@fandomforoz art for @letsallsleepoverwork, who came up with the absolutely adorable idea of the hawkeyes braiding Bucky’s hair and painting his nails! thank you!!
I thought this was cute so I wrote a story for it.
Practice on Me
New York in August, Bucky thinks, is a special kind of hell.
He’s laying on the floor of his apartment with the shades all drawn
and a fan blasting directly on him. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers.
His entire body is pressed to the cool hardwood of the floor. There’s a
cold washcloth over his forehead. An iced water sitting next to him.
And yet none of it is making a dent in the heat. It’s thick. It’s awful. It’s like breathing soup.
“Definitely hell,” he says to the dark room. “One-hundred percent, Grade A, whole wheat hell.”
His phone rings. Bucky cracks an eye open, then gropes around on the floor for it until he can stab at it. “What?”
Clint’s voice echoes through the speaker. “Oooh, you sound angry. What’s wrong?”
“I’m hot,” Bucky says. “My air conditioning is broke, and the guy can’t fix it until Friday.”
“Oh god.” Clint sounds horrified. “That’s the worst thing I’ve heard
today.” He pauses, and then says, “Well, second worst. My favorite taco
guy was out of the spicy guacamole. I had to settle for regular.”
“It must be hard being you,” Bucky says dryly, and Clint laughs. “Anyway. What do you want?”
“I was going to ask if I could come over,” Clint says. “But I think now it would be better if you came to my place instead.” Keep reading
found @ 40 likes ON 2020-05-25 08:59:27 BY ME.ME