Winterhawk Writing

31

Bucky sometimes gets lost. He withdraws into his own head, his therapist calls it a coping mechanism. Sometimes people find him standing in the middle of a room, eyes glazed and distant. It's best to guide him to sit somewhere and gently talk to him to guide him back into the present. He can lose anywhere from thirty seconds to hours at a time.
Clint is always the best at drawing him out of his thoughts. Somehow knowing what to talk about and which boundaries to never cross. He's also the only one allowed to touch Bucky while he's lost without getting a black eye. Steve won't admit he's jealous but Bucky's known the guy for 90 years. He's jealous.
Getting lost happens a lot less now. Bucky credits it to the therapy, honestly. Still, when it does happen, everyone knows to get Clint. Fewer injuries, better outcomes for all parties.
"Hey, Buck. Me and the rest of the team are thinking about ordering food and doing a movie night. What type of pizza are you feeling?" Clint shuffles through the fridge, coming out with two beers. "Buck?" He asks again when there's no response. "Dude, I know you're on the couch."
Clint pops his head out of the kitchen. "Aw, Buck, no."
He sets the beers quietly on the coffee table and sits next to Bucky, who's leaning against the arm of the couch while staring listlessly into space. It's been... Clint counts the weeks up in his head- about six weeks since Bucky's last episode.
"Hey, Sweetheart, we're in Stark tower right now, okay? In the living room on your favorite couch," as he talks, Clint starts to gently caress his fingers up Bucky's forearm. "It's about five pm and you were just reading.." Clint picks up the fallen books and sighs. So that's what triggered the episode. "You were reading a World War II book, dumbass. You should know better but you have stubborn streak that can out-do Steve."
Bucky's lips twitch and his back becomes less rigid. Clint continues talking, about what they ate for breakfast, Bucky's latest favorite song, mundane little things.
"I'm not a dumbass," is the first thing he says when he comes to, about five minutes later.
"Babe, you really are. You know what triggers you." Clint flicks him gently on the forehead.
"I just- six weeks. I thought maybe I was ready." Bucky looks so sad that Clint has to grab him by his shoulders and tug him into a hug.
"It's okay, do you know how long you were there?" Clint rubs his hand slowly up and down his spine.
"No." Buckys voice is muffled against Clint's shoulder. "Babe is new."
"What?"
"You called me babe." Bucky says. "Usually it's sweetheart."
"Oh." Clint can feel the heat in his cheeks. He hadn't even realized he'd started 'sweetheart'. "I, uh, use pet names on everyone."
Bucky pushes back and looks Clint in the eye, gaze flicking down momentarily to take in his blush. He smiles and brings a hand up to feel the warmth of Clint's cheek.
"Of course you do, love."
And that was new. Bucky's smile only turns more mischievous.
"Bucky," Clint has to whisper, the moment is too delicate for anything louder. "Can I..." God, it's so hard to get out.
Bucky tilts his head. "Yes?"
He can't just say it. Clint's never been a talker, a good one at least. He can always ramble during a mission, in a risky situation to delay whatever an enemies planning. Clint's always done his best work through action. So he does.
Bucky's lips are warm and plush, with a hint of salt. When Clint pulls back, he sees the small bowl of pretzels. Bucky's eyes stay closed for another few seconds before the slate grey appears again.
"Was that okay?" Fuck, he's never been so terrified. He's been held at gun point, pushed off buildings, and nearly drowned but this, this is the hardest, scariest thing he's ever attempted.
Bucky's smile is so beautiful and brilliant that it takes Clint's breath away, as it has a million times before. "You're so beautiful." Clint whispers.
And Clint didn't even think it was possible for that smile to become more radiant, but it does. "So beautiful."