Work Text:
He wasn’t sure when he even realised that the pictures uploading to his cloud storage weren’t even his. It had taken him a while to work it out – those black and white shots of New York could have been ones he’d taken, if he was anyway half decent with a camera. Mostly the shots he took were fuzzy, a bit blurred, normally with one of his fingers caught over the lens a dark orange blob obscuring the top left hand side of the photograph. He’d actually been pretty proud of those black and white shots that were suddenly there, uploaded and looking professional.
Until a weekend bender with Natasha and Clint was over, and he’d spend the whole day in bed – only to find some new pictures that he definitely hadn’t taken. Mostly because he wasn’t at Coney Island – and he’d gone through all of his pictures to see…
At least half of them weren’t his. Now that he was paying closer attention though, it was obvious. Obviously Bucky hadn’t uploaded pictures of hipsters chilling in the park, looking posed and casual at the same time. Obviously Bucky hadn’t taken that shot from the Empire State Building – shit, he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever been up there aside from the mandatory school trip every kid in the New York area had to go through. Some of the pictures had been taken with a mobile phone or something, he figured out – but they were all obviously the same persons stuff.
He wasn’t sure how to stop it – googling the answer showed that sometimes it happened and all you needed to do was change your password, but the idea that those pictures would not be saved at all, just lost forever, made him pause. It wasn’t like he saved a lot to the cloud storage, and really, what did it hurt, right? Maybe one day he’d work out who it was, and he’d be able to send all of the forgotten pictures to their owner – a modern day message in a bottle.
“Buck,” Clint was saying, sprawled over the couch and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, wore whatever stuck to him, and called it a day (that was exactly what he’d done) before coming over to lay around at Bucky’s apartment, whined. “Did you delete the photo you took of us at the Red Rooms? Man, that was a good one, why did you delete it?”
Bucky, who was fully dressed and at least looked like he’d bothered trying to look less like death, looked up from his kindle. The best thing about having a buddy like Clint was that he didn’t actually care if Bucky wanted to read while he lounged about. He was a very low maintenance best friend.
“I didn’t.” He said, looking up. Clint was on his laptop, going through all the pictures from the night before. “Should be there.”
“It’s not.” Clint replied, waving a hand lazily at the screen. “Or the one I took of Tash in the feather-y thing.” He paused. “You think she ninja’d her way in here while you were sleeping and deleted it?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Why?”
“Blackmail material.” Clint responded promptly. “She knew I was gonna use it as my phone screen.” He winked, “Bet she’d be mortified.”
Bucky thought about that for a moment, the picture Clint had taken would have been Natasha wearing a feather boa and dancing with a couple of strippers. “You think she’d be embarrassed about that?” He questioned, because he might not be dating her like Clint was, but he did know her. “She’d probably use it as hers.”
Clint barked out a laugh and then nodded. “She would.” He grinned, and zoned out a little – probably thinking of all the ways he’d lucked out when Natasha agreed to give their relationship a chance. Bucky was of the opinion that she’d never, ever, have done that if she wasn’t already half mad on Clint, but he kept that to himself. Firstly, thinking that he had to prove he was good enough, Clint had become an almost perfect boyfriend, and secondly, she’d kill him. Her issues had issues, but she was one of his best friends. Weirdly, the fact that two of his best friends were now dating, actually meant that they spent more time with him.
He thought maybe they’d had a talk – operation ‘Don’t let Bucky feel like the third wheel’ – about it, and now he actually saw a lot more of them than ever before. Like this morning, when Clint should probably be at his own apartment, sleeping off his hangover, rather than slouched on Bucky’s couch eating his food. “Where is it though?” He asked, scrolling through the images from the night before. “Doesn’t your shit back-up automatically?”
“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, going back to reading. “Weird.” He paused. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting Tash in like, an hour?” He added, not looking up.
“Yeah?” The other man said, giving a half-hearted stretch.
“Just wondered if you were gonna go meet her like that.” Bucky pointed out, shooting Clint a look. “I’m sure she won’t mind.”
Clint blinked, once, and then again, before launching to his feet. “Holy shit, fuck!” He said, looking down. His stained jogging pants (never once used for actual jogging) and his grey (once white) t-shirt were most definitely not going to cut it with Tash. Especially if they were meeting anywhere public. “Fuck!” He said, looking around the room.
Bucky’s apartment was always neat and tidy. The messiest thing there was Clint.
“You can use the shower here.” Bucky told him, rolling his eyes. “And you can raid my closet if you need to.”
Clint sagged with relief. Bucky’s clothes passed the Natasha test, because she was there when Bucky bought most of them. “Aww thanks, man.” He said, heading for the bathroom.
“Just don’t piss in my shower!” Bucky called after him, getting a snort and a ‘suuuure’ before the door clicked shut.
Bucky liked the way he looked. He was aware he was good looking; he worked out, took great care in the way he dressed, liked to dance, loved good food and would generally call himself a good friend. He had a shit eating grin and a square jaw and never needed to look far for company if he was in the mood.
He was pretty sure he wasn’t overly confident though, hoped he walked that line between ‘good guy’ and ‘that asshole’ and he remembered the names of every girl he ever dated. But at 25 years old, with a good job working as a logistics manager at the docks, where he’d worked his ass off from the ground up, a nice apartment in a not terrible area – he was in the middle of what he’d probably class as a quarter life crisis. Once Clint had left, he put his kindle down and picked up the laptop.
He’d been about to do a little research when Clint had arrived, and although he was pretty sure his best buddy wouldn’t actually freak the fuck out – Bucky wasn’t exactly sure he wanted anyone knowing until he knew himself.
When Bucky was 14 years old he necked with his first girl. It didn’t take long for him to lose his virginity after that, and it had been awesome. It was still awesome. However, around about the time he’d dropped out of college so he could focus on his actual job (It didn’t make sense, but there you go – he was more successful than others his age, and debt free) he found himself looking at guys.
He didn’t think about it much. He loved girls, adored everything about them – but recently he’d been wondering if he was just kinda ignoring another part of him. He wasn’t the type of guy who ‘just couldn’t tell’ if another guy was good looking, and he’d always enjoyed trying new things – his last girl had been really into pegging and once they’d broken it off (no hard feelings) he’d gone online and bought himself a toy of his own.
He was totally in to that. In a big way.
He wasn’t worried about what his friends would say, in fact he was pretty sure that Natasha had a running bet on when he ‘realised’ that he liked guys, but no point in saying anything until he was sure. So he googled a few things, a couple of clubs, a few forums, and a lot (like a lot) of porn. He also changed his facebook profile picture while he was there, and spent way too long posing. Fuck it, he didn’t work out every morning not to take the occasional shirtless pic. He grinned at his phone camera, grabbing at his junk, porno style. Looking at the picture, he snorted a laugh – and deleted it.
“I’ve got a date.” He said when Natasha showed up at his door just as he was leaving. She just shrugged and sat herself down on the couch, picking up his Xbox controller and headset.
“I’ll let myself out.” She grinned, before turning everything on.
“I don’t know why you don’t just buy yourself one.” He pointed out – she played it more than he did, she was better at most games than Bucky and Clint combined.
“Because then I’d have no excuse to come over and bug you.” She replied, scrolling through options. “What’s her name?”
“Brock.” He said, going for casual. She didn’t even bat an eyelid, just pulled on the headset and nodded.
“I’ll be gone before you get back.”
He didn’t doubt it.
The next day, Bucky was sitting at work trying not to squirm, as his boss came through the doors. “Ah, if it isn’t my favourite asset!” He said, all forced smiles. Bucky knew for a fact that Pierce fucking hated it when he had to mix with what he classed as ‘the help’ but without Bucky and his team, he’d have nothing – so he showed up every month or so to remind them that he was ‘one of the common people’. Mostly he told little stories about he too, started with nothing (bullshit, Bucky knew, his dad was loaded) and worked his way to the top (double bullshit, he was handed the job by said daddy) and wasn’t it great how well they all got along, us guys together?
Bucky was his ‘favourite’ which normally meant that he’d be given all of the special jobs, the ones that Pierce wanted done quick and quiet and were very likely bad news for Bucky – overtime, extra work, no pay. Pierce delighted in reminding him that Bucky was nothing without Hydra Shipping, no qualifications and no prospects outside of that company. Subtly, of course. While smiling.
“Good Morning, Sir.” Bucky replied, throwing a quick glance around the room and please to find that all the other guys at least looked like they were working their asses off. Thank god, the last time Pierce had shown up, one of the guys had been checking his phone and got fired on the spot.
“Glad to see everything had picked up since my last drop in.” Pierce said, a smile like a politician. “Although, I have a little job for you, James, if you’ll just come with me?”
It wasn’t a question, and Bucky nodded. No point in mentioning that he was currently swamped with work, or to point out (again) that he didn’t have the time to do all Pierces little ‘side missions’ that he was so fond of. Those things had a way of being ignored by his boss, or he got a lecture about shaping the company.
Three fucking days of overtime later, getting to the office at 5am and not leaving until midnight (on Wednesday he just slept at work, there was no point in going back to his apartment for an hour’s nap, shower and something to eat) he’d finally finished what Pierce had wanted. Shipping lines were notoriously difficult to change, and Pierces ‘idea’ had been a fucking nightmare, but at least he was able to hand it over in time for his boss to get a pat on the back from his shareholders. Bucky wouldn’t get a mention, of course. The ‘assets’ stayed in the shadows, doing all the damn work while the higher-ups got the glory.
Once he’d eaten, showered and crashed out for a couple of hours, he checked his emails. One from Natasha who pointed out (not for the first time) that he needed to get the fuck out of Hydra before it killed him. She knew what she was talking about – they’d met each other on their first days of work. Tash had lasted a year before pointedly telling Pierce to go suck a dick and walking out. To this day, she wouldn’t tell him why.
Another from Brock, telling him that it had been great, but he wasn’t interested in taking it further. Bucky grinned at that, because as much as the sex had been pretty good, it certainly hadn’t rocked his world – and Brock was a total asshole. It saved Bucky the job of sending him an email with the same message.
He also got an email asking if he wanted to upgrade his cloud storage as he was reaching his limit.
There were more pictures. Mostly of New York in black and white and looking like a brochure for ‘Visit USA’ but as he scrolled through, he was aware that there were also pictures of more stupid, common stuff, the kind of snaps Bucky would take. A picture of a pair of jeans, one of someone’s feet, obviously taken in error, a table at a night club filled with colourful drinks.
And a selfie.
More importantly – a fucking nude selfie.
Tall, blond and ripped to hell, the guy was looking at the camera and smirking like he could read Bucky’s mind. Broad shoulders and narrow hips and (god damn) the guy was proportional. Proportional like… like a fucking horse. Bucky decided – right then – that, yup. Guys were on the menu.
Bucky stripped and tried to copy the pose – snapping a few pics and feeling a little dejected that he didn’t look half as good as the God filling up his cloud storage, and deleted the pics.
“How was your date?” Clint asked, as he watched Bucky cook diner. It was an unspoken rule that once a month they had dinner – a proper, adult meal, with plates and wine and talked about politics and at least pretended to be adults. Mostly they ended up talking about the same shit they always talked about but they tried at least to stay current.
Bucky was in the process of trying not to cry as he prepared the onion for the caramelised balsamic onions that were Natasha’s favourite – and technically Clint was making mashed potatoes, to go with the pork schnitzel but mostly he was just dicking around with the knives.
“Eh, okay.” Bucky shrugged, blinking.
“Yeah? No big ol, shit I’m gay crisis?” Clint said, throwing the sharpest knife Bucky owned in the air and catching it easily. It would have freaked him out if he hadn’t known Clint was a master at juggling.
Bucky shook his head. “Nah. I mean, he was a bit of a jerk and I won’t see him again, but the sex was good.”
Clint managed to look disappointed. “Oh.” He said, and then caught himself. “I mean like, that’s good. Great.”
“But?”
“But like… shouldn’t you be freaking out?” A knife waved in the air, as he talked. “I read up loads of stuff online to be all comforting and shit.”
Bucky turned, aware that his eyes were itching and he probably looked like he was about to cry. “You did what?”
“I read stuff.” Clint shrugged. “You’re the only dude I know who likes dudes. I figured I’d fuck it up.” He shot Bucky a quick look, one that people didn’t see often, that Clint was actually a fucking amazing person with a lot to give people, but damn he was so fucking insecure about messing up and people leaving him. “And you’ve gone and just been like, cool about it.” He paused. “Don’t know why I thought you’d be weird.”
Bucky put down the knife and turned, enveloping Clint into a hug. “I really appreciate that, man.” He said, “You can totally tell Tash you talked about feelings and that we hugged it out.”
“Whatever.” Clint said, hugging him back. “Now get the fuck off me, man. I gotta go punch a wall or something to feel like a man again.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky said, kissing him on the cheek loudly before pulling away.
“You hittin’ on me?” Clint said, winking and waggling his eyebrows at Bucky, who snorted a laugh.
“Yes.” He said, deadpan. “This whole thing was just so I could get into your pants.”
“I knew it!” Clint crowed, before reaching for the potatoes. “I’m a sex magnet.”
The pictures didn’t stop, although there hadn’t been any more random nudes, much to Bucky’s abject disappointment. More selfies though – and it wasn’t until he was mid-way through November that he realised the guy wasn’t the vainest person on the planet, but was taking pictures of his beard for Mo-vember. Turned out, Bucky quite liked beardy blond dude just as much as he liked him clean shaven, and not for the first time, kinda wished he knew who he was.
“I’ve had enough of this!” Natasha snapped, walking in one day to find Bucky sprawled on his bed, fully dressed, after another of Peirce’s little ‘missions’ that had him sleeping at the office for most of the week. “You are a fucking person, not a machine. Get another job. Now.”
“It’s not that easy.” He mumbled, just wishing she’d go away and let him sleep. He’d been re-working the entire layout of the docked containers, and although not a physical job, he was dead beat.
“Yes it is.” She snapped. “Update your damn resume and get the fuck out of there before you work yourself to death.”
Natasha was a great friend. She had her moments when Bucky wasn’t sure if he wanted to stab her in the gut, but he knew that when she paused him hard it was normally out of love. So when he finally woke up and found her and Clint sitting on his couch with paper scattered all over his nice tidy apartment, he didn’t automatically chew her out.
“Oh, sleeping beauty finally wakes.” She said, throwing him a look over her shoulder. “I printed off some sample resumes that you can copy when you update yours, and I’ve put together a list of all the little ‘missions’ that you’ve been doing for Pierce over the years, as well as your unpaid overtime.”
“Tash-” he started, bone weary, but she waved him off with a sharp glare.
“No. Shut up, man up, and leave.”
Clint, who was sitting with his laptop open and obviously just trawling through Bucky’s stuff, suddenly choked on air – before slamming the lid down with way too much force.
“Hey!” Bucky snapped, hauling the laptop away and checking the screen for cracks, “Don’t fucking break my shit.” A quick glance at the page that was open made him smirk. “Never seen a dick pic before, Barton?” He smirked, before minimising the page of his cloud storage. Before Clint could reply, Natasha snorted out a laugh.
“He sends enough of them.”
“Hey, those are private!”
“Oh, Jesus, pass the mind bleach.” Bucky begged. “There are some things I don’t ever, ever need know!”
“Yeah – well there are things I don’t need to know about-” Clint railed, and then stopped, completely dead, in the middle of his sentence. Both Bucky and Tash shot him a questioning look, only to be completely ignored. “I’ll tell you later.” He said, after a few moments, looking at Natasha, meaningfully.
Bucky rolled his eyes, “Gross.”
“Hmm.” The redhead said, eyebrow twitching at her boyfriend who was apparently trying to telepathically tell her something. After a few seconds though, she turned back to Bucky. “We’re still updating this tonight though.”
“James Barnes?” An older man in a neat suit said, holding out his hand, which Bucky took firmly.
“Mr Fury?”
“Ah, I’m afraid not,” The man said, smiling. “Phil Coulson. I’m replacing Director Fury.” He seemed nice, Bucky thought. “If you’ll just follow me,” He said, walking into the boardroom where a few other people were seated. “And we can get started?”
“They offered you the job?” Natasha said, as she appeared a few seconds after his interview was over. She’d been working for Shield Logistics for a few years, and had been the one who’d told him about the job that had opened up within the company. She was wearing a navy blue skirt and jacket, and sensible shoes – if Bucky hadn’t been expecting it, he would never have even recognised her.
“They said they’ll get back to me.” He said, noting that Maria Hill, one of the interviewers, gave Tash a friendly wave as she passed.
“Uh huh.” She grinned, looping her arm through his, “It’s yours. Coulson likes you, I can tell.” She gave him a once over and grinned wider. “You look like an old movie star in this suit. It’s nice. Shame to waste it.”
“It’s a suit.” He pointed out, rolling his eyes. “You hate suits.”
“I like this one.” She said, shortly, before grinning like a shark. “We should grab lunch.” She looked at her watch and grinned wider. “Well, look at that, it’s time for my break. We should go to Ivy and celebrate.”
“Tash, they didn’t say I’ve gotten the job.” Buck pointed out. “Seems a little pre-emptive to go out celebrating.”
“I’ve made up my mind.” She said, tugging on his arm, and Bucky knew he’d lost that battle long before it had started.
Ivy was a fairly nice restaurant, one of Bucky’s personal favourites, because the food was good but not too pretentious – something of a rarity in that part of New York. At this time of day it was a popular place for ‘work lunches’ which were just extended networking opportunities.
He should have known that something was wrong when they arrived and Natasha started looking around, peering over the heads of the seated diners. “Table for two?” The greeter asked, before someone waved at them from inside.
“Oh, look!” Natasha said, grinning like a shark. “Clint is here.” Before Bucky could say anything scathing like: Oh, really? She’d turned to the greeter. “We’ll just join our friends, if that is okay?”
As they walked over, Natasha shot him a look that was completely indecipherable. “I think Clint is here with the head of Stark Industries human resources.” She said, “They come here sometimes if there is an issue with Clint’s team.” Clint was the head of his own department at Stark Industries, testing the weapons that came through from Stark himself. Despite looking like a homeless bum 90% of the time, he actually made a shedload of money – not that you’d be able to tell from his wardrobe. Or his apartment.
“I don’t think we should interrupt then.” Bucky said, trying to pull back a little. “If he’s working.”
“Clint never works.” She said, “He gets paid to play with bows and arrows. And he called us over.” She pointed out.
“Buck!” Clint said, standing up and grinning. “Well done, man! Grats on the new job and all.”
“They didn’t say I’ve got it,” Bucky told him, shooting Tash a look. “I don’t even know yet.”
“Phil loved him.” Natasha said, cutting over Bucky’s protesting neatly. “Oh, you must be Steve.” She said, as the guy sitting with his back to the door turned around to look at them both.
“Bucky, this is Steve Rogers. Steve, meet Bucky.” He smirked. “Or do you guys already know one another?”
It wasn’t until the dude actually fully turned around that Bucky realised who he was.
Oh shit.
Steve Rogers looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole, and Bucky was pretty sure he looked like he was about to throw up, so it evened out a little. “Um, hey.” He managed after a silence that went on for too long, Clint and Tash looking at them both expectantly.
“You two know one another?” Natasha asked, sounding not half as surprised as she should.
“No.” Bucky managed, as Steve shook his head.
“Uh, you sure?” Clint said, looking between them both, questioningly. Of course Barton would have set this up after seeing Steve's nude on Bucky's computer. Shit, he probably thought they were banging without saying anything.
“Pretty sure.” Steve said, and god damn, he had a nice voice. He had a nice everything. Bucky was totally fucked. Royally screwed. He knew he had to break the ice somehow – break it in a way where he wasn’t gonna end up saying something stupid like “I totally jerk off to your nude that I should never have looked at”.
“Funny story.” He said, after too long, trying to smile and failing. “I think I get some of your pictures on my cloud storage. Technology, huh?”
Steve, who’d been looking at him like he wanted nothing more than to not be there, jerked back a little. “Uh, what?”
“Your phone, it, um, it sometimes backs up to my cloud storage.” Bucky said again, sending out desperate SOS vibes to Clint and Natasha who looked like they were in the fucking peanut gallery, watching them both expectantly. “I recognise you from your selfies – um, the beard thing?”
“You know what?” Clint said, suddenly. “I think I’ve just spontaneously remembered that Tash and I need to go and… do… stuff.” As Natasha kicked him.
“You should totally just eat what I ordered.” He said, and then they were both taking off, talking rapidly between themselves in low voices and leaving Bucky standing at the side of the table feeling like a fucking creep.
“You should probably sit.” Steve said, looking all blond and golden and every inch a god. The kind of god Bucky wanted to lick all over. “I, um, I think that I get some of your pictures too.” He said, as Bucky sat down. “Um.” He blushed hard, red working over his face and down his neck. Bucky wondered how far down it went. “Sorry if you got any… inappropriate… pictures.” He said, after a few seconds.
“Same.” Bucky managed, casting his mind back to when he’d posed with his hand on his dick way back… shit, had Steve got that picture? Had he got the ones Bucky had taken, copying that pose? He blushed hard, sending up a silent prayer that wasn’t the case. “I um, I kept the black and white ones, I thought you might want to get them back.” He said, after a while, because surely that was a safe topic, but the look of utter mortification on Steve’s face obviously said otherwise.
“Oh shit, you got those?” He said, covering his face with his hands before looking at Bucky beseechingly. “Look, my girlfriend thought I had really shit self-esteem, okay? She thought that pictures would give me more confidence, you know? I just… No one was supposed to see them.” He stammered. “It was just like… supposed to give me a boost, make me feel good about myself.”
“I think we’re talking about different pictures.” Buck said, after a second. “Like, really different pictures. I mean the black and white ones of the city.” He paused, and tried not to look too disappointed. “Uh, your girlfriend?”
“Ex. My ex-girlfriend.” Steve said, quickly. “We’ve broken up. I’m bisexual. Not that you need to know that… um.”
“Oh, thank god.” Bucky breathed, before blushing so hard he was pretty sure they could power Coney Island on the heat generating from his face. “I mean-”
“No, that’s okay!” Steve suddenly grinned. “Um, that’s good.” He paused. “We should start over.” He held out his hand and grinned. “Steve Rogers, pleased to finally meet you.”
“Bucky Barnes.” Bucky smiled, shaking Steve’s hand.
Later, when they’d lingered so long over lunch that it was in danger of becoming dinner and the waiting staff had reached the point where they just rolled their eyes as they walked past the two nerds gushing over books and art and good food, Bucky’s phone rang.
“Sorry.” He said, pulling it out of his pocket and seriously considering ignoring it until he recognised the number. “It’s the place I had my interview.” Steve waved his hand urging him to answer.
“Barnes.” He said, picking up.
“Ah, Mr Barnes, this is Phil Coulson from Shield.” The man on the other end of the line said. “We would be delighted to offer you the job, as discussed, if you would like it?”
“Yes, thank you,” Bucky said, grin threatening to split his head in half. Across from him on the other side of the table, Steve gave him a thumbs up. “That would be great. Obviously, I will have to work my notice with Hydra,” He reminded the other man, “But I could start at the end of the month.”
“Of course.” Coulson said, “We’ll email you the relevant forms and information. Welcome to Shield.”
Bucky was grinning madly when he hung up after saying the appropriate goodbyes. “I got the job.” He told Steve, who waved over the waitress.
“Seems like a cause to celebrate.” He said, “Let me buy you dinner.”
“How was the first year at Shield?” Natasha asked, lounging on Bucky’s couch. She was wearing the headset for the Xbox and was only half paying attention to Buckys answer - knew well enough that Bucky was loving his job. Pierce had been pissed when Bucky had announced he was leaving, and had tried everything to get him to stay – but the change between Hydra and Shield was like night and day. He’d never go back – not even for the very generous bonus Pierce had offered him.
“Yeah,” He said, grinning at the teasing text Steve was sending from his Saturday afternoon meeting. Although Shield was awesome, the best thing that happened to Bucky that year was Steve Rogers. The blond nerd had pretty much bought him dinner and then never left. He was dimly aware that Clint and Natasha thought they were sickeningly cute, and he had tried to cool things off a little when he realised that he’d spend no time at all with his friends – but Natasha had slapped him across the back of the head. Hard. “Do not sabotage the best thing you’ve ever had.” She warned him, before taking Clint off for a week in Hawaii.
Steve was bored at work. Stark was apparently a great guy to work for, but the Saturday afternoon meetings were pointless and Steve always complained, spending most of them texting Bucky. He might utterly suck at saying things in person, but Steve’s texts were the greatest. Dude was sexting master. Being bored at work really brought out the worst (or best, depending on where you stood) in him.
“You know work is good.” Bucky pointed out. “You hear me talk about it all the time.” He paused. “You see me every day.”
Her phone chimed and he managed to kill three guys on the screen at the same time she read her message.
“Meetings over.” She said, getting to her feet and throwing the controller on the couch. “Gonna head off and slip into something significantly less comfortable before Clint gets home.”
“TMI.”
“Whatever.” She smirked. “Try not to break the bed.”
“It happened one time!” He called after her, when he got a picture message from Steve.
Oh god damn.
God Bless America.