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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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Splotches Are Not Always Art by luvsanime02
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“Hey,” Clint called from the front door.
Bucky, reading a newspaper, didn’t look up, but at least half of his attention shifted focus. “Hey,” he replied, trying to get back to what he was reading. Something about some moron trying to fight a squid. What the hell? Who would want to fight a squid at the aquarium?
“So, quick question,” Clint said, and now his voice was coming from the bathroom, “do you think that squid ink is poisonous?”
Bucky paused, read through the article again about someone wrestling a squid, and sighed. He folded up the paper, stood up, and then walked to the bathroom. Sure enough, when he got there, it was to see Clint stripping off all of this clothing.
Which, while pleasing to watch, also drew attention to the growing puddle of black ink on their bathroom floor, and the drips leading into the bathroom and down the hallway and, Bucky was sure, out their front door and into the stairwell.
“Clint,” Bucky asked, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorway, “why were you fighting with a squid?”
Bucky made sure that his feet weren’t anywhere near the ink. He’d get a trash bag in a minute to put Clint’s ruined clothes in, and some bleach to clean the floor. Right now, though, Bucky had a few pressing questions that he wanted answered.
Clint didn’t pause while removing his clothes and turning on the shower. He shrugged, and then grimaced. No doubt the slowly-drying ink felt weird on his skin. “I saw it escaping its cage and was going to put it back, but then some kids started chasing it, and then it got scared, and did you know that squids can squirt ink from several feet away? Like, it just shoots out of them? And they can do it as much as they want, I think.”
That sounded admittedly cool and kind of creepy, and also like the kind of situation that Clint could never not get involved in. Bucky can’t even blame him.
“You do realize,” Bucky said, not moving just yet, “that the ink’s probably not going to come off your skin anytime soon?”
Clint paused with the soap in one hand and looked over at Bucky, likely to judge how serious he was. Unfortunately for Clint, Bucky was very serious. “At least tell me it’s not poisonous,” Clint said, already resigned. He had ink splotches on his face and neck, and his hands were covered. There was no way that Natasha wasn’t going to find this hilarious.
“It’s not,” Bucky reassured. “It’s used in dyes for cloth. Your clothes are probably ruined.”
That didn’t end up being too reassuring, he’s sure, but better to tell Clint the bad news right away. Clint’s favorite shirt was bunched up on the bathroom floor like a sullied flag of a lost war. Clint sent his clothes a long, mournful look, but didn’t protest.
Bucky kind of wanted to join Clint in the shower, but he could see some of the ink still running as it got wet, and there was no way that Bucky wanted squid ink on himself. He could still appreciate the view before he left the bathroom and got some gloves on before he went anywhere near Clint’s clothes.
“Could have been worse,” Clint said after a few minutes of scrubbing. “One of the kids almost fell into a shark tank.”
“Sharks are fine,” Bucky said, “as long as they’ve been fed.” He didn’t like the bad reputation sharks had, with them featuring in so many horror movies.
“Try telling that to a little kid,” Clint retorted, and he had a point. It definitely could have been worse.
Still, every cloud has a silver lining. “Look at it this way,” Bucky said, finally standing up straight again and moving away from the doorway, “this was covered in the paper, so there’s definitely already a meme or two about the whole thing.”
Clint raised one black-coated middle finger in reply, and Bucky walked away chuckling. The things Clint got involved in were so amusing sometimes. He sent a quick text to Natasha while he was grabbing the gloves and trash bags, telling her to check out the paper. She’d know why as soon as she saw the article.
Bucky got down on his hands and knees and started carefully picking up the clothes, and after this, he’d have to clean up all of the spots of ink throughout their apartment. He kind of wanted to be annoyed at the hassle, but Bucky was too amused at the whole situation to care much.
Also, their apartment had tile, not carpet, which Bucky usually hated but was now very thankful for. Silver linings, indeed.