Gently

2. Playing Catch-Up

Giant insects in Washington. None of the Avengers were particularly surprised (it wasn't the weirdest thing to be called out for, believe it or not), and jetted out quickly to the sound of Tony spewing insect-related quips. "Should we keep a couple for Hank to talk to? He likes bugs, right? Maybe it could become our mascot; 'The Avengers and Buggy Save the Day!' Got a ring to it, right?"

"That sounds too much like Bucky," Steve said.

"Then we'll call him Buckaroo."

Clint stifled a laugh as Bucky rolled his eyes. "You are not changing my name to 'Buckaroo'. That's a kids' game."

"And it suits you perfectly: a grumpy ass, adored by kids, willing to shoulder a lot of weight, but push you just a little too far –"

"And Iron Man gets knocked out of the sky."

"You're no fun, Barnes. What does Hawkass see in you? Anyway, Buggy's for Hank. Would you really want to be the one to keep Hank from the love of his life?"

Bruce smiled. "I'm pretty sure the love of Hank's life is Jan."

"Does she like bugs?"

"No," Natasha half-growled from the back of the jet.

"How would you know, Natasha? Have we been spending a little one-on-one girl-time with Miss van Dyne?" Silence was his response. "Please tell me she hasn't ripped the arm of the seat out of place… That would be annoying."

Once they'd landed, Captain America dished out his instructions, splitting them up for more effective pest control. He sent Black Widow to find out where the giant, wasp-esque creatures were coming from, telling the Winter Soldier to watch her back from a distance. Iron Man was to act as a distraction – the bugs seemed to target him because he could fly – allowing the rest of them to let loose and "go bug swatting" as they pleased. Whilst Hulk jumped from building to building, squashing as many of the things as he could, Clint kept an eye from the roofs on Captain America, who had taken it upon himself to defend the streets. He'd been happily spearing for some time when a cheer went up over his comms.

"Haha! That makes fifty!"

Pausing, Clint grinned. Of course Bucky would be counting. It was a little game they played sometimes, when the job at hand involved taking out multiple enemies in large quantities, one that had started (predictably) after Clint had introduced Bucky to Lord of the Rings under the pretence of explaining why Tony called him Legolas. Sliding two arrows into place, he hummed smugly as they both found their targets. "Fifty-two," he said.

"What?" A couple of bangs echoed down the line. "Fifty-three!"

"Oh it's on, Gimli."

"Don't call me that."

"Well I'm Legolas – fifty-four – so what else am I supposed to call you?"

"Fifty-five. I don't know, aren't there any other badass sniper-types in those films? Fifty-six."

"Fifty-seven. I suppose there's Haldir."

"He dies!"

"Well it's either him or – fifty-eight – Gimli. Your pick. Fifty-nine."

"Sixty. This conversation isn't over."

"Oh, I doubt it is. Sixty-three."

"What the – fuck off!"

The competition continued for the duration of the 'extermination', as Iron Man called it. Most of the time Bucky would be trailing, prompting Clint to call him Gimli until he pulled his numbers back up in retaliation. He would curse each time Clint got ahead too, making him laugh as he pictured the look of pure irritation on Buck's face. In return, Bucky laughed when he went ahead, but Clint was having too much fun to be bothered – he just grinned and sent a couple more arrows flying. Truth be told, it made him happy when Bucky got ahead; personalised Stark sniper rifle or not, he still couldn't fire more than one bullet at a time.

It didn't take the team long to reduce the swarm once Natasha took care of the nest, but as the number of targets dwindled the two snipers hit a problem.

"One-hundred and forty-two!"

"One-hundred and forty-two!"

There was a pause over the line, and Clint frowned. "Did we just get the same score?"

"Yeah," Bucky replied, sounding a little put-out. "I can't see any more of them."

"Me neither."

There was a crackle in Clint's ear as Iron Man shot past, his voice coming across on the other line. "Yo, Sniper Bros, we're out. Get your good-looking hides back down to ground level, Cap wants to pat us on our backs."

Clint and Bucky met up on the main street, briefly scanning each other for signs of injury before following the trail of dead bugs to the rest of the Avengers. "How often has this happened?" Bucky asked, referring to their earlier conundrum.

"Once? Twice, maybe?" Clint shook his head. "Not often."

"Dammit," he muttered, "I had one up on you as well."

"In your dreams, Buck."

"I thought we agreed not to count the octuplets."

"You agreed, perhaps."

"Well if they did count, we'd still be level," Bucky pointed out, and the two of them slowed to a stop.

After giving it some thought, Clint had an idea. "How about a compromise?"

He was met with a suspicious look. "Alright."

"We call it even here, and I let you be on top tonight?"

Bucky snorted, shaking his head and turning away to try and hide the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You're unbelievable."

Clint wiggled his eyebrows. "Talented or handsome?"

The smile became a smirk. "Both, I guess," Bucky said moving closer, hands coming to rest on Clint's hips as they kissed, light but loving. "Fine. We'll call it even."

The archer grinned. "Love you too, Bu –" The sound of Bucky's handgun going off made him jump, and he snapped his head round in time to see a giant wasp flop limply to the tarmac. Bucky whooped.

"One-hundred and forty-three!"

"Aw, come on – that deal's off!"

AN: Prompt: "something like Legolas and Gimili from LOTR where they're counting how many people they take down."