Chapter Text
Clint’s not going to lie: he’s got a major crush on Bruce.
Like, major. He’s convinced his eyes form the shape of hearts every time Bruce walks into the room. He can’t keep his eyes off the other man. His beautiful face, his sardonic smiles, his curly hair, his soulful brown yes…Bruce is perfect and it kills Clint.
See, Clint’s never been that great at actually talking to people. He’s managed to sleep with a few people, but that almost always goes badly (as a failed marriage and more near-death experiences than he can count attest). Bruce deserves better than that, Clint thinks. He’s just not sure how to give it to him.
Plus, he’s a huge dork who just wants to impress Bruce. Which is why he ends up juggling Bruce’s beakers in the lab.
Bruce observes him stoically, eyes bright with humor as Clint throws the beakers higher and higher.
“What if you drop one?” Bruce asks, mild.
“I won’t,” Clint says. He waggles his eyebrows. Using his foot, he deftly kicks another beaker up and catches it with one hand. He’s got twelve of them going now in a delicate arc. “I was in the circus, so I know a thing or two about juggling.”
“Really?” Bruce seems interested, which makes Clint’s heart skip a beat. Yes! Bruce is interested in him! “Joining the circus was my dream when I was a kid.”
Clint catches one beaker and sets it on his head, keeping the other ones going one-handed. “Why’s that?”
“Usual reasons, I suppose,” Bruce says. His voice is soft. “I didn’t like where I was.”
“What would have been your show?” He catches two more beakers and balances them atop his head.
“Unicycling. I’m pretty good at it.”
“Whoa.” Clint nearly fumbles a beaker, but manages to catch it. He stops juggling and sets them all down before he really does break something. “You can ride a unicycle? That’s awesome. I can’t even do that.”
Bruce shrugs. His cheeks are tinted pink and he’s looking anywhere but at Clint. “It’s no big deal. I practiced a lot. I wanted to get into the circus, after all.”
“Can you show me?”
Bruce’s blush deepens. “I, I mean…”
“Bruce,” Clint wheedles. He flops over the table and gives Bruce the puppy dog eyes. Bruce instantly caves.
“If we can find one, I’ll show you.” He smiles gently and Clint just barely resists the urge to pull him into a kiss.
Tony Stark has a car for every occasion, plus a few other things that just happen to have wheels. Deep in the sub-sub basement is a whole array of bicycles and, for no discernible reason, a unicycle.
Bruce is back to blushing endearingly as Clint wipes the cobwebs off the unicycle. Clint’s grinning ear to ear, way to excited about the prospect of learning more about Bruce’s hidden talents.
“If I’m bad at this you can’t laugh,” Bruce says.
Instantly, Clint giggles. He tries to quash down the response and affect a serious air. “I swear I won’t laugh at you.”
Bruce looks dubious, but he accepts the unicycle. He goes to the center of the garage, in between a handful of motorcycles and a bicycle with an awkwardly huge front wheel. He studies the unicycle in his hands for a moment, checking the chain and the pedals. Apparently it’s good enough because he sets it on the ground, places one foot on the pedal, and next thing Clint knows Bruce is riding around the parking garage.
“Holy shit,” Clint says, stunned.
Bruce is perfect. His balance is astounding, and his back is so straight it makes him look taller. Clint doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bruce hold his chin up so high. It’s a good look on him. He tools around the garage, snaking in between obstacles with quick jerks of his knees. He rides nearly to the opposite wall before peeking over his shoulder, shooting Clint a sly grin the likes of which Clint has never seen from Bruce.
“Dude,” Clint says as Bruce rides back up to him and comes to a stop, hopping down smoothly. “That was…” He can’t quite put into words how much he wants to make out with Bruce right here on the (admittedly grungy) floor of the garage. “Hot,” he says before he can talk himself out of it.
Bruce blinks in surprise and his smile momentarily melts away, replaced by stunned silence. “Hot?”
“I mean,” Clint says quickly. “You know. It was, uh. Very. Warm. Chains on bikes move a lot. Friction. Warm. Probably, you know?” Clint chokes.
Bruce nods. “R-right,” he says. Suddenly he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He goes to lean nonchalantly on the unicycle and nearly falls as it shoots out from under him. Blushing, he catches himself.
It’s so endearingly awkward that Clint giggles nervously again. “Sorry, I just…”
“I really liked your juggling,” Bruce interrupts. He stares intently at the seat of the unicycle. “I also thought it was…hot.” The tips of his ears are bright red.
Clint’s eyes widen, and he grins hugely. “Really?”
“Mm,” Bruce glances over his shoulder, although there’s nothing really to look at. Clint takes solace in the fact that Bruce is just as bad at talking as he is.
“I could do it again,” Clint says, trying to pitch his voice low and sultry. It comes out like a squeak. “If you’d ride that again?” He points at the unicycle.
Bruce nods hastily. “Yes, sure. Sounds like a deal.”
Clint is practically vibrating with giddy energy. He doesn’t know how to stand or what to say, so he says, “Right now?”
Bruce relaxes. “I’d like that.”
There’s an old wrench in the corner, a seat from a bike, a mirror from nothing, and a light cap from the back of a motorcycle. Clint juggles them all, feeling Bruce’s eyes on him. When the wrench is at its peak he hears the unicycle fall and he looks down to see Bruce strolling towards him.
“I just wanted to make this really clear,” Bruce says, hesitant. He steps into Clint’s arms and Clint wastes no time letting the items fall.
“I like you,” Clint blurts out. “Uh…”
Bruce nods. “Me too.” The sounds of the wrench clattering on the floor still reverberate, but both ignore it. “We should–”
“Do this again?” Clint finishes, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to pull Bruce into a hug. He relishes in the feeling of Bruce’s arms around him, nervous and testing, but solid and warm. “Sometime?”
“Right now?” Bruce offers. He sounds peaceful. Relaxed.
Clint nods his agreement. “Now’s good for me.”