Chapter Text
“Um, don’t ask how it happened? But my super secret SHIELD email address was leaked to the public,” Clint said, even though it was a lost cause.
He was already cranky, having been yelled at by both Fury and Steve already, on top of reading shitty opinions about Dog Cops online and then running four whole miles in the humid New-York-in-spring air. The last part has also left him sweaty and uncomfortable. Not to mention, his nose itched.
“How did it happen?” asked Bucky, not looking up from his paperback, which appeared to be a sci-fi romance featuring a giant bug tenderly holding an athletic looking man on the cover. Clint refused to be jealous of the man, but he figured wanting to replace the bug was fair game.
“I was being dumb on Twitter but that’s not the point. I only told you this because I need your help.” Clint said.
“I’m not gonna help you unless I know the whole story,” said Bucky, and Clint sighed. Of the two of them, why did the guy reading what must be steamy bug erotica have to be the reasonable one?
“Alright, but you have to remember that, no matter what I did, I’m a fucking fantastic archer,” Clint said in defeat.
That, at least, finally got Bucky to put his book down. Hell yeah. Clint’s more interesting than bug porn. “I’m listening.”
“Okay, so I was arguing about Dog Cops with this guy on twitter. And I wanted to end the discussion. To go jogging.” It wasn’t even the first time Clint fought with that particular user about Dog Cops. The adrenaline helped him run better. “So I sent him a GIF of me flexing.” He coughed. “Shirtless.”
Worst part was, Bucky didn’t even look surprised, just tired. “That’s no way to win an argument, Barton,” he said. “And it still doesn’t explain how the email address got leaked.”
“No, you see, it is, because have you seen my arms?” Clint pushed his t-shirt sleeve up to demonstrate, and fuck, it would’ve impressed anyone other than Bucky “My Biceps Have Literally Ended Wars” Barnes. “And it does, because I thought I was posting the GIF, but really I posted the address.”
“And you didn’t notice until you came back.” Bucky sat up from where he was lying on the couch. “Fucking hell, Clint. Does Steve know?”
Clint nodded miserably. “He already tore me a new one about information security, and then Fury yelled at me for like thirty minutes and didn’t even let me shower, and now my new confidential address is dumbass-at-avengers-dot-why. That's not the reason I’m telling you this.”
“Oh, yeah, right, why are you telling me this?” asked Bucky. “And, since you mentioned it, couldn’t it wait until after you’ve showered?”
“Like I said, I need your help.” Clint felt more anxious and sticky than ever. He didn’t even know Bucky that well, why did he think this was a good idea?
“My help?” Bucky looked confused. “I don’t know how to change an email address, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Nah, the new one’s kinda growing on me. It tells a story, y’know? What I thought is, well, what happened is that obviously a lot of people started sending stuff to the address I posted. And I figured - ” Coming back from a jog to more than a thousand new messages was unexpected. Finding out the hard way (ha!) that the top one’s a dick pic was disappointing - Tony swore it wouldn’t happen again - and by the time he figured out what happened, Clint was already thoroughly traumatised. “You know what, this was a bad idea, sorry. Going to take that shower now.”
Bucky scowled. “No, not happening, don’t you dare.” He used one of his metal fingers as a bookmark, which would be cute if he didn’t look seconds away from throwing the paperback at Clint. “It’ll bug me all week if you don’t tell me.”
“Bug, huh?” Clint wiggled his eyebrows and sent a suggestive glance at the book. Bucky closed it, looking annoyed.
“Tell me.”
“Alright, alright. It’s probably stupid.” Clint closed his eyes, took a breath and regretted his entire life. “Just, I figured, some of those emails are probably worth replying to?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong, they’re mostly junk. Not to mention the, um, junks. Which are a lot. But some people genuinely wanted to send Hawkeye a message? And a few of these messages might be, I don’t know, relevant, or, or important.”
He didn’t mention that Steve told him to delete the account ASAP, because the whole thing was getting ridiculous enough as it was. Plus, he didn’t want to be the asshole who made Bucky choose between listening to his best friend and an inbox full of garbage. The poor guy has lived through enough tough choices already.
“You might be right.” said Bucky. “What does it have to do with me?”
“Thing is, I can’t really read any of the emails. Some of what I saw… I get too angry. I’d have to figure out where they live and, I don’t know, beat them up.”
It wasn’t the personal shit that got to him. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, even when they - whoever the fuck they thought they were - were cutting deep, talking about how useless he was, how he didn’t belong with the Avengers, how ridiculous his uniform looked. He knew how to cope with that . Even the ones who mentioned Bobbi, or his family - and fuck the age of information for letting the public find out - he could deal with. But a paragraph after paragraph of hateful, grossly sexual comments about Kate? Amateur yet enthusiastic graphics explaining why Hydra was right all along? The only thing stopping Clint from putting an arrow through an artery was those lectures he just got from Fury and Steve.
Hell, the day’s young, he still might do it.
Bucky looked deep into his eyes. Christ, his gaze was intense. It always was, even when they were talking about breakfast or movies - Clint’s never caught him treating any subject like it was unimportant. It was admirable, in a way. He guessed that giving time, thought, and gravity to every second of every day was a decent enough way of dealing with reality.
Right now, though, he was sweaty and cranky and would rather Bucky looked away.
“So you want me to sort through your emails,” Bucky said slowly. “You want me to filter them? Find the ones that are important? Tell you about them?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Why me?”
Fuck, Clint hoped he wouldn’t ask that, mostly because he didn’t really have an answer. Sure, he and Bucky were friendly enough, but they never went deeper than the occasional Steve-roasting. What did he even know about the guy?
“You’re, uh, you always say what you think? But you’re chill about it. From what I see, you, you kinda just don’t make a fuss about this kind of thing. The others, they’d make it into a thing, try to accomplish something,” Clint felt like he was talking too much, but he was always better at reaching conclusions while he was explaining them. Bucky, for his part, didn’t look annoyed, just curious.
“And you’re not making it into a thing?”
Clint shrugged. “Thought it’s worth giving it a shot, you know, see where it leads. Not looking to start a capital-P Project.” He shrugged again, to show just how fucking relaxed he was. “You really don’t have to do this, it’s not important or anything.”
“Didn’t say I won’t do it.”
“So you will do it?”
“Didn’t say that either.”
Before Clint managed to get annoyed, Bucky chuckled. “Can I think about it and tell you tomorrow?”
“Sure, man, take as much time as you need. Like I said, it’s really not important.”
“Okay, I’ll find you then. If that’s all, I kinda want to continue this book now.”
Clint looked at the book, then at Bucky. He took a hesitant step towards the door, and then looked at the book again.
“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Barton, it’s not what you think. It’s about a giant bug having sex with a man,” said Bucky as Clint walked out of the room.
➳
The next day, Kate brought Lucky over to the tower. Clint knew that, because Steve had a habit of using his Captain America Voice whenever he was talking to the dog.
“You are such an important dog, you know that, right? You don’t fight alongside us, but you’re vital to this team, to the world. You are so soft, Lucky. Look at your face. We need you.”
Why did Steve never tell Clint he was soft and important? Clint was totally soft and important.
There was a purple arrow stuck in one of the kitchen cupboards, and Lucky’s leash was tied to it. Clint took that to mean, “Hi, it’s Kate, I’m doing well but I need to get away for a couple of days. Take care of Lucky, don’t do dumb stuff, except you probably already did. Love you.” Man, Clint missed her. He hoped she was having fun, wherever she was.
From the living room, Steve’s “Who’s a golden friend? Who’s the most beautiful boy?” was interrupted by an amused, “Should I be jealous?” Which probably meant Clint would get his answer soon.
“Hi Buck! This is Lucky, Clint’s dog. His friend left him here, she said his apartment was locked. Well, she said he probably fell asleep in front of the TV again.”
fair.
Bucky didn’t have the same booming Captain America Voice. Clint assumed he said something, though, because Steve replied with “Yes, the other Hawkeye, Kate. You should meet her, you might get along. You are such a good boy, so full of love. You’re the best fluffy pal. How’s the identity thing going?”
Again, Clint couldn’t hear Bucky’s response, and was just about to stop eavesdropping like a creep when Bucky walked into the kitchen and froze.
“There’s an arrow in the cupboard.”
“Katie knows I’m not good with text messages.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Just like that, like it’s just another way for two friends to communicate. Clint wondered if it was a growing-up-in-the-past thing or just a Bucky thing.
The room was silent for a few seconds - except for Steve’s “ You’re a real dog and your ears are like velvet ” from the other room - and then Clint and Bucky spoke at once.
“I have an answer for you.”
“What’s your identity thing?”
Clint made a you talk first gesture and made another attempt at getting the arrow out of the cupboard. It was buried deep in the fancy wood, and Clint felt a surge of pride - it must’ve been hard to shoot in the small, futuristic kitchen.
“My therapist said I should reconnect with my identity, one part at a time,” said Bucky from behind him, talking clearly, sounding confident. It took Clint years to even admit he was seeing a therapist, God damn it. Another fucking superpower.
“What does that mean?” he asked, yanking at the arrow. It didn’t budge.
“Last month it was me being gay, so I went into a couple of gay bars, brought a rainbow t-shirt, you know. Kissed a guy. Gay stuff.” Bucky sounded nonchalant, but Clint knew that tone and was determined not to give him a reason to get defensive.
“That’s cool! You should wear it.” Pause. “I’m bi. Um. Just so you know.” Another pause, longer this time. “What else?”
Jesus, now the whole kitchen felt awkward. The arrow that a minute ago meant Hawkeye has cool friends now declared Hawkeye can’t get his life together , and it still wouldn’t come out of the cupboard, and was there even a good way to say I’m in fact the opposite of a homophobe to a guy who just casually came out to you?
He pulled again, but the arrow stayed in place. He thought about cutting it near the base and sanding it until it looked like a part of the door, because it was better than thinking about how silent Bucky was behind him, how he’d ruined everything before there was even anything to ruin, how uncomfortable he must be now -
Except then a metal hand appeared over his shoulder and plucked the arrow out with ease. Bucky laughed softly and said, “Yeah, I know, it’s in your Twitter bio.”
“Huh. It is?”
Bucky handed Clint the arrow. It still had the leash tied to it. Would it be tacky or cool to walk Lucky with the arrow still attached?
“The previous month was about being from the past. I couldn’t use my smartphone, but at least I got to dress like a person again.” Oh, yeah, now that he was thinking about it, Clint did remember that. “This month, it’s about being Jewish.”
“What happens after the month is up? I assume you don’t stop being gay and from the past and Jewish.”
It made Bucky laugh again. It was a good look on him. “No, I really don’t.”
It wasn’t really an answer, but Clint didn’t press. It wasn’t his business, and besides, there was another answer he was far more anxious to hear from Bucky.
“So, about the email thing?”
“Yes, I was just getting to that,” Bucky said with a smile. “How would you feel about doing the identity thing with me?”
Clint blinked. “What?”
“The Jewish thing. I’ve been eating kosher for like two weeks now, and it’s fine, but making meals for one? Sitting alone in restaurants? It’s pretty sad.” Bucky put his metal hand on the kitchen counter. The clank startled them both.
“I’m not Jewish, though,” said Clint.
“I know. Eat kosher with me for the rest of the month, and I’ll sort through your junk mail.”
Clint knew what kosher food was. It wasn’t often relevant for him, but it was pretty easy to remember, and he was a New Yorker, after all. And he guessed he sort of understood where Bucky was coming from - eating alone for a month sounded like the opposite of connecting to his community and heritage.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Just like that? Do you even know what kosher food is?”
Before Clint could say that yes, in fact, he does, a high pitched shriek sounded from the other room. The two of them were there in a second. Bucky had a knife in each hand, and Clint found his fists raised and his pulse quickened. Steve was sitting on the floor. Did something…?
“He licked me! Buck, Buck, Lucky licked me! This is the best day of my life.”
Oh, it was a delighted yell, not an I’m-being-murdered scream. Bucky lowered his knives slowly and glared at Steve. Or, wait, was he glaring at Lucky? Clint couldn’t let him glare at Lucky, the dog did nothing wrong, Steve’s misleading noises weren’t the poor guy’s fault.
Lucky, unaffected by both Bucky’s potential glare and Steve’s yell, got up to sniff Clint’s pants, tail wagging. What a good dog. Once he decided the pants smelled okay, he flopped down on the floor and immediately fell asleep.
“What the fuck, Steve,” said Bucky. “I thought you were being attacked, what the fuck.”
“Sorry,” Steve said, but his smile was not even slightly apologetic. He looked up at Clint. “Hi! Your dog’s here.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Bucky put his knives and glare away, leaving only his usual resting bitch face, which both Clint and Steve were used to by now. He sighed.
“Clint agreed to do the identity thing with me this month.”
Steve got up on his feet. “Seriously?” He was covered in Lucky’s hair, but it only made him look even more golden than usual, somehow drawing Clint’s eyes to his jawline - not that he needed dog hair for that - and his confused expression. “You’re giving up pizza for a week, Hawkeye? Are you sure you thought this through?”
It should’ve sounded condescending, but it just came off as worried. Of course Steve was nice even when he was being a jerk. And Clint got over him a long time ago, thank you very much.
“Wait, what?” He blinked once as he fully processed what Steve said. “I thought it was about not mixing meat and dairy? What the fuck did I sign up for, Barnes.” Bucky looked way too guilty, though to be fair, he kinda always did. Did Jewish people never eat pizza? That couldn’t be right, could it?
“I was just getting to that,” said Bucky and turned to face Clint. “Do you know what the date today is?”
“Honestly, no.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, but it was Steve who opened his mouth. “It’s almost Passover.”
“And whose fucking fault is that?” Bucky said, looking at Steve - Clint guessed it was an old argument. “Why don’t you do the Jewish thing next, Bucky ? Doesn’t it sound like a good idea, Bucky ? No, you didn’t forget anything important, Bucky . The hypocrite won’t even do it with me.”
Clint was officially lost. Well, he was officially lost- er .
Bucky sighed. “Basically, Passover means that starting this Friday, I can’t eat bread for a week. And neither can you, because you said you’d do this with me and you can’t back out now or I will go full supervillain again I-swear-to-god.” Steve looked like he was going to say something at that, but Bucky continued before he had the chance to. “I’ll text you the rules, but Steve was just being dramatic. There are pizzas you can still eat.”
Clint didn’t point out that the guy who just said he’d go full supervillain over bread was calling Steve dramatic, because he was nice like that.
“Why did you agree to do this, anyway?” Steve asked, and shit, he didn’t tell Bucky not to tell Steve about him keeping the address, will Bucky assume he’s Hydra if he just made something up? Will he shoot first and ask questions later? Would that be better or worse than having Steve yell at him again?
“I said I’d watch Dog Cops with him,” said Bucky with a wink. “That way he doesn’t have to argue with strangers on Twitter about it. I already know all his classified addresses.”
“No you don’t.”
“Keep thinking that.”
And just like that, he was out of the room, already taking his phone out to text Clint about what foods he can eat. Steve, seeing the conversation was over, sat down on the floor again to continue playing with Lucky, who wasn’t happy about being woken up but still wagged his tail at him. Neither of them noticed Clint leaving.
“Being frozen for decades was totally worth it, Lucky. No dog in my time could ever hope to be as soft as you. You are one of a kind,” Steve said, and Clint wondered if Bucky is really going to watch Dog Cops with him.
➳
That evening, when it was finally an acceptable time to go to bed, Clint opened Twitter for the first time since The Incident.
He hated this part of being an Avenger - how every one of his mistakes was public now, the embarrassment multiplied by millions and spreading like a disease until every single person with an internet connection knew Hawkeye fucked up again . But PR said he had to keep the account, and there were almost enough dog pictures to drown the thousands of comments making fun of him.
There was a DM waiting for him, from the guy who started the whole thing by arguing with him about Dog Cops. Or, well, by being argued with, because Clint did write the first message. Whatever. Clint followed him because while they disagreed, Mark was fun to disagree with - yes, he thought the whole cast of Dog Cops were actually cats all along, but at least he wasn’t racist.
@MarkDay89 (17:38, 4\16\2018):
- Guess you didn’t mean to send that
- Is that supposed to be a secret address? Oof, sorry for the part I played in this foasco
- fiasco*
- Hope you didn’t get in too much trouble ;)
Clint smiled. Yeah, Mark was a good guy, even if his TV opinions were a all wrong. He thought for a second, then sent him the GIF he meant to post in the first place, the one of him flexing shirtless. It was a good GIF, someone should at least get to enjoy it. He scrolled Twitter for a couple of minutes, not really paying attention, closing the app and turning off the lights after the first political post he saw.
Weirdly enough, he felt good about this.
Bucky agreeing to help him was exciting, even if it did come at a price, but it wasn’t just that. Yeah, he was sure it was a good way to help people, but this wasn’t the reason he was smiling like an idiot at the dark ceiling.
There was something in Bucky’s wink when he lied to Steve, something in his expression when he saw the arrow in the kitchen cupboard. Something in his voice when he said “you can’t back out now” that made Clint think that along with being helpful, this whole email initiative thing was going to be, well - that it was going to be
fun
.