“Where the fuck’s my fuck buddy?!” Bucky demands
loudly when Nat and Sam have the audacity
to walk into the kitchen without Clint in tow.
There are all the hallmarks of daydrinking strewn around the
place; beer bottles and chip packets and Steve’s disgusting cherry vodka
gumming up at least two glasses. Barnes has reached the point of intoxication
where he gets a little screechy and half his face is smeared with whatever
glittery eyeshadow he was fucking around with before they started drinking (people
who work at night do weird things during the day, Sam has found), but he’s not
drunk and has clearly been anticipating his tiny fuck buddy’s arrival.
It’s not like this is Sam’s
house and Barton doesn’t actually live here, or anything.