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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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Through the Dead (and Beyond) by luvsanime02
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There are probably more gothic places to meet, but Clint can’t think of any off-hand.
“This is even more dramatic than meeting Fury by his own grave,” Steve mutters, apparently agreeing with Clint’s assessment.
“You liked that,” Natasha says, her phone out but silent. She’s waiting for someone. Clint knows the signs by now. Steve must too, because he doesn’t ask what they’re doing standing idly in an old cemetery.
Seriously, there are fallen leaves littering the ground, to the point that Clint can’t see the grass underneath. He really hopes there are no empty graves around for one of them to accidentally fall into, because Clint knows who would be the one to find out the hard way, and he has no desire to spend any time in a grave today.
The stones all around them, the headstone and grave markers, are very old. Weathered and stained, and obviously not meticulously cared for by a groundskeeper. Whoever is buried here, they’ve been largely forgotten by everyone alive.
Clint swallows uneasily at that thought, and shifts his weight casually. This changes his line of sight just a little bit, and Clint studies the landscape thoughtfully, making sure that he’s looking everywhere that Steve and Natasha aren’t. Just because Natasha’s expecting someone doesn’t mean that someone else unexpected won’t show up.
The fact that the other two are just as on-guard as Clint is should be making him feel more paranoid, but he’s actually relaxing more by the minute. Not enough to be careless or sloppy, of course. Careless people in the spy business do not last long. Still, if all three of them are on the lookout, then Clint doubts very much that anyone could actually sneak up on them.
Case in point, Natasha’s gaze lands on something behind Clint right as her phone vibrates. Whoever she’s been waiting for is obviously here. Clint doesn’t look behind him, trusting Natasha or Steve to cover for him if whoever is there resorts to violence right off the bat, and so he’s completely taken by surprise when someone’s arm casually slings itself across his shoulders.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Bucky whispers into his ear. Clint tries not to flinch from the unexpected contact and to melt from the sound of his boyfriend’s voice at the same time, and the result is a very ungraceful jerk of his whole body that has both Steve and Natasha quietly snickering. Jerks.
“Morning, bear claw,” Clint replies, and his voice is perfectly steady. Bucky walks forward until he’s standing beside Clint. Smirking, of course. Clint can’t even blame him.
“Never been a pastry kind of guy,” Bucky says easily, not at all bothered by the nickname. It’s true, too. Bucky seems to have an aversion to most forms of pastries - except for those cheap Toaster Strudels, for some reason. Without the icing. Because Clint’s boyfriend is just that weird sometimes.
Clint still loves him, and he’s still happy to see him. Although...
“Why couldn’t we have left the apartment together if we were both meeting up here?” Clint asks curiously. It would have saved him from practically jumping out of his skin a minute ago. Then again, maybe that’s why.
But Bucky only shrugs. “I had to make a few quick stops first,” he says, which could mean anything. Clint lets it go.
“If we can get on with the meeting?” Natasha says, like she wasn’t enjoying the show.
“I’d like to get out of the creepy cemetery as soon as possible,” Steve says in agreement, and well, he’s not wrong. So would Clint.
Natasha shares a look of suffering with Bucky. “Some people have no appreciation for aesthetics,” she says mournfully.
Bucky nods. “It’s a real shame,” he agrees. Now that Clint’s paying more attention, both Natasha and Bucky are wearing practical clothing - hiking boots, comfy pants that they can move easily in, jackets - but they’re also wearing solid black and look like they could be part of the decor, honestly.
Steve groans. “I have an art degree,” he points out, though everyone here knows that already. “We’re walking for a while, aren’t we,” he adds. It’s not a question. He must have noticed the outfits, too.
“Hiking,” Natasha announces cheerfully. Clint is so glad that he wore boots today too, and not his flip-flops. It’d been a last-minute decision. “That way.”
She’s pointing through the cemetery and to the rising hills beyond, and Clint sighs. He doesn’t bother to argue. Bucky and Natasha wouldn’t be asking (well, telling) Steve and Clint to come along if they weren’t expecting trouble of some kind, and if this wasn’t important somehow.
“Where are we headed?” Clint asks, because sometimes you have to be blunt to get answers out of Natasha.
“We’re ghost hunting,” Bucky answers blandly, his attention now razor-focused on those hills. Right. Of course they are.
This time, it’s Clint and Steve who share a look of long-suffering, and then they’re following along behind Natasha and Bucky as they start off through the fog and deeper into the cemetery.