"Clint."
"Clint. Wake up."
Lying twisted in his duvet, Clint cracked an eye open to assess the disturbance. He was confronted by a face as familiar as his own hovering just inches from his nose, pale grey eyes possessing the same haunting beauty as the first time he'd seen them.
"Hngh?" He grumbled, still mostly unconscious.
Bucky laughed as he pulled back. Clint noticed a cellphone in Bucky's metal hand, cheaply made burner phone casing contrasting against the elegant silver workmanship of the high tech prosthetic.
"Come on, up and at 'em sleepyhead," Bucky started pulling at Clint's remaining blanket. "Big Wigs at SHIELD are holding a meeting at Stark's and the Avengers are required to attend."
Clint rolled over, smushing his face further into his pillow. He made no further attempt at communication.
Suppressing the desire to smirk, Bucky clambered onto the double bed. "Cl-int," he mock whined. "I know you got in late from Croatia last night but it's kinda important that you get out of bed."
Clint continued with his log impression, unmoved by Bucky's pleading.
"Well, I did tell ya," was the only warning Clint got before Buck leaped to his feet and started jumping on the bed.
Clint groaned as he was jolted by Bucky's increasingly daring acrobatics. He pawed at Bucky's left ankle, only to be met with breathy laughter and increased turbulence.
"Five minutes, Barnes. For Fucks sake," he muttered darkly.
"Sorry Barton," Bucky grinned, "but we're already running late."
After 30 more seconds of jumping in an attempt to encourage Clint to move his lazy ass, Bucky gave up.
"Oomph!"
He rolled Clint onto the floor.