Chapter Text
"coolbeansbucky asked: Prompt: Clint/Bucky - worst sex ever"
*
As far as party games go, Worst Blank Ever isn’t so bad. It can get a little awkward when you’re dealing with the Dysfunction Junction that is the Reassembled Avengers, but they still manage to dig up the cards every now and then and bond over the ridiculous questions.
The only (unspoken) rule they’ve made for themselves is that the answers can never go to the dark places. For example: Worst Meal Ever.
For Tony, hands down that’s in the cave. But he chooses to talk about the time the fish on his plate winked at him.
For Clint, he ate stale food out of circus trash cans on a regular basis, but when it’s his turn to answer, he goes with “Those bus station anchovies I got in Cleveland. You remember those Nat?”
For Bucky, it could be during the war or it could be ‘nothing, Jesus, they shoved a tube down my throat and filled me up with some Hydra gunk I’d have been happy for real food of any kind’ but instead he says, “Steve and I found a jar of jam once with a dead mouse sittin' on top of it but we just spooned out the parts that had touched the thing and spread it on some crackers. We both got so sick after. You remember that Stevie?”
Steve does, and it’s obvious he does, because his smile is so damn happy you’d think Bucky was telling a story about eating donuts made by the Lord up in Heaven, who had handed them the heaven-donuts on a solid gold plate. Not a tale of two poor Brooklyn kids eating mouse jelly.
Anyway, it’s not that they don’t want to be honest with each other. It’s not even that they don’t want to be honest with themselves. The game is supposed to be fun and fun is something they sorely need. They play, they laugh, and they leave feeling like a team.
It’s a Saturday night, they’re a few bottles of beer and Asgardian Cider in, when Tony digs out The Worst Deck. The first few rounds are pretty tame. And then they get to:
||Worst Sex Ever||
Tony’s up first. "There was one time where some guy wanted to pee on me. Not my kink. I said no and he peed on me anyway as soon as my back was turned. Totally ruined my sheets."
The look on Thor’s face is priceless. It’s his 'What even is Earth' face.
“I've never had bad sex,” Bruce says. "I never had sex at all until Betty, that was always good, then I never had sex again."
"God, we need to get you laid,” Tony says. "I’ve got a new mission in life. I’ve found my purpose. Screw Avenging. I'm getting Bruce screwed."
"Please don’t,” Bruce groans. "How about you tackle world hunger first? Cure famine, and then my secondary virginity is all yours.“
"Oh, I’m going to take you up on that,” Tony warns with a grin.
Bruce looks a little worried. Natasha laughs into her bottle.
“I’ve got you all beat,” Clint says. "Worst sex ever: So I’m 18 and there’s this hot townie in Omaha. He’s maybe a year or two older than me. I sneak us into one of the train cars where they keep the animals in the clown show because at worst we’re gonna have to deal with a dog or two but that’s a small price to pay for privacy when you’re surrounded by a few hundred of your closest friends.“
The assembled Avengers are absolutely silent, because while Clint is one of the chattiest of all of them, he never brings up the circus stories. Ever.
"We’re getting to the good stuff and a dog starts licking my foot, right in the arch. Really going at it. I gave it a bit of a kick, and it stopped. Now I forgot to mention, we’re doing this by the light from the tiny windows up at the top of the train car, by the ceiling. Not much light, but you don’t really need much light for a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am.”
Clint makes an in-and-out gesture that gets a groan from Natasha.
“Anyway, we lube up with who knows what, I finally stick it in, and it’s all good. I’m getting to my stride and then the stupid dog is back. It’s licking up my ankle now. So I give it a harder kick. We start getting noisy. The guy’s a screamer. The train car's a'rocking. And then–”
Clint makes a frantic, chomping motion with his hand, reminiscent of a shark attack.
“SNAP. The dog clamps down on my foot. Except it’s not a dog. It’s a bear. Bessie the Bike Riding Bear. I was so busy being sneaky I didn’t realize I’d picked the lock on the wrong train car.”
“Holy shit,” Bruce mumbles.
“The asshole grabs his clothes and runs out, leaves me there to die, but Bessie didn’t eat me. Guess I'd earned a pardon since I snuck her snacks sometimes between shows. She just let me go like it was nothing and huffed back into the dark. My foot was bleeding something fierce, and I dragged myself out of there and had to stand around long enough to lock the stupid door cause I couldn’t afford to get fired over it. Went back to the tent I was sharing with a couple of guys, stitched myself up, and there you have it. Worst sex ever.”
“Katniss wins,” Tony announces. "I’m calling it.“
The group claps, and Clint stands so he can bow and enjoy the applause. That ends the game for the night. They eat some more and chat in smaller groups and it’s late when people start heading for their rooms. Clint’s putting some of the leftover food in the fridge when Bucky steps up behind him.
Bucky never really talks to Clint outside of group talk, so this is a new development. Not one that Clint minds.
"Was that story about the bear true?” Bucky asks.
He's a little hesitant with his words, like he's worried about spooking Clint. It's all kinds of cute.
“Every word,” Clint says.
“Can I see?”
Clint nods toward the nearest chairs and walks over, takes off his sock, and turns his foot a little. The scars are still there. He wasn’t bullshitting them.
Bucky’s stare is so intense it's a little unnerving. "Okay.“
"It doesn't hurt," Clint says. "Doesn't even register in my top ten injuries, to tell you the truth. Just makes for a good story."
“I’m glad the bear didn’t eat you. The whole story was true?”
Clint tilts his head a little since he's already told Bucky once that it was. "Yeah. Beginning to end.“
Bucky looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t. He just gives Clint a small, apologetic smile and then walks away.
"What did Barnes want?” Natasha asks, walking over as soon as Bucky is out of the room.
“To know if my story was true. Guess the bear was a stretch.”
Natasha shakes her head and reaches up to pat Clint’s cheek with her hand. “How a guy as smart as you can be so oblivious… think about your story, Clint. Look at it from a distance.”
Clint thinks about it. It’s an unusual tale, yeah, but not like… impossible.
“I got nothing here, Nat.”
“Your story was about you and a guy,” she said. "That hasn’t come up before. Not so directly."
For a second Clint’s quiet. "Shit. Right. Wait–” He tilts his head and plays back the conversation between himself and Bucky. "Wait. You think he’s interested?“
"He was listening pretty intently,” Natasha says. "Why don’t you go after him. Find out?“
"What if I make an ass out of myself?” Clint asked. "He might just really like bears."
“You do that on a regular basis. Nothing new there at all.”
Clint gives Natasha a hip check as he walks past her, and then ducks the rest of the group, to get to Bucky before he locks himself in his room for the night. Bucky has his hand on his door when Clint arrives.
“Did you ask if that was true because you were surprised about the bear or the boy?” Clint asks.
Bucky lets out a small, huffed laugh. "Caught on, did you?“
"Took me a minute,” Clint says. He leans against the door-frame and looks Bucky in the eyes. "I’ve got more stories. Lots of bad sex to talk about, if you want to sit up and talk."
"Are they all that interesting?”
“Maybe not all of them," Clint admits. "But there was this one time in Budapest…”
Bucky steps aside to allow Clint to enter his room. "How every good story starts."