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This was not Bucky’s first rodeo and in the world of shooting competitions, everyone knew everyone. If not personally then by name and reputation. The current competition had been a tourney that sent competitors through various timed events until they whittled down the competitors to the final three. Other than Bucky there was Clint Barton who Bucky actually did know personally. Bucky’s husband Steve had worked with Clint and his wife, Natasha, on some joint task force between the Army and SHIELD, the agency Clint and Natasha both worked for. Small world that it was, it turned out that Bucky and Natasha had actually met in Russia years back when she was still going by Natalia. The four of them had hung out in a non-professional setting a few times after the task force was disassembled and the couple had even helped Bucky get a job with SHIELD, training new agents.
Bucky had initially left the Army minus one left arm and plus one purple heart and immediately got scooped up by an incredibly sketchy security firm called HYDRA that seemed to be up to a lot more than simple security jobs, but Bucky felt like he couldn’t say no. Especially not when they offered him an amazing cybernetic prosthetic arm as a sign-on bonus. Of course when he tried to leave they claimed, according to his contract, the arm was their property and they had a vicious pack of lawyers ready to back them up. But thanks to Clint and Nat hooking him up with SHIELD he ended up getting not only a new job but a new arm, and an infinitely better one at that, through Stark Industries.
So after everything Clint and Nat had done for him, he considered Clint one of his closest friends and honestly enjoyed competing with him. They spent enough time goofing off at the SHIELD firing range together that they knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses pretty well. He knew that between the two of them it would be a damn close contest, so he had to wonder who it was that was going to be going against them.
“What do you know about this guy, Wade Wilson?” Bucky asked Clint as they met up at the large outdoor range the competition was being held at. Bucky had been keeping up with the times and scores of the previous competitions leading up to the final three and Wilson had been consistently impressive. Enough so that Bucky had done a little googling to learn more about the guy, but apparently he was new to competition so there wasn’t much to go on. Then again, Clint always knew more than he had any right to. He and Natasha had that in common.
“Oh shit, yeah, ok. So this guy Wilson was apparently some kind of Canadian Spec Ops badass. He got pretty severely fucked up, but no one knows if it was in his time as Spec Ops or if it was after because apparently he’s been doing mercenary work for the past several years. Can’t confirm that of course, but supposedly the guy’s trying to go straight nowadays. Looking for legitimate work and apparently entering shooting competitions to scratch his itchy trigger finger a little,” Clint said with a shrug. Considering how much he’d said, Bucky was actually surprised Clint knew so little. The guy sounded like a ghost story and Bucky knew from ghost stories.
Then Bucky actually met the guy and learned that nothing really prepared you for meeting Wade Wilson. The guy was physically imposing to say the least, even from a distance, and that coming from Bucky “Brickhouse” Barnes, the man married to Steve “the peak of human perfection” Rogers. He had to be at least 6’2” and muscled from head to toe. He wore black tactical pants and a red long sleeve shirt, black gloves, and a red and black ball cap, almost every inch of skin covered with fabric where at all possible. Bucky saw why the moment the guy got close enough to see his face. Bucky had seen some fucked up scars and injuries in his day, but if Wade’s clothes were hiding more scars like the ones covering most of his face and trailing down his neck, he took the cake hands down. In contrast to his heinously scarred face, his brown eyes seemed bright and alert and he had a cheerful grin when he came to greet his fellow competitors and their spouses.
“Hey! You must be Bucky and Clint, right? I’m Wade. And who might this lovely creature be?” Wade gave Bucky a high five, then awkwardly switched to a fist bump when he got to Clint before turning his attention to other two.
“This is Natasha, my wi- Uh, she lets me be married to her,” Clint said, only stopping short of calling her “my wife” when he caught the glare she threw his way. She hated being referred to that way, said it made her seem like one of his possessions. This is my wife, that’s my dog, and over there’s my couch. At this point Bucky kind of thought Clint actually enjoyed coming up with alternate ways to tell people they were married. “She lets me be married to her” was probably the most accurate and appropriate one yet, truth be told.
“Nice to meet you, Natasha, but, no offense, I was talking about this tall blonde drink of water. My lord, you are a handsome man,” Wade said, looking at Steve in awe.
“Alright, calm down, pal. This is Steve, my husband,” Bucky said, stepping in front of Steve. Steve was plenty capable of defending himself in just about any situation in the world short of unwanted compliments. Strangers flirting with him just confused him and embarrassed him to the point that he basically shut down. As it was, he was standing there frozen in place, his face flushed red as a tomato, probably praying the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Natasha, however, seemed to be suddenly in much brighter spirits than she’d been only a moment before now that the stranger was making Steve uncomfortable instead of her.
“Woah, message received, Barnes. Don’t worry, just a little friendly compliment. You’re all very pretty. And truth be told, tall and blonde ain’t even really my type,” Wade said with a flippant hand wave. He then proceeded to talk all three sets of ears off (Bucky could have swore he saw Clint turn his hearing aids down when he thought no one was looking) while they waited for the competition to start. He waxed poetic on every subject from Bea Arthur to the eternal debate of tacos vs. burritos with little to no segue between one subject and another and a couple times he seemed to actually be arguing with himself while they simply acted as an audience to his madness. On top of that, he kept looking around distractedly like he was either waiting for something or just confused as to where the hell he was. Either option seemed reasonable by that point.
Eventually, Bucky, Clint, and Wade were called onto the range while Steve and Nat watched from a safe distance back, ear protection securely in place. Steve gave Bucky an encouraging nod and a thumbs up while Nat just gave Clint her usual inscrutable half-smile that could mean anything from “I believe in you!” to “If you lose, you’re sleeping on the couch for a week.” Knowing Nat, it was probably a mix of the two.
Bucky noticed Wade’s vibrant almost wolfish grin had dropped for a moment and he suddenly realized that Wade didn’t have anyone there rooting him on. He felt a flash of pity for the man, but immediately pushed it down. Wade was nuts, but he was a top competitor and had clearly been through some shit Bucky probably didn’t even want to imagine. He didn’t need Bucky’s pity, or anyone else’s.
Despite Bucky trying to push Wade’s suddenly more somber attitude out of his mind, the first round seemed to provide ample evidence that something might actually be up with the guy. Clint and Bucky both put in a helluva showing on the first handgun round, blasting through the course within one second of each other (a second that Bucky was never going to let Clint get over, mind you).
Wade, however, was lagging behind. Not by enough to put him out of the running, certainly not in the first round, but Bucky had seen his times from the qualifying rounds and he was definitely not performing to his usual standards. He also noticed Wade was still looking around anxiously every chance he got and he wondered if maybe Wade was having some kind of episode that was throwing him off his game. Bucky was all too familiar with the mental and emotional baggage guys like them carried and he knew how much a bad day could really fuck you up. He decided to check in with him between rounds.
“Hey, Wade. You all good, man? You seem a little distracted,” Bucky asked, coming over to where Wade was aggressively chewing on a Twizzler like he intended the thing pain.
“Hm?” Wade said, then he forced his usual smile back up as he caught the worry in Bucky’s eyes.
“Oh yeah, as peachy as a dog dick in a mouse trap,” Wade said, waggling his non-existent eyebrows. Bucky openly cringed at the vivid imagery, but when Wade silently offered Bucky a Twizzler, he took it. They stood there in awkward silence for a moment, chewing the rubbery candy before Bucky finally left to go talk to Steve a little before the next round. He made sure to invite Wade to join them, but he waved Bucky off without looking away from his attempt to braid three Twizzlers together.
The next round was a series of targets moving from short range to long range, some of which were moving. The contestants had to switch from a pistol to a rifle midway through and account for reloading when necessary, so it was a doozy. Wade was set to go last, and honestly Bucky wasn’t expecting much out of the guy. He seemed to get more dour by the moment. Bucky’s turn was solid, but Clint blew it out of the water in his turn. He was a lot quicker on his feet than Bucky and that had been to his advantage that round. They were resetting the range for Wade while Wade sat cross-legged on the ground, either giving himself a pep-talk or a really harsh verbal beatdown… possibly a combination of the two.
Bucky and Clint were hovering awkwardly, feeling a little unsure about how to go about getting the guy’s spirits up when they noticed a kid joining Steve and Nat on the sidelines. He was short and thin, but clearly had a nice build for a smaller guy, like a gymnast maybe. He was brunette and had on a pair of glasses that were either nerdy or hipster-y (Bucky did not fucking know the difference for the life of him) and Bucky would have guessed him to be maybe 19 or 20.
“Yowza, who’s the twink?” Clint asked, elbowing Bucky in the side with a saucy leer. Bucky just laughed and elbowed him back twice as hard, for Nat’s sake. Just then the kid yelled in their direction.
“Woo! Kick it in the ass, Daddy!” As soon as the kid yelled Wade jumped up and turned with wide eyes and waved, his grim face suddenly bright as a fucking summer day. Hell, for a moment there Bucky would have even gone so far as to call him handsome, scars and all. Clint, meanwhile, had gone white as a ghost. Apparently, he’d just suggestively referred to a former Spec Ops and possible mercenary’s son as a “twink”.
“Fuck, if he shoots me, tell Natasha I hate that fucking ficus tree in the living room. She’ll know what it means,” Clint said. Bucky just laughed and patted his friend on the back.
“Dude, you’re fine. I don’t think he heard you and if he did, he’s in too good of a mood to care. Look at him, the guy’s walking on fucking rainbows and shitting glitter. Must’ve been waiting for the kid to show up this whole time. Guess that’s why he was so down,” Bucky said. Clint looked over and found that Wade definitely looked far from murderous. In fact, he looked positively chipper and a lot more focused than he’d been previously. By the end of his round, Clint and Bucky both had to pick their jaws up off the floor because Wade had fucking smoked them with his time.
They all walked over to where Nat, Steve, and the kid were waiting while Bucky tried to guess how old Wade was. He’d thought he was too young to have a kid that age, but then again it was pretty hard to tell with the scars. He was in good shape, but Bucky had worked with a dude named Brock at HYDRA that was easily fifty, but had the body of a thirty-something fitness model so that wasn’t really a solid way to judge. Plus, he’d guessed the kid to be about nineteen at the youngest, but he could have been a little younger than that. Clint looked as confused as he did, probably more stuck on the concept of Wade being anyone’s father rather than the whole age logistics of the situation. Nat and Steve already seemed to be fast friends with the kid, chatting cheerfully as the guys joined them.
Wade immediately put an arm around the kid and pulled him in close, kissing him on the top of his head while the kid just grinned and rolled his eyes at Steve and Nat as if to say, “See what I put up with?” They just smiled back at him.
“I’m guessing you met the other members of the cheering section already so this is Bucky and that’s Clint. Guys, this little magical sunbeam of wonder is my Petey,” Wade said, giving the kid another over-affectionate kiss to the top of his tousled head.
“Dear God, please just call me Peter,” the kid pleaded before shaking both of their hands and telling them it was nice to meet them. Bucky mentally added his politeness to his mental list of reasons as to why there was no way this kid was Wade’s. Clint was brusque and terse, probably keeping a nice safe distance so that neither Nat nor Wade would catch on to his previous lecherous comment about the kid. Before they had much chance to get to know Peter other than the fact that he was, in fact, a college student (apparently a group project had been the cause of his lateness) and an amateur photographer who was all-too-eager to fish his camera out of the bag to get some shots of them competing. He offered to get some good ones of Bucky and Clint too which pleased Steve and Nat immensely.
Wade seemed reluctant to let go of Peter, but Peter pushed him away and told him he was going to mess up his good luck if he didn’t get going, whatever that meant. Bucky wondered if Wade didn’t get to see the kid much or something, the way he acted like he didn’t want to let Peter out of his sight. He supposed he probably didn’t if the rumors about his previous line of work were right. Hell, maybe Peter had been part of the reason for Wade’s decision to go on the straight and narrow… ‘bout twenty years late, but hey Bucky wasn’t judging.
They went through a sniper round which Bucky actually won, but by the skin of his teeth. Clint was seething at placing third in that round. Wade went in for a big hug, but Peter stopped him and instead tucked himself under Wade’s arm again.
“Daddy, you are determined to jinx yourself,” Peter said with a warm laugh.
“Can’t possibly, baby boy. You’re my good luck charm!” Wade said with a cheerful laugh.
“Well then you should listen to me!” Peter said. Wade just rolled his eyes and tousled the kid’s hair lovingly. Meanwhile, Steve was aggressively massaging Bucky’s stiff shoulders in preparation for the next round; the dreaded obstacle course round. It was like the second round, but on steroids. Instead of travelling down the length of a range, they were actually maneuvering through a real obstacle course with set targets and reload stations throughout. Some stationary targets, some moving, all at varying distances. Bucky was not looking forward to going against that acrobatic bastard, Barton, but now he was officially wary of Wade. Superstition or no, Peter showing up had definitely given Wade’s performance a hell of a boost.
Not surprisingly, considering Bucky’s right shoulder had been killing him and caused him to fumble pulling himself over a wall, Clint beat Bucky’s score quite handily. What was surprising was how goddamn fast that big bastard, Wilson, was when he went tearing through the obstacle course like a force of nature.
“That man has the devil in him,” Clint said and Bucky nodded silently. He’d seen some carnage in his day, but for the first time he was imagining Wade Wilson in an actual battle now that he’d seen him tear up the obstacle course, blasting through targets with maniacal glee, and it was honestly a frightening thought.
Meanwhile, Wilson’s kid looked like he was gonna jump right out of his skin he was so proud. Wade practically floated back to the spectator section, chest puffed up and flush with exertion even through his scars.
“How’d I do, baby boy?” Wade asked, throwing his arm around Peter and tugging him into his usual spot under his arm.
“Oh my god, please don’t try to act modest. It’s so not your style,” Peter said, face-palming to hide his huge grin.
“Aw, come on. I can’t fish for compliments?” Wade asked, poking Peter in the ribs.
“Ok, fine. You’re a total badass, Daddy. You totally fucking killed it and you know it,” Peter said.
“Language,” Wade tutted with a wink, but Peter just rolled his eyes fondly. Bucky tried to imagine the weirdness of being cussed at by your grown kid, but he was still too stuck on the idea of a grown ass man still calling his father, “Daddy” to give it much thought. Still, what the hell did he know? He didn’t have a kid and never had much time with his own dad before he passed so the whole damn concept was a mystery to him. Clint seemed equally baffled by the unique, but clearly very loving, relationship. Nat and Steve, meanwhile, were having a quiet conversation all to themselves that involved far too many sideways glances and giggles for Bucky’s comfort.
“I think they’re mocking us,” Clint said, noticing Bucky’s eyes trained on their significant others.
“That’s fair. We are kinda getting our asses handed to us,” Bucky agreed sullenly.
“You think the kid’s really good luck? Shit, maybe Wilson will let me borrow him.”
“Jesus, Clint, I don’t really think you should be saying shit like that after that ‘twink’ comment you made earlier,” Bucky hissed under his breath. Clint winced and mimed zipping his lips.
The final round of the contest was a night shooting round so they had some time to kill until the sky was nice and dark and the final targets were all set up. In the meantime, they parted ways from Wade and Peter and went to get some food while they had time at the closest Denny’s.
“Maybe Wilson is night blind? God, please let the guy be night blind. Ooh, or maybe the kid has to go home and he’ll be all fail-guy again! I mean, it’s probably almost his bedtime, right?” Clint asked and Natasha elbowed him in the ribs, making him spill his coffee on his lap.
“Aw, coffee, no…” Clint whined and Natasha grinned.
“Seriously, Barton. Talking like that is just asking for bad karma,” Steve chided.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Still, you have to admit the guy wasn’t even in the running until his kid showed up. Just sayin’,” Clint muttered. Nat and Steve exchanged an amused look and Steve suddenly became very focused on his burger.
“Ok, I’m shutting up. I get it, I’m a bitter bastard,” Clint said with a defeated sigh, assuming he was being mocked again.
“Hey, game ain’t over yet,” Bucky said and toasted Clint with his mug of coffee. They finished their meals and headed back to the course, the sky now fully dark and the course likely ready.
They got back to find Wade and Peter already waiting and Wade still munching on a taco out of a fast food bag. Peter was intently focused on his camera, changing the settings to account for the change in lighting.
“Well, last round. It’s been real and it’s been fun, kiddos. Do we say good luck or break a leg in this situation?” Wade asked. Clint shrugged.
“Let’s just not say anything, to be safe,” Bucky said. Wade nodded and gave him a sloppy salute with the taco still in his hand, bits of lettuce flying with the gesture.
“Alright, I’m officially backing away. You get hot sauce in my eye before this round and I may have to kill you,” Clint said, walking away with his hands over his eyes despite the fact that he’d been wearing his purple wraparound shades since denny’s to keep his eyes adjusted to the low light. Still, Bucky had to admit Clint had a point. He didn’t think Wade was that devious, but the guy was unpredictable enough that he backed away just in case and let Steve work on his sore shoulder for a little before his turn. His physical therapist basically begged him everytime he saw Bucky to stop overcompensating for his left arm and trust his damn prosthetic, but it was a hard habit to break and he’d felt like he had to unlearn it all over again when he got his new arm from Stark.
The night shooting round was set to be intense. The scores were close enough that with a good enough time one of them could overtake the lead Wade had gained in the obstacle course round. Surprisingly, even Wade seemed affected by the tension, going as laconic as Bucky had seen him since the kid showed up.
Peter plugged his headphones into his phone and handed one of the earbuds to Wade. Wade took it and after a moment his frown of concentration turned into a broad grin. Within moments he was singing along to “Eye of the Tiger” in a shrieking falsetto and Peter had to physically put a hand over his mouth to get him to stop, but it certainly did the job of getting the guy out of his head. It was pretty obvious that Peter was beneficial to Wade’s performance beyond simple superstition.
In the distance, Nat and Clint were arguing about a bet they’d made before the competition. Apparently Clint thought that Wade and his good luck spawn were reason enough to change the terms of their bet (terms Bucky really didn’t want to know the details of, truth be told), but Nat wasn’t buying it and told him in no uncertain terms that he’d better kick ass in the next round. Clint looked crestfallen and Bucky tried not to laugh.
“Alright, you ready Sarge?” Steve asked, pulling Bucky close against his back. His own method of being supportive apparently included giving Bucky half a chub as he subtly shifted his crotch against Bucky’s ass and leaned into kiss the back of his neck. Steve had theories about hormones and pheromones and shit enhancing performance and liked to make Bucky sit on his lap while he lifted weights, but Bucky was pretty sure it was all bullshit and Steve was just a horny bastard that didn’t like being called on it. He swatted Steve away, much as he didn’t really want to.
“Cool off, Stevie, don’t want to get indecent in front of the kid. Wade might take offense,” Bucky said with a waggle of his eyebrows. Steve started laughing harder than Bucky thought his comment warranted, but he ignored it and gave Steve a quick peck before heading over to take his turn.
Bucky made a damn fine showing and despite feeling a little iffy about his reload time, he felt pretty confident. Then Clint took his turn and blew Bucky right the fuck out of the water. Bucky was pissed because there was no way he was winning, but he had renewed hope that one of them might beat Wade goddamn Wilson after all. Clint was ecstatic. No, scratch that, he was relieved and, wow, Bucky really didn’t want to know the terms of his bet with Natasha.
Wade gave Peter an unreadable look and Peter just nodded, waving Wade on to the course without another word. No hug, no goofy comments, just a serious nod. Wade chuckled and cracked his knuckles and went to take his turn and Bucky realized he was holding his breath. He took in a gulp of air and watched as Wade took his turn at the night-shooting course. It seemed like it was over before Bucky could even consider taking a second breath.
Fuck Wade Wilson. Fuck Wade Wilson and his devil spawn and their fucking mystical good luck bullshit. Wade’s time was announced, but neither Bucky nor Clint needed to hear it. They were fucked. Clint looked like he might cry and Nat looked heinously gleeful even as she patted his head consolingly. Steve tugged Bucky in and gave him a kiss on the temple, but Bucky was still frozen. He was pretty sure Clint had been right about Wade having the devil in him.
The moment Wade was safely off the course, Peter came flying at him like a human torpedo and leapt into his arms, legs wrapping easily around Wade’s waist and-
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Clint yelped. Bucky wanted to concur, but he was actually choking on his own saliva and Steve was only making it worse by aggressively slapping him on the back.
Peter had essentially climbed Wade like a damn tree and the two were making out like a couple of teenagers on ecstasy. Bucky could actually see their fucking tongues. He was pretty sure he was going to be sick.
“Jesus, Buck, you okay?” Steve asked when Bucky finally straightened, his airway finally cleared (no thanks to Steve whacking the shit out of his back).
“What the hell kind of twisted hillbilly shit is that?” Clint asked, storming over to Bucky so that someone would share his outrage. Steve was grinning like an asshole and Natasha seemed equally amused so Bucky was pretty damn sure they’d missed something big and that they were both about to feel real stupid.
“What do you mean, Clint? Sure, they’re a little enthusiastic, but the guy just won. You can’t expect them not to celebrate,” Steve said, blatantly biting his cheek to keep from laughing in Bucky and Clint’s faces.
“Yeah, I mean, obviously Peter thought his Daddy earned a reward,” Natasha said simply and Steve could no longer contain his laughter.
“How long have you two assholes known Peter isn’t actually his kid?” Bucky finally asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked forward to what was probably going to be weeks of teasing from Steve and Nat. He was used to Steve being the naive one in situations like this and he was not pleased to find the shoe on other foot for a change.
“Um, pretty much since Peter showed up?” Steve admitted, still giggling.
“Yeah, he apologized pretty early on for all the “Daddy” talk. Apparently, it’s usually just a sex thing, but he says it to give Wade a little boost when he competes. That and he won’t kiss Wade until the contest is over, superstitious thing, I guess,” Nat explained as though it made all the sense in the world.
“See! Told you that arousal can boost performance!” Steve started to argue, but Bucky wasn’t hearing another convoluted speech about increasing testosterone or whatever nonsense spiel that jerk spouted to get Bucky on his lap while he did his bench presses.
“Speaking of, I think you can have your workouts alone for awhile, you punk. Letting me swing in the damn wind like an asshole,” Bucky said and Steve’s face dropped into a pout.
“No, don’t even try it. And Nat, you’re a bad influence on him. You’re ruining my husband!” Nat shrugged shamelessly, if anything she looked a little proud.
Peter’s feet were back on the ground at least, but his arms were still around Wade’s neck, planting little kisses on Wade’s neck as Wade walked him backwards toward the others.
“Well gentleman, it was a pleasure destroying you today and I’d love to stay at chat, but I got plans to get this little twink home and have my way with him. You know what I mean, Clint?” Wade said with the most threatening wink Bucky had ever seen (and that was saying something because… Natasha) before throwing a cackling Peter over his shoulder and hauling him away.
Clint had gone white as a sheet.
“I, uh, I think he heard you earlier, buddy,” Bucky said, cringing.
“I’m gonna die, aren’t I? That crazy bastard is gonna kill me,” Clint said. Bucky nodded solemnly, but Natasha interjected.
“That depends. What is it, exactly, that Wade heard earlier? Because he may have to get in line and wait his turn,” Natasha said and Bucky and Steve waved a quick goodbye and ducked out before the carnage started.
“Aw, Nat, shit…” they heard from Clint as they made a beeline for their car. They weren’t sticking around for that argument. Not with so many guns in reach.
“You know for a sharpshooter, you sure miss a lot,” Steve said as they drove away, laughing even harder now that they were in the car.
“Steve, don’t.”
“What? You gonna spank me if I keep talking, Daddy?”
“I want a divorce, Steve, I swear to God,” Bucky insisted, arms crossed over his chest. Steve just laughed harder.
Steve found it considerably less funny when he learned that Bucky was dead serious about making him work out alone for the next couple of weeks. His workout regimen was much less satisfying when it was no longer basically foreplay.