Chapter Text
“What do you think about a pool up here?” Clint Barton asks Steve as the two of them lounge on the roof of the apartment building in lawn chairs, “I’m thinking about installing one.”
“I hope you don’t mean you install it yourself. Because I have valuable things in my apartment that I don’t want drowned.” Steve replies dryly, taking another sip of his coffee.
“Hah hah, Rogers,” Clint says back, swatting his arm with the back of his hand, “No, I don’t mean installing it myself. I’m not stupid. That’s too much water for me to try to do it alone. I’d hire somebody. I just wanted to know if you think anyone would be interested. Or if I’d be taking on a big job of keeping it clean.”
“Well, I don’t think anyone hates a pool. Since it’s upstairs it’d be safer. No young children come up here unless they’re with someone who can open the lock so there shouldn’t be any little kids stumbling into it and can’t swim. I’m sure it’d be a hit with the rooftop parties. The only think is, it would be quite a job to keep it clean, I’m sure,” Steve says, subconsciously squinting his eyes as he ponders the uses of a pool on their roof, “I’m sure, though, you could hire someone in the building to do it. I bet one of the teenagers would love a little extra cash.”
“I heard something about extra cash,” comes a new voice that has Steve turning around with a big smile, “There you are. You weren’t in your apartment,” Bucky says, shutting the door to the stairwell behind him and walking toward them.
“Hey Buck,” Steve says, standing to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, “Have you two met?”
“Actually, no,” Clint says, standing and holding out a hand, “We took care of everything over the phone, really. He was a vet so I was giving him the apartment anyway. We met very briefly when I gave him the key but I was in a rush. Sorry about that, man. Clint Barton, owner of this humble abode and friend of this angry Chihuahua.”
Steve glares at Clint for the quip but Bucky laughs out loud. It’s one of his deep belly laughs that has him throwing his head back and a face splitting smile, the ones that Steve loves.
“I like you,” Bucky says, taking the proffered hand and shaking it, “Bucky Barnes. Pleasure to meet you. Thanks again for the humble abode and the opportunity to meet the angry Chihuahua.”
“I’m not an angry anything,” Steve grumbles.
“Wait until he sees some guy giving a girl a hard time, or someone spouting off politics,” Clint stage whispers to Bucky.
Bucky laughs against and hugs Steve to his chest, “What are you guys up to?”
“Talking about upgrading the roof up here. We have a lot of rooftop parties and just gatherings for the building and I feel like we need something to spice it up. I was thinking putting in a pool,” Clint says.
“That sounds cool, actually. Only thing is it would be a pain in the winter,” Bucky replies, “Well, if you put it off to the side that would kind of keep it from being a pain. Wouldn’t have to worry about walking around it in the winter and stuff.”
“How about in the winter, we drain it and fill it with those big playhouse balls?” Clint asks.
Bucky startles out a laugh, “I can honestly say I did not see that coming.”
“Wait until you get to know him. You learn not to be surprised by anything he says or does,” Steve says. He’d been content to just sit back and listen to his boyfriend and friend talk. Clint may be a handful but he loves how he will just accept people into his family.
“I think it’s a good idea, though,” Clint says, a faraway look in his eye that suggests he’s contemplating the cost and probably calculating an estimate of how many he would need.
“He also thought bringing home seven baby hawks was a good idea once, too,” Steve mutters to Bucky.
Clint visibly winces remembering the reaming Natasha had given him for that, “Their mother had gotten killed! And Pizza Dog could have mothered them just fine!” he insists.
“Pizza Dog?” Bucky mouths to himself.
“He is a dog, Clint. Not a bird. He can’t feed them pizza,” Steve replies. He’d though Clint was still harboring some emotion over having to turn the birds over to the state animal reserve. It seems he was correct.
“Obviously I would have fed them,” an eye roll suggests Clint thinks that much is obvious, “They don’t call me Hawkeye for nothing.”
“Because you’re a sharpshooter, not because you’ll chew up worms and feed them your offspring,” Steve says, hardly able to contain a laugh at the turn this conversation had taken, but he knows laughing would possibly offend Clint’s delicacy when it comes to animals.
“I’m sorry, Pizza Dog?” Bucky interrupts.
“He’s a one-eyed stray Clint found and took in. He survives on a diet of mostly pizza,” Steve explains.
“It’s not my fault if he won’t eat dog food,” Clint fires back, grinning again as he shoves Steve, pulling his phone out when the ringing cuts through their conversation.
“Is he serious about putting in a pool and filling it with balls?” Bucky asks as Clint walks off, talking on his phone.
“I can never be sure but knowing Clint, he’s dead serious,” Steve laughs.
“I’d do the cleaning if he is serious,” Bucky says, “I don’t really need the money, but it would be something to do until I get a real job.”
“I’ll let him know,” Steve says, leaning up to kiss the dimple in Bucky’s chin, “When did you get up? You weren’t awake yet when I came by this morning.”
“I had a long night so I slept late,” Bucky replies, and Steve can see the barely there dark circles under his eyes once he pays attention.
“Long night? What happened?” he asks worriedly.
“I still have nightmares. Sometimes I go for a week or two without too bad of one, but sometimes they get pretty bad. It didn’t bother me too much when I was over there, but now back stateside, sometimes it’s all I can think about,” Bucky replies solemnly.
Steve reaches up and cups his cheek in his hand, wishing for all that he could that he was able to take away any suffering of Bucky’s, “You should’ve woken me up.”
“Making you stay up with me wouldn’t have helped. It would’a just made you tired and cranky. Or an angry Chihuahua. I haven’t seen that yet and I’m not sure if I’m afraid to,” Bucky teases, effectively shutting down the former conversation of his nightmares.
“I’m not that bad,” Steve insists.
“Well, Chihuahua’s are pretty cute and harmless,” Bucky nods.
“I don’t know. Have you ever seen one angry? They get vicious,” Steve laughs,
“You’re not helping your case, punk,” Bucky grins, shutting off Steve’s replies with a kiss to his lips.
“Lightbulb in our bathroom went out, Nat wants me to come fix it,” Clint says, walking back over, “You guys want to come hang out. You can meet my girl, Bucky.”
“Damsel in distress?” Bucky asks as they follow Clint back over to the door to leave the roof.
“Don’t ever let her hear you call her that,” Clint laughs, shaking his head, “No, far from it. She’s perfectly capable of doing it. She just doesn’t want to-”
“-and because Clinton Francis Barton is more fucking whipped than anyone, he happily serves her beck and call,” Steve picks up.
“Don’t middle name me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Clint says, grabbing him in a sort of messy headlock to ruffle his hair.
“Oh my god, your name sounds so patriotic and American,” Bucky teases.
“Don’t give me that, James Buchanan,” Steve narrows his eyes.
Clint bursts out laughing, “The only reason Steve wins is because he was born on the Fourth of July.”
“Really? You’re just a regular Captain America, aren’t you?” Bucky grins, taking his hand and squeezing it softly. His right hand though, Steve notices. He notices Bucky tends to avoid using his left hand. He reminds himself to bring up – In a completely sensitive way – if he is self-conscious about it or it bothers him at all.
“Nat?” Clint calls as they step off the elevator and he opens their apartment door, “I’m back.”
“In here!” her voice comes from the other room that Steve knows Clint had transformed into a practice area so that Natasha could warm up and practice if she didn’t want to go to the downstairs studio.
When they follow Clint into the room, Steve sees Bucky do a double take, “You know, you should really extend that out leg a little bit, give ya’ more balance.”
“Fuck yo- James?” Natasha asks, rising from her position and turning fully to them, surprise across her face.
“Hello Natalia,” Bucky says, voice dipping down an octave as he speaks the language Steve hears Natasha speak all the time. Russian, her mother-tongue.
“Fancy seeing you here, as well,” She replies, body nearly vibrating with tension. Steve wonders worriedly is she’s going to punch him maybe, and he sees Clint looking ready to step in front of his girlfriend protectively if need be.
“Come here,” Bucky tells her, lifting an arm up.
She saunters over, all the grace of a lifelong dancer, arms wrapping around Bucky and hugging him tightly, a small hitch in her breathing the only definitive show of emotion, “I heard that you were dead.” She whispers tightly.
“You heard wrong, Natalia,” Bucky says, voice a teasing tone though he’s holding on pretty tightly as well, “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“I hate to break up this reunion but umm. What?” Clint says, looking every bit as confused as Steve feels.
They part after another moment and Bucky smiles, “Remember me telling you there was a lot of things I did before going overseas that I didn’t really do anymore?” his question is directed at Steve, though the explanation is for both of them, “I used to dance. For quite a while. Natasha was my partner.”
“You know, I never would’ve guessed you did ballet,” Steve muses.
“Clint never told me your last name when he said he gave the apartment to someone named James or I would’ve come to check out who you were sooner,” Natasha says, walking over to wrap her arms around Clint and lean against him for the quiet support, though she’d quickly reigned in what little emotion she’d shown.
“Well I don’t blame you since you thought I was dead,” Bucky says and Steve shivers just at the mere thought, “Apparently several people were misinformed about the accident when it happened. One of them being my mother.”
“I bet Winifred was a mess,” Natasha says, lips quirking into a smile, “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Isn’t that the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Bucky snarks.
Natasha rolls her eyes, “Come down to the studio with me whenever you’re free. We can dance.”
“I haven’t danced in a very long time, Nat,” Bucky says.
“So?” She says, turning to Clint then, obviously done with showing her near show of emotion, “Both lightbulbs in the fixture blew so you’ll need to change both of them,” she tells him, patting his hip and smiling innocently.
“What am I, your slave?” Clint teases.
“Well technically, a landlord is supposed to take care of his property,” Steve supplies.
“Oh thanks for the help, Rogers,” Clint quips, though there’s no fire behind it.
“Just doing my duty, you know. Helping out,” Steve says with a grin.
“He is Captain America, you know.”