In the dark beneath the safety of the covers, Bucky laid down his head on Clint’s shoulder, laying close to him as he did most nights. Rising and falling against Clint as he breathed deeply, he reached up his hand to rest on his boyfriend’s chest. With gentle fingers, he brushed against the two lines on his chest, that were slowly but surely fading, although they were still slightly raised. His fingers drew patterns against them, dancing gentle rhythms, and he sighed. Pressed up against his boyfriend, he began to feel the extra tissue of his chest, the thing he hated most. He was aware that Clint could feel them too, he was unsure whether it bothered him, especially now that he had what they’d both desired for so long.
‘You alright?’ Clint whispered, his voice deep and coarse with sleep. He received no reply, as Bucky’s hand halted where it was. Clint understood when he felt him move away, in the way that he pulled at his t-shirt, and removed himself from him.
‘You’re perfect Buck.’ He reached out, trying to pull him back, to hold him tight in his arms.
For so long after they started dating, Bucky had avoided spending the night with Clint, he didn’t like being around others when he was unable to wear his binder, and although Clint’s chest would be unbinded too, Bucky wasn’t ready for anyone to see that part of himself. He trained at night and was always sure to make himself busy, in the best way so it didn’t seem like he was trying to avoid Clint, although that’s what he was doing. Over time, Clint gained his trust, but he still tended to sleep with a sports bra and a large jumper. Knowing how vulnerable he would feel, Clint did everything to make sure he felt comfortable, at night he would dim down the lights, cover mirrors and always left out one of his t-shirts in the bathroom, where Bucky always changed.
‘I love you as you are.’ Clint whispered into his ear; Bucky had now turned around so that he faced the wall. He wondered if he was going to cry as he moved closer so that his chest was pressed up against his back. Careful, he wrapped one arm around him, making sure that it was low enough on his body, he let the other brush through his hair gently. Bucky was grateful that Clint understood, despite only rarely feeling dysphoric compared to the almost constant feeling of his dysphoria. He always knew the right words to say, the right things to do, that calmed him down and returned him to the moment.
‘Thank you.’ He hummed out quietly, turning so that he faced his boyfriend, positioning himself in a way that his head rested on him but his chest didn’t touch him.