For @winterhawkbingo Round 5, Square O5: First Aid Done Poorly
Ao3 Link
Bandaid:
"Hawkeye, we need eyes at 3rd and Flagler," Steve called over the comms. "These things are swarming and we need a clear route to get the civilians into this parking garage."
"Got it Cap," Clint said, abandoning his nest and taking off at a run. The intersection was two blocks over, but luckily the buildings in the Miami metropolitan area were relatively close together. He fired a grappling hook arrow and leapt off the roof, tucking his bow close to his chest and angling his body for a roll as he flew through the air. He rolled twice as he hit the neighboring roof, releasing the cable and using his remaining momentum to sprint across the roofs on this block.
As he reached the end of the block, he fired another grappling hook arrow at the roof of the much taller building across the street. He pressed the button to retract the cable as he leapt, letting the mechanism carry him up. Unfortunately he hit the building before the cable finished retracting, but luckily he didn’t go through the window and was able to let the arrow bring him all the way to the top.
Wrapping his fingers over the edge of the building, Clint flung himself the last couple of feet over the edge and dropped the cable. It would take too long to dislodge the grappling hook from the building, so he’d have to come back for that later.
From there it was a straight shot across the block of buildings to reach 3rd and Flagler, so he didn't bother nocking another grappling hook arrow as he sprinted across the roofs. With just one more roof to go, Clint flung himself across the small gap between the buildings.
"Oh shit," he had time to yelp as he realized this roof was about five stories lower than he'd expected. At least he hadn't been planning the same tuck and roll procedure he'd used earlier, he had time to think before landing. He let out an involuntary bark of pain as he felt his leg snap and sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. Well, it could have been worse. It could have been his neck.
"Hawkeye?" Steve's voice asked in his ear piece. "Are you all right?"
"I'm good," Clint said with a probably unconvincing grunt, given the rapid string of Russian swear words coming over the comms. "I'll have eyes on 3rd and Flagler in a minute," he said, popping his bow into the staff position and using it to lever himself to his feet.
"Bucky, provide backup at Clint's location," Steve said when Natasha finished swearing.
"I said I was good, Cap," Clint protested as he limped as fast as he could across the rooftop, using his bow-turned-staff as a crutch and forcing himself to ignore the shooting pain in his leg with every step. This was gonna suck as soon as the adrenaline wore off.
"Nobody believes you, Hawkeye," Bucky said, sounding slightly winded. "I'll be there in five."
*
By the time Bucky got to his rooftop, Clint had taken care of most of the swarm, picking off the beetle-bots that got a little too close to Steve or Natasha’s groups and letting them herd the panicked civilians into the parking garage. Clint wasn’t entirely sure why Cap had chosen a parking lot as shelter, but hey, he wasn’t the star-spangled man with the plan. He was just here to shoot things.
“Hey Bucky,” Clint said as casually as he could manage, picking off another one of the beetle-bots before turning to glance at Bucky.
“Hey Clint,” he answered with a frown, eyes flicking from Clint’s face, down to his leg, and back up to his face. “This your definition of ‘fine’?”
Clint shrugged, trying to ignore the waves of pain radiating up his leg. “I’m still standing.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, muttering “barely” as he leaned over the balustrade to scope out the situation. He fired a few shots from his rifle before turning back to Clint. “That should hold them for now,” he said, still frowning. “Let’s get you sitting before you fall over,” he said, holstering the rifle and reaching towards Clint.
“I’m fine,” Clint insisted, mostly because the thought of moving sounded more painful.
Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You’re white as a sheet and look like you’re about to pass out.”
“See, I’m fine,” Clint said with a grin that turned into a grimace when Bucky moved to pluck the bow out of his hands.
“Ground, now,” Bucky said brusquely, placing Clint’s bow on the ground with a gentleness that felt out of place with his tone. When Clint didn’t move, he slipped his hands under Clint’s arms, lifting and pivoting Clint to lean his back against the balustrade.
Clint got with the program then, doing his best to breathe slowly so Bucky wouldn’t realize how close he felt to actually passing out. Judging by the look he was giving Clint, he wasn’t doing a particularly good job of it, but with Bucky’s help he managed to end up seated on the ground with his left leg sticking out in front of him. Bucky frowned at the angle of Clint’s leg, shaking his head as he stood up and turned his attention back to the intersection.
“Watch my back,” he said gruffly, unholstering his rifle and taking a few shots.
When Clint leaned over to reach for his bow, a pair of handguns dropped into his lap. A few seconds later a box of ammunition followed.
“They’re loaded, don’t shoot yourself,” Bucky said when Clint picked up the guns.
“I do know basic firearm safety,” Clint snapped, checking to make sure the safeties were on. They were – Bucky hadn’t dropped a couple of live weapons in his lap. “And what’s wrong with my bow?” he asked petulantly, knowing full well he couldn’t get a good draw on the longbow at this angle.
“You can’t get a good draw in that position, and if you don’t know that you need to give me back those guns.”
“No, I know,” Clint sighed when Bucky looked down at him.
“Good,” Bucky said, turning his attention back to the street and firing a couple of shots. “And do something about that leg before you pass out from shock.”
*
A few minutes that felt approximately like four millennia later Steve gave the all clear over the comms. Clint took a second to scan the ring of dead beetle-bots surrounding them on the roof before he re-engaged the safeties on Bucky’s handguns and laid them on the ground, barrels facing away. He let his head slump back to bump the wall and let out a heavy sigh.
“How’re you doing?” Bucky asked, stepping over Clint to pick up his guns and tuck them away. He squatted next to Clint and gave him an assessing glance, frowning when his eyes reached Clint’s leg. “What is that?”
“You told me to take care of it,” Clint said with a halfhearted shrug. “I didn’t pass out from shock and successfully covered your rear. I took care of it.”
“Clint,” Bucky said, expression slowly morphing into a dead-eyed stare that Clint suspected had been the last thing a lot of people saw before being murdered by the Winter Soldier, “that is a bandaid.”
“Yep,” Clint confirmed, popping the ‘p’. “It’s a Dog Cops bandaid. Tony gave them to me.”
Bucky ground his teeth and Clint wondered if he was about to get murdered.
“Clint, your leg is at an angle that human legs should not be at. When I told you to take care of it, I expected you to maybe, I don’t know, elevate it? Splint it with something? Not stick a Dog Cops bandaid on the outside of your pants!”
“Oh,” Clint said. That did actually make a lot more sense. “Well, you should have been more specific.”
Bucky scrubbed his hand against his face. It sounded like he muttered “what am I going to do with you?” before he tapped his comms unit and barked out a request for Sam’s assistance.
“We’ve got a lot of civilian injuries down here,” Sam replied, voice echoing between Bucky’s comms unit and Clint’s earpiece. “Can it wait until Natasha brings in the quinjet?”
“Clint thought putting a bandaid on the outside of his pants would fix a broken leg,” Bucky said flatly.
“I’ll be right there,” Sam said, raising his voice to be heard over the loud string of Russian curses.
“Maybe you could kiss it better,” Clint suggested to Bucky in the silence after Natasha finished her tirade.
Bucky rolled his eyes, but planted a soft kiss on Clint’s temple. “Better?” he asked.
Clint smiled, tipping his head back to lean it against the wall and closing his eyes. “Definitely.”
For @winterhawkbingo Round 5, Square O2: In Vino Veritas
Ao3 Link
Lift:
The first time Clint ended up on Bucky’s floor was entirely by accident. The button for Bucky’s floor was directly below the button for his floor, and he’d hit the wrong one after getting back to the tower from an extended mission, eyes blurring with exhaustion. He’d been awake for about sixty hours straight, only upright and conscious thanks to the liberal application of caffeine.
When he stumbled into Bucky’s rooms he was half drunk with exhaustion, mind barely registering the fact his couch wasn’t in its normal place to the left of the door. Everything seemed to be in muted shades of grey, and he bounced off the armchair that had suddenly appeared in the location his couch normally was.
At that point Clint couldn’t be bothered to care and made his way to the bedroom, dropping pieces of gear in a trail behind him as he went.
His bed had moved a few feet over – Clint wondered if Tony was pulling some kind of weird prank on him – but he couldn’t find the motivation to care about that either as he collapsed into it face-first, asleep within seconds of his face hitting the pillows.
Clint woke up to somebody poking him sharply and repeatedly in the calf.
“G’way, lemme sleep,” he mumbled, rolling over and wrapping the blankets more tightly around himself.
The poking stopped and Clint vaguely registered a set of footsteps walking around the bed before finding himself hauled roughly off the bed and dumped on the floor. He was struggling to free himself from the blanket burrito to yell at whatever teammate had rudely thrown him out of this own bed when someone dumped a pillow on his face.
“I don’t know why you’re here, but you can sleep on the floor,” he heard Bucky growl.
“Why am I here?” Clint yelled, finally freeing his arms from the blankets to throw the pillow at Bucky, “Why are you here?”
Bucky caught the pillow with one hand and stared at Clint like he’d grown another head.
“Because this is my bedroom?”
Clint looked around in confusion before registering the fact that nothing in this room belonged to him. It was far too clean, for one thing, and there wasn’t nearly enough purple.
“Aww, bedroom, no,” he whined, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling in despair.
“Go back to sleep, Barton,” Bucky said, tossing the pillow back at his face. “You clearly need it.”
Clint opened his mouth to argue before deciding the better of it and tucking the pillow under his head and rolling back up into the blanket. If he had to do the walk of shame back to his floor, he’d rather do it after a full night’s sleep.
*
The second time Clint ended up on Bucky’s floor was also more or less an accident. He made the same mistake again - pressing the wrong floor’s button – but this time he’d been distracted by a heated discussion he was having with Natasha.
She raised her eyebrow when he hit the button, but didn’t say anything as he continued to rant about Reinhold in SciTech and his penchant for leaving his dirty socks outside the showers in the SHIELD locker room.
“It’s unsanitary and I’ve nearly killed myself about three times now slipping on them on my way to the shower!” Clint was yelling as he walked off the elevator. He nearly ran into Bucky, who was staring at him with confusion.
Clint returned the look of confusion until he glanced past Bucky and noticed the rest of the room. The rest of the room that was definitely not his living room.
“Aww, floor seventy-three, no,” Clint sighed, shaking his head as Natasha snickered at him. “Sorry Bucky, I must have hit the wrong button again. At least I’m not sleeping in your bed this time?”
“Small victories,” Bucky said dryly.
“I’ll take what I can get,” Clint told him. He had a vicious bruise on his elbow from slipping on Reinhold’s socks this morning, and he was lucky he hadn’t brained himself on one of the shower stalls. He was going to take any small victories he could.
“Low standards are important, I suppose,” Bucky commented, looking pointedly at the elevator door. “Are you going to go to the correct floor now, or were you planning to join me for disc golf?”
Clint perked up at the thought of playing disc golf with another sniper. “You’re going to play disc golf? Really? And we can join?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re far too excited about this. But yes, I suppose you can join if you want to.”
Clint pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!” he crowed, suddenly happy to have hit the button for the wrong floor. “Large victories!”
*
The third time Clint ended up on Bucky’s floor he was wheeled in by Tony.
"Birdbrain here decided to jump out a window again without arranging transport," Tony informed Bucky as he pushed Clint into the living room and parked the wheelchair next to the couch. "The rest of the team is headed to an Assemble, but somebody isn't supposed to be putting any weight on those legs and has a long history of escaping medical. If anyone's going to be able to keep him out of trouble it's you," he said, marching back out of the room before Bucky could respond.
Clint shrugged when Bucky turned and gave him a questioning look. "Not sure why Tony thinks that," he said, disengaging the brakes on his wheelchair and making his way towards the kitchen. "I mean, your track record isn't that great. You never managed it with Steve, even before he got all full of muscles. You got any pizza in here?"
Bucky trailed in after him, looking a bit dazed. "Not everyone keeps their fridge full of pizza, you know."
"Yes, but those people are wrong," Clint said, frowning at the contents of Bucky's fridge. "Do you eat anything besides chicken?"
"Says the man who would eat nothing but pizza if given the option."
"Pizza is great," Clint said, shutting the fridge. "We should get pizza."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "I think there might be a frozen pizza in th- hey, no standing!" he snapped when Clint pulled open the freezer and started pushing himself out of the chair. "What part of 'no weight' do you not understand?" he asked, pushing Clint back down and keeping a firm grip on his shoulder.
"It was only for a second," Clint argued. "I wanted to see if there was pizza."
"There is... barbecue chicken pizza," Bucky said after peering into the freezer, hand still a warm weight on Clint's shoulder.
"Again with the chicken," Clint moaned, flopping his head backwards dramatically. "Can we please order pizza? I promise I'll be good if we can order pizza."
Bucky looked down at Clint looking unimpressed. "No escape attempts if we order pizza?"
"And watch a movie?" Clint asked, widening his eyes and smiling up at Bucky as he tried pressing his luck.
"No escape attempts for pizza and a movie?"
Clint shook his head, trying his best to look endearing. It must have worked because Bucky sighed and said, "okay, fine, pizza and a movie".
Clint pumped his fist and wheeled himself back into the living room. "Can we get mushroom pepperoni?" he asked, grabbing the remote from the coffee table and turning on Bucky's TV. "Or maybe that mediterranean one with the olives and the feta? Or both? Let's do both. Hey JARVIS, can you order a large mushroom pepperoni and a large mediterranean pizza from that place with the space cats on the takeout menu? And an order of cheesy garlic bread?"
He looked at Bucky who had a dazed expression on his face again.
"And a large pesto chicken pizza for the chicken-obsessed super soldier," Clint added. Pizza and movie night with Bucky was going to be awesome.
*
The fourth time Clint ended up on Bucky’s floor was entirely JARVIS’s fault. He’d stumbled into the elevator after a bit too much revelry and announced “fly me to the moon, Jarvy, my man!”. Apparently, JARVIS took that to mean Bucky’s floor, which was entirely on JARVIS and had nothing to do with the fact Clint was falling over and hitting elevator buttons at random because he had tried to out-drink Thor.
In retrospect, that was maybe a little bit on Clint. Maybe.
*
The fifth time Clint ended up on Bucky’s floor was much like the first. He’d only been awake for about forty-eight hours this time, but at the end of it they’d busted a child trafficking ring masquerading as a circus and Clint wanted nothing more than to burn the world down and then sleep for a week straight. To say this one had hit too close to home was a little bit of an understatement.
So when he’d stepped out of the elevator and found himself on Bucky’s floor instead of his own, he shook his head and headed for the couch instead of the bedroom. He couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore, because that would open himself up to caring about other things. Things like kids in cages with silent tear tracks running down their faces because they’d learned that crying out loud only brought more pain.
If Bucky wanted to murder him for sleeping on his couch, well, Clint could think of worse ways to go.
Instead of being murdered in his sleep, Clint woke to find Bucky sitting in the armchair across from the couch and staring at him. The hair on the back of Clint’s neck went up and he shivered, his body going cold like someone had dumped a glass of ice water down his back.
“Could you be any more of a creeper?” Clint joked, trying to deflect his primal fear of being watched by an apex predator.
“I could have a knife,” Bucky said calmly.
“Please, like you don’t have at least half a dozen knives on you,” Clint said, his body starting to thaw out when it looked like Bucky wasn’t going to do anything drastic like kiss him or throw him out the window.
Bucky rolled his eyes. “I could have a visible knife,” he amended.
Clint pointed to Bucky’s ankle, where the hem of his pants had ridden up to expose the sheath tucked into his boot.
Bucky sighed deeply. “I could be stabbing you with a knife,” he said after a beat. “Maybe I should be stabbing you with a knife. Why are you sleeping on my couch?”
"I hit the wrong button on the elevator again and I didn't want to get tossed out of your bed. The couch seemed safer."
Bucky raised an eyebrow.
"Did you read the after action report from the latest SHIELD mission?" Clint asked.
"You know I don't have access to those."
Clint snorted. "Everyone knows Steve gives you the hard copy he prints out 'for his files'. He plays up the old-fashioned fuddy-duddy stereotype for the SHIELD administration, but everyone knows he's printing them out for you."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose it's good to know his team can see through his nonsense, even if SHIELD can't figure out what's going on. Yes, I read the after action report," Bucky admitted.
"And you've read my file?"
Bucky looked uncomfortable for a second, looking to the side and playing with the zipper on his hoodie. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly through his nose before replying, "Yes. Both the SHIELD and Hydra ones. The Hydra files on you actually had more detail than the SHIELD files, especially regarding some of your history prior to joining SHIELD."
Clint grimaced. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure Coulson purposefully left some of that out of my official record. After Nat released all the files to the public, I'm pretty grateful for that fact. Not sure how I feel about Hydra having all that dirt on me, though."
"For what it's worth, after the way you left the circus Hydra didn't consider you recruitable. Too many morals."
"Well thank Thor for that," Clint said, flopping back on the couch and throwing his arm over his face to cover his eyes. "I figured it woulda been the whole Natasha thing that put me on Hydra's blacklist, but sure, getting beat up by my own brother and left for dead on the side of the road's a good reason as any."
Bucky coughed delicately, and when Clint lifted his arm to peer at him, he was looking pointedly away from Clint.
"What?"
"The, ah, 'Natasha thing', as you call it actually made Hydra reconsider their stance on you."
"What."
"Not enough to actively recruit you, but, ah, they were always looking for persuasive individuals who could convert others to their cause. If you could convince an active Red Room agent to defect, just imagine what you could do for Hydra recruitment if you joined the cause..." Bucky petered out as he peered at Clint with growing concern. "Are you all right?"
"I think I'm gonna throw up."
"Please don't."
"I'm not actually going to," Clint assured him, despite feeling queasy at the revelation that Hydra had considered him for some kind of recruitment officer. "I just... that's horrifying and I don't want to think about that more than I have to. Great distraction technique, though. A-plus for both effort and execution."
"That was not actually my intent, but I'm glad to have been of assistance," Bucky said, studying Clint for a long moment. "Do you want a drink?"
"God yes," he answered, flopping back on the couch again to stare at the ceiling. "I want ten drinks."
Bucky's lip twitched in a small smile. "Maybe we'll start with one," he said, heading into the kitchen. He came out a few minutes later with two small glasses in his hand and held one out to Clint.
"Nostrovia!" Clint said, taking the glass and clinking it against Bucky's.
Bucky frowned for a second before replying, "Na zdorovje."
Clint tipped his head back, taking a large sip and immediately coughing. He managed to swallow instead of spitting it back into the glass, and he felt quite proud of himself for that.
"What the fuck is this?" he asked, looking balefully at the glass.
"Absinthe," Bucky replied with a raised eyebrow, calmly taking a sip from his own glass.
"Why does it taste like where happiness goes to die?" Clint asked, taking another cautious sip and making a face. "It's like... black licorice cough syrup."
"That would be the anise," Bucky explained. "And maybe the wormwood."
Clint swirled the liquid in his glass, glaring at it and feeling betrayed.
"Is this stuff even legal over here?"
Bucky shrugged. "I have no idea. Tony imports it for me. I got a taste for the stuff when we were stationed in Europe during the war." He held out his hand. "If you won't drink it, I'll take it."
"I didn't say I wouldn't drink it!" Clint huffed, clutching the glass to his chest. "If it's good enough for Sergeant Bucky, it's good enough for me."
Bucky just rolled his eyes and settled down on the couch next to Clint. "Sergeant Bucky, as you so call him, brewed coffee in a tin can and boiled most of his meals. I'm not sure I'd take culinary advice from that guy."
"I won't judge. We've all been there," Clint said with a shrug, taking another sip of the absinthe and wrinkling his nose. "I can see how it'd lead you to thinking this concoction is good, though. Lower your standards enough and even the licorice wormwood drink tastes appealing."
"It is an acquired taste," Bucky said, sipping delicately from his glass before settling back into the armchair across from the couch and giving Clint an unreadable look.
A few too many glasses of absinthe later, Clint had clearly acquired a taste and was sprawled across Bucky's lap, hand reaching up to bat at Bucky's hair.
"What are you doing?" Bucky asked.
"Playin' with your hair," Clint slurred, twirling a lock of Bucky's hair in his fingers.
Bucky rolled his eyes and gently grabbed Clint's hand, redirecting it away from his hair. Clint took that as an invitation to hold hands, and twined his fingers through Bucky's, smiling dopily.
"Why do you keep coming to my floor, Clint?"
"Pro'bly because I have a crush on you," Clint said, closing his eyes. "I wish you liked men," he continued, drunkenly oblivious to Bucky's shock. "It's okay you don't, of course. You like who you like and that's not a choice you make, no matter what some people tell you, no matter how many times they try to beat it out of you, but I wish you liked men because then you might like me."
Clint yawned, eyes still closed, so he didn't see the way Bucky bit his lip and frowned. He fell asleep a few minutes later, breathing softly and body going limp and relaxed. Bucky shook his head and slowly eased his fingers out of Clint's hand. When Clint didn't stir, Bucky carefully extricated himself from the couch and pulled the fuzzy purple blanket he'd bought on a whim over Clint.
It seemed he had a lot to think about.
*
Bucky stood in the elevator, finger hovering over the button to Clint's floor, for much longer than he cared to admit. JARVIS must think him a fool.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a brief second, and pressed the button to Clint's floor. The elevator started moving in the smooth way the elevators in Avengers Tower always did, and Bucky had exactly seventy seconds to second guess his actions before the doors opened with a quiet whoosh.
He took in the surroundings as a matter of course, instinctually noting the differences with his floor - mainly the mess of purple clothing and knickknacks scattered across the floor and tables.
Clint looked up from the couch where he was sprawled. He had a set of beat up looking headphones over his ears, but pulled them down around his neck when he spotted Bucky.
"Bucky, hey!" he said, sounding surprised but not unhappy. "What are you doing here?"
"Possibly something very foolish," Bucky replied with a wry smile.
Clint perked up from his seat on the couch. "You came to the right place for that," he said, pushing himself to an upright position. The purple Starkpad he'd been holding fell to ground, but Clint just shrugged and shoved it under the coffee table with his foot. "I am totally your man for possibly bad ideas. What are we doing? Are we pulling a jump-scare prank on Bruce?"
"God, no!" Bucky said, horrified. The last time Tony had tried that, he'd had to replace half the engineering wing.
"Probably for the best," Clint admitted, looking thoughtful. "Are we pranking Steve, then? I've been wanting to replace his shampoo with purple hair dye for a while now. Did you know they make conditioners with hair dye in them? I don't know how well they'd work on someone with your hair color, but I'm sure they'd work great on Steve."
Bucky shook his head. "No, but I might steal that idea." He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I wanted to ask you out to dinner." He paused. "On a date," he clarified.
Clint frowned and Bucky's heart fell.
"Why would you... wait, are you pranking me?"
"What? No!" Bucky said hurriedly. "Why would I prank you about that?"
"Because you don't date men!" Clint practically shouted.
Bucky recoiled, torn between anger and frustration. "I don't date men because I grew up in the twenties and then I was a brainwashed Hydra assassin. I don't date men because I haven't had an opportunity to date men, not because I'm not interested in men. I'm sorry you thought I was pranking you."
He gathered up the remaining shreds of his dignity and turned back to the elevator. The doors whooshed open without him having to press the button. JARVIS must truly think him a fool.
"Bucky, wait!" Clint called out behind him. He heard Clint stand up from the couch and take a few hurried steps, but Bucky didn't turn around. He didn't need to see whatever expression Clint had on his face. Disgust, pity, or god forbid - amusement? Bucky didn't need to see any of that. The rest of this experience had been humiliating enough.
"Bucky, stop, please," Clint begged, standing right behind him from the sound of it. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea and you - you took me by surprise. I'm sorry. Please don't leave?"
Bucky turned around slowly to face Clint.
"It's fine. I understand. I made a mistake."
"It's not," Clint insisted. "And you didn't. But even if you had, that's no excuse. It's like... you can't just go around stabbing people because they've surprised you. That's rude. I was rude. I'm so sorry."
"I might have preferred if you'd stabbed me," Bucky muttered darkly. "It would have hurt less."
Clint winced. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just - I thought you must be pranking me because there's no way someone like you would want to go on a date with someone like me."
"Why would you say that?"
"I mean," Clint waved his hands, gesturing to Bucky, "just look at you. You're like, super soldier perfection. I'm like the hot mess carnie trash that keeps breaking into your house."
Bucky shook his head. "I think you're getting me mixed up with Steve. And it's not really breaking in when you're welcome. If I didn't want you on my floor, don't you think I'd have asked JARVIS to lock the doors?"
Clint's mouth dropped open. "Really?"
"Really."
"Is it too late to say yes to that dinner?" Clint asked, biting his lip and looking at Bucky with a hopeful look.
Bucky smiled. "No, Clint. It's not too late to say yes to dinner."
Threesome : [Podfic] the beauty of discovery / WinterHawk (Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton) / 19:31 min / Explicit / written by @flowerparrishNur ein Echo der Zeit
Hearing Aids : / / /
Nonbinary!Bucky : Home / WinterHawk (Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes) / 1012 / Teen and Up Audiences
Brooklyn : / / /
Aromanticism : The A in LGBTQIA+ / WinterHawk (Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes) / 2339 / Teen and Up Audiences
