Yes, now there was a relationship: one that was defined by I love yous and This is my person, although neither of them had thought to talk about putting a title to it. They were just what they were, and they were together. Clint might have felt a little abashed for just jumping straight into it, but frankly it was kind of his MO, and -- well. Even if they were different versions, they'd known each other for years. Was it really jumping into it, or just... continuing down a path that each of them had already started? Clint didn't really know, and didn't think the details were important. Not those details anyway.
He cared very much, though, about the fact that Bucky had loved Natasha once, and loved Natasha still. He understood that, and his heart ached for him, even if he said he was happy for them. Because it was -- Because Bucky was so gracious. So perfectly willing to be happy for others even if he couldn't have what he wanted, too. Clint wouldn't have been nearly so giving or kind, he knew that for a fact -- absolutely. "I wasn't going to worry," he mumbled out, but stopped himself going further because Bucky was on a roll. He was just --
A braver man than Clint, maybe, to try and get everything off of his chest. And Clint figured the least he could do was listen, even if it sort of made something in his heart ache to do so.
It didn't really sink in. Not until Clint was standing there in front of Bucky and watching his hands move, easy and knowing. Sure in both gesture and in the words he was saying. That Bucky knew sign was something of a surprise, that he knew to use it in a time like this, more so.
He probably went on a face journey there for a minute, that surprise moving into a look where Clint's mouth twisted to the side, like he was biting at the inside of his cheek, and his eyes sort of went a little glassy before he inhaled, sharp and blinked wide to make that just -- less of an obvious thing.
It wasn't that he was sad. He wasn't sad. He was just. Touched, maybe -- something low in his stomach twisted a little, like butterflies or -- or something. Because Bucky Barnes had feelings for him, and cared enough to not only tell him, but to do it in a way where Clint would miss no words or meanings. It was kind of overwhelming.
"Oh," he said out loud, feeling a little stupid. Bucky was so articulate with his words, had clearly worked to get to a point where he could say what he was feeling without stumbling or stopping. Clint wasn't nearly so skilled. But it would be a disservice to Bucky if he didn't try. "It wasn't just me, then?" It felt important he respond in kind, his fingers more sure than his mouth ever seemed to be. He didn't really know what to say though. Not really. Because this would take some thought, maybe. Not that Clint was much of a reflective sort. He curled his fingers in, thumb and pinkie out before gesturing between the two of them. "Same."
Not that he was going to act on it. Because there was no point in offering something to Bucky that was no longer his to give, not really. And because it'd only hurt them all in the long run. "Thank you." he said, speaking this time. "It's -- you know."