#and bucks like yes sorry bye! I mean like see you later not bi ha ha bye! shit

[theotherbuckley]

I need the 118 responding to a call involving a sex incident where both parties are male. Buck in his newly found bi discovery just making an absolute fool out of himself not knowing how to act.

[feedmecookiesnow]

love the one you’re with

For the anon who requested: “Can you write something for winterhawk where one of them gets nervous about PDA or being together publicly because lgtbq community wasn’t accepted for a while? (I have issues myself 😅)”

I’m sorry this has taken me so long to get to! As a fairly straight person, this isn’t something I’ve ever experienced personally, so I was asking around for some details to help me get this right. Thank you for your patience, and I hope this is what you were looking for.

***

“Can I ask you something?”

Bucky looks over at Clint. He’s hanging upside down on the couch, lazily throwing darts at the opposite wall. They’re forming some kind of pattern, although it’s too early to tell what yet.

“Yes, your abs look good like that,” Bucky tells him.

Clint snorts. “I know that. That’s not the question.” He throws another dart.

“What’s the question?”

“Why won’t you hold my hand when we’re in public?”

Bucky freezes in the middle of flipping a waffle onto a plate. “What?”

“Whenever we’re out.” Clint rolls onto his stomach and pushes upright. Bucky eyes the muscles in his back appreciatively. “You’ll touch me here, or in front of the team, but whenever we go out it’s like you shut down. Even when we’re on dates.”

“I don’t...” Bucky thinks about it. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Even if I initiate it, you pull away after a bit.”

Bucky clears off the griddle and snaps it off. “I don’t mean to.”

“So why do you?”

He sounds defensive about it, almost. Or something like that. They haven’t been officially dating long, and Bucky still finds it hard to read his tones sometimes. “I don’t know. Come eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You were hungry ten minutes ago.”

“I---” Clint stops, looks at the waffles. “Will you just answer the question, please?”

Bucky studies him for a moment. He’s rolling a dart between his fingers, and his whole body is tense. Keyed up, almost. Like he’s ready to bolt out the door.

“You think I’m ashamed of us,” Bucky guesses. “Of being with you.”

“It’s crossed my mind,” Clint says, trying and failing to look like this thought doesn’t bother him. “I mean, I know you and Steve used to be a thing, and I’m not anything compared to him. I’m irritating and hard to deal with and I mess shit up a lot. We don’t look like we go together at all. I get it if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Bucky bursts out laughing.

It’s probably the wrong move, judging by his face, but Clint is just so far off the mark that it’s almost absurd.

“It’s not you,” he finally gets out. “Were you really thinking that? That’s not even close to being true. I love everything about you, irritating parts and all. You are not the problem here. Not even a little bit.”

Clint looks relieved. “So what is it, then?”

“It’s everyone else.” Bucky rubs a hand through his hair. “I mean---it’s just---when Steve and I were together, we had to hide it. If people knew we were queer like that...” He shakes his head. “Steve got beat up enough as it was, you know? They woulda killed him if we weren’t careful. So we had to hide it.”

“You don’t have to hide it now,” Clint says. “It’s the modern age, Buck. It’s okay to be gay. Or queer, or bi, or ace, or whatever the hell you want to be. No one cares.”

Bucky sets the waffles down. “Sure they do. Didn’t you hear those guys the other day? And then last week, you kissed me in the store and that one guy got in your face about it. You almost got your nose broken.”

“So what?” Clint pushes up onto his hands, walks a couple steps, then tucks and rolls up onto his feet. “You just gotta ignore them. That’s what I do. Or punch them, if they deserve it. I mean, anyone who gets in a fight with us is gonna regret it. That guy did.”

“It’s not that easy, Clint.”

“Sure it is.”

“It’s not.”

Clint looks at him. “It really bothers you, huh?”

Bucky shrugs helplessly.

“Why haven’t you said something?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was hoping it would go away.”

Clint snorts and sits down, pulling a waffle over. “Because ignoring your problems is the best way to deal with them?”

“Okay, you are so not one to talk about ignoring problems.”

“Fair.” He takes the syrup out of Bucky’s hand and starts prying at the cap. “I wish you would’ve told me, though. You can talk to me about this stuff.”

“I know. I just...” Bucky takes the syrup back and pops the cap off, then hands it to him. “It’s really ingrained. I don’t even know I’m doing it half the time.” He sighs. “It’s just different. I spent my whole relationship with Steve trying not to talk about it, or show anything that would make people think that about us. And then there was Hydra and the whole Winter Soldier thing, you know.”

“That minor incident, yeah,” Clint says. He turns the bottle over and somehow manages to miss the plate entirely. “Aw, syrup, no.”

Bucky reaches over to the sink and tosses him a washcloth. “Anyway. I guess I’ve never really had a chance to work past it. I like you, and I want to be with you, But every time we’re out there---” he gestures to the window “---it’s like it all comes back to me. Even something as easy as holding hands just screams danger in my head. I don’t want you to get hurt because some asshole’s got an opinion about a couple of guys being together.”

“You’re worth getting hurt over,” Clint says, getting up to rinse off the cloth. He kisses Bucky’s forehead as he goes by, and Bucky has to take a moment to breathe past the sudden lump in his throat. “But I understand. I’m glad you told me.” He thinks for a moment, then brightens up. “I have an idea.”

“No,” Bucky protests, because Clint’s ideas inevitably end up with something going terribly wrong. He adores the hell out of Clint, but he also has absolutely no idea how one person manages to get into so much trouble. “Steve will kill us if he has to bail us out of jail again.”

“No one’s going to jail this time,” Clint says. “I promise.”

“We’d better not, because Tony still brings that up, and I’m really tired of hearing about it.”

“No jail. You’ll like this, I promise.”

Bucky doesn’t ask further. Clint would probably tell him if he pushed, but he also knows that it makes Clint happy to surprise him with things, so he just swallows down his questions and reaches for the syrup.

------

Two nights later, Clint knocks on the bathroom door. “You in here?”

“No, it’s a ghost,” Bucky says. “Of course it’s me, who the hell else would it be?”

Clint chuckles. “Okay, good point. Are you almost ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec. Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Canada. Specifically, Toronto.”

Bucky blinks in surprise. “Canada?”

“Yep.”

“Toronto?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see when we get there.” He knocks again. “Come on. Nat has graciously agreed to fly us.”

“Really?”

“Okay, so I bribed her. Same thing.” He knocks for the third time. “Come on, I’ve already got a bag packed for you.”

Bucky looks in the mirror one more time. He’s slightly nervous for this, although he’s not sure why. “Yeah, okay.”

He steps out into the hallway, and nearly starts laughing at the look on Clint’s face. Bucky doesn’t think he’s wearing anything particularly special---it’s just nicer jeans and a dark grey shirt, but Clint looks like he’s been sucker-punched at the sight.

“Gonna catch flies like that,” Bucky informs him, but Clint doesn’t appear to be listening. He’s too busy dragging his eyes all over Bucky, from his legs to his chest to his arms and finally back up to his face.

“Ah,” he manages after a moment, a strangled sort of noise that Bucky wants to hear again in a slightly different context. “You, uh. You look good.”

“Not too bad yourself, doll,” Bucky says, kissing his cheek. “I like the jacket.”

Clint looks down at it. “Yeah, Nat picked it out. She picked out all of this, actually. Something about not trusting me to dress myself.”

“Figures. You said you packed a bag? I thought this was a one night thing.”

“Nope. We’re going on a weekend vacation.” He grins at Bucky. “We deserve it.”

“I’m in,” Bucky says immediately. “Can’t remember the last vacation we had.”

“Florida.”

Bucky thinks for a moment. “That was less of a vacation and more of us going off-grid for three days.”

“We take what we can get.” Clint thumbs towards the door. “Let’s go.”

------

They drop their things in their hotel, and then Clint leads him downtown Toronto, navigating through the streets with ease. “Memorized the map,” he says, when Bucky asks how he knows where they’re going. “I wanted to look confident. Is it working?”

“Definitely.”

“Great,” Clint says, two seconds before he trips over his own feet.

Bucky catches him automatically. “Careful,” he murmurs, smirking a little.

“Just testing gravity.” He straightens his jacket and grins at Bucky. “We’re here, anyway.”

“And here is...”

“Have a look.” Clint gestures behind him, and Bucky turns around.

It doesn’t look any different to the other streets they’ve been walking on, and at first he doesn’t get it. “Why...” he starts, and then he sees the crosswalk. It’s painted in rainbow colors, something that he’s come to recognize as having a different meaning beyond just pretty aesthetics. And it’s not just the road either---it’s on the buildings, and in the windows, and painted onto bricks.

Clint gently pulls him out of the way as a tall woman walks past, one arm wrapped around another woman. As Bucky watches, they kiss each other good-bye, then separate at the street corner. Another group of people hustles past, all done up in fancy dresses, and Bucky realizes with slight shock that four out of the five are guys. And it’s not that he’s never seen guys in dresses, but not out in public, and it takes him a moment to wrap his mind around it.

Bucky looks to Clint, who is watching him with an intent expression. “This is the Village,” he says, throwing his arms out. “What do you think?”

“I, uh...”

He turns, looking around at the multitude of pride flags, and the different people walking past, and he feels---

He feels at ease, for once. Relaxed in a way that he normally can’t get while out on dates. He’s always evaluating the crowd when they’re out at home, hyperaware of the fact that someone might see and react poorly to them being together. It’s never quite the violent scene of his youth---he once knew a guy who was beaten near to death for it---but it still happens. There’s still dirty looks, and whispered words, and other things that set his teeth on edge, making him paranoid to even stand too close to Clint sometimes

But this is different. There’s no looks, here. No muttered slurs. He’s pretty sure that he could display his metal arm and kiss Clint in the middle of the street, and nobody would even look twice at them.  

“I love it,” he says honestly, and Clint beams at him.  

“Awesome. I knew you would.” He points across the street. “I made us reservations there. Come on.” He holds out his hand, and after a moment, Bucky puts his own in it. It’s worth the brief flash of discomfort to see the look of joy on Clint’s face.

They get settled at an outdoor table and put in their orders. Bucky sips his beer and looks around at the street, taking it all in. “This is really something else,” he says. “Have you been here before?”

“No, but Steve and Tony were telling me about it. I thought it might be something you’d like.”

Bucky nods. “I do. It’s...it’s nice. I feel like I can relax. Like I don’t have to be worried.”

“You don’t have to be worried anyway,” Clint tells him.

“I know that,” he says. “Believing it’s another story. Some of the shit I used to see, Clint, you can’t even imagine---”

“This isn’t the 40’s anymore,” Clint says carefully. “I know people still suck, but it’s not quite as bad as it used to be.”

“Yeah, but...” Bucky shakes his head. “I’m trying, okay? It’s just hard to shake.”

“I know, Buck.” He leans forward suddenly, setting his beer aside. “Look at me.”

Bucky does, noting the serious set to his face. “I’m listening.”

“Good.” He taps his fingers on the table. “Here’s the deal. I’m insanely happy to be with you. I want to hold your hand in public and kiss you in public and possibly have you bang me in an back alley somewhere.”

Bucky blushes. “Clint, what---”

“Shut up and let me have my fantasies.” Clint winks, then turns serious again. “But I brought you here because I wanted to show you this.” He gestures to the street, and the people walking past. “That there’s places out in the world where you don’t have to hide. You can be proud of who you are, and who you’re with.”

Bucky nods, not sure if he’s really got the words to express what he’s feeling at the moment.

“You don’t have to do this at home,” Clint says. “I don’t want to force you into doing anything you’re not comfortable with. If you need me to play the straight bro with you when we’re in public, I can do that. But I just wanted to show that there’s more people out here, like us. We’re not alone. It’s okay for you and me to be together, and it’s okay to show that we’re together.”

He reaches out and covers Bucky’s hand. “There’s always gonna be assholes and people making comments or staring. I can’t stop them. But I like you too much to let it bother me, and I’m hoping that one day you can get to the point where you feel the same.”

“I...”

Clint smiles at him. “I’m in this for the long run, okay? And it’s gonna take a lot more than some moron with an opinion to scare me off of you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Bucky says quietly. “Thank you, doll.”

“I got your back,” Clint says just as quietly, squeezing his hand. “Always.”

“I know you do.” Bucky smiles at him. “You’re my guy.”

“Damn straight.” He pauses, then says, “Well. Straight might be the wrong term.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Bucky snorts, burying his face in his hand. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Shut up. You love my puns and you know it.”

Their food arrives, and they spend the rest of the time talking and eating. When they’re done, Clint drops a couple bills on the check before Bucky can and stands up. “Come on,” he says, straightening his jacket. “There’s a bar down the street we gotta see.”

“Why’s that?” Bucky asks, standing up.

“Rumor has it they have a hell of a drag show. I’ve been dying to see it.” He holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

“Happy to,” Bucky says, taking it, and he pulls Clint into a kiss that’s probably not entirely appropriate for a public space. But he doesn’t care, and to realize that he doesn’t care just makes him even happier.

“Okay,” Clint says when they break apart. “You kiss me like that again, and we’re gonna move here full time.”

Bucky laughs. “I think I’d be okay with that,” he says, letting Clint pull him away from the table. “I like it here.”

“Me too,” Clint says with a grin, tucking his hand more firmly into Bucky’s. “Me too.”