Bucky talked about radiation and Clint couldn't help but murmur, "Hush," the tone firm, but gentle, and it jarred him, a little, to hear it coming out of his mouth like that. Just like he would've said to Steve, or Natasha, once upon a time. Stop doing this to yourself, it said. I won't let you.
He tilted his head up a little, in the wake of Bucky's touch, leaning into it. He hadn't been expecting it, but it was nice. Relaxing. He found himself nestling a little closer as Bucky's arm hooked around him again, his muscles a little looser, now. From the corner of his eye, he watched Trouble circling on a little nest of blankets, the other leftover remnant of the fort.
"Steve wouldn't get it," Clint said. "Not all of it, anyway. And besides, it'd only make him worry about me, and that's the last thing I want." He grimaced. "I flooded his laundry room yesterday. Guess it's not as easy as I thought it'd be. He was understandably miffed at me."
Clint let his eyes half-close, then. Since the anniversary, he'd alternated between sleeping too much and not sleeping at all. Everything felt heavy, now. "Besides, I thought that maybe... maybe you'd need something like this too. That's presumptuous maybe. But." He turned his head up a little, just a little, enough to make the barest bit of eye contact, his voice so quiet. "I'm not blind, Barnes. I saw how you looked at him that day."