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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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Trash to Treasure by luvsanime02
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“You know,” a voice says from beside Clint in the dumpster, “you’re really kind of impressive.”
Clint’s not too sure how to take that. The words could be sarcastic, but the tone is as sincere as Bucky Barnes ever seems to sound. “Thanks,” he says after a moment of debate, because his response would be the same whether or not Bucky meant it.
“Really, most people wouldn’t try to change someone else’s momentum while falling through the air like that,” Bucky continues. He sounds thoughtful now, more than anything else. He’s also making no move to get up out of the dumpster. Neither is Clint. After the last thirty seconds, he needs a break. From everything.
“I threw us in the dumpster,” Clint points out, trying and failing to not sound just a little defensive now. It’s true. Bucky’s trajectory when he was falling would have had him land about three feet away, hitting the ground after a ten-story drop. He probably wouldn’t have been too hurt, being Bucky Barnes and all, but try telling Clint’s instincts that. And since Clint had been falling, too, he hadn’t really given much thought to grabbing hold of Bucky’s arm and tugging him off-course just enough that they both landed in the dumpster instead.
Never mind that Clint himself had been aimed at the fire escape before he had reached out to Bucky, and would have been able to stop his own fall about two stories down and been just fine if he hadn’t. He’s fine now. They both are.
“Pretty amazing aim,” Bucky says. He turns his head enough that Clint can see his expression, and he’s…
He’s clearly not being sarcastic. Which means that he very much meant the praise. Which is even more difficult for Clint to accept than the sarcasm, for reasons that he doesn’t want to think about while lying in a dumpster. Or ever, really.
“Instinct, I guess,” Clint says eventually, because it was. Mostly. Okay, it was also just because Bucky is Bucky, and Clint really doesn’t want him hurt or anything. But still, Clint would have done the same for anyone else on the team, too.
“It’s a good instinct to have,” Bucky says softly, quirking a smile at Clint. That’s when Clint realizes that Bucky is uncomfortable too, but that he’s trying to say thanks, and hey, Clint can appreciate that. Both being uncomfortable and Bucky appreciating Clint’s help.
“One of my better ones,” Clint replies easily, and finally sits up. He wrinkles his nose when some of the trash sticks to his suit. “Ready to get back out there?”
He’s being serious. While he wants to get out of the trash, he’ll stay in a dumpster with Bucky for a little while longer if the other guy needs some more time. Which is when Clint realizes that he’s already fucked as far as Bucky Barnes is concerned. Shit.
“Well, I’m definitely not staying in a dumpster,” Bucky says, sitting up also. Pity. Not about wanting to get out of the dumpster, because the smell is getting worse the longer that they lie there, but because the trash sticking to Bucky’s hair is a damn tragedy. Hair that gorgeous should not be covered in trash.
“You’ve got something in your hair,” Clint volunteers, both to break the moment and because if he has to stare at that unidentifiable chunk of something in Bucky’s hair for much longer, he’s going to do something stupid like reach over and pick it out himself.
Bucky grimaces and runs his fingers through his hair, but doesn’t look that upset about it. Guy’s definitely had worse in his hair over the years, and so has Clint. Still. Nothing wrong with striving for any improvements in your life that don’t leave you lying inside of an actual dumpster in New York City.
“Let’s go,” Bucky says, sighing, and slings himself up and over the edge of the dumpster. He holds out a hand to help brace Clint as he crawls out, and then they’re both finally emerging back into the semi-clean - not really, but better than the dumpster - air of the city.
“I’ve had worst first dates,” Clint says suddenly, which - no, Clint, why do you do this to yourself? This isn’t a date and the day’s clearly already a disaster and they’re both still covered in trash and-
“I haven’t,” Bucky replies, and he hasn’t let go of Clint’s wrist just yet. “I’d prefer to take a raincheck on this one until I’ve had about three showers. Sound good?”
Oh. Okay, then. “Sounds great,” Clint says honestly, and he means both the scheduled future date and the idea of taking about three or more showers, because ew. Yeah. Something’s squishing inside of Clint’s boot, and he’s not looking down to see what it is until he’s somewhere with a shower and about five gallons worth of bleach. Possibly kerosene, too.
Bucky smiles, and he looks beautiful even covered in trash, and Clint is so very, very fucked, but hopefully in a really good way later. For now, Bucky squeezes his wrist once before finally letting go, and they both focus on climbing back up to the fight going on above them, not really caring anymore about the trash or the smell or the teasing that they’re definitely going to get from everyone else.
Turns out, sometimes Clint’s instincts get him out of messes too, instead of just into them.