Bucky and Steve and Natasha as roommates. Clint couldn't have kept himself from smirking even if he tried, so he didn't bother. No, he grinned full on as he leaned on to the folding table and propped his chin up on his hand. "Sounds like I should invite myself over a bunch. Just to watch this glorious living situation unfold with my very own eyes."
His amusement faded after a moment, changing into a dismissive shake of his head. "Those stones were forever above my pay grade, even if I wound up in the middle of that bullshit way more often than I care to remember." Clint regretted his question just as soon as something complicated worked its way across Bucky's features. He also wasn't sure how forthcoming the answer was, but he felt bad enough to keep quiet and not call him out. "I've died. At least twice that I know of. Y'know, in the spirit of sharing or whatever. I remember the first time, though. Not really sure why I brought it up. I ain't sober enough for any of this shit anyway."