I was legit trying to sleep 1 hour ago but then suddenly I sat up straight and whispered "Clint peppering Bucky's face with kisses" and I honestly have no one to turn to but you
Clint’s always careful with him in a way that doesn’t feel patronising, somehow, and doesn’t feel afraid, and those’re the only careful he’s been familiar with. He just - he takes care, and Bucky’s been a big brother, been the best friend, been the goddamn Winter Soldier for too long to really be used to it. But he appreciates it, loves it, more than he’s managed to say yet.
Like this, Clint’s hands above his shoulders, not on ‘em as he props himself up over Bucky; kneeling to one side of him, not over, not until he’s properly awake. And he never had to articulate it, never had to say what he needed, ‘cos Clint thinks and he works out what works, and he doesn’t always get it right but it’s important that he tries.
So Bucky smiles a little, first signs of waking, and Clint brushes a kiss just over his right eyebrow, and just to the side of his eye.
“So if I was an international fugitive from justice,” he says, quiet and low in deference to the morning, “would you come with me?”
“Pretty sure we both are,” Bucky says, sleep still hiding in the cracks in his voice. He’s rewarded by a kiss just on the end of his nose. “Pretty sure the tower’s the safest place for us.”
“Okay,” Clint says, “okay, but, what if we were fugitives from, let’s say, purely hypothetical -”
“Sure it is,” Bucky says, and Clint’s left him the space that he can easily untangle himself from the sheet, can reach up to put his hands on Clint’s hips. Clint grins and kisses the softest skin just under his eye, and Bucky defies anyone not to smile in response to that.
“Hypothetically,” Clint says, “let’s say I was a fugitive from Asgardian justice -”
Bucky groans. Groans, and tugs Clint over until he gives in and shifts his leg, straddles Bucky’s hips and settles his weight there. Bucky arches up into him, just a little, just enough to be felt, and the next kiss to the corner of his mouth is a little wetter, ‘cos Clint couldn’t help but lick his lips.
Clint whines a little, buries his face in Bucky’s neck and hides a few kisses there.
“He has the best snacks!” he says, mournful, and Bucky laughs and kisses the top of his head, trying to coax him up so he can reach him for more.
“You’re an idiot,” Bucky tells him, “and I would follow you to the ends of the earth if I had to.”
“Not sure that’s gonna be far enough,” Clint says thoughtfully, ‘cos he knows how to treat the big moments, how to squash ‘em down so they can be tucked away safe.