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*Sigh.
“If you sigh one more time, I’m tossing you out a window.” Bucky growled.
“The Tower windows don’t open.” Steve said, sighing again.
“I’ll open it by throwing you out of it.” Bucky ground his teeth and pinned Steve with his eyes from his corner of the couch. “Just go fucking talk to him. Why’s it gotta be this hard? You’re actin’ like a twelve year old girl.”
Steve sighed again, “That’s derogatory towards women. Twelve year old boys can pine too.” He adjusted his chin on his hand so he could stare accusingly at Bucky. The effect was ruined, however, by another wistful sigh.
That’s when Bucky had had enough and leapt across the couch to tackle him. Which was fine with Steve, he had some pent up energy too.
A few minutes and several pieces of broken furniture later they were interrupted by a loud whistle. To Steve’s complete embarrassment, Clint stood in the middle of the wreckage of the communal living room, his face split by a huge grin. “Oh man, I am so glad I had nothing to do with this. Pepper is gonna kill you both!”
Bucky pushed Steve off of him and onto his back, breaking the last standing leg of the coffee table in doing so. “Oh yeah, you had nothing to do with this… riiiight .” Bucky huffed as he dragged himself up, scowled at Clint and started to walk out. He stopped at the door though, turned to glare at Steve and said, “Remember what happened last time you waited too long?” Then he was gone.
Which was fair. But also a very - VERY - low blow.
“What did I do?” Clint grunted as he put out a hand to haul Steve to his feet.
Cheeks flushing red, Steve ducked his head in what Bucky always called his ‘Aw shucks ma’am’ way and replied, “Nothin.’ Don’t listen to him. Ever .”
Clint snorted. “I usually don’t.” They’d headed into the kitchen where Clint leapt up onto the counter, long legs swinging while he talked. “You think he needs to get out more? Maybe you should take him somewhere - like on a vacation.”
“What? Bucky? I don’t think more time with me will make him less cranky.” Chuckling, Steve pulled juice from the fridge. “Pretty sure that Bucky is headed to Stark to ask for his own apartment.”
Turning, he caught Clint’s stricken expression before the other man said, “Steve. I’m so sorry. I thought you guys were just messing around. I didn’t realize it was a real fight. Are you okay?” His eyes were filled with concern and his legs had stopped swinging.
Steve’s cheeks reddened again as he got a glass out of the cabinet, “We weren’t fighting. I was annoying him and he’d finally had enough.” Steve couldn’t blame him either. His pining had been an ongoing thing for months now. Really ever since before they’d gotten Bucky back but Steve had managed to keep a lid on it pretty tight until recently. Since figuring it out, Bucky had teased him mercilessly because he was an asshole of the first order…then it escalated when he tried to make Steve jealous and here they were.
The expression on Clint’s face was confusing him though. It was stern and sad and royally pissed off all at once. “Listen Steve, I’m not the poster child for healthy relationships or anything but I know that getting mad enough to destroy furniture because someone is annoying you is not a sign of a healthy relationship. That’s really toxic, actually. I’m not good at talking about feelings but if you want to talk -”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Steve rushed to reassure Clint lest they end up talking about his embarrassing crush. “We’ve always been like that,” the memory of their old apartment and how mouthy he’d been even when he was near dying during the winters made his laugh sound sad though it was just nostalgia. “Except now he doesn’t have to pull his punches because I’m not breakable anymore.” He smiled sadly at the memories and finished off his juice.
When he looked over at Clint, the other man was wearing a very complicated expression as he slid off the counter and stepped in close to Steve. He took the empty glass from Steve’s hand, setting it in the sink and taking both of Steve’s hands in his. Steve stopped breathing. Clint was so close that he could smell the wax Clint used on his bow and the coffee that he mainlined all day, every day.
“Steve, your boyfriend shouldn’t be hitting you. Not back in the 1940’s and not now. That’s not okay.” This close Steve could see the light stubble along Clint’s jawline, he wanted to nuzzle his cheek against it. “I know you’re a super soldier but it’s not about the physical abuse, it’s the emotional and mental abuse that comes with hitting,” his eyes were so blue, clear and expressive with crinkles at the corners. Right now there was a wrinkle between them that Steve wanted to kiss away. Why was Clint stressed out? “...it tears you down, degrades your sense of self. You deserve a partner that’s going to respect you and treat you with love.”
Shaking his head to knock the lovesick cobwebs out, Steve said, “Wait. What are we talking about? Did you just say my boyfriend ?” He dropped Clint’s hands and took a step back, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend! Why- what- I can’t- Is that what you thought all this time?!” Is that why Clint had pulled away when Bucky had come to live at the tower? Because he was giving them space ?
**** Clint, 8 months ago ****
There was a little bit of pizza sauce on Steve’s cheek. Clint wanted to thumb it off, actually he wanted to lick it off but not in a ‘let’s fuck’ kind of way. He wanted it to lead to kisses and snuggles and morning afters. But this was Steve Rogers - the epitome of old fashioned values. Captain America - the shining beacon of right and justice and all that jazz. Even if he was gay, or bisexual, he wouldn’t be interested in someone like Clint. In an ex-criminal, ex-carnie trash government spy who spilled coffee on himself regularly, who ate too much pizza and was the most forgettable Avenger. So he filed away the mental image of kissing Steve’s cheek clean with the hundreds of other times he’d pictured himself doing something like that.
“We should go do something stupid. I’m good at stupid.” He said, instead, grinning.
“You’re good at everything you want to be good at,” Steve rolled his eyes. “But ok. I’m in. Anytime you’re doing something stupid, I want to be there.”
And that’s how they ended up playing frisbee with Steve’s shield at the park with a rapidly growing crowd gathering around them. Steve would throw the shield and Clint would run up a bench or a statue and flip or spin in the air to catch it. Then, with barely even a moment of his feet touching the ground, Clint would throw it back, banking it off of two or three surfaces before Steve would leap or flip to catch it. When they were tired, they shook a lot of hands, signed a lot of autographs - well Steve did, without his bow, not many people even knew who Clint was. After extracting themselves from the crowd, Clint taught Steve how to lose a tail as they ducked around buildings and through parking garages to dodge the fans hoping to get more pics of Captain America.
It became their weekly routine. At least once a week, between call outs and missions, they’d go out into the city and try a new place to eat and then do something Stupid - with a Capitol S - although Stupid was a loose term applied to anything they wanted to do together. Once, Stupid was just dressing like tourists and going incognito to see the top of the Empire State Building. Once, it was playing baseball with a bunch of kids in a park and then buying them all ice cream. Another time, it was Steve dragging Clint to small modern art galleries all over town so he could guess the meaning behind the swirls and splatters. And then trying not to laugh when Clint insisted that all he saw were bullseyes.
And sometimes, Steve would look at Clint like he was the most important part of what they were doing. That it wasn’t the food or the Stupid - it was Clint. His chest would hurt and his stomach would fill with butterflies but he knew he had to be projecting so he would duck his head and say something to distract Steve from the giant heart Clint was wearing on his sleeve.
Without realizing it, one Stupid day, they’d walked right into the Pride parade. Clint had gotten nervous, he wasn’t sure how Steve’s old fashioned values would jive with such a major expression of queer love.
“It’s beautiful.” Steve said, staring around at the glitter and the bare skin and the couples holding hands, the floats with their rainbows of people and colors and expressions. It was overwhelming in the best way.
Clint looked at him with a bit of the same awe, “I thought you’d be offended. You come from a different time.”
Steve turned confused eyes at Clint, “I thought - um, well...” He shook his head and when he opened his eyes, he seemed far away, “No, I’m not offended. I…I think bisexual is the term for what I am.” Clint shook his own head to clear it, what? “I know what it’s like to love another man and be afraid of what the world’s reaction might be.” His gaze was clear, pointed, he was staring at Clint like they were totally alone instead of in a crowd of thousands. Clint held his breath - was this…could Steve be talking about him? “
Steve’s Avenger’s Alert went off at the same time as Clint’s, startling them both and the noise of the crowd rushed back in.
****Clint/Four Months Ago****
Steadying his legs, Clint shouldered his bow and looked down the ramp of the quinjet as it lowered. Cap was there, looking both stern and concerned. “Don’t worry, Cap, I brought him back in one piece.” He assured him.
If Steve’s hands on his hips were any indication, someone was about to be read the riot act. Clint sure hoped it wasn’t him. Not just because disappointing Steve felt like letting down the entire country but because he wasn’t sure how long his legs would hold his weight.
“Don’t be mad at me, Steve. Be mad at Barton.” Bucky shoved Steve’s hands off of him from where he’d rushed up the ramp to check Bucky over. “He jumped in front of me - twice! Pretty sure he’s hiding a few broken ribs and at least one knife wound.”
Clint turned to stare at Bucky open mouthed. “Traitor. After I saved your life! You rat me out to the only person who wants to drag me to Medical more often than Tasha? I thought we were becoming friends, Barnes.” He tried to side step when Steve reached out for him but his damn legs couldn’t hold his weight and still maintain balance after such a quick evasive maneuver. Clint went down like a sack of potatoes.
“Clint!” Steve cried out, catching him right before his head banged against the metal ramp.
“Don’t you fucking dare pick me up - dang it, Cap! I can walk on my own!” He struggled in Steve's arms and then groaned as his ribs protested. The jostling also tore the hastily applied bandages away from his knife wounds and he felt blood soaking his pants on each side before a small splat broke the moment of silence and they all looked down to the large blood drop as it was joined by a second and a third. Clint laughed nervously and then grumbled all the way to medical in Steve’s arms.
The grumbling was just for show, though, because after months of telling himself that he was over Steve, that he was glad Steve had gotten the love of his life back - being this close to Steve was like coming home from a long mission. He wanted to lean into it, press his forehead into Steve’s neck and breathe in the clean smell of him. To hold while being held. To beg Steve never to let him go again.
Which was, of course, when Steve placed him down on the bed in the emergency section of Medical and let him go. Clint’s heart ached more than his ribs or his stab wounds.
After Medical had patched him up - four badly bruised ribs, a total of thirty-seven stitches and a direct order to be on bed rest for two weeks and off duty for another four - Steve had wheeled him (they made him take an actual wheelchair!) down to his apartment where Steve asked why he’d done it. Jumped in front of Bucky.
“I saw how you looked at him when you got him back - I couldn’t stand it if you lost him again.” Clint shrugged, picking at some lint stuck in the Velcro of his tac pants pocket. He should probably shower and change, these pants had quite a lot of dried blood on them. He probably shouldn’t be sitting on the couch but that’s where Steve had pushed his chair so…
“I don’t want to lose you either, Clint.” Steve said it so earnestly that Clint’s head shot up. Steve was looking down at his hands though so Clint couldn’t tell what he was thinking about. Probably just trying to be a good team leader.
“Enh.” He shrugged. It’s not like it would be a huge loss for anyone other than Natasha and if he’d died doing something dumb, she might just be frustrated that she hadn’t gotten to lecture him about it before he’d died. Man, he was being pretty self deprecating tonight.
“Clint.” Oh damn, the Voice of Disappointment was here. “Bucky is a super soldier. He can take care of himself,” meaning Clint couldn’t. “He also heals stupid fast.” Meaning Clint would be even more useless since he couldn’t shoot anything for six weeks. “He should be jumping in front of you.”
And oh man, that hurt.
“Fuck you.”
“Um. What?”
Clint ground his teeth. It wasn’t bad enough that he was the weakest link, but now Steve wanted Bucky to shield him during battle? Just kick him off the team then. God - what the fuck was wrong with him? He felt like he might cry. His emotions were a swirling knot in the pit of his stomach. “I can take care of myself, Captain Rogers. I don’t need to be coddled. I don’t need special treatment. Just - get out please. I need a shower and a nap.”
Steve looked like he’d been slapped but Clint was too hurt to take it back. And it did hurt - to know that Steve thought he was weak. That he didn’t have confidence in him. Damn. It hurt so much. After Steve quietly left, Clint was tempted to walk to the bathroom but he didn’t want to give Steve more fuel by ripping open his fresh stitches. He very carefully moved back to the wheelchair and wheeled himself to the shower to give himself a sponge bath since he couldn’t take a proper one.
The sponge bath was like climbing a mountain. It was exhausting and dangerous and Clint almost fell out of the chair thirteen times. Afterwards he tugged on just his boxers and managed to get himself into bed, he was asleep within moments.
*
Light fingers brushing along his jaw woke him up. Clint knew without opening his eyes that it was Natasha. He curled into her warmth as best he could with his injuries and he finally let himself cry.
*
“I’m sorry for the interruption, Agent Barton, but Captain Rogers is at your door.” Jarvis informed him and sounded oddly smug about it.
Clint took a deep breath which was incredibly painful, he was fragile in more ways than one today. He put some thought into telling Jarvis to tell Steve to go away but he didn’t want to add coward to the list of things Steve apparently thought about him. “Let him in, J.” He said, pulling the blanket tighter against himself like it’s fluffy purple softness was enough armor to save him from Captain America. He muted Great British Bake Off but didn’t look at Steve as he rounded the couch. There was plenty of room for Steve at the end of the couch by Clint’s feet but he didn’t stop there, instead he walked all the way to where Clint was sitting and dropped down on his knees, bringing them to eye level.
He was close enough that Clint could smell the fresh soap smell of his shower. His cheeks reddened as the self consciousness settled in around him. He’d “showered” last night after he’d kicked Steve out but then he’d cried for hours with Nat so he felt worn out and gritty. And hungry, he realized, since he was making a list. He hadn’t eaten since before the mission yesterday.
“I’m sorry.” Steve started, meeting Clint’s eyes. “I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. I know what will and won’t kill me and since Bucky is the same, I was only a little worried about him. I always worry about you and Natasha when you go out.” Clint started to interrupt but Steve shushed him so he swallowed the bitterness, “Not because you’re weak, Clint. But because you have human bodies and neither of you is afraid of anything. You hold your own amongst gods and monsters and super soldiers - you are both fearless and incredibly dangerous. Nat values her own life so she doesn’t take unnecessary risks. You, on the other hand, are under some impression that you aren’t important so you throw yourself at and off of dangerous situations daily.”
Pausing for a moment, Steve brushed the hair off of Clint’s forehead. His solemn baby blues began to crinkle at the corners and he smiled, “You’re important to all of us. Important enough that Nat went AWOL off her mission last night, that Jarvis lectured me this morning and that I spent the entire morning pacing up and down the hallway outside of your apartment wondering how long I should let you sleep before apologizing. You’re important to me Clint -” Clint’s stomach let out a huge growl and they both burst into laughter.
Clint clutched at his ribs, holding in his laughter until it became small whimpers of pain.
“Let me guess - you haven’t taken any pain meds and you haven’t eaten.” Steve rolled his eyes and without waiting for an answer, he stood up and headed into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of painkillers as he went. “Omelet? Knowing you, it's been a while since you’ve had a vegetable that wasn’t on pizza.”
“Rude. True. But rude.” Clint let himself grin shakily, glad to be back on good ground with Steve.
They had omelets with whatever Steve found in the fridge, some ham, some cheese, tomatoes, bell peppers, asparagus. Whoever had stocked his fridge must have had a grudge against pizza delivery. Steve also made coffee. Clint unmuted GBBO and took his pills. With the combo of the pain meds, the full belly, the lack of sleep and the gentle circles that Steve was rubbing into his ankle, Clint was asleep before the first star baker was awarded.
The next two weeks was a revolving door of Steve, Bucky, Nat, Tony and even Bruce coming and going from his apartment to feed him, help him make it to the shower and change the dressing on his stab wounds. There was laughter, his bruised ribs didn’t like that part as much, and teasing, movie nights with everyone in attendance and a weird shift with him and Steve. Clint got the feeling that without Bucky, he might have stood a chance with Steve and even though he’d never have him, it felt nice to know and he wasn’t mad at Bucky. That man deserved to get the guy after all he’d been through.
***Steve/One month ago****
“Just admit that you have a crush on him and I’ll let it go.” Bucky insisted, his knee pressed between Steve’s shoulder blades with his arm twisted back into a hold that Steve could struggle against but until he stopped taking it easy on Bucky, he was never gonna get out of.
“I do not!” Steve growled, attempting to wrench his hand away and roll Bucky off at the same time. It didn’t work. If anything, Bucky’s hold got tighter.
“You’re lying. I’ve seen you look at him. Like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had. I’ve heard you sigh when he leaves the room! You like him, Stevie! Admit it.” Bucky was and always had been, a relentless asshole.
Giving in and allowing himself to slump in Bucky’s hold, Steve whispered, “I don’t like him, Buck - I love him. I’ve been in love with him since before we got you back.”
“Well. Shit.” Bucky said, releasing Steve and rolling to lay flat on his back on the mat with him. “Why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“I was . We had these weekly dates to eat somewhere different and see something new in the city. We watched movies together and I was flirting a lot - you’da been proud of me. Do you know they have a parade to celebrate gay pride - can you imagine that? All the hiding in back alleys that guys did back in the day, imagine what they musta thought the first time they saw a parade of gay people out and proud?” He’d leaned up on his elbows on the mat to stare down at Bucky and shook his head in disbelief.
Bucky smiled up at him. He was straight but he knew how hard the struggle had been for some guys, Steve included. “I’d like to see that. When’s that?”
“Middle of June every year. I told him I loved a guy and that I was bisexual and I was gearing up to admit that it was him…but…” his eye slanted away, remembering why they’d never finished their conversation.
“But I happened. That’s when you came to get me and you spent the next few months dealing with me being a basketcase,” Bucky let out a long breath.
“You needed me. Hell, I needed you too. There was nowhere else I’d have rather been. Clint just pulled away. Not selfishly. He’s never that. He’d give anyone the shirt right off his back. It was more like he was giving us space.” Steve slumped again, this time with his head on Bucky’s chest. “And then you guys had your first mission and we had that fight, but when we made up I tried to tell him how important he was to me but he didn’t get it. Not really.”
Bucky’s hand carded through Steve’s hair, gently squeezing the back of his neck. “Pal, I think you should just tell him. What's the worst that could happen?”
“Gee whiz, Bucky,” Steve snarked in an overly childishly innocent voice, “I don’t know - maybe a total break down of our team dynamics and one of my teammates thinking that I’m making inappropriate advances toward him.”
Before Bucky could retaliate by kicking his ass, the door opened and Clint stood staring at them. “Oh, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” His eyes flitted everywhere but on them and then he made a strangled sound and walked back out.
****Bucky/Last week****
The headline read “Not My Captain America.” Below a phtoto of Steve in jeans and a too tight white T-Shirt with the shield on it in bisexual flag colors. It was taken at a LGBTQ+ Rights rally in Central Park.
FoxNews was playing it once an hour, debating about the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy and it’s history, about whether Steve should be arrested for being gay back in the 1940s and how long the statue of limitations was on that. Then there were some truly unsavory comments about how a scrawny, sickly gay kid had “gotten to the top of the pile” to get the super soldier serum.
Bucky was angry. He raged around the tower, glowering at everyone and spent way too much time in the gym. To make matters worse, it felt like Clint was avoiding Steve again. And Steve’s lovesick mooning was driving him crazy. He needed his own apartment. It wasn’t healthy to be sharing an apartment together anymore. He thought about punching Steve in the face daily - at least once before every meal. Including snacks.
He’d just left the gym where he hadn’t burned off even half of his Republican induced rage when he came across Clint headed to the range. He made an about face and fell into step with him.
“Whatcha doin?” Clint sing-songed. Swinging his bow like a kid.
“Imma go shoot some shit. Want to see who’s better at it?” He caught Clint’s eye and then both took off running at the same time. Flying down the hallway, around the corner, down a flight of stairs and finally crashing into the double doors to spill into the range together.
They started with the rifle. After thirty minutes and a lot of ammo, they called it a draw. They moved onto their handguns, same thing. A draw after thirty minutes. Bucky had never shot a bow though so he was not great. He broke the first bow by drawing it too hard. After a quick lesson on the basics, he got the hang of it and hit the target with his first twenty shots. They were nowhere near the bullseye but it was at least on the board. Clint landed a bullseye every time. Show off.
They continued for thirty minutes. Bucky managed to hit the bullseye roughly one out of every five times. He nearly broke the bow over his knee in frustration at one point but Clint rescued it and delivered a lecture on respecting weapons instead.
When they were putting away their weapons, Bucky let out a huge sigh. Clint looked up, “Feel better now?”
“Yeah. Actually. I do. I see why you like the bow. It feels different to shoot it.” He ran his hand down the side of the practice bow before putting it back in its spot on the wall. “It’s …calming.”
Clint grunted in response, putting his bow back in its case.
“All these people attacking Steve are really pissing me off.” Bucky admitted.
“I noticed.” Clint made a face as he held up the broken practice bow that Bucky had snapped in two. Bucky had the decency to look sheepish as he watched Clint throw it away.
“So, Barton. We don’t actually talk much without Steve around but this was pretty fun. We should do this again sometime.” He sidled up a little too close to Clint. “Wanna go get a beer?”
Blinking but not seeing a catch anywhere, Clint shrugged, “Sure.”
They played darts and drank way too many beers at a dive bar that Clint liked. When some roided out macho man challenged them to a game they both cackled and accepted. His friend was just as beefed up so they played teams. Without even discussing it, Clint and Bucky lost the first match on purpose and then both put $20 bucks on the second where they wiped the floor with the beefcakes.
Jess, who was the driest, rudest bartender of all time, walked over to collect empties, rolled her eyes and said, “Who challenges HAWKEYE and the WINTER SOLDIER to a game of darts?! Why don’t you just offer to arm wrestle Thor?! Idiots.”
“Hey!” One of the gym rats said, taking a better look at Clint and Bucky.
Clint dissolved into a fit of giggles, catching Bucky around the waist as he started to tumble. Clint was drunker than he’d thought.
“Oh - is it catching? Captain America is gay and now you’ve all got it?” The meathead taunted.
Later, when Steve asked them the details, they’d say they couldn’t remember who started it but it was definitely Clint. He straightened up to his full 6’3 height, squared his impressive shoulders and punched the meathead right in the mouth. Bucky followed up by catching the man’s leg with his own and pushing him so he tumbled backward into his friend. They both went sprawling into a table of men and women. The women screamed and the men started throwing punches.
Luke, the bar owner, grabbed both Bucky and Clint and shoved them toward the back door. “Get out before someone gets video. Dumbasses. Good seeing you Clint!” And he slammed the door in their shocked faces.
They were still giggling when they stumbled into Steve in the kitchen later.
“Steve - why didn’t you tell me that Bucky was so much fun?” Clint asked accusingly, still half drunk and grinning like a loon.
“Because he’s not. What did you do to him?” Steve huffed.
“I’m fun!” Bucky growled.
“Fun is not one of the top ten words I would use to describe you. Probably not even the top twenty.” Steve rolled his eyes and then splayed his fingers out to count on them, “Cranky, snarky, testy-“
“You want to talk about who’s not fun? What happened to you? You used to get us into all kinds of trouble! Now you’re too busy being a beacon of hope or a shining example of the American Way of Life.” He was yelling but dagnabbit, it was time for them to have a Fight. Everything Steve did - especially not telling Clint how he felt - was pissing Bucky off.
“Are you calling me a stick in the mud? ME?? That’s rich! I can’t even leave a cup on the counter for 30 seconds before you’re shouting about putting it in the dishwasher and God forbid I leave my shoes on when I walk on the carpet!” Steve yelled, pointing at the communal area floor like they were in their own apartment.
“Clint - who do you - Clint?” Bucky looked around but the archer was gone. “Look what you did. You scared him away. You’re lucky I’m not attracted to guys or I’d steal him away just to prove that you need to stop waiting so damn long to tell people how you feel.”
Steve went white as a sheet. “You wouldn’t.”
Bucky stepped in close and smiled a Cheshire smile, “You sure about that, Cap?” The p made a popping noise as he pushed it out forcefully.
Then he saluted and headed out.
****Clint/Two Days Ago****
Steve and Bucky were both acting strange. After their yelling match in the kitchen last week, they’d been hanging around with him a lot. Alone they were fine, fun even, but together, well, Bucky became almost predatory and Steve just looked nauseous the entire time.
“What gives?” He finally asked.
They were watching a movie. Bucky had been on a call out all day. While he was gone, Steve had suggested they watch all of the Star Wars movies in release order. Halfway through Jedi, Bucky had come home, showered and changed into sweats - he had not put a shirt on - and then plopped down on the couch a little closer than necessary to Clint. Clint was sitting criss-cross in the middle of the couch because he was still a bendy circus brat and he and Steve were sharing a bowl of popcorn.
He swallowed tightly but didn’t shift away because then he’d be in Steve’s lap. Instead, he grabbed his beer off the table to distract himself.
A few minutes later, Bucky laughed at something Han said - which was so on brand - and when he adjusted, his hand was resting on Clint’s upturned knee.
And that was…strange.
Unfolding himself, Clint stood up, “What gives?” They looked at each other and then back at Clint. Bucky looked like he stole a canary right outta its cage and Steve looked like he was gonna be sick. “Ok. Fine. You’re both grounded from me until you can use your words.”
****Now/Clint****
“How long?” Steve demanded. Searching Clint’s face for context clues.
“How long what?” Clint asked, completely confused.
“How long have you thought that Bucky Barnes was my boyfriend?” He slowed the words down, not because Clint couldn’t understand them but because he was grinding his teeth in between them.
“You said at the parade that you were bisexual. That you’d loved a man and knew what it was like to have to hide that from the world.” And oh damn had that hurt. Like an idiot Clint thought Steve had meant him then a few hours later he’d watched as Steve lit up like a beacon at the sight of Bucky Barnes. Aww, broken heart, no.
Steve closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath for a moment then he took a step toward Clint, intent in his every move. So much intent that Clint backed up for every step that Steve took until the counter came into contact with his lower back. When Steve took one more step, Clint let out a small squeak and Clint knew he must look like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide and his body debating on whether to take flight or freeze.
Steve's nose was almost touching his, they shared breath so close that Clint stupidly thought he was about to get kissed. Steve’s hands found their way to his hips and he lifted Clint back onto the counter, crowding his way between Clint’s spread knees. They were unnecessarily close. Clint felt like he was strung as tight as his bowstring. Tensed and waiting…wanting.
Being up in the counter put Clint several inches above Steve so Steve had to tilt his head back to look up at him, “Bucky Barnes is my brother and has been since we were barely old enough to stand and pee.” He grabbed the front of Clint’s shirt and tugged him down, rubbing their cheeks together, nuzzling into Clint’s beard stubble with a soft moan. “I’m not now, nor will I ever be, attracted to him.” He pulled back to look Clint in the eye, “I was talking about you, Clint. I love you . And I have for a long time. Is-“
Steve was taking far too long with his declaration. He’d already kept Clint waiting for eight months so Clint took matters into his own hands - er, mouth actually. He surged forward, planting his lips on Steve’s, and wrapping his arms around Steve's neck to pull him closer. Their breath was hot where it mingled and the slide of their tongues against each other had them both leaning into it. Clint buried his fingers in the short hair on the back of Steve’s neck and used it to turn his head to give himself better access.
When Steve’s hands slid around his hips to cup his ass, Clint squeaked against Steve’s mouth and then groaned desperately. Clint’s hand that wasn’t in Steve hair fumbled with the hem of his shirt until he got his hand under it on the side and squeezed Steve’s hot skin along his ribcage as he delved his tongue back into Steve’s mouth.
Using the hands cupped on Clint’s ass, Steve dragged him to the edge of the counter, slotting himself at the apex of Clint’s open thighs. It was intense and messy and when they both moaned into a kiss, they laughed into each other’s mouths and Steve nipped at Clint’s kiss ravaged lips.
“You won.” Came Natasha’s voice from the doorway and when Clint looked over she was passing a twenty dollar bill over to Bucky. Who was looking smug - very smug.
“I may have given them a nudge. I came onto Clint to make Steve jealous and to make Clint nervous.” His grin turned into a scowl, “I was getting real tired of Steve’s lovesick sighing.”
Walking - stalking really - across the kitchen, Natasha smiled slowly and put out her hand. Clint rolled his eyes and pulled a twenty out of his pocket to put in her open palm.
One of Steve’s eyebrows arched in question.
“Clint thought you guys were acting weird because Bucky wanted a threesome and you didn’t.” She stuffed the cash in her pocket and walked out.
Steve turned shocked eyes to Clint and mouthed, “a threesome?”
Bucky looked like he wanted to say something but clamped his mouth shut and followed the way that Nat had gone.