Clint Barton is going back to bed. (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} today_sucks) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} snapthread, |
Clint had never really been a pet person before Lucky simply because his life had been too on the move and hectic to have something like that. But he'd always liked animals, and had often been the one to volunteer spending time with the ones they'd had at the circus. There'd been a tiger at one point, Clint remembered. She'd been old and in retrospect he was certain she hadn't been treated well. But he'd always been keen on reaching through the cage and petting her. And he'd always been the first kid to try and adopt strays and take them on the road with them, although he'd never been allowed.
Mostly, he'd forgotten he'd wanted a pet when he got older, until Lucky showed up and took a bullet for him. He loved his dog something fierce and was really touched that Bucky seemed to, too. And not just in a yay dog! sort of way, but in a --well. He didn't know. Real connection... thing? Whatever.
"It's good," Clint said with a scoff, giving Bucky a look that said he ought to know that already. "It's like... it's so cute that it's stupid. It's like -- ridiculously cute? You've never seen someone so cute or attractive that you just kinda got mad about it?" Maybe he wasn't describing it right.