Summary: Post-TWS Bucky is looking for his memories. In a bar he meets a guy who's also looking for something. And it occurs to him that he's free of Hydra and he can make his own choices. So he does.
A/N:Written for kait for M/M rares 2014.
A guy sat down next to him in a bar and ordered a whiskey. He knocked it back in one go before he turned to look at him. “Hey”, the guy said.
He looked back warily. The guy gave him a wry grin. He was good looking in a rugged way with lines around his eyes and a cocky streak around his mouth.
He smiled back. “Hi.” His heart was pounding in his chest. Pierce would never allow him to have contact with civilians, especially not a handsome stranger in a bar in the middle of nowhere. But Pierce was dead even if he couldn’t quite believe it yet.
“I’m Clint. What’s your name?”
Different names flit through his mind. James Barnes. Winter Soldier. Neither of them fit. “James”, he answered, “James Winter.” Half and half, the whole thing felt less like a lie this way. It only occurred to him later that he could lie. Pierce wouldn’t know. No one would know.
“Well, James, can I buy you a drink?”
A memory flashed through his mind. Another bar, a different guy but exactly the same words, the same tone. “Well, James, can I buy you a drink?”
And just like in his memory he said, “Sure”, and looked at the man next to him from under his lashes.
Clint ordered two whiskey for them. This time he didn’t knock it back as soon as it arrive. “So, what brings you here?”
He considered what to say. He had never had contact with civilians unless it had been his objective to shoot them. And his scarce memories unrelated to Hydra weren’t helpful. “Just passing through.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m heading west and you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You could come with me until you know where you want to go.” It sounded casual but he was more than willing to take Clint up on his offer.
“I’d like that.”
“Good”, Clint’s voice dropped and his fingers rested on top of his hand. He suppressed a little shudder at the contact. No one had ever touched him unless it was to put him into that chair.
“Do you...want to get out of here?” He asked, his throat dry. Pierce would kill him if he found out. Pierce couldn’t find out, he reminded himself. Pierce was dead.
Clint grinned. “Best offer I had in ages. You got a room here?”
He nodded. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. Finishing his drink he stood up and Clint followed him. It felt like the most dangerous, most exhilarating thing he had ever done.
“Hey, James”, Clint said as soon as the door closed behind them and pulled him close. He wrapped a hand around his neck and kissed him. Somehow he knew what to do, how to move. He knew he had done it before but not when or with whom. He reminded himself once more that Pierce was dead and decided to follow his instincts. He pulled Clint’s shirt over his head and slid his hands over his chest. They stopped at Clint’s waistband.
“You’ve done this before?” Clint asked breathlessly.
He nodded. “It’s just been some time.” He pushed Clint towards the bed and opened his jeans, pulling them down before pushing Clint over.
“I feel underdressed”, Clint said.
He licked at Clint’s half-hard cock. “Are you complaining?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it”, Clint grinned and spread his legs a little further so he could settle between them more comfortably. This was familiar territory. He knew what to do, how to make Clint moan and curse him in equal measure.
“Hey James, stop”, Clint’s voice sounded ragged and he pulled away immediately. He had done something wrong? But Clint looked at him with glazed over eyes and added, “If you keep doing that, this night is going to be finished pretty soon. Thought you may want to do a bit more. I have to warn you. It does involve taking your clothes off.”
His breath hitched in his throat. He wanted Clint more than he could say. His whole body seemed to scream for him. Briefly he wondered how long it had been since the last time he had done this but his memories were too hazy to be put into any kind of timeline. He was about to take his shirt off when he remembered something.
“My arm, it’s not...it’s not real.” He pulled his shirt over his head gingerly, afraid his left arm would spook Clint into leaving.
“Holy shit”, Clint said, eyes wide. “As far as arm prosthetics go, yours is pretty damn cool. I know a guy who would love to take a closer look at that.”
“So you don’t mind?”
“Hell no. And if someone ever does mind you should kick them straight out of your bed.” Clint pulled him closer by his waistband. “You’re hiding some metal parts underneath this too?”
He shook his head. His dick was hard just from the proximity of Clint’s hands.
Clint opened his fly and eased his jeans over his arse and down his legs until he could step out of them. “Can’t say I’m disappointed though”, Clint grinned up at him. “Got lube? Condoms?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t planning for this.”
“Good thing I did. Back pocket of my jeans.”
He fumbled a little trying to find them but Clint didn’t seem to mind. He watched him so hungrily that he could almost think Clint had been waiting for this as long as he had. Maybe Clint had. Who knew?
“Damn”, Clint said, raking his eyes over his body. “You’re so fucking pretty.”
It felt good to hear those words and he couldn’t help but preen a little. A memory flashed through his mind. The last time someone had called him pretty it hadn’t been a compliment.
“Hey James”, Clint said softly into the darkness afterwards. “Why are you really here?”
The need to say something, to express himself was too great. He didn’t need to tell Clint the details but he wanted to tell him something. “I’m running from some bad memories.”
“I know what that’s like.”
“And you? Why are you here?”
“I’m following someone. Unfortunately he has a plane so by the time I catch up with him he’s long gone.”
“Is he worth that much trouble?”
Until recently I thought he was dead. And yeah, he’s worth hell.”
“Would he do the same for you?” The words almost got stuck in his throat.
“He already did.” He could hear Clint smile. “You’ve got someone like that?”
He hesitated. The blonde man flashed through his mind. Steve. His name was Steve he reminded himself. “I hope so.” It was the most honest answer he could give.
Clint kissed him. It tasted like hope if hope could taste like anything at all. “Hope you’ll find them”, Clint said. “Or that they find you. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks”, he said and the connection he felt to Clint, fleeting and deep, was the most beautiful thing he had ever felt. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. So instead he kissed Clint and hoped that maybe this kiss would taste like something Clint was looking for as well.