Work Header

Puzzle Pieces

Chapter Text

When the door to his bedroom crashes open, Steve simply does what he normally does and rolls over, shoving his head under the pillow and hoping that Arto makes a beeline for Tony instead of him. He waits and sure enough, he hears footsteps stamping demandingly towards them, and then waits for the usual shout of ‘there are no more Lucky Charms,’ or ‘Bucky is being an asshole,’ or ‘can Omari come and play-?”

“Clint’s turned into a girl.”

Wait, what?

He and Tony both get up, dragged out of the room in their sleepwear by Arto who is babbling about magic and Clint getting home early and Bucky making jokes and Natasha shouting at Clint who has turned into a girl.

They both stumble to a stop in the door of the medbay. Bucky is straddling the chair, grinning like a loon. Natasha is standing next to him, looking like she can’t decide if this is the best or worst day ever. Clint himself – herself – is sitting on the medical trolley, swinging his – her – feet and letting Bruce check his pupils.

“Told you,” Arto crows. “He’s a girl.”

“That he is,” Tony says, sounding intrigued as they step into the medbay. Steve can’t actually find any words this early in the morning. He settles for staring. Clint’s hair is the same, short and blond, but the face is different; no stubble, features softened slightly, longer eyelashes. And Steve can’t see much through the hospital gown he’s wearing, but he can definitely see curves.

“It’s pretty cool,” Clint says and whoa, his voice is still deep but it’s not male deep anymore, it’s different. “Thor says it’s not permanent. Though he’s pretty pissy with me for touching the magicky thingy he possibly told me not to touch. But on the plus side, I’ve got an awesome rack.”

“You betcha,” Bucky grins, and Natasha smacks him around the back of his head.

Arto pulls a face. “Oh, you’re gross.”

“You shouldn’t even know what a rack is,” Tony points out to him, and then swats at Arto who is squinting, head turned to the side as he stares at Clint’s chest contemplatively. “Arto!”

“Hey Steve, I’ve got more cleavage than you now,” Clint says, batting his eyelashes.

“I was just looking!” Arto says indignantly to Tony. “Clint has boobs. It’s weird.”

“You get used to it,” Bucky says nonchalantly, and winks at Clint. Clint blows him a kiss, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Yeah, you got real used to it,” Clint replies, and Bucky just smirks.

“Oh please tell me you didn’t,” Steve despairs, as Tony is clapping his hands over Arto’s ears and hissing, “Not in front of the brat!”

“We didn’t,” Bucky says innocently. “Well, not much, anyway.”

“Just that once in the room in Asgard.”

“Oh, and in that other room after the debrief-”

“And on the quinjet on the way home-”

“And in the SHIELD medbay-”

Thankfully, they’re stopped by Natasha smacking Bucky sharply around the back of the head again. “Enough,” she hisses. “You two have put me through enough without adding to it. There is not enough brain bleach in the world for you two.”

“I hate to be the one to say this,” Tony says, giving up on trying to keep Arto’s ears covered and simply holding onto his shoulders instead. “But if you two have been…”

“Gross,” Arto supplies.

“Yeah, if you two have been gross, did anyone think about the consequences of that?”

“Meaning?” Clint asks slowly.

“Are all your lady Barton parts in working order? Because I think one baby super soldier is enough for this tower.”

Bucky breaks into peals of laughter, slumping forwards over his chair. Natasha’s mouth quirks in an unwilling smile, and Clint is laughing too.

“Don’t worry Papa Stark, we were sensible,” he grins at him, before leaning back and patting his stomach. “I did a pregnancy test just to make double sure. Well, Bruce did when he did his fancy-pants bloodwork. No little baby Buckys in here.”

“Wait, what?” Arto demands, looking from Clint to Steve to Tony to Bucky who is still laughing, the asshole. “Steve, what does he mean? How is there a baby Bucky?”

Steve stares at Arto for a moment, and then he reaches out to pat Tony on the shoulder. “Tag, you’re it,” he says, hastily stepping backwards. “I’m going back to bed.”