Chapter Text
Clint Barton is annoying.
It’s one of the first things that Bucky realized. It honestly baffled the hell out of him the more he thought about it.
He’d been on the run for nearly a year before finally giving up the quest to be some kind of lone wolf who took down all of HYDRA single-handedly. It had been a dumb idea the more he thought about it, and with Steve hot on his trail, it just made sense.
Turn himself in, hope for leniency. He could give over what he knew and maybe, after he’d endured whatever punishment for his crimes, he could eventually help. It had only taken three months before Steve had seemingly fought off every government official who was out for blood.
Another two months after that was spent dumping every bit of information he could scrape out of his brain. He’d thought that had been bad. Hour after hour spent reciting everything he knew. Codes, locations, communication methods. Even recounting every mission that came to mind, admitting to what he could recall to help them build an idea of just how many pies HYDRA had their fingers in.
None of that had prepared him for the absolute hell that was Hawkeye. Moving into the tower was meant to be a reprieve. He’d have his own space (sharing a floor with Steve of course), privacy (as much as possible with an AI butler watching everything), and some form of freedom (limited to common areas of the Tower unless escorted by at least one Avenger).
In his infinite wisdom, Steve had decided the best way to introduce a skittish killing machine who was recovering from brainwashing, was to rip the bandaid off all at once. Instead of the training floor that Steve had sworn he was going to show Bucky, the elevator door opened into the chaos that was ‘Team Dinner’. He’d already known everyone, from a combination of the dossiers he’d read and the stories Steve had told him.
If only he could stop the HYDRA files from springing to the front of his mind.
“Everybody, I thought it was about time that Bucky joined us for a meal.” The use of his ‘Captain’ voice was nearly enough to make his eyes roll out of his head, but Bucky at least paid attention to the reactions.
Sam (Samuel Thomas Wilson, Codename: Falcon. Airforce Pararescue, Medic. Negligible Threat) was standing at the stove, and simply looked up long enough to crack a bit of a smile “Well his ass better like what I’m cooking,It’s too late to pivot now.”
“Aw, C’mon Birdbrain, Maybe all the time spent as a Freezie-Pop killed the man’s spice tolerance,” Tony (Anthony Edward Stark, Codename: Iron Man. Responsible for much of the Tech of the team. Armor capable of mass destruction. Priority Target) had chimed in, looking up from the end of the island. He’d been leaning over the shoulder of Bruce (Robert Bruce Banner, Codename: The Hulk. Transforms into Gamma Radiated Beast when agitated. Disengage Immediately) to read something on a table. The other scientist simply smiled a long suffering smile.
“Tony, I thought we talked about filtering your thoughts. What happened to taking just one second to think about the words that were going to come out of your mouth before you said them?”
“Waste of time, Big Guy. Absolute waste of time.”
“Think of all the seconds he’d waste in a day, stopping himself from saying something stupid.” Bucky let his eyes drift towards the source of the voice. She was sitting comfortably on a reading chair in what looked like a living room off to the side.
Natalia. (Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Code name: Black Widow. Red Room Traitor. Eliminate from Afar, Do Not Engage At Close Range) He’d known, of course. How could he not know? He knows that she goes by Natasha now, but she'll always be Natalia to him... Seeing her tightened something in his chest he hadn’t anticipated.
“See? Red Scare over there gets it.” Tony continued without seeming to pick up the insult.
“Thor’s currently Off World, so you won’t be able to meet him. Does anyone know where Barton is?” Steve seemed a little concerned, as he practically shoved Bucky along, further into the space. Further away from the safety of retreating into the elevator, and running away as fast as he could…
It was all so unnervingly domestic that it took some time to process, to reconcile the information in his head. Tony was a billionaire tech genius, and most of his public appearances were in artfully disheveled suits, or literal battle armor. And here he was in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of flannel sleep pants, looking comfortable and relaxed.
Sam was wearing an apron with a cartoonish rendition of a pig’s backside, declaring ‘I Smoke Big Butts And I Cannot Lie’.
Natalia was wearing mismatched fuzzy socks! Why was one purple and the other red?
Just as he was considering bolting from this perfectly comfortable scene, a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Beep Beep, You’re a better wall than a door, my guy.” And with no regard for his personal space, Bucky found himself pushed lightly to the side, bumping into Steve to make room for someone to slide past.
Nobody had touched him in anything but a clinical sense, except Steve. In the last five months, even Steve had been careful when he touched him. Flinched away from the arm, hesitated for anything else.
Bucky’s attention was locked onto what he assumed must be the final member of the team.
Clint Barton. (Clinton Francis Barton. Codename: Hawkeye. Choice of Weapon is a Bow and Arrow. No threat)
And yet somehow he’d managed to not only sneak up on him, but he touched him before Bucky knew he’d been there. It was probably just the anxiety of the moment, he was overwhelmed. That’s all.
Because there’s no way that the man in front of him had snuck up on him. He was wearing a pair of faded purple sweat pants that looked like the elastic was clinging on for dear life, a t-shirt that looked like it was advertising something called ‘Dog Cops’, and…
Mismatched red and purple fuzzy socks. That realization had been enough to pull his attention back to Natalia, who seemed intent on not acknowledging anything that was not her book at the moment.
“C’mon, Sam, I thought we were Bird Bros. We’ve gotta stick together, right?”
“It’s almost done, Clint, Damn. Sit down and stop trying to stick your finger in the mac and cheese.” The sound of an impact, Sam slapping Clint’s hand away.
“Aw man, you’re no fun. This is why Hawks are better than Falcons. Everyone knows that.” When he turned around, Bucky got a proper look at the man. A bruise was forming along his jaw. Two butterfly sutures above his eyebrow and a Smurfs bandaid over the bridge of his nose.
“Clint. This is Bucky Barnes…” Steve was trying to get through an introduction, but…
“Yeah, I know. I actually read the files this time, Cap. I had a lot of time to kill, avoiding doing all the paperwork for that mess in Cairo, so I figured, hey, why not do research on my new neighbor? In a totally not creepy normal kind of way. It’s called due diligence, right Tasha? I already know everything I need to know about your bestest buddy. It's cool though, It's awesome to meet the second best marksman in the world, Is he cleared for weapons yet? Wait, We can do Laser Tag. Laser tag isn't weapons.” Did he ever shut up? Bucky wasn’t even sure he’d seen the guy pause to take a breath.
“What is that supposed to mean?” It was the first thing Bucky had said since he’d entered the kitchen, the words practically growled out.
Why did Barton have to bring up that he wasn't cleared to be armed? Was he stupid?
And yet the blond seemed unfazed, unaware of any of it. “Cap trust you. That’s all I needed to know.” The sincerity was almost as upsetting as the nonchalance of the touching. “Well, that’s not all I need to know. You gotta chime in on this, Bucket. Hawks or Falcons. Who’s the coolest bird?”
The nickname irritated him even further, but before he could chime in, dinner was served. Cajun mac and cheese, blackened shrimp, and cornbread. Natalia deigned to join them, settling down next to Clint. Everyone seemed grateful for something to focus on, and the food smelled fantastic.
They all sat around the kitchen island, Clint was suitably distracted from the question as they all settled in. Instead, he just kept talking. Bucky kept waiting for it to drift into background noise, but it seemed like Clint never ran out of things to say.
Bucky tried not to roll his eyes when the blond archer added hot sauce to the mac and cheese. The silent challenge on his face when he held out the hot sauce was enough to inspire Bucky to add some himself. It was a little much, but he wasn’t about to admit that, his pride wouldn’t let him.
“Never seen anybody else spice up Sammy’s food.” Clint’s tone is soft, smooth. “Next you’re gonna act like you can eat more bowls than I can.” That smirk. It’s that god damn smirk that sets it off.
Bucky’s competitive nature is nobody’s business but his own. If it happens to be the reason that he ends up getting up and stalking over to get a second bowl just after Clint? That’s his own business.
It isn’t his fault if Barton thinks he has any chance in hell keeping up with a super soldier’s appetite.
It turned out, he could more than just keep up. Bucky tapped out after four bowls, and tried not to seethe when Clint had a fifth.
Clint Barton was so fucking annoying.