Work Text:
It starts, as so many things in Clint’s life do, as a joke. Ideas sometimes come to him in flashes of inspiration and he only finds out later whether they’re actually a good idea. And today, the flash of inspiration comes as he’s watching a YouTube review of a movie he saw two days ago and the guy hosting it says “and I’ve finally given in and created a new YouTube channel, ArmDown, to talk about health, wellness and all that stuff. I’ve posted a couple of workout videos and a discussion I had with my friend, who’s also a veteran, about mental health, and basically dealing with the shit life gives you. I don’t know why you wanna hear me talk about it, but apparently you do. Also check out my patreon, and don’t forget to make offerings to the YouTube gods by liking, subscribing and commenting below. As always, I’m still Bucky Barnes. You’re still awesome. Take care of yourselves and I’ll see you next week.”
Clint is a simple man, his thought process is pretty simple, too. He sees a pretty man say ‘workout video’ and he clicks on the link.
He’s totally intending to do the workout...
...and not just watch the guy’s thighs as he does squats.
Barnes is saying something about balance being difficult when you’re missing an arm, but Clint scoffs at that, because the man is Rock Solid. Those thighs don’t wobble a millimetre. They’re pure, solid muscle, their definition clear through the tight yoga pants Bucky’s wearing, and whoever set up the camera must love Clint because they are right in the centre of the screen, directly in focus.
So he takes a few screenshots. And maybe a clip. Or two.
And he scrolls through the comments just to check that other people have noticed, because seriously, someone needs to be talking about those thighs.
The comments are thirsty. Clint can’t blame them, and one of them sticks in his head and he can’t quite shake it off.
“Kate”, he calls, over to where she’s watching his TV and playing with his dog. She looks up. “You’re like, young and stuff. Do you know how to set up a Tumblr?” Kate stares at him.
“Why?”
Clint looks down at the screenshot of Bucky’s thighs currently on his screen.
“For the greater good?” he suggests.
And that’s how thighlydangerous.tumblr.com comes into existence.
Clint tries to keep it… classy? Ish? He doesn’t provide any captions that go too far, he doesn’t think, and he’s pretty sure he can’t actually be sued for any of this. The videos are out there on the internet for all to see. He’s not broadcasting anything private.
Apparently he is not the only one who thinks that Bucky Barnes’ thighs need more appreciation, because he starts getting requests for specific clips and shots. He posts other pictures - of Barnes’ face and sometimes his abs, because he does appreciate the whole package, but it’s mostly about the thighs. And his followers agree.
Almost guiltily he signs up for Bucky’s Patreon, but he never posts anything from the patrons only workout videos or streams. That would feel like an abuse of trust.
Then one day he’s watching Bucky going through a yoga routine that his friend had apparently recommended, and as he pauses for a second, Bucky takes a drink of water then turns to the camera and winks before saying.
“And this is for the people over at ThighlyDangerous,” he says. “You should get some good shots out of this.”
Clint has to rewind the video to get them, because he’s too busy being surprised at first. But Bucky’s right. They are very good shots.
He actually comments on that video, anonymously as ThighlyDangerous, with just a 'Thanks!' and a winky face. Bucky likes his comment.
“It if wasn’t so weird, this would be kind of cute,” Kate opines over his shoulder as Clint looks at the YouTube notification. ArmDown liked your comment.
“It’s not weird,” Clint says. “It’s art.”
“It’s weird, now get off your ass, old man. We have to record in like five minutes.”
Hawkeye and Hawkeye Unlimited is technically a publicity channel for their circus skills classes. Technically. It’s got a bit… out of control.
They’re not like influencers or anything. Clint hopes he doesn’t influence anyone, except to come take a circus skills class or two. But they have sponsors and their videos are monetised and sometimes fans send him pictures they’ve drawn of him, Lucky and Kate doing particularly weird and wonderful things.
He really likes the one where Lucky is riding a unicycle. He got it framed and it hangs on the wall. Sometimes he catches Lucky looking at it in utter confusion. It’s beautiful.
Mostly their channel is showing off things they can do. Once he posted an entire trapeze routine choreographed to a remix one of Katie’s friends did of the Dog Cops theme tune and he still gets comments on it. It feels strange to be using these skills again - to have an audience again, albeit one he can't see - but it feels good. Life is pretty good.
*
“Alright, you have to see this,” Sam says, and holds out his phone. Bucky doesn’t look up. He’s trying to work out the script for his next movie review and he’s not sure if he should be going quite this hard. His viewers seem to like it when he’s pretty brutal, but he wants to make sure the film actually deserves it.
“Fine,” Sam says after Bucky ignores him for a few more seconds. “I’ll send it to you.” Bucky grunts agreement and a few seconds later feels the buzz against his leg that means a message has come through.
He doesn’t get around to watching the video until later. He has to record the review - which takes three times as long because Alpine wants to help, although that will definitely be good for likes and comments - and then he does another workout video with Steve, and by the time all of that’s done he’s pretty much forgotten that Sam sent him anything. But he flicks through his messages as he’s cooking and comes to the video Sam sent earlier.
The first thing he sees is a guy wearing a sleeveless shirt and a smile doing a backwards somersault then flipping onto his hands. Bucky’s so distracted by the strain of his biceps that he doesn’t even notice the dog leaping between his spread legs until it’s already landed.
It’s a two minute video as the man and the dog spin and somersault and flip over and under each other, and Bucky can barely look away. He knows that Sam probably didn’t expect Bucky would like it for quite the reason he does.
He presses replay, and watches it all over again, right up until the end where the man trips over the dog, falls into a forwards roll, and then the dog climbs on top of him, licking his face enthusiastically.
The peas have boiled over by the time he looks away.
“Shit.”
After dinner he watches every video he can find from Hawkeye & Hawkeye Unlimited, and he definitely hits subscribe.
*
It’s the fan Tumblr that gives him the idea. Steve is always giving him a hard time about the fact that someone out there is posting pictures of Bucky’s thighs with captions like ‘10/10 would be strangled by’ and ‘Never miss leg day’. Bucky had thought it was a bit strange at first, but it’s weirdly flattering. He knows that his body’s good, but he’s never felt as comfortable in it since his arm got blown off. Somehow, knowing that there are people out there who want to see pictures of his thighs on a daily basis is kind of flattering.
So he makes his own. He calls it may-cause-lethal-arm and he grabs a picture of Clint Barton - co-owner of Hawkeye & Hawkeye Unlimited - upside down on the rings, arms extended perfectly straight to the sides, body perfectly vertical, where every single muscle in his arms stands out with perfect definition, glistening with sweat.
And he posts it.
*
“What’s this ‘may-cause-lethal-arm’ thing people keep talking about in the comments?” Clint asks as they’re prepping for their next session.
Kate looks up at him with a wicked smirk on her face.
“You know that saying ‘what goes around comes around?’” she asks.
“Yeah…”
“Well it’s come around. Click the link.”
“Am I about to get a virus? Or is this going to link to Rick Astley again?” Clint asks suspiciously. "Because if it does, I'm definitely gonna give you up."
“Clint,” Kate puts a hand on his shoulder. “Just click the link.”
He clicks the link.
He stares. He blinks. It’s still a picture of him lifting Lucky over his head, then a close up of the swell of his right bicep. It’s from their latest video. He knows that, but what is it doing on Tumblr?
It has 700 likes. And it was only posted an hour ago.
He scrolls down. More pictures of him. More pictures of his arms. Every now and then a comment.
Clint hits the like button on a picture of him doing a handstand while Lucky had been trying to work out what he was doing, sniffing around him and blocking him from the camera. The caption below says “Thwarted by a dog. The struggle is real.”
*
Bucky doesn’t usually pay a lot of attention to the likes on the may-cause-lethal-arm Tumblr, just scrolls through his activity to find the comments and asks, and he almost scrolls straight past it, except the username catches his eye.
Thighly-dangerous liked your post.
“What the fuck?”
*
Clint Barton has a message from his own thirst Tumblr - that is the thirst Tumblr that’s about him, not the thirst Tumblr he runs. It's probably not a good thing that he has to specify. But at least he hasn’t quite got to the stage of sending himself messages yet. He panics.
Until Kate sits him down and points out to him that if he liked a post, then obviously may-cause-lethal-arm, whoever they were, would see that he had liked it, and as he only had one Tumblr, that would be the name that appeared. Which meant that first, this was entirely his own fault, and second, they didn’t know it was him. It was just one thirst blog on Tumblr messaging another thirst blog on Tumblr. No big deal. Totally normal behaviour.
“It feels weird,” he says. Kate has no sympathy as she stands over him.
“Just read the damn message, Barton.”
He reads the message.
“Thanks,” he says out loud. “Weirdly you’re kind of the reason I started this. Seemed like it might be fun.”
“I told you it wouldn’t be weird,” Kate says.
“You said it might be weird,” Clint reminds her. “You said that the odds of a Tumblr ask being weird were almost 100% and that it was a toss up between someone trying to get me to watch their naked videos, ask me my position on something controversial, or a nazi telling me to kill myself. That’s what you said.”
“And then I said it probably wasn’t, because there’s no way someone who thinks posting pictures of you on the regular is classy enough to be a porn bot, and they don’t seem like a nazi.”
“It is a bit weird that I inspired some random person to start their own thirst blog and it just happened to be of me,” Clint points out. “I mean, we have followers, but we don’t have that many subscribers.”
“What are you going to reply?” Kate asks.
“Do I tell them I’m me?” Clint says. He wipes a hand over his face. Things are starting to get weirdly complicated.
“I mean, they could be a creepy stalker.”
“I don’t think I have a stalker, Kate.” Clint makes a face.
“They have an entire blog dedicated to your arms.”
“I have an entire blog dedicated to Bucky Barnes’ thighs. That doesn’t mean I’m stalking him.” Kate’s eyebrows rise slowly towards her hairline. Clint narrows his eyes “I’m not stalking him.”
“Whatever, just reply so I can go meet up with America,” she says.
“You could just go, you don’t actually have to-”
“Reply!” Kate demands, crossing her arms and glaring down at him.
‘That’s flattering. So you’re a fan of H&HU?’
“Of course they’re a…” Kate throws up her hands in exasperation “I give up.”
She storms out of the apartment, and Clint looks over at Lucky, who cocks his head to one side and whines.
“Yeah, me neither, buddy,” Clint agrees.
*
Bucky hadn’t intended to end up friends with thighly-dangerous. Honestly, sending that first message had been more of a joke than anything.
“You’re catfishing him,” Sam says, eating Bucky’s popcorn. Everyone’s around to watch a classic movie for Bucky’s biweekly retro review segment. No one ever takes it seriously, though. This week it’s The Third Man. Luckily Bucky’s already seen it a dozen times or more so it doesn’t really matter that Natasha and Sam have been talking all the way through it. Steve, as usual, has been glued to the screen, completely oblivious to everything going on around him.
“I’m not catfishing anyone.”
“You are talking to a stranger online without telling them an important truth about yourself that would affect the nature of your relationship,” Natasha says. “Sam is right. You are catfishing him.”
“That’s not the definition of catfishing,” Bucky protests. He pulls out his phone and searches for it. “Using a fake identity online to trick someone into an emotional, romantic or financial relationship”
“You’re going to tell us you’re not in an emotional relationship with him?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. “Because Steve said you were up half of the night chatting with him.”
“Or are you trying to tell us that you’re not using a fake identity?” Natasha asks.
“I’ve never said I’m not Bucky Barnes,” Bucky protests.
“Lies of omission are still lies,” Steve adds, not looking away from the screen. Bucky glares at him.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side,” Steve tells him. “Sometimes you’re not on your own side. Shhh.”
“You’re catfishing,” Sam says. “Now tell that guy who you are or stop talking to him. Those are your two options.”
“I don’t know why I invite you around any more,” Bucky tells him.
“Because I lend this sorry little apartment of yours some class, and we all know it.”
“That’s Natasha’s job,” Bucky says, and she smiles. “You’re just here because Steve pouts if you’re not invited.”
“Because I am the life of this damn party. Now go tell your boyfriend your secret identity so he can drool over your thighs in person rather than just online.”
“But not when we’re here,” Steve says.
“I second that,” Natasha agrees.
“You know I invited you, right?” Bucky tells them all. “I can throw you out.”
“I like how you think that would stop me,” Natasha tells him.
“Shut up and watch the movie. This is my job, guys.”
*
‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
No good conversation every starts with that.
“He’s a serial killer,” Kate says immediately.
“He’s married,” Clint counters.
“Serial killer’s worse.”
Clint types out his reply.
‘Am I going to need a drink for this?’
The response from may-cause-lethal-arm comes back almost immediately, like he was waiting for Clint’s reply.
‘Maybe?’
“Helpful,” Kate says, propping her chin on Clint’s shoulder.
The next message takes a second longer and for a moment Clint doesn’t know what he’s looking at because may-cause-lethal-arm has sent him a picture of Bucky Barnes, although it’s not a picture Clint’s seen before. The background is different from any of the other pictures and he doesn’t look as carefully styled. His hair’s a bit rough and he’s in a baggy hoodie smiling a little awkwardly at the camera. It looks like a selfie.
“Holy shit,” Kate says.
‘Where did you get that pic?’ Clint asks.
“Either he’s catfishing you, or he took it, you doofus,” Kate says, pushing at Clint’s shoulder. “Tell him to write something on a piece of paper and hold it up to the camera.”
“What?” Clint turns to look at her, then down at his phone again where it says ‘may-cause-lethal-arm is typing…’ and there’s a selfie of Bucky Barnes looking back at him. A selfie. That Clint hasn’t seen before. “Holy shit.”
‘I took it. Just now. Hi.’
“Write something on a piece of paper,” Kate says, prodding Clint again. “Tell him to do it.”
‘My friend says I should get you to write something on a piece of paper and take a picture with it,’ Clint tells him.
“I didn’t mean…” Kate huffs out, her breath sending her hair flying and she groans with exaggerated loudness. “You’re so bad at this.”
“You know you don’t have to be here, right?” Clint reminds her. “You have your own home.”
“If I weren’t here you’d be even more useless than you already are.”
There is a ding as a new message comes through.
The picture shows Bucky Barnes holding up a piece of paper with the words ‘something on a piece of paper and take a picture with it’ written on it and a slight smirk on his face.
“Holy shit,” Kate says. Clint echoing her a second later. “You thirst trapped the guy you thirst posted about. HOLY SHIT. AND… and… wait…”
“His blog’s about me,” Clint says. “Oh… I should…” He looks around, but there is no paper anywhere near him. But… he gets up and heads for the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Kate asks. “You have to message him back. You have to tell him that you’re you and you want to do disgusting things to him that I never want to hear about and then you can finally go on a date and I won’t have to hang out around here all the time to keep you company.”
Clint ignores her and finds the multicoloured letters on the fridge, arranging them.
“Hi… Bucky… I’m… Clint…” Kate reads. “Really?”
Clint reaches out to take a selfie, trying to get himself in it and also the words and… it’s okay. His chin is cut out, but it’s clear enough.
He hits send before he can back out.
“This is insane,” Kate says. “This is madness. How did this even happen?”
There is another ding from his phone and they both hurry to look at it.
‘Very funny.’
“He doesn’t believe me,” Clint says.
‘Not a joke,’ he types. ‘How would you like me to prove it?’
‘Seriously?’
‘Send a video where you recite… I don’t know… The Jabberwock or something.’
“What’s the Jabberwock?” Clint asks Kate.
“It’s a poem from Alice in Wonderland,” she tells him. “I’m just searching for it.”
*
“Uh… Hi Bucky. Twas brillig… these aren’t words, Kate.” Bucky stares as Clint Barton looks off camera with a scowl.
“It’s a nonsense poem; just keep reading.” The voice of Kate Bishop, the other Hawkeye, says off camera.
“Fine. twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and… gimble? In the wave… wabe. All mimsy were the borgolo.. Borro… borrow groves? And the… momewraths out… grabe? Is that okay?” Bucky watches Clint push a hand through his hair, messing it up even further, and the video cuts out.
He plays it again, just to make sure that actually happened.
And then he realises that Clint Barton has actually seen his posts about Clint Barton’s arms.
And then he realises that Clint Barton, whose arms Bucky would really like to see up close and personal, has an entire blog dedicated to Bucky’s thighs.
‘We should meet up,’ Bucky sends back before he can talk himself out of it.
*
“…So I guess what I’m trying to say is if you want to pay twelve dollars to sit in a darkened room and experience two hours of homophobia, racism and misogyny while having your eyeballs assaulted by some of the worst cinematography you’ve ever experienced, then I can’t recommend the movie highly enough. Although, I’ll admit the soundtrack is pretty good. It’s just a pity they had to ruin it by talking over it.” Bucky is saying. He’s doing a live Q&A in the small backroom they have set up as a studio, his subscribers sending questions over the chat.
“Hey, Buck!” Clint calls from the other room. “Where did you put Lucky’s collar?”
Bucky’s about to call back, then remembers he’s streaming, not recording.
“Uh, sorry guys,” he says. “That’s my boyfriend, I should-”
Clint pushes open the door.
“Lucky needs a walk and his collar isn’t where I left it.”
“I hung it up,” Bucky says. “...on the hook? ...by the door? Where it’s supposed to go?”
“Oh, cool. Thanks!” Clint leans down and kisses his cheek, then looks up at the camera. “Oh shit, you’re recording. I forgot.”
“I’m streaming,” Bucky says and watches that filter through his boyfriend’s thoughts.
“Oops?” Clint offers, then waves at the camera. “Hi guys.”
There must be some overlap in his subscribers and Clint’s, because he can see a number of ‘Is that Hawkeye 👀👀💜?!?’s in the chat.
“So,” Bucky says with a sigh as Clint tries to make a smooth exit and almost headbutts the door. “Any more questions?”
The chat turns into a blur.