When Bucky had first moved into the Tower, he’d figured Black Widow and Hawkeye were a couple.
It wasn't the craziest assumption. The first time Steve took him up to the communal floor, Natasha was in the kitchen wearing a man's t-shirt that hung like a minidress on her and had a bright purple target on the chest. She gave Bucky a long look that felt like it saw more than Bucky wanted to reveal, wished them 'good morning', then headed off carrying two mugs of coffee.
A few weeks later, after Bucky's first mission out with the Avengers, Clint clapped a hand to his shoulder when they got back to the Tower.
"Good going, dude. It's great having another a sniper on the team."
While Bucky was still processing that, because he'd been jittery with nerves and half-expecting most of the team to decide they didn't want to fight with Hydra's favourite assassin, Clint turned to Natasha.
"Wanna fuck?" he asked, tipping her a cheesy wink.
Steve let out a tired sigh as Natasha considered it.
"Yeah, okay, " she said, and they both disappeared off in the direction of Clint's rooms.
The first time Bucky realised it wasn't that simple was about a month later. Bucky was in the kitchen with Clint, engaged in a competition over who could make the most ridiculous sandwich, because one of the things he'd discovered about himself since shaking Hydra’s brainwashing was that he was a competitive fuck. Natasha was eating her own sandwich, which she'd finished making in a third of the time that Clint and Bucky had so far dedicated to their creations, and ignoring both of them.
Tony came in wearing one of the fancy suits that meant he'd been doing business shit rather than playing around in his workshop. He slumped in a chair with a groan.
"I really fucking hate international investors, " he announced.
Clint paused to look at him and Bucky took his chance to steal the pastrami because he was going to fit another layer on this sucker or die trying.
"Wanna fuck?" said Clint, and Bucky’s head whipped up to watch as Tony blinked, then grinned.
"Guess you win this one," Clint said to Bucky, then abandoned his sandwich and headed off with Tony.
Bucky couldn't stop himself from looking at Natasha, who seemed completely unruffled.
"We're not together, " she said, catching his look. "We just fuck sometimes. Clint likes sex, and he's fairly open about who he has it with."
"Right," said Bucky, and focused back on his sandwich.
"And he's very good at it," added Natasha, and that was not helpful at all, because now Bucky was thinking about it. Clint was tall and strong but he could be gentle as well, and he was more observant than he pretended. Bucky could imagine him being a really giving lover, dedicating his time to make his partner feel incredible, taking them apart with all the skill and concentration he brought when he and Bucky hung out in the range together.
That line of thought threatened to get out of hand so Bucky forced it to stop. He looked down at his sandwich and then at the unfinished state of Clint's. If Clint wasn't going to eat it, that made it Bucky's, right?
There had to be some way to combine them.
Except it turned out that his new bedroom shared a wall with Clint's and however soundproof Tony thought his Tower was, it really didn’t stand up to supersoldier ears.
Being told that Clint liked sex was one thing. Hearing it at all hours of the day and night was quite another. Bucky really hadn't realised just how often Clint had someone over.
Some of them he brought back from bars, but it seemed like most of his partners were part of the hero community that Bucky was starting to be introduced to, like Johnny Storm from the Fantastic Four, who usually flew over and landed on Clint's balcony, lighting up the sky outside Bucky's window with fire. There was also a SHIELD agent called Bobbi who gave Clint firm, precise instructions that came through the wall far too clearly, and then told him what a good boy he was being when he followed them. King T'Challa of Wakanda even dropped in once, which had surprised Bucky until he saw how much more relaxed he was after he and Clint had exchanged what sounded like fairly mind-melting blowjobs.
And yes, okay, so Bucky should definitely not be staying to listen every time, but it was his room. He wasn't being chased out of it that easily.
Besides, it was kind of nice hearing people be so open and up-front about it. Bucky had spent seventy years not even thinking about sex while Hydra had him but before that, when he was in the Army and even when he was in Brooklyn, every sexual encounter he’d had had been a secret. They were all rushed encounters in hidden places, both him and his partner keeping as silent as possible and keeping half their attention on their surroundings to make sure they weren’t about to get caught. Clint’s relaxed, loud liaisons were the complete opposite, and made Bucky feel something like hope settle into his stomach, especially as the split between men and women was roughly even, and made it clear that Clint didn’t see much of a difference as long as everyone had a good time. If no one in the Tower cared whether Clint brought back a man or a woman, surely they wouldn’t care that Bucky had only ever been interested in men that way?
That said, the friendlier he got with Clint and the more time they spent together, the more annoyed he got at the way Clint would drop everything when his phone beeped with someone looking for a hook-up.
“He really likes sex,” said Natasha, the fifth time Bucky was left with a half-finished game of Call of Duty while Clint ducked out to go fuck someone.
“Yeah, I got that,” said Bucky, trying not to sound as grumpy as he felt while he shut the game down.
Natasha gave him a careful look, then smiled. “No, I’m not sure you do. Maybe you should get him to demonstrate, in person.”
Bucky glared at her but her smile just widened as she walked out of the room.
Her words lingered, of course, but that was what she did. She dropped these little truths and then walked away, knowing full well they’d keep whoever she’d said them to up all night, unable to stop thinking about them.
Instead, he went to the communal kitchen and made himself cocoa that did nothing to soothe the frantic fear beating in his chest.
He tried to settle at the table with it, but adrenalin was thrumming through him. He ended up stalking to the living room, staring out of the windows at the night sky, then sitting down in front of the TV to flick through a few channels before turning it off again and heading to the bar. Adding some brandy to his cocoa was only going to help at this point.
Well, it certainly wasn’t going to hurt, anyway.
There was a noise from the doorway and Bucky spun around, reaching for a knife that wasn’t there because he was in his pyjamas.
Clint stood in the doorway, holding his hands up. “Whoa, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Bucky let out a deep breath and relaxed. “Sorry,” he muttered, and picked his cocoa up as if he could hide his stupid over-the-top reactions behind it. He was in Avengers Tower, Tony Stark himself had put in a million security protocols for this place, which the Black Widow and Captain America had looked over and approved. No one wandering into the common room was going to need to be knifed.
“No worries,” said Clint, strolling over to the bar and leaning against it with one hip, watching Bucky with a look that probably saw too much. “Can’t sleep?”
Bucky sighed. “That obvious?”
Clint shrugged. “I don’t sleep well when Nat’s on a mission either.”
At least there was that. Wherever Steve was, he had Black Widow watching his back.
And Falcon, but Bucky didn’t rate that as highly.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, and took a gulp of cocoa that was more brandy than chocolate. “Just. Bad dreams.”
Clint snorted. “Dude, you’re vibrating out of your skin,” he said and put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, weighing it down for a moment and suppressing some of the constant thrum that Bucky couldn’t seem to make settle. “Okay, in my experience with bad nights, you’ve got to either shoot it out, fuck it out, or drink until you forget about it. You want me to help with any of those?”
Bucky gritted his teeth together. “I’m fine,” he insisted again, but he could still hear the crack of Steve’s spine as he’d wrenched his neck apart, and it was all too easy to imagine it happening for real, somewhere off where Bucky couldn’t protect him.
“You don’t have to pretend to be fine,” said Clint. “No one who lives here is fine. You’ve just got to find a way to cope with not being fine.” His hand smoothed down over Bucky’s shoulder and it was enough for Bucky to push away just that tiny bit more of the anxiety, so that he could think this through.
“I can’t get drunk, and I’ve got no one to fuck, so I guess it’ll have to be the range,” he said.
“Awesome, I love shooting things,” said Clint, straightening up from his lean and flashing Bucky a grin. “Although, for the record, if you ever wanted, I’d be up for fucking you.”
All thoughts of Steve disappeared from Bucky’s head. “What?” he managed weakly.
“Don’t get weird about it, I’m up for fucking a lot of people.” Clint’s eyes drifted down Bucky’s body in a way that sent heat spiralling through him. “I mean, you’re pretty high up in the fuckable rankings, but yeah. If you’re ever up for it let me know.”
Bucky kept staring. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” confirmed Clint. “People tend to make it a much bigger deal than it should be, in my opinion.”
Bucky looked at him, taking in his relaxed grin, the way his t-shirt stretched over his shoulders and the flash of skin where his pyjama pants sagged down over his hip bone. “So, if I said I’d rather fuck than shoot right now…?” he tried.
Clint’s grin widened. “I’d say we should go back to my room and see how we get on.” Something in Bucky’s expression must have given away the thrill of nerves and anticipation that sent through him, because Clint’s face softened. “Hey, no pressure, no expectations. We can just go and fool about, see how it goes, and if you change your mind then, well, the range will still be there.”
Bucky took a moment to really think about it, not just as a fantasy but as something that was about to actually happen, then nodded his head. “Yeah, okay then.”
Clint lit up in a way Bucky had never seen. “Oh, hell yeah,” he said, and his hand wrapped around Bucky’s shoulder as he moved in closer, until his other hand was on Bucky’s hip and his mouth was hovering over Bucky’s. “You sure?”
“Definitely,” said Bucky and didn’t wait for Clint to close the gap. He pressed their lips together, trying not to think about the fact that this was his first kiss in seventy years and instead concentrating on enjoying it.
Clint didn’t waste any time kissing back, taking control and deepening the kiss until their tongues were moving together, slick and heavy, making promises Bucky really hoped were going to be followed through on.
Fuck, he really wanted this. Clint had been right, this was the perfect way to stop thinking about Steve getting hurt and focus on something else instead.
He couldn’t stop himself from muttering, “Fuck,” softly when Clint pulled away, and Clint grinned at him.
“Yep, that’s the plan,” he said. “In my room, though, I’m on a final warning for fucking in public spaces, and I really don’t want to get kicked out.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Bucky, and let Clint pull him down towards his rooms. He kept his hands on Clint as they went, not willing to let go when he was getting the chance to run his hands over Clint’s waist, over the soft skin where he could feel the shift of hard muscle underneath. Clint seemed pretty happy to let Bucky’s hands wander. More than happy, if the way he stopped twice so he could push Bucky up against the wall and kiss him was anything to go by.
“Fuck, this is going to be so hot,” he murmured against Bucky’s lips the second time.
“Yeah,” agreed Bucky, not really able to form more words than that. “C’mon.” He pushed Clint away and dragged him the final few feet down to Clint’s door, heading straight for the bedroom once they were inside his apartment. He wanted to see Clint spread out on his bed and find out how close it came to the mental images he’d come up whenever he’d been listening in on Clint’s other encounters.
“Okay, man on a mission, I can go for that,” said Clint and he seemed so happy and relaxed, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be, that Bucky had to lean in and kiss him again, hot and heavy as he felt arousal burning through him. God, he wanted this so much.
“Yeah,” said Clint, breathlessly. “Okay.” He reached down and stripped off his t-shirt, flinging it to one side while Bucky stared at the impressive lines of his chest. “What’s the plan?”
Bucky pressed the palms of his hands to Clint’s chest, dragging them down, over his nipples to the defined ridge of his abs, watching the way it made Clint shiver. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I just want to stop thinking.”
“Okay,” said Clint, in a rough voice that went straight to Bucky’s cock. He slipped his hands up inside Bucky’s shirt, running them over his waist then tugging it off over Bucky’s head. He pulled Bucky in for another kiss and it was so much better with the bare skin of their chests pressed together. Fuck, Bucky’s previous encounters had been as fully clothed as possible so that they could get back to presentable the moment it was over. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope with this much touching without coming apart embarrassingly quickly.
“Well, no one really manages thinking while I’m sucking them off, so how about we start with that?” said Clint.
Just the idea of Clint’s mouth around Bucky’s cock was enough to make him groan with lust, which put a smug grin on Clint’s face a split-second before he pulled him in for another kiss, hands trailing down his sides to his pyjama pants. He stroked over Bucky’s hips while Bucky was distracted by the taste of Clint’s mouth, then pushed them down to puddle at his feet.
“No underwear?” he asked, pulling away to take in the sight.
Bucky held in a growl at losing contact and pushed aside any self-consciousness about the way Clint was taking in his whole body, scars and prosthetic arm and all. “Didn’t see the point.”
Clint grinned. “Yeah, me neither.” He pushed down his own pants to reveal his cock, hard enough to rest against his belly, and the long lines of his legs and, fuck, Bucky wanted them wrapped around him so much.
That wasn’t what Clint had offered though, and besides, after experiencing the skill of Clint’s kisses, he was pretty eager to see what his mouth could do to Bucky’s cock.
He took hold of Clint’s waist, pulling him into another long kiss and taking his chance to run his hands over Clint’s back, up to his shoulders and down to his ass, just taking in the feeling of all that skin, right there and available to him.
“How’d you want to do this?” he asked.
Clint shrugged. “I mean, I’m pretty easy. Whatever works for you. Although, I do kinda like the idea of having you all spread out on the bed, so I can get to every part of you.” He ran a hand over Bucky’s chest, down to his navel, then gave Bucky a grin. “But I’m also up for getting on my knees for you, or-”
“On the bed sounds fine,” said Bucky, because he might not understand why Clint was so keen on the idea of getting access to Bucky’s body, but he was willing to do anything that Clint talked about in that low, excited tone.
He made himself pull away from Clint’s hands, sitting down on the bed and then moving backwards until he was right in the middle of it.
Right where all those other people Clint had had in here had probably been. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being added to the list of them, but as long as Clint was giving him that hungry, eager look, he wasn’t about to go overthinking it.
Clint followed him down, kneeling between Bucky’s legs to kiss him again, then gently pushing him down to rest against the mound of pillows. “No thinking, right?” he said. “Just feel.”
He kissed Bucky again before he could respond, sinking one hand into Bucky’s hair to hold his head in place and just taking complete control of Bucky’s mouth, while he clung on to Clint’s biceps and let himself get swept away in the sensations.
“And if you don’t like anything, just say and I’ll stop,” said Clint when he pulled away, but Bucky couldn’t imagine not loving anything and everything that this man did to him.
“Yeah,” he agreed breathlessly as Clint started working his mouth along Bucky’s jaw, kissing and licking and occasionally biting, tiny nips that just made Bucky’s arousal soar higher, until he was gasping and trying not to thrust up against the heat of Clint’s body.
“Gonna clear your mind of everything but me,” muttered Clint as he started moving down Bucky’s neck, their stubble catching roughly together in a way that somehow only turned Bucky on more, because it was incontrovertible proof that he was here with another man, getting to lie back and properly enjoy the moment without fear of what the world would say if they knew.
“Oh, hey, supersoldier, no need to worry about hickeys,” said Clint, and sucked right over Bucky’s pulse point, hard and sudden and enough to make Bucky moan out loud.
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he managed.
Clint laughed. “Nah, where’s the fun in that? Just gonna take you to heaven and back.”
It should have seemed like overconfident hyperbole but the way his talented fingers were running down Bucky’s skin, lingering to trace over his pecs, was making Bucky think that if anyone could follow through on that, Clint could.
Clint traced over Bucky’s chest, then back up to his shoulders and down over his biceps, treating both his arms with the same careful attention even though he had to know that the sensations Bucky got from his metal arm were dimmer than from his right arm. “Any do-not-wants I should know about before I get started?” he asked and, fuck, if this wasn’t him already started how the hell was Bucky going to cope when he finally did?
Clint was giving him an expectant look and Bucky realised he’d need to come out with an answer. He flicked through the handful of things that had given him a bad reaction since he’d shaken off Hydra’s grip on him, and shook his head. “Nothing that’s likely to come up,” he said, because he didn’t think Clint would jump straight to electrocution mid-sex without at least discussing it with his partner first.
“Cool,” said Clint. “Hey, you know what has come up?” He waggled his eyebrows, then took a firm grip on Bucky’s erection, giving a hard pull that made all thought flee from Bucky’s mind before he could complain about the lameness of the joke. “Oh man, this is such a nice cock, Bucky. I can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”
“Jesus,” grunted out Bucky, straining up towards Clint. “Get on with it, then.”
Clint just grinned at him. “Anticipation’s half the pleasure,” he said, and let go of Bucky’s cock, leaving him achingly hard and desperate for more.
“C’mon,” he gasped, reaching for Clint and just clinging on to his shoulders. “You bastard.”
Clint leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Pet names will only get you so far,” he said, and then lowered his head to Bucky’s chest, kissing the hollow of his throat and down his sternum.
Bucky sucked in a deep breath, moving his hands to grip the bedsheets instead of Clint because he didn’t want to hurt the guy and he wasn’t sure he had a whole lot of control left over his strength right now, not when the bastard wouldn’t stop teasing, mouth licking and sucking over Bucky’s skin so far away from where he desperately needed it.
And then Clint took a detour to one of Bucky’s nipples, sucking it with a hard, sudden force that made Bucky cry out and arch up, then dragging the flat of his tongue over it. Fuck, how the hell hadn’t he known his nipples were that sensitive? Why the hell hadn’t anyone done that before?
Because they hadn’t had time. Because they’d all just gone straight for each other’s cocks, fast and furious and nothing like this, like Clint’s slow, teasing worship of Bucky’s body.
“Oh man, that’s so fucking hot,” muttered Clint, and moved to do exactly the same thing to the other nipple, making Bucky grunt and clench at the bed, hearing a sheet rip.
Fuck, and Clint hadn’t even got as far as Bucky’s cock yet.
“Jesus, Bucky,” said Clint, looking up at him, and he looked almost as turned on as Bucky felt, pupils blown wide and face flushed red. “I could do this all night.”
Bucky let out a frustrated noise. “I can’t,” he said, in a tight voice. “Clint, come on, you said you were going to suck me, don’t fucking tease.”
“I am sucking you,” said Clint, and he leaned down to suck at Bucky’s nipple again, running his hands down Bucky’s sides to grip his hips and hold him in place as he bucked up at the sensation.
Yeah, Bucky wasn’t making it out of this in one piece. Clint was going to take him apart.
“Not what I meant, asshole,” gritted out Bucky.
Clint just laughed, low and close enough to Bucky’s chest for him to feel Clint’s breath skating over his skin. “I’m having fun.” He patted Bucky’s hip affectionately. “Just be patient. You’re gonna love this, I promise, and you didn’t want to think, right?”
Bucky let out a long breath and let his head fall back against the pillows because Clint was right, he didn’t want to think, and right now the only thought in his mind was desperation to get Clint’s mouth on his cock, so at least there was that. He could barely remember what he’d been so anxious about to start with. “Okay, fine.”
“Awesome,” said Clint, and licked over Bucky’s nipple again, sparking sensation through his chest and making him suck in a tense breath. “Just lie back and relax, baby, I’m going to make you feel so good.”
He already was, but Bucky didn’t think his ego needed to hear that.
Clint’s pace didn’t pick up at all as he leisurely made his way down Bucky’s body, exploring every part of it to find all the spots that made Bucky suck in a breath or let out a moan. Any time Bucky tried to hurry him up, Clint just slowed down even more, until Bucky thought he was going to combust with desperation.
“You are so fucking hot,” said Clint, pausing over Bucky’s stomach before pressing a kiss just below his belly button. “Jesus, I can’t get over it.”
“Kinda wish you would,” said Bucky breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut because his erection was curling right up against where Clint’s mouth was, so close he could feel his breath, but Clint wasn’t moving to get closer to it and the anticipation was going to kill Bucky.
Clint snorted his amusement. “Still impatient then,” he said, and ran his tongue along the line of Bucky’s hip bone. “That’s cool, I’ll get there. Eventually.”
Bucky groaned and Clint laughed again, then ran his hands over Bucky’s thighs, trailing his fingers through the hair. “I think these are my favourite parts of you,” he said. “Definitely the hottest.” He bent his head to press a kiss to the inside of Bucky’s left thigh, high enough up for him to be only centimetres from where Bucky really wanted him to be.
“Oh god,” he said with every ounce of frustration he was feeling.
“Yeah,” agreed Clint, and he leaned in to smack a quick kiss to the same place on Bucky’s right thigh and then, in a sudden movement that forced a cry out of Bucky, finally swallowed down his cock.
Oh fuck. Clint’s mouth was so hot and wet, and he knew just how to suck hard on the head and then run his tongue over the shaft and, fuck, after all this build-up, there was no way Bucky was going to last long.
“Oh god,” he said, in a high, desperate tone that he almost didn’t recognise as coming from him. He let his right hand curl around the back of Clint’s neck, fingers nestled in his hair, just to feel the way his head bobbed up and down as he sucked Bucky down, taking him so much further down than Bucky would have thought possible, as if now he’d got all the teasing out of his system, he just wanted to consume Bucky whole.
And that was what it felt like as well, like Bucky was completely under Clint’s control, as if his mouth was reaching every part of him. Bucky could hear himself panting out harsh, desperate noises that made him have new empathy for all the people he’d heard falling apart in this bed, under Clint’s skillful hands. Heat was sweeping over his body, pooling in the base of his stomach as Clint ran his tongue up the underside of Bucky’s cock, swallowing him down with his eyes clenched shut as if he couldn’t imagine anything better than being right where he was.
“Clint,” grunted Bucky, “I’m gonna...I’m close.”
Clint gave an enthusiastic hum as if that were the best news he’d ever heard, and the sensation of it around Bucky’s cock was enough to tip him over the edge, coming with an inarticulate cry.
He hadn’t realised he could feel that good.
Clint pulled away from his cock, flicking a tongue out to catch a bit of come that had escaped the corner of his mouth. “Okay?”
Bucky felt as if every limb was going to dissolve into the bed with sated pleasure. He managed an affirmative-sounding noise.
“Cool,” said Clint, kneeling up and grinning down at him. “Still feeling anxious?”
Bucky pressed his eyes closed for a moment because the sight of Clint’s long, beautiful body looming over him was more than he could cope with right now, especially with his cock resting hard and heavy against his stomach, flushed a deep red.
“Nope,” he said, because he couldn’t remember what anxiety was.
“Cool,” said Clint cheerfully, and moved over to sit next to Bucky, leaning back against his pillow mountain as if he didn’t have a care in the world and the only point of this whole thing had been Bucky’s orgasm.
Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes away from Clint’s cock. “You want a hand?” he asked, because it felt like he hadn’t got anywhere close to touching Clint as much as he wanted to.
Clint ran a hand over it, pressing in slightly with an intake of breath. “I’m okay, I can wait,” he said.
“Doesn’t mean you have to,” said Bucky, and with a herculean effort he sat up. “Let me take care of it.”
Clint grinned at him. “Not sure why you think I’d try and stop you.” He spread his legs, sprawling a bit further into the pillows and waved a vague hand at his cock. “Be my guest.”
Bucky might not have had much experience with slowly taking people apart like Clint had just done to him, but he’d given plenty of handjobs in his time. Clint looked closer than Bucky would figured, given that all the attention had been on Bucky so far, but he still took the time to smooth his hand over Clint’s stomach, feeling the muscles clench as he sucked in a tight breath.
He trailed his fingers through Clint’s pubic hair to the base of his erection, lightly circling it, because he had to pay back some of that teasing somehow. Clint just relaxed further back into the pillows and grinned up at Bucky, tucking his hands behind his head which, wow, really highlighted the thick bulge of his biceps.
“In your own time,” he said, but there was a breathless edge to the words that betrayed his attempt to seem relaxed about this whole thing.
Bucky shifted around so that he could lean in and kiss him, deepening the kiss just as he wrapped his hand around Clint’s cock so that he could taste the moan off his lips, then stroking up with a firm, slow grip that he hoped Clint would like as much as Bucky did, when it was just him alone at night after listening to one of Clint’s marathon sex sessions.
And now Bucky was on this side of the wall, getting to take part.
“Ah, yeah, just like that,” muttered Clint, tipping his head back and pushing his hips up into Bucky’s grip. “C’mon.”
“No rush,” said Bucky, grinning at him. He took hold of Clint’s hip with his other hand to hold him steady and only afterwards realised that maybe Clint wouldn’t want Hydra’s technology touching him like that.
“Sorry,” he muttered, letting go.
Clint’s arm moved faster than Bucky was expecting, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand back to his hip. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s not even cold.”
That hadn’t been Bucky’s worry about it but given the way Clint pushed up into his grip when he took hold of him again, he decided he didn’t need to worry. Besides, it wasn’t like he couldn’t distract Clint from it. He stroked up his cock again, watching Clint’s face as he squeezed his eyes shut, panting out quick breaths.
“Fuck, not gonnna last long.”
“Maybe I shoulda stopped and teased you then, like you did me,” said Bucky, stroking the hand not working Clint’s cock up his side, since apparently he didn’t mind the metal. Clint sucked in a breath and Bucky decided to try giving him a taste of his own medicine, trailing across the sparse golden hair on his chest to pass over one of his nipples.
“Oh, fuck,” breathed Clint, and his eyes flew open to stare at Bucky. Bucky couldn’t stop himself from leaning in to kiss Clint, just as he flicked his thumb across the head of his cock, then tugged gently on his nipple again.
Clint came with a cry that was far too familiar to Bucky, even without the wall between them to muffle it. He kept his hand on Clint’s cock, just gently holding on until Clint weakly pushed at it, settling even further into the pillows as his breathing started to recover. Come was splattered on his stomach but he didn’t seem in a rush to clean it off.
“Damn, that was good,” he said as Bucky collapsed into the pillows next to him.
“Yeah,” agreed Bucky. He’d left his right hand resting on Clint’s thigh, not yet willing to completely let go of the moment, and his skin was warm and the faintest bit sweaty. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this; the easy movement of two bodies coming together for the sole purpose of giving each other pleasure.
He wanted to kiss Clint again but now that the sex was over he wasn’t sure it would be welcome. Clint looked completely relaxed, boneless and happy in a way that Bucky wanted to get close to, as if it could be transmitted somehow.
But then he felt pretty boneless and happy himself right now. He wasn’t thinking about Steve or the mission, not when Clint was right there next to him, the smell of sex in the air around them.
God, he felt really good. He might even be able to get to sleep.
“Okay,” said Clint after another minute of silence had passed. He sat up with more energy than Bucky would have credited him with. “I’m going to shower.” He patted Bucky’s chest in a comradely way. “Thanks man, that was great. Any time you want to go again, just let me know and I’ll pencil you in.”
He got up and stretched, derailing Bucky’s immediate reaction to that as he watched the muscles of Clint’s back flex and shift and took in the shape of his ass, and then he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.
Bucky let out a breath. Right, he had his own room next door that he should probably get back to.
He kinda wanted his own shower as well, although he couldn’t help thinking that it would be better to share with Clint, getting to wash his wet body.
Maybe next time. Instead, Bucky gathered up his clothes from where they’d ended up, pulling on his pants for the quick walk down the corridor.
He took a very long, hot shower, feeling the last remnants of tension soak out of his muscles, then curled up in bed and let his eyes slide shut.
He was asleep within minutes.
I kissed those lips, thought Bucky and felt glee spread through him. He’d taken back another thing Hydra had stolen from him and found another tiny piece of himself.
And he’d had a damn good time doing it.
It wasn’t until much later, after Steve and the others had come back from their mission, that he discovered the huge problem at the heart of the whole thing.
The team were relaxing in the lounge, watching some space movie that Tony had claimed was essential viewing for anyone who hadn’t had the chance to go to a cinema for seventy years. Clint was draped over a sofa next to Natasha, legs sprawled across her lap as if he didn’t know how to sit like a normal person and Bucky couldn’t keep himself from glancing over at him, sneaking looks and remembering exactly what those hands and mouth had done to him.
Clint’s phone beeped and he pulled it out, then his face lit up. “Emma Frost is in town and wants to work off some frustration,” he announced and hopped off the sofa with a grin. “Guess I’ll be back later. A lot later,” he added with a wink as he headed out of the room.
“You know, you really shouldn’t treat the superhero community as some kinda sex Pokemon,” said Tony.
Clint just laughed and winked at him. “Gotta catch them all,” he said, and left.
An ice-cold sensation descended through Bucky’s stomach, which made no sense. Clint had got a text or a call and left to go fuck someone dozens of times since Bucky had arrived at the Tower. Why would it bother him this time?
He stared at the TV without seeing the movie for another ten minutes, trying to think of any reason other than the nagging realisation that he couldn’t keep hiding from.
Because he didn’t want Clint to fuck anyone else. He wanted to have him all to himself. He wanted to get to sit next to him and be sprawled all over, and he wanted to hang out and play computer games with him, and he wanted to go back to his room and do what they’d done last night, again and again, and with no one else getting between them.
This was bad. This was really bad.
He sat through the end of the movie and then escaped to his room. He sat on his bed and put his head in his hands trying to make it not true. He couldn’t have feelings for Clint, not when it was so clear that Clint wasn’t interested in anything like a relationship, not with anyone, and definitely not with Bucky.
Goddamn, why could he never have just one nice thing without it backfiring horribly?
Because Clint would let him, and he’d happily take Bucky to his bed again, and then afterwards he’d kick him out just like he had before. Because they were just friends and that was what Clint did with his friends. He didn’t see sex any differently than the computer games or the shooting competitions.
And maybe Bucky could have been the same with him, treated it as casually as Tony did when he’d had a shitty day, or Natasha did when she was all worked up from a fight, but Bucky had had to go and fall for the guy and now there was no way he could touch him without it shattering his heart that Clint didn’t feel the same way.
Instead, he lay in bed and listened to Clint fuck other people, picturing himself in their place, and let himself get down enough about it that even Steve noticed.
“Hey, you doing okay?” he asked after a sparring match, as Bucky drained a bottle of water. “You’ve seemed a bit quiet.”
“I’m fine,” said Bucky as shortly as he could, hoping to put Steve off the scent before he latched on and got all stubborn, like he always did.
Steve gave him a careful look. “No you’re not,” he said. “What’s going on?”
Bucky sighed. Godamnit, too late. “Nothing,” he tried again.
Steve put a hand on his shoulder and gave him the earnest look that always made Bucky want to knee him in the balls because he knew the guy under all this Captain America schtick and he wasn’t falling for it. “You know that if there’s anything you need, you just have to ask, right?”
“I don’t need anything,” muttered Bucky, shoving Steve’s hand away.
“And that goes for everyone else here,” added Steve. “But Bucky, you’ve got to ask. No one’s ever going to know unless you say something.”
He gave Bucky a pointed look that meant he’d seen too much, so Bucky scowled at him and stalked out of the gym.
He couldn’t just ask Clint if he wanted to go out sometime.
He realised the thought had never even crossed his mind. Clint liked him, clearly liked spending time with him, had seemed to have a pretty good time in bed with him, and yet Bucky had never stopped once to wonder if that meant he might go out with him. After all, just because no one else had ever made a move beyond having sex with the guy didn’t mean he wouldn’t go for it.
Fuck, only one way to find out. Bucky took a deep breath and reminded himself that before Hydra he’d taken far longer shots on guys, and sometimes got his ass kicked for it, but sometimes he’d also lucked out and got something a lot better done to his ass.
He couldn’t rush it, though. He’d feel things out, maybe soften Clint up a little bit first, and see how that went.
He took a shower, then headed out to the fancy coffee shop around the corner and picked up two of their overpriced coffees before going back to the Tower.
Clint was in the range, where Bucky had known he’d find him.
“Got you a coffee,” he said, setting it down on the table next to Clint.
Clint’s face lit up. “Aw, yes,” he said, setting his bow down. “Oh man, and it’s the good stuff too, thanks. What’s this for?”
Bucky shrugged. “I was passing the coffee shop and thought you’d appreciate it.”
He walked to the weapons locker to get his gun out, then turned back to where Clint was sipping at the coffee with a pleased half-smile and felt his heart melt. “Want some competition?” he asked, rather than letting out any of those feelings.
“Always,” said Clint, setting down his coffee so he could pick his bow up again.
And Clint was happy with all of it. He only said no to hanging out with Bucky when he already had plans and he always seemed so happy when they were together. He was still having people over to fuck pretty regularly but none of them were the one he slumped next to when he had his coffee in the morning, shoulder knocking against Bucky’s, and they didn’t get to see him at the range, crowing with delight because he’d won again. That was all Bucky’s.
“Hey, the local animal shelter is doing an open day today to come meet the dogs,” he said to Clint one morning. “Want to-”
“Yes,” said Clint, not letting him finish and leaping to his feet. “Let me get my coat.” He disappeared and Bucky couldn’t hold in a delighted smile at his eagerness, even if he knew it was for the dogs rather than him.
“You’re being too subtle,” said Natasha.
“No idea what you mean,” said Bucky, standing up to go get his own coat.
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Clint won’t realise unless you tell him.”
Bucky had already worked that one out and was still trying to decide if he should be telling him or not. If there was no hope of Clint returning his feelings then Bucky was probably better off keeping quiet and just being friends with him.
He wasn’t going to discuss any of that with Natasha though, so he just smiled at her and left to get ready for a day watching Clint playing with dogs.
He bought Clint gifts as well, as often as he thought he could get away with it. Coffee, of course, because that was the easiest and the one that Clint always welcomed, but also candy and other small items that he hoped wouldn’t give him away but that he couldn’t resist getting. He found purple gloves large enough for Clint’s hands, a pair of socks decorated with arrows and a small plushie hawk with a slightly crazed look.
Every time he gave something to Clint -no matter how small or silly- Clint always looked surprised, as if he couldn’t imagine anyone seeing something and thinking of him. It just made Bucky want to buy him more things.
“He’s so tiny and angry, I love him,” said Clint, stroking a hand over the hawk’s head. “Oh man, I’m going to call him Henery after the cartoon.”
He glanced up and Bucky gave him the helpless shrug he’d perfected for when someone made a reference he didn’t get.
“Looney Toons,” said Clint. “We’ll have to watch some, they’re ridiculous.”
“I remember Looney Toons,” said Bucky, although he probably hadn’t thought about them since he shipped out to the war. Had there been a Henery? He’d never paid all that much attention to cartoons.
“Henery kinda reminds me of you, now I think of it,” said Clint. “Tiny, angry and stubborn.”
“I’m not that angry anymore,” said Bucky, because right now he couldn’t even keep in a smitten smile as Clint kept petting the plushie. He’d have argued the ‘tiny’ point with anyone else, but Clint had far too many inches on him for him to get away with that.
“Clearly you haven’t seen your face when you’re faced with a Hydra squad,” said Clint.
“Extenuating circumstances,” muttered Bucky, because fuck those guys, seriously.
“Right,” said Clint, clearly laughing at him inside. He looked back down at the hawk and smiled. “Yeah, Henery Hawk. That’s a good name, right? I don’t think I’ve ever named a plushie before.”
“You didn’t have names for your toys as a kid?” asked Bucky, settling further back into the corner of the sofa so he had a better view of the way Clint was holding the plushie, cradled in his hands.
Clint shrugged. “I only really had the one teddy and that was when I was too young to go naming things, so it was just called Teddy.” He pulled out one of Henery’s wings, then tucked it back against his body. “Henery is a good name, right?”
“It’s a great name,” said Bucky, trying not to let his emotions show in his voice.
“Awesome,” said Clint, grinning at the toy for a moment before setting it in his lap and turning the TV on. “Hey, where did we get to with Dog Cops?”
The toy stayed in his lap as they watched and Clint’s hand occasionally found its way to stroke over its fur. Bucky watched the delicate movement of his fingers and thought about having them trail through his hair, then pulled his phone out to distract himself.
Except it didn’t quite work like that, because whenever he found himself on Google he always just ended up looking up something that reminded him of Clint. “Hey, there’s a birds of prey display in the park on Saturday, want to go?”
“Definitely,” said Clint, glancing away from the screen to grin at Bucky.
And, really, Natasha’s warnings about subtlety be damned, there was no way Bucky wasn’t giving himself away with every single word out of his mouth. Friends didn’t buy each other hawk plushies for no reason, or look up stuff in the local area to do with each other, just the two of them, or spend a whole episode of Dog Cops distracted by staring at each other. Clint had to know what this was, that Bucky wasn’t just being friends but was trying to woo him. And he just kept saying yes to everything, with no hesitations or reservations.
Hope began to grow in Bucky’s chest.
On the way back they stopped for coffee and the only table available was really only meant for one person, so their legs knocked together under it. Clint just grinned at Bucky, tucked his legs in next to Bucky’s, and then proceeded to tell Bucky stories of his time at the circus and the acts they’d had there. He was grinning and laughing and Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off him. Fuck, there was no way his feelings weren’t beaming out of his face right now. Clint had to know.
He had to know. And he was still sitting so close to Bucky, elbowing him whenever Bucky made a snarky comment, apparently completely happy to have no personal space.
“Hey,” said Clint as they headed back to the Tower, “do you think it makes me some kinda traitor if I liked the falcons best?”
Bucky shrugged. “Nah, you’re okay,” he said. “I just wouldn’t go telling Sam.”
“Hell no,” said Clint, grinning at him. “Which were your favourites?”
And Bucky could hardly pass up that golden opportunity to flirt, right? “My favourite’s been a hawk for a while now,” he said, catching Clint’s eye so he could tip him a wink.
Clint snorted and rolled his eyes but he was still smiling and fuck, this had to be it. He had to know how Bucky felt and that this had been as close to a date as Bucky could get without actually saying anything to Clint.
They reached the Tower and Bucky let himself put a hand on Clint’s back as he opened the door, guiding him through with a light touch that made his every nerve ending light up. He was getting to flirt with Clint and Clint wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t shutting down, wasn’t doing anything to say it wasn’t welcome.
They got in the elevator and Clint slumped against the wall, then stretched out a foot to kick Bucky’s shoe. “Hey, thanks. I wouldn’t have thought to go along to a bird show on my own, but I had a good time.”
“It was completely my pleasure,” said Bucky, and then plucked up all his courage and forced himself to say, “Hey, can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night? There’s that new Italian place.”
“Yeah, sounds great,” said Clint, and Bucky felt like his heart was going to explode through his chest with happiness. “The one Tony was talking about? We should see if he and the others want to come along.”
Bucky’s happiness dimmed. “Uh, no,” he said, clearing his throat. “I meant, can I take you out as, you know. A date.”
Clint’s reaction was like a cold bucket of water over Bucky’s head. He flinched in surprise and then just stared at him for a long moment, as if he’d had no idea that might have been coming, even after everything else Bucky had done. “What?”
Bucky clenched his hands around the elevator bar, but did his best to keep his voice light and easy. “A date. You know, kinda like today, but maybe with some kissing. And I get to actually tell you how hot you look when you laugh and not just think it.”
The elevator stopped and the doors slide open, but neither of them moved. Clint didn’t seem to be able to stop staring at Bucky and then, heartbreakingly, he shook his head. “No. Bucky, I don’t- I can’t. Look, if you want to fuck again, then you don’t have to do any of that shit. You know I’m pretty easy, right? I’d be up for it if you just said, no need for dinner.”
“I don’t want to go to dinner just for a chance to fuck you,” said Bucky, and he could hear the bar under his left hand starting to bend and crack from the pressure. “I want to get to talk and laugh and flirt with you. I want to date you.”
Clint shook his head. “I don’t date,” he said firmly, and Bucky felt his heart shrivel. “I'm not even the kind of guy people want to date. I guess you don't know me well enough yet to get that.”
“That’s not true,” said Bucky. “I know you well enough to know that dating you is exactly what I want.”
Clint was still looking at him as if he’d never seen anything like him before, but after another heavily awkward silence, he shook his head again. “It’s not what I want,” he said. “I don’t do dating. I’m sorry.”
He left the elevator before Bucky could respond and Bucky had to take a deep breath, and then another.
Fuck. He hadn’t realised just how much it would hurt to be rejected.
He couldn’t stand the idea of following Clint out and going into his own rooms, where Clint would be just a wall away but would feel so much further. “JARVIS, can you take me to the roof?”
“Of course, sir,” said JARVIS, and the elevator doors slid shut again.
So instead of getting up early to avoid running into Clint in the kitchen, he went in at his normal time, which also happened to be Clint’s normal time and that definitely wasn’t related.
Clint was sat with what must have been his first mug of coffee because he still looked a bit bleary-eyed. He looked up at Bucky and looked caught for a moment, as if he had no idea how to act.
Bucky rolled his eyes at him and headed to get his own cup of coffee. “I can take a no,” he said, as he waited for the machine. “You don’t have to look quite so terrified.”
“Sorry,” said Clint, and he actually sounded it. Bucky turned around to watch him and Clint gave him a sad half-shrug. “Just, not really been in this situation before.”
He was wearing one of the old t-shirts he slept in and it clung to the lines of his shoulders in a way that Bucky had to fight to keep his eyes from tracing over. “There isn’t a situation,” he said, because he wasn’t interested in things being awkward. “I asked, you said no, it’s done.”
“Okay,” said Clint, but he still sounded wary.
Bucky made a face at him and turned to grab his coffee from the machine. He hesitated, thinking about running back to his room, then turned back to look at Clint; the jawline he wanted to press kisses along; the hair he wanted to stroke his fingers through; the eyes he wanted to see looking at him with just as much affection as he felt. God, he wanted so much.
But he couldn’t have it. What he could have was Clint’s friendship, and he wasn’t going to fuck that up over this.
He pulled a chair out and sat down opposite Clint. “Hey, listen,” he said. “We’re friends, right? I don’t want to lose that.”
“Yeah, me neither,” said Clint and he found a small smile that relaxed some of the tension in Bucky’s chest. “So let’s not.”
“Great,” said Bucky, smiling back. “Then you won’t mind meeting me in the range after breakfast so I can kick your ass.”
Clint rolled his eyes. “When have you ever managed to kick my ass, oldtimer?” he asked, and just like that, the whole thing was behind them.
Well, no, not quite. Because now when they hung out and Clint was grinning and laughing Bucky knew it wasn’t because he returned Bucky’s feelings, and when he lay in bed and could hear Clint having sex with someone just a wall away he didn’t have anything other than the heartsick ache of wishing it were him instead.
No, that wasn’t quite right. He still had his friendship with Clint, even if he’d cut out all the more romantic gestures. Henery Hawk was still perched on the shelf above Clint’s TV, next to the stack of computer games that the two of them were slowly working through. They still hung out together, still talked and laughed and pissed the other Avengers off by getting overly competitive in the field.
It was just never going to be more than that.
About a week later, Bucky was on his way back from SHIELD when he stopped at his and Clint’s favourite coffee shop for some coffee. He looked at the display of baked goods, at the barista already picking up two cups because he knew Bucky always ordered two drinks -one for himself and one to take to Clint- and he thought fuck it. He got Clint a coffee too, and one of the blueberry muffins he liked, and took them back to the Tower with him.
Clint was in the main lounge fiddling with an arrow, but he looked up with a smile when Bucky came in.
“Hey,” returned Bucky, and set the coffee and muffin down for him. “Picked you up these.”
Clint grinned and reached for them, and Bucky realised that as long as he was still winning that smile out of Clint he was going to keep doing this kind of stuff for him, regardless of whether or not there was anything more than friendship behind it. He just liked seeing Clint happy.
He sat down on a couch and flicked through the channels until he found a baking show he knew Clint liked, then settled in to spend half an hour just quietly relaxing with him.
Clint drank about half the coffee before he frowned at it and looked up at Bucky. “Hey,” he said, then hesitated. Bucky gave him an expectant look. “What’s this for?” he asked, lifting the coffee.
Bucky was taken back to the first time he’d bought him coffee and couldn’t keep in a smile. “Just thought you’d appreciate it,” he said, and looked back at the TV.
There was silence for a couple more minutes, then Clint carefully said, “I thought that stuff was just to get me to date you.”
Bucky forced himself to stay relaxed with every drop of willpower he had. “Nope, it was mostly just to make you smile.”
“Right,” said Clint, sounding unsure. “Okay.”
Another few minutes passed, in which time someone managed to fuck up baking a pie so spectacularly that even Bucky thought he could do better.
“So, do you wanna fuck?” asked Clint, and Bucky turned to stare at him. Clint was looking at him with a frown, as if trying to work out some kind of complex math equation.
“No,” said Bucky in a hoarse voice, then cleared his throat. “Not as a casual thing.”
Clint made a frustrated noise. “Casual is the only thing I know how to do.”
“I know,” said Bucky, and he felt his heart break that tiniest bit more. “I get that now. I didn’t get you coffee so you’d fuck me, I told you. I just wanted to make you smile.”
Clint didn’t look any less confused. “Okay,” he said, and stared down at the coffee again.
“It’s not that weird to want to make your friends happy, is it?” asked Bucky.
“I guess not,” said Clint, and some of the confusion cleared from his face.
Bucky turned back to the TV, but he could feel Clint’s gaze watching him for a bit longer.
Well, fuck it. He wasn’t going to stop making Clint smile just because Clint didn’t know how to handle it. Bucky figured he’d get used to it eventually.
And okay, maybe Bucky got caught staring at Clint’s face when he laughed, or his shoulders as he shot, or his gentleness as he petted the dogs, but he was only human. Besides, it wasn’t hurting anyone. Clint didn’t even notice half the time, although the times when he did always seemed to take him by surprise, as if Bucky hadn’t been pretty clear about how he felt.
What wasn’t easy was that Clint was still fucking anyone and everyone who seemed even vaguely interested and he clearly had no idea just how much Bucky could hear through the walls.
Bucky kept telling himself that he should talk to Tony about soundproofing, or move his bedroom into one of his other rooms, or even just start going up to Steve’s apartment when Clint had someone over, but instead he spent night after night lying in bed listening to Clint and whoever had come over. Logan from the X-Men, who always made it sound as if furniture was going to get broken, Jessica Drew, who was loud enough that Bucky was pretty sure even non-supersoldiers would have heard her cries, and Natasha after most missions, and Bucky could only imagine just how flexible that sex was.
He spent a lot of time imagining things about it, mostly inserting himself into the picture instead of whoever Clint had over. That one night they’d shared together had left him with a whole range of sensations to replay, as well as a fair few ideas for things Bucky wished he’d had the opportunity to try out with Clint.
Fuck, there was so much he wanted to do with him and that he was pretty sure Clint would be up for if Bucky just asked. But as soon as they were done, Clint would just grin at Bucky the same way he did after a Mario Kart match and roll out of bed as if it meant the same to him as a computer game.
Because it would mean the same to him. Bucky was the one that would be left trying to hold his heart together, because the more time passed, the more he realised this wasn’t just a crush. He was in love with Clint.
Fuck, why did he have to go and fall for him? If he hadn’t let his feelings get involved, he could be having as much casual sex with Clint as all the others were: having a good time, working out his tension, and then heading back to his room with a smile on his face and no lingering emotions dragging him down.
There was a tap on his door, then Clint came in without waiting for a response. “Hey, want to play Halo?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
Bucky dumped the book he’d been staring at while daydreaming about Clint.
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” he said, standing up.
Clint snorted as they headed over to his rooms, where he had all the games consoles set up. Bucky had watched Clint and Tony arguing over wires for half an hour before he’d decided he’d just head to Clint’s any time he wanted to play rather than getting his own set up, because it all looked like more hassle than it was worth. Besides, Clint was the only one he really wanted to play with, so why bother having his own consoles?
“No way, man, this victory is going to be mine.”
“Not a chance,” said Bucky.
Victory didn’t really end up being either of theirs. They were close enough that it went to best of three, then best of five, then a furious argument over whether or not Clint had pulled an illegal move by elbowing Bucky at a crucial moment followed by a game that was more wrestling than anything else. Bucky threw his whole body against Clint’s, desperately tapping buttons as he forced him into the arm of the sofa while Clint protested and tried to shove him back.
“Fucking cheating cheater!” said Clint, jabbing a swift blow into Bucky’s gut and shoving him off while he was distracted by trying to breathe.
“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” said Bucky, recovering his position on the sofa, body pressed close to Clint’s all the way down their sides as Clint jostled him with his knee and Bucky knocked their shoulders together in response.
Every nerve in Bucky’s body was lit up with happiness and satisfaction. What the hell had he been thinking before, that getting to fuck Clint occasionally was worth giving this up for? Just because he and Clint were friends didn’t mean he wasn’t still getting almost everything he wanted, being with him like this, hearing his half-laughing swearing as Bucky successfully took him out again, then having to duck out of the way of his controller as he aimed it at Bucky’s head.
Bucky killed Clint’s character again just as he respawned and Clint let out a growl of frustration that ran right down Bucky’s spine, declared, “Fuck this,” and dumped his controller in favour of tackling Bucky right off the sofa.
Bucky let him, barely fighting back because he was laughing too hard, and let Clint pin him down to the carpet.
“You’re not winning this one,” Clint told Bucky as his whole body pressed down against Bucky’s.
Bucky relaxed underneath him and couldn’t stop himself from smiling up at him with what had to be a disgustingly smitten look. He just felt so light when they horseplayed like this, as if a little bit of fucking about was enough to push aside all the dark in his past.
“I think I already have,” he said, and maybe he didn’t mean the game so much, maybe he meant getting to be like this with Clint. It definitely felt like winning to be the reason Clint was smiling.
Clint snorted, adjusting his grip on Bucky’s wrists and yeah, maybe Bucky was also enjoying this for another, dirtier reason, but that was between him and the jerk off session he’d be having once he headed back to his own room.
Or that was what he thought, right up until Clint leaned in and kissed him.
Bucky couldn’t keep from kissing him back, opening up to Clint’s tongue and letting him take control, just like he had on their night together, surprise and exhilaration blanking his mind of everything but the feel of Clint’s lips, the press of his body against Bucky’s, the way he was still holding Bucky’s wrists down.
And then Clint pulled away and gave Bucky the exact same smirk he’d seen aimed at half the superhero community. “Wanna fuck?”
It was a sharp wrench back to reality. Bucky took a moment to pretend he could do this, could let Clint take him to bed and fuck him as if it didn’t mean anything, and then he pulled all his willpower together.
Clint blinked and then sat back, letting go of Bucky’s hands. “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck, sorry. I don’t- I don’t know why I did that.” He scrambled up to his feet. “Fuck!” he swore sharply, running his hand over his hair to the back of his head. “I’m such a fuck up, sorry.”
Bucky lay still, feeling the loss of Clint’s warmth and weight across every part of him. “It’s okay,” he said, and made himself get up. “Just what you’re used to doing, I guess.”
And maybe that came out more bitter than he’d intended, because Clint winced. “No, that’s-” Clint shook his head. “I’m not a dick. I have a lot of sex, but it’s only with people who want it. If someone says no, or is clear they’re not interested, I let it go.”
The problem was that Bucky did want it. He wanted it so badly that part of him, a big part, wanted to step in close and kiss Clint again, but he knew that would only end up hurting.
“I don’t want it like this,” he said softly, and Clint looked even more anguished, which Bucky’s heart really couldn’t cope with right now. He just wanted to take him in his arms and hold him until he was relaxed and happy again, like he had been barely moments ago. “Look, it’s been a good night, but I’m gonna go, okay? I’ll see you at the range tomorrow.”
Clint gave him a distraught look that Bucky wasn’t sure he’d earned, and nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and Bucky escaped back to his room.
Maybe he should be putting more boundaries on how he acted around Clint. As great as it felt to wrestle with him and feel his body close like that, it wasn’t worth this heartache afterwards.
He slumped on to his bed and sank his head into his hands. God, why couldn’t this be just a little bit easier?
Bucky scowled at the target and set about his own practice, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that their friendship wasn’t going to survive now that Bucky had highlighted his feelings again. Clint probably just had a mission or some SHIELD business or something. It wasn’t as if Clint ever got up that early in the morning for any other reason.
When Clint didn’t come back for the rest of the day though, and still wasn’t back the next morning, Bucky couldn’t keep the ice-cold feeling in his stomach from spreading. He’d somehow managed to fuck everything up, he knew it.
“Has Clint got a mission?” he asked as casually as he could manage at dinner that evening.
Natasha shot him a very knowing look. “Not that I’ve heard,” she said, which meant no. Clint and Natasha always told each other their missions, no matter how much Hill scowled at them over it. Clint told Bucky once that they’d started keeping each other informed when Natasha was a new agent and didn’t fully trust SHIELD not to send her into a trap, and then never given up the habit.
“Besides, if I ever end up royally fucked on a mission, I’d much prefer to have Natasha coming after me than SHIELD,” he’d said. “She’s not going to let ‘the greater good’ or whatever get in the way of rescuing me so she can yell at me.”
“Sometimes he just needs some space,” said Natasha, and Bucky tried not to let that feel like a personal attack.
“Or he’s off fucking someone,” said Tony cheerfully. Natasha glared at him. “What? Come on, it’s not like we weren’t all thinking it. That guy answers more booty calls than the receptionist at Doc Martens.”
Suddenly, Bucky wasn’t all that hungry. “Excuse me,” he muttered, got up and escaped to his room.
Fuck. This had got out of hand. Why the hell had he let himself hope? All he’d done was let his feelings grow from an inconvenience to a real problem, and now he’d managed to chase Clint away from his home.
Or Clint really had just hooked up with someone and been having a marathon sex session since yesterday morning and, fuck, Bucky didn’t want that to be true, but at least it would mean that he was happy.
And more than anything, he did want Clint to be happy.
He pulled out the beer he kept in the fridge for Clint and settled down in front of the TV, trying to drown out his emotions with some mindless movie, while drinking shitty beer that wasn’t going to do fuck all to get him drunk. It just seemed like that kind of night.
The movie had ended and an even worse one had begun, and Bucky was considering abandoning the beer and just necking some whiskey when there was a knock on his door. He glanced at the clock and wondered who the hell would bother him at this time of night, then sighed when the answer came to him.
“Fuck off, Steve!” he called, and took another swig of beer.
“It’s not Steve!” called back Clint’s voice, and Bucky sat upright so quickly he spilled beer on his pants.
He jumped to his feet and strode over to throw open the door. “Where the fuck have you been?” he asked, and then took in Clint’s appearance.
He looked like shit. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing when Bucky had last seen him, sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair was a mess and clearly hadn’t been washed in a few days, and there were dark shadows under his eyes and stress lines on his face.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked, without waiting for an answer to his first question.
Clint shrugged. “Just been doing some thinking. Can I come in?”
Bucky threw open his door and gestured him in. “If just thinking ends with you looking this shit, I think I just worked out why you always act so dumb.”
Clint rolled his eyes as he came inside and shut the door behind himself, then hesitated as he looked at the sofa. That set all of Bucky’s nerves on edge, because Clint hadn’t ever been hesitant about coming into Bucky’s space and making himself at home.
He didn’t say anything though, because there was something tentative about Clint’s stance that made him think of skittish animals and the last thing he wanted was to scare him off. He just went back to his spot on the sofa and picked up his beer, waving it vaguely at Clint. “If you want some shitty beer, there’s more in the fridge.”
Clint moved closer, shaking his head. “Nah, tempting as that sounds, I’m good.” He hovered for a minute, then sat on the opposite end of the sofa. “I, uh. I wanted to talk to you.”
Shit. Bucky really had fucked up.
“Carol called me yesterday,” said Clint.
Bucky ran through the list of people he’d known Clint to fuck, then admitted defeat. “Who?”
“Carol Danvers,” said Clint. “She’s usually, uh, way out of town, but she’s down here for a few weeks, and she and her wife, sometimes they like to spice things up a bit, you know? Bring in reinforcements.”
“Good for them,” said Bucky in a tight voice, because he’d let too many feelings get too close to the surface to be able to hide them now.
“And usually I’m all over that,” continued Clint. “I mean, two hot military ladies using you as a glorified sex toy, what’s not to love, right? Except, I just wasn’t in the mood. And I don’t- I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in the mood.”
“Maybe you’re not getting enough vitamins,” said Bucky as neutrally as he could. “Maybe try eating something other than pizza once in a while?”
Clint shook his head impatiently. “No it’s not- I mean, fuck you for suggesting pizza could ever have a downside, but it’s not that. I went over there anyway, because that’s what I do, right? I didn’t even really think about it, just went, and then they were getting me a drink and talking about who was going to ride my dick first and I just. I realised I didn’t want it. So I left, and I’ve been just walking around trying to understand it.”
Bucky had no idea where this was going but it was pretty clear from the tone of Clint’s voice and the way his fingers were clenched together that this was a big deal for him. “You don’t always have to be in the mood,” he said cautiously. “It doesn’t make you weird to want a quiet night instead.”
“I know,” said Clint. “I do, I know that, it’s just I never have. And it wasn’t that I wanted a quiet night, anyway, it was that-” He cut himself off and took a deep breath, then fixed Bucky with an intense look. “I wanted a quiet night with you,” he said softly. “I just wanted to be back here watching Dog Cops or some shitty movie, or playing computer games and getting stupid about it. With you.”
It felt like all the air had gone out of the room. Clint couldn’t possibly mean that how it sounded, could he?
Bucky carefully set his beer down. “We can do that,” he said. “I’ve already got a shitty movie playing, after all. You can hang out with a friend tonight instead of getting laid and no one’s going to judge you.”
“I don’t want to hang out with a friend,” said Clint in a low voice, then he reached out and took Bucky’s hand with a sudden movement, clutching tightly at it. “I want to hang out with a boyfriend.”
There was a buzzing in Bucky’s ears. “What?” he asked dumbly, because there was no way Clint could actually mean that.
Except Clint’s fingers were still gripping Bucky’s, tense and just a little bit sweaty, and Clint was staring at him with a terrified expression, still perched on the edge of the sofa as if ready to run at the first sign he was making a mistake.
“I changed my mind,” said Clint. “I do want to go on a date with you.”
Bucky carefully wrapped the hand Clint wasn’t gripping, his left one, around both of their hands, just holding on for a moment as he got his head around that.
“We can definitely do that,” he said. “Whenever you want.”
Clint managed a weak smile. “Maybe tomorrow?” he asked. “I don’t want to interrupt your shitty movie right now, you’re clearly really invested.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re just sad you missed the beginning,” he said. “Go and get yourself a beer and I’ll restart it.”
Clint’s face lit up and he squeezed Bucky’s hand. “That sounds good,” he said, then leapt up and dashed off to the kitchen.
Bucky took the chance to take a deep breath and remind himself not to fuck this chance up, then put the movie back to the beginning, because it wasn’t like he’d been paying much attention anyway.
When Clint came back he had a new beer for Bucky as well as one of his own, and he dropped beside him on the sofa a lot closer than their normal habit. He settled into Bucky’s side then, more casually than Bucky would have credited him with, slung an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him in close.
“This okay?” he asked.
Bucky leaned in to the warm curve of his body. “More than,” he said, and didn’t bother trying to hide the happiness in his voice.
“And what about this?” asked Clint, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips.
Bucky smiled at him. “That’s even more okay,” he said and didn’t wait for Clint to move before leaning up to kiss him again, pressing it deeper and taking his time to try and express just how much he was feeling right now.
“Okay,” said Clint breathlessly when he pulled away, and cleared his throat. “I’m not sure we’re going to be taking in much of this movie.”
Bucky shrugged. “Gotta keep our priorities straight, right?”
Clint snorted. “Not exactly straight,” he said, then moved in to kiss Bucky again.
Clint was right. By the time the credits were rolling on the movie Bucky didn’t know a damn thing about the plot, or even the main character’s name, but he had taken the time to fully memorise Clint’s mouth.
He was leaning back against the arm of the sofa with Clint lying half on top of him, giving him long, languid kisses while Bucky stroked his hands over Clint’s back and tried to hide how much his toes were curling with arousal and happiness.
Clint pulled back once the TV had fallen silent and they couldn’t kid themselves that they were still watching anything. “So I desperately want to suggest that we take this to the bedroom, but, uh, I also kinda don’t want to?”
Bucky snorted, running his hands back up Clint’s spine. “I’m guessing this is a new thing for you.”
Clint shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah. First I walked away from two hot ladies looking to fuck my brains out, and now I just want to keep kissing you until you’re all relaxed and smiling, and leave it at that.”
“I told you,” said Bucky, “you’re allowed to not be in the mood.”
“Oh, I’m in the mood,” said Clint in a low, rough voice that instantly put Bucky in the mood as well. He pushed his hips against Bucky’s and Bucky felt the whole length of the erection he’d been pretending wasn’t pressed against him. “Just…” Clint shrugged, then pulled away from Bucky to sit up. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to wait until we’ve been on a date? Which doesn’t make any sense, why the hell would I want to wait?”
Bucky sat up, pulling away to prop himself up against the couch arm. “Because you’ve had plenty of one-night flings and you want this to be different?” he asked. “Because we’ve got a date scheduled for tomorrow and you don’t want to be worn out for it? Because,” he had to take a deep breath before saying this one, because it felt like a big assumption given that Clint had only changed his mind about this today, “this feels like it deserves more than jumping into bed immediately?”
Clint gave him a long look, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “All of that. Well, no, because no way I’d be worn out, c’mon, but yeah, the rest of it. I don’t- Bucky. I’ve never done this kinda thing before. I don’t even think I know how.”
Bucky took his hand. “As long as you want it, we can figure it out together.”
“I want it,” said Clint immediately. “I want you.” He ran a hand over his hair to the back of his head. “I just don’t want to fuck. Huh.”
“Do you want to make love?” asked Bucky, pushing all the earnest, saccharine emotion of a romcom lead actress into his tone.
Clint rolled his eyes and smacked his leg with the back of his hand. “Asshole,” he said, and stood up. “For that you’re not getting a good night kiss.”
Bucky just grinned at him because he’d had a whole hell of a lot of kisses that evening and he reckoned he could stand to wait a day for another one.
It turned out he didn’t have to. “Fuck,” muttered Clint, “you and your fucking hot smirk,” and he leaned in to give Bucky one last, thorough kiss before pulling away and taking a step back, as if afraid he’d end up staying if he were too close. “Good night, then.”
“Night,” said Bucky. “See you tomorrow.”
Clint ducked a nod at him, then scuttled out the door.
Bucky just relaxed back against the sofa and tried to work out how the hell something this good was happening to him.
The door was yanked open fast enough that Clint must have been hovering by it. All of Bucky’s fear immediately evaporated because he was dressed in the kind of smart clothes that meant he’d roped Natasha into helping him get ready, and he looked twice as nervous as Bucky was.
“Uh. Hi,” he said, gripping the door with white knuckles.
Bucky gave him the smirk that he’d complained about the night before. “Good evening, doll,” he said. “You look incredible.”
Clint glanced down at his outfit as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Um. Thanks,” he said, then focused on Bucky’s. “So do you,” he added, and there was a breathless quality to his tone that made Bucky think, smugly, that his many outfit changes had been worth it.
“I got you these,” he added, and handed over the bunch of violets that he’d gotten after far too long debating over whether or not they’d be appropriate. He’d always been taught that you took flowers on a first date after all, and besides, he wanted Clint to feel special. He wanted him to know how grateful Bucky was that he’d changed his mind.
“Oh,” said Clint, taking them with a wide-eyed look. “I don’t. Um. I don’t know that I even have a vase.”
Bucky snorted. “I know you’ve got at least three spare coffee pots, use one of those.”
“They’re not spare,” objected Clint immediately, just like Bucky had known he would. “I told you, they have sentimental value.”
“You’re the only fella I know who gets sentimental about coffee,” said Bucky, and he couldn’t keep the note of fondness out of his voice.
Clint rolled his eyes at him, apparently done with his nerves for now, and went to put the flowers inside.
The awkwardness came back when they got to the restaurant. Clint sat down as if the chair might explode, then picked up his menu and immediately put it down again. “Uh,” he said, then froze up when Bucky looked at him. “How was your day?” he asked in a rush.
Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?” he said. “Clint, you were around for most of it.”
They’d spent a couple of hours in the range, which should have felt completely familiar but somehow was a whole new experience when Clint went out of his way to distract Bucky with just how sexy he looked while shooting, instead of doing it entirely by accident. They’d ended up making out against a wall until Sam came in and they’d had to pull apart in a rush and pretend they were hard at work.
Sam hadn’t been fooled for a moment.
Clint let out a sigh. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “Sorry, I just don’t know how this is meant to go.” He shrugged, looking painfully self-conscious. “This is my first date.”
Bucky stared at him. “Ever?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Clint. “I don’t know, I just always sorta fell into relationships by hooking up a few times and then trying to make a go of it until it, you know, crumbled. And I haven’t even done that in years, just hook-ups.” He shrugged again. “So, you know. Sorry if I’m shit at it.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “How many dates do you think I’ve been on?” he asked. “Real ones, I mean. I used to take plenty of girls out dancing, but never anyone I actually wanted to be with.”
“Huh,” said Clint, looking as if he hadn’t once considered that. “So we’re both making this up as we go along.”
“We’ve been out together tons before,” Bucky reminded him. “And we always have a pretty good time. Maybe don’t get hung up on the date part, and just enjoy yourself?”
“Okay,” said Clint. “Yeah, okay.” He picked up the menu again. “In that case, there better be some pizza in here, or I’m gonna sulk.”
“There’s three pages,” said Bucky. “Like hell I was going to take you on a date that didn’t involve pizza.”
Clint looked up from the menu and smiled at him, and that right there was why this was never going to feel like just another night hanging out with him to Bucky. He was so handsome, and he was here with Bucky, wanting to try something completely new just for him. Just the thought of it left Bucky breathless.
Dinner was easy after that. They talked as easily as they ever had, joking about and teasing each other, but there was a different note to it. When Bucky shifted his foot under the table next to Clint’s, Clint pressed his back against Bucky’s, and gave him an unexpectedly shy smile.
They walked back to the Tower, taking a short-cut through Central Park, and when Bucky reached out for Clint’s hand he let him take it and even squeezed back, looking about as happy as Bucky had ever seen him.
When they got to the Tower, Bucky put a hand on Clint’s back to guide him into the elevator, trying not think about the parallels between this moment and the one just before Clint had rejected him last time. Clint knew how Bucky felt now, and this was a real date, not just a product of Bucky’s desperate yearning.
“You did that before,” said Clint as the elevator doors slid shut, turning to look at Bucky and taking the hand that had been on his back. “Oh man, I don’t want to know how many signs I missed that you were trying to flirt with me, do I?”
Bucky snorted. “Not really, no,” he said. “I mean, it kinda felt obvious when I took you to play with rescue dogs.”
“Yeah, okay,” agreed Clint. “Guess I was dumb. In my defence, I don’t think anyone’s bothered flirting like that with me before.”
Bucky highly doubted that. “Or they did, and you didn’t notice so they gave up,” he said. Man, he was so glad he hadn’t given up.
“Maybe,” said Clint, although he didn’t sound that sure about it. Bucky privately thought that anyone stupid enough not to put the effort in to making sure Clint knew just how great he was didn’t deserve to be with hm in the first place.
The elevator opened on their floor and Bucky followed Clint out, then paused when they reached Clint’s door. “So, am I coming in, or are we waiting for the third date?” he asked, doing his best to sound as if he’d be equally happy with either choice, because it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already had just about the best evening he could remember. “I give a pretty mean good night kiss.”
Clint rolled his eyes. “Hell no,” he said, looping his fingers through Bucky’s belt and tugging him closer. “I waited nearly twenty-four hours. That’s more than long enough.”
He opened the door and pulled Bucky after him as he went inside. Bucky was more than happy to follow.
They didn’t get much further than the doorway, because Clint pushed Bucky up against the wall and moved in close, hands curving around Bucky’s jaw to frame his face. “This is okay, right?” he asked.
“So okay,” said Bucky, putting a hand around the back of Clint’s neck to pull him down into a kiss.
It felt like the floodgates had opened and everything Bucky had ever dreamed about doing with Clint, all his pent-up desires, came flowing out. They kissed against the wall until they were both breathless and wanting, with Bucky’s hands buried under Clint’s shirt and Clint’s thigh pressing against Bucky’s erection.
“Bedroom,” Bucky managed between kisses, and Clint nodded.
“Yep, definitely,” he said, and peeled himself away then grabbed Bucky’s arm to tug him towards the bedroom, half-tripping in his haste.
Bucky wasn’t sure how they got their clothes off, only that it seemed like he blinked in between kisses and they were both naked, sprawled out on Clint’s bed and still kissing as if they’d die without the taste of each other’s lips.
“Is this okay?” asked Clint, hands running over Bucky’s chest.
“Oh yeah,” said Bucky, arching up into his touch, then dragging him down into another kiss. He could feel Clint’s erection pressing against his hip, hard and hot and starting to leak, and he moved against it, remembering how it had felt to have Clint’s cock in his hand, how he’d looked as he’d come.
He wanted to see that again.
Clint leaned down and kissed Bucky’s neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, albeit only a temporary one, before moving down to his collarbone, and Bucky remembered how he’d taken him apart last time.
“Still okay?” Clint asked between kisses, and Bucky wondered how long it would take him to realise that anything he did was okay with Bucky.
Except that what they had done last time, when Clint had taken him apart so completely, wasn’t what Bucky wanted this time.
“It’s all okay,” he said, “but…” He wrapped his arms around Clint’s shoulders and rolled them so that he was on top instead, “how about we try this instead?” He leaned in and kissed the surprised look off Clint’s face. “I want to make you come apart,” he said softly against his lips and kissed him again swiftly, before moving down to kiss Clint’s chest and his nipples which were flushed red with arousal.
“Yeah, okay,” agreed Clint breathlessly, tipping his head back and pushing up against Bucky’s mouth. “Fuck. Yeah, whatever you want, Bucky.”
God, Bucky wanted so much. “I want to taste you,” he said, then ran his tongue over the lines of Clint’s abs, tracing his hands down the sides of his body as he moved down the bed, “and then I want to ride your cock.”
Because he’d been thinking about it ever since Clint had mentioned Carol and her wife debating it yesterday.
“Oh fuck,” said Clint. “Yeah, definitely, that all sounds good.”
Bucky grinned at him, hands on Clint’s hips as he looked up at him from between his legs, then leaned in and swallowed Clint’s cock down, relishing the gasped noise Clint made. This time he was going to be the one getting Clint to make all those noises that he usually only heard muffled through the wall.
Clint didn’t hold back. Not that Bucky had thought he would, but listening to the way he panted and moaned as Bucky sucked him off, taking his time to trace his tongue over his cock and taste every part of him, hearing every tiny stuttering breath so close and perfectly audible, was like a gift he hadn’t realised he wanted this much.
It only got better from there. Bucky knelt over Clint as he fingered himself open for Clint’s cock and Clint ran his hands over Bucky’s thighs, stroking his skin as if it were something to be worshiped rather than just studded with too many scars. He kept telling Bucky in a low heartfelt voice that he was gorgeous, that every move he made was turning Clint on more, that Clint couldn’t get over how much he wanted this.
Bucky’s natural reaction was to deny all that but the tone of Clint’s voice, the low reverence and awed honesty, was hard to ignore. Instead, he rolled a condom on Clint’s cock and then held it steady as he sank down onto it, cutting off Clint’s soft words as he gasped out a groan, hands clenching around Bucky’s hips.
“Oh fuck, fuck, Bucky, you feel so good.”
“You too,” said Bucky with the tiny bit of breath he could spare from just how incredible it felt to have Clint’s cock inside him, filling him up. He couldn’t remember any of the frantic fumbles he’d had before the war being like this, and certainly nothing was ever going to compare to the joy of having Clint beneath him, clinging on and gasping as he stared up at Bucky like he was the second coming.
“Please tell me you’re gonna move at some point,” said Clint desperately, fingers tightening their grip, but he didn’t move his hips to push up at all, didn’t rush Bucky as he took the time to adjust. Fuck, Bucky loved him so much.
“Hold your horses,” he said, and rose up to drop back down, pulling another beautiful noise out of Clint. Fuck, he could do this all day, just let himself revel in the feel of Clint inside him while listening to the sounds he made as they started to find a rhythm. Bucky shifted to lean forward and rest his weight on his hands so that it was easier to thrust down, enjoying the feeling of Clint’s cock rubbing just exactly where he needed it.
“Fuck, fuck, Bucky,” gasped Clint, flushing red all the way down to his chest. “Not gonna take long.”
“Thought you were all up for being ridden by two dames,” said Bucky. “Where’s that stamina gone?”
Clint gripped tightly at Bucky’s waist. “That wasn’t you,” he said. “Fuck, feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this.”
Bucky rewarded that by speeding up his movements, rolling his hips in a way that must have felt pretty good to Clint because he moaned and pressed up into it.
“You gonna come for me?” asked Bucky. “C’mon, Clint, I want to see it.”
“Not until you do,” said Clint, and ran his hand over Bucky’s skin to his achingly hard cock, wrapping his fingers around it and pulling on it just right and, fuck, now Bucky was the one who wasn’t going to last long.
He groaned and pressed down against Clint’s cock then up into the grip of his hand, chasing both sensations. Clint rocked his hips up just as he ran his thumb over the head of Bucky’s cock, and that was it, all it took. Bucky came with a groan, come spilling out over Clint’s hand, and Bucky rocked down to grind against his cock as he did, clenching as pleasure rushed through him.
Apparently that was enough for Clint because he was coming a moment later with a cry that Bucky wanted to hear all the time, every hour of every day, and most importantly, from this side of the wall.
“Jesus,” said Clint weakly, and Bucky completely agreed. He pulled away from Clint, wincing at the sensation, then collapsed down onto the bed next to him.
“That was pretty good,” he mumbled into the pillow.
Clint managed a faint laugh. “Yeah,” he agreed. There was the quiet sounds of him taking off and discarding the condom, then he turned over and wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him in to rest against his chest. Bucky happily snuggled in against him, feeling the sweat of their two bodies rubbing together, and the way both of their heartbeats were slowly recovering. There was come drying on his stomach and lube making his ass sticky, but he didn’t care about any of that right now, not when he had Clint’s arms around him. He ran a slow hand over Clint’s side, down to curl around his hip, and let himself just relax into this perfect moment, when it felt like he had everything he could possibly want.
“Uh, so, you want to stay the night?” asked Clint, more awkwardly than Bucky would have guessed he could get about anything sex-related.
Except sleeping together wasn’t about sex, not really. Bucky thought about how, no matter how many people Clint brought back here, no one was ever still there at breakfast, and smiled into Clint’s shoulder.
“Yeah, might as well,” he said, pressing a kiss to the nearest bit of skin, which was Clint’s shoulder. “It’s kind of a long way home, after all.”
Clint snorted. “Yeah, can’t make you go all that way at this time of night,” he agreed. “Something bad might happen.”
“Can’t imagine anything worse than having to leave this bed right now,” said Bucky, because he might as well put voice to his feelings now that he was allowed. He wanted Clint to know exactly how he felt, after all, to make it clear just how different this was to all the other people who had shared his bed.
Clint didn’t reply immediately, but Bucky was content to just snuggle in and let the moment pass, because it wasn’t like Clint’s actions hadn’t made it clear how he felt about this, even if he found the words harder.
After a few moments, as Bucky’s eyes were dropping shut, Clint let out a long breath and said, “Yeah,” in a low, happy voice, then leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head.
Bucky smiled, and stroked his fingers affectionately against Clint’s skin. God, he really fucking loved this guy.
The Fantastic Four came out to help as well, which meant it was barely any time before the AIM minions were being marched into prison trucks, still stupidly chanting about their superiority like they hadn’t had their asses kicked. Bucky was standing next to Clint, wondering how long it would be before Steve let them head back to the Tower, when Johnny Storm flew over.
“Hey, Hawkeye,” he called, hovering a few feet off the ground. “That was kind of an anticlimax. Wanna fuck?”
Clint grinned up at him. “Nope,” he said, with immense satisfaction, and Bucky couldn’t hold back his smug smile.
“What?” asked Johnny with genuine surprise, landing on the road and turning his flame off. “C’mon, you always want to fuck.”
“Not any more,” said Clint, and the smirk he turned on Bucky was just shit-eating enough to prepare him for the way he said, “Now I just wanna make love.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, but the glee of hearing Clint say that, even as a joke, was too much to keep a smile off his face.
“Seriously?” asked Johnny. “I mean, congrats and all that, but wow, Clint, I didn’t think you were the relationship type.”
“Neither did I,” said Clint, and as he kept staring at Bucky his grin lost its smugness and started heading for besotted. Bucky couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to take his hand.
Johnny let out a sigh. “Oh man, I get enough of this shit at home,” he muttered, then flamed on and took off again.
“I think you’re gonna have to send out a mass text or something,” Bucky said.
“Maybe a Facebook post,” agreed Clint. “‘Hawkeye Booty Calls, Inc. is no longer in business, go chat up a stranger in a bar like everyone else.’”
“I’m not sure you really understand how everyone else works, but okay,” said Bucky, then gave Clint’s hand a tug to pull him in close enough to wrap his arms around. “Hey, how much PDA do you think we can get away with before Steve loses his temper and sends us home?”
“Let’s find out,” said Clint, and leaned in to kiss him.
It turned out to be not much at all.
Given that meant they got to go home, where Clint pulled Bucky into his rooms so he could fuck out the leftover adrenalin from the fight, Bucky really didn’t mind so much.