases.
Bucky somehow manages to hold his face completely still. He can feel the heat rising in his neck, though, and hopes no one notices.
*
Bucky’s alone in the kitchen again, this time drinking coffee, when Natasha comes in and sits on the stool next to him. He just sits, drinking his coffee, attempting to think about nothing at all. After a few minutes Nat clears her throat. Bucky doesn’t react, curious how far she’ll go to get his attention.
It’s not long before he finds out.
“Fine,” she says, as if she’d known all along it would go this way. And in one fluid movement she’s off her stool and on to his lap, straddling his legs, her face directly in his.
She tends to get what she wants. Now he can’t avoid looking at her, unless he closes his eyes; for a fraction of a second he considers it, but then just gives in. Sighing heavily he says, “What do you want, Natasha?”
“He’s daring you. Either accept his challenge or back away. The rest of us can’t take it anymore. I think Tony’s going to have a breakdown, worrying ‘has Barton’s tongue been here?’ about everything.” She takes his face in her hands and kisses him on the forehead. Then, before he can find a response, she’s gone.
“Wait, the rest of us?”
Of course there’s no answer. She’d probably heard, though. He can picture the smirk on her face.
So everyone’s already--
Wait. She’d said--
Well. If it’s a challenge, then challenge accepted.
*
Of course, now that Bucky’s made up his mind he can’t seem to find Clint anywhere. He doesn’t come down for breakfast--not even for coffee, he must be getting his fix elsewhere--and he doesn’t go to the range at his usual time. Bucky gets wrangled into helping Tony with something in his lab (which actually means “stand here and hold this, just like that. It’s too heavy for the clamps”) so he misses lunch on the common floor and throws together a couple sandwiches before he gets cornered by Sam and ends up playing video games with him for the rest of the afternoon. By the time he gets to the common floor for dinner (a mandatory team dinner called by Steve, as if they don’t spend enough time together already) he’s mostly talked himself out of saying anything at all.
But then he walks in and there’s Clint, perched on the back of his chair, laughing along with everyone else at something or other. Bucky doesn’t pay much attention, because right then Clint turns his way, and when he sees Bucky his eyes light up and he grins and Bucky instantly forgets all his arguments for staying quiet.
He wants Clint to smile at him like that every single day. Over and over again.
His plan had been to get Clint alone, or as alone as they could get on the common floor, and just get his feelings out in the open. But seeing Clint like that, laughing and carefree and oh-so-beautiful he dumps the plan and turns off his brain. He strides over to Clint, puts his hands on Clint’s chest (he can feel Clint’s heart beating so fast in his chest, and he wonders how he hadn’t heard it even on the other side of the room) and licks up Clint’s jaw, from his chin to his ear.
“I licked it,” he says, in a strong voice, loud enough that everyone in the room can hear. “I licked it, so now it’s mine.”
“Yeah?” says Clint. His eyes dance with mischief.
“You gonna argue with me?” Bucky glares, but he’s holding laughter just below his skin and he’s sure Clint can see it all over him.
Clint’s arms slip around Bucky, and it’s far better than anything he’d ever imagined, but he doesn’t have long to think about it because Clint’s tongue darts out of his mouth and across Bucky’s lips. He pulls back, grinning. “I’m not really the arguing kind,” he says, “but I’m definitely laying claim to that mouth of yours.”
And then he’s not thinking at all, because Clint’s lips are pressed against his, and then Clint’s tongue is in his mouth.
“Finally,” mutters Natasha.
“Are you kidding me?” Tony shouts. “I’ll never be able to unsee that!”
“What just happened?” says Steve.
Everyone laughs. Even Bucky and Clint separate enough to laugh (just enough) before they find each other’s lips again.
“Come on, Steve. You must have noticed these two making googly eyes at each other. Even Bruce noticed.” Nat is incredulous.
“I did!” Bruce says.
“We’ll let them work that out on their own,” Clint murmurs, low enough that only Bucky can hear. (Steve can probably hear it too, but he’s too distracted to notice). “Wanna go for a walk?” And then he winks. Again.
Clint’s hand slides down Bucky’s arm until their fingers are intertwined. They’re walking toward the elevator when Steve shouts, “Mandatory dinner!”
“Stevie. We could stay and make out on the sofa if you’d rather we didn’t leave,” Bucky says, not looking away from Clint.
“Have a good time!” says Natasha. She sounds almost gleeful.
“Oh, we will,” Bucky says, but only for Clint.
***
for the @mandatoryfunday prompt “I licked it so it’s mine.”
for @pherryt ...because this is all her fault!!!!! 😜
Natasha Romanov sees things. She watches. It’s not surprising, really, given her upbringing. She’s often the first one to arrive purely out of habit, and although she doesn’t hide exactly, she’s very good at making herself seem like part of the backdrop even when she’s just being herself. Even in the Tower she probably knows more than anyone else, just because she pays attention.
Except maybe Barton. But he has certain...blind spots.
It’s morning in the Tower, and Nat’s been watching her teammates stumble into the communal kitchen in various states of alertness for the past half hour. She’s sprawled on the sofa, reading a book, but she’s fairly certain no one has seen her yet. Steve’s first, and Sam’s only a few steps behind. They both look like they’ve been working out already, either in the gym or out running. They’re far too cheerful for the early hour, Steve poking fun at Sam and Sam dishing it right back.
“...six more laps than you today,” Steve says as they come in. “How many am I up on you now? Seventy three?”
“One seventy three,” Sam says, looking pained. Then he grins. “Say Cap, that’s almost how old you are, isn’t it, old man?”
Steve winks and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re just jealous of how good I look in my old age.”
Sam snorts.
Bucky comes in next, silent and broody. Not actually brood-ing, she notices--he actually has the gleam of a smile in his eyes as he starts the coffee brewing--he just wears the dark, angsty look like a cloak. Once the coffee is done he sits at the breakfast bar, alternately sipping and staring into his mug.
A few minutes later, when Sam’s busy frying bacon and scrambling eggs and Steve’s making toast with instructions not to burn it this time, Bruce and Tony come in, chatting animatedly about something they’ve been working on in the lab. Tony’s walking backwards so he can keep facing Bruce, gesticulating wildly throughout the conversation. He backs all the way into the counter; at that exact moment the toast pops up and he turns, snagging a piece. “Excellent,” he says, taking a bite. He looks at Steve. “Needs butter.”
Steve glares with mock sternness, but before he can say anything Bruce says, “Manners, Tony.”
Tony looks chastised, and says sincerely, “Sorry, Cap. Thanks for the toast, I’ll ask next time.” Then he ruins it by winking. Steve rolls his eyes, then laughs.
Sam starts plating the eggs and bacon and Steve adds the (now buttered) toast. They’ve made enough to feed an army--or a handful of Avengers. Everyone scrambles for silverware and stools, jostling over who’s going to sit where.
“Coffee?” Bruce asks.
Bucky holds up his mug, silently asking for a refill.
“Juice for me,” says Sam, heading for the fridge.
“And me,” says Steve, pulling two glasses out of the cupboard.
“Yes on the coffee,” Tony says, settling onto his stool.
Bruce reaches up to the shelf where the mugs live, grabs one and reaches for a second. As his fingers grip the handle he hears a low voice say, “Not that one.”
He turns, surprised, to look at Bucky. “What?”
Bucky just looks at him, his gaze steady. After a long pause he says again, “Not that one.”
“Alright, Bucky. Whatever you say.” He says it like a kindergarten teacher would say to a student she didn’t have the energy to argue with. He grabs another mug, then looks at Bucky as if to ask, Is this one alright? Bucky nods.
Natasha looks at the forbidden mug, then at Clint. He’d come into the room about 90 seconds before, padding as silent as a cat. She sees the dawning comprehension on his face, the wonder.
Outside she’s as impassive as ever. Inside she’s grinning, shrieking. Finally! Honestly, I thought I was going to have to bang their heads together to get him to see what’s right in front of his face.
Clint looks at Natasha (of course he sees her, he always sees her) and signs, How long have you known?
She grins, satisfied, and signs back, A lot longer than you have.
He shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and joins the others in the kitchen.
“Coffee,” he moans, breathing in the scent as he pours himself a cup. He sits on the stool next to Bucky, hands wrapped around the heat of his coffee, and says in a low voice, “Thanks for saving my mug.”
Bucky’s shrug is nearly imperceptible. “It’s the biggest one. Your favorite.”
“I’m just...surprised you noticed.”
Even from her vantage point across the room Natasha can see the slight flush that creeps up Bucky’s neck and across his cheeks. “I pay attention.” He looks up into Clint’s eyes and adds, “To you.”
Clint’s dopey smile makes her want to cheer.
He finally seems to realize that maybe he should say something instead of just sitting there grinning like an idiot. “I’m...uh...I’m heading to the range for some practice. After another cup of coffee.”
Bucky snorts. At Clint’s quizzical look Bucky says, “Another pot of coffee, maybe.”
“Yeah, alright.” The ridiculous grin is bigger. “But...uh...to the range? You wanna come? With me?”
“Wow, Barton. That was almost a complete sentence.”
It’s Clint’s turn to turn pink. Nat almost laughs.
Bucky moves his hand across the counter until their pinkies are just touching. “Yeah,” he says. “With you.”
“With you,” Clint echoes. He sounds surprised.
Natasha stands and stretches, lightly making her way to the kitchen. “Morning boys,” she says.
Tony jumps at the sound of her voice. “Holy heart attack, Widow! You should wear a bell.”
