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The locks fell in ragged clumps, pooling on the bathroom floor around his feet. He kept snipping, grabbing handfuls of hair and chopping off every last bit of his old life.
Stray bits of curls fluttered onto his shoulders, tickling his neck, and he shook out the loose strands, watching as they cascaded down to join the rest.
It was patchy. One side stuck out more than the other, and he’d gone too short in the back, unable to see what he was doing. He sighed and picked up the kitchen shears again, trying in vain to even out the mess he’d made.
“Babe! I’m home! And I swear to god, if you try to pretend like you didn’t spend everyday missing me I will not hesitate to order in from that curry place you hate!” The words rang out clear from the entry hall of their apartment, and Bucky could feel the hot acid of anxiety rising in his gut.
Clint was home.
He wasn’t supposed to be back from field work until tomorrow night. He and Nat must have gotten done early.
He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow night.
And Bucky knew he looked like a complete and utter mess right now, hair unevenly spiky on the right side, and dusted with strands of his curls that clung annoyingly to his shirt and neck.
Fuck.
Bucky could hear him set his bags down on the floor, and his footsteps were growing louder as he made his way down the hall.
“Buck! Where are you? Did you fall asleep watching that documentary about penguins again? Cause I’m totally sending Steve a picture if you did, and you can’t stop me!” Clint sounded amused and maybe a little tired. This isn’t how their reunion after being apart for a month was supposed to go.
Bucky gripped onto the ledge of the sink counter, trying to steady his stuttering breaths. His mind was racing and he couldn’t remember why he’d thought this was a good idea in the first place. He’d been doing so well lately. The nightmares had all but stopped, and on the rare instances that he did have one, Clint would wake him, holding him and rocking him for a few confusing moments, and then he’d relax into Clint’s touch, letting himself be soothed and comforted.
But now, with his impulsive decision and manic-looking haircut, Clint was going to start worrying about him.
Fuck.
He could hear Clint rounding the corner to peer into their bathroom. “Buck, you okay? You weren’t---Oh.” He paused, face screwed up in confusion, and it would have been adorable if he hadn’t looked so concerned. “Oh Buck,” he said softly, and it made embarrassment rise red hot in Bucky’s face.
“I, I couldn’t find a hair tie,” he said woodenly, as if that was a reasonable explanation for why he’d chopped off all his hair in a fit of frustration. “I wanted to go for a walk, but my hair keeps getting in my eyes when it’s windy, and I couldn’t find a hair tie…” He let the words trail off, shrugging ever so slightly, hoping Clint would say something. Anything. Part of him also wanted to be swallowed up by the earth and never have to hear Clint’s response.
Clint reached out a tentative hand, lightly touching the spiky remains of his hair, fingers carding through them as he let out a laugh.
“What?” Bucky asked, maybe a little too harshly, he realized.
“It’s just, you look like me when I first wake up and my hair is all crazy with bed head. Oh Buck, what did you do to yourself?” He was shaking his head ruefully, as if he was in on a joke Bucky didn’t understand the punchline for.
“It was dumb,” Bucky mumbled, turning away from Clint’s touch and his easy smile.
“Well yeah, but when has either of us ever had any common sense? Let’s be honest, you’re like 85% of my impulse control. Remember last month when you and Steve went to go visit Tony and Pepper, and I cut off all the sleeves off my shirts? This is your sleeves, babe.” Clint laughed again, rubbing his hand playfully through Bucky’s cropped hair once more.
Bucky smiled at the memory. Nat had teased Clint about trying to live the frat boy lifestyle he’d been robbed of in his early 20’s, and Sam had just sighed and asked if Bucky had taken all two of their collective brain cells on the trip with him. Clint had sheepishly let Nat and Steve take him to buy some new shirts, complete with sleeves. And Bucky had quietly hidden the scissors so Clint wouldn’t be tempted to ruin those too.
But then Clint and Nat had to go on a recon mission suddenly, and what was supposed to be a week had turned into a month, and he hadn’t heard from them for days until he’d finally gotten word that they were supposed to be coming back tomorrow night.
“You’re early,” was all Bucky could think to reply.
Clint gave an exaggerated sigh and started rummaging through their cabinet, “Yeah, once we figured out what Zemo was up to, it was pretty short work taking down that base. Nat didn’t even break a sweat. I swear these villains are getting lazy these days. It’s disappointing really. What’s the point in having these muscles if I can’t put them to good use? Besides the obvious sex appeal they give me.”
His head popped back into sight, as he’d apparently found what he was looking for. He brandished battery-charged hair clippers, looking proud, as Bucky rolled his eyes and tried to hold back a laugh.
He let Clint guide him to sit on the edge of their bathtub, relaxing into the comfortable sensation as Clint began evening out his choppy hair, all the while listening to him chattering about the asses he’d kicked at the Hydra base they’d been searching for.
He was glad to have Clint home.
He’d truly missed Clint’s groggy petulance in the morning before he’d had a full pot of coffee. He’d missed binging crappy reality competition shows while curled up on the couch with Chinese takeout, and he’d especially missed all the shit talking they gave each other.
He closed his eyes, listening to Clint recount a story about him trying and failing to convince Nat to go get tacos after they’d rounded up all the baddies, and he was just so damn glad Clint was back.
The buzzing of the clippers went silent, and he leaned into Clint’s touch, his hands running up and down Bucky’s head, his short hair bristling under the movement. His head felt cold and light, and something in his gut unclenched.
Free.
The word rang deep in his mind, taking root and melding into him.
He was free of the weight of his long locks. Free of fighting against the tangled curls that worked their way into rat’s nests at the back of his neck.
Free of the hair he’d worn ever since the Winter Soldier had taken control of his mind and body and soul, ever since he’d lost every last shred of himself. Free of the last physical reminder of all the pain he’d caused others, of all the hurt he’d never truly heal from. Free.
Bucky glanced up at Clint, who wore a lopsided smile and leaned down to kiss him sweetly. A month, it had been a month since he’d held this man and kissed him. A month since he’d woken up to his stinky morning breath and just felt so in awe that someone as kind and funny as Clint would ever love him. A month since he’d felt truly at home in their little apartment above the bakery Bucky loved to get coffee and pastries at on weekend mornings.
It felt like it had been a lifetime.
He darted a nervous look into the mirror above the sink, unsure of how to feel about the reflection that looked back at him.
It was shorter than he’d ever worn it. A buzzcut, he remembered it was called. Clint had managed to leave it a little longer on top, fading the sides shorter, and the very front of his hair had a funny little hint of a cowlick, but it was a lot better than before.
He leaned closer, examining the sides and reaching a tentative hand up to feel it for himself. Clint had done a great job evening it out, making it look purposeful and it felt weird, but in a nice way. He glanced back at Clint, who was leaning back against the wall behind him, watching him.
“Don’t look so surprised that I didn’t fuck it up, asshole.” He winked at Bucky and moved towards him, wrapping strong arms around Bucky.
“I’m just impressed by how much better than you I look, even with short hair. Glad to know I’m hot even without my long hair,” Bucky shot back, pressing a kiss into Clint’s arm, smirking into his warm soft skin.
“Oh shit, and here I thought the romance cover hair was what made you cocky, turns out that’s just you,” Clint said. “You know you could have just gone down to the corner and bought a pack of hair ties right? You didn’t need to have a big dramatic kitchen shears meltdown,” he ribbed.
“I know, but I think I’ve been needing this for a long time. Maybe I’ll grow it back at some point, maybe I’ll just let it grow a little, I know you got turned on when you saw those old pictures of me in my army uniform.”
Clint chuckled at that, and Bucky continued, “But I think this has been a long time coming, I just didn’t expect it to happen quite like… this. It feels good though. Feels right. Thank you for helping me fix it.”
“What else am I gonna do? Let my boyfriend walk around looking like he got his hair caught in a wood chipper? Nah, I’m too pretty for that,” Clint teased, nuzzling into Bucky’s neck. “Besides, I’m gonna miss being able to pull on your hair, but I think we can make it work. It’s a good thing I’m not just dating you for your man bun.”
“Thank God,” Bucky laughed, “I was starting to wonder.”
And he let Clint lead him to the bedroom, leaving the hair pooled on the bathroom floor. He could come back and clean it up later. For now, they had a lot of catching up to do.