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ojerasgigantes · 11 days

Text

Muévete bien (que nadie como tú me sabe hacer café) CHT. 9

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton

Characters: Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, PTSD, Alpha!Bucky Barnes, Omega!Clint Barton, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Young!Clint Barton, Explicit Sexual Content, True mates-ish

Words: 46.5k

Fic Summary:

So, nothing dangerous is happening, just so you know." Bruce said reassuringly. "It just seems that you two, genetically speaking, align very well, almost perfectly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that your body is more inclined to want to reproduce with him, because your compatibility level is extremely high.” Bruce explained, and after a moment smiled. “Or would I dare to say, you two are true mates."

AO3 LINK

The club smelled of sweat, alcohol, and sex. The strobing lights were disorienting at best, and blinding at worst, lighting up the swarm of bodies pressed against each other in flashes. It was loud. Loud enough that you could feel the bass beat on the floor. And loud enough that Clint wished he had accidentally left his hearing aids back at the apartment.

Getting into Merlin wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be. They didn’t have an invitation or someone working on the inside, so being let into a club with as much demand as this one, seemed to be a challenge in itself. It didn’t really have a dress code, but in order to fit in, they had to wear similar clothes as the other customers. So, now Clint was forced to wear tight fitting dress pants and a short sleeved button-up shirt to match. He refused to wear long-sleeves in this hellish weather. Those were reserved only for when he was threatened into wearing them to one of Tony’s charity functions.

Anyways, they were lucky that the bouncer had liked what he’d seen, and let them through without a second glance. The security was tighter than they expected, Clint got patted down two times and they almost took his aids, which doubled as a comm device. But some puppy eyes and a little of the ‘woe me’ act, and they let him through.

Clint walked through the crowd easily, happy that it was a Thursday, and that even though the floor was still full, it wasn’t nearly as crowded as it would be if it was the weekend.

He approached the bar, and leaned against it.

“A local beer please.” He asked the bartender, who just nodded at him and left to do his job.

“Gin and Tonic.” Bucky's voice buzzed in his ear.

Clint turned his head to where Bucky was standing, about 10 feet away at the other side of the bar. There were some people standing between them, all different levels of drunk. But it was extremely easy for Clint’s eyes to find him.

Thanks to the crowd that surrounded him, Clint couldn’t smell Bucky at all, especially now with how far they were from each other. The scent of other people invaded his senses, sweet and prominent, typical of those who were looking to get laid. And even though Clint felt like he should feel relieved at the break from Bucky’s scent, it made him feel on edge.

Also forced to wear something less casual, Bucky was wearing both black pants and shirt. He had opted to use the long-sleeve to hide his vibranium arm, and wore some black leather gloves to conceal his hand, matching with the rest of the outfit. The black fabric fitted him perfectly, accentuating his body beautifully. Clint felt his gaze traveling down Bucky’s body, admiring the way the shirt made his back and arms bigger.

After yesterday, something had changed in Bucky’s behavior. Firstly, he now seemed to be comfortable around Clint again. Even more comfortable than before. Now, Bucky would just comment on meaningless things, like the TV being skewed slightly on one side, or how he still couldn’t believe that Clint spoke fluent Italian. The best development of this was that there were no awkward silences to fill anymore, the silences that existed around them seemed natural.

Other more noticeable ways his behavior had changed, was his sudden apparent disregard of personal space. Not in a creepy way, necessarily. More like he wasn’t refraining himself from coming close to him if he needed a cup behind him, or to accidentally brush his hand to his thigh when reaching for the remote sitting next to him. Not that Clint was paying attention to that.

That wasn’t the only thing though, he was scenting him too. Clint might act oblivious, but he knows when someone is leaving his scent on him. It would happen quickly, and in ways that were non invasive. Like a hand on his back asking him to move to the side, their arms brushing while walking, and the back of Bucky’s hand brushing his neck every now and then as he tried to fix the collar of his shirt. Ok, that one wasn’t as quick, but it was the most obvious one.

Clint knew that it was just another part of their whole issue. By scenting him, Bucky was just trying to appease some hindbrain urge of his, telling the competition to stay away. And even though he knew it was most likely an unconscious way to alleviate the need to get on him, Clint still felt somewhat endeared by it.

The bartender came back with his drink, and Clint thanked him with a small nod as he took it in his hand.

“You know,” Clint whispered, eyes back on Bucky, and barely loud enough that it would be picked up by the mic, “you look like you fit right in, all dark and broody...” and he let out a low whistle between his lips.

Flirting shouldn’t be on the table, but the knowledge that Bucky’s rejection had been about something else completely, made something in Clint unwind, made him feel bold.

“Focus, Clint.” Bucky said, and even though he was facing the other way, he could perfectly visualize his smirk.

A sly smile spread on Clint’s face as he nursed his drink.

He turned around, his elbow resting against the bar, eyes scanning the mass of people in front of him. Both had taken their time getting to know the man they were looking for, not wanting to appear suspicious by having to pull up a picture of him every now and then.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t had the luck of spotting him.

“See anyone familiar?” Clint murmured, glass concealing his mouth.

“Not yet.” Bucky answered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw a woman approaching Bucky. And even though he knew he should be paying attention to the crowd, he couldn’t help as his eyes settled on them. The woman was petite, her dark curls flowing freely and all the way down to her waist, a black tight dress hugging her curves in all the right ways.

She leaned close, eyes lidded and playful. Bucky leaned towards her, probably to try and listen to what she had to say. One of her hands covered her lips as she whispered something that he couldn’t workout to Bucky’s ear. The other hand landed on his arm, as if she was trying to balance herself on him.

Clint’s hold on the glass in his hand tightened. The urge to step in was strong enough that he was actively putting effort in staying put.

Bucky tensed, but only barely. A motion so small that only a trained eye could perceive. He stepped back and away, giving a charming smile to the woman in front of him.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you are barking up the wrong tree.” Bucky told her, his voice honey smooth.

Clint’s mind short-circuited, his nape feeling warmer at the nickname falling off his lips. He wondered how it would be if that was directed at him.

Clint took another swig of his drink. It felt necessary.

He watched as the woman gave Bucky a pout and then was pulled away by one of her friends. Bucky’s smile slowly turned more genuine.

“I can feel you staring.” He said.

Clint finally averted his eyes, pretending that the tip of his ears didn’t just turn red. He hummed against the rim of his glass.

“It’s just funny how easy you clam up.”

It took a couple of seconds for the answer to come, “Only when I’m not interested.” Bucky’s voice seemed clear in his ear, back to that same tone he had heard directed at the woman.

Clint didn’t say anything, unsure how to respond. He didn’t turn to look at him, even if he knew Bucky’s gaze was rapt on him.

His attention turned back to the task at hand.

It was only a moment before Bucky’s voice came back, this time urgent and professional.

“Possible asset on your 2.” He said.

Clint’s eyes rapidly tried to find the man in question, taking him less than a second to do so. Tall and imposing, Simon Reyes walked through the crowd so seamlessly that it almost looked as if people were making way for him.

“On it.” He confirmed, and detached himself from the bar, stepping away and into the dancing crowd.

Clint had managed to walk for all of three seconds before a figure stepped in front of him. Thinking it was just a guy with no sense of his surroundings, Clint tried to walk around him. But the man just stepped in front of him again.

Disgruntled, Clint looked past him, making sure that Reyes hadn’t left his sight. Fortunately, he had stopped to talk to some patrons.

The man moved closer, and the smell of inebriated alpha invaded his nose. Clint finally looked at the man blocking his path. The stranger, smelling of lust, greedily looked him up and down, licked his lips, and swayed into his personal space.

“Excuse me.” He said, voice hoarse, breath smelling even worse, “I couldn’t help but notice you when you were standing by the bar, and I wanted to buy you a drink.” His hand shot out to encircle Clint’s waist.

Clint sidestepped, avoiding the touch, and gave his best apologetic smile to him.

“Thank you very much for the offer, but as you can see I already have one.” Clint said, raising the half-full glass in his hand.

Looking past him again, he noticed Reyes was still in the same spot, now speaking quietly to a man. Clint, again, tried to walk around the alpha, doing his best to read their lips. However, he was stopped again, this time by someone grabbing at his wrist.

Clint looked back confused, facing the same alpha, who again breached into his space, this time trying to pull Clint into him.

“What’s happening?” Bucky said in his ear, sounding alarmed.

“Aw come on,” The alpha slurred, and this time yanked Clint towards him, “someone as good-looking as you, all alone in a club like this, must be looking for some company.”

“You have the wrong idea, dude.” Clint told him, anger rising, and he tried to free his wrist, but was met with resistance, “And I’m only going to say this once, keep your hands to yourself.”

The man just chuckled at him, “Are you looking for a chase?” He whispered hotly.

This time, he lowered his head trying to fit his face against Clint’s neck, Clint leaned away. The man still attempted to smell him, his mouth opening as if he was trying to taste it on his tongue.

“I love omegas who can revert to their more primitive ways.” He muttered lowly.

Disgusted, he pushed him away, trying to make as little commotion as possible.

“For fuck’s sak-”

The sudden scent of rage, mixed with the freshness that he already knew very well, brimmed his senses. Clint’s head snapped towards the source, and found Bucky standing next to them, staring the alpha down. His right hand, the metal hand, was clasped tightly around the arm that was holding Clint.

The thick stream of pheromones pumping out of Bucky made Clint want to cause that same commotion he was trying to avoid, just so he could get away from the offending smell contaminating Bucky’s. It was heady, making Clint feel drunk even though he had very little alcohol in his system. The need to calm Bucky down, and at the same time fall to his knees thrummed under his skin.

He felt a shiver run down his spine, and he fought to keep his thoughts from going astray.

It was so strong, in fact, that the alpha faltered, trying to step away from Bucky, but his hand was still firmly on Clint.

“He said to keep your hands to yourself, didn’t he?” Bucky said, a threat thinly veiled under the way he spoke.

The whole situation must have really taken the stranger aback, because at that moment his hold lessened. And Clint snatched his hand back, rubbing his wrist, knowing that the scent of the alpha will not wash away anytime soon.

Clint immediately looked around, trying to find the asset, and saw him entering a room in the VIP area. He was about to follow him, but the sound of the alpha grunting made him turn back to the situation unfolding.

The faint smell of pain reached him.

Bucky was still holding the alpha by his arm. When the man in front of him started struggling to free himself, the scent of fear got stronger. And then Bucky grinned, teeth on show.

Clint tried not to think too hard on why he found that incredibly hot.

The alpha tried to pull his arm free again, but obviously couldn’t.

“The fuck?” The man whispered under his breath, looking shocked. Then he raised his voice, “Let go of me.” He demanded.

Some patrons had turned to look at the scene, and it hit some sense into Clint’s brain.

“Bucky!” Clint yelled, loud enough to be heard over the music, stepped closer to him, trying to get his attention. But Bucky didn’t appear to notice him.

Instead, the man hissed in pain again, pawing at Bucky’s hand in an uncoordinated manner. Clint's eyes jumped around to see that more people were starting to seem interested in their altercation.

“Barnes!” Clint’s voice a little louder.

When Clint got no reaction again, he closed the little distance they had between each other, placing his face on Bucky’s line of sight. Clint’s hand landed on his shoulder for good measure. He only spoke when he managed to catch the other’s eyes.

“Are you done with your dick measuring contest?” Clint asked him, aggravated.

It took him a beat, but Bucky finally met his eyes. However, he only gave him a harsh expression, jaw set, teeth grinding, scent heavy in the air. And he still wasn’t letting the man go.

Clint didn’t cower away, he just stared him down.

“Let go of him.”

Bucky’s gaze went from Clint to the alpha now stinking of fear, and then back to him. Finally, after a couple more grueling seconds, Bucky opened his palm. The alpha quickly took his hand back, retreating fast and away.

“Next time keep your bitch from looking like a slut.” He spat at them as he turned to disappear in the crowd again.

The people who were looking at them, continued with their night, and Bucky’s scent receded. Even after a moment had passed, they were still holding eye contact. Clint watched as Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyebrows scrunching in a way that made him look like a confused, cute puppy.

That specific line of thought made Clint realize he really needed a lobotomy.

Clint took a deep breath and didn’t say anything. He started walking towards the exit, knowing fully that Bucky would be just behind him.

Once they stepped out into the cool air of the night, Clint took a deep gulp of the fresh smell of garbage that any downtown area of a big city had, and actually felt thankful for it. He looked up at the sky, begging for patience to whatever entity had devised this odd punishment.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Clint finally said, turning to face Bucky.

Bucky didn’t meet his eyes, instead, he started rummaging through his pockets. Out of them he pulled out some cigarettes, putting one of them between his lips, before taking out a lighter.

Leaning back into the wall of the building, he busied himself by lighting it, taking a slow drag out of it. The smoke coming out from Bucky’s mouth partially hitting Clint in the face due to the wind. A stray question of whether shotgunning with nicotine instead of weed was a thing ambled through his mind.

Clint was so mesmerized with the sight of it that he almost didn’t notice that Bucky hadn’t answered him.

Almost.

Exasperated, he crossed his arms. Clint felt like he was being treated as if he was weak, as if he wasn’t able to protect himself. And after the conversation they had yesterday, it felt as if he had thrown salt on an open wound.

“Do you think I am not capable of handling something as simple as a creep?” Clint asked, half genuine, half provoking.

Bucky blew smoke and instead of speaking, offered a cigarette to Clint. He blinked, looking down at the pack and then up to Bucky again.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he reached for it. Bucky threw the lighter at him, and he catched it seamlessly. Clint joined him on the wall, and took a slow drag of his cigarette once he had lit it.

The last time he had a cigarette had been a couple months ago. He had felt the need to make his lungs warm enough to forget how cold his body could become, when he had basically been a dead man walking. A time when he was a corpse with no real life beneath its flesh, long gone cold under the lack of blood moving through his veins. The smoke in his chest had made it dissipate for at least a few moments, enough that it had distracted him, enough to bring back the sensation of his fingertips.

His eyes traveled to Bucky, standing next to him, looking decidedly forward. Clint sniffed the air as discreetly as possible, trying to gauge Bucky’s mood, as his body language didn’t give him anything. Under the smell of nicotine, he could still perceive some of that anger, although subdued. More importantly, was the dull smell of anxiety.

Because of that, and Clint’s stupid softening heart, he decided to not say anything.

Patiently, he smoked his cigarette in silence, the music of the club bleeding mutedly through the wall.

It wasn’t until it was almost done that Bucky said something.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Bucky apologized with no preamble, sounding tired, “I acted impulsively, and just-”

Stopping mid-sentence, Bucky held his breath, closing his eyes. As if he was willing away his anger and uneasiness. Or, as if he didn’t want to say the next words.

A moment passed, and Bucky finally exhaled, meeting Clint’s eyes for the first time since they were outside.

“It won’t happen again,” He stated.

Clint raised his eyebrows at him, a bit incredulous. But honestly, he didn’t want to call him out on the improbability of it. Clint wanted to believe that Bucky was deluded enough to think he had the situation under control. In a way, both were lying to themselves, and to each other. There was a desperation to seek normality. Desperation of not wanting to admit that, maybe, their issue was not fixable.

So, Clint just bit the inside of his cheek, and nodded.

He went for his last puff before saying anything, and then dropped it on the ground when he was finished.

“Ok.” Clint used his shoe to smother the fire of what was left of it on the ground.

He stared at it for a few seconds, and the frustration of losing the man they were following rose suddenly and quickly.

Clint grit his teeth, “Thanks for the apology, man.” Sarcasm dripped from his words, “Not that it really fixes anything.”

Bucky didn’t speak, or changed his neutral expression.

The lack of reaction irked Clint, and he felt his irritability grow in less than a second. He turned fully towards Bucky.

“Now, thanks to the little scene you caused, we are going to have to come back tomorrow.” Clint told him, his arms flailing around.

Bucky didn’t flinch at his outburst, but his eyes left his face. Clint thought that he was avoiding eye contact, and his anger just became worse.

“It’s probably going to be even more crowded and we had the asset right there-“

Bucky suddenly took Clint’s flailing arm by the wrist, interrupting Clint mid rant. Clint gasped at the abrupt contact, his annoyance fading quickly, being replaced by confusion. Bucky, eyes focused on the wrist he was holding, brought it closer to him slowly and carefully. As if glued in his position, Clint felt paralyzed, as he watched Bucky sniff at his pulse point, nose barely brushing the skin.

The blood on his body rushed to his face, and Clint felt his neck and cheeks warm up. Bucky appeared surprised by his own action, but didn’t stop. His finger started rubbing circles on the inside of his wrist delicately. Finally, Clint came to the realization that that is the same wrist that the strange alpha had held on to.

At that, Clint felt his blush spread towards his cheeks, knowing that Bucky was trying to get rid of the scent that he left behind.

Bucky shifted, and Clint felt his lips grazing the skin of it. Clint suppressed a gasp, not knowing what to do with himself, how to react. Logically, he knew he should yank back his arm and then kick the shit out of Bucky. But, he really didn’t want that.

No, Clint just really wanted to let that happen.

After a few seconds, Bucky closed his eyes, his eyebrows scrunching just a little.

“This is going to be harder than I thought.” He mumbled, before pulling Clint’s wrist away from his face, and slowly letting it go.

Clint forgot how to speak, or think. So he didn’t process what Bucky said, not until after he was stepping away from him.

“Huh?” It’s the only sensible thing that Clint managed to pull out of his mouth.

Bucky shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair, looking away.

It was incredibly unfair that he could do all that and then act like it was normal.

“Nothing- Look,” Bucky started speaking, “we don’t have to come back tomorrow, we don’t have to leave at all."

Clint chose to ignore the blatant subject change. So, he raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“God knows how many people get into fights in these clubs.” He continued, “We weren’t even escorted out.”

Clint pondered Bucky’s words, looking back towards the entrance of the club. Technically, he was correct, they could slip back in and act like nothing had happened. Clint knew that the asset had disappeared somewhere in the VIP area, and that they’d just have to find a way in.

“You know we don’t have access to the VIP area, right?” Clint told him, out of the need to be contradicting.

“No. But you can get in.” Bucky said. Frowning at him, Clint tried to understand what he meant by that.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Clint asked, truly baffled.

Bucky didn’t say anything, instead he just slowly dragged his eyes down his body. Clint’s mouth fell open at what he was suggesting, and he felt the need to smack him for the second time in the evening.

Bucky smirked at Clint’s offense, and walked towards the entrance of the club.

Clint shut his mouth as he watched him wait for him at the door. Teeth grinding and frown deepening, he followed him.

“I could accuse you of discrimination just for that, you know.” Clint shot at Bucky as he walked by him.

Hearing the deep rumble of Bucky’s chuckle as he crossed the threshold of the building made Clint want to turn around and leave him to do it by himself. Instead, he took a deep breathe, and braced himself for the show he had to put on.

#personal #writing #fanfic #mine #marvel #winterhawk #alpha bucky barnes #omega clint barton #omegaverse #au canon divergence #muevete bien #slow burn #strangers to lovers #true mates

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