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You Make My Fingers Itch

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“I can't believe you've never been to Ikea.”

“Barton, I've had my head back for all of three months. You really think I've had time to go to a Swedish furniture store?” Bucky snorted.

“Well…” Clint said. “Yeah. Everyone should go to Ikea at least once in their lives. Ikea is something that must be experienced.”

“I’m not really sure that’s such a good idea, Barton,” Phil commented as he passed by.

“Why not?”

“Ikea is designed to restrict visibility and force traffic to adhere to a set pattern. It's not the best place to take someone who requires clear lines of sight,” Phil said sagely.

“Nope, we’re going. You,” he pointed to Phil, “are a worrywart. And you,” he continued, turning to Bucky, “need to furnish that craphole of an apartment. Seriously, your place hurts me. I am pained merely by thinking of it.”

“Will it get you to shut up if I agree with you?” Bucky sighed.

“Not entirely, but it’ll certainly help.”

Coulson sighed. “If you’re going to do this,” he said wearily, “at least take Natasha with you.”

~~~
“Ok, so the first thing you need is lighting.”

“What the hell is an ÄLVÄNGEN?” Bucky asked.

“A floor lamp that is entirely too small for you. You need something more like…” Clint darted forward towards another lamp. “This!” he said, waving his arms at a tall white lamp.

“The Stockholm?” Bucky asked.

“Yes!” Clint grinned brightly. “Nice, right?”

Bucky was silent for a moment. “I once killed three families in Stockholm,” he said quietly.

Clint’s grin faded. “Ok...that’s probably not a good idea. You know what, there’s a lamp that looks like the Death Star. We should totally get you that.”

Natasha snorted.

“Oh come on, Nat. Like that thing’s not awesome,” Clint protested. He gasped. “No, you know what you need? Throw pillows. Lots of throw pillows. In all the colors.”
“Clint, he doesn’t have a couch to put the throw pillows on,” Natasha pointed out.

“Pssh,” Clint scoffed, “details. We’re gonna go get you some throw pillows.” He darted off towards the pillows.

Bucky stared after him. “He’s like a Jack Russell Terrier puppy,” he muttered.

Natasha shrugged. “You get used to it,” she said.

“How long did it take you?” Bucky asked.

“About six months. The first three months, it was really hard not to kill him.”

“How’d you do it?”

“Patience,” she said after a moment. “Lots of patience.”

“Huh,” Bucky said.

“Bucky!” Clint cried as they approached the pillow section. “Lookit what I found!” He threw a pillow towards Bucky.

Bucky caught it instinctively. The pillow was shaped like a heart, with two arms coming out of the sides. “The hell is this?” He asked, confused.

“It’s a Kramratlig,” Clint said delightedly. “It’s a pillow that gives you a hug! It’s adorable! You need it.”

“Barton, you’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

They both froze. A small smile made its way onto Bucky’s face. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”