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“Hey.”
The man standing in the doorway was familiar, but that didn’t mean he knew who the guy was. His mind was leaking facts and memories like a sieve, a jumbled mess of images and feelings.
“You’re hungry. I’ve got burgers and fries.”
A big brown bag, grease stains on the sides, was in one of his hands, his knobby calloused fingers closed around the folded top. He was grinning, a bit lopsided, his blue-green eyes filled with nothing but mischief. No fear, no tension, just a guy with some food.
“Let’s get out of here. There’s a great view up top.”
He didn’t know if he was supposed to leave but no one had expressly told him to stay, so he stood up and followed the smell down the hall and into an elevator.
“Got chocolate shakes too. Everybody loves a good thick milkshake.”
The guy kept talking about nothing at all as they rode. His name was Clint and he knew Steve somehow and he lived here too and he liked his burger medium rare with onions and mushrooms. Bucky listened, occasionally nodding when he remembered to, followed Clint up a set of stairs and out an emergency door to a small area on the roof with chairs and a table and a 360 degree view of New York. It knocked the breath out of him, this updated city that Bucky knew so well and yet didn’t know at all.
“On a good day you can see right over New Jersey,” Clint said with a laugh, taking a seat and unloading the contents of the bag, weighing everything down with stones that lined the edge of the patio so the wind didn’t whip them away. “Let’s eat while it’s still warm.”
He picked up the burger and unwrapped it, tucking the paper down to use as a holder; he had to make himself take the first bite … eating was about fueling up his body, nothing else … and he froze as he swallowed, staring at the bit of juice oozing from the slightly pink center, the crisp onion rings and lettuce crackling in his mouth as he went in for a second try of the delicious sandwich, it was so good.
“See that?” Clint asked after they’d eaten in silence for a few minutes, Bucky moving on to the salty potatoes and a mouthful of the smooth cold shake. “The Baxter Building. The helicopter landing on top. Bet you ten bucks that’s Sue coming home early because Reed got caught up in the lab and missed their anniversary. Again.”
Bucky focused in on the blue metal, white number four painted on the side. He knew who the Richards were, the encyclopedic database of potential threats in his head filling in the blanks quickly. “She’s not blonde,” he said of the woman climbing out. “Brunette, early twenties, 5’ 7”, four inches heels, size zero dress.”
“You can tell that from here?” Clint looked again. “Damn. You’re right! That’s Johnny’s latest model. She’s getting serious, and he’s already eyeing the next one in line. Okay, okay. How about the terrace, three blocks over, hot tub on the end, two people in it.”
“Neil Patrick Harris and his husband David. Kids are inside with … I’d guess that’s the nanny.” He liked this; no need to remember or do more than just sit and use his skills for nothing more than a game. “How about the Brooklyn Bridge, three green cars and a delivery van, stopped behind a garbage truck. What’s on the side of the van?”
“Pete’s Pieces, closet organizers and storage solutions.” Clint laughed, kicking his feet up on the edge of the roof. “34th street, 17th floor, south facing, fourth window from the left.”
“Oh. Wow. Okay. People not use drapes anymore? That’s …” Bucky turned his head and tried to make sense of the tangle of bodies. “Two guys and … one girl? Wait? Two women? Damn.”
“Four. Three guys and one girl. She just walked over to the fridge to get some more champagne. Kinky.”
They kept at it until long after the food was finished, only going back inside when Steve showed up to take Bucky to his next therapy session. Steve had that ‘I’m worried about you’ look on his face as Clint told Bucky they’d do it again sometime.
“Jesus, I have sweat pooling in my knee pads,” Clint bitched from his position on top of the mesa. “Did we have to come to the middle of the desert for this? We have a nice temperature cooled practice room in the tower.”
“We need to test in real life conditions,” Steve replied in his long-suffering, why do I have to put up with this shit voice. “The Hulk needs to get comfortable with Bucky being part of the team.”
“Hulk like Ice Man,” the Hulk broke in. “And Hulk want ice cream when we’re done. Chocolate with syrup and sprinkles.”
“I second that,” Clint replied. “Gelato. Salted Caramel. Yeah. That’ll do it.”
“Stop complaining,” Bucky said, keeping his eye on the action. “This isn’t hot. I was in Marrakesh one time, and it was 45 Celsius. Like swimming through the streets it was so damn humid.”
The slivery flash of the drone caught Clint’s attention; he lined up the shot based upon where it would be and let his arrow fly, catching it squarely in the center of the target. “Flaming Mountains in China, dude. Chased some drug runners down there once. I’d say it was as hot as an oven, but it was worse.”
“Walked the edge of the Rub’ al Khali’. Sand gummed up my arm, and I had to drink my own urine for water.” Bucky jumped seconds before the Hulk landed where he’d been, scrambling out of the way of the big green guy. Memories were slowly solidifying, coming back in dribs and drabs. Anything to do with the senses – smell, taste, and touch – was easier.
“Excuse me, but I thought we were working here?” Steve called. “Head in the game, guys.”
“Hey, we’re close to Vegas? How about we catch O?” Clint called. “I know a couple of the acrobats in the show.”
Bucky didn’t know what that was, but Vegas did sound like fun. “They still got that rollercoaster on the roof of that hotel? Steve, wanna try it?”
“Xacuti,” Bucky said around a mouthful of popcorn.
“You’re making that up,” Tony accused him. “What the hell is it?”
“Curry with coconut and poppy seeds,” Natasha answered. “Very spicy.”
“I thought we were watching a movie.” Bruce shifted in his chair. “You’re making me hungry.”
“Almost done. Just two more letters,” Clint replied. “Y … y … ah! Yakitori. Japanese street food, skewers of meat grilled over coals.. That leaves you with Z.”
“I could go for some food,” Tony said. “Not really impressed by this flick. Too many lens flares.”
“Zwetschgendatschi.” Bucky grinned at Clint’s grimace. “Hey, what can I say, I’ve got a sweet tooth.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Steve agreed. “There was this patisserie; remember those tarts they used to make? Whatever fruit they could find, didn’t matter, they were amazing.”
“Okay, fine. Jarvis, order a mixture of dumplings from Prosperity,” Tony called. “A selection of soup and buns to go with it.”
“Oh, and Bien Cuit, Jarvis, get a selection,” Pepper added. “Best bakery in Brooklyn. We can see how their tarts compare.”
“Let’s see.” Clint was firing quickly, picking off the stragglers out of the wave of giant rats that swarmed the street below. The Hulk was right in the middle of the pack, stomping and pounding with relish as Thor swung his hammer in long sweeping arcs. Tony and Steve were chasing down the self-styled Piped Piper who was controlling the dog-sized rats. “Emma Frost, Jean Grey, and Storm.”
“Got another batch boiling up down near the wharf district,” Hill said. “The NYPD is evacuating the area, but it will be overrun soon. Barnes, can you …”
“I’ve got eyes on the sewer grate.” Bucky slid across a roof and jumped to the next one. Dropping into position, he sighted down the barrel of his rifle and began shooting. “Frost, Storm, Grey.”
“Really? Jean’s so nice!” Clint objected. “Hey, Hulk, Thor, I’m going to use an incendiary arrow to try and cut them off. Watch out for the backwash.”
“Always take out the ‘she’s super powerful and might go rogue at any time’ people first. Plus, I like blondes better than red-heads. ” Bucky’s shots weren’t doing much; for every one that fell, three more crawled over it. “I could use one of those arrows to collapse this tunnel.”
“I can do that,” Thor replied. In seconds, he appeared, floating high enough to stay out of the range of the teeth and claws; with one bolt of lightning he clogged up the exit they were using, blocking them underground. “They will find another way. But they are stymied here for the moment.”
Bucky picked off the ones in the street, catching one right before it climbed into a taxi window with a family of four. “How about Dean Winchester, Erik Northman, Jaime Lannister.”
“Seriously, Barnes?” Clint laughed. “That’s not fair. Hey, Steve, any chance of you hurrying up? These things stink when they’re dead.”
“Guy’s got himself surrounded by kids,” Steve said, his anger evident in his voice. “I’m going to enjoy taking him down.”
“Quit stalling, Barton.” Four more down, but the damn things were scattering down alleyways.
“Fine, fine. Lannister, Winchester, and Northman. Cute as Skarsgaard is, Erik is a vampire, after all,” Clint said. “Going to try a sonic arrow. Maybe that will disrupt the music or however they’re being controlled.”
Bucky felt the sound deep in his inner ear, his heightened senses picking up the vibrations. The rats squealed, falling to the ground and thrashing about. “Oh, they don’t like that. Stark, you got broadcast capabilities, right?”
“Damn straight, Skippy. On it.” The blast of Tony’s repulsors whooshed by Bucky’s position, the high pitched sound growing as Iron Man flew by.
“Last one. Modok, Kingpin, Victor Von Doom.” Clint didn’t even sound winded as they both finished off as many of the animals as they could.
“Fuck you, Hawkass. Modok’s just a big head. How would that even work?” Bucky shot back.
“I don’t know, maybe you’re a size diva?” Clint laughed.
“What are you guys even talking about?” Tony asked.
“Alright … Von Doom, Modok, Kingpin.” Bucky holstered his gun as the last rat fell.
“Fuck, marry or kill,” Clint answered. “You’d marry Modok? Really?”
“Man’s a genius; he can keep me in the style I’ve become accustomed to.” Bucky made up the answer on the spot. “And Von Doom, metal, electricity … bet the man is really a sub begging to be …”
“Gentlemen, please remember that you are being broadcast to the command room,” Hill broke in. “Do you really want Fury to know who you secretly want to date?”
“I don’t know, I’m on Legolas’s side. I’d marry Dean Winchester,” Tony said. “Hire a pie chef for the tower. Actually, a pastry chef wouldn’t be a bad idea. Jarvis, make a note to have Pep interview some.”
“At what point did I lose control of this team?” Steve wondered.
“I blame Barton,” Bucky said.
“I blame Barnes,” Clint said at the exact same time.
“You still with me, Barton?” Bucky bounced his shoulder, waking Clint up from the stupor he’d fallen into. “Most difficult shot you ever made. It’s your turn.”
Clint groaned as he put weight on his leg; the makeshift bandage around his calf was dark with blood but Clint kept going. Easy, they said, just watch a little outpost and wait for the mark to show up. A milk run for Bucky’s first official SHIELD mission without a handler. But when Bucky had heard the plane land and they’d dragged a half-conscious Clint down the ramp, the whole thing had gone to hell. He’d burned the place down to the ground without hesitation; now he was hauling Clint’s ass up a mountainside to base camp to wait for extraction. Which had better come fast based upon the shortness of Clint’s breathing and the beads of sweat on his forehead.
“Farsala, Greece. Through a vent, 2000 yards. In a rain storm.” Clint paused between phrases, gathering up the words to get through the pain.
“Here.” Bucky leaned Clint up against a tree next to his stowed gear. “Stay awake until I can clean your wound.”
He was half afraid to leave Clint alone, but he needed to erase as much of their trail as possible, just in case. He’d stopped twice already, obliterating foot prints and laying false starts; he hurried now, wiping across the ground with a piece of brush all the way to the campsite. When he got back, Clint was slumped over, chest rising and falling far too rapidly, a glazed look in his eyes.
“Hey. You start the next round,” Bucky said. Taking supplies out of his pack, he cut the filthy cloth off of Clint’s leg and saw the damage underneath before he started cleaning the wound.
“Worst … kill …” Clint mumbled. He bit off a groan, teeth pressing so hard into his lower lip that a drop of blood ran down.
Picking out debris and bits of glass from the gash, Bucky thought about lying, but he didn’t. Wasn’t really a reason to; Clint knew just what Bucky had been. “Willam Von Werst. Some German politico at a peace convention. His six-year-old son walked in as I slit his throat.”
He didn’t have to say what happened next. The Winter Soldier never left any witnesses. The boy’s eyes haunted him every damn night now that he was Bucky again. Slathering on the anti-bacterial gel, he wrapped fresh gauze around Clint’s leg.
“Phil Coulson.” Clint’s lids shut twice before he could look at Bucky.
“You didn’t know Coulson would be in the room with Loki,” Bucky said. He’d heard the story from both from Steve and Natasha, and how Clint blamed himself for his friend’s death.
“You didn’t know the kid would come in either. Chance we take.” Clint sat up then groaned in pain. There was no arguing with Clint that the situations were different because they weren’t. Whoever they’d been then, whoever was in charge, their finger was on the trigger.
Bucky took out a bottle of tepid water and passed over two Tylenol with codeine, the best he could do at the moment. “Here. Take these and drink. You’re dehydrated.”
It was a sign of how bad Clint felt that he just tossed the pills back and drank almost the whole bottle in one long swallow. “ETA?” he asked, voice scratchy and rough.
“Six hours, but Nat’s flying so more like four. Unless Stark gets the bug up his bonnet to stick his nose in.” Bucky’s message had been terse and to the point; he hoped the whole cavalry was on the way.
“Scoot,” he ordered, settling in behind Clint and easing Clint’s back against his chest. Clint shifted closer and let the metal arm slide around him and hold him tight. Bucky could feel the heat Clint’s body was giving off, the slight tremor that ran through the man. The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the branches of the trees, a light breeze ruffling the leaves. A silence settled, broken only by an occasional cough or heavy sigh from Clint.
“Howard and Maria Stark. A bullet to the back left tire on a winding road.” Bucky had never said it out loud, not since the moment he realized he was the one who’d done the deed.
“Fuck.” The word was one long exhale from Clint. He dropped his head onto Bucky’s shoulder and slipped a hand onto Bucky’s thigh, squeezing lightly. No judgment, no censure, just acceptance and understanding.
The day lengthened, shadows growing longer; Bucky was sure Clint was dozing but then he spoke, his whisper almost lost in the rustle of the wind.
“Barney Barton.” Clint took a deep breath, the confession falling into the air between them. “An arrow in the heart.”
There were no words to say. Bucky just covered Clint’s hand with his and nestled his nose in Clint’s hair as they waited for the sound of the rotors.
“It’s not fine, Buck.” Steve drew himself up to his full height … damn, little Stevie went and got tall … and used his Captain America voice. “You’re part of this team and the WSC has no say in it.”
“Look, Steve, I can fight my own battles,” he argued back. Steve had the worst timing for these little talks; team bonding time was quickly turning awkward. All Bucky wanted was to get the white cheddar topping for his popcorn and watch a mindless movie. Clint was already installed on the couch, his leg propped up on the coffee table, ready to share his Milk Duds. “Don’t you have anything better to do that micromanage my life?”
“I just worry about you, okay?” Steve ducked his head and shrugged, a defense mechanism when he knew he was being unreasonable. “Maybe if you’d find a nice girl, go out on a date, do more than just spar and shoot and kill things.”
“Pot, kettle, Cap!” Tony called from his favorite chair. “Red’s been trying to set you up for months, and you’ve been too busy running us through simulations and fighting every minor villain you can find.”
“He’s got you there, Steve,” Bruce agreed.
“I’m quite capable of meeting women,” Steve protested. “I don’t need help, thank you.”
“Now you sound like your old self,” Bucky said with a laugh. “Remember how much you hated it when I tried to take care of you?”
“Fine,” Steve gave up and smiled at his old friend. “Message received. But I do know this girl in accounting …”
“I’m quite capable of asking someone out on a date,” Bucky shot back. “You, on the other hand … unless you want to call Sharon right now?”
“I’ve got box seats at the Met. Starts at 8. There’s time,” Tony offered.
“Oh, The Merry Widow! It’s a delightful production. Sharon will enjoy it,” Pepper added as she kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on the ottoman.
“I can’t call … this late …” Steve still hesitated; Bucky swiped the phone from Steve’s pocket and found Sharon’s number, hitting the call button.
“Here, ask her.” He handed it back to Steve who sputtered until he heard Sharon’s voice.
“Hey, um, hi, um, Sharon, um, yeah, it’s me, Steve. Steve Rogers.” A bead of sweat rolled down Steve’s cheek. “Right, yeah, last week. The brownies were great, by the way.”
“We’re going to lose him,” Clint said. “Crash and burn! Crash and burn!”
“For God’s sake, just ask,” Tony called.
“Sharon, do you want to go out tonight,” Bucky coached.
“What? Yes, I’m in the Tower. Yeah, they’re here. Just, um, well, Tony has these tickets to … the Met?” Steve twisted his fingers in his belt loops, his face flushed. “You want, I mean, maybe we could …”
He stopped, listened, glanced over at them all. “Sure, yes … maybe …” he paused.
“An hour,” Pepper supplied. “I’ll make you a reservation at Joe Allen’s after. Burgers and fries, nice American food.”
“An hour? Right. Meet you there.” Steve hung up and stared at the little black rectangle. “I’ve got a date.”
“Well, in honor of Steve’s new status of dating, I think we should do rom coms tonight,” Clint said.
“Rom coms? Really?” Tony complained. “Next you’ll want to break out some wine.”
“The Proposal,” Pepper said. “I can always watch Ryan Reynolds’ abs. And I’d love a big glass of Pinot Noir.”
“While You Were Sleeping,” Bruce tossed out; he winked at Pepper. “I can always watch Sandra Bullock and I’ll take a glass too.”
“It Happened One Night.” Bucky added his pick to the mix. “Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. But I’m going with beer.”
“Oh, I’ve never seen that one,” Pepper said. “It’s a classic. Let’s start with it.”
“The African Queen,” Natasha said then shrugged. “What? It’s a classic too. I’ll get the wine.”
“Off you go, buddy.” Bucky slapped Steve on the back, pushing him out the door towards the elevator, then sat down beside Clint.
“Alright everybody,” Clint said. “Tonight’s game is the cheesiest pick up line you’ve used or had used on you. Winner gets to pick the theme for next movie night.”
“There are 206 bones in the human body. Want another one?” Bucky tossed out. Everyone except Clint groaned. Clint only grinned at him.
“Want me on my knees on the roof or will the closet work?” Clint said with a wink. “And, for the record, that one worked.”
*First bj? *
Bucky glanced at the screen of his phone; he had it perched on his leg under the table. Clint had no such qualms; his phone was in his hand as he typed, right out in the open. .
*Barbara Malone. I was 16. Behind the bleachers at school.* He tried to hide his reply. *You?*
Maria Hill was going on about team assessments. What the hell was an assessment? They did well or they blew it. Were people saved? That’s what mattered. Why did they have to talk for hours afterwards?
*Andre Villeous in his RV behind the big top. I was 15. He was GOOD.* A grin turned up the corners of Clint’s mouth but he didn’t look Bucky’s way. *First fuck?*
*Guy or gal?*
Clint’s grin widened. *Both. *
“… as part of the feedback from the last mission. Do you agree, Barnes?” Maria turned to look at him. Thank God he had enhanced hearing and memory; it took only seconds to play back what she’d said.
“No. Eyes in the sky are invaluable, and Tony, Thor and the others who fly can’t fight and call out plays. Clint and I are stuck in one place; we can see what we see, but we’re busy too. Doing away with the drone remote viewers will save money, but cost lives. However, linking them into JARVIS who’s already connected through the comms would take the human component out of the equation; no more people in distinctive black vans as targets,” Bucky said. Tony nodded in agreement; Maria’s face grew stony. Clint bit his lip and tried to look like he wasn’t about to laugh out loud.
“Agreed,” Clint added. “Buck and I are more than two sets of eyes. You need to use us effectively.”
“Actually, I have some next gen drones …” Tony began to talk science, and Bucky immediately tuned him out.
*Amanda Winston. In the backseat of her brother’s Plymouth. 6/10. Way too fast and bruised elbows.* He hit send and started the next text. *Robert Sanchez. Camp Lehigh, basic training showers. 8/10. Still fast.*
Clint’s eyebrows rose then he typed furiously. Bucky’s phone vibrated twice in secession.
*Darla Wecslow 17. Hawkeye’s biggest fan. Didn’t even get the costume completely off. . 4/10.* Clint texted. *Michale Kureyka. Acrobat. Very good top. 9/10. *
Well, that was distracting, which, of course, was Clint’s whole purpose. One of these days, Bucky decided, he was going to call Clint out on the whole passive aggressive flirting thing. Clint had a nose for the worst time to be foul mouthed.
“Clint? Am I boring you?” Hill asked.
“If I say yes, can I get out of this meeting?” Clint replied. “Because I can think of a hundred things I’d rather be doing than talking about how to better the infrastructure of our broadcast simulcast.”
Bucky took the chance to grab the initiative in their little game. * Most at once?*
As Hill droned on about remembering that the feed was livestreamed, Clint typed.
*Does it count if I just watched? Then fourteen. On assignment. Big orgy at a drug lord’s mansion. Got pretty damn hard to sit and hold position.” He paused, winked at Natasha’s arched eyebrow, and continued. *Part of? Three counting me. 4/10. Too much of a third wheel to enjoy it. Doesn’t work when the other two have unrequited feelings of LUV. *
Bucky wondered just who had been so into each other that they ignored a naked and willing Clint. Instead of asking, he replied back. *Was at Masion de la Douleur once, in the audience. Trailing a target. Lost count at twenty on stage. 0/0. S&M doesn’t do it for me. Participating, three. Kiev. Twins. 7/10. Kinda strange when they finished each other’s orgasms.*
Two seats over, Tony was looking at his tablet, not paying attention either. Actually, the only people interested in the meeting were Steve and Maria.
*Last time you got off* came Clint’s next text.
Oh, so Clint wanted to do this now? *This morning in the shower. Thank God for endless hot water in the Tower. Three takes time*
*Ah rainfall and seventeen agitating shower heads* Clint’s reply was quick. *Three? Bragging there, Barnes?*
Thor asked a question about when they were going to eat, and Bruce looked like he was nodding off. Tony snickered under his breath, and Maria glared at him.
*Not bragging if it’s true. And the hand never gets tired. Cold, though.*
*Hey, metal’s kinky*
*Of course, you’d think that*
*Seriously. Too bad it can’t vibrate*
*No, dude. Just no*
*Come on. I bet Stark could figure it out. Your very own Bucky massage machine*
*Shut up, Clint*
*The Vibro-arm! It slices, it dices, it rings your bell!*
*Anyone ever told you you’re crazy?*
*Every damn day. Hey, wait, I’ve got it! Lend me a hand, Buck, be a pal! I’ve got a mighty need *
*I’ll give you a hand all right. On the backside.*
*I thought S&M didn’t do it for you? Spanking, really? *
*If that’s what it takes to shut you up. And that’s a wave, dummy*
*Probably make me even louder. Going to have to keep my hands busy if you want me to stop. Wave, slap, come on*
*Yeah, I know what you can do with your ...*
“Gentlemen,” Steve said. Bucky looked up and realized almost everyone was gone except for Tony and Steve. “Your phone, please?”
Startled by the request, Bucky didn’t react fast enough to keep Steve from swiping his cell; Tony just grinned and snagged Clint’s. They both typed for a few minutes, phones buzzing before they handed them back.
“I’ll take care of the logistics,” Tony told them as he strolled out.
Bucky looked at the conversation on his screen.
*Bucky, darling, wilt thou do me the honor of allowing me to court you?*
*Why, yes, I’d love to go out with you*
*Tonight. 8. I’ll steal one of the fabulous Tony Stark’s less expensive cars and we shall dine on his dime*
*Sounds good*
“What’s good for the goose,” Steve said. “Maybe then you’ll pay more attention.”
“We should tell Steve,” Bucky said.
They’d blown off the reservations Tony had made at Per Se in favor of Clint’ favorite hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese take-out – literally a pass through window in an alley. The coffee table was littered with mostly empty white cartons that once held pho, com tam, banh chung, and banh bao. Only half a bottle of 333 Premium was left, sitting on the floor by the edge of the couch, Clint’s fingers loose around the neck.
“Right. ‘Cause that went so well with Nat.” Clint bent his leg and dropped his knee back against the cushions. “She’d have killed me if you hadn’t talked her down.”
Outside the windows, night had fallen across Manhattan, lights a reflection of the endless city life. Music played, classic rock to bring Bucky up to speed, or so Clint said. Bucky noticed they were spending a lot of time in the 70s. He shifted, settling more firmly between Clint’s legs, tipping his head back onto Clint’s shoulder.
“She was pissed at how long you’d known the Winter Solider and never told her.” Bucky wiggled back into the cradle of Clint’s hips. He dipped his metal hand down and snagged the bottle, finishing it off in one long swallow.
“Like I knew that James was the Winter Soldier or that they were both Bucky Barnes?” Clint curled his right arm around Bucky’s waist. “Who am I kidding? She’ll never let me live it down that I didn’t make the connection.”
“If it helps, she threatened to cut my balls off if I broke your heart.” Thing was, Bucky was sure she’d do it too. Never mind that Clint was a grown man and that they’d been doing this thing off and on for the last twelve years. From the first time when they’d crossed paths, both after the same target, something about Clint had sparked a part of Bucky that was fighting the programming. Again and again, Clint would ask him questions, simple sense memories, tiny drops of rebellion against the endless set of mission parameters. Then Bucky would forget and they’d be right back at the beginning again. “You’re on your own, Hawkass.”
“Aw, that’s sweet of her. Not that I have a heart to break, but, hey, it’s the thought that counts.” Clint and his sass. That self-deprecating sense of humor had been moments of warmth in Bucky’s frozen life. It was a lie; he knew Clint cared. To start over and over again, infinite patience of a sniper, trying to break through the conditioning told Bucky everything he needed to know about Clint. The sex was good, great actually, but it took more than a quick refraction time to put that much effort into this strange, broken but working relationship.
“Remember Bombay?” Bucky fell back on the shorthand they’d developed; don’t talk about it, circle around what needed to be said.
“First time you got on your knees for me. That tiny electrical house on the roof of the Oberoi.” Clint smiled at the memory. “You knew my name before I even spoke.”
“Omaha?” Bucky turned his head, his face close to Clint’s.
“Ooooh, yes, now that’s a nice thought. Three days in that little cabin, just you and me and a pile of fresh cut cedar for the fireplace.” Clint dragged his calloused fingers across the soft cotton of Bucky’s henley. “First time you told me about Steve. Didn’t use his name and I didn’t know him yet, but you remembered him.”
“And Krakow.” Bucky felt Clint tense at the name.
“One time, Buck. Out of all the times we were together, just once,” Clint argued. “It was my fault; I should have known better than to try and talk to you after they’d pulled the trigger phrase.”
“I stuck a knife in your ribs and left you for dead.” Thing about getting his memories back? They were all filtering in, even the ones he really didn’t want. The faces of those he’d killed, the blood on his hands, including Clint’s.
“But you didn’t kill me. You could have and you walked away while I was still breathing. That broke protocol; you told me yourself you’d resisted, that you knew Phil was a phone call away.” An old argument, one they agreed to disagree on.
“There’s no guarantee that I won’t lose it all again, Clint. No doctor or therapist or telepath can promise that I won’t hear the words and be the Soldier again.” Bucky sighed. This was the longest he’d gone, the most he’d gotten back, the closest he’d been to feeling like a person and not a thing. But he didn’t kid himself; he knew he would be battling this for life.
“Then we do what we always do. Start over.” Clint made it sound so easy. Just another game of questions.
“Goddamn optimist,” Bucky muttered.
Clint laughed and leaned in to brush his lips over Bucky’s. “How about Oslo?” he asked, changing the topic.
“Two gunshot wounds and a broken ankle? You spent the whole time sitting by my bedside like a big lovesick dolt.” Bucky had to smile, though. Waking up from fevered dreams and finding a warm hand holding his, a pair of concerned blue-green eyes, was one of his cherished memories.
“What we talked about, dummy. The bucket list.” Clint nudged Bucky in the back. “Funny thing is, now that I’m an Avenger, well, I’ve got money, and there’s this thing called the internet where you can order just about anything you can dream up …”
“Oh. You didn’t.” Bucky sat up and turned at the waist. “Tell me you didn’t buy some.”
“Three different sizes and colors,” Clint confirmed with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Did you know there’s even an official Avengers line? Wait until you see the Winter Soldier version.”
“You are shittin’ me,” Bucky protested.
“Come with me into the bedroom and find out.” Clint wiggled his eyes. “We’ll check it off the list AND see if you can go for four in an hour.”
“Damn, Barton. You’re on. You’ll be hard pressed to keep up.” Bucky swung off the couch and pulled Clint up with his metal hand, wrapping his other arm around Clint’s waist and trapping him with a kiss.
“Good thing I like it hard,” Clint said around Bucky’s lips.
Steve would have to wait until tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.
Bucky had a memory to make.