Notes: Non-canon from The Avengers onwards.

"Brabble and Fuzzle"

Clint was born with the worst soulmark. 'Hi', and nearly illegible at that. Clearly he was going to have an ineloquent soulmate. Either that or someone struck dumb by his beauty, the fortune teller said, but he just snorted and went back to work.

Until he was chased down and recruited by SHIELD, he tended to introduce himself if someone said 'Hi' to him, but nothing. Then he joined Phil Coulson's one attempt at a SHIELD book club and his life was turned around.

"I know what I'm gonna do every time someone greets me with 'Hi'," he said, waggling his eyebrows as he peeked at Coulson from behind his book.

"What's that?" Coulson asked absently, still sorting through the forms on his desk.

"I'm gonna learn the most obscure words that I can and use those, so that my soulmate will know it's me. Now I've got a steady job, I don't have to worry about not being able to support them, whoever it is."

"Surprisingly good idea, Barton. Don't even think about putting your feet on my desk."

"Yes, sir."

Strangely enough, people were more likely to say something interesting to him as he began to rise through SHIELD's ranks. If they were hoping to turn out to be his soulmate, they were wrong. He had to be responsible for the fancy soulmark.

When he met Natasha Romanov, her first word to him was 'Hi', as she stared up at him from where she was sitting on the ground with her back against the wall. He grinned slowly, even as she shivered.

"Don't you just hate snowbroth?" he asked, kicking the newly melted snow on the ground. Her eyes narrowed.

"Snowbroth?" she said.

"This stuff."

"Do you use that word often?"

"Only to see whether or not someone's my soulmate. Are you?" She shook her head, and he sighed. "Wanna come with me anyway? Hell of a lot warmer." She stood up unsteadily, and he helped her out of the passageway. The sun's rays beat down on them despite the cold air. "You know what this is called?"

"What?" she asked, looking reluctantly amused.

"Apricity. The warmth of the sun when it's wintry cold."

Finding and using obscure words became something of a hobby, not just a way of identifying his soulmate. One day, exhausted after a mission, he slid into the seat next to Natasha and across from Coulson, and proceeded to slump on the table and stare straight ahead.

"What are you doing, Barton?" he asked.

"Groaking."

"Of course you are."

"Staring at you while you eat, hoping to be invited to join."

"Barton, to join us you'd have to have actual food."

Clint continued to gaze at Coulson, until the agent gave in and fetched him some food.

Sometimes a mission was malagrugrous (dismal), some of Clint's dirty jokes made people kench (laugh loudly), the occasional bad guy was sanguinolent (addicted to bloodshed, and that went for a few fellow agents as well). And then Clint moved into Stark Tower after the Battle of New York. He snapped out of his widdendream (state of mental disturbance or confusion), and took advantage of Stark's generosity to deliciate (luxuriate, revel) in his surroundings.

And the Avengers learnt what it was like to live with him. Even Thor was baffled by Clint's word usage.

"Is it to make up for the lack of a formal education?" Tony said, leaning over the breakfast table and getting too close for Clint's liking.

"There's a word for you, Stark, and that word is cockalorum."

"Sounds fun."

"Fits you to a T."

Then Tony must have looked it up on his tablet because he gave Clint a sad look.

"That's hurtful," he said.

"Don't give me shit for not going to school."

"Hey, I was only teasing."

"You're saying you're not a little man with a high opinion of himself?" Tony pouted. "Fine, fine. You're not a cockalorum."

"Only because I'm letting you stay here, I'm guessing?"

"Nope." Clint finished off his smoothie. "Because you make me monsterful arrows."

"…That'd better be a compliment."

"It is."

"'Monsterful' means wonderful or extraordinary, sir," JARVIS said, only now choosing to interpret. Tony beamed.

"That's better," he said, and he very nearly skipped back to his workshop.

Clint noted on more than one occasional that a night in the lab resulted in Bruce having elflock (tangled hair), that Thor caused lumming (heavy rain, naturally) if he was missing Jane, and that Steve could freck (move swiftly or nimbly) just as well as Natasha. And that if Tony had been drunk-engineering, resistentialism (the seemingly malevolent behaviour displayed by inanimate objects) became a legitimate fear.

One day Clint discovered something he wished he hadn't, passed it on to Coulson, who passed it to Fury. HYDRA was within SHIELD. Clint found out purely by accident, and couldn't let it rest, of course he couldn't. They were going to deal with the whole thing quickly and quietly, and he needed Natasha's assistance for that, and Tony as well. He nearly lost it when he arrived back at the tower with Coulson to find them all squabbling over what TV show to watch next. Coulson cleared his throat, which shut them all up.

"Now that you've stopped your brabbling, maybe we could start arguing about something which actually matters?" Clint said through clenched teeth.

"Like rescuing Sergeant James Barnes and bringing down a corrupt organisation," Coulson added. The blood drained from Steve's face when the agent handed over a file. "I'm sorry. We only just found out."

"H-he's alive?"

"So it would seem."

"We have to find him!"

"I know, captain, I know, and we will. But we need a plan."

Over the next forty-eight hours, they systematically ferreted out every HYDRA agent within SHIELD, notifying the overseas branches as soon as they could, and caused a big enough distraction for Steve and Thor to storm in and rescue Bucky Barnes from HYDRA's clutches. The press conference was not going to be fun.

"Do you really want them to surmise based on whatever evidence they can find?" Coulson said.

"Probably not," Bruce said, rubbing his eyes as they drove back to the tower to debrief in safety. Steve and Natasha were accompanying Barnes in a reinforced van.

"Definitely don't want them reporting based on what they've corraded," Clint mumbled, making great use of his head-rest. His remark was greeted by silence. "To corrade is to scrape together information from a variety of sources."

"If you say so," Tony said, waving a tired hand. "Got a word for a drinking spree?"

"Brannigan."

"Let's go on a brannigan. We can get drunk."

"You wanna fuzzle us?"

"…If that means get you drunk, then yes, I do."

"Just so we're clear."

"Debriefing first," Coulson said, with zero percent enthusiasm. "Spare me your obscure words in your report, Barton. Please?"

"Have you ever known me to be guilty of perissology?"

"Probably."

"Wrong. I'm never redundant in my reports. Takes way too long to write them."

Coulson groaned, and Clint decided to shut up.

It took about five weeks before Bucky was comfortable enough in himself to leave the floor he'd been staying on with Steve. Three of those weeks were intensive therapy with a man named Sam Wilson, who'd helped Bucky recover most of his conscious memory and come to see that what he did was HYDRA's fault, not his. He was ready to meet new people, the rest of the tower's residents.

Two of those weeks had been spent in familiarising himself with modern society and relearning the old, including the concept of soulmates. Because now he had a soulmark, and he wanted to find his soulmate. He didn't care how platonic it was; he just wanted to find the one person who was supposed to accept and love him for who he was, no matter what'd happened to him in the past.

Steve left for his early morning run, so Bucky sneaked down by himself. Well, as much as someone could sneak when JARVIS was watching their every move. He crept through the common area until he found some people. He nearly ran into a man with short blond hair and piercing eyes, who smirked at him and then walked around. Bucky half-turned, about to ask his name, when he nearly fell over.

"Talk about callipygian," the man murmured, his eyes roving all over Bucky but mainly taking in his rear end. He must've made some sound, because the man met finally met his gaze and winced. "Sorry. That was inappropriate. Clint Barton." He held out his hand, and Bucky shook it, stunned.

"Hi," he said.

"Bucky, right?"

"You're my soulmate."

Clint gaped. "I'm… I'm your…"

"What does callipygian mean?"

"Ah hell, you've got that in your soulmark. Can I ask where?"

"Uh…" Bucky was sure he was blushing, and gestured to his right ass cheek. "It's here."

"That… that'd be right."

"What does it mean?" Clint swallowed.

"The Oxford English Dictionary Online gives the definition of callipygian as 'having well-shaped or finely developed buttocks'," JARVIS said. Bucky jumped, and if he wasn't blushing before, he definitely was now.

"Oh," he said.

"No brain-mouth filter," Clint said, gesturing to his head. "I'm so sorry."

"You're the only one who's gonna see my bare behind anyway. As long as JARVIS doesn't tell anyone, there won't be any teasing. So." He looked Clint over, trying to guess. "Where's your soulmark?"

Clint fidgeted, and then gestured to his inner left thigh with a sheepish look. After a moment, Bucky pushed his soulmate up against the wall.

"Bucky!" he heard Steve say, but then Bucky was too busy kissing Clint, pulling his left knee up and grinding against him to mimic what he really wanted to do. Clint yanked Bucky's head back by the hair, and looked over at Steve.

"We're soulmates," he said. Bucky noticed Steve's jaw drop. "I think we should probably continue this conversation elsewhere, don't you, Bucky?"

He nodded, pulling away, ashamed that he'd kissed Clint without permission. For all he knew, the man didn't want a non-platonic relationship. He followed Clint dutifully, avoiding Steve's gaze, and felt his heart sink as the elevator doors closed.

"My floor, JARVIS," Clint said, and then he pressed Bucky against the wall. "We won't be disturbed there."

"Clint…"

"Make it quick, because I don't think our clothes will stay on long once we get to the bedroom. Unless you'd prefer an actual conversation first, in which case okay, we'll do that."

"You do want me?"

Clint grinded against him gently. "Feel that? That's your answer."

Bucky groaned, tilting his head back against the wall of the elevator. "I like that answer."

"We have arrived at your floor, Agent Barton," JARVIS said, and the doors slid open.

"Thanks, J," Clint said, dragging Bucky out of the elevator. "Talk or bed, Bucky?"

"Bed," Bucky said quickly. "I don't think I could hold a serious conversation right now."

"Bed it is. Right this way, soulmate."

Bucky liked that. And he was glad he'd left Steve's floor today.

While Bucky slept, Clint switched on his phone and sent Natasha a text.

'Told you it wasn't a stupid idea to use obscure words. Found my soulmate.'

'So JARVIS said,' she replied. 'Don't screw it up.'

'Not a chance. We've bonded now. Never be a problem with misunderstandings.'

'You realise that you're ludibrious now.'

'If finding my soulmate makes me worthy of mockery, then let the mocking begin. I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now.'

'Sap.'

He turned off the phone with a smile, and then snuggled back in Bucky's hold.

I was looking at a webpage with all these obsolete words, and the idea came to me for a character with a generic soulmark who uses weird words in an attempt to make it easier to find their soulmate. I hope you all feel more educated now. Mum thought the title of the chapter was hilarious.

Please review! I've written a Clint/Bucky soulmate AU thing before, but that was long before this series, or I'd have included it. It involves baking biscuits, which I've actually done today. Yay for jam drops!