So this one was gonna be a Halloween special with a twist and then this sat in my drafts for.. over seven mONTHS. Oof. Well, it's been edited and the twisty twist is gone! Just some old-timey gay. (Inspired by the podcast Lore by Aaron Mahnke, Episode #89 called Fanning the Flames. Original story from 1939)

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was a handsome fellow, anyone with eyes could tell. He had all the girls after his hand and twice that amount of boys wishing they were him. But he never paid those girls any mind. See, in a world that hated what he was but respected his profession, James was gay.

Only a few knew though and that was those James shared his unit with. Every one of The Howling Commandos knew and God help you if they caught anyone bullying their Bucky over what parts he liked. So of course on that summer evening in the O'Henry Ballroom on a few days break in Chicago, Bucky had his eyes scanning the crowd for cute boys that might swing his way.

Then it hit him. Literally.

A young man in a white dress shirt and pressed clean black slacks with sleek loafers stumbled into him, jacket slung over his shoulder. He had a cheeky grin as he apologized profusely.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Bucky smirked, taking in the boy before him. He had to be 21 at least to be in there, but he couldn't have been much older. "How 'bout you make it up by letting me buy you a drink, hm?"

The blond smiled and shook his head. "Sounds like you'd just be doin' me a favor, Mister."

"It's James, but my friends call me Bucky." Bucky hooked an arm around the younger and pulled him up to the bar. "I'll take a beer and whatever he's having."

"Whiskey, neat please." He crossed his arms, gently leaning into the broad military officer. "Clint, by the way. Don't have a nickname."

"I'll just call ya Sweetheart, hm?"

Clint giggled and nodded as the bartender slid them their drinks. Bucky took a swig but Clint held onto his. "So, Bucky, why ya all dressed like that?" He asked, gesturing to the uniform he was in.

"I'm a Sergeant, part of the 107th, baby," Bucky said proudly.

"God, you're part of Captain America's team, ain'tcha?"

"Yeah but Stevie's an idiot," Bucky scoffed and crossed his arms. He wasn't gonna lose this perfectly beautiful young, probably gay, man to his best, straight as a flag pole, friend. Nuh-uh.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Clint smiled, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "But saving you, Sarge is the smartest thing he's done." Of course, the public had gotten wind of that. The heroic escapades that made Captain America a real Captain- all to save his childhood friend.

"I'd have to agree there." Bucky finished his beer and set the mug back onto the counter. Clint took a few sips as the brunet watched him, lips twitching into a smirk. He set the glass down, mostly empty, and cocked his hip to the side.

"You wanna dance?"

"With a beauty like you? Of course," Bucky grinned, taking Clint's hand and pulling him onto the dance floor. The music was loud and everyone around them twirling made a hazy whirlwind out of James' head. He knew he had his hands on Clint's waist and he felt those soft hands around his neck but that's about all he was sure of.

"You're the best man I've had the pleasure of meeting in a long, long time," Clint hummed as the two shuffled out of the crowd and onto the street where James' borrowed car was parked.

"I sure hope I'm the last, too. Wouldn't want a doll like you running off to some other, eh?" Bucky smirked, dusting his fingers up and over the side of Clint's head. He stopped them, pulling on Clint's chin so all he'd have to do was lean down.

"Watcha thinkin', handsome?"

"How much I wanna kiss you."

"Then you better." Clint's sweet blue eyes glittered as James displaced the distance between their lips. The kiss was slow and passionate, everything a man like Bucky needed since being away for so long. And besides, not many men would risk this but Clint was certainly something else. They were lucky no one was outside with them, no judgemental eyes prying on their private moment, no one to tell them how wrong it was because oh God if it was so wrong, then why did it feel so right?

"Mmnh," James breathed softly, his palm pressing firmly to the small of Clint's back. "I like this a lot, Sweetheart."

"How long are you in town?" Clint let his own hands linger around James' jaw.

"Another day, we leave Sunday."

"Only one?" He whined, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. James smiled and pressed a brief kiss to it.

"'M sorry."

"No, no, don't be," Clint sighed, smacking a grin over his disappointed expression.

"Where are you staying?" James asked quickly and yanked a stub from his pocket, a pen quickly following.

"Uh," Clint paused. "I'm not really in town very long either. Just until Tuesday, then we move out too. I don't have much of an address either."

"Move out?" James furrowed his brow.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Yeah, sure," James nodded, still completely confused. Clint slid his wallet from his jacket pocket and flipped it open.

"Special Agent Barton with Strategic Scientific Reserve. Kind of a coincidence both our units were here tonight, huh?" He laughed and James stared at the badge. Yeah, that was the same man, only his info said he was twenty-three which had to be a lie.

"Guess so," James nodded. "Being deployed then?"

"Yes, sir." Clint ran his hands down and over James' chest. "But not tonight, and neither are you."

"What're you implying, Agent?" James smirked and Clint almost groaned at the use of his title.

"That maybe we make the most of our time and head back to my hotel-"

"Barton!"

James jerked away from Clint, face turned down and covered in a deep red flush. Clint, on the other hand, sighed, holding his hand around James' wrist tightly. That made Bucky look up at him, his fear diminishing only slightly at the clear recognition on Clint's face.

"So this is where you got off to." The woman let all her weight fall to one hip and she looked James up and down. He shifted uncomfortably. "Good to see you finally letting loose.

"Bishop" Clint sighed. "What d'you need?"

"Wallace wants us out tonight, says we-" She stopped and eyed James again, this time much more cautiously. "New target, briefing in the car to the airport."

"Tonight?" Clint frowned, looking up at James. "But we-"

"No time." She took a few more strides forward and out of the street light. "Sorry I spooked you, Sergeant Barnes, I tend to have that effect on men. Still scare the hell out of Clint here." Clint scoffed.

"That's alright, ma'am," James mumbled. "How is it you know me?"

"Ways," She grinned. "Barton, c'mon."

"Gimme a min'" He muttered slowly and she nodded, moving back into the ballroom. "Bucky.."

"Go," James said softly. "You gotta go."

"But I-" Clint whispered, his voice very delicate now. "I wanted tonight for us. We're never gonna see each other again, you know that."

"Seems like you've got rank over me," James shrugged. "Maybe try finding my station, write to me and I'll write back."

"James.."

"Clint, go," He pushed again, kissing the space between the blond boy's eyebrows. "This isn't the last time we see each other."

"God, what I'd kill to stay with you."

James laughed softly at his words and kissed his lips again, savoring the feeling, the flavor, then pulled back. Clint slowly let go of him and walked to where Bishop and three other men stood outside the building. He waved. James waved back, adjusting his uniform. A month later in the Swiss Alps, James sat with Dum Dum and Steve as Peggy spoke from over them. The sound of an approaching vehicle stalled her only for a moment but set all the men on obvious edge. Dum Dum stood and Steve gripped his shield tight. But James, he squinted at the oncoming truck.

"Settle down, boys," She chuckled lightly. "We're not the only ones on this assignment. Had to call in the cavalry."

"Thought we were the cavalry," Morita scoffed.

"You haven't been taken in this place, tortured, and made it out alive, have you?"

That shut them up enough to silently wait for the arrival of the truck. James couldn't help but wonder who the hell in the SSR could've made it out of the compound alive, alone. This was the place Zola was headquartering his operations from, experimenting on and dismantling human beings at.

"Agent Carter." The man in the passenger seat nodded at her as he stepped down.

"Wallace."

"Boys, this is Ramirez, and Bishop," He gestured to the armed man and woman who stepped out behind him. James knew that name, Bishop, from somewhere, he just couldn't place where. "And I'm sure most of you know-"

"Sir, please, I am no trophy child."

Fuck. He knew that voice. James heaved a sigh and watched the blond who'd just dropped from the covered vehicle very carefully.

"Agent Barton," Wallace huffed.

Clint.

"You the one they said was tortured in there?" Steve elbowed Jones, how shrugged sheepishly.

"I uh, I suppose that's me, yeah?" Barton laughed, almost uneasy, and turned his gaze to James. "Hey, Sarge."

"Clint."

"You two know each other?" Steve quirked his brow up.

"The O'Henry Ballroom," Bucky mumbled softly and fully took in Barton. He had a few bruises around his cheek and temple and a rather obvious limp. "This is- This is Clint."

"Oh," Steve nodded and looked up at him. "Oh."

"I see you've told the Captain then," Clint hummed, brushing past Wallace as he did so.

"Care to tell me what you're talking about?"

"Don't wanna know, Butch," Bishop smirked at Wallace as they settled in for the night.

"Hey.." James mumbled later that evening, slowly taking a seat down beside the blond. "Hey, Sweetheart."

"Mmnh," Clint moaned and tilted his head to the side. "Have I missed that voice of yours. You're from Brooklyn, right?"

"Yeah, I am," He nodded. "Did you ever get hold of my letters?"

Clint pulled a few crumpled papers from the inside of his coat and held them up. "Yes, sir, I did, after I got out."

James adjusted, his face holding a question but it was as if he couldn't find it in himself to ask it. Like maybe he didn't really want the answer, or thought he couldn't bear it.

"Go ahead," Clint hummed, shifting in closer.

"What happened in there? To you?" James turned to watch his face as it twisted before returning to it's constant solid expression.

"The usual when you're a spy and get caught." The shrug he gave was light and meant to completely negate the importance.

"Clint.." Bucky sighed and ran a hand over Clint's shoulders and down the other arm to rest on his bicep. "I'd like to know."

"Experimentation, brain manipulation, mind mush in a gas chamber. And before all that, they had to get me to submit you know." Clint rested his head on James. He kept his voice even. "Broke my patella, which hurts like a bitch, you oughta know. Busted me a few good ones too, dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs."

"Hon," James breathed, leaning to kiss the blond's sweat slicked forehead. "I'm so sorry.. Were you sent alone?"

"A Stupid and irrelevant question I don't wanna talk about right now," Clint shook his head and looked at James. He reached up and brushed his fingers through the short hair at the side of his Bucky's head. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I suppose that's fair."

"If I hadn't left, that night in Chicago, would we have..?" Clint bit his lip.

"I imagine so," James nodded softly, his free left hand drifting to the blond's thigh.

"Cool," He grinned softly. "Now, could you pull me up to speed on this whole.. super HYDRA train heist you're executing tomorrow?"