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Clint and Sam walked into the common room of the Avengers compound, chatting quietly about their thoughts for some changes to Redwing’s evasion patterns following their latest training session.
Bucky and Natasha were standing not far into the room, barely 20 feet, and Clint stepped between them, slinging one arm around each of their shoulders and starting to ask, “Hey guys, what’s up?” but he broke off when he saw what they could see. Natasha’s left hand lifted to stop Sam with a touch to his bicep as he went to walk by them to the fridge.
Steve and Tony were on the other side of the large, open space by the floor to ceiling windows standing at a slight angle to each other and away from the room as they talked.
A quick glance told Clint that they were clearly discussing something but they were being careful about it. There were long gaps between each other talking which suggested they were choosing their words carefully, their voices subdued enough that Clint couldn’t hear them although he’d lay money on Bucky being able to make out every word, and the angle they were at made lip reading all but impossible. And they were both so still. There was very little animation in either of them, both tamping down hard on the way they tended to talk to each other with their hands as well as their voices, although their body language was open and friendly enough.
“What are they arguing about now?”
“Not arguing,” Bucky and Natasha replied together.
Clint rolled his eyes and sighed. “What are they discussing in a polite, cilvilised and adult manner befitting two professional work colleagues who appreciate the value of each other’s opinion this time?
“Well,” Bucky began, “I’m not sure what they started out with but when I arrived I heard Steve mention that they’d changed the urinal cakes in the mens restroom in the diner in town. Stark thinks he’d prefer the new cinnamon scented ones Steve said they had. Steve thinks tradition should stand for something and wanted to know what’s so bad about sticking with lemon scented. He reckons it smells cleaner.”
“There was something about wattage and colour quality of the light fittings in the garage when I arrived,” Natasha added. “Now they’re on to the relative merits of sporks versus spoons in the field ration packs.”
“Stark is never going to win that one,” Bucky continued. “Steve hates sporks on principle. Always has. It’s a whole thing with him. He’s very particular about his cutlery.”
“Uh-huh.” Clint gave Bucky a critical stare, still not quite able to judge when Bucky was being serious or when he was fucking with them. Bucky’s poker face was just too good. “So are they actively thinking of things to arg…” He stopped himself before anyone else had the chance. “...discuss now?”
Bucky popped the p on his answer. “Yup.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Some half baked theory about how if they can practise on sorting out the small stuff they disagree on without resorting to yelling and name calling and hair pulling and going off half cocked to follow through with their own ideas then when the big stuff comes around it should be easier."
"And they came up with that all on their own?" Natasha asked.
At Bucky’s nodded assent Clint sighed. "At least they could agree on something."
"Steve was partial to a bit of hair pulling when we were making time. Used to moan so sweetly for me. Course, he wore it a little longer back before the war."
Bucky looked over when he felt Clint and Sam staring at him. "What? It's new information." He lifted his hand to flap it close to head, his face was a wide eyed picture of innocence not seen outside Puss in Boots in Shrek 2. "It helps it stick if I say it out loud. My court mandated therapist says so."
A slightly horrified "Uh huh" was all that Bucky got back from Clint and Sam. Natasha smiled quietly between them.
Bucky looked back to Steve. "Hey, doll,” he said loudly enough to get Steve’s attention. “I remembered something else."
Steve glanced over, his whole expression lightening with a quick smile and a wink, Bucky's tone and use of Steve’s second favourite pet name letting him know it wasn't anything bad or worrisome. "That's great, Buck. We'll talk about it later, okay? Kinda busy right now." He didn’t wait for Bucky’s response, just turned back to Tony, his smile disappearing as he carried on with what he’d been saying previously.
“Steve does forced polite better,” Clint declared after a few moments. “It’s like a whole body thing with him. He just radiates polite and calm. Tony needs to work harder at it to maintain it.”
“He did learn from the best. Peggy could do polite to a fucking terrifying level.” Clint looked at him again as Bucky continued. “And his mom before that, of course.” Bucky smiled fondly. “Sarah Rogers was an even tinier bundle of take no shit from anyone than Steve was. Where do you think he got it from? She was just cleverer with words and never got punched for her trouble.”
They all watched quietly for a few minutes longer until Sam asked, “How long have they been at it?”
Natasha took a quick glance at the clock on the wall before replying. “I got here 30 minutes ago.”
“About 20 for me,” Bucky said. “He was supposed to be grabbing some water and meeting me at the gym. I got bored waiting.”
“Right.” Clint removed his arms from around Natasha’s and Bucky’s shoulder. He lifted Natasha’s arm and pointed it at Tony first, making a ‘bzzzt’ sound as he gave it a slight jerk to simulate a recoil from one of her Widow’s Bites, then shifted his aim to do the same at Steve.
“Taze...,” Clint lifted his other hand to indicate between Steve and Tony, “...floor, drooling…” then twisted his hand back to point between Bucky, himself, Natasha and Sam, “...Dog Cops.”
Natasha smiled. “Probably not how you’re supposed to deal with inter office politics. Could be fun to see though.”
“I’d have given my left arm for a taser in the 30’s. Might’ve got him to stay down and saved me a few bruised knuckles along the way.” Bucky just grinned while Sam stared at him open mouthed. “What’s Dog Cops?”
Clint snorted with laughter as he threw his arm back around Bucky’s shoulders and began guiding him to the couches of the TV area. “Only the best show ever created. You are in for a treat, pal.”