Work Text:
Clint officially hated magic.
Magic sucked .
And okay, it wasn’t like Clint didn’t sort of get himself into this mess, but did Tony really not expect him to touch the “do not touch” label at all?
God damn it, Nat was gonna be so mad.
He looked around the Avengers tower that looked the same as the one he was so used to, but it had its own differences that stood out to Clint like a sore thumb. He knew from one quick sweep around that this was not his home, no matter how real it looked.
Firstly, there was the fact that there was no hole in the frame between windows because Tony had bet him that his aim wasn’t that good. Spoiler alert, it totally was and Tony could suck it for doubting his awesomeness.
Secondly, Clint very vividly remembered there being a scorch mark from where Steve and Thor had had a bit too intense sparring session and it had resulted in basically everyone getting involved because they were both too stubborn to call it quits. The scorch mark had come from Nat’s widow bites when she was over the fun and decided it was the best way to get everyone’s attention.
It was; you didn’t want to mess with her.
Third, the frames cluttered around the common room and in Clint’s own private room were different. They were filled with events he remembered going to, he just didn’t remember the events happening.
Events like Clint and Sam sitting in the corner of some event and Steve and Tony being the main focus of the photo, but you could clearly see the two in the back drinking beers and joking about.
Bruce and Nat were there as well. In one of the photos, Nat was playing bartender and Bruce was leaning forward. The two seemed to be in an intense conversation and Clint couldn’t help the wince. Sure, Nat had been interested in Bruce (Clint thinks anyway), but it hadn’t gone anywhere and it looked weird seeing pictures of them together.
There were many others as well, like ones of Clint and Kate, Clint and Lucky, Clint, Kate, Lucky, Bobbi, everyone.
Everyone except the two people who meant the most to him.
There were more differences as well, but Clint really did not want to think of them currently. He prayed that this was just some random dream.
So sure, as soon as Clint had woken up without a metal arm draped around his waist and his nose pressed into a big fluff of hair that didn’t belong to him he knew that something was very much off.
He had (wrongly) assumed that when he went out to the kitchen, everything would make sense and be back to normal so he had had a quick shower (ignoring the lack of clutter and toys stashed, the ones usually stashed around the bathtub) and then went to get changed.
When his favourite shirt no longer had a stain of strawberry jam splattered down the middle, that was when he knew something was 100% wrong. He definitely remembered how that stain had gotten there and he knew that no matter how hard he, or anyone really, had tried it wouldn’t come out.
But maybe that was because it took Clint a bit too long to notice that there was actually any stain.
Trying not to have a panic attack and trying to keep calm, he hesitantly made his way to the kitchen and through to the lounge. He didn’t exactly know what he was looking for, but he knew that he wasn’t looking to be squashed against the wall by a body he knew all too well.
“Bucky! Bucky, it’s me, Clint!”
The force pushing him against the wall pulled back a bit and Clint could breathe properly again, but when he tried to wiggle his way out, the arm behind his neck pressed him to the wall again as a warning.
“How did you get in here?”
“What? Bucky, I live here!”
“In the tower, yes. How’d you get in my apartment?”
This made Clint pause. Even on a bad day, if Bucky knew who Clint was, he didn’t get caught up about how Clint had gotten there, not anymore.
Against the warning of the arm and his own mind screaming at him that something wasn’t right, he turned around and immediately felt the panic he was trying to ignore bubbling up again as he made eye contact with the man holding him in place.
“You’re not my Bucky.”
Okay, this was fine. Everything was awesome and nothing at all was going wrong.
He took a deep breath and fiddled with the cap on the water bottle that the Nat here had given him with a mildly curious expression before she walked over to where Bruce and Tony were working.
God, Clint officially hated magic. So much. Next time Strange needed their help (without admitting it because he was a bastard like that), Clint was not helping.
Fuck alternate universes. How the hell did Tony even get something in his lab that had the power to do this ? First thing Clint was doing when he got home was putting on some safety gloves or something and then getting rid of that damn… Whatever it was.
“When can you get me home? I mean, your universe is nice and all but, see, I actually really need to get home by dinner time… So like, by five pm. Or, shit, no, I’m on bath duty tonight, I actually need to be home-”
“Glad to see that Barton talks too much no matter what universe he lives in.”
That shut Clint right up and he let out a little distressed whine before he took another breath, closing his eyes and leaning on his hands that were clamped together just a bit too tight. “I just really need to get home.”
Jumping when a hand unexpectedly clamped on his shoulder, he let out a sigh and decided his panic wasn’t doing well for anyone.
He looked up and saw Steve, looking every inch Captain America and man, when you see someone full on stuff their face with a burger that looked like it could squash Clint flat because, ‘ I grew up in the great depression, Clint ’, then the Captain America face doesn’t really work anymore.
“We’ll get you home.”
Even as Steve said the words, Clint had resigned himself to being stuck indefinitely.
No one had much experiences with alternate universes, let alone sending people to and from them, so he really couldn’t be bothered getting his hopes up for something that probably wouldn’t end up working anyway.
“What I’m curious about is why you appeared in Bucky’s apartment.”
“I live there,” Clint winced as he got more than one raised eyebrow from across the room, “well like, okay so in my universe there are… Some… Differences.”
“Like?”
Shrugging, he looked towards Nat and he couldn’t help but rush through his words, hoping he wouldn’t have to say them again. He really wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, but maybe it was because the hand that was still on his shoulder wasn’t the comforting weight that he knew so familiarly at home.
“What?”
He let out a little groan, letting his head fall back before he picked himself up again, letting his hands drop loosely. Panic and anxiety be damned, he was proud of what his life was sculpting to be like, and if he was punching above his weight, who cares.
“So basically my Bucky and I are kind of engaged and we have a kid.”
There was a pause around the room and Clint had no idea if it was worse to say more about the situation or to leave it there.
Sure. Him and Bucky probably didn’t look like they’d make anything special, but they’d been together for around 6 years, somehow, and when on a mission there had been a baby boy found in one of the back rooms of some Hydra cell, well, Clint had taken one look at the determination on Bucky’s face and known that their little family was about to grow bigger.
And okay, so there had been a lot of opinions about the two of them raising the kid (including from the two of them themselves), but he was 5 years old now and there were hardly any scratches and bruises on him, apart from ones he had gotten from that trip to the park where he had been too excited to wait, so they were doing pretty well.
“A kid?”
Clint merely nodded tiredly, dragging a hand down his face.
“His name’s Noah. He’s five and he’s the best.”
After that there wasn’t really much anyone could do.
Clint hadn’t really expected much to come from the brilliant conclusion, except maybe the softening look in Tony’s eyes and the way he seemed more frenzied to work, but he knew that the outcome wouldn’t have much of a difference anyway.
He collapsed onto the couch in the other Clint’s apartment and was bewildered at how used it looked. His own apartment back home hadn’t been occupied in years since Bucky nor Clint didn’t really like sleeping alone, so right from the get go they had basically become bunk buddies.
Looking around the apartment now, though, he wondered if this is how his life could have been. Apparently the Clint and Bucky here were just friends, and though it wasn’t the awesome, kick ass romance that Clint had back home, he was glad that they still got together, played video games, ate shit food and took Lucky for walks together.
It was nice to know that in any universe they were still friends.
He closed his eyes and let the air seep out of him, trying some of the breathing tips one of the therapists had told him to have a go at. The door opened not long after and he wasn’t surprised that when he opened his eyes again, Bucky was standing in front of him, looking slightly like a child that had been told off.
“Sorry for uh, how I reacted back there.”
Clint merely shrugged. “I was an intruder, it’s okay.”
Bucky nodded in reply but hung around for a moment like he had something more to say, so Clint just kept his mouth shut and waited. “So you and uhm, the other Bucky has a kid?”
Feeling a smile spread across his face he nodded, “Yeah. It was Bucky’s idea to adopt him and, well… I can’t say no to him. I said it in my head a lot, but that’s not the point.”
“And everything’s okay? Nothing’s… happened?”
Smiling, Clint pointed at him. “You sounded exactly like my Bucky did. You know how many nights we stayed up after taking him in? Too many to count. I mean, we both were still having bad days and nights and just… Bad times. I came from a shit childhood and well, you know what you went through, I’m sure most of what happened matches.
“Anyway, in the end, we just kind of decided that fuck it. We can totally do this, and even with all the superhero shit, we give him a more loving environment than most get. Certainly more than I did anyway.”
Clint sucked in a breath, remembering his life back at home before he smiled, looking over to the Bucky that had ended up sitting beside him, staring at him like he couldn’t imagine the world Clint was talking about, “You know what the best part is though? When the bad days do happen, we have a little body knowing that something’s not right, but still wanting to cuddle the hell out of you… It’s nice… Reminds you you aren’t alone.”
Bucky didn’t respond and Clint was more than happy to bask in the silence, something that used to bother him very early in their relationship, but now he was so used to the loud and noise that it was nice when he did get a moment of silence.
When Bucky slipped away a few moments later without even a goodbye, well, that didn’t surprise Clint either.
Suddenly feeling a wave of tiredness, he hoped the other Clint wouldn’t mind someone using his bed temporarily, and if he did- tough.
Collapsing on the bed with a tired yawn, the last thing he saw was a framed picture of Lucky, Clint and Kate all together. Huh. It was kinda cute, actually.
His last thought as he fell asleep was that maybe he should get them to recreate the photo - with Bucky and Noah included.
When Clint opened his eyes he let out a small groan, stretching out on the bed before collapsing into a slumped position again, idly scratching his stomach. He stayed like that for a couple of minutes before jolting up and looking around, and man he hoped to god this was actually his room and not some other universe.
That would be the icing on top of the cake.
He heaved himself off of the bed and looked at the time on his phone and, letting out a sleepy hum when he saw it was nearing 5pm, he furrowed his brows before shrugging his shoulders, taking a once over view of himself and seeing that the stain was very much alive on his top.
Huh, must have just been some really random dream.
He hoped so anyway.
A squeal had him bolting from the room and out to the kitchen where it was such a stark contrast from what he had witnessed previously.
Bucky was wearing a chef apron and hat that Clint had gotten him as a joke when Bucky had called himself a stay at home wife, then paused and amended that he’d have to learn to cook better. Clint had about made a mess of himself laughing at the bewildered expression on Bucky’s face when he had opened the present on his birthday to find that.
Needless to say, Clint had a bruise on his arm for over a week after that, but it certainly came in handy these years later when it was time to cook dinner. Or anything where they had to make something, really.
Beside Bucky was their five year old Noah, dressed up just like Bucky and with spots of flour covering his cheeks. Clint let out a huff of laughter and walked into the room, grabbing a paper towel on the way to brush the substance off of the boys cheeks even though he knew they’d be covered within five minutes again.
“What have you two trouble makers been up to?”
Bucky merely raised an eyebrow before he started spreading what seemed to be tomato paste onto some dough, and Clint couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Ah, yes. Bucky was the best.
“ Us the trouble makers? Who was the one that was ‘ just going to have a five minute nap, Buck, you won’t even notice ’.”
Noah scrunched up his nose and looked up at Clint from where he was playing around with the cheese, “That was waaay longer than five minutes.”
Clint couldn’t help but laugh at the indignation that coloured the boys tone. He stole a piece of cheese before shrugging, grinning at the boy. “Well, your Daddy Bucky didn’t wake me up so I could help with dinner like I was meant to.”
“Daddy said it was a surprise! Are you surprised?”
The grin on his face grew bigger and he dropped a kiss on the boys head before he looked at Bucky with an expression that he knew was nothing but sap. Bucky’s own expression softened as Clint leaned in for a quick peck.
“Very surprised. And very happy.”
“Yeah? What’s got you in such a good mood all of a sudden?”
I’m just glad you and Noah are here with me, I don’t know what I’d do without you both, it seems so lonely.
“Just a really good dream.”