Chapter 6- It's Alright to Let Go
Steve and Bucky burst out of the club, giggling to each other like they used to when they were kids. Not used to being drunk, it was a strange experience. The serum had stopped that, but Bruce had created a concoction of some kind that had allowed their chemical inhibitions to drop temporarily. So, at Natasha's insistence, Bucky and Steve had ventured out to a seedy club, vowing to drink as much as they could and dance as much as they could. The alcohol had really loosened Steve up. He and Bucky found themselves making out on the dancefloor, it was hot and heavy and not exactly something they had counted on. The crowds around them loved it, but they had quickly agreed they were just drunk and caught in the moment. Bucky had found another guy not too long after that and it was pretty serious. Steve guessed they were planning to go home together.
He didn't know if jealousy was the word exactly. Bucky had dated people when they were teens, while Steve had been ridiculously in love with him. Steve had been flirting with Peggy during the war, and Bucky had confessed his own jealousy. Steve supposed it was just because they were best friends, soulmates, and seeing each other with someone else was just a little jarring.
Or Steve was just overthinking due to the alcohol.
When their Uber finally pulled up to the curb, Bucky slapped Steve on the back.
"Try not to fall asleep, buddy. And remember where you live."
Steve mumbled the address to himself.
Bucky pulled Steve in for a kiss. Steve didn't pull away, but he was shocked at the intimacy when Bucky's…bedfellow(?) was right there watching them. When they broke away, Steve turned to the slightly younger boy.
He shrugged. "It's hot as fuck."
Bucky winked at him as he got into the Uber, slinging his arm around the boy and walking the other direction.
Steve pretty much fell into the cab. He brought his legs up into the vehicle and tried to sit straight.
"Someone's had a good time," a distinctly familiar voice rang in Steve's mind. He could still hear the pumping music of the club buzzing there too, so it took him a few seconds to recognise the voice. Then he looked into the front seat.
"Clint?"
"Hey Steve," Clint chuckled.
"You're an Uber driver now?" Steve shook his head to try and clear it. The ringing reminded him of the war, the minutes after an explosive would go off.
Clint shrugged. "Ever since New York, the battle I mean, I've been suffering from insomnia. Thought it would be a way to make use of the time I spend awake at night. Plus I'm making some money. It's nice to feel useful."
Steve nodded. "Makes sense." Steve put his head against the headrest and his eyes fluttered closed.
"Hey," Clint snapped his fingers, "stay awake, Rogers. I may know your address already but I don't want you choking on your own vomit in the back of my Uber. You'd have to pay for that, you know."
Steve lightly slapped his own face and blinked quickly. "I'm good."
"So you and Bucky huh?" Clint smirked.
Steve waved him off. "Nah." The sound was long and drawn out and lacked all of the vocal characteristics that Steve's voice usually possessed. The strength, the certainty, the seriousness. Clint was happy to see and hear him relax a little bit. He even looked less tense.
But he still looked good, Clint could not deny that. The muscle shirt he was wearing did wonders for his build. No wonder Bucky was all over him.
Focus, Clint. You can't crash a car that has Captain America in it. What would people say?
"We just kissed a few times and he went home with someone else."
Clint took a sharp left and Steve smacked into the window. The driver chuckled.
"So you never did that stuff with Bucky back when you were teenagers?"
Steve grinned. "People really believe that, huh?"
Clint shrugged. "Can you blame 'em? Two hot guys labelled as best friends that would die for each other? It's not a huge leap in logic."
Steve blinked quickly. "You think I'm hot?"
Clint almost did crash the car right then and there. Finding Steve Rogers wrapped around a tree would not be a good headline the following morning, that much he knew.
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Suppose I never really think about that stuff."
"Maybe you should."
Steve slapped himself again. "About Bucky?"
Clint clenched his jaw as Steve stretched out in the backseat. "If you want. Won't do you much good tonight though."
Steve leans back, knees drawn and runs a hand down his body. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Driving," Clint teased. "Why, what do you want me to be doing tonight?"
Steve shrugged. "We live at the same place. It would be easy to…"
"Are you propositioning me?"
Steve shot upwards, wincing. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I shouldn't have said anything."
Clint took a familiar right turn. They were close to the Tower.
"I believe I brought it up. You've done nothing wrong, Steve."
Steve leaned forward, putting his head on the edge of the back of Clint's seat. He inhaled deeply. "You smell good."
A shiver rippled across Clint's body. "Well, you smell like tequila."
Steve groaned. "Oh, no more tequila."
"We're almost home, then you can have whatever you want."
"I don't want tequila."
Clint grinned as he tried to keep his concentration on the road. "Then what do you want?"
Steve placed his hands on Clint's shoulders, snaking them around the driver's seat headrest. Clint felt his breath hot and heavy on his earlobe. Steve flicked out his tongue against Clint's ear and leaned in to nibble it.
"You're gonna make me crash this thing," Clint murmured. "I'm going to need to be alive if you're gonna pound me into the mattress."
Steve reluctantly sat back, palming his crotch. "God, I'm getting hard already." Steve met Clint's watchful eyes in the rearview mirror. "Eyes on the road, Barton," he uttered playfully.
"Such a tease," Clint barked, pressing down on the pedal just a little harder.
Steve watched as the tower came into view, chuckling as Clint raced up to the parking gate and flashed his S.H.I.E.L.D identification. The gates swung open and Clint completed the greatest parking manoeuvre of his entire life. Natasha would often chastise him for not being able to park properly, but that wasn't the case here, as the car surged into the parking spot effortlessly. Clint stopped the car and turned off the ignition, smiling as he heard the sound of Steve's seatbelt unbuckling no sooner than he had halted the engine.
Steve stumbled out of the car, lucky that Clint had done the same in time to catch him before he crashed to the pavement and did some temporary damage.
"Falling for me before we've even kissed," Clint grinned as he held Steve against the car to secure him in his footing.
Steve reached up and caressed Clint's hairless face. "About time we changed that, don't you think?"
Their lips crashed together earnestly, as though trying to permanently attach themselves to each other.
Somehow, they managed to get up to Clint's floor in the tower with ease, swearing Jarvis to secrecy in the elevator lest they be the butt of the jokes the following morning.
Clint unlocked his bedroom door and threw Steve's belt across the room. Steve tugged at the waistband of his jeans.
"When the hell did you take that?"
"I'm a spy, man, it's what we do. Plus, I kinda grew up pickpocketing. Nimble fingers."
"We'll see about that," Steve mumbled and pulled Clint into yet another searing kiss.
Clint found himself not really minding the taste of an assortment of alcohol on Steve's tongue. When said tongue was pushing past his lips and exploring his mouth, it was hard to complain. And when that tongue belonged to Clint's childhood crush and current authority figure, it was even harder to complain.
Steve manoeuvred them onto the bed and Clint straddled his waist, pressing kisses to his neck and exposed collarbone.
"God, you're so good at this," Steve commented.
Clint grinned his gratitude and bit down gently onto Steve's chest. "If you think I'm good at this, just wait."
Clint pressed his lips down to Steve's body once more, only to recoil at the pure, white-hot heat radiating from the skin.
"Shit," Steve groaned, lightly pushing Clint off him and writhing on the bed.
"What the hell is happening?"
Steve's hand shot to his shirt and the moisture that was rapidly dripping from him. "Just help me get this off." Clint would've smirked but the "Please" that Steve rasped afterwards was enough to tell him that playtime was over.
Clint rushed over to him and literally tore the material from his body. "These too?" He gestured to Steve's jeans.
Steve bit his lip but nodded, a mixture of confusion and pain lighting up his face.
Clint popped the button of Steve's jeans and tugged them down, shocked and aroused to see that the man was going commando. For good measure, he pulled off Steve's damp socks and threw them to one side, leaving the man completely naked. It would've been the hottest thing Clint had ever seen, if not for the fact that Steve was curling up in pain, clutching his head.
By the time the pain subsided, the mood had sobered a lot.
And so had Steve, apparently.
Steve sat up, quickly realising that he was naked.
He scrambled out of the bed and reached for his jeans.
Only to lose his footing in his haste and tumble onto the floor.
Clint heaved him up onto the bed and sat next to him. "Steve, slow down."
Steve sighed. "I guess that's my body chemistry realigning."
Clint nodded. "I guessed as much. You probably experienced a hypersensitive hangover. The headache, the sweating, all part of the deal."
"I don't know why people drink."
Clint shook his head fondly. "Didn't you have fun tonight?"
He could tell that Steve wanted to resist, but a potent smile took over his face.
"I've fought for freedom my entire life and now I know what it feels like."
Clint's instinct was to put a hand on Steve's arm but it felt wrong with him so underdressed. "It's pretty great. Obviously, your hangovers are a lot worse, but maybe Bruce can find a solution to that."
"I don't want to overdo it, though."
"Maybe you just need to find other ways to feel free."
Steve's brow shot up at that. "Oh yeah? Got any suggestions?"
Clint's eyes widened. "I didn't mean…"
"Didn't you?"
"Honestly, maybe subconsciously. Probably just wishful thinking."
"Well, your wish was almost granted tonight. If I'd been drunk a little longer…"
Clint ducked his head, fully knowing that their dalliance was entirely down to alcohol, not enjoying the reality being smashed over his head like a piece of glass.
Steve spotted his ennui immediately and gasped. "No! Not that I wouldn't have…I'm doing this terribly. There's no wonder I haven't had sex since the forties."
If this moved Clint in any way, he didn't react.
Steve sighed despondently. "I just mean that I rarely have the courage to do that stuff. Being intimate with someone in that way, well not to take the fun out of it, it's scary for me."
Clint nodded because he did get that. It had taken him a while to come to terms with other people touching him after the childhood he had endured.
"I grew up in a life where touching wasn't common, unless I was being beaten up. The only affection I got was my mother's hugs or Bucky sweeping me off the floor after a fight gone wrong. There was no opportunity for romance. And sex without romance wasn't an option."
"You don't have to explain. We were in the moment. If there's another moment like this one, we'll seize it. If not, no big deal."
"But I want there to be," Steve assured him. "You're beautiful, Clint."
He'd never heard that before. He'd had handsome a few times and hot, but never beautiful.
It was so earnest and well-meaning that Clint would be lying if he said it didn't bring a small tear to his eye.
Not wanting to alert Steve to it, he didn't move to wipe it away, letting it roll down the cheek that was furthest away from the other man.
"You think so?" Clint blushed.
"I'd be blind not to. But it's something that requires conversation. I don't know if you enjoy having sex without strings, but I don't know if it's something I could do.
"And I'm not judging," Steve was quick to add. "There were all kinds of misconceptions about that before the ice. People didn't talk about sex, basically ever. We knew enough to be educated on the basics, but nothing recreational."
Clint finally wiped the tear away. "Yet you talk so easily about it."
"I've been alive again for two years now and things like this are getting easier. When I first woke up, or defrosted as Tony likes to say, one of the agents assigned to my care made a passing flirtatious comment and I literally said nothing and walked away. I didn't know how to handle it, but I'm getting better."
"You're one hell of a kisser, I can tell you that."
Steve pursed his lips, his turn to be embarrassed, and smiled. "Well…thanks? Is that the right thing to say? I don't know. I—." Steve gasped. "I'm now realising I'm butt ass naked on your bed."
"Yes, you are."
"I should redress."
"You don't have to. If you're comfortable, I have no issue with it."
"Yeah, I bet you don't," Steve smirked. "I…I'm not completely comfortable, but this is a way to make myself comfortable right?"
"I don't know about that," Clint hummed.
Steve cleared his throat. "Would it…um…would it be okay if I slept here?"
"Decided to cut the strings already?"
"Not quite yet," Steve chuckled. "I'm thinking that just sleeping in a bed with someone might help me feel more comfortable with that sort of thing."
Clint shrugged. "You're good to crash if you want. I don't mind being a test subject."
"Hey, it's not that. Clint, once I get my head figured out, I'm going to do ungodly things to you." Steve grinned at the way Clint hissed under his breath. "But until then, you're the person it feels easiest to be around. Well, besides Bucky, but that's not really an option."
"Just to let you know, I sleep naked too. Is that a problem?"
Steve dragged his eyes up and down Clint's body, his grin still toying on his lips. "Definitely not a problem."
Clint swatted the impossibly hard bicep next to him and stood up. "Okay. Then I guess I'll…undress."
Steve slowly got underneath the bedsheets and lay back, watching as Clint stripped off his clothes, folding his shirt, pants, boxer briefs, and socks onto the chair by the desk. They were tomorrow's problem.
Clint walked around the bed to the other side, climbing in gracefully and getting into a comfortable position on his back, unsure of how Steve slept and wanting to position himself accordingly.
Clint clapped his hands twice and extinguished the lights.
"I've only ever slept in a bed with another person once."
"Let me guess. Bucky," Clint grinned even though Steve couldn't really see him.
"Yeah," Steve whispered. "It was a cold winter and I was at risk of developing pneumonia. It was simple survival tactics."
"Bet neither of you minded too much."
"Well, I was harbouring a very confusing crush on him at the time so it wasn't the easiest night's sleep I've ever had. Much better than the seventy year ice bath nap I took though."
Clint burst into laughter, covering his mouth to stifle the sound.
Steve chuckled too, glad that Clint found him amusing.
"Did you enjoy being held by him?"
"I enjoyed remaining alive."
Clint shook his head, done with beating around the bush. "Would you like me to hold you, Steve? Or would you like to hold me? Or none of the above?"
Steve shuffled so his back was to Clint. "I think I'd quite like to be held, Clint."
Clint dragged a finger up Steve's arm before wrapping his arm around Steve's waist, pulling the larger man into his body. "I want to warn you about what might happen."
"I'm not dense, Clint, I know you might get hard."
Clint hitched a breath at that. "I want you to know that it's not my way of pressuring anything."
"I know," Steve smiled, even though his back was to Clint. "It's an autonomous response to physical intimacy. It might catch me a little off guard, but it's definitely not the most off-putting thing I've ever heard."
"Do you even realise how great your ass is?"
"Tony tells me every time I get into my Cap suit."
Clint clicks his tongue. "That's too much to unpack tonight. But it's seriously hot."
"Well, thanks. Hopefully, it won't be long before you get to play with it."
Steve barely stifled a huge yawn that reminded both of them of just how exhausted they were. It was bordering on five in the morning and they were still awake. Clint was dealing with the diminishing sex hormones that raged within him, while Steve was feeling the after-effects of a day-long hangover condensed into about five minutes.
"You can fall asleep. I've got you," Clint whispered in his ear.
Steve made cute sleep noises and nestled deeper into the already comfortable pillows (only for the best for a Tony Stark establishment yada yada yada), tightening Clint's hold on him. "You've got me. You've got me. You've got me."
Steve repeated it like a mantra, as though reminding himself that he wasn't in any danger, until the whispers faded and melded into a soft breathing sound. Clint was glad that Steve was at peace, even though he had already dealt with the fact that he himself wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.
He was perfectly content to hold Steve for as long as he needed so that the man could rest.
And anything that happened after that night…well, that was a different story altogether.
