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It starts out like this: Bucky, bruised up from his latest disagreement with Steve, in a tight-fitting shirt and even tighter pants, that Natasha had forced him to wear, with a bottle of piss-weak beer held in his metal hand, leaning against the awfully purple walls of Clint Barton's apartment. On the other side of the room is Clint Barton, himself, looking like he hasn't seen a fight or the sun in weeks. Bucky knows better.
Clint had been on some mission for Fury for the better part of three months. Something dangerous enough that it had been cause for a welcome back party when he arrived back on campus yesterday with all his limbs still attached.
It's where he and Natasha are now, anyway. At least three-quarters of the school is in attendance, and he knows it's only going to get busier as the night progresses. Bucky thinks he saw Pym lurking around the drinks table, but he only has eyes for Clint. There's a big purple bruise on Clint's face under the thick layer of concealer that he's starting to sweat off. Bucky wonders what happened.
Maybe he can steal some of that concealer? Because Bucky is ninety percent sure that going everywhere with a black eye and busted lip doesn't add to his 'roguish charm'. Natasha lies. Obviously. People keep crossing the street when they see him, and Bucky is starting to get a complex.
He bets Clint doesn't have that problem.
Clint is talking to a dark-haired girl who looks vaguely familiar while casting very unsubtle glances at Bucky every few seconds. Secret agent Bucky's ass. No wonder he got hit on his latest mission. The girl, Kate Whatever, says something that causes Clint's face to flush and he stops looking at Bucky.
Bucky huffs out a small laugh and takes a sip from his beer to cover it. Natasha pauses ranting (really, gushing) at him about Pepper Potts and her 'infuriatingly soft-looking hair' to give him a quizzical look. Bucky scrambles for an explanation because he knows that look and that look only means doom.
It's too late. With the intensity of a snake poised to strike or a bloodhound catching a scent, Natasha looks him in the eye meaningfully and snaps her head in the direction of a blushing Clint Barton and his cackling friend. A large, almost sinister grin spreads across her face. Bucky's stomach churns at the sight of it.
"So," she begins, turning back to face Bucky. "Barton, huh?"
Bucky lets his head fall back against the wall with a thump and an only slightly dramatic groan. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says.
Natasha hums. "I could set you guys up if you wanted." Bucky tries very hard to smother his smile and all traces of the giddy feeling in his stomach. He tilts his head and looks at her out of the corner of his eye.
It's easier to focus on Tony and Jan serenading each other with eighties love ballads in the wrong key than it is to meet her eyes right now.
"Really?" Bucky asks. God, he sounds so, so hopeful. Gross.
"Totally." Natasha nods in Barton's direction. "Pretty sure he's been into you since you crash tackled Rogers in the quad."
That is... not ideal.
"He isn't expecting me to keep that up, right?" Bucky asks. Steve had yanked his arm out of its socket trying to keep Bucky down with him. Not the metal one either.
"I mean," Natasha sighs sarcastically and long-suffering, "if you aren't willing to constantly fling yourself at much larger opponents like a badly trained pit bull is there any point in dating you at all?"
"That's mean," he says and pouts before the rest of what she's said hits him. Bucky stands straighter and tries to keep his tone flat and neutral. He fails. "Dating? You think he'd want to date me? Me, like, romantically?"
"You're pathetic," Natasha tells him once she's finished silently judging him and probably re-evaluating her friendship choices or something.
"Keep your voice down!" Bucky hisses, whipping his head around to see if anyone heard. He has a reputation to uphold. Clint and Kate Something are openly staring at him. Fuck. Bucky smiles at them and inclines his head in a half-assed nod.
Natasha snorts into her drink but does keep her voice down. "Yes. Dating romantically." She sucks in a breath and Bucky feels his stomach fall out of his ass.
“Don’t,” Bucky almost pleads. Natasha doesn’t so much as glance at him.
“Hey, Barton!” she calls out, loud enough to be heard over the thumping bass and noise filling the room.
Clint points at himself like he hadn’t seen Natasha and Bucky looking at him and there was another Barton nearby. Natasha nods and elbows Bucky to remind him to stop staring blankly at Clint and at least look kind of welcoming.
He leans towards Kate and says something too low for Bucky to pick up. Kate grins and shoves Clint towards them with enough force that he stumbles. Bucky’s breath hitches and he reaches out in an aborted move to catch him, but Clint steadies himself on a passing student, turns his head to scowl at Kate and walks the rest of the way to them.
“What’s uh--What’s going on?” Clint asks, a little breathless, face flushed and stumbling over his words. He’s a total mess for a reason Bucky doesn’t want to place and it’s endearing in a way he won’t admit.
Natasha gives Bucky a pointed look and another nudge. Bucky swallows and opens mouth to say something but closes it quickly when he meets Clint’s very blue eyes.
A small furrow appears between those eyes when Clint frowns, looking concerned. He’s even prettier up close. It’s not fair.
Natasha rolls her eyes when it becomes clear Bucky isn’t going to say anything. “You’ve met James before, right?” she asks.
“Bucky,” he corrects quickly and stomps on her foot. He hates that name. She’s wearing steel caps and it hurts more than it shuts her up.
“Not formally or anything,” Clint says to Natasha, not even bringing attention to the way she steps on Bucky harder. He turns to Bucky and smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners. Bucky takes another sip of his beer to keep him from doing something stupid like dropping to his knees to propose. “We talked a bit on your first day after you, you know...” Clint makes a vague hand gesture that Bucky translates to, ‘tried to beat the shit out of Captain America and got your ass handed to you instead.' Natasha mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘I told you so.’
“I remember,” Bucky reassures Clint because he looks as nervous as Bucky feels. “Sorry about that. Uh, I wasn’t having a great day.” Understatement of the century.
Clint nods, pushes his hands deep into the pockets of his purple hoodie and rocks back onto the heels of his feet. The silence is dragging on and Bucky knows it’s only going to get more awkward. especially now that Natasha has clocked out or something.
Bucky can flirt. He can do this.
“So,” he starts. Clint perks up and meets Bucky’s eyes. Fuck yeah. Bucky is going to woo Barton so hard.
Then, disaster strikes. Clint Barton smiles at him. Smiles soft and happy and sweet. Bucky’s train of thought crashes into a wall and he feels his brain go gooey.
He panics.
“You-uh, you like purple?” Bucky stumbles over the words like he isn’t a trained assassin who can fluently speak seven languages. He doesn’t risk looking at Natasha and seeing her reaction to that gem.
“Is it that obvious?” Clint asks. He sounds embarrassed.
“No!” Bucky thinks about the purple wall, purple hoodie, purple shoes, purple hat and purple rug. “I mean, maybe? Just a little bit.”
Natasha is laughing. He can’t see or hear her but he knows .
“It’s fine. I mean I’ve pretty much got a tag on my bicep,” Bucky says too quickly. He taps at the spot on his metal arm where the bright red star sits hidden by his shirt.
Why the fuck did he say that? It makes him sound like an animal or something.
Bucky doesn’t need Natasha. He is going to destroy his reputation all on his own.
By some miracle or pity, Clint laughs.
“HYDRA having bad taste, who would have guessed?” Clint’s eyes go wide as he seems to realise that he just said the ‘h’ word in front of The Winter Soldier. If it were anyone else, except Natasha, Bucky would have punched them for it. But this is Clint Barton, love of Bucky’s life and star of all his recent fantasies. He gets a pass.
“The mask and goggles they made me wear didn’t give that away?”
Joking about his trauma? Bucky can do that all day. He’s got this.
“I don’t know. I liked the mask.”
Clint’s eyes are twinkling. Twinkling.
“Yeah?” Bucky asks. “You ever see the body suit?” Clint shakes his head and his smile is back. Bucky knows he’s mirroring it even if his own is a little more vicious. “Only part of the uniform I didn’t burn.” Mainly because the suit is drenched in flame retardant and made of something stronger and more flexible than Kevlar that Tony has yet to reproduce.
“That good, huh?” Clint’s eyes are still smiling. It’s a good sign.
Bucky can do this.