WHW ‘17 drabbles - Heat

(I swear i’m gonna finish this… #6 of 7. Each entry is exactly 100 words)

Sometimes love is sitting on the floor in your underwear in front of the window fan while your boyfriend curses and bangs at the broken air-conditioner, reminding him to drink the ice water you put next to his elbow five minutes ago before he gives himself heat stroke.

Sometimes it’s giving up and dragging him out for some ice cream. It’s buying a garden hose and going up to the apartment roof to spray each-other with water and laugh until every kid in the building joins in the fun. It’s holding him even when it’s too hot to be close.

(ao3)

WHW ‘17 drabbles - family

(final entry. all entries are exactly 100 words) 

“She’s so tiny…” Bucky tickled the infant’s foot to watch her toes curl, awed.

“We almost convinced Nat to name her ‘Miracle’.” Clint cradled her, face shadowed by a “world’s best uncle” hat. Looking made Bucky’s chest all warm and fluttery.  

“You ever think about kids?”

Clint laughed, a bitter thing. “You kidding? I’m awful, and with the example I had growing up…” He let the baby grab his smallest finger. “This is as close as I ever ought to get.”

Bucky linked their ring fingers, made them a chain of three. “Shame…I think you’d be good at it.”

(ao3. complete)   

Winterhawk silliness

Prompt courtesy @corvidprompts

so I wrote a thing that was meant to be for @winterhawkweek but I lost my nerve and didn’t post it in time. So here, have some winterhawk fluff you never asked for. Enjoy. 

Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes, G-Rated silliness behind the cut.

Keep reading

WHW ‘17 drabbles - Reincarnation

(each entry is exactly 100 words) 

In 1938 Bucky met a boy with sharp eyes and a sharper wit in the alley behind a dance hall, doing things they weren’t supposed to do. They danced in secret until the War took both of them away.

In 1972 the Winter Soldier met a sharp-eyed woman with sharper aim in Belgium; his target. He hesitated. She said, “I forgive you.”

In 2006 he met a sharp-eyed, sharp-witted marksman who shot his target out from under him and said, “Hello again.”

In 2015 Bucky remembered again, found Clint again, and they picked their dance up where they’d left it.

(ao3)

It's getting hot in here

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2g2Jcas

by icywind

Bucky & Clint in a hot and stuffy safe house.

Day 4 Winterhawk Week (Oldies but Goodies) - Heat

Words: 1408, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Winterhawk Week 2017

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2g2Jcas

Close to you

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2fHyIQT

by icywind

A snapshot of the Barnes-Barton wedding, Clint’s ridiculously happy POV.

Day 8 Winterhawk Week (Oldies but Goodies) - Free For All (Optional - Friends and Family)

Words: 839, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Winterhawk Week 2017

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2fHyIQT

WHW ‘17 drabbles - Disabilities

(each entry is exactly 100 words) 

Sometimes, no matter how well Tony shields and safeguards, their tech goes down. Then Clint is deaf and Bucky’s down an arm. They can’t avoid it, so they plan and train for it. Bucky becomes Clint’s ears, Clint covers Bucky’s left side. They move like two parts of a machine. Where one moves the other follows. It’s not hard to adapt; they work the same way when the tech is working; back-to-back, in harmony.

Sometimes the enemy targets them specifically, their physical vulnerabilities, thinking it makes them exploitable liabilities. Winter and the Hawk close ranks and show them dead wrong.  

(ao3)

320.

[Belated winterhawk week ficlet - Day 1: disabilities]

“You can’t park there.”

The low, rough voice fought its way through the ringing in Clint’s ears, and he carefully cranked up his aids again, wincing when the sirens kicked back in.

“Excuse me?” he asked, every inch the polite and respectable hero that Steve frequently, vocally wished he would be.

“You can’t park there,” the woman said again. “It’s clearly signposted disabled parking, and you just flipped yourself upside down, so it’s –“ she waved, a tightly aggravated gesture, at where the ‘jet was abandoned haphazardly across the parking lot.

“We’ll be gone in just a minute, ma’am,” Clint told her, “and I’m pretty sure the fire-fighters are keeping all the regular shoppers out, so we’re doing our best not to inconvenience any-“

She snorted. It was an impressively dismissive sound.

“You’re a superhero,” she said, like the word was synonymous with ‘privileged able-bodied white guy’, which maybe – on reflection – a little too often it was. “What would you know about inconvenience?”

“It’s not –“ he said, caught a little off guard, “superheroes aren’t just… y’know people with disabilities can totally –“

“Name one,” she said, eyes narrowing.

“Charles Xavier,” he answered promptly.

“And the professor can park his flying whojamawotsit wherever he gosh-darned pleases,” she said, folding her skinny arms across her chest, drawing attention to her ‘I heart my gay grandson’ pin. “But until there are ramps to access all of the parking spots and clearance at the rear of every space, you’re gonna have to move your plane.”

“Hawkeye!”

Bucky was at the hatch in the side of the ‘jet, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed in front of him, sunlight gleaming off the metal.

“You comin’, Barton?”

“I’m coming!” he yelled, and then turned to the woman, giving her his best disarming smile. “We’re going. Sorry.” He signed that last, for good measure, and she cocked her head at him.

“Coulda just said you were deaf,” she grumbled, and he laughed.

“I’m deaf, he’s –“

“Pissed at you, get your ass moving,” Bucky interjected.

“- angry, pretty much constantly,” Clint said, “we’ve both got disabilities but you’re right, we totally didn’t need to park there.”

“Well thanks for saving us from the robots,” she said, grudging. “I guess this time you can get a pass.”

“Good of you,” he said, and laughed again. “Your grandson’s a lucky guy.  I’ll talk to Tony about those ramps, okay?”

“Talk to him about my number,” she said with a wicked grin that took forty years off her age.

“Aaw, cougar,” he said, then raised his voice. “Hey Buck, I’m leavin’ you, I wanna marry –“

“Clarice,” she said, helpful, “and I’m only interested if you’ve got a tower.”

“I’ve got an apartment building in Bed-Stuy?” he said, fluttering his eyelashes, and she snorted again, like she got chatted up by B-list superheroes every day of the week.

“This isn’t a negotiation, sweet cheeks.”

“Excuse you,” he said, “I have a rugged and manly profile.”

“And she wasn’t talkin’ about your face,” Bucky said, low and directly into his ear, hand planted square on the aforementioned. Clint jumped, yelped, and Clarice and Bucky cackled at the blush he couldn’t fight down.

It’s day four of Winterhawk Week…and I have not finished the fic for Heat. I’m entirely too exhausted to do so tonight but - have half of it anyway?

“Hrrllaaaaghnnaaaa…”

Bucky glanced up from his word search.

“This is just the woooooooooorrrrssst.”

He raised an eyebrow even though his companion wouldn’t see it with his eyes closed.

“It’s fucking September for fucks sake. Why is it sooooo hoooooooot?” Clint was flopped out on the old couch in the small (so small, so stuffy) safe house (apartment) they were holed up in.

“Global Warming?” Bucky offered, the corner of his mouth ticking up when Clint flipped him off.

“Don’t joke about shit like that. That’s a real thing.”

“I know. Trust me.” He heard all about it from Steve. “Aren’t you from the Midwest? Shouldn’t the heatwaves be something you’re used to?”

“In case you missed it – it’s fucking September. September. As in Fall. Autumn. Leafy happy season with sweaters and coffee and cocoa and pumpkin spice everything.” He saw Clint throw his arms out wide. “It is not stupid-fucking-hot season.”

“My apologies.” The smile threatened to grow a little more.

“Yeah, you should be sorry.”

“That makes no sense.” Neither of them were at fault here. They’d been on a normal little recon mission that had finished up the day before. They were now just waiting for extraction. Which – if anyone was at fault it was Sam because that was going to take another day and they couldn’t really leave this little apartment for fear of breaking cover and Sam’s slow ass was delaying said extraction and-

“The heat is messing with my head?” Clint suggested and Bucky stood with a  grunt to walk over to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water, bringing it over to Clint who yelped then moaned when Bucky settled it against his neck.

“Don’t drink that in one go – the cold will seize up your stomach.” Bucky said, trying to ignore the echo of that stupid moan that was inexplicably stuck in his head now. As an afterthought he grabbed a bottle from the case near the door and tossed it to Clint who caught it without looking.

He realized his mistake a moment later when he was still admiring how Clint had caught the bottle without looking – because that was followed by admiring the line of Clint’s throat because he’d sat up and tilted his head back to finish off half of that bottle before setting it aside to run the cold one against his neck again.

Bucky cleared his throat and sat carefully down in his chair again.

WHW ‘17 drabbles - Autumn

( I forgot about winterhawk week =x  each entry is exactly 100 words) 

Hoodie weather is the best weather; cool enough to wear your softest clothes, not yet cold enough to need more than a hot coffee to be perfectly comfortable. Sweatshirts and ballcaps grant enough anonymity for a lazy stroll through Central Park, hand-in-hand and content in the evening quiet.

Clint smiles, watching Bucky watch the birds. Hoodie weather also means Bucky hides his arm without overheating, and it’s warm enough yet to keep the shadows off his face. Snow still brings him to dark places.

It snows early in New York. They’ll take this autumn peace as long as they can.

(ao3)

WHW ‘17 drabbles - Injury

(each of this series is exactly 100 words)

“Whoops.”

One word and Bucky’s heart was in his throat. “Hawkeye?” whisper-bitten into the comm, “Barton, report!” Minutes ticked by, no response, tension coiled and he readied to break cover, break into the facility and break Clint out of whatever trouble he’d found. One breath, two breaths, counting down–

“I’m ok,” Clint’s strained report crackled back. Relief dropped the tension two notches. “Slightly stabbed. Mission done, moving to extraction.”

Breath caught, worry stuck. “I’ll meet you halfway.”

He didn’t breathe easy until Clint, bloodied, knife still in his thigh, limped out of the shadows and into reach, into arms-gathered safety.

(ao3)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Captain America (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Clint Barton Characters: Clint Barton, James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Hockey, ‘cause this takes place in the same verse as Puck Luck, Fluff, Silly Series: Part 2 of Winterhawk Week 2017 Summary:

Clint’s not really used to having people that want to take care of him.

'Taking care of the people he loves’ is in the Top Five List of things Bucky loves.

Day 2 Winterhawk Week (Oldies but Goodies) - Injury

As You Were

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2fKWSXv

by icywind

It’s just another day for Bucky at Liquid Energy - slinging coffee, serving up pastries, dealing with his coworkers - and then a new customer walks in…

Day 1 Winterhawk Week (Oldies but Goodies) - Disibilities

Words: 3723, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Winterhawk Week 2017

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2fKWSXv

Living in The Present

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2yo7ySF

by flawedamythyst

The things Hydra did to Bucky’s brain left him with permanent damage to his memory, but it’s hard for him to mind too much when living in the present includes living with Clint.

Written for Winterhawk Week 2017. Will be updated pretty much daily for the next week.

Words: 1456, Chapters: 1/9, Language: English

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2yo7ySF