Gently

9. Two Guys, One Night

Sat in Bucky's apartment, waiting for him to emerge from the shower, Clint realised something: it was quiet. There were no Avengers, no S.H.I.E.L.D agents, no bleeping mobiles, no visiting gods, no crazed conquerors, no otherworldly invasion forces – nothing. It was just him and Bucky, the sun setting beyond the window wall on his left, and New York, carrying on with life as if nothing had changed in the last couple of years. When Bucky reappeared from the bedroom, Clint had already decided what they were going to be doing that night.

"I've had an idea," he said.

Bucky rolled his eyes, a smile already on his face. "Do I need to run and hide?"

Momentarily distracted by how sexy he looked post-shower (enough to nearly change Clint's plans there and then), Clint shook his head. "No. This is seriously a good idea."

"Alright then. Shoot."

"Let's go on a date."

Freezing as he sat down, Bucky's expression could only be described as a mixture of horror and worry, with a hint of interest that Clint knew he'd have to pull hard on to win him over. "A date?"

"Yeah."

He licked his lips. "In the tower, right?"

Clint sighed. "I'm not talking about pizza and video games, Buck. I mean a real life, out in the city kind of date." He sat down next to him, noticing how rigid he still was. "Look, you don't have to worry about anything, alright? All we'll do is get some dinner, then go someplace else for a couple of hours. It's cool out, so no-one'll question you wearing a jacket, and if it's dark your arm won't –"

"Clint…"

He reached over, taking Bucky's hand in his own. "I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think you could do this," he said solemnly. "You're the bravest man I know. You handled coming out to the team beautifully – this is just the next step." Bucky stayed scowling at the table. "Okay, how about this: we drive down to the river and find a burger stall or something, then go to a cinema, watch a film. All people will see are two guys hanging out, no more than that. We don't get nights like this, Bucky, not in our profession. Come on – for me?"

Nervous eyes flicked to his, the hand he held having grown slightly clammy. Bucky sighed tersely. "This means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Clint nodded earnestly, and his expression softened. "Alright," he said quietly. "But on one condition."

"Yeah?"

"You let me pay for my halves."

Grinning, Clint kissed him on the cheek. "Course I will. You won't regret this Bucky, trust me!"

"Don't say that," he groaned, wrinkling his nose. "That never bodes well for people like us." He left to change, even though Clint thought he couldn't really get hotter than a t-shirt and sweats, metal arm gleaming as though it had been polished (well, perhaps ditching the t-shirt would be a good move…) – so he was pleasantly surprised when Bucky strode out of his room a few minutes later in dark jeans and a silvery-purple dress shirt, leather jacket slung over his arm.

"Damn," he said. "How did I forget about that shirt?"

Bucky rolled his eyes fondly. "Beats me. Now let's go, before you change your mind about going out at all."

"Says the guy who didn't want to in the first place," he quipped back, already halfway out the door.

They hit up the river in good time, arguing about music taste on the way ("Dude, just move out of the fifties, already!"), and strolled along the promenade until they came across a burger van. They queued together but bought separately, then found a quiet spot where they could lean against the railings and watch the twilight sky melt into the water.

"What's your favourite colour?"

Bucky turned to look at him quizzically. "What?"

"Your favourite colour. What is it?"

"I... don't really have one."

"Sure you do. Tell me."

"Why do you want to know?" he asked.

Clint smiled at him. "We're on a date, Buck," he reminded him. "Probably our first ever official one, too. That's the kind of thing you ask on dates. Isn't it?"

Bucky laughed. "Fine, fine, let me think…" He stared out of the water, and Clint wondered if he was going through each colour, working out what he associated with them. "Yellow's not so bad," he said eventually.

"Yellow?"

He nodded, and when he saw the question in Clint's face, turned to stare back out over the river. "A lot of good associated with yellow. Sun, ice cream, you and Steve –"

"Me and Steve?" Clint echoed. "You mind elaborating on that?"

Bucky squirmed slightly, and Clint felt a little bad. "You're both blonde," he explained, then turned to face him with a small smile. "And yellow is the complimentary colour of purple. At least, that's what Steve told me."

For a short while, Clint was surprised at Bucky – and touched. Then he grinned and shook his head. "You old sap."

A metal hand reached out to swat him on the shoulder. "You're the one who wanted an explanation, kid."

"Yeah, yeah." He polished off the last of his burger and scrunched up the napkin. "Come on – let's go find a movie."

Thirty minutes later they'd found the perfect place. As modern as Bucky was in comparison to Steve, he still wasn't completely adjusted, and newer films were something of a marvel in terms of special effects. Bucky had enjoyed the Westerns he'd been shown though, and this particular place – tucked away on the edge of the city – was hosting a Classic Western night. Clint watched him out of the corner of his eye as they entered, taking in the distance he put between them and the unease in his body. Having paid they slipped through the small door ahead of another group, and Clint tapped the back of his gloved metal hand once, sending him a quick smile when he looked round. "Snacks?"

Inside, they managed to take some seats away from everyone else. Bucky relaxed once they were sat down, quickly digging in to his ice cream and stealing some of Clint's popcorn, ignoring his protest that the film hadn't even started. When it did, Clint waited until a few minutes in before lacing his fingers with Bucky's, the action hidden by the low lighting, and smiled when he squeezed back. Frequently throughout the screening he caught himself staring at Bucky, mesmerised by the way the light from the film illuminated the different planes of his face, how the corner of his mouth would tug up at parts he liked, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed… They only untangled their hands when the credits began to roll an hour and a half later.

"You see?" Clint said as they left, crossing the deserted street to the car. "That wasn't so bad."

"No, it wasn't," Bucky agreed with a rueful smile. It must have been years since he'd last been to the pictures, Clint realised, remembering how he said he and Steve had treasured the occasions when they had the coin to be able to do so. Had he ever taken one of his dames along too?

Checking over his shoulder, Clint grabbed Bucky's hand and nudged his jaw around for a kiss, keeping him in place when he tried to move away. "I already looked, alright?" he muttered against his lips. "We're alone."

"Oh…" Bucky kissed him back properly, a hungry edge to the action that Clint found just a bit amusing. It was still brief though, the soldier's paranoia preventing him from indulging any further, no matter how much he trusted Clint's sight.

"Y'know," Clint said as they resumed walking, "the date doesn't have to end just because we go back to the tower."

Bucky smirked. "Should've known you'd want to do more. Getting me in bed – that your end game all along?" Clint looked straight ahead, unable to wipe the grin off his face. It wasn't often that Bucky came over to his, but tonight Clint was going to force an exception. "Clint? What's this?"

Looking back, Clint glanced at the five dollar bill in Bucky's hand. "It's money, Buck. We've been using it to pay for things all night."

"I meant what's it doing in my pocket, smartass? It wasn't there before."

He shrugged. "Maybe you just missed it." That it also happened to be the price of one cinema ticket was just a coincidence, but before any more could be said Clint turned and climbed into the car. When they were both inside, a thank-you kiss was pressed to his cheek, the promise of a more thorough expression of Bucky's gratitude whispered filthily into his ear.

AN: Prompt: "can I get 'Date night'? :)"