#barton's halfway house for ex-brainwashed assassins

[kangofu-cb]

I am FULLY UNHINGED about this art. This absolutely gorgeous/stunning/incredible work is by @wyxan for my Halfway House series.

BUCKY WITH A BABY I AM DYING!!!!!!!!!!!! The eyes! The little grey strands of hair! The shadows around his mouth that could! one day! be smile lines! THE BABY!!!!

Also, looking at it, you can fully appreciate why Clint Barton folded like wet paper when asked to hide a world-renowned assassin and his baby.

Anyway this art can be seen in-fic on chapter 1 of part 2: Unbreak the Broken, though it would just as easily fit into the first part.

Read all the parts, honestly, because Bucky (with a baby) shaking off his assassin programing and falling in love is just. My favorite thing! *pathetic whimpering*

[wyxan]

Commission - please do not repost 💜

(reblogs always appreciated!)

For @kangofu-cb’s absolutely gorgeous series Barton’s Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins

[carcrash429]

Hii!

Top 5 fics

Ah geez this is an impossible question to answer, I can't even pick my top 5 of my own fics 😅

Instead, in no particular order, here are 5 of my 'comfort food' fics that are both delightfully enjoyable and highly rereadable :)

starting off cheating by rec'ing a whole series, Barton's Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins by @kangofu-cb (Marvel, Clint/Bucky, 93k words so far)

Starving for the Light by @thepartyresponsible (Marvel, Clint/Bucky, 45k words)

Incandescent by @pantstomatch (Marvel - Stargate Atlantis AU, Clint/Bucky, 6.5k words)

Fieldwork by Rheanna (Stargate Atlantis, Ronon/John, 10k words)

he's a regular disney princess by gendernoncompliant (Haven, Duke/Dwight, 10k words)

[kangofu-cb]

Refresh my memory about Halfway House, because I vaguely remember that I liked it, but I haven't been reading as much fic lately due to school and life??? Pretty please?

Oh lordt.

Halfway House is the fic where what if in AoU Clint brings the team to the farm and instead of Wheaton's heterosexual farm fantasy, it's Bucky and their adopted murder babies.

Have a few lines:

“I’m bringing home a stray,” Clint said, after a moment. 

“If this is like Penelope, you can forget it,” James said, though he didn’t sound upset, just kinda fond. 

“It’s uh-” Clint started, then trailed off. “It’s not a llama,” he said, finally. 

Clint was known for strays. Penelope the llama was the most recent, maybe, but he’d added to the animal menagerie in his own way before. There was a cat that ignored him with all the placid disdain of any feline Clint has ever met, and a puppy with only one eye he named Lucky that lazed in front of the fireplace and did shit-all to help around the farm, plus a couple of chickens to add to the collection. That wasn’t new.

A kid though-

That was something completely different.

James must catch his tone because his voice softened. “What happened?”

“There, uh, there was this kid. On the last op.” 

James sucked in a breath. “You bringin’ her home?” he asked, and it was all Clint could do not to burst into tears. 

“Yeah.” he said, kinda wobbly. “Yeah, I’m bringin’ her home.”

[kangofu-cb]

I'd LOVE to ask you questions about your fics and blorbos!

1) what time frame does halfway house part 4 span? (I'm so excited for it I'll take anything you want to share)

2) is Jason Todd officially one of your blorbos yet??

So the current WIP for Halfway House encompasses the early 2000s, so we still don't have a Steve but we do have goats! And a llama named Penelope! And... some other stuff that's kinda spoiler-y. Plus lots of love and family feels. Sprinkled with some angst. You know, the usual things.

Also yes, Jason Todd is a fledgling blorbo!

Here's a snip from Halfway House!

He dropped the guns he’d been carrying and pulled the bow off his back, adjusting his quiver. “Kid,” he said, as she grabbed something small and clear that looked like a heavy crystal paperweight, “I’m gonna keep you safe,” he assured her. 

She palmed the whatever-it-was and watched him suspiciously, until the doors to the library started experiencing a full-frontal assault. Clint drew back the bow and set himself up between the tiny girl and the people who were determined to bust through the solid-wood doors. 

The men who tumbled through were neither STRIKE nor any of the bodyguards that had been pegged during the pre-mission briefings. They were dressed in body armor and carrying assault rifles, and that’s really all Clint needed to know. He didn’t know if they were here for the kid or they were here for him, but he did know even one stray bullet could be the end of a life that had barely started, so when he aimed, he aimed for kill shots. He wasn’t trying to disable, he was trying to put them down, and he succeeded because if there was anything in the world Clint was good at, it was hitting a target, even when that target was a small strip of skin between a collar and a mask, or the gap of body armor that exposes ribs and spine. 

When it was all said and done, Clint had downed ten unidentified agents, and the tiny girl-child he’d been protecting had crawled underneath the heavy wood desk with her crystal paperweight and her fear. 

“Hey,” Clint said, coming around the edge of the desk cautiously. Rumlow had called out the all-clear, and Natasha said she’d got the data they came for and Bishop besides, and Clint crouched low, pushing the leather office chair out of the way. “You’re safe, you wanna come out?”

The kid tased him. 

[kangofu-cb]

under your scars sounds intriguing!!! i would like to know more if im not too late

You're never too late!

Under Your Scars is the next installment of Barton's Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins! Featuring more Found Family Goodness and animal menageries and like the tiniest bit of angst that makes all of the tooth-rotting fluff that much sweeter!

[kangofu-cb]

Unbreak the Broken

HELLO I AM HERE TO SCREAM

For @charityhawktion​ 2020 I bid on @nivellesart​ and they painstakingly rendered this beautiful scene from Unbreak the Broken and I will be yelling about it for the rest of eternity!!!! 

The fic, if you want to check it out, is part of the Halfway House series, and may not make sense if you don’t read the first installment, but the basic premise is a family can be three assassins and a baby, and that’s fine. This installment is rated T, and no archive warnings apply. Winterhawk, obviously, because that’s the corner of the internet I love to inhabit. 

[kangofu-cb]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton Series: Part 4 of Barton's Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins Summary:

"He couldn’t have everything he’d ever wanted, that didn’t even make sense. The universe didn’t reward a decades-long killer with the kind of home and family and partner he’d always wanted, that wasn’t how it worked."

  An excerpt from the last chapter of Love the Lonely, from James' perspective.

(A birthday fic for @flawedamythyst)

[kangofu-cb]

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Eventually - Relationship Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Original Child Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson Additional Tags: Family Feels, Found Family, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Protective Clint Barton, Clint Barton Feels, small town life, babies are complicated little beings, Mentions of childhood abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, canon typical sad backstories, Natasha Romanov Joins SHIELD, SHIELD Agent Clint Barton, Slow Burn, seriously I am not kidding when I say slow, Accidental Baby Acquisition, the MCU reimagined completely, If Bucky Barnes escaped from Hydra early, 90s typical fashion music decor and internet Series: Part 2 of Barton's Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins Summary:

Sometimes a family is three assassins and a baby, and that's fine.

[kangofu-cb]

in halfway house, how does clint cheer up bucko when he's having a bad day? how does bucko cheer up clint when he's having a bad day?

I am loving these halfway house questions you guys make me want to cry. 

In the eventual present of Halfway House, where things are settled and not confused and Clint and James are ClintandJames, it probably depends on why the day is bad.  A run-of-the-mill bad day probably involves cooking a favorite meal and maybe a shoulder rub or maybe MORE THAN A SHOULDER RUB A really bad day is going to involve a very special combination of taking extra care of Clint while simultaneously kicking his ass a little bit to get him to do what needs to be done.  I don’t want to give away future plot points, but Budapest is coming, and Deaf!Clint is coming, and James is instrumental in healing those hurts while helping Clint realize he is still good and useful and worthy.  

[kangofu-cb]

In HH, if Natasha had been around for James's birthday, what would she have got him?

Natasha is still very much in ‘deadly assassin’ headspace right now, so undoubtedly she would have got him some sort of weapon, but she probably ALSO would have got something like comfort food for him, something they both shared and enjoyed at some point in the past, perhaps even something Russian like dumplings or another simple but filling thing that they maybe picked up on the run and ate. 

[kangofu-cb]

CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE!!!! YOU DESERVE THE WORLD!!!!!! for the prompt thingy, winterhawk, 2012 au ( because I need the Good Timeline)? your writing is beautiful and I really admire it, I'm glad others do too 💜

HELLO LOVELY FRIEND I HAVE NOT FORGOT ABOUT YOU!

This ficlet only.... kind of fits into your request.  It’s set more around 2014, just before AoU takes place, but I think you were looking for ‘teammates’ and ‘found family’ and ‘JESUS GOD JUST LET THEM BE FRIENDS’ and that’s what this is. 

...also it’s an outtake from HH - it doesn’t fit into the storyline mostly for POV reasons - but you can absolutely take it as canon to that particular ‘verse. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Where’s Clint?” Steve asked, looking around.

Natasha narrowed her eyes.  They were crowded into a small corner table at the back of the bar, trying to remain unobtrusive.  Steve had put on a truly wretched ball cap as though it did anything to hide his jawline or his shoulders, and Tony never bothered to hide who he was, but no one had interrupted them so far.  She’d wedged herself into one side of the booth, crammed between Steve and Clint, and last she knew Clint had gone to the bar for another round of drinks.

Tony looked supremely unconcerned, tapping away at his phone, but Sam, at least, was glancing around the room in an effort to spot the only member of the team taller than Steve.

“It’s karaoke night, isn’t it?” she asked, aiming for casual, like she hadn’t done all the recon on this bar before she agreed to go.

“Yep.” Tony’s hands were still flying over the touchscreen of his phone.  “I thought that’d be fun.”

Natasha slid out of the booth just as the familiar strains of something she was sure she recognized from the radio began blaring out of the speakers, all guitar strains and background drums.  Steve followed her just as she recognized the familiar vibrato sound of Clint’s voice.

She pushed her way into the edges of the crowd, trying to get a better view as she whipped her phone out.

“Pick me up!” she hissed, elbowing Steve.

“What?”  He looked adorably confused, his brows pinching as he looked down at her.

“Pick. Me. Up.” she demanded, glaring.  She knew he could lift her without the least strain and she absolutely had to get this on camera.  She recognized the sounds of a sappy love song when she heard one.

Steve gave her one last dubious look, but obligingly lifted her up until she was perched mostly on his shoulder with a perfect view over the heads of the crowd, and sure enough, Clint was crooning into a microphone.  He was a shockingly good singer, if a little flat on the high notes, but what he lacked in skill, he made up for in sheer enthusiasm.

And that enthusiasm was increasingly apparent the more vodka she poured into him, and she’d done all she could to fill him up.

Natasha had missed the first few lines of the song, but she managed to get settled on Steve’s shoulder and her phone steadied with her elbow on his head just in time to catch Clint close his eyes and belt out ‘I will be loving you ‘til we’re seventyyyyyyy’ and couldn’t help her snort of amusement.

James had long since passed seventy, but okay.

“Is that Birdbrain?” Tony asked, from somewhere around her knee.  He sounded utterly flabbergasted, and she used the excuse of the drinks she’d consumed to kick him from her precarious position.  

“Holy shit, Barton can sing,” Sam said, sounding just as confused.

“It’s his fifth best skill,” she told them imperiously, still holding the camera and catching it as he modified the lyrics to ‘when my hands don’t pull the string the same way’.

So he wasn’t as drunk as she’d have liked, but it didn’t matter - this was golden.

“It’s on his resume,” she added.

“I thought that was a joke,” Sam said honestly.  

Natasha didn’t respond, just rolled her eyes.  Honestly, how this team had even survived to this point was beyond her.

“Honey your soul could never grow old, it’s evergreeeeeeen,” Clint sang, hand clutched to his chest with feeling.  He still hadn’t opened his eyes, and she was struggling to hold the camera still as she huffed out a laugh.  

James was going to love this.  This was getting played at holiday dinners.  He was going to owe her big time.  

“What the fuck?” Tony said, rising up on his tiptoes to see.

“Could you idiots shut up?” Natasha asked, zooming the camera in to catch Clint’s expression.

“I’m sorry are we interrupting your love song serenade, Red Scare?” Tony asked, lips curling in amusement.  She kicked at him again, but he dodged.  Which was fair, she hadn’t been trying all that hard.

“When she murders you, just know you deserved it,” Steve told him, amusement coloring his tone.

Natasha reached down and scratched the back of his neck affectionately, watched the tips of his ears turn pink.  

Huh.  

That was something to consider.

Clint belted the end of the song out with all the affection he could muster, falling a little short at the end, but he was blushing and good-humored and grinning when it was over, the crowd cheering in drunken devotion.  She even managed to catch the little bow he did on camera, before stopping the recording and squirming her way down Steve’s side, already uploading the file to the shared cloud drive that only she, James, and Clint were able to access.  Nudging the boys back to the table took almost no effort, and by the time Clint got back with a bucket of beer, Natasha had a round of shots all lined up waiting for him.

“Holy shit, Barton,” Sam said again, reaching for the first small glass and toasting him.  “I didn’t know you had it in you, man.”

Clint flushed even more than the heat of the room could account for, but he took the shot Natasha handed him, eyes scanning over her face, looking for what she didn’t know.  He had to know how she felt after all this time.  They were family.  

“За нашу дружбу!” She said, tossing the shot back.

He obligingly drank the vodka, but he watched her with narrowed eyes the entire time.  Everyone else followed suit, and when all the glasses were clunking against the table, Clint finally spoke.

“What did you do?”

She gave him her best wide-eyed, who me? look.

“That look hasn’t worked on me since ever,” he informed her, caught somewhere between suspicion and amusement.  “At least not since-” He cut himself off abruptly.

“Since Lydia?” she asked, sweetly, knowing exactly what he was thinking about.

He snorted.  “Probably before that,” he told her, “but especially not since Lydia.”

“Well, I haven’t done a thing,” she told him nonchalantly, reaching for one of the beers in the bucket and popping the cap off on the edge of the table.  She passed the bottle to Steve before grabbing another for herself, just as Clint’s phone rang in his jeans pocket, the familiar ringtone making her smirk.

“Aw, hell,” he said, giving her a dirty look that was at least half-flushed pride.

“You’re welcome!” she called, as he dug it out and wove his way through the crowd, heading for the front door. She saw him lift the ancient-looking flip phone to his ear just as he ducked out the door into the relative quiet on the street.

She hummed with self-satisfaction.  He needed a vacation anyway.

“What the hell was that?” Tony asked, and Natasha looked up from where she was absentmindedly cracking open peanuts and picking them out of their shells.  

“What was what?”

Tony gestured expansively to indicate Natasha and the empty space where Clint had been standing.

“That!”

Sam and Steve were staring at her too, Steve in the kind of confusion that usually meant he hadn’t quite caught up on modern culture but he was getting there, and Sam in dawning understanding, though understanding of what she couldn’t be sure.  

“Public service,” she said, tipping her beer back.  “You’ll all thank me later.”

[kangofu-cb]

Under your scars

Hello friend! Congrats, you've requested the next installment of Halfway House! Now that I've suffered through my most recent fic put the WHOB behind me, I'm anxious to get to work on this one! Featuring such fun and interesting plot points as: we add another adopted murder child to the family! Rumlow being a dick! Coulson bails Clint out of jail and discovers his secret murder family! Maggie Olson meddles her adorable little heart out!

Here, have a snip!

Clint threw himself through the library window. The glass shattered, but he figured there was enough noise from the rest of the STRIKE teams to cover his entrance. He had a very specific objective, and most of it was data retrieval, before anyone had a chance to clear out the computer systems.

The library was empty, and Clint reached for his comm to radio his position, when he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and whirled around to see a kid, long dark hair, duck underneath the mahogany desk that dominated the center of the room.

Jesus fuck, had no one ensured the kid wouldn't be here when this went down?

Clint holstered his guns. "Hey," he said, edging his way around the desk. "Hey kid, I'm not-"

He ducked the probably-priceless vase aimed at his head.

Kid had good aim.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Clint tried again, but she was a tiny thing, when he got around the edge of the desk to see her. She had a belligerent little sneer that Clint found strangely endearing, and she had a paperweight in her hand that looked like it was made out of heavy crystal and was bigger than her fist.

That was gonna hurt.

Before she could hurl it at him, though, there was a slamming sound at the door, people trying to bust through.

Clint made a split-second decision, and reached for the collapsed bow on his back. Less noise was better. He unfolded it and reached for his comms before his hands were otherwise occupied.

"Barton here," he said, "I've got a non-combatant in the library."

"Disable and move on," Rumlow said back, and god, Clint hated that guy.

"It's a kid," Clint said.

"Disable and move on," Rumlow repeated.

"Fuck that," Clint muttered, and flipped the frequency on the earpiece. "Coulson?"

"Rumlow is lead on this operation," Coulson said calmly into his ear. "What's the issue?"

"I've got a non-combative in the library, I'm not going to make my objective," Clint said, and reached for the quiver on his back.

"Disable-"

"It's a kid," Clint interrupted.

There was a beat of silence and then, "Romanov, what's your position?"

There was a series of thuds, and then Nat's voice. "Ground floor, near the kitchens."

"Change of plans," Coulson said, and Clint let himself relax into his shooting stance. A quick glance at the kid showed that she was watching Clint with wide eyes, the crystal still clutched in her hand. "Complete Barton's objective, disregard previous assignment."

"On it," she said.

"I'm gonna keep you safe," Clint told the kid, just as the wood of the door splintered through.

[kangofu-cb]

WIP Wednesday

A snippet for @madrefiero who wanted some domestic fluff. From an upcoming installment of Barton’s Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins

Below a cut for anyone who might want to avoid spoilers and/or kissing

“Can I kiss you?” Clint blurted out.

“Move fast, don’t you?” James said, but he was still smiling, still gently amused. “Yeah, you can kiss me. If you want. I don’t put out on the first date though, so if you’re tryin’ to get in my pants you’ll have to work a little harder.”

“Wouldn’t know what to do with your pants if I got into them anyway,” Clint muttered, and he hadn’t really meant for James to hear him but James snorted with laughter anyway, then straightened up as Clint got up from the table and edged his way closer.

The kiss should have been awkward. It wasn’t anything Clint had given any thought to, before he’d asked, wasn’t something he’d considered in the past. It wasn’t calculated or planned, or even leading anywhere, so it should have been an awkward thing.

It wasn’t.

James was shorter than him, which was familiar, but that was where the similarities to all the kisses of Clint’s past ended. He was broad and muscular, and smelled faintly of woodsy soap and some kind of herbal shampoo, and his lips were soft and pliant under Clint’s and his stubble chafed just a little against Clint’s chin. The hands he put on Clint’s hips were tentative, not like he didn’t want to put them there but like he was scared of scaring Clint off.

Clint stepped into it, instead, until their chests were pressed together, and that was different too, but not unwelcome. They’d spent enough time in close quarters, doing chores and sparring, and leaning into one another on the couch as they laughed at bad movies that everything about James’ touch was easy and familiar, except for the taste of his mouth.

James’ hands were tentative but his mouth wasn’t, as he nipped at Clint’s bottom lip and swiped teasingly with his tongue. Clint groaned into the kiss and wrapped his hands around James’ jaw, tangling his fingers in the loosening strands of his hair as they kissed and kissed and kissed. James tasted like the beer they’d both been drinking, and Clint kissed him until there was nothing but the taste of James’ mouth on his tongue, until he’d backed James against the counter and pressed him into it, clinging to him as they devoured each others’ mouths. James’ hands weren’t soft or gentle anymore, they were gripping Clint’s hips hard enough to bruise and Clint-

Clint broke away gasping for air, his chest heaving and his entire body pressed against James and vibrating with arousal he didn’t quite know what to do with. James had a thigh wedged between his, and Clint was pretty sure he’d been grinding against it up until a few seconds ago.

“Fuck,” he managed, and his mouth felt swollen, his lips numb and tingly.

“Not on the first date,” James reminded him, but he sounded wrecked, all his earlier amusement choked down by heated want.

[kangofu-cb]

I love you and all those words you come up with like you’re magic. You’re awesome! How about the scene for „Disarm“?

WHY IS TUMBLR POSTING THESE WITHOUT RESPONSES FROM ME??????

I love you with my entire heart friend <3

“Disarm” was absolutely 100% about the scene where the Winter Soldier stalks out of a kitchen looking like a menacing Kurt Cobain except he’s got this fucking baby and Clint is honestly just so confused? 

I legitimately love that scene so much I had art done for it when I won a charity auction. It was done by @meganedoodledog and I’m posting it here just because I love it so much

But honestly you have to understand that the ENTIRETY of Barton’s Halfway House for Ex-brainwashed Assassins is predicated on ONE SCENE as well, and that one scene has not yet appeared in the series.

[kangofu-cb]

Yesterday called for soft things, and I wasn’t the only one who needed them. Have some soft, domestic winterhawk. Set somewhere in the HH verse.

Written especially for @villainny @1000-directions and @flawedamythyst

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clint woke up alone.

James was an early riser. He’d had years of getting up with kids, dogs, chickens, and various other farm animals, but Clint had never known him to be a late sleeper unless something particularly drastic had happened or Clint somehow coaxed him into staying in bed for something other than sleep.

Still, that didn’t mean Clint wasn’t disappointed to wake up alone when he rolled over into James’ side of the bed to find the sheets cool and empty. He’d been hoping James would stick around so they could go down together, like a show of solidarity.

And also because he’d been hoping to coax him into some other activities as well. One night didn’t make up for weeks of time apart.

He climbed out of bed with a groan and dragged sweatpants up over his hips. He gave a half-hearted attempt to find a shirt in easy reach, but James had picked up the laundry on his way out the door, and Clint wasn’t exactly in the mood to go hunting through the closet. Normally he made it a point to be dressed around the team, but he didn’t have any secrets left to hide at this point anyway. He’d shown his full hand by bringing them here, so at least he could be comfortable in his own house.

When he got downstairs James was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, the radio playing softly in the background and coffee brewing on the counter. Clint walked over and draped himself across James’ shoulders, burrowing his head into the crook of his neck and wrapping arms around his waist.

“Good morning to you too,” James said, aiming for severe and mostly hitting amused.

Clint grunted, just shifting to adjust his weight as James moved, pouring batter and cracking eggs. “Missed you,” he muttered into James’ hair. He slid one hand under the soft cotton shirt James was wearing, fingers skimming along the edge of his stomach in an absent-minded pattern.

James tilted his head back onto Clint’s shoulder in response, a nonverbal reciprocation. Clint dragged his hand higher, splaying his fingers across cut abs and smooth skin. “How are your abs like this?” Clint grumbled. “Tell me you do something insane for these abs when I’m not around, make me feel better about it.”

That got him a snort of amusement as James slid the edge of the spatula under a pancake to test its doneness. “Yeah,” he drawled, only a little sarcastic, “I do two hundred sit-ups every morning before you drag your ass out of bed.”

“Thanks for lying to me baby,” Clint said, nuzzling into James’ neck a little more and edging his hand higher in the shirt until he was twisting the barbell in James’ left nipple and making him arch his back. “I appreciate it.”

“I can tell,” James said, a little bit breathless. “Pancakes are gonna burn,” he warned, but he didn’t sound all that concerned about it.

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Clint murmured, using his other hand to pull James more firmly against his body. “Promise.”

“You’ll eat anything,” James said, but he didn’t protest the manhandling.

“That’s not true,” Steve announced, wandering into the kitchen. “I had to order him a whole pizza one time because I didn’t order veggie, and Natasha said that was his favorite.”

James stilled under his hand, taking in a sharp little breath, and Clint felt his face grow hot. “Is that so?” James murmured, twisting so that he could see Clint’s face.

Clint gave a helpless shrug. “I get homesick,” was all he could muster up, and something in James’ face softened as he pressed his mouth to Clint’s in a kiss that was more tender than heated.

“Oh my god, move,” Natasha said, as she sauntered in behind Steve. “You’re burning breakfast.” She snatched the spatula out of James’ hand and hip-checked both of them out of the way, flipping pancakes on the griddle with practiced ease.

James let her take it, shuffling around Clint and separating them, much to Clint’s general disgruntlement. He reached for the bag of oranges on the counter and began rapidly slicing them in half, pulling a pitcher down from the cabinet as he did it, looking thoughtful as he did it, his gaze a million miles away. He squeezed all but two oranges methodically into the pitcher, his metal hand doing a better job than any juicer they’d ever owned. It made Clint a little hot under the collar, that display of strength. Or it would if he had a collar.

The last two oranges got squeezed through cheesecloth into a tall glass, and James handed it to him with that same thoughtful look on his face. Clint took the glass with a fond smile. He must have done something special to get strained orange juice, because James typically told him to suck it up when Clint complained about pulp. He raised the glass to his lips without breaking eye contact, only to have Steve poke him in the side.

“Never seen these before,” he commented, his fingers brushing over the ink on Clint’s ribs.

He wouldn’t have, because Clint was always careful to keep them covered, either with clothing or bandages or tape on his ribs like he’d recently been injured. The tattoos weren’t large, but they were meaningful - two arrows across his ribcage, the shafts scrawled with each of the kids’ names. He’d had them for years and years, long before the Avengers Initiative. Natasha had given him grief about identifying marks, but that hadn’t stopped him from getting those or the bands on his right hand ring finger. Bands that matched the ones on James’ hand, one for every year they’d been legally married. They were due to get the fifth band this year.

Clint hummed noncommittally at the unspoken question in Steve’s voice. He’d explained himself as much as he was going to last night, and he was sure Steve could work out the details of the arrows - he’d been an artist after all. He drained the last of the juice and then sat his glass on the counter with a quiet thump.

“Thanks for the juice,” Clint told James, eyes roving over the breadth of his shoulders and the rapidly-fading purple marks on his collar bone.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” James drawled, smirking.

Nat muttered something unflattering in Russian. “Stop flirting over burned pancakes and orange juice, for god’s sake,” she grumbled, shuffling pancakes onto a plate and reaching for the batter. “Go upstairs and get it out of your systems, we have things to do today.”

Clint snorted a laugh, but it didn’t stop him from reaching for James, didn’t stop James from reaching for him, fitting his metal hand over the edge of Clint’s hip, his fingertips lining up perfectly with the purplish bruises already there. “I dunno if we can get it out of our systems that fast, Nat,” he admitted, grinning down at James.

“Shut up and go away,” she ordered.

“Are they always like that?” Clint heard Steve ask, as he and James scooted out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs, avoiding the creaky board on the third step.

“Worse,” Natasha said, but she sounded fond. “They’ve been like that forever,” she added. “Took them nearly two years to figure it out, but they’ve been gross about it ever since.”

“We’re not gross,” Clint hollered from the stairway.

James laughed at him, low and quiet, his lips curled at the edges. “We’re a little gross,” he said, keeping his voice pitched low.

Clint shrugged. “I love you,” he said instead of arguing.

“Yeah?” James said, still smiling that small, private smile. “Well, let’s go be gross about it.”