"Get out of there, now!" Bucky yelled through the coms, his voice piercing into Clint's ear.

"I'm fuckin' tryin'!" He snapped backed, grabbing a stapler off a desk and chucking it at the glass window he was running towards. He could hear the soldiers behind him gaining fast, he had no choice. He jumped through the shattered window, twisting and fletching a grappling arrow to catch his fall.

He was too late.

His collar was grabbed harshly through one of the lower, already broken by the blast windows, and he was dragged back into the fight. Whoever it was yanked him in hard enough that it sent both of them tumbling over each other on the floor. Clint skidded to a stop on his shoulder, quickly scrambling to his feet and aiming his arrow at his attacker. He sighed heavily and lowered his weapon as the man dragged himself to his feet.

"God, you didn't have to do that."

"You were falling, what else was I supposed to do?" Bucky grunted as he dusted his uniform off.

"Not that," Clint huffed as he jogged back to the window and looked down, then up, and then down again. "I count seven on the ground, three just entered and there's another twelve on the 26th floor where I was."

"We work our way to the basement, follow the pipes to dumping. There's a way out through there and into the parking building down the street," Bucky said, taking place beside Clint.

"You formed an escape route?"

"Of course."

Clint laughed softly and nodded. "Alright, I have your back, you go first."

Bucky grabbed Clint's hand and pulled him towards the stairwell access door, the two running down quickly.

"How'd they know we were here?" Clint asked between shortened breaths. Bucky shrugged as they stopped at -1. He held a hand to the trigger of his rifle as he pushed open the door, Clint readying his bow.

"Beats me," He muttered, retaking the archers hand and darting towards another door that read something along the lines of AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY in Russian. "We've just gotta get out of here as soon as we can before they string us up."

"Bucky- Clint- come in-"

Clint paused with a hand to his ear as Bucky went to work picking the lock.

"Yeah, Cap?"

There was a heavy sigh before- "Shield is compromised."

They both froze before the sound of heavy boots knocked both Clint and Bucky back to reality. The lock popped open and Bucky shoved Clint through the door way and followed him in, slamming and locking the door behind them.

"What do you mean compromised?" Clint asked as Bucky lead him down the cramped, dripping, hall.

"I mean Shield isn't shield. It's Hydra now. We're all going under, I've gotta drop and wipe this com and you two should as well. Stay off the grid."

"Woah-"

"I'll find a way to contact you guys again. Good luck, stay safe."

"You too, Steve," Bucky mumbled before pulling his earpiece out, dropping it to the ground, and stepping on it. He reached for Clint's as well but the archer jerked away.

"Careful," Clint hissed, gently pulling his com link away from his hearing aid. Bucky gave a short nod, then carried on yanking him down the dingy passageway.

"We're gonna need a car, hopefully one with some cash in it, and a place to lay low until we can group back up with the team," Bucky said under his breath and mostly to himself.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe it's best to stay here, at least for a while."

"Maybe."

"Hey, hey, Buck," Clint sighed, pulling against him and stopping. "We're gonna be okay. One way or another, we'll get back to Steve and Nat and everyone else and we'll be fine. But for now we have to trust each other. We're all we have."

Bucky's gaze traveled from his feet up to Clint's eyes where he held contact for a few moments.

"Yeah."

"I know you just got Steve back and-"

"Shut up." Bucky took a step closer and pressed his lips to Clint's in a kiss they'd both been dying for. One that hadn't been shared since the week before they were assigned this dead-end mission. He pulled away, gave Clint a smirk, then went to work unlocking another door.

"Smooth," Clint scoffed, glancing over his shoulders with bow cautiously drawn.

~•*„°„*•~

"Bucky."

"Sh."

"Bu-"

"Clint, shut up!" Bucky hissed, giving the blond a sideways glare.

"No, you shut up and look!" Clint jabbed a finger to his far left, a small cabin the center of the gesture. Bucky laughed softly and nodded, adjusting the rifle slung across his back.

"Yes, sir."

"That's more like it," Clint grinned, running towards the small shack. Bucky shook his head, chuckled, and followed him to the door.

"Get to unlockin', old man," Clint forced the giggle out of his voice as he pointed to the handle.

"Yes, or," Bucky paused, turned the knob and pushed the door open. "It's already unlocked and I can settle for this-"

Bucky grabbed Clint's waist and pulled him inside, kicking the door shut behind them. A challenging smirk danced across his lips as his hands slid further down Clint's hips. The archer sent a beautiful smile back, his own fingers winding their way into Bucky's hair.

"You gonna just stand there or what, Sergeant?"

Bucky quickly caught Clint's lips in an intense kiss, passion radiating off both men as they stumbled further into the empty dwelling, dropping weapons and packs here and there. They found the small and old floor bed and clumsily dropped down onto it, Clint straddling his soldier's hips.

"God damnit, have I been waiting for this," He grinned, hands sliding up and under Bucky's shirt.

"You really think this is a good idea? Even Russian summers get pretty cold," Bucky joked, palms resting on the back of Clint's thighs.

"They don't call me a disaster twink for nothin'."

"Who calls you that?" Bucky had to choke back his laughter.

"Nat. On one occasion, now shut up." He pulled on Bucky's shirt and the brunet leaned up, allowing it to be dragged over his head and tossed away. Clint's lips trailed over Bucky's collar, leaving carefully placed hickey's down his chest. Bucky groaned, hands sliding up the back of Clint's shirt and making him shiver from the sudden touch of cold metal.

"Sorry," Bucky mumbled, eyelids fluttering as he watched Clint. The blond yanked his shirt off and let it join the other before replacing Bucky's hands on his back.

"I don't mind," he smiled. "Dad always did say I could use a cold touch."

"I hate you."

"That's not what you'll be saying soon," Clint smirked, leaning down so their chests were flush and they were eye to eye. "James.. Buchanan.. Barnes.." He interrupted each word with a soft peck and that nearly drove Bucky off a cliff.

He flipped them, pressing Clint back onto the- if you could call it such- bed.

"Clinton Francis Barton, you better stop."

"Man, why do you have such a manly name?" Clint whined, hands placed on either side of Bucky's neck.

"Why do you have such a cute name?" He shot back and before Clint could answer, his wet lips were running along his waist.

They were lucky they were out in the middle of nowhere where no one could hear Bucky make Clint scream, his thrashed voice begging for more. And God, how thankful Clint was he hadn't asked for their first time to be at the tower because damn was this so much better.

Bucky slept well that night, body wrapped around Clint's protectively. Half of him was worried someone would bust in and murder them for trespassing and the other half of him had read the signs of a long abandoned dwelling. He slept well for the first time in forever that night.

Clint groaned, one hand coming up to shield his eyes from the sun flowing in through the windows. There was one hand running through his hair and another that rested on his side.

"Morning," Bucky hummed, offering a small forehead kiss in greeting. He didn't want to move in fear of causing Clint discomfort and because for once he was actually comfortable.

"Good morning," Clint mumbled back, twisting in the embrace to face the soldier. "God, the sun here's fuckin' bright. And we don't have any fucking coffee, aw man."

Bucky laughed softly.

"I'm sorry."

Clint poked his tongue out at Bucky, bringing his arm out from under the covers to itch it. That drew some of Bucky's attention as Clint's fingers dusted over a scab he didn't remember causing.

"What's the plan for to.. day.." He trailed off, eyes focused on the skin just beside the scab. A small red light pulsed under it. "Tell me that isn't what I think it is."

"Well-"

"Bucky, tell me."

"Okay, uh, I have some vodka in my bag and a plan."

"A plan?!" Clint yelled, sitting up straight. He regretted that immediately as a jolt of pain hit his spine. "There's a tracker in my fucking arm and I don't know how it got there or who put it there!!"

"You're fine, I'll get it out and I'll plant it on someone else," Bucky sighed as he got up, yanked on his underwear, and went to find his bag. He pulled out a hunters knife and a tiny bottle of vodka along with some bandages.

"Make it quick," Clint groaned, pulling the blanket up over his mouth so he had something to bite besides his own tongue. Bucky gave him a small, sympathetic nod and sat back beside him.

"Arm?"

Clint stuck his arm out at him and cringed as Bucky dribbled some vodka over his skin.

"Deep breath.." The brunet whispered and pressed the blade into Clint's skin. He hissed quietly as Bucky pushed further and dug for the device. "I'm sorry."

"Just get it over with," Clint snapped.

Bucky worked quickly, removing the tracker within a minute or two and immediately went to bandaging the whining blond's wrist. He held Clint's hand, kissing over the knuckles gently.

"I already hate this."

"I don't."

"Shut up, you're opinion doesn't matter."

"I love you," Bucky grinned, falling into place pressed to Clint's side and wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Okay, your opinion matters," Clint mumbled softly after a moment, gently grabbing Bucky's chin and pulling him into a kiss.