Gently

4. It's Like This...

Telling the others they were in a relationship wasn't a high priority for either Clint or Bucky, for various reasons. Mostly, the secrecy was at Bucky's insistence: homosexuality wasn't something one advertised in the forties, and seventy years of age or not he was still in that half-fearful mind-set, worrying that Fury would see it as reason to kick them to the kerb. Given that Clint had had a hard enough time convincing him it was okay to even feel that way about another man, he was in no hurry to make him 'go public'. Luckily, their coming out happened by chance – and to the best person possible.

For someone known as Hawkeye, Clint Barton did, on occasion, take a while to actually be able to see things in the morning. In these instances, he was able to rely on memory to guide him through the minutes until his sight was back up to non-sleepy status so he could discern where he was – that, and he recognised the smell of Bucky's bed (and the position of it when he smacked his hand into the wall whilst stretching). Registering his brain's dire need for caffeine, he fumbled around for his hearing aids and something to cover his lower half before shuffling out into the main living area.

Aids in one hand, Clint looked up and identified a dark, silvery smudge as Bucky leaning back against one of the kitchen counters. He waved as he trudged past, heading straight for where he remembered the coffee machine to be, and counted the buttons until he was (fairly) sure he hit the right one. He timed the maker once so that he knew how long it took to give him coffee, and after adding five seconds just to be sure he picked up the white blob that was his mug, taking a gratifying sip. Then he shuffled back over to Bucky, dropping his face onto his good shoulder and huffing, the cotton against his eyelids soft and comforting.

Bucky elbowed him. Not hard, but enough to make Clint lift his head slightly and wrench open his eyes again. And that was when he noticed that, opposite them, something was sat at Bucky's table. Something human-shaped. "Oh shi'," he mumbled, reluctantly setting his coffee down so he could slip his hearing aids in.

"Clint," Bucky said once he could hear, an odd note in his voice. "Steve's here."

"Steve?" Digging his fingers into his eyes for a second, Clint looked again and saw that the blurry object had, indeed, become more Steve-like.

"Hello Clint," the Steve-shape said, confirming once and for all that yes, Steve Rogers was sat in Bucky's apartment, and had just witnessed some slight domesticity between them.

"Hello," he returned weakly, blinking again. Vision a little sharper, he could just about make out the expression on Bucky's face – it wasn't a good one. Nobody needed good eyesight to be able to tell the situation was awkward to say the least.

"So," Steve said after a long silence. "You two, uh… I mean, does Clint regularly… come for coffee?"

"Yeah," Bucky answered slowly. "He likes it here."

"Shirtless?" Both Bucky and Clint looked at his naked torso at the same time. Steve cleared his throat to get their attention back. "Are you two… fondueing?"

"Fon-what?"

"Jesus," Clint muttered, picking up his coffee and relocating to the table. "Yes, Steve, Bucky and I are sleeping together. Bucky, I can hear you glaring at me – stop. If he didn't work it out himself he'd have gone to Stark, and then the grand investigation would've started."

"I wouldn't…" Steve trailed off, and Clint rubbed his eyes enough that he could make out a hesitant facial expression on the super soldier in front of him. He turned to Bucky. "So, you're… Y'know…"

Bucky nodded stiffly, hunched over his coffee. "Yeah."

"All your life?" He shrugged, and Steve processed that for a few seconds. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asked.

The Winter Soldier stared into his mug. "Thought I wouldn't need to if I spent enough time with the dames," he explained quietly. "Then there was the war, then I was – uh, in Russia… and then someone told me things had changed."

Clint felt rather than saw Bucky's eyes flick to him, and sat a little straighter in his chair. "You know opinions are different now, Steve," he said. "Not everyone is so bothered by men seeing each other."

Captain America nodded vacantly. "Does anyone else know?"

"Well we didn't plan on telling anyone until Buck was comfortable."

"You would've been first, Steve," Bucky swore, and Clint was now alert enough that he could see every inch of sincerity (and hope) in Bucky's eyes.

"How long has this been going on?" Steve was surprised when they told him, but his features were quickly schooled before suddenly blossoming into a near-blinding beam. "I guess if you two are happy, I'm happy," he declared. Clint smiled at him, glad when he noticed the tension slide from Bucky's shoulders. "You have my blessing."

He snorted. "Didn't know we were askin' for it, old man."

"It's a forties thing, kid," Bucky told him, smirking into his drink.

"Whatever."

"I just have one question though." Bucky tensed again, and Clint raised an eyebrow. "You're being safe when you fondue, right?"

Steve Rogers was promptly ushered from the apartment, barely being given enough time to swear secrecy before the door was closed behind him. The only flaw with this plan was that he wasn't around when Bucky asked what the hell cheese fondue had to do with anything, but watching him fall to the floor in laughter upon finding out more than made up for Clint having to tell him.

AN: Prompt: "Telling Steve they're together."