Work Text:
“Stop messing with it!” Bucky found himself scolding his best friend for the umpteenth time that morning, pulling a comb out of his pocket and using it to fix Steve’s hair, making sure to smooth the golden locks back, allowing only one lucky lock of hair to swoop attractively over his forehead. “If you touch it again, I swear on your mother’s name that I’ll dig out those handcuffs from the bachelor party and make sure you won’t touch it again until you’re standing at the end of that aisle, eyes glued to the man we’re dressing you up for.”
“It’s fine, perfectly fine, Buck.” Steve shrugged, moving his hand up towards his hair yet again. Bucky moved quick, slapping the top of his hand with the comb and grabbing his wrist to pull it down further.
“I agree with Bucky.” Sam said, sitting on the end of the bed in the hotel room they were getting ready in as he shined shoes for the three of them. “If we keep having to fix your hair, then we’ll have less time to make sure you’re perfect for your man.”
“We should have gotten Stevie a fidget spinner or something.” Bucky sighed, shaking his head and going back to tying Steve’s bowtie for him, “Why didn’t we think to get him a fidget toy?”
“Because normally Steve doesn’t need one.” Sam shrugged.
It was true. Steven Rogers was a man who stood strong and never got nervous—except when it came to one Tony Stark. Steve was reduced to a bundle of nervous shyness when he became interested in the nerdy little computer geek and decided to ask him out. It happened again when Steve decided to try proposing. So really, they probably should have guessed it’d happen again when Steve was about to finally marry his boyfriend of seven years.
Bucky opened his mouth to say as much when a knock sounded at the door. He glanced over at it before looking back at Sam and sighing, “I'll go see who it is. Steve, don’t touch the hair!” he said as he stepped away from Steve and moved to the door. He took a second to peek through the peephole before opening the door. All he saw was someone’s back.
When he yanked the door open, the visitor spun around and let out a dazzling grin (Oh no, those dimples were adorable). The man was tall, well-built, and wearing a nice suit with a purple shirt and black tie. His hair looked like it had been slicked back nicely, but refused to play nice with the mousse and stuck up in places, anyway. It was not a bad look. Over one shoulder was a bulky bag, and in the hand opposite was a rather fancy looking camera.
“Hello; Clint Barton. I’m uh, I’m the photographer for the wedding of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark? Tony sent me over here to snap some getting ready pictures of his groom.” he said, holding out his hand with the camera before realizing it and switching the camera over to his other hand.
“Bucky Barnes, best man for Stevie.” Bucky said, flashing a smile at Clint. The photographer seemed...adorable. And not at all like what he expected when he’d been told that Tony was the one to find a photographer. He had thought Steve would handle that part of the planning. Steve was, after all, an artist and had connections with other art-centric people, and Bucky was pretty sure photographers were a type of artist. At least, they had to be more artist than computer engineer or whatever it was that Tony did. Bucky had never paid too close attention to Tony when he got to talking about his work. Yet here stood a photographer chosen by Tony, and the man was just so perfectly Bucky’s type. He wanted to ask him out for coffee, but no—no, Clint wasn’t here for socializing or coffee dates, no, he was here for work. This was his job. Taking pictures of Steve’s attempts to sabotage Bucky’s work on his hair and—
“Nice to meet you, Bucky, but um, can I come in, or do you think it’s bad luck for a guy who has seen groom number one to then go see groom number two in some sort of cross-contamination type deal?” Clint snarked suddenly, bringing Bucky out of his thoughts.
“Sorry, sorry!” he said, letting go of Clint’s hand, realizing that he’d been just standing there holding it, not even shaking it—for who knows how long. “Come on in.” he stepped back out of the doorway and held it open for Clint to enter.
Clint smiled at him and stepped inside, setting his bag down on the little table between the two beds, mostly because it was the only place with space left, and he started going through his equipment, changing the lens and choosing a filter for the flash.
Bucky forced himself to tear his eyes away from Clint, realizing that Sam and Steve were both giving him a knowing look.
“Fuck off.” he said, flipping them the bird.
Sam burst into laughter. “Real smooth, Romeo.”
“You hold his hand long enough, or should we give you two a minute?” Steve snarked.
“Steve! Don’t take Sam’s side on this!” Bucky gasped. “And—fuck, you messed your hair again! That’s it, where are those handcuffs?”
“Now that would be an interesting picture.” Clint laughed, turning around with his camera in hand. “ Please do find those handcuffs.”
“They have the bright red fluffy things on them, they shouldn’t be hard to find.” Sam said, setting the shoes and polish aside and getting up to help look. He found them and grinned, dangling them in the air, “Turn around, Captain my Captain.”
“Really?” Steve asked, his arms crossed.
“You are under the marriage arrest. You have the right to say I do, any vows you present can be held against you until death do you part.” Sam snickered as Bucky helped coax Steve into turning around with his arms behind his back.
As Sam cuffed the groom so he’d stop messing his hair, Bucky pulled out the comb yet again and started fixing the mess Steve had made. There were a few flashes as Clint captured the moment, moving around to get a few angles. Bucky ignored the flashes and stepped back when he was finished, “There, now go sit down and we’ll help you with the shoes.”
The wedding itself was blessedly short. Sam and Bucky had kindly removed the cuffs from Steve’s wrists before walking with him out to the car where they drove to the venue. Though Bucky refused to trust Steve not to mess with his hair, so he quite firmly held onto both his hands while Sam drove them.
They arrived and checked to make sure everything was ready, before greeting a few of the guests before taking their places. Steve managed to keep his hands away from his hair, and Bucky finally let himself relax.
The music started playing and he took his queue to go, walking along behind the last row of guests towards the center where he met up with Tony’s maid of honor, Pepper. She smiled and slipped her arm through his and they turned to walk down the aisle. They split off and took their places, turning in time to watch Sam meet up with Tony’s best man Rhodey and the two men walked together to join him and Pepper.
The music changed and everyone stood up and turned around to watch as Steve and Tony walked towards each other, met in the middle, pausing while Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead, and then they were walking together, arm in arm down the aisle, both beaming with happiness, a hint of tears in both sets of eyes.
Bucky was only somewhat aware of Clint quietly moving around, his camera held up to his face as he worked to capture the moment.
And then Steve’s free hand lifted, his hand sliding through his hair, and Bucky bit back a groan. Fine, Steve can get married with messed hair. It’s too late to fix it one last time.
The two lovebirds made it to the front and turned to look at each other, hand in hand as the man marrying them started his speech on love and marriage. The two were prompted through their vows and ring exchange, which Bucky stepped forward to present the two rings from his pocket, Then they kissed, were pronounced married, and they fled hand-in-hand back down the aisle.
Following the ceremony, Bucky got to really watch Clint at work as he directed the wedding party around a photoshoot in some nice looking location. It was easy to get lost in watching how muscles flexed under Clint’s purple shirt after he removed his jacket for more mobility, and he started stooping down and climbing up onto things in order to get better angles, and wow, those pants did everything for the man’s ass when he stooped low or bent over. More than once, Sam had to nudge Bucky’s attention away from the handsome photographer before he realized he’d been asked to join the pictures about to be taken or had unknowingly drifted into the shot he wasn’t meant to be part of.
The reception was busy, keeping Bucky distracted from staring too much at the photographer that moved around the room with his camera, documenting the party and capturing key moments for the newlyweds. Eventually Bucky found himself fully distracted after the general dancing started up and he had a few friends and his sister ask him for a dance. Exhausted and ready for a break after his fifth dance with Becca, Bucky all but collapsed in his chair at the head table, tugging his tie looser as he glanced around, wondering if it was okay to ask the event photographer for a dance once he caught his breath and felt a little less sweaty.
Uhg. Sweaty.
He gave himself a subtle sniff, hoping he didn’t stink. He didn’t want to chase off the cute photographer by offending his nose the day they met! That would be the absolute worst.
The chair next to him shifted and a body wearing red plopped down next to him. Bucky pulled his gaze away from searching the room for the flash of a camera to find a gorgeous redhead with eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man. Bucky didn’t know her personally, but he was pretty sure he’d seen her dancing with Pepper a lot. And Tony’s friend from college Bruce, so it was safe to bet she was on Tony’s side of this gathering.
“Uh, Hi.” he said.
She gave a small smile, the corners of her red lips quirked upwards just enough to let him know she was amused. She then shifted and pulled a napkin that was clearly from the cake table with how it’s edges were scalloped and made to look like lace out of her cleavage. Across the front of it was a phone number written in sparkly purple ink, and she slid it over to him.
He picked it up and looked between her and it with confusion, “Sorry, but aren’t you with Pepper? Or that Bruce guy? Should you really be giving me your number, Miss..?”
“Natasha.” She offered, amusement sparkling in her green eyes, “And I may be with Pepper or that Bruce guy....” She said, “...but that’s not my number.”
“It’s not? Then what’s the number for? —Don’t say it’s a barber. I like my hair long.” He got enough comments about his hair from his parents and boss, thank you very much.
Natasha let out an amused sound at that. “Why would I care about what you do with your hair? No this,” she tapped her finger to the napkin, “Is Clint’s personal number.”
Bucky blinked at her dumbly, “Clint’s...personal number? What—how did—why didn’t…”
“He’s my brother, well, practically. We had been foster siblings since we were seven. It was kind of hard to ignore how you kept glancing at him today. He was trying to keep things professional, but he sent a few looks back at you, you know. So I’m taking initiative.”
“He doesn’t know?”
“He knows I stole his favorite pen to write something down on a napkin.” She shrugged.
Bucky started looking around the room for Clint.
“He’s not here.” Nat said, “He went back to the hotel to start processing the photos from today. Back things up and sort through them. All that boring stuff.”
Bucky felt a bit of disappointment at the news. He wasn’t going to get the chance to ask Clint for a dance…
“Give him a call—or text, he responds better to texts, actually.” Natasha said, standing up and moving away towards where Bruce and Pepper were swaying to the music, leaving Bucky to look down at the number he was given.
On one hand, it was rude to contact a personal number when the owner of that number had not given it themselves...but...it had been the guy’s sister who offered it, so maybe it was okay?
He sighed and stood up, walking outside to get away from the loud music and have a breath of fresh air before he pulled his phone from his pocket.
After programming in Clint’s number, promesing himself to delete it if Clint was upset by him getting it, he opened up his texting app.
Hey, this is Bucky. The best man from the wedding? Your sNatasha gave me your number, I hope that’s okay?
He hit send and then cringed, seeing his typo that was caused by him changing his mind on how to word things halfway through typing it out. He was usually so good at double checking his texts before sending.
Ha! I’m totally calling her Snat now.
Not really, she’s kick my ass if I did that.
She’s scary af.
**she’d
Ayway hey! Have fun today?
*Anyway geez typing is hard today and sutocorrrect is apparently on a break.
*autocorrect what the fuck
Clint’s replies came through one right after another. At least it seemed he wasn’t upset over Natasha giving out his number like she did. He was about to start replying when another message appeared.
Want to know my final count of how many times groom #2 messed his hair today?
Bucky was helpless against the smile that spread across his face as he erased his first attempt at a reply to change it to fit the most recent message he received.
Is it more than ten?
SO much more than 10. Like wow. If each time was a comb and you put the combs in a bag you wouldn’t be able to shove it in a breadbox. Like bigger than a breadbox many times!
He barked out a laugh.
That’s a confusing number of times, so more than 20?
Yeah
Sorry
Nat says I’m ridiculous iknow.
That was a real dumb way to put it
No
I mean
Okay it was a bit ridiculous
But it was amusing
I loled for real
In a good way
With you not at you
Great. Now it felt awkward, and Bucky couldn’t figure out what to say next without it feeling more awkward or even forced.
After a long moment his phone buzzed and he looked down.
Okay, lets start over. No bread boxes this time.
Alright sounds good.
Do you have to work tomorrow morning?
Nope.
Well, kinda nope
My work as wedding photog isn’t done yet
Getting everything backed up sorted and organized tonight
Then i get to do the editing which tames time
*takes
But the shooting is over and i dont have any shoots scheduled 4 tomorrow at all
Y?
Bucky smiled at his phone again.
Can I buy you coffee?
LAGASP
Coffee!
A man truly after my own heart!
It’s a date!
Meet me in the hotel lobby at 9?
Wait are you staying in the same hotel as earlier? I am. Got stuck sharing a roon with Nat and her two squeezes
*room
Yeah, I’m rooming with Sam.
I’ll let you get back to work.
And I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.
Am not pm right?
Right.
Bucky tucked his phone back in his pocket and turned to head back inside. Clint, it turned out, was just as adorable in personality as he was attractive, and now he had a date with the guy! Well, a coffee date. But that counted for something, right?
It had to.
Because he had a date.
The following morning came both way too early and not early enough as his phone started blaring out one of the louder songs by the band Gremlin 47, coaxing Bucky out of his dreams as his hand blindly moved around in search of his phone.
Sam groaned, “Why the fuck are you assaulting my ears with that crap so early in the morning, man?”
“You don’t appreciate musical brilliance.” Bucky huffed.
Truthfully, it had been an acquired taste for him. He’d hated the band when he first heard it, but his younger sister loved their music, and after so much forced exposure, he’d begun to enjoy it.
“What time even is it?” Sam grouched.
“Eight-thirty.” Bucky said, getting up and stretching.
“Check-out’s not even until three . Or did you forget we paid extra for the late checkout time so we could, you know, sleep in ?”
“Got a date.” Bucky shrugged, opening his duffle bag and digging through it for some nicer looking—but still casual—clean clothes.
“A date?”
“Yeah.”
“Like the fruit?”
“You don’t know what a date is? Boy, how long has it been for you?” Bucky smirked over his shoulder.
“Shuddup, I have a hangover.” Sam muttered.
Things were quiet for a moment as Bucky pulled on a pair of jeans and socks before searching for a shirt.
“...It with that hot redhead that was talking to you last night? I assume she slipped you her number on that napkin she handed you.”
“There is no redhead, only coffee.”
“You’re a dick.”
“A dick who’s about to get amazing coffee with the fancy foam art and everything.” Bucky stuck his tongue out before pulling on the soft, faded blue t-shirt he found. He was pretty sure it belonged to Steve, but it was nicer-looking than his other options. Why had he packed only black and grey shirts that had stains or holes in them?
Shaking his head, he moved to the bathroom, ran a brush through his hair and swept it back into a simple tail before brushing his teeth. He’d gotten a shower before climbing into bed, so he’d get the illusion of getting more sleep by having a later alarm.
He grabbed his wallet, phone, and room key before checking the time. “I’ll be back later to help pack up before checkout.” he promised, and Sam only gave a sleepy hum, already mostly back asleep.
Clint was leaning against the wall of the lobby by the elevator doors when Bucky stepped out, his head bent as he scrolled on his phone, and his messy hair falling into his eyes. He wore a purple zip-up hoodie, unzipped, tight ripped jeans that accented his butt just right and—was that one of the limited run of pride-themed Gremlin 47 t-shirts? It was certainly the band’s logo, but the color of the lines were a rainbow gradient. Bucky was a little jealous. He’d missed the opportunity to snatch one up because, well, he had still been in denial about liking the band’s music.
“Hey.” Bucky raised a hand in greeting.
Clint looked up and smiled, a sleepy look on his face, “Hello there oh handsome promiser of coffee.”
“You get enough sleep?”
Clint shrugged, “I went to bed before Nat and co stumbled in. Just haven't gotten my coffee yet. At best I only run at ten percent capacity before coffee.”
“Well, shall we go fix that?”
“Lead the way.” Clint said, slipping his phone into the pocket of his hoodie and then slipping his hand into Bucky’s. “This is okay, right? I just assumed you like holding hands after yesterday…”
“It’s fine only if coffee dates count as real dates.” Bucky flushed.
“They completely do in my book.” Clint said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Any date involving coffee, pizza, or dogs is high on my ideal date list.”
“I lucked out then. Come on.” Bucky held open the door for Clint and they stepped outside. It was a little chilly out, but not bad as they walked down the sidewalk to the nearest little local coffee shop. There was a Starbucks that was closer the other way, but Bucky much preferred local shops whenever possible.
“What do you like? I’ll order for us, you go find us a seat.” he suggested.
Clint got a mischievous smile on his tired face, “I’m really not picky about coffee. Surprise me.”
A challenge. Bucky smiled and nodded, getting into line and deciding to get Clint the same thing he normally got for himself. He knew it was good that way and would hopefully impress more than if he ordered Clint something he had no idea about—or something too plain.
As he waited his turn in line, and through waiting for the coffees to be made, Bucky kept stealing little glimpses of Clint who had grabbed a seat by the window and slumped over, tiredly resting his cheek on his propped up hand and eyes closed while letting out a jaw-cracking yawn.
Gosh, he was adorable .
Bucky was handed the coffees and he moved to join Clint at the table, setting one of the oversized mugs down under Clint’s nose.
Just by the smell alone, Clint seemed to perk up and he slipped his hands around the coffee mug, picking it up to sip, only to pause and lift his head up in a goofy grin, “You put a puppy in my coffee!” he said, nodding down at the foam art shaped like a dog.
“You told me to surprise you.”
“New favorite coffee.” Clint practically purred as he took a sip and relaxed, letting the caffeine do it’s thing.
“So,” Bucky said after it seemed Clint was more awake and he had also had a good amount of his coffee to wake himself up the rest of the way, “You left early last night.”
Clint shrugged, “I was there working, not as a guest. Tony said I could stay if I wanted, but I figured getting the photos backed up was more important. Why? Did I miss something funny?”
“You missed me asking you for a dance.”
Clint’s face turned red and he mouthed a silent “Oh.” He sighed and seemed a little shy as he gave a small smile, “I didn’t think anyone would be interested in doing that with me. Except maybe Nat, but she has a boyfriend and a girlfriend to dance with…”
“Well, surprise, I was interested.”
Clint’s face flushed even redder as he finished off his coffee, then he suddenly stood up and held out his hand to Bucky. “Alright.”
Bucky blinked dumbly up at Clint, “Alright?”
“Alright.” Clint nodded, wiggling his hand.
Confused, Bucky took it, only to gasp in surprise when he was pulled to his feet and in close to Clint who wrapped his arm around him. He tilted his head to the side so that his hearing aid that Bucky was only just noticing could better pick up the sound he was looking for, and shifted them a little more under the speaker in the ceiling that was playing something that really didn’t matter because holy shit; they were swaying to it right in the middle of the coffee shop.
People were watching.
But Bucky forced himself not to care as he relaxed into Clint, placing his own arms around the blond. It wasn’t anything fancy or choreographed; they didn’t have the space for any of that, but just standing there swaying and making a slow rotation was enough.
Bucky smiled, taking one of Clint’s hands and lifting it, pressing a slow, soft kiss to his wrist. “Thank you.” he whispered against soft skin.
“Aw, crush, no…” Clint’s head fell forward so he could hide his smile into Bucky’s shoulder, “You’re going to make me fall hard and fast for you if you keep this up.”
Bucky smiled, “Then I’ll just have to keep it up, doll.”
-End-