Unmade Men
A Word: Prompt for love and hate for Winterhawk.
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Clint loves the taste of blood when they kiss. A violent clash of teeth and lips that sucks all the air right out of their lungs. Sucks the fire of their anger right up and cranks the heat even higher until the only thing that can quench it is bare skin.
He loves that almost as much as he loves the way Bucky rises to his bait. Snapping back with words and fists every time Clint pushes further than he should. He loves the fact that Bucky will bait him right back. Jabbing every single button Clint has until they're breaking walls and leaving droplets of blood on the ground everywhere.
He loves the way Bucky goes silent on missions. His words becoming shorter and gruffer when the mask goes on and he seems like an entirely different person even though he's really not. Despite what the look in Steve's eyes might say, Winter Soldier is still Bucky, and Clint loves the fact that he can see what the rest of the team so very clearly misses.
He loves that he can let go then during those missions. Can go as quiet as he needs to be without Tony needling him for witty banter. Can simply do what needs to be done as efficiently as possible and not worry about his actions being questioned. That he can jump down from his vantage point and turn a long distance sniping mission into an up close and personal fight if he feels like it. He loves that Winter Soldier will just roll with it and have his back no matter what.
Clint hates the quiet times though. The times between missions and fights and fucks when he's sacked out on the couch zoning on television, and doesn't even realize Bucky's there until something breaks his zen. Gets his attention away from the TV long enough to notice Bucky's shaggy hair brushing against his arm while the man himself sleeps on the floor. Back pressed up against the couch and head angled towards Clint.
He hates the way Bucky sneaks up on him sometimes. Not with any intent of harm or he'd be thrown across the room, but with an intent that gets Clint pulled in by a warm, fleshy arm and a chaste kiss pressed to the back of his neck. The way a few playful words are whispered in his ear. No trace of any sort of bite at all in the endearments Bucky calls him.
He hates the look that gets in Bucky's eyes sometimes when they're both sweaty and panting, or even when they're not doing anything at all but sitting across the room from each other. It's a soft look. Something tender and gentle that isn't anything that Clint signed up for when they started this thing between them.
He hates, above all else, the way his own breath goes short on seeing that look. The way he aches to reach out for it and pull it in close. To nurture it and make it stay. To make Bucky stay.
Clint hates it all, but he loves it too much to even think of giving it up.
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