Winterhawk Writing

Eighteen

"What do you mean 'Bucky is flirting with me'?" Clint scrunched his nose. "We're friends, Tasha."
"Yeah and Bucky wants to bang you like a screen door in a hurricane.. as a friend, of course." Natasha drawled, not looking up from her phone. "Clint, you know how I'm a spy, yeah?"
"Yeah.."
"And you know how a spy usually- you excluded- has impeccable observational skills?" She continued in the same flat Clint, you're stupid and I know more than you tone. "Trust me on this, I once watched him trip over his own feet when you tried to have a flex-off with Steve."
"Oh. Really?" Clint asked. "But Steve won."
"Bucky's not interested in Steve, idiot." Natasha rolled her eyes, Clint was dense as a rock when it came to romantic endeavors. "Speak of the devil," she said under her breath, taking Clint's complete focus on Bucky as her cue to leave.
Clint felt himself flush as Bucky walked past, earbuds tucked into his ears. It was obvious he had just gotten done at the gym. His hair was pulled in a ponytail that left his front layers (Bucky refused to admit they were basically bangs) framing his sweat-shined face. Clint's eyes -against his will- trailed down Bucky's body to take in his tight tank top (did super-soldiers know shirts come in larger sizes??) and low slung grey sweatpants with what he hoped was a careless once over. Bucky's quirked brow begged to differ and Clint felt his cheeks burn fiercely.
"How often am I brought up in yours and Nat's conversations?" Bucky retrieved a bottle of water, cracking it open without taking a sip.
"We reserve Wednesday for romantic endeavors," Clint said, throwing his last bit of resolve into lame defensive comedy.
"Today's Thursday."
"And Thursday's."
"What about last Sunday?"
"Sunday's, too."
"Mm," Bucky managed to smirk around his gulp of water.  "I see."
"See what?" Clint couldn't help but ask.
Bucky didn't respond immediately, instead he capped his water and slid it across the island to stop in front of the barstool to Clint's left. Bucky followed at a leisurely pace with his hands in his pockets even as he settled into the stool.
"A lot of things, thanks to the serum." Bucky deflected and only the slight twitch at the corner of his lips revealed his humor.
"Ah," Clint said eloquently.
"Mm." Bucky took another sip of his water, side-eyeing Clint the entire time.
Clint was trapped in his gaze and it was only broken when Clint's eyes flickered down to watch muscles in Bucky's throat as he swallowed. When he looked back up again Bucky was still staring him, now with a smug little smirk.
He leaned into Clint's space slowly, just in case the archer pulled away, and it felt like ages before his lips met Clint's. He couldn't help the sharp intake of breath he took at the warmth of Clint's lips on his own and sighed when Clint responded by parting his lips to Bucky's tongue.
"Holy shit," Clint breathed, eyes still closed when they finally pulled apart.
"Mm," was all Bucky could manage and he couldn't make himself pull out of Clint's space. So he hovered and let their noses brush together.
"Kiss me again," Clint demanded as his eyes flew open.
Bucky grinned slowly and leaning forward again was the easiest thing he'd done in 90 years.