AN: This is in response to a prompt from superfuzzybearears on Tumblr: "Clint digging the Bucky!Cap uniform and the massive crotch arrow?"

I don't know why it turned out like this, but hey, sometimes you just gotta go with the flow. :-)

New and Improving

When Bucky had finally been coerced into agreeing to take up the Captain America mantle, a change of outfit had been the last thing on his mind. Sure, he hadn't been particularly enthusiastic about wearing the same costume his best friend had worn so well for years – the shield alone was a lot to live up to – but a re-design had never occurred to him in the slightest. So when Janet van Dyne appeared in his apartment with a sheath of drawings and material swatches, he was well and truly lost for words.

"These are the main ideas," Jan said, brandishing four pieces of paper. "I had more, but Tony vetoed most of them, so this is what was left. Now, you're more than welcome to make suggestions about what you'd like on the suit – after all, you'll be the one wearing it, and if anyone can overpower Tony on this it's you. Don't worry about colour availability, I can get just about anything, and we could probably even get the shield re-painted to match –"

"We're not painting the shield," Bucky said instantly as Clint came up to his shoulder, coffee in hand.

"What're these?" he asked round a mouthful of food, reaching out to take one of the drawings from Jan.

"New Captain America outfits. Bucky's going to choose one."

"Hold on a minute, I never –"

"Not this one," Clint said, waving it between them. "Too many stars." Jan nodded and took it back. "What's with the boots on that one?"

"There were red boots on the old uniform."

"Yeah, but they weren't knee high!"

"Bucky, do you like the knee high boots?"

"No."

"The short-sleeves don't match them, either," Clint added.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, we'll scrap that idea too." Holding out the final two, she asked him sharply, "Which one do you prefer then, Clint? Seeing as you're such an expert all of a sudden."

Clint held up his free hand defensively. "What can I say? I've got an eye for these things."

Bucky shook his head. "Thought I was supposed to be making the choices here?"

"Yeah, well you weren't," he muttered, focused more on the drawings presented to him. After a minute he tapped the right one with his mug. "I like this one. Wouldn't make him look so much like a target and it's a little sleeker. Also digging the arrow thing on the chest, but I gotta say Jan – I already know what's down there. Don't want the bad guys making grabs for it, too."

"You and me both," Bucky mumbled, face going red as Jan laughed.

"I didn't have you in mind during this brainstorm at all, Clint, so stuff your ego back in your quiver and let Bucky have the final say." With that, they both turned expectantly to him, and the weight of what he was doing suddenly clamped down around his neck.

"Do I really have to do this?" he asked. "What's wrong with letting Stark or Fury have the last say?"

Clint raised an eyebrow at him. "You really want Tony Stark to have the final say on what you'll have to wear in public for the rest of your superhero career?"

He conceded the point, and studied the one in Jan's right hand a little more closely. Pointing to an area lightly shaded and labelled 'silver', he asked, "Could we have that bit a different colour?"

She nodded. "Sure. What would you like?"

At first he had no idea, but then he looked to the other design. "I like that blue."

"Then it shall be done!" Jan beamed, collecting up the papers with the chosen outfit on top. When she presented him with material swatches, Bucky just told her to pick something strong but flexible, and she left with the excited promise to have the outfit finished as soon as possible. Once the door closed behind her, he sighed and sagged onto the arm of his couch, pushing a hand through his hair as he tried to process what he'd just agreed to.

"Hey, what's up?"

Clint was watching him with a small frown, and Bucky shrugged. "It's… a lot to take in," he came out with eventually. "I've never had to think about stuff like that before. Steve could –" Steve had been an artist. He'd known exactly what he wanted the Captain America outfit to look like, and had worked closely with Howard Stark to make it perfect. Bucky had always tended to go for practicality over style, with maybe one or two shirts reserved specially for important occasions, and once he'd signed up it was a case of wearing what was handed to him. As the Winter Soldier, he'd worn what was needed. Hell, even now his wardrobe was pretty plain, something Clint, Peter and Jan were constantly trying to remedy. It looked like they'd succeeded.

At his sudden silence, Clint stepped forward and squeezed his shoulder. "You know Jan'll pull through on this," he said reassuringly. "You'll look great in it."

"I just don't see why there needed to be a change in the first place," Bucky admitted.

"Tony's idea," he was told. "New Cap, new look, or something like that. Likened it to re-branding."

He snorted. "So Captain America's a brand now, huh?"

"Not what he meant." Clint stepped round to perch on the end of the couch arm, nudging him in the side lightly. "Don't worry about it, 'kay? We just thought it'd be easier than having to put on Steve's gear, that's all. No expectations of you, not so much of a legacy to follow – y'know, that sort of thing."

Managing a small smile, Bucky leaned into him. "Thanks," he said softly.

Clint kissed his cheek. "Anytime."

Tugging the last glove over his metal hand, Bucky finally dared to lift his head and look at the mirror. The man staring back at him had his face but not a uniform he recognised – mostly black save for the light blue shoulders and chest, the red and white striped triangle on his torso, and the red gloves. He only didn't see them as blood on his hands because Steve had worn red gloves before him, but the connotations were still there. In fact, the whole suit had the shadow of the Winter Soldier woven into it; the dark past beneath the stars and stripes, the odd shine that made it look faintly metallic… Maybe that wasn't what others would see, but Bucky didn't exactly see Captain America staring back at him. Had Jack Monroe ever had this problem?

He was about to take the thing off when there was a knock at the door. "You nearly done in there?" Clint called through the door. "Come on, I wanna see what it looks like too!"

"Gimme a sec," he called back, then turned back to the mirror. Reaching behind him for the cowl (which had small white wings on that he hadn't yet ripped off because he didn't expect them to last very long anyway), he hesitated, deciding that he wasn't quite ready to see that 'A' on his forehead just yet. Then, taking a deep breath, he stepped outside the bedroom.

Clint stared. Clint stared for a long time. A very long time. Bucky watched, heart racing, as his eyes roamed up and down his body, jaw slightly open, and when he finally came out with an eloquent "Whoa," Bucky cringed.

He tugged at the collar. "It's a bit shiny…"

"It's great."

Bucky blinked, slowly asking, "You think?"

"Yeah, I do." Clint stepped forward, hands reaching out to touch the suit. As he ran his fingers over the star and stripes, Bucky briefly resented that Jan had made it a one-piece and Clint couldn't slip those fingers under the hem of a shirt or inside a waistband (maybe she had had Clint in mind whilst making it). "How does it feel?"

Shifting on the spot, Bucky shrugged. "Comfortable, I guess. It's a little, uh, snug, but I can still move –"

"Not what I meant," Clint interrupted, and when Bucky just looked at him in confusion, he reiterated: "How do you feel?"

"Oh." He blinked, thinking back to his thoughts in front of the mirror, and shrugged one shoulder. "I think I'm still a little daunted by what it all means, but… I could grow to like it." Giving a crooked smile, he added quietly, "I want to."

Clint grinned at him. "Well, I think you're one of the sexiest superheroes I've ever seen," he declared, and kissed Bucky deeply before he could respond. "Knew I made a good choice."

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "You made a good choice?" he echoed. "Sorry, who asked for it to be blue instead of grey?"

"A very good decision, I can't deny – but don't expect me to say it brings out your eyes or anything."

"Then don't expect me to agree to uniform sex. I'm still working out how I'd go about taking a piss in this thing."

"Maybe that's what that arrow shape is for."

"I seriously hope you're the only person who sees it as a directional arrow."

"Me too. I meant what I said about people grabbing –"

"Stop hanging out with Stark, please."

Clint snickered, and Bucky leaned in to kiss the smirk off his face. "Hey, you wanna get changed so we can go out for dinner?"

Bucky did. "Where're you thinking?"

"That restaurant you really liked last time we went. You know, with the posh pancakes that had way too much syrup."

He grinned, hardly able to stop himself stealing one more kiss. "Sounds perfect."

The call had come in that the Wrecking Crew were causing their usual amount of carnage just outside Central Park, and Bucky was finalising the plan of action as they arrived over the site. Around him, the team nodded and agreed to his orders without complaint. He was surprised – he had expected at least one or two arguments or accusations that Steve would've done it differently (though it was Steve he was trying to emulate), but as the Quinjet began its descent and everyone prepped themselves for the last time, he began to think that maybe he could be a leader. The uniform – still too new, still too shiny – might have helped with that, but that didn't make him feel any easier in it. Would civilians recognise the motifs? Would they see him as an imposter? Would they demand the old outfit back?

Waiting by the bay door, Bucky felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked back to see Hawkeye smiling at him. The support was unspoken between them, but it was comforting to know it was there, and he returned the smile as best he could. As the ramp began to lower, Bucky turned away and pulled the cowl over his head for the first time. "Alright, let's go!"

Captain America stepped out onto the streets of New York, and the Avengers followed right behind him.

"Did I tell you how goddamn sexy you looked today?"

Bucky laughed against Clint's lips. "Yeah, a few times."

"Eh, I'm gonna say it again."

"Thought you were in the middle of showing me," he said, flipping them over so he could lean over Clint and trying to kiss him through the mattress.

"What happened to – no sex with – the uniform on?"

He hummed, stretching out along Clint's side and running a gloved hand down his chest. "There are things we can do before it has to come off." Unfortunately, the uniform took a while in coming off, and then it only came off out of necessity rather than desire; the Wrecking Crew never liked to leave the Avengers without a few bruises, and Bucky – trying to prove himself as well as test the new suit out – had come away with marginally more than the others.

"Bruised ribs," Clint deduced, poking Bucky in the side none too gently. "Then there's that huge one on your shoulder, one on your lower back, these ones on your hip – Jesus, Bucky, where aren't you bruised?"

"Face?"

"Uh, no, one on your jaw."

"Huh." That's why it was sore. He'd thought it was Clint.

"Want me to kiss 'em better?" Clint joked.

Bucky crooked a smile at him, recognising the pain now that the adrenaline was fading. "Couldn't do that with the uniform on."

"Hey, c'mon already – the suit's good."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, staring at it on the floor. An old conversation drifted to his mind, bringing with it a tight feeling in his chest. "Guess it'll grow on me."

"Good." Leaning forward, Clint gently kissed the bruise colouring Bucky's jaw, working his way up until their lips met for a long, tender moment. "You're sexy out of the uniform too, by the way."

"Right back at you, kid."