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It was almost weird how easily Cap’s bestest buddy fit into their mismatched bunch after coming to grips with what happened (mostly). Clint was honestly expecting more fighting. Some explosions. Maybe a couple of violent outbursts. Either his therapists were some serious miracle workers or there were just really not that many occasions where anybody could clash horns. Surprisingly, even Stark wasn’t that big of a menace. After he got bored with the whole ‘my roof, my rules’ deal he slunk down to his lab and rarely emerged for anything else but booze and occasionally food. If Bruce was cooking.
So, yeah. For a group consisting of a couple of brilliant yet manic geniuses (each in their own way), a hammer–happy honest–to–God god, a superpowered soldier from way in the past, a couple of master ex–assassins and a new addition in the form of a hybrid superpowered ex–assassin soldier, there were shockingly little explosions. He was hoping for some explosions. It wasn’t a deal–breaker, of course not. No explosions. Cool with that. But this was the complete opposite of explosions. Unless… Would those be implosions? That wasn’t good either, though, was it? Huh.
Anyway, it was disgustingly peaceful, is what it was. And he strongly suspected it was because of all that blah contentedness their fearless leader spread around like a virus. Ever since Barnes came to live with them it only got worse.
Steve was the last to join them. He wouldn’t even consider it until he and the cool new dude, Sam, tracked Barnes down (destroying some Hydra bases while at it). Or technically until Barnes finally let himself be tracked down (after destroying some Hydra bases on his own).
Only then Steve settled down with them, giving his pal enough distance to get some healing without expectations. When he’d be ready to join him, he’d join him, no pressure. Which was really super cool of him. Clint still vividly remembered how it was with Natasha back in the beginning.
Yes, so Steve joined them. Walking right into the middle of a battlefield. Not really an active one (an occasional explosion didn’t count), but consisting rather of metaphorical landmines and covert ops. Clint loved to hang out in air vents a lot back then.
Steve went in like an invisible biological weapon. His quiet disappointment and air of illusory seniority directed at no one in particular and everyone at large were worse than loud scoldings and throwing punches. Within a month everyone was civil going on friendly. Clint got some awesome new arrows out of it when Tony threw himself into his passion. His other than annoying everyone around him passion. Even the big beneficiary wasn’t completely immune to Steve’s looks of dismay. Namely at his outrageous spendings. He was trying to be secret about it (and only Tony Stark would try to keep a secret that he was spending less), but it only worked until Ms. Potts herself came to say that she had no idea what Steve did, but she was honestly grateful and if he would please share his wisdom sometime it would be much appreciated.
So, all in all, things seemed to be as fine as they could get.
Wrong.
Cue Bucky Barnes.
Steve disappointed was a force of nature by himself. Steve content? Was a whole ‘nother thing. Steve times Barnes, it was contagious. Where those two would emerge, everybody sooner or later would also flock. It was like magic. Most of the time he was honest enough with himself to admit it worked on him, too. It was stronger than him. Just being around those two felt like everything was right with the world. Which was equal parts heartwarming and heartbreaking when you thought about what they have really been through. That they could keep going, that they found the strength to, it was inspiring. And that strength they seemed to be drawing from each other. Which was sweet. But disgusting. So sweet it was disgusting. Like now.
The three of them were sitting in one of the common area entertainment zones, as Stark insisted on calling them. It was one of everyone’s favorites, all warm colors, plush couches, soft carpets, overlooking the city, kitchen nearby, lots of good vantage points. That sort of favorite. Also it was Steve’s and by extension Bucky’s favorite. Which, yeah, was maybe the reason it was everyone else’s, too. One of the reasons, that is. Because there were the couches, and the… the carpets, sure.
And okay, it might’ve started out as the two of them sitting there and Clint just sort of vaguely sauntered down to bask in their glow, or whatever, you know. The sun was hitting this place just right, as opposed to his own quarters, so he decided to warm his bones. The added bonus of rustling book pages and occasional supersoldier murmurs was only that. An added bonus.
It was half an hour into this little impromptu get together that things started to get exactly the kind of tooth–rotting sweet he was talking about. He was stretched out along one of the couches, watching the proceedings through narrowed eyes of someone on the verge of falling asleep.
Steve took a breath to say something, not even looking up from his book. Clint found himself tuning in to his next words. Except they never had a chance to come.
“Sure,” Barnes was already standing up, having slapped Steve’s thigh reassuringly. He stretched with a quiet groan, joints popping and metal arm whirring, before running his hands through his freshly cut hair and yawning on his way around the couch. Cap made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat, still engrossed in his book.
Clint blinked as Bucky disappeared in the kitchen. What.
Steve kept turning pages, feet up on the coffee table (and wasn’t that a kicker), like nothing happened. Clint wondered if he missed something. He rarely missed something. Natasha wouldn’t have missed anything. He missed Natasha.
“Steve!” Bucky’s muffled voice came from the next room over.
“Middle drawer, right of the fridge!”
Seriously. Was he unknowingly living with telepaths now? He demanded to know if he lived with telepaths now.
Minute later Barnes emerged from the kitchen holding two mugs. He came up behind Steve and dangled one in front of his face. Rogers took it and smiled while Barnes jumped over the back of the couch and landed in his abandoned seat without spilling a single drop of whatever was in his own mug. Did he have some sort of chicken head thing going for that fancy arm of his? He immediately went back to his own lecture of the day, which seemed to be his own biography. Clint would’ve snorted at that if he weren't also completely sure he'd be the first one to throw himself at his own biography the second such a thing came into existence.
He yawned, letting himself be lulled again into peacefulness of the moment, deciding not to deliberate freaky mental powers and weird–ass codependency issues anymore. Whatever, it wasn’t even the strangest he’s seen. Wasn’t even in the top ten.
But then, might’ve been five minutes later, Barnes suddenly furrowed his brow.
“Hey, you okay?” he nudged Cap with his leg. Clint’s entire face scrunched up. Rogers looked just like he did five minutes ago.
“What? Oh, yeah,” Steve finally looked up from the pages, breathing in deep. “You know,” he motioned the book. Barnes nodded and went back to his.
Okay, now this was bullshit. Clint’s hearing might be bad. Some might say nonexistent. But he was pretty fucking sure nobody said a goddamned thing just then. He even had his fancy cybernetically enhanced aids on (again, Stark’s courtesy) and he called bullshit.
“What the hell was that?” he expressed his confusion in the most well–mannered way possible. Two sets of eyes landed on him. “Oh, no, no, no. Don’t look at me like I’m the weird one, you, with all your… lovey–dovey creepalooza goin’ on.”
He could just hear Cap start asking before Barnes cut in.
“I think he means our…”
“Oh,” realization dawned on Steve. They shared a look. They laughed. Those fucks.
“This!” Clint pointed at them theatrically from where he was sprawled over his couch. Not his most imposing moment, but it’d do. “Unacceptable!”
“What’s unacceptable?” Natasha emerged from the kitchen.
“Nat!” he grinned, hoisting himself up into a sitting position. “Come sit with me!”
She did, ruffling Steve and Bucky’s hair on her way over. He forgave her for such blatant fraternizing with the enemy, because she was awesome.
“I didn’t know you were back,” he shuffled closer to her on the sofa. She was in and out of the Tower since the whole fiasco with SHIELD. Nobody really knew where she was off to and nobody asked.
“What’s unacceptable?” she repeated, glancing between them. Ah, yes.
“Mindreading,” he glared at the super couple. Steve looked mildly amused, while Barnes seemed affronted.
“Excuse me,” he started. “It was the… His breathing…”
“Breathing!” Clint exclaimed. “Ha! Sorcery I call it! Nat, tell them.”
She smirked and flicked him.
“You’re an idiot.”
Barnes looked at him smugly from his nest at Cap’s side.
“How could you?” Clint gasped, but he relaxed. “I’m glad you’re back anyway.”
“Yeah, me too,” she hummed and settled more comfortably against the cushions. “Now if you boys don’t mind I’d like to get some sleep.”
Clint didn’t question why she’d rather be catching her z’s on a common room couch instead of her oversized, indecently soft bed. He got it. He also didn’t press the mindreading issue after that, letting Nat get her share of supersoldier supercalm. He’d get them on that later. Weirdos. Sickeningly adorable weirods.
Slowly, the room filled with warm tranquility once more and Clint let himself be swept right into it, resting his head on top of Natasha’s on his shoulder and breathing deep.
Not long after, Bruce shuffled in still wearing his lab coat and carefully lowered himself on one of the other sunbathed couches. He took off his glasses and wiggled out of the coat, stretching his legs in front him and sighing. His breathing evened out and Clint suspected he probably slipped into one of his meditative states.
Barnes let out a quiet, breathy laugh at something he read.
“I know, right?” Rogers answered with a chuckle of his own, as if he knew exactly what his buddy was laughing about. He probably did, the freak. He was the one who lent him the book.
Their quiet voices somehow managed to add to the stillness without disturbing it.
That was not long before the last present entity in the Avengers Tower nearly crawled inside the room, dark circles under his eyes alone practically dragging him down.
Tony took the final few steps and dropped to the carpet like a sack of potatoes, right into the sun patch. He mumbled something incoherent into the fibers and promptly fell asleep. He must’ve really pulled some intense all–nighters to just check out like that.
Thor was visiting Jane on the other side of the planet right now, so they weren’t expecting him anytime soon, but if he were here it wouldn’t have taken him long to figure out where the party was at, too.
Clint looked around the room. Somehow the entire set managed to gradually drift down here from around the place. Thousands of square feet to choose from and somehow they always ended up here. Every damn time. Wherever their two resident geriatrics decided to set up camp, bam. Like walking magnets. Human Christmas trees. Bringing them all together. Blah.
See? He weren’t lying. It was friggin’ magic.