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Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel comics or characters or movies, and am making no money off of this fic.
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Get Some Sun by luvsanime02
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Clint Barton’s alarm wakes him up, and he reaches out blindly towards his nightstand. His fingers only grasp at air, though. He debates whether or not this discrepancy is worth opening his eyes for, and reluctantly decides that he should find his phone. If Clint set himself an alarm, then he needs to be up for something, even if he can’t remember what he needs to be awake for at the moment.
This isn’t his bedroom. Clint blinks again, but the mirage doesn’t fade. This isn’t the ceiling in his bedroom, and that means this isn’t his bedroom. Well, okay, then. Clint’s just going to lie there for a few minutes and try to breathe, because he doesn’t know where he is, and now he’s starting to feel numb and distant from his body, and that’s never a good thing, and he needs to pull himself together and-
There’s a sudden bang that startles Clint hard enough that he jolts literally several inches up off the surface of the bed, rolls off the far side, and then hits his hip on the wood floor. His heartbeat, so distant only a moment ago, is now pounding loudly in his ears. Clint’s only consolation is that he’s wearing underwear, so at least whoever just stormed into his not-room didn’t get a look at the goods. Clint generally doesn’t reward people who startle the fuck out of him with a peek at his dick or ass. Generally.
“Would you turn that off?” someone demands, and Clint grabs the side of the bed and slowly pulls himself up just far enough to see over the edge of the mattress. There’s a very, very attractive guy standing in his doorway with his arms crossed. He’s… very hot, wow. Actually, very pretty, and definitely Clint’s type, with stormy grey eyes and dark, loose hair that almost brushes his shoulders, and a sculpted torso that is very much on full display while he glares at Clint. He’s not naked, either, which is a shame, but he is only wearing a pair of briefs, and yes, okay, Clint’s very much appreciating the view.
His brain catches up with the request and the murder eyes a few seconds later, and he winces. “Yeah, sorry,” he mutters. Clint stands up and walks over to his duffle bag, where his phone is still blaring its alarm, and he quickly digs it out before finally cutting the sound off.
“Sorry,” Clint says again, because apparently, it’s six-thirty in the morning, and ouch. “I forgot where I was,” he explains, but doesn’t say anything else. Murder eyes might be very pretty, but he’s clearly not in the best of moods right now, and probably won’t appreciate hearing about Clint’s temporary dissociation and confusion when first waking up somewhere different. It’s nothing new for Clint, anyway.
Murder eyes looks a little less murdery now, though, and nods his head before scrubbing a hand over his face. “Bucky Barnes,” he offers, before holding out his hand towards Clint.
He shakes it because Clint will take any excuse to get closer to this guy, especially now that he no longer looks quite so close to homicide. “Clint Barton,” he returns. “How do you know the happy couple?”
Because that’s what he’s doing there. What everyone who’s staying the weekend is doing there. Instead of a one-day event, Tony Stark and James Rhodes decided that a whole weekend at one of Stark’s resorts was needed in order to properly celebrate their wedding.
Bucky shrugs. “Stark designed this,” he says, and gestures at his left arm.
Clint blinks in confusion for a moment, but then he gets it. Because his tired mind assumed before that Bucky’s left arm was tattooed with a wicked sleeve, but no, the guy’s whole arm is a prosthetic. It’s mesmerizing, and Clint wants to touch it, but refrains. That would be weird.
“Cool,” he says, before yawning. Crap, now he’s awake at six-thirty in the morning, and Clint knows that he won’t be able to get back to sleep. “Think there’s any coffee in this place?” he asks, because Clint needs caffeine more than air, at this point.
Bucky’s full lips shift into a smile, and holy shit, that’s a dimple. Clint happily dies a little inside. “A place this fancy?” Bucky says. “If not, I’m ordering some in, and Stark can pay for it.”
That sounds fair to Clint. Really, anything does, as long as he gets some coffee soon. “Meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes?” Clint asks. And really, that might have been rude. Maybe Bucky wants to go back to sleep. Maybe he’s not haunted by nightmares and chronic insomnia.
Bucky only nods, though. “Sure,” he says, sounding not murdery at all anymore, and then he leaves Clint’s room.
Clint checks his phone as soon as Bucky leaves, because why the hell was his phone alarm set to go off at six-thirty in the morning? That’s when he notices that there’s a new text from Natasha.
Get up and enjoy the sun, Clint.
Clint decides that Natasha is purposely being cruel. Just because she’s already awake and no doubt either in the pool or on a run doesn’t mean that she has to wake Clint up at this unholy hour. Clint doesn’t need the sun. He needs sleep. And now coffee.
Since he knows that Natasha will accept none of his excuses, Clint rummages around in his duffle bag and finds his swim shorts, changes into them, and then stumbles his way around the place until he finds the kitchen. No lie, it’s the smell of really fucking good coffee that lets Clint find his way so quickly, and he inhales deeply once he enters the kitchen, closing his eyes to savor the scent.
“Should I leave you two alone?” Bucky asks dryly, and Clint opens his eyes to see the other man in his own swimwear, also briefs, and holding out a black coffee mug towards him. Clearly, he’s a briefs man through and through, and Clint approves.
“I’m not opposed to threesomes,” Clint reassures him, and then he takes the mug gratefully. Bucky snorts but doesn’t reply, too busy drinking his own coffee, and Clint follows suit.
Oh god, it’s just as good as it smells. No, even better, and Clint cuddles the mug close to his chest. This is worth getting up so early for. Hell, this coffee is worth every single cup of crappy, substandard sludge that he’s had to pretend was coffee over the years. This coffee is the only thing that Clint wants to drink for the rest of his life.
He tries to not drink it too fast, empties his mug in less than a minute, and looks around for more. Bucky, looking extremely amused, wordlessly gestures to a complicated-looking device that Clint’s pretty sure is a fucking Pasquini coffee machine. Because of course. Either way, it holds the elixir of life in its carafe, and so Clint pours himself another mug of the brew.
“If I’d known that Tony Stark had coffee this good, I would have offered to marry him years ago,” Clint confesses.
Bucky snickers into his coffee, and Clint grins. “Pretty sure you’d have to fight Rhodes for him now,” Bucky points out.
Clint nods. “I’ll think it over,” he says. He’s only half-kidding. He wants to stay in this kitchen and drink the coffee all day. Unfortunately, Natasha’s orders were for Clint to get some sun, and he can’t do that while staying inside the house. She’ll know if he doesn’t listen to her, too.
Sighing, Clint gestures at the sliding glass doors and the pool waiting beyond them. “Want to join me?” he asks, because he doesn’t want to stop being around Bucky just yet. Which is kind of a huge deal for Clint, actually, since he’s not a big fan of being around strangers all that often.
“What, you’re separating yourself from your one true love already?” Bucky asks, flashing him another dimpled smile. He really needs to stop doing that. Or to continue doing it forever. Clint would prefer the second option, actually.
Clint walks out into the sunlight and winces at the brightness. He sits down beside the pool, letting his feet dangle into the water. “I’ve still got the rest of this cup,” Clint says, raising his coffee mug in illustration. “I won’t be parted from my true love so easily.” He takes another careful sip.
Bucky chuckles. “I like a guy who’s stubborn as hell,” he admits, and then he’s sitting down next to Clint, and yeah, this isn’t such a bad start to his morning. A pretty damn good one, actually.
“You’re in luck, then,” Clint says, “because I’m the most stubborn person you’ll ever meet.”
Bucky looks at him appraisingly. His eyes are even more gorgeous in the sunlight. “Might have to see about that,” he says, and that sounds like a challenge to Clint. One that he’s completely onboard with. He’s suddenly really looking forward to the rest of this weekend.