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Happy Birthday Dumbass

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“You’re kidding me. This is not the present I wanted today. This is not a birthday present, damn it.”

Bucky groans in despair. He’s not going to be blamed for this. There is no way in hell he’s going to be blamed for this. He’s in a pair of lounge pants and has the most epic bed head in the history of bed head because Clint made good on his promise to ‘fuck your beautiful hockey-player ass into the mattress’ last night, and he’d just stuck his head under the pillows after that and passed out dead. Well, when a man with the stamina of Hawkeye has a go at you… He slept until noon because god damn it, he’s ninety-eight or twenty-eight or whatever the fuck today and he can do whatever the hell he wants to. He didn’t ask for half his damned building to up and walk off while he was asleep. He stares into the chasm. The lines are too clean. Almost like someone just took a wire and sliced right through everything. The half a mirror that is left on the wall is still intact, for fuck’s sake! There’s no way there was an explosion. He’s pretty sure he would have noticed that, no matter how well fucked he was last night. Still doesn’t explain how half the building is gone.

Clint steps to his side with two coffee mugs in his hands. He’s naked and humming under his breath. That means he’s got his ‘This is fine’ goggles on. Bucky loves those goggles, because when Clint is calm, everyone is calm. Sort of. “Well. Stark seems to be right again.” The two of them stare into the wide open space where the other half of Bucky’s home is supposed to be. “Coffee maker goes in the bedroom, and let the animals sleep on the bed.”

“What happened here?” Bucky still can’t believe it. He just bought a new flat-screen television. It’s gone. The cabinet Steve made him with repurposed wood - like a good hipster boy - is gone. The whole living room is gone. He can’t make oatmeal or have a quesadilla or even have a damned glass of juice because the kitchen is gone. The garage is gone, which means his Land Rover is gone, too. Damn it! “At least I can take a dump,” Bucky whines. Clint slips the steaming coffee mug into his hands. “What the absolute living hell happened here?”

“Did we leave our phones on the coffee table?” Clint turns to him. “Because that could be a bad thing.”

Bucky winces. “I think we did. Fuck, even the landline is gone!”

“Aww, phone!” Clint groans. “Lucky!” The dog waddles in from the master bathroom. “Good. Still got a dog. Though he might have just dropped a bomb in the bathroom. He’s looking devious.”

Bucky whips around, nearly losing his mug, and runs to the dresser. He yanks open his skivvies drawer. Little Shit yawns at him and pulls a pair of purple boxers over her tail. He relaxes. “And we have a cat, for what she’s worth. Damn it, you are supposed to warn me when hinky shit happens, cat!” She yawns again, letting a squeak out at the end. “Don’t talk back to me.”

“Do you think they are trying to get ahold of us right now?” Clint muses as he takes his boxers back from Little Shit. She yowls at him and hooks her claws in. “I’m not getting into a tug-of-war match with you, kid! I need my clothes, half your house is missing and Stark is going to show up any -”

Bucky rockets up straight as the familiar sound of the Iron Man armor blows into the room and Lucky starts barking. “ STARK,” he roars. “Don’t even -”

“And that is a sight I never want to see again,” Tony’s voice carries over the speakers, so the facial expression of shock is lost. But Bucky knows that tone anywhere.

“So stop staring at my boyfriend’s ass!”

“Stop blowing up your building, T-1000!”

“This? Is not my fault!” Bucky whirls around and stares hard at Stark. “Park that fuckin’ tin can before I shoot you out of the air.”

“With what? All your weapons are - were, sorry - in the living room!” Stark lands on what’s left of a throw rug anyway.

Bucky sneers. “What makes you think that two assassins wouldn’t have multiple weapons stashes?” Especially after what happened in Bed-Stuy. “For all you know, I’ve got a rocket launcher under the bed.”

“More like in your pants,” Clint mutters, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist.

“TMI, Barton.” Tony flips his faceplate up so he can show them his disgusted face. “Way too much.”

“Get out of my bedroom!” Bucky growls. Of course, that’s the moment Steve Rogers pops his head over the lip of the chasm. “What the hell!” Bucky strides over and sticks out his hand. “Stairs are on this side of the building, you doof!”

“Wanted to get some climbing in, good for the shoulders. Sam’s right behind me.” Steve grins. He’s not in uniform, but Bucky can feel body armor under the brown bomber jacket when he slaps a hand to his buddy’s back. At least he came prepared this time.

“Where’s your shield?” Bucky grips the back of the jacket and hauls on Steve’s heavy frame. “Stop eating so much, you weigh a ton!”

“I like cheeseburgers the size of my head, leave me alone. And I left it on the bike.” Steve grins like half of Bucky’s life isn’t missing.

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Christ Almighty, you two are gonna kill me.” Bucky reaches back over and grabs Sam’s hand too when it appears at the edge. “Get up here, Wilson, before you break something.”

“Tryin’!” Sam heaves himself over the edge. “Steve makes it look so easy.”

“You know better than to follow his schemes. You have wings, y’know!”

“Didn’t have time to grab them.”

“To be fair, Barnes, Rogers makes punching a tank look easy. Hey!” Tony grins. “Barton’s not naked anymore! We can talk about what happened here.”

“Me not being naked was a prerequisite for talking? You can talk with your eyes closed next time. I was enjoying the breeze.” Clint pulls his jeans over his hips. Lucky is sniffing along the clean break of the open chasm.

“Holy - shut up with the TMI!” Tony plops himself down on the bed, armor and all. “La la la, can’t hear you. Can we talk about how half your building just disappears this morning in a flash of blue light now?”

Clint pauses, hand almost to his mug, and his shoulders stiffen. “Blue?”

Tony nods.

“Fuckin’ hate blue,” Clint mutters darkly, gripping his mug tightly. Lucky comes back from investigating the missing floor and leans against his leg, and Bucky moves to hug him.

“No idea who it is yet.” Steve shrugs. “No weird symbols, so it’s not Asgardian.”

“Thrilling.” Clint still doesn’t look happy, and Bucky squeezes him until he squeaks. “Thanks, but I need my ribcage.”

“Still waiting on Reed to get back to me. Something tells me he’s cooking up something new over at the Baxter building. Either that, or Doom’s got a new toy. And it doesn’t have functions.” Tony falls backwards. “Please tell me there isn’t come all over these sheets.”

Bucky snorts as Steve goes beet red in embarrassment. “You bet your shiny metal ass there is, buddy. It’s my birthday today. We had all the sex.”

“Gross.” Tony doesn’t move. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“You told me to tell you, and I did.”

“I didn’t need to know the details!”

“Then get off my bed!” Bucky glares, then grins. “There’s a lot you don’t need to know, shithead. Wanna meet my new toy?” Bucky swallows a laugh at the even more disgusted look on Tony’s face. “It has functions.

“And I’m tapping out of this conversation.” Sam wanders over to the coffee maker. “Whose bright idea was it to put this in here?”

Clint and Bucky point at the shiny metal man currently groaning about bodily fluids on their bed.

“Good idea, Stark.” Sam pours himself a cup and takes a sip. “Except no one here knows how to make coffee.”

“Deal with it, Air Force. We drank worse in Germany.” Steve wanders over and gets himself a cup as well. He pulls a face. “Maybe.”

“Shut up.” Clint stabs a finger at Sam, who is mouthing ‘SEE I TOLD YOU SO’ to Steve. “No one gets to badmouth my coffee. It’ll keep you awake. That’s all that counts.”

Tony sits up, presumably to listen to whatever is coming over the suit’s coms. Steve flips Clint off, and Sam sidles up to the dresser. “Hello, Little Shit. What’s shakin’?”

“Myeh.” Little Shit stands up and stretches.

“Jeeze, she’s gotten big.” Sam grins at Bucky, who finally lets go of Clint so he can get another cup of coffee before Steve drinks it all. “You soup her up with some Serum, there?”

“Wish I could blame it on that. She eats more than both of us and Lucky put together some days.” Bucky slugs back the whole cup and makes a face. “He’s lucky I love him. The more awake I get, the more this tastes like the motor oil shakes DUM-E makes for Stark.”

“My coffee, my rules, baby.” Clint steals his mug. “Gotta get some for the baby on our bedspread. I think he’s glitching.” Bucky glances over and yeah, Tony’s right eye is twitching.


“Yeah.” Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“If I don’t get an insurance settlement and a whole new block out of this, I’m gonna have words with Stark’s PR department. And I want a new TV.”

“What do you mean, it got a little out of hand!” Tony gets to his feet with a storm cloud over his head. “Where the hell did it go? You could have disappeared two Avengers!” He grabs the mug out of Clint’s hand and tries to take a drink. He shoves the cup back into Clint’s face. “Damn it, it’s empty. I don’t care that they aren’t official, no one on this team is official. I’m not official! Fix this, Reed! And fix the coffee situation, Barton, or I’ll let him disappear you into another dimension!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, then grabs Clint’s arm before he can deck Tony. “Easy, slugger, you’ll break your hand on his metal skull.”

“Worth it. So worth it.” Clint grumbles. “I’m not awake enough for this.”

“You’re not awake enough?” Bucky rolls his eyes again, then yelps when Little Shit leaps onto his shoulder to rub herself all over his bed head. “Cat, you are not helping! You are the size of a small country. Get off my shoulders!” Her reply is to dig her claws into the plates of his metal arm. Bucky resigns himself to his fate as a cat perch and to his fate as a magnet for mental fucking shit to happen to him. “Happy fucking birthday to me. Someone buy me a television.”