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Bucky tossed over another candy and Clint caught it in his mouth, seventeen for seventeen. He grinned widely, even though he was starting to feel a little queasy, and did the mostly-horizontal version of his victory dance.
"C'mon," he said, "at least make it a challenge."
Bucky rolled his eyes.
"You're killin' me," he said, balling up the ziploc bag he'd been fishing them out of and stuffing it in his pocket, and Clint grinned at him unrepentantly.
"I never miss," he said. "Not my fault I'm amazing."
"Your fault you've got the situational awareness of a goddamn brick wall, though." Bucky heaved himself to his feet, reaching out to grab Clint's hand and haul him up too. He kept tugging even when he was up, pulling Clint down to where he could kiss him more easily, twining his tongue with Clint's until Clint's toes were curling. "Put some pants on," Bucky said. "We're going to the tower."
"You really think, at this point, they're gonna expect pants?"
"I really think," Bucky told him, "you might get arrested on the subway."
"Aw, but that's what makes hanging out with me fun."
Bucky shook his head but he couldn't hide his grin, and Clint tugged him in for another kiss before scrambling upstairs, pulling on the worn jeans that did amazing things for his thighs and a faded gray shirt that was just a little too tight. He knew where his strengths were, and he was interested in holding Bucky's attention for the long haul.
It was one of those hot summer days that seemed to creep into the lobby even with the air-con, the ones that you had to take a deep breath of cool air before walking out into. The heat radiated up off the sidewalk, and Clint squinted into the day's bright light for a couple seconds before Bucky shoved a pair of sunglasses onto his face.
"Have I told you lately that I'd die for you?" Clint asked, and Bucky rolled his eyes and slipped his own sunglasses on, reaching out to grab Clint's hand.
"If it's all the same to you," he said, "I'd rather you didn't."
These kinds of days were honestly the best in Clint's life. The meandering sort, slow and gentle, no sort of deadline and nothing much more important than Bucky's hand in his. Bucky was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and grey sweatshorts, his arm glinting in the bright summer sun. His hair was still caught loosely in the knot Clint had tied it into that morning, a couple strands escaped now and hanging in his face. Even when he was relaxed and at ease he wore a don't-fuck-with-me look, and Clint loved every last grumpy inch of him with the forever sort of love.
Someday he'd work out a way to say that.
By the time they reached the subway station Clint was wilting a little with the heat, and he stopped at a bodega to grab ice-cold water for him and Bucky both. Couldn't help being a little bit of an asshole and yanked up the back of Bucky's shirt, pressing the condensation-wet plastic to the small of his back.
"You know no one's gonna blame me when I kill you," Bucky said, and Clint handed him the bottle before dramatically clasping his own to his heart, swooning back against the handrail that ran down the middle of the stairs.
"First you can't live without me, now you want to kill me. How am I supposed to know how you really feel?"
"Miss," Bucky said cryptically, and spun the cap off his bottle, taking a swig as he sauntered down the steps and ignoring Clint's every entreaty to tell him what the hell that meant.
He'd given up by the time they'd got tickets and were waiting on the platform. It was desert-hot and close, and Clint switched sides so he could hold Bucky's metal hand, warmed up slightly from the sun but still retaining a little of that air-con chill. He rested his forehead on Bucky's shoulder and Bucky absently pressed a kiss to his temple in passing.
They stood together on the C train when it came, swaying a little with the movement. The cool air in the carriage allowed Clint to move in closer, slinging his arm around Bucky's hips because there was honestly no place better it could be. The half hour ride passed mostly in easy silence, aside from the brief excitement when Clint spotted a dog peeking out of a woman's purse and had to be physically restrained until Bucky could ask her politely if she wouldn't mind Clint saying hey.
Even the heat of direct sunlight was a relief as they made their way out of the the 81st street station; even with the heat, though, Bucky let Clint wander past all the murals as slow as he wanted. There was a popsicle cart just along the street in the shade of a tree, and Clint bought two and handed one across, trashing the wrappers before taking Bucky's hand again.
"Hey," he said. "I love you."
Bucky smiled, something kinda secretive about it.
They stretched out the walk to Tony's tower, talking idly about whatever crossed their minds. A couple of times Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy, tossing them to Clint who dutifully caught them in his mouth, noting idly that the hearts were all the same shade of yellow.
"Not sure what I've done to deserve these," he said, and Bucky snorted.
"Yeah," he said. "Me either, but here we are."
The cool of Stark's lobby was a special kind of bliss, and Clint spread his arms out and basked for a moment before following Bucky across to the elevator. They both had to give a palm print before it would carry them up to the private floors, and the ride wasn't short; Clint was insistent that they spend as much of it making out as possible.
When the doors finally pinged open Clint startled backwards at the shower of confetti, squinting at the banner in confusion.
"Congratulations what?" he asked, turning to look at Bucky - only he had to readjust downward, 'cos Bucky was - Bucky was down on one knee.
"This is my last goddamn one, asshole," Bucky said, holding out a crumpled ziploc bag with a solitary yellow candy in it. The little printed words, when Clint pulled it out with shaking fingers, said 'say yes.'