It was still pretty novel to Bucky to have someone in his life like Clint who not only was around him most of the time but who also wanted to be and didn't look at him like he was either a monster or a victim. He just looked at him like he was a person he really, really liked and that made Bucky feel so much more at ease and comfortable. Things with Clint were easy. They could talk or they could just cuddle quietly without having to say anything at all. Maybe they'd sign a few things back and forth just because, or they'd just doze and wake up to lazy kisses and back rubs. It was, in short, the best.
Seeing how Clint had some pride about his living space made Bucky all the more excited to see it. He liked seeing Clint excited like that, and he knew it had to feel good to have a place he considered his home actually there. "I'm dying to get a closer look at where Clint Barton hangs his bow when he calls it a night." He grinned and stole another kiss first, just because. Then, he took it upon himself to look around. It was charming, in a Clint Barton way. It was like the place had neon flashing lights that flashed "CLINT" in rapid succession. It felt homey, cared for, lived in. He liked that feel. It'd been a very long time since Bucky had last felt that way. Brooklyn, if he was honest.
"It's perfect," he said. "Perfectly you and I love it." Bucky let his finger drag across the arm of the couch. It looked really comfy. "And this just.. appeared? You came upstairs and there it was?"