#bucky verse: after the equinox

[dramatisperscnae]

@normaltothemax has to put up with some more of my bullshit where Clint and Bucky are concerned >w>

He has no idea what time it is. He's not even sure how or when he got here. Hell, he's barely aware of where here is, standing in Barton's living room. Maybe it's habit, or instinct; it certainly isn't any kind of conscious thought that led him here at this time of night.

Is it night?

Probably. He's only in a pair of boxers and a robe tossed on to keep the spring chill off. Sleeping gear. That means night.

Hell, Clint's probably asleep. Or out. Could be on a mission. Hopefully not; Bucky needs someone right now. Needs to not be alone. Needs help coming back to himself. But right now the living room is empty and-

No it's not. There's Barton. Looking shocked to see him, but Bucky doesn't even really register that. He's already leaning against the archer, his head against Clint's shoulder, one hand reaching up to rest almost tentatively on Clint's back as if he's afraid of being pushed away.

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Clint seems to be calming down from the initial panic, which is good. Bucky's not looking for easy laughter or optimism right now, he's not that stupid; he just needs Clint calm and willing to believe him. Willing to work with him.

Willing to keep fighting.

Optimism can come later, once Bucky knows the full extent of the damage.

The shaky laugh his offer gets, therefore, is absolutely a good sign. It might be a shade on the hysterical side, thin and thready, but that doesn't make it any less a release of the pressure Bucky is sure has to be building up inside his archer. The weak attempt at banter that follows is even better, actually pulling a faint smile out of Bucky as he rests his cheek against Clint's head. "Trust me, Steve's never been above smuggling for a good cause." And as far as Bucky is concerned, this is the best cause in the world.

He keeps his hand stroking through Clint's hair, not letting go even for a moment and tightening his hold gently as his archer speaks again. What if. A part of Bucky wants to dismiss that statement entirely, brush it aside and insist that there won't be a what if to worry about…but there's a time and place for that kind of thing. Growing up watching a chronically ill Steve, listening to Ma Rogers assure her boy…Bucky still might not have all those memories back, but he has enough of them. Enough to know that sometimes you have to accept the worrying and face the worst case head-on.

"…If that happens, we'll figure something out," he says softly. "But nothing's set in stone. You're stuck in a nightmare right now, angelbird, but I'm right here with you. And I'm not gonna stop fighting for you. But most of this fight is yours, and the more determined you are to fight the better your chances get. Do it out of spite if for no other reason; do it as a fuck you to the ones who did this to you in the first place."

Clint tries to focus on the feeling of Bucky’s hand in his hair, on the smooth, quiet rumble of his voice, but it’s hard. All that panic is still there, clawing at the edges of his mind, choking him, whispering all sorts of things he doesn’t want to hear. On top of that, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve this kind of gentleness. Hell, he doesn’t even know what to do with it.

Angel-bird. The nickname makes something deep in his chest twist with equal parts comfort and disbelief. It doesn’t feel right, not when he’s so broken, not when he isn’t soft. Birdbrain is what he usually gets. That’s the familiar one. The one that feels normal. But this…angel-bird. It falls from Bucky’s lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Yet another thing he doesn’t know what to do with.

He presses his forehead to Bucky’s collarbone, letting the words wash over him. Beaten tougher odds sounds good on paper, sure, but Clint knows how this works. He knows the odds of fixing hands like his. Knows the kind of fight that’ll take. Even worse, he knows those odds still might not be enough. The promise, though? The ferocity behind it? He clings to that. Maybe he doesn’t have to believe he can beat the odds. Maybe he just needs to believe in Bucky.

A shaky, slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up at the mention of Dog Cops, cutting through the tightness in his chest, even if the feeling is only fleeting. It’s strained, choked, and so very far from his usual quick wit, but it’s there. “Never thought I’d see the day Captain America smuggled a DVR,” he mumbles, the sound muffled against Bucky’s shoulder.

It’s weak, a poor attempt at his usual humor, but it’s something. He’s trying.

The words come slower now, quieter, like he’s scared the fragile control he currently has will snap if he speaks too loudly. “I don’t know if I can do this, Buck.” His voice cracks over the confession, raw and vulnerable in a way he doesn’t often let himself be. “What if—” He swallows. “If I can’t…” He doesn’t finish, doesn’t need to. They both know what he means.

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“Why are you being so gentle with me? I like it when you’re rough.” (Clint @ Bucky)

[NSFW Prompts]

Bucky stops. Goes absolutely still. He hadn't expected a complaint of all things. They'd just both had a rough time recently and it had started with absently cuddling sharing space on Clint's couch and things had just kind of. Gone from there. There hasn't been any conscious decision about gentle or rough on his part, he's just been doing what feels right.

Apparently that's the wrong thing to do right now.

Sure, he knows Barton enjoys the roughness; Clint's never made any kind of secret about that, and generally Bucky is content to oblige. But generally Clint's also mouthing off, teasing and goading and making it easier to be rough, even when Bucky's trying to be careful of whatever new injuries the idiot archer's managed to get himself this time.

And maybe that's where the gentleness has really come from this time, too. Fuck, he damn near lost Clint, with those fucking kidnappers recently, and it had taken all but actively threatening the medical staff for them to take his demand to save Clint's hands seriously, and Bucky is still not over the look of absolute shock and defeat that first time Barton had seen the full extent of the damage and-

Christ, he's in deep, isn't he?

And maybe, just this once, he'd wanted to try and show Clint that, make him feel like something more than just-…what, a co-worker with benefits? A fuckbuddy? Bucky doesn't even know what to call whatever it is they have now, but it doesn't feel like enough some days.

"…would you rather I was rough?" the question is quiet, Bucky watching Clint with an almost guarded uncertainty. He's still working on letting people in, and right now he'd like nothing more than to just shut down and back off. Hiding behind a question of his own isn't exactly being open, but at least he's making the attempt at communication, right?

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@arobinwithoutbatman [x]

"Keurig? Huh. Then he's either got poor taste in beans specifically or just poor taste in coffee in general." He said, calm and casual while his fingers dragged something on his wrist computer. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'get in the space you annoying little' before looking up and grinning. "Hi, I'm Robin. Tony's security sucks, it was really easy to bribe the AI into staying quiet. My brother Nightwing was supposed to help with a project or mission or something but he's out with a concussion and I've got nothing else to do today." He let out a triumphant noise as he apparently finished whatever he was doing for now. "Also, I totally get the need for caffeine when working on projects and just generally dealing with all the crazy in the universe, but you can still have taste. There's good coffee with a nice bitter tang, and then there's whatever sludge this is. Seriously, Gotham Bay looks more inviting."

This kid was seriously just dragging the hell out of Tony Stark without a second thought, wasn't he? Bucky just watched him, fairly nonplussed and quietly amused. Most people were too awestruck to do much more than yammer on about Stark's genius - which, okay, the man was one, but still - while this kid clearly gave precisely zero fucks at all.

That said, Bucky seriously doubted the resident AI was actually that easy to bribe. How the hell did you bribe an AI anyway? Tony was a lot of things, but careless with security he absolutely was not; it would take a hacker on the level of Natalia to crack his systems. Add JARVIS's own capabilities into the mix and honestly hacking into the Avengers security systems was all but impossible. So, either the kid was a genius of an order even beyond Stark, or the resident AI had just let him in without too much quibbling. Bucky was inclined to think the latter, himself, but there was no reason to go bursting the kid's bubble.

"So you probably got Barton's coffee, if it's that bad," Bucky told him. "Stark's too picky to allow anything but the finest, but Barton'll drink anything if it's hot, brown, and caffeinated. Stark designed his own machine; I call it a Keurig because it annoys him, mostly." And because that was essentially what it was, Tony, for fuck's sake, there were only so many damn ways to brew coffee in the world. "And since Barton has his own machine that lives on the counter that's probably what you used."

Folding his arms he looked Robin over. Skinny little kid. Clearly used to using code names more than real ones. From Gotham by his own admission - and by his accent - which meant vigilante, and probably capable enough on his own. Had some serious gumption, too, the way he was talking. Reminded him a little of Steve back in the day. "Unfortunately for you, I dunno anything about what plans there are or might've been. I'm just here as a favor to a friend; I'm not part of the team."

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if you keep doing that, i can't promise i'll behave. (Clint @ Bucky)

[Touch-Starved Prompts || accepting]

Sharing this...whatever it is they have going between them is still fairly new for Bucky, mostly in regards to waking up with someone else in the bed occasionally. The first couple of times it had actually taken him a few seconds to register who it was snoring beside him, but he's learned to recognize Clint's scent by now.

It's not technically morning yet, the grey light of dawn only barely starting to brighten the windows, but Bucky's awake anyway and there is no going back to sleep at this point, not even with Clint sprawled half on top of him like a moron. Birdbrain has absolutely no concept of personal space when he's asleep.

Bucky doesn't mind as much as he insists he does. The warmth and weight are both nice.

He shifts just enough to pull Clint's back to his chest, settling on his side with one arm around the archer's waist. Metal fingers stroke idly over soft skin, Bucky just enjoying the fact that he can feel with his prosthetic. He cuddles a little closer, nuzzling up against Clint's neck.

"If you keep doing that, I can't promise I'll behave."

The half-mumbled words have the soldier pausing for a second before he just pulls Clint tighter to him, brushing a kiss over the back of Clint's neck before murmuring, "when do you ever...?"

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“If you think I’ve been bad news before…” (for bucky)

[B:TAS starters || accepting]

"I'm hardly expecting you to be good news now." He should be so lucky. Good news and Bucky Barnes weren't exactly on speaking terms these days. "Do I even want to know what's dragged you out here this time?"

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[ TUG ]:     sender, sensing the receiver nearby behind them, tugs them by the hand until they’re lying behind them as the big spoon. (Clint & Bucky)

[Things Done While Spooning || accepting]

Bucky never leaves his back exposed. Not if he can help it. Not unless he knows, with 100% certainty, that he is safe and secure. On a good day, that's his apartment. On a bad day…well, let's just say those are the nights he sleeps wedged between his bed and the wall. Tonight? Tonight falls somewhere between the two, considering he's just jolted awake for no reason in particular only to go absolutely still when he registers another presence in the room.

No, not just in the room. In his bed.

Ice slides down his spine, Bucky about three seconds from instinctive violence before reality manages to sink in. That's Clint. That's Clint. Clint stayed over tonight, and given they're long past worrying about modesty at this point - and the fact Clint is too damn tall to fit on Bucky's couch…

For a few moments Bucky just lies there, staring at the wall, letting his heart rate calm down. Then he hesitates. That space between his shoulderblades is twitchy now, as if he can feel a sniper scope focused there. Stupid. There's nothing to worry about, no reason to get jumpy now, Clint is right there, even if he is asleep. Sure, without his aids in Clint could sleep through a damned earthquake, but he's still right there.

Slowly Bucky reaches back, his hand finding Barton's. He doesn't want to actually risk waking the man up, but at the same time a part of him needs this. And there's nothing wrong with it, right? Hell, they've slept together for fuck's sake, this is absolutely tame by comparison. So why, then, is he so damned hesitant? Like he's going to get caught?

For fuck's sake, Barnes, pull yourself together.

Carefully, moving slowly, Bucky tugs the archer closer, settling Clint's arm around his waist and shifting to press his back against Clint's chest. That solves the twitchy chill between his shoulders. Clint's right there, he's not alone, everything's fine. Right? Right.

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“Against The Wall” + reverse (Bucky @ Clint (hell yeah manhandle him Buck))

[Kiss the boys || accepting]

They're arguing. Again. It feels sometimes like that's all they do. One of them will say something, or do something, and the other one will mouth off, and then they're at each other's throats again until one or the other of them ends up stalking off and leaving the other one feeling like absolute shit. Hell, the one stalking off probably feels like shit, too.

It's a neverending cycle, one Bucky has been trying to learn how to break, but so far it hasn't worked. They always end up right back where they started, him and Clint, and he's tired of it. Okay, so he has a hard time opening up, but for fuck's sake he's been trying, hasn't he? He spent the better part of a goddamned century blocked from registering emotion at all, programmed and controlled like a fucking machine more than a man, and learning how to be human again isn't easy. Having Clint riding his case all the time doesn't make it any easier.

Having Clint apparently fail, repeatedly, to get the memo that Bucky actually gives half a damn makes it even worse.

So this time around, Bucky's decided, he's not going to stalk off. He's not going to back down. He's going to make Clint actually understand, even if he has no idea how the hell he's going to do that. And then something Clint says just sets him off, and he's moving. But not away. Toward.

His hands fasten on Clint's collar, slamming the archer into the wall, and honestly not even Bucky knew he'd intended on kissing the man until it's happening. Hard and fiery and intense, like he has something to prove.

Hell, maybe he does.

He doesn't let up until Clint's stopped fighting, and even then Bucky only pulls back enough to glare up at him. "Stop. Saying that shit. What's it gonna take to get through your thick skull, Barton? What more do I have to do? You think no one gives a damn about you, wrong. I do."

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It was kind of ridiculous how Bucky's attention shifted from his own trouble's to Steve's with just a handful of words. He didn't even bother trying to hide the flash of concern on hearing Steve wasn't sleeping much either. On some level he knew it shouldn't be surprising, given everything Steve had gone through - surely the man had his share of nightmares too, didn't he? - but even so, it just seemed…wrong for Steve to have trouble sleeping.

And yet here he was, fussing over Bucky.

That just didn't sit right. Memory was still a shaky thing for Bucky, but he knew that - once upon a time - he'd been the one looking out for Steve. For the scrawny little guy two breaths away from the hospital at any given time. Steve hadn't much liked being fussed over, either, but someone had had to look out for him back then. Now…? Steve could stand on his own, more than, and Bucky was more a burden than anything else. Not that Steve would ever call him that, he knew, but that was how it felt.

"…I know," he said, his attempted smile growing slightly. As guilty as Bucky felt for not being who he ought to be - or who it felt he ought to be - he did understand what Steve was trying to do. What Steve was doing. "It's just…taking some getting used to. Y'know?" Bucky'd been dealing with his troubles on his own for so long, having to shove them down, ignore them, push through them…adjusting to the idea that he didn't have to anymore was going to take a while yet.

Steve looked to Bucky, wishing more than anything that he could help, that he could take away the nightmares. He knew he couldn't force his friend to talk. He wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable. He knew how painful some things were to talk about and he hadn't even been through half of what Bucky had.

His hand lifted, waving away the apology with a shake of his head. "You've nothing to apologise for. I don't sleep much these days anyway." The admission came with a small smile, lifting his journal and flicking through, showing Bucky the various night-time drawings he'd completed. They ranged from detailed sketches to little doodles. "Get some of my best thinking done at night."

Eyes looked back to Bucky. "Y'know, if you ever can't sleep or if you need me, you can come to me, right? You'll never be disturbing me. Even if it's just to have someone to sit with, we don't have to talk. I just -" He closed his journal again. "I want you to know that I'm here for you."

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[ pat ] sender playfully pats receiver's butt (Clint @ Bucky)

[Playful Affection prompts || accepting]

"...Do you do that to every plumber that comes to your apartment?"

Bucky would look around, except that he's currently stuck under Barton's sink working on getting a leak fixed. Well. That's what he was originally fixing; it's turned into removing a blockage that will then become fixing a leak because apparently no one's ever told Clint not to pour used cooking oil down the damn drain.

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“…” (Clint @ Bucky)

[Accidental walking in || accepting]

He'd knocked. He'd made sure to knock, if only to alert Lucky; after all, if Clint has his aids out, he won't hear it even if Bucky kicked the door down. But the point is, he had knocked. It is not his fault that the door is unlocked. And it really shouldn't be this awkward, should it, walking in on Barton half-naked? They've slept together, for fuck's sake, this is nothing Bucky hasn't seen before.

But that was before they'd become…whatever the hell they are now, which Bucky still isn't sure about but isn't about to admit it. Anyway, that's not important right now, is it? What is important is maybe not getting caught openly admiring the lean muscle currently on display. He clears his throat, on the off-chance Clint can actually hear him, and leans against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, pointedly looking at a wall. "…Thought you'd be ready by now."

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It's been a long time since Bucky's been able to actually sleep in someone else's presence. Honestly it's been a long time since he's been able to actually sleep; two hour naps aren't exactly a sustainable practice in the long run, but they're what he's been used to for so long.

It's also been a long time since he hasn't slept so lightly that even the popping of a soap bubble would immediately wake him. Steve's fingers in his hair have him starting slightly, looking up in quiet shock for a moment before he feels the faint smile soften his expression. "…Guess I did," he laughs softly, in no real rush to sit up just yet. "Sorry…didn't mean to miss the movie…"

o9﹕ sender falls asleep leaning against receiver . ; @dramatisperscnae

IT'S LATE IN THE EVENING, THE CREDITS OF A MOVIE THEY HAD ON ROLLING. Steve looks over to his side on the sofa , a sleeping Bucky leaning against him. ( this is where life is perfect ) right here with him where they can just take a beat. Gently, he nudges Bucky , reaching to run a hand through his hair to wake him up.

"Hey Buck...Ya fell asleep."

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🍆 (Clint @ Bucky while he's on a mission. payback's a bitch, Barnes)

[Send the boys nudes || accepting]

[text: Birdbrain] Missing me already? [text: Birdbrain] I'll be home in three days.

The mission was supposed to take a week. Bucky's just moved the time-table up.

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📷 Clint @ Bucky

[What's the go-to photo for your muse? || accepting]

"He got sulky because I wouldn't let him break doctor's orders and sneak out of the hospital. Again."

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Bucky if you were a worm do you think Clint would still love you?

[Send the boys unhinged anons || always accepting tbh]

"...Shouldn't you be asking him that?"

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Did all nerdy teenagers just like to ramble, or did the Avengers just somehow attract them? Bucky just shook his head as the kid told him more than he really needed to know. A robot hand, huh? Bucky's own flexed at his side, hidden as usual beneath the sleeve of his jacket and a glove.

"There's a kid in Queens does the same kind of thing, I hear" he said with a shrug. "It's cheaper and easier than buying parts; I'm not sure the challenge factors in for him." But since Robin had Nightwing to at least partially bankroll his activities - at least, so Bucky assumed - money probably wasn't much of an obstacle there. "But as far as the coffee maker is concerned, I wouldn't worry about it too much. Barton's just gonna have to suck it up and buy a new one eventually."

"I'm not doing anything major to it, I generally like to ask first before messing with people's stuff." He shrugged as he continued to very carefully tinker. "Make the wiring a little safer so Clint doesn't suddenly get electrocuted outta nowhere. Tighten up some loosened bolts and connections. I'd try and tackle the rust but I don't have my rust removal stuff with me."

This would have to do. Even little tweaks like this could breathe new life into old tech. He'd replace the wires completely if he had the tools and wires on hand because those were on their last legs. Some soldering and tightening would have to do.

"If I'm making my own stuff with my own supplies, I do whatever comes to mind." A quick pause before adding as an afterthought "Within reason. Nightwing has some restrictions. I made a robot hand last week, though. Control it with an old RC controller I think I found in a dumpster somewhere. I get a lot of my scrap from wrecked villain gear and dumpsters. More of a challenge that way."