Chapter Text

"Alright, alright, alright. How about this? I jump on the back of the giant slime worm thingy from where I am right now and hope for the best? I've always wanted to be in the rodeo"

"Absolutely not, Hawkeye" Steve’s voice comes through the comms, clearly expressing his exasperation. "I told Coulson that we’d try to keep you in one piece"

“When do we ever keep Hawkeye in one piece?” floats through the group line as Iron Man flies through, nothing more than a blue streak left behind on the Manhattan skyline. “When does he ever keep himself in one piece for that matter?”

“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Tony. I can totally see what Steve sees in you. It’s your incredible sense of humour and warped sense of responsibility” Clint spits back sarcastically as he steps up to the ledge surrounding the roof top which he had been calling home for the majority of the battle. The concrete sturdy beneath his boots as he draws back his bowstring.

“You know what would make this easier?” he asks whilst releasing the arrow. “More people! Why the hell are there only three of us here?”

“Everyone else is out on missions” Steve replies, grunting as he bashes back a group of slug monsters.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure Sam is just visiting his grandma” Tony remarks, “do you think we could convince him to ditch Granny Falcon and come join the party?”

“I would hardly call this a party, Tony.”

“Touché, Cap”

Sirens blare around the block as more slug monsters roll their way towards the police blockade, vibrant green trails of slime glistening in their wake. Pay phones lie on their sides, wires protruding from the base of their pole sparking sporadically. 

“Can these things climb?” Clint yells down the comm line, warily eyeing the group of slug monsters at the base of the building he is situated on. Suddenly, one of the creatures latches onto the wall and begins to slither up the brick exterior. “Never mind! I know the answer!”

The stream of arrows he releases does nothing to stop the onslaught of slugs that inch their way slowly up the wall.

“Aww, arrows no” Clint sighs as he reaches into his quiver for another arrow, only to find it empty. “Guys I’m out of arrows”

“Well then haul ass and get out of there! What are you standing around for?” Steve yells.

Sure Cap, I’ll just take the stairs down to the ground floor. Oh wait! No can do, sorry! Clint grouches as he weighs up his options.

Option one: wade through the growing collection of giant slugs to the doorway, avoiding touching them because, of course, they’re poisonous (why wouldn’t they be?), run down fourteen flights of stairs, fight his way through the street only to not be let through the police blockade. Yeah, no thanks.

 Option two: wait for Tony to swing back round and grab a lift of him. And give him the bragging rights? Clint crosses that one off of his list after deciding that another week of wearing the ‘I heart Iron Man’ shirt Tony had specially made for gloating about his suit wasn’t worth getting a lift over.

Option three: A little bit of parkour. It wouldn’t be too hard. 

‘Daredevil does it all the time and he’s blind’ Clint rationalizes in his head.

Throwing himself from the ledge, he puts his arms out, ready to grab the street light in front of him and swing himself onto the other roof. That was his plan, at least.

When do things ever go according to plan when Hawkeye is involved?

In his defence, lots of people fall over when they’re hit by a shock that strong. 

He’d certainly done it before, Madrid for example when he had got away with only a mild concussion and a firm reprimanding from Steve and Tony, before being sent to sit in the common room and ‘think about what could have been done to prevent this from happening’ – Tony voted that they should get him a crash helmet to go with his uniform. 

However, a bomb going of the moment he throws himself through the air at a street light? Things like that cause a lot more than just a mild concussion.

After being thrown through the air into a neighbouring building, he had come away lightly, all things considered.

Three broken ribs, two cracked, a broken leg and a severe concussion. And a nice layer of lime green goo to top it off. 

“It could have been worse really” Clint says, reclining on the mountain of pillows on his bed.

“How so?” Bucky questions, raising one eyebrow and smirking when Clint unsuccessfully tries to remove his feet from the edge of his bed.

“Well, I could be dead for starters” 

“You might still be, you should have seen Steve when they brought you in. I don’t know if it was anger or what but I’ve never seen that man as red in the face in all of the years that I’ve known him.”

“I thought you 40’s boys blushed all the time. You know seeing a woman’s knees can be really sensual. Or so I’ve been told”

“Don’t be a wise ass Barton” Bucky states before climbing to his feet.

“You’re leaving?” Clint asks. “You turn up unannounced at one in the morning and then don’t tell me that you’re leaving? How rude. Can’t you see that I’m dying here?”

Removing the panel in the ceiling to the air ducts, Bucky looks at him, “if you were actually dying, you wouldn’t be mouthing off to me. In fact, you would probably be begging me to bring you a pizza from the disgusting place you like round the corner.”

“You make a good point Barnes.”

“Thank you so much Barton. Your approval means a lot to me” Bucky states, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“However, the pizza place is amazing. That is not questionable.”

“Aren’t all things that you’re involved with questionable?”

“Ooo, sass from the man who could claim a free bus pass”

“Why on earth would I need to take the bus?” Bucky questions, staring at Clint with his piercing blue eyes.

“I don’t know, to go places.” Clint states, suddenly feeling stupid under the weight of Bucky’s gaze.

 Bucky breaks into a grin, shaking his head as if amused.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” he says before pulling himself into the ceiling and crawling away.

‘Stupid Barnes, with his stupid hair and his stupid ass. How does he even get into those jeans? They look like they’re painted on!’ Clint thought to himself as he rearranged his pillows. Finally settling on his side. The green light being cast into the room lit up the clock on the wall; 02:37.

‘Stupid insomniacs, with their stupid faces and their stupid opinions on the pizza place round the corner.’ He thought wearily as he drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Well, Mr. Barton, it looks like we can let you go today" the medic says, checking his folder one more time and turning to Tony. He looks up from his phone in disinterest.

"Get moving then, Hawkass. We have to ride an elevator up twelve whole floors" 

The fake enthusiasm gets an eye roll from Clint but the medic only looks concerned.

“Mr. stark please make sure that you keep Mr. Barton monitored, he's had a rather severe head injury.”

“Yeah, Tony. I’ve hurt my head can't you tell?" Clint asks, pointing to the bandage that encircles his head.

"I honestly can't tell the difference between 'severe head injury you' and 'normal' you" he says using finger quotations at the ‘appropriate’ points.

Shaking his head, Clint begins to pile his stuff into the bag that Steve had brought him yesterday. Shucking off his PJ top, he swaps it for a clean cotton one. ‘Where did Steve find clean clothes in my apartment?’ he ponders, pulling a shoe onto his right foot.

"Aww, converse no"

"What on earth have your Chucks done to you now Barton?"

"It doesn't fit over the cast, this is unacceptable! I can’t just not wear my converses"

"As I said before, its twelve floors, in an elevator, I’m sure you can manage."

"You also have crutches" the medic chimes in, looking far too happy at the prospect at losing one of his more accident prone patients. "That foot technically shouldn’t be hitting the floor.”

"But what if..."

"At all" the medic cuts in. "if you put weight on that leg before I say so, I’ll keep you here until it’s fixed.”

Grimacing, Clint pulls himself up onto his one good leg, swaying slightly from the sudden head rush. The medic hands him the crutches and he fumbles for a minute, trying to find his balance.

"Come on. Let’s go" tony says “Steve’s making breakfast and I want coffee"

"Steve can barely even boil water without help" Clint points out.

"Bucky’s helping him"

"Makes more sense now"

Rolling his eyes Tony, sweeps open the door and ushers Clint out into the waiting elevator.

The kitchen was always busy at this time of morning, even Pepper took the time out of her day to come down and have breakfast with the team before Happy drove her to whatever important meetings that she had that day. When Clint and Tony arrived in the doorway, Pepper had seated herself between Natasha and Bruce and was just taking the last mouthful of coffee from her cup.

“Right, well, I’ll love you and leave you” she says, standing up and smoothing down her skirt. She makes it halfway across the room before she notices the doorway is blocked. Her laugh draws the attention of the rest of the group. 

"Nice shoe, Clint" she says, glancing down at his feet and putting a hand on his shoulder briefly before leaving the room.

“Barton, you look like shit" Bucky calls from the stove, flipping the pancake in his pan with ease.

“Wow, thanks grandpa" Clint grouches whilst settling into the seat that Pepper had just left.

Natasha and Bruce both turn to look at him, their eyebrows raised.

"Natasha, Bruce, lovely to see you both I trust you’re well" he says, feigning ignorance and grabbing a piece of toast to butter.

“I’m very well. Thank you, Clint” Bruce states, taking a sip of his tea. “Do I want to know why you are spending your time in the infirmary?”

“I certainly do” Natasha says, leaning forward on her elbows, her eyes dark.

“For what it’s worth, it wasn’t Clint’s fault” Tony says from the other side of the table. He watches Natasha wearily as if she might strike at any minute. “Well, not entirely all his fault. The explosion was mine, but I still don’t have an answer as to why he was hanging from a streetlight in the first place.”

Everyone in the kitchen turns to face him. Clint shrugs and pulls a face as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“Ok, first question” Bucky starts breaking the silence in the room and drawing everyone’s eyes away from Clint. “How the ever-loving fuck did you end up swinging from a streetlight?” his eyes gleam in amusement and he gives Clint a fond smile.

“Parkour” Clint says proudly. “It was the only option to get away from the slugs” at Steve’s disapproving glare he sits up straighter, willing to defend himself to his friends, but wishing that he didn’t have to. “I couldn’t exactly take the stairs, and no way in hell was I asking Tony for a lift, so I did the only thing left. It wasn’t my fault you two neglected to tell me you were setting off a fucking bomb.”

The stunned silence around the room from his sudden anger grows tense, nobody daring to speak first.

Nobody apart from Bucky, who still stood flipping pancakes and staring at Clint. He makes eye contact and raises one eyebrow to form a question. Are you ok?

Clint nods, barely, but it’s enough for Bucky to turn around and begin whistling a jaunty tune, breaking everyone out of the stupor they had fallen into. The timer on the cooker goes off and it’s like a switch has been hit. Everyone resumes what they had been previously doing and soon all the attention is off Clint.

Natasha looks at him one last time a range of emotions flashing across her face. “Just be careful. Ok?”

“I’ll try” Clint promises, deciding sarcasm wasn’t the best way to answer her when she was visibly conflicted. Nodding once, she pushes herself to her feet and leaves the room. “Hey! That was my toast!” he calls after her. She laughs, but doesn’t stop walking

“Have a coffee instead” Bucky says, taking the recently vacated seat and setting a stack of pancakes on the table.

“Oh my god you’re the best! I actually love you” Clint says, making grabby hands at the mug in the other’s hands.

With a slightly sad smile, Bucky pushes the chipped mug across the table, reaching up with his metal hand to sweep away the hair that had escaped from his bun. The light coming through the floor length windows reflects off of the panels in his arm and illuminates the strong line off his jaw. The warmth in his eyes when he looks at Clint stirs something inside the archer, something he decides it’s too early in the morning to try and decipher.

Smiling tentatively back, he takes a sip of the coffee.

Bucky sighs heavily, “you really should try to be more careful. We can’t stand it when you get hurt. I can’t stand it when you get hurt. You’re worth more to the team than you realize, it would kill us to lose you”

Clint feels the sincerity behind the words and warms a little, knowing that he affects these people so much. “I promise that I’ll try. But, I can’t help it if those two”, he juts his chin to where Steve and Tony are fighting over the crossword in the paper, “fail to provide me with vital information that would stop me from being a Barton pancake”

“Fair enough, it’s not like you could have done anything to prevent it if you didn’t know it was happening” Bucky says, stealing the mug from Clint’s hand and taking a sip himself before passing it back.

Clint nods in agreement and briefly wonders when he and Bucky had become the type of friends who took each other’s drinks. Deciding that he doesn’t care, he digs into the pancakes in front of him. The leg in the cast comes into contact with Bucky’s thigh. Clint expects him to pull away, go back to hiding in the shell that he had created to stop the people around him getting hurt. 

Bucky doesn’t pull away.

The room had only just fallen into a companionable silence when Jarvis interrupts.

“It would appear that a group of unknown aliens have landed in central park, S.H.I.E.L.D requests your assistance immediately”

Everyone in the room collectively groans, before springing into action.

“Bucky, Clint, stay here and stay out of trouble, stay in the tower” Steve says as he jogs from the room following the other members of the team.

“Where else would we be?” Bucky mutters miserably.

Clint hums in agreement, leaning back in his chair and taking another mouthful of coffee before passing it to Bucky.

The sound of Iron Man taking off leaves them in an odd silence, one they aren’t used to in a tower full of superheroes.

“Fuck this” Bucky states suddenly, getting to his feet, grabbing the coffee pot, thrusting it into Clint’s hands and sweeping him out of his chair bridal style.

“Erm can I ask where we’re going?” Clint asks as Bucky carries him through the doors to the elevator.

“The range, of course”

“Of course, I always go to the range when I’m not cleared to do any actual shooting”

“You’ll just have to watch me then”

“Oh joy, how fun, I’m so excited”

“Shut your mouth, Barton” Bucky says, stepping into the elevator.

“Yessir” Clint says, throwing a mocking salute before settling back onto Bucky’s chest.

Chapter Text

Life’s just unfair Clint thinks, leaning his chin in his palm as Bucky lets of another round of shots, the muscles in his back shifting as the gun recoils in his firm grasp.

“I’m bored!” Clint whines, scrunching up his face in annoyance when Bucky leans across the table he’s sat at to flick him on his forehead.

“Tough shit, Barton. Suck it up and quit whinging” Bucky says, tipping his head back and draining the bottle of water Clint had passed him. He crushes it in his metal fingers, raising his eyebrows when Clint stares at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” Bucky says, tossing the bottle to the bin and getting it in on his first try.

“Nothing, nothing” Clint says, holding up his hands as if to surrender. “Just thinking you could reuse the bottle. That’s all”

Totally not thinking about your sexy, sexy arms Clint thinks. Absolutely not, why would I?

“Mm hmm” Bucky hums, arching an eyebrow before turning back to the targets and letting off another volley of shots.

“The only reason you’re not shooting right now” Bucky yells over the sound of the gun firing, “is because you’re a reckless asshole who apparently has decided that parkour is the way you’re gonna finally kill me in my old age. I swear to god, if I die of a heart attack, I’m writing you out of my will”

“Aww, I’m in your will? What have you left me?” Clint says, putting his hand over his heart and grinning.

“My guns and a very heartfelt letter about why you’re an ass. Not that you’ll get them if you keep this up”

“You wound me. Seriously, it’s like being thrown into a brick wall all over again”

“What part of you thinks that joking about a serious personal injury is funny?” Bucky asks angrily, throwing his arms into the air and clearly irritated by Clint’s lack of care. 

“I will not be scraping you off the sidewalk if you miss the next time that you decide to jump off a building” he says, pointing at Clint as his face slowly grows redder.

Clint winces, realising that he may have crossed a line. “I don’t do it on purpose you know” he says tentatively and Bucky looks up at him with his piercing blue eyes. They shine in the dim light, suggesting that Bucky is more upset than he lets on.

Bucky deflates and throws himself into the chair across from Clint, putting his head in his hands.

“I know” he admits quietly, tugging on the strand of hair that had fallen loose from his bun. “It’s still horrible to see you get hurt though. You’re the most vulnerable on the team…”

“Hey!”

Bucky shoots Clint a withering look but carries on, “and that doesn’t mean that you’re helpless. I’m definitely not saying that. It’s just that you get hurt so easily and then you’re so carefree about it! And it makes me worry. A lot. Because then I have to think about what it would be like to live in a tower full of superheroes who’ve all lost someone that they really care about. I don’t think I could handle it”

He looks up at Clint, his eyes red and his voice beginning to scratch. The slight guilt that Clint had been feeling since the accident escalates quickly and leaves him crippled with emotion.

“Dammit Barnes, you’re making me cry” he says, wiping furiously at his eyes. He isn’t expecting the thick, strong arms that wind their way around him, but he can’t say that they were entirely unpleasant. They sit there, both men still sniffling in each other’s arms.

“If you tell a soul about this” Bucky starts, lifting his chin off Clint’s shoulder. “I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“No problem” Clint says, making grabby hands at Bucky who had stood up. “I need you to carry me back to the sitting room” he says, motioning to his broken leg.

Bucky rolls his red-rimmed eyes in exasperation, but sweeps Clint into his arms and once again begins to walk towards the elevator.

The common room is almost eerily silent without the presence of the other Avengers, mugs still sit on the coffee table, half filled with cold coffee and showing this morning’s rush to get outside and help. There is even a stack of pancakes still visible on the table in the kitchen.

What a waste of perfectly good coffee Clint thinks mournfully as Bucky puts him down on the sofa opposite the TV. The metal plating of Bucky’s arm briefly catches on the hem of Clint’s shirt and yanks him upright when Bucky tries to move away.

“Shit sorry” Bucky mutters, tugging on Clint’s shirt. The only thing that alerted him to Clint’s incredibly close proximity was the feeling of his breath across his neck. His eyes flick to the side, studying the other man, the line of his jaw, the curl of his eyelashes.

Damn he’s gorgeous he thinks, not for the first time that day. Or week.

Finally, the t-shirt comes lose and Clint flops backwards onto the sofa dramatically. He stares at the ceiling, contemplating how best to reach the remote from where he is.

“Bucky, pass me the remote” he yells into the kitchen where Bucky stands with his back to him making a fresh pot of coffee.

“Get it yourself, you ass!” Bucky yells back, not turning around.

Rolling his eyes, Clint gauges the distance between this sofa and the one where the remote sits unattended on the other chair.

“Parkour!” he mumbles weakly as he rolls over the sofa edge, landing on the floor and wincing from the contact on his ribs. Shuffling on his arms across the floor, he thanks Tony for having the forethought to install hardwood floors, the smooth surface making it easier to slide across in his t-shirt and ratty sweat pants.

Come on Barton, just a little bit closer he thinks desperately, reaching out his hand and patting at the couch cushions, hoping to hit the remote.

“What the fuck, Barton” Bucky says from the kitchen door, two mugs of coffee in his metal hand and a box of muffins in the other. He stares judgementally at the man on the floor.

He sweeps into the room, putting down the mugs and the box and grabbing the remote off the seat.

“Barton, you do know you have a three broken ribs right?” he says to Clint, who’s still lying on the floor.

Clint groans as he rolls over, “trust me Buck, I am well aware.” He hisses as he sits up, leaning back against the sofa, “they hurt like a bitch.”

Bucky sweeps him up into his arms again, “I swear to god, Barton. Stop being an absolute dick and just sit on the sofa like a good little invalid”

“Can I at least have the TV remote?” he asks Bucky, his eyes hopeful.

“Nope” Bucky says, throwing himself down on the other sofa and switching on the news.

Live footage from the battle in Central Park lights up the screen, the news broadcaster droning on about how the Avenger’s services are needed increasingly more often and how this may signify the earths need for more super powered heroes.

“The Avengers also appear to be down a member” the woman on the TV says as the screen changes, showing the fight from the day before. 

“The Avenger known as Hawkeye seems to be out of action after yesterday’s accident”

Again, the screen changes to show Clint on the rooftop, firing arrows at the slug creatures that surround him. Watching the fight now, Clint can understand why Bucky was so angry. Watching himself throw himself off a building is nerve wracking to watch.

“Hehehe” he chuckles weakly, “who’s that idiot fighting against slugs using a bow and arrow?”

Bucky arches an eyebrow at him. “That idiot, as you put it, would be you” he says drily, taking a sip from his coffee and turning back to face the TV.

“It would appear that the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D have finally got things under control in Central Park” the broadcaster says. “But, there is still one question. When will this happen again?”

“Sheesh” Clint says, turning off the TV with a click. “There’s no need to be so dramatic. What is it with news broadcasters and spreading city wide fear of invasion?”

“Well, they have to make a living somehow. Even if it is through scaring the masses” Bucky replies with a grin, turning to face Clint. His mouth dries up at the sight of him splayed across the sofa, the soft afternoon light making his blonde hair look like a halo. Dammit Bucky thinks, still looking at Clint. Why are you so oblivious? With a shake of his head, he leans back, waiting for the tell-tale signs off the Iron Man suit and the arrival of the rest of the team.

Chapter Text

Week One

Steve wasn’t usually one to complain, he’d lived through a war after all. 

But, the war wasn’t quite this loud and Steve seriously considers throwing away his rule about complaining. He’s allowed to complain about Barton after all. Everyone else does.

“Oh my god!” Tony says, his head in his hands. “Go tell them to shut up”.

“Why should I have to do it? It’s your tower, you deal with the occupants,” Steve retorts whilst flipping the page of his newspaper.

“He’s your boyfriend!” Tony says in exasperation.    

“No,” Steve says, glancing up at the man across from the table. “You are my boyfriend. Or did you forget?”

“Technicalities,” Tony snaps. “Please Stevie!”

He adds his last plea after a particularly loud shout comes from the living room, the sounds of the TV only just able to be heard over the yell of the players.

With a sigh, Steve pushes himself out of the chair and strides across the room, flicking Tony on the forehead in the process and evoking a string of curse words from the engineer.

Sniggering to himself, Steve prepares himself for the onslaught of insults he is bound to get when he pulls the plug on the activities taking place in the lounge.

“You bastard, I can’t believe you blue shelled me!” Bucky yells, waving his arms in the air in indignation. “I was just about to cross the line!”

Clint cackles manically from his position next to Bucky on the couch. The TV proclaims him the winner of the race.

“I’m not even sorry!” Clint manages to gasp out around his laughter and the tears streaming down his face.

Steve only agrees that Clint deserved the pillow to the face that Bucky gave him, it’s just downright cruel to blue shell someone right before the finish line. “Fucker,” Bucky grumbles, leaning backwards into the sofa, moving slowly so that he doesn’t jostle Clint too much. Judging by the hand on his ribs, Clint is feeling the pain after his sudden laughter.

“It wouldn’t hurt so much if you didn’t laugh so much,” Steve points out from where he’s leaning against the chair, arms folded across his chest.

“When have you known me not to laugh?” Barton asks from his new position lying down with his feet in Bucky’s lap.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky nudges Clint’s feet with his flesh hand. The cast on Clint’s leg stops his legs from doing anything but sway slightly from the push.

“If you’re going to be so loud, can you do this somewhere else?” Steve suggests.

“Sentences that need context!” Clint and Bucky yell at the same time, high fiving after they finish. 

“You really should be careful about what you say,” Tony chimes in from the doorway, his lips slowly tugging into a grin. “Anything could be seen as sexual these days,” he finishes, a full grin stretching across his face by the end of his sentence.

Clint and Bucky break into another round of laughter, their faces going red. Steve is pretty sure that Clint is crying again.

“C’mon Buck, we’ll move somewhere else since grandpa’s such a killjoy,” Clint says, motioning for Bucky to pick him up.

“If Steve’s a grandpa, does that make me one too?” he asks as he swoops down to pick Clint up bridal style.

“Nah,” Clint says. “You’re the cool great-uncle who always sneaks us alcohol at Christmas.”

“You absolute weirdo,” Bucky says, shaking his head at the man in his arms. Steve stares after them, contemplating the fond look he saw on Bucky’s face as he looked at Clint.

“What’s the problem gramps?” Tony asks, snaking his arms around Steve’s waist and resting his chin on one of his broad shoulders.

“No problem,” he says, leaning into Tony’s hold. If anything, he’s glad that Bucky has finally found something worth keeping in the 21st century.

Week Two

“I swear to god! Barton, if you roll off that sofa one more time!” Bucky exclaims from the doorway, multiple pizza boxes balanced on his hand.

“Parkour?” Clint says weakly, looking at Bucky with wide blue eyes. Bucky sighs as he shuffles into the room and deposits his parcels.

“Ok, you brought pizza. I’ll be good,” Clint says, reaching for the box on the top. He shoots Bucky a horrified glance when the box is swept out of his reach. “I promise?” he tries weakly.

“I’ll strap you down on a bed myself if I have to,” Bucky says, eyeing Clint menacingly.

“Sentences that need context!” Clint exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky rolls his eyes dramatically before pushing the pizza boxes back within reach.

“Thank you!” Clint says around a mouthful of pizza. “Is this the stuff from the place around the corner?” he asks, wiping grease off his chin.

“Steve brought it,” Bucky says, miserably eyeing the piece in his hand like it might attack him at any minute (and this is New York so you can never be too careful.)

“I specifically said, ‘don’t go to Joe’s, go to Tony’s. It’s a little bit further away. But, it’s a lot better’,” Bucky says. “For a man who likes running so much, he sure can be lazy when he wants to be. 

When I’m allowed to leave the tower, I’m never putting myself through the pain of eating this pizza again. I will walk myself the extra mile and a half and get the best damn pizza in this city.”

Clint looks at him, one eyebrow raised in concern, “is it really that bad?” He asks finally to a glowering Bucky.

“It’s so bad that I’d rather eat mud.”

Bucky gestures at the limp piece of pizza in his hand, the grease from the slice slowing sliding down his metal wrist and seeping under the cuff of his long sleeve shirt.

“Alrighty then, you weirdo,” Clint says, swivelling back around in the sofa and flicking on the TV with the remote that’s in the hand that isn’t holding as much pizza as it can.

Week Three

“Stop tugging on your damn tie,” Clint says, batting Bucky’s hands away from where they are fiddling with the strip of fabric. “Put on your jacket too, what sort of moron doesn’t put on his suit jacket?” he huffs, grabbing the jacket from the back of the chair in the kitchen.

Bucky looks at him, his face neutral, the only thing that betrays his fear is the wild look in his eye that suggests that if he runs they’ll never see him again.

“Are you panicking?” Clint asks, smoothing down the folds of Bucky’s jacket. “Do I need to slap you?” he asks without a trace of humour in his voice.

“I will if I need to Barnes! This is your moment to shine. Get through this hearing, clear your name and then finally bring me that damn pizza that you’ve been talking about for weeks.”

Bucky smiles weakly at Clint, the wild look retreating from his eyes and a determined glint settling into his place. Clint looks at him in admiration, to have gone through so much and then still be able to be the man he is now truly impresses Clint. Bucky should have no problem proving to the World Security Council that he is back in control of his actions. 

If he doesn’t freak out of course Clint thinks silently.

Bucky knows that Clint’s trying his best to keep him calm but the constant touching was getting a bit too distracting, not that Clint notices the way that Bucky leans into his touches or how somehow they ended up standing incredibly close to each other.

It’s distracting. Bucky doesn’t need distracting on a day as important as this. If he gets pardoned for the crimes that he technically did commit but not of his own free will, he'll finally get to do the things he’s been missing since the forties. Like dancing or just going to a bar and getting a beer. 

Stuff that any free American can do. 

Not that he’s a free American, not yet anyway.

But, he decides that he’s going to be as Clint once again smooths down is jacket and brushes back the hair that had already escaped from his bun.

“C’mon buck we have to go,” Steve yells from the living room, he too is wearing a suit but unlike Bucky looks like he belongs in one. Bucky just feels like a little kid playing dress up.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming,” he says, strolling out the kitchen with his metal hand tucked in his trouser pocket.

Clint hobbles out of the kitchen behind him, struggling with the crutches that he hasn’t really had to use because Bucky normally carried him.

Bucky shoots him one last look and Clint raises both thumbs in an attempt to be encouraging and for some unknown reason it is.

The image of Clint stood there balancing on one leg and giving him the thumbs up fills him with an odd sense of calm. Maybe it’s because if this strange train wreck of a man thinks he can do it, he probably can.

Week Four

The incessant tapping of the pen was really starting to get on Clint’s nerves, like really starting to get on his nerves.

As in he was moments away from ripping the pen out of Bucky’s hand and throwing it as far away as he can. Not that it would go far, the coffee shop they were sitting in was probably one of the smallest places Clint had ever been and he willingly spends time crawling through air vents. 

Not that he particularly minded the size of the coffee shop. It was only Bucky’s second trip out since he was cleared at the hearing and Clint didn’t want him to get spooked by the crowds of girls in leggings and oversized jumpers that normally came as a package deal along with the nearest Starbucks. Even Clint couldn’t handle them and he considered himself to be a pretty strong minded person (sort of).

“Would you stop tapping that pen!” Clint finally snaps. 

His irritableness had only increased after being confined to the crutches on his first day out in four weeks. He was seriously missing everything that he used to be able to do before he got blown off the building. 

He blames Steve and Tony. They should have warned him that they were going to set off a god forsaken bomb when he was trying to gracefully leap to safety.

“Sorry,” Bucky says quietly, keeping his head down and his eyes on the crossword in front of him.

Clint sighs inwardly knowing that he shouldn’t snap at a man who has only been outside twice in the last nine months. He nudges Bucky’s calf with his fully functioning foot and gives him a smile when he looks up.

“You wanna get out of here?” he offers knowing full well that Bucky will say yes, the man wanted to see as much of the city as he could as quickly as he could. Unfortunately with Clint’s crutches, the speed Bucky had to go at was significantly slower than he would have liked.

“And go where exactly?” Bucky asks leaning forward with a small grin on his face.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever you want to go,” Clint says as he awkwardly pulls himself to his feet, trying to avoid putting too much stress on his chest, his ribs are still a bit sore.

“Great. I want to go back to the tower,” Bucky says cheerfully, sweeping his newspaper off the table and tossing down a twenty dollar bill in its place.

Clint’s head whips round so fast he’s sure that it’s permanently stuck in that direction an incredulous look on his face.

“Seriously? You’ve just been made a free man and you want to go back to the tower they made you stay in for nine months?”

“Yup,” Bucky says, popping the ‘p’ and pulling the door open for Clint to hobble through.

“We can’t do the things I planned to do when I was free because somebody...” he casts a look at Clint, “decided that it would be fun to fall off a building and break a leg and a few ribs”

“Well that guy sounds like an idiot,” Clint says, smiling when Bucky lets out a small snort of amusement.

“Yeah, he is,” Bucky agrees, hailing a taxi when they reach the side of the road.

“We’re not walking?” Clint asks innocently.

“Well, you certainly aren’t. Look at you. You’re a walking, no sorry, hopping disaster,” Bucky says, gesturing to Clint.

“I believe the term you are looking for, Barnes, is hot mess”

“Whatever you say, Barton,” Bucky says whilst clambering into the back of the taxi.

“Where to gents?” the driver asks from behind the partition.

“Avengers tower,” Clint answers automatically. But, he doesn’t expect the huff of a laugh coming from the driver.

“Right sure, and you two are avengers?” he says mockingly, like he hasn’t got two of the deadliest people in the world sat in the back seat.

“As a matter of fact, we are avengers,” Clint starts hotly, today is not the day that he gets called a liar by a fat balding man that drives a car for a living.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I’m the Black Widow and this is Captain America,” he adds scathingly. “Now take us where we want to go.”

“Alright, alright. You fellas calm down. If you say your avengers, you’re avengers and all that crap.”

It’s at this point that he looks into the rear-view mirror and sees two very pissed off assassins glaring back at him. 

If he breaks the speed limit a few times to drop them off quicker, nobody notices. He doesn’t want to keep deadly passengers in the car, who knows what damage they could do with those crutches…

Week Five

All things considered, it was incredibly lucky that the avengers got the call just before they cracked the tops off their beers. Jarvis’ calm voice breaking up the party before it’s even begun.

Bucky doesn’t know if he’s excited or disappointed when the ‘avengers assemble’ comes through the speakers in the living room, it’s a bit different now that he’s suiting up with the rest of them. He only feels slightly bad about leaving Clint behind, sat on his arse on the sofa just out of reach of his crutches. The idiot shouldn’t have left them there in the first place.

“None of you get blown off any buildings,” Tony says, sternly pointing a metal clad finger at them. The only visible reaction is the slight quirk in Natasha’s eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that Natasha, I’m talking to Bucky more than you,” he says, waving a hand on Natasha’s general direction.

“And why are you talking to me?” Bucky asks whilst strapping a knife to his thigh.

“You and Barton are basically the same person. It stands to reason that you would do something overly stupid too.”

The rest of the team nod and murmur in agreement.

“That’s hurtful guys!” Clint says startling everyone.

“Barton?” Steve asks tentatively.

“Yes, Steve, I am actually here” 

The air vent grid crashes to the floor, banging against the floor and sliding until it lands at Tony’s feet. The Avengers all follow it with their eyes, some of their mouths hanging open in shock.

Meanwhile, Bucky gets an armful of archer. All 230lbs of him. Cast and all.

“You came from the living room down here in the air vents? What the hell if wrong with you?” Bucky asks, staring at Clint in anger.

“What? It’s not like its far and Tony made the vents so that they’re basically a slide when you’re moving between floors,” Clint says, shaking his head to dislodge some of the dust in his hair.

“Дурак,” Natasha says, slapping Clint on the back of the head. “You do realise that you have broken ribs, yes?” she asks whilst giving him the scariest look Bucky has ever witnessed in his almost hundred years of living.

“Meh,” Clint says, shrugging a shoulder, or as much as one can shrug a shoulder when they’re being held in someone’s arms. “I can hardly feel them anymore, it’s all good.” Bucky agrees that he deserved the second slap to the head.

“Everybody needs to calm down,” Clint says slowly. “The doc said that I’m more or less fine. Didn’t he, Buck?” He looks up at Bucky expectantly.

“The doctor said that you’d be more or less fine if you stopped being so fucking stupid,” Bucky says, not even sorry that he was dropping Clint into it.

It is at this moment that Pepper arrives with a wheel chair.

“I saw he was gone but his crutches weren’t, I assumed the worst,” she says with a smirk.

“Always assume the worst when it’s Clint,” Bucky says seriously, depositing him the chair and giving him a stern look.

“Stay,” he says pointing a finger and raising his eyebrows.

Clint’s only objection is the slight jut of his lower lip.

Week Six

“I’m free!” Clint says, flinging his arms out and running in a circle. 

The only regret that Bucky has is hitting his face with his metal hand. Other than that, he’s genuinely happy that Clint is finally on his feet. Bucky might miss carrying him though, that was quite nice.

But no, he was happy for Clint, even the doctor was happy for Clint, who’d explicitly said, “Mr Barton, if I see you back here in the next three months I am quitting my job and moving to Hawaii”

People filter around Clint, eyeing him wearily as he continues to spin in place. Some people pull out phones and begin to film the two avengers that are in central park, Hawkeye spinning in a circle will probably be trending on twitter by noon. People are taking pictures of Bucky too, he’d gained quite the fan base after the fight the previous week. People stop seeing you as incredibly scary when there are pictures of you soaked in slime and carrying an armful of puppies away from a burning building all over the internet.

He was the most talked about avenger that week. Right after Tony and what he had called his ‘technological faults’ (one of his boots fell off revealing his Hello Kitty socks. Between the two of them, they almost broke twitter).

“So Bucky what should we do first?” Clint asks, his eyes wide with excitement. “Do you have a list of future things? Steve did, in this little notebook. It was adorable”

“First things first, I want a hot dog from a street vendor, I want to see how much they’ve changed,” Bucky says, striding away towards the nearest red umbrella he could see.

“I’m gonna warn you these things don’t count as meat,” Clint says as he takes a bite off the end of the heavily sauced hot dog.

“I’m from post-depression Brooklyn. Do you think I care that much about the meat quantity?” Bucky says. He walks slightly in front of Clint, chewing on his hot dog thoughtfully and looking around with curiosity.

“So we have hot dogs, what now?” Clint asks, taking a seat on the bench near where Bucky stopped.

Bucky took a seat next to him, smiling freely for the first time in years.

“We can do whatever the hell we want. What’s the rush?”

Chapter Text

"Bucky, do you even own more than five shirts?" Tony asks from his spot on the sofa across the coffee table from where Bucky and Clint sit.

“Yeah Buck, you wear the same stuff all the time” Steve says, joining his boyfriend on the couch and handing two beers across the table. “We can go shopping if you need to”

Bucky looks down at himself thoughtfully, faded blue jeans and a plain t-shirt was fine when he was stuck in the tower, but now that he’s a free man he thinks that he really should get himself some new clothes. Black jeans would look incredible on his legs, he thinks, they’d really emphasise his thighs.

He runs his hands along his thighs until they rest against his knees, tapping his fingers idly.

Clint looks at him from the corner of his eye, watching as Bucky runs his hands over what can only be described as the best damn thighs Clint has ever seen in his life. Like seriously Clint would be jealous if he could be, but it would be a waste to put such good thighs on himself because then he can’t appreciate them to their full extent.

And that would just be a shame.

“I mean really Bucky, you can’t keep wearing the same stuff, the public notices these things!” Tony says, knocking Clint from his musings about how best to appreciate Bucky Barnes’ thighs.

“Tony’s right buck” Steve agrees mournfully, clearly losing some kind of argument with Tony if the victorious look on his face is anything to go by.

“I don’t know…” Bucky starts, probably nervous about facing such large crowds. Or maybe it’s just the prospect of going out in public with Tony.

“Seriously, you don’t even have to pay” Tony says. As if Bucky was actually concerned about paying for his stuff, he still has stuff left over from his Winter Soldier days. Not that he’s proud of it but he still knows he needs an emergency fund.

“You don’t have to buck” Clint says quietly, poking Bucky in the arm. The metal one, pulling a face when the impact bends his finger back.

Bucky gives him a look as if to say what were you expecting?

“Alright fine!” Bucky says, “I’ll go fucking shopping”

Tony makes a noise of glee from his position against Steve’s side.

Bucky points a finger at him.

“I’m only doing this because I know that you won’t shut up about it until we go”

“Sure thing buck” Clint says, patting Bucky’s arm sympathetically.

“I’ll just call a driver…” Tony starts, leaning across Steve to grab his phone.

“Oh no!” Steve says kicking Tony’s phone out of reach of his hands.

“This is an introduce Bucky to the twenty-first century day, public transport is in order”

Tony looks at him in horror, “why on earth would you put us through that?”

“Steve, I’ve more experience in the twenty-first century than you do” Bucky points out.

“He’s not wrong” Natasha yells from the kitchen. She wanders into the lounge and throws herself down in-between Bucky and Clint on the sofa. Clint pouts at her as he retracts his feet from Bucky’s lap. His foot rub cut short by Natasha’s rude interruption.

Steve sputters indignantly, waving his hands in an insulted fashion.

“Come on buck!” Clint says, kicking Bucky over the top of Natasha’s legs. Natasha slaps him on the shin as he retracts his foot, angry that Clint made her spill coffee down her shirt.

“Don’t apologise or anything Barton” she says angrily, dabbing at the mess on her clothes.

“He’s dreadfully sorry Natasha” Bucky says solemnly, eyes widening in fake sincerity.

“We’re getting off topic” Steve says, breaking the staring match between Bucky and Natasha. “Twenty minutes and I want everyone who wants to go shopping downstairs in the lobby so we can get on the bus”

“Why are we getting the bus?” Tony asks, for once genuinely confused.

Steve flushes red and mutters something under his breath about bus passes.

“What was that about a bus pass Stevie?”

“I applied for a free bus pass” Steve says flushing an even darker shade of red.

Clint kicks Bucky in the shin looking smug.

“I told you that you could get a free bus pass, it’s an age thig”

“I still don’t want a bus pass!”

In the end only the four of them went shopping, Steve, Tony, Clint and Bucky all piling onto the bus after it had pulled up to the station just in front of the tower. Mouths fell open as four avengers climbed on, especially when one of them flashed a bus pass at the stunned driver. The had to stand as well since Steve insisted on letting everyone else on the bus stay in their seat, even after numerous elderly citizens stood up to offer Steve a seat.

Everybody moves out of the way for a national icon.

“I don’t understand” Steve says for the fifth time in as many minutes “why do the old people keep offering me their seats?”

“Maybe its cause you’re captain America?” Clint suggests.

“Or because you’re actually older than most of them?” Bucky says, swinging around the pole in the middle of the aisle, his metal arm keeping him up effortlessly.

“That might be it” Clint agrees, nodding along with Bucky.

“I personally think it may be that their scared of the disappointed glare” Tony adds, he stumbles slightly as the bus pulls to a stop to let on more people, trying to quickly regain his composure he leans against a pole and crosses his arms as if nobody would have noticed.

Steve smirks slightly at the sight.

“How many stops is it again?” Clint asks staring out the grimy window “because we just went past Macy’s. Isn’t that where we’re supposed to be getting off?”

Tony and Bucky watch disinterestedly as the bus passes the store, neither of them that excited to be there.

“Shit” Steve swears, diving for the stop button to alert the driver they want to get off. He grimaces as the people around him gasp at his language, that’ll be in the papers by morning.

“Nice work there Steve” Tony says stepping off the bus and patting his boyfriend on the shoulder sarcastically “we’ll have to deal with the press now”

Bucky and Clint follow him off the bus holding back their laughter as Steve swears again.

Chapter Text

“So Steve” Clint starts casually fingering the grey t-shirt on the shelf in front of him, “who would have thought you’d have such a potty mouth. Surely mama Rogers didn’t teach you to cuss in front of the elderly”

“You know I think that was me” Bucky says picky up a navy blue V-neck sweater and holding it against his broad chest, pulling at the edges to see if it will fit. He adds it to the pile of clothes in his arm smiling slightly, perhaps he noticed Clint’s open mouth as he held it up.

“James Buchannan Barnes! You have ruined a national icon” Clint exclaims in fake shock, trying to draw attention away from his staring.

Steve rolls his eyes at Clint’s outburst and continues browsing the rails in the men’s wear section of Macy’s.

“What’re you gonna say to the press when they find out you swore at innocent old women” Clint cries, as usual making a bigger deal out of the situation than is required.

“No comment” Steve says sarcastically.

“Well it’s good to know you’re able to handle the press because I’ve already had three calls from pepper saying that it’s all over the internet. Apparently its trending on twitter” Tony says wandering towards the trio, his eyes trained to the phone in front of him, he glances up at Steve and his sunglasses slide further down his nose.

“Oh no” Steve says, still in a sarcastic tone. He reaches for Tony’s glasses and slide them back up his head until they rest in his hair.

Tony scowls at him and Steve rolls his eyes again.

“Alright then” Tony starts “you found anything to try on yet?” He directs the question at Bucky, swivelling on his heels and blocking Steve out of the conversation. Steve shoves him to the side and steps forward, this time Tony rolls his eyes and shoves Steve back. Steve hardly sways causing Tony to pout at him.

“I was actually just heading there now” Bucky says holding up his armful of clothes. He turns to face Clint. “Are you coming to try on your stuff?”

Clint looks down at the clothing he’s been idly collecting from the racks in confusion, he frowns slightly at it wondering when the hell he picked up a green shirt.

“Yeah sure” Clint says finally after a moment of internal panic because the shirt isn’t purple. What was he thinking?

“We’ll meet you there in a minute, I just need to grab some things” Tony says, dragging Steve away by the arm.

The changing rooms in the store could only be described as unnecessarily fancy. Plush seats filed the space in the centre of the room with huge changing stalls lining the space around the edge of the room. All of this was lit by carefully placed lamps that would make hipsters squeal with joy at the site of them.

When they arrive there’s hardly anybody in there, a few people sit on the seats scrolling through their phones clearly waiting for someone to show them the clothes they’re trying on.

Bucky and Clint head further down the room to the less busy section, not feeling like being recognised as avengers.

There’s nothing worse than being cornered in the changing rooms by half naked men asking for autographs. The last time that happened Clint just felt awkward, it’s exactly the reason why he shops online now (that and pure laziness).

“do you mind if I show you the stuff I try on?” Bucky asks looking slightly awkward “I don’t really have much of an opinion on clothes yet so I need a second judgement before I make Tony buy me this stuff”

Clint laughs slightly.

“Yeah sure I only have a few things to try on anyway” Clint says “do you think I could force Tony to pay for my stuff as well?”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely” Bucky says laughing as he pulls the curtain across his cubicle.

Clint pulls of his t-shirt grinning and turns into his cubicle.

Bucky chokes silently from where he can see around the side of his cubicles curtain, staring silently as Clint stretches out his arms, the muscles in his back moving in a truly magnificent way. Clint certainly has arms worth admiring, years of archery making them toned and shaping them as well as the muscles in his back, it truly is a fantastic view.

Bucky wants to squeeze them. That and Clint’s ass which is just as magnificent as his arms.

Clint finally pulls his curtain shut, obscuring Bucky’s view, he slightly put out about being deprived of Clint’s half-nakedness.

Shaking his head he tugs his curtain fully shut and pulls on the first shirt within reach. He also grabs one of the pairs of jeans that he had taken in, the black ones that go on easily but look like they’ve been painted on. Bucky rather likes them.

“Ok Buck if you want to show me what you’ve got on” Clint says from outside his stall.

“Yeah one sec” Bucky calls back whilst zipping up his fly. He pulls back the curtain and walks out.

Clint looks up from his phone having already taken up his position on the chairs outside.

It only makes Bucky feel slightly smug when Clint’s jaw drops.

“Yeah that’s alright” Clint says in a small voice, visibly swallowing and shaking his head slightly.

He coughs into his fist and looks Bucky over again “looks good”

“Alright then” Bucky says smirking slightly, “I’ll add them to the buy pile I’m making for Tony”, with that he turns around and walks back towards the cubicle.

Clint makes a strange hnngg sound as Bucky walks away, he unconsciously reaches forward slightly imagining what Bucky’s legs must feel like underneath those jeans.

They look like they could crush him.

“You alright there Legolas?” Tony asks from somewhere to his left.

“Hnngg” Clint mumbles, dropping his face into his hands.

Tony squats slightly to get to the same level as Clint and looks in the direction the archer’s face was turned. Tony laughs quietly and claps Clint on the shoulder.

“Super soldiers eh?” Tony asks.

Clint just nods numbly, too absorbed in the sight of Bucky’s thighs in those black jeans to particularly care.

“I can’t believe I’ve been relegated to the boyfriend chair” Tony says sometime later. Clint frowns at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“You know” Tony says “the boyfriend chair. There’s always a chair outside of the women’s changing rooms where their bored boyfriends sit whilst they try on their stuff. We’re sat on the male equivalent”

“Bucky isn’t my boyfriend” Clint says absentmindedly, “the chair doesn’t apply to me”

Tony looks at him his face clearly conveying the are you really sure about that? message.

Clint squirms on his chair uncomfortably.

“Whatever you say Katniss” Tony says before turning back to his phone humming under his breath.

“Alright then” Steve says throwing open his curtain and emerging from within the cubicle. One arm is full of clothes, numerous hangers dangling from the tops of the items.

Bucky steps out from the changing room next to Steve, he also has an armful of clothes.

“Here Tony, pay for these” Bucky says, fishing his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and flicking it open, “also Bruce wants to know what we want for dinner”

“Steve isn’t allowed dinner” Clint says, “he’s being sent to bed without supper for his bad behaviour”

Rolling his eyes for probably the millionth time that day Steve tugs the clothes from Bucky’s arms.

“You two go wander and we’ll go pay for these” he says whilst pulling Tony up from his chair.

“You say we’ll pay for these as if it’s your bank card we’re going to be using” Tony muses.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m carrying everything though so I think that it’s a fair trade” Steve replies as the two of them walk away.

“Sometimes they are so married” Clint says falling into step next to Bucky as they leave the changing rooms and head for the main stairs.

A few heads turn their way and whispers begin to circulate.

“Is that the winter soldier?”

“I hear that Hawkeye has a teenage girlfriend with daddy issues”

“Would they be pissed if I ask for an autograph?”

Clint sighs in defeat and turns to Bucky, “why does everyone think that Kate is my girlfriend? I don’t even like girls!”

“Just ignore them” Bucky says but his mouth is set into a grim line, he clearly isn’t comfortable with the attention.

Glancing over to where Steve and Tony are standing in the queue for the tills, Clint swears softly seeing the length of the line. He guesses that it will take half an hour minimum to get to a till, never mind get all of their items scanned and bagged.

Clint doesn’t have half an hour, he needs to distract Bucky now.

“Hey I know” he says “let’s play hide and seek”

He nods once to reassure himself about his decision.

“Some rules though: limit the amount of super spy you put into finding a hiding space; no scaring the civilians and if the guards see you pretend that you’re browsing”

Bucky smiles slightly but it does nothing to dispel the tension around his eyes.

“I’ll count first, you have until I reach forty” Clint says, turning around and covering his eyes as he begins to count out loud.

He doesn’t hear when Bucky leaves but he can tell by the loss of body heat next to him.

Do we really stand that close together? He wonders before resuming his counting.

Meanwhile, Bucky slinks further away. He weaves through the racks with what looks like practiced ease but is actually an intense desire to move away the hoard of middle aged women that he had seen whispering between themselves and pointing at Clint.

He’s not jealous. Why should he be? It’s not like Clint’s his boyfriend or anything.

And doesn’t that say something about Bucky’s courage.

He sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly in an attempt to alleviate the headache that’s developing.

Jumping on an escalator he looks around, Clint should have stopped counting by now and he doesn’t want to get caught whilst on the move.

That would just be embarrassing.

So he heads to the only place he knows Clint will be squeamish about searching in.

The lingerie department.

Definitely not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he’s an avenger whilst browsing in the ladies underwear section he places his left hand into his pocket and avoids the eyes of the young woman working behind the till.

Glancing around swiftly to see if it’s clear he ducks under the wooden table housing what is a truly impressive selection of thongs.

Bucky quickly averts his eyes and wriggles into a more comfortable position under the table. Rearranging the cloth that’s draped over the display so that it isn’t obvious that someone is under there.

He watches in anticipation as various feet go by. Most clad in feminine shoes, the open toed sandals displaying various shades of nail polish and in one instance a terrible fungal infection that could only belong to the over sixty-five.

The worst part was that the fungal feet stop to browse the table. Bucky cringes at the repulsive images that creates.

Finally, a familiar pair of worn purple Chucks come into view.

They loiter in front of the racks that Bucky knows to be lacy night gowns and chuckles as he imagines the look of horror and confusion on the other man’s face.

After a few minutes the feet move again, heading directly for the table that Bucky is currently hiding under.

By now Clint must know that Bucky is under the table but he’s playing with him. Above the table Clint looks thoughtfully at the selection of thongs, he picks a few of them up and holds them up to himself. He moves the cloth in such a way that Bucky can clearly see what he is doing.

He sniffles a snort when Clint holds a lacy purple contraption against himself, he pulls on the edges checking that it would go around him before ‘accidently’ dropping what he’s holding.

“Hey” he says as he slides under the table next to Bucky. He grins at him before holding up the underwear.

“What do you think? The colour’s really nice but I’m not sure if there’s enough fabric at the front to hold everything in”

Heat rushes to Bucky’s face at the thought of Clint struggling to fit himself into a thong.

“I think you’d look like a fucking idiot” Bucky stutters out before sliding himself out from his hiding spot trying to hide his beet red face from Clint.

“Well how rude” Clint says in an amused tone “it’s your turn to count”

Bucky grins turning to Clint but is interrupted by the approach of a woman.

“Can I help you two gentlemen?” she asks looking them up and down. She’s clearly scandalised by their presence.

“Actually yes” Clint says, turning to face the woman before Bucky can stop him.

He holds up the purple thong that he had grabbed earlier.

“My friend here” he glances at Bucky “thinks that this is an unacceptable gift for my grandmother”

The woman blinks.

“However” Clint continues “I completely disagree. This is clearly the perfect gift for an eighty-nine year old prostitute called the Purple Cougar”

He directs the last bit at Bucky and turns to face the woman.

“Well…” the woman says, drawing out the word in an attempt to formulate a response “it’s certainly the right colour?”

Clint grins gratefully and sends Bucky a look that clearly says I told you so.

Bucky bites his lip to hold back his laughter.

“Fantastic” Clint claps his hands together happily, “would you be able to gift wrap it?”

“Of course sir” the shop attendant says before leading them to the till.

“I think you just scarred that woman for life” Bucky say thoughtfully as they leave the lingerie section and head for the homeware.

“This is New York, I’m sure she’s had worse”

“What’s worse than an eighty-nine year old stripper?” Bucky asks.

“Prostitute” Clint corrects.

“What?”

“She’s an eighty-nine year old prostitute not stripper. But then again”, Clint says thoughtfully “stripping may come into it for the right price”.

Bucky shakes his head slightly, he’s not even shocked that Clint felt the need to traumatise the staff in the shop.

He wonders if the woman recognised them and served them because she felt she couldn't refuse a pair of Avengers or if she simply thought they were just some random men with a serious need to buy a thong.

He continues this train of thought a Clint leads them slowly through the shop.

“Anyway” Clint says eventually, “it’s still your turn to count”

“Alright fine” Bucky says “but I’m only counting to thirty”

Clint runs off with a laugh, waving his hand over his shoulder at Bucky. People jump out of the way as he barrels past and more than a few people tut at his behaviour.

Bucky rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother counting, he’ll just leave whenever he feels like it.

He loiters in the homeware section for another few minutes before following the path that Clint had taken.

Of course knowing Clint, Bucky heads straight for the children’s section, specifically the aisle with all of the toys.

Because that is obviously somewhere Clint ‘man-child’ Barton would go.

However, Bucky soon comes to the conclusion that Clint doesn’t want to be found.

He spends fifteen minutes peering under tables, checking around corners to see if Clint is moving whilst Bucky isn’t looking before he finally decides to check on the actual shelves. He moves toys into an order that allows him to see the back of the shelf in one metre intervals, hoping that a tall man wouldn’t be able to stay in such a small space for long.

When that doesn’t work Bucky has to stop to look around. At least five adults and seven children are peering at him in confusion. One member of staff looks as if they are seriously considering either approaching Bucky or ringing for the store security.

The bullet hits him on the head as he turns from the cashier in the hope that they would ignore him if he looks busy.

It’s not a real bullet of course, he picks up the foam cylinder and rolls it between his fingers.

The bullet hits the tip of his nose this time and he scowls at Clint.

He stands at the end of the aisle a few metres away his nerf gun held out in front of him and a grin on his face.

The packaging is still on the gun but only just, most of the cardboard is bent back so that the gun can actually release its bullets.

“You know, you’re not supposed to take the packaging off until you’ve bought it” Bucky says.

“I’ll pay for them” Clint says throwing a second gun at Bucky.

This one still has the packaging intact and Bucky turns to Clint with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not doing it” he says, gesturing to the packaging.

Clint rolls his eyes and walks towards Bucky.

He pulls out a knife from somewhere on his body and really it could be anywhere, Bucky finally understands Clint’s desire to wear baggy clothing.

The knife cuts through the zip-ties on the gun with ease and Clint tosses the removed packaging over his shoulder.

It narrowly avoids hitting a toddler who is looking at them in shock. He, like Bucky, was probably taught that products had to be bought before use.

Bucky sincerely hopes they haven’t just put this child on a path that leads to a life petty of crime and a jail sentence.

He glances back from the child and directs his attention to Clint.

He only stands a few inches away, their chests almost touching.

Clint fiddles with the gun, pulling the trigger and catching the bullets as they’re released. After stuffing the bullets back in the gun he glances up at Bucky.

Bucky almost shivers when their eyes meet.

It’s definitely not a secret to himself that he feels something for this man. When he told Steve (in confidence but of course Tony now knows) he tried to convince Bucky that it was love. But Steve’s a hopeless romantic so of course he would say that.

Bucky had laughed and shrugged it off at the time but now looking into Clint’s eyes he’s not so sure.

“Here” Clint says, breaking the moment.

He holds out the gun for Bucky to take and Bucky accepts it without thinking.

“The rules are simple” Clint says, a grin replacing the thoughtful look that had been on his face only moments before “shoot anywhere, if you get hit you lose a point, you have ten to start with.” He holds up ten fingers, “First one to hit zero buys lunch”

“Does that even count as a rule?” Bucky queries, a grin similar to Clint’s spread across his face.

“I said it does, so yes”

“Of course. My mistake” Bucky says wryly.

And with that the bullets start flying.

Clint shoots first, aiming for Bucky’s chest but he side-steps it and it hits a nearby shopper.

The woman glares at them not even trying to hide her disgust at their actions, causing Bucky to burst into laughter

The next bullets hits him solidly on his backside as he bends over with laughter.

The three after that land in the same spot.

“Clint you fucker! Stop shooting me on the ass!” Bucky cries, looking around wildly to see where the bullets are coming from.

“Language!” Clint shouts from somewhere to the left, only to swear himself when Bucky’s next bullet hits him solidly in the eye.

“Fuck you!” Bucky shouts back, a smile on his lips.

The woman who had glared at them earlier gasps in disgust and mumbles something about complaining about the destruction of property and unacceptable behaviour in front of impressionable children.

“Golly gosh, you forties boys have got serious potty mouths” Clint says from right behind him and Bucky whirls in surprise letting off a bullet that hits one of the men nearby in the chest.

It bounces off his black tie and it’s at that moment that Bucky realises that security have arrived.

Clint laughs gleefully and grabs Bucky’s hand, pulling him along until their both running from the two security guards that the cashier had called for when the woman with the disgusted face had complained.

“Why are we running?” Bucky asks Clint as the both sprint down the escalators, the security guards yelling after them.

“Hey you need to pay for those” one of them yells, and both Bucky and Clint simultaneously throw the toys guns they were holding onto towards the escalator going up to the other floor.

“Stop!” the other guard cries, “you need to pay for those”

“Send the bill to Tony Stark!” Clint yells, jumping up onto the glass counters which house the shops jewellery collection.

He jumps from counter to counter, laughing manically. He looks so happy it makes something in Bucky’s chest ache.

And Bucky can’t say that he’s not enjoying the experience. It’s weird that running from a group of store security guards is the first time that he’s felt truly alive since he got away from Hydra.

He speeds up as he breaks free of the throng of tourists. Clint jumps from the last counter, narrowly avoiding kicking an Asian tourist in the head.

“Parkour” he yells as he lands, doing a weird hand-spring thing that Bucky is going to have to ask him about later.

But for now he just laughs as he runs out of the department store after Clint, a group of security guards following after them.