Chapter 6
Stiles was curled up in a corner of the couch staring off into space when Bucky found him. He didn't say anything at first, he could hear Clint in the kitchen so he just moved closer until he was sitting next to Stiles. Still silent, the boy moved closer, curling up against Bucky's side, tucking himself against the man. They sat in silence for nearly a minute before Stiles finally spoke.
“Can you get paint on your arm?” he asked, and Bucky nodded.
“Haven't found much that sticks to it.”
“Do you want to finger paint with me?” Bucky just nodded again. He didn't mind finger painting, and he also didn't want to do anything to upset the tentative hold on reality Stiles had made.
“Okay. Where's the paint?” Stiles just slid off the couch, taking Bucky's offered hand before guiding him over behind the couch. He hadn't been able to see it from the door but there was a giant roll of paper rolled out, closed containers of paint next to them. Stiles just sat down so Bucky sat next to him, reaching for the blue paint even as Stiles reached for green. He dipped two fingers in, making waves along his corner of the page, and watched the small smile lift up Stiles' lips. He immediately made to copy, dipping his fingers into the green, making what Bucky thought looked like grass next to his water. They painted in near silence for a minute before Stiles let out a sigh, and Bucky looked over, not saying a word, just waiting.
“My mom used to finger paint with me.” and Bucky didn't respond at first, because he wasn't sure why Stiles was talking as if it were past tense. He only had to wait a minute for Stiles to talk again, and it was as he made a swirl of green, the edges mixing with Bucky's blue. “She's sick now.” he murmured, eyes fixed on the paint. “She thinks I'm a demon.” and the words were nearly a whisper. “She said I was trying to kill her.” he looked up at Bucky then, and there was a world of pain in his eyes. “Do you think that's why the bad men thought I had magic? Because mom said I'm a demon?” he asked it with the sincerity of a 5 year old, and it broke Bucky's heart.
“My mama always told me that demons are evil.” Bucky responded, “And you're as good as anyone can be, Stiles.” Stiles just looked down at the paint again, at the green on his fingertips.
“Are you sure?” Bucky reached out then, wrapping his paint covered hand around Stiles', the blue and green mixing between their hands.
“As sure as anyone can be.” he ducked his head to catch Stiles' gaze. “I've seen evil. And it can have a lot of different shapes. But I can tell you for certain that none of them look like you.” Stiles let go of Bucky's hand but only so he could crawl into his lap, leaning against Bucky's torso as he continued to paint. Bucky just bent around him, reaching for a new colour. He grabbed the yellow, painting a sunshine above his waves, and that's when Stiles reached for his hand, the metal one, red paint now on his hand, and drew a heart in the curve of Bucky's elbow. Bucky wrapped his limbs around Stiles, nuzzling into the boy who gave a giggle in response. The giggle turned into a squawk when the paint in his hand overturned from the actions, spilling paint all over him, which he immediately turned to smear on Bucky. Bucky just grinned, grabbing a new paint as a weapon, watching Stiles' face light in a matching grin. They ended up covered in paint, Stiles shrieking with laughter, Bucky unable to help but laugh as well, paint dripping from his hair while Stiles' hair was all but slicked back with it. There hardly any paint at all on the paper but it was all over the furniture. They'd run out of paint when Stiles threw himself forward with the confidence of someone who knew they'd always be caught, and Bucky couldn't deny the pleasure he felt at being the one so trusted as he caught Stiles in his arms, hugging him close.
“I love you.” Stiles said against his shoulder, and Bucky pressed his lips against Stiles' paint soaked temple.
“I love you too.” and he'd never felt freer than he felt saying those words. Clint's guffawing laughter drew their attention and they both turned to see him in the kitchen doorway. He was laughing at the state they were in, but Bucky could see his relief. Bucky could smell food now too, smell that it was something with a lot of spices, and it seemed Stiles noticed at the same time because his nose was suddenly in the air, taking in a large breath.
“You made curry?”
“Well someone said they really wanted it this morning.” Clint replied, coming closer, and Stiles reached out a hand, never letting go of Bucky, and so Bucky didn't try to pass him away. Clint just took Stiles' hand, not hesitating at the paint.
“Do you think Tony will be angry?” he asked then, sounding slightly worried, But Clint shook his head, and Clint reached up with his free hand to push the hair that was starting to slide into Stiles' face back.
“Nah, but if you want to eat the curry you both need to wash up.” they both saw and felt Stiles tense at the words.
“By myself?”
“Well, Bucky kinda has to go use his own shower because it has a special thing to help clean his arm, and also Steve's looking for him, but I was gonna give you a hand if you don't mind. Wouldn't want you to miss behind your ears.” Stiles relaxed immediately before looking at Bucky.
“Are you gonna walk with us to our bathroom?” he asked, and Bucky couldn't do anything but nod. He knew he'd be tracking paint through the halls but nothing would make him put Stiles down before he was ready.
“I wonder what Steve wants to talk to you about.” then he giggled. “Maybe that the paint he gave me was for paper and not us and you're gonna get in trouble cause you're a grownup.” Clint laughed behind him but Bucky just shook his head, not fighting his smile.
“Steve's been covered in paint since he could hold a paintbrush. If he didn't want paint on skin he shoulda known better than to give us finger paint.” Stiles nodded serenely, happy to agree, and happy to go from his arms to Clint's when they reached the archer's floor. Before he could leave though, Stiles was calling him back.
“You're coming for curry, right?” and even though he'd had every intention of doing just that, he responded anyways.
“Wouldn't miss it. Race you.” and he darted off the floor to the echo of Stiles' laughter.
When Stiles slid into the kitchen in his footed pyjamas, Clint on his heels, he laughed and did a little dance as Clint went to get bowls for them.
"We won!" He crowed, and that's when Bucky's chuckle caught up with them.
"Sure about that?" Stiles gasped in surprise, feet slipping out from under him from the slippery kitchen tiles, but Bucky was there, swinging him up and onto his hip, supporting him with his flesh arm so he could pick up the hot bowl of curry with his metal hand, carrying it to the table. Stiles just looked at him, catching sight of the heart he'd painted on Bucky's arm still perfect condition, and he grinned.
"I'm sure." He said, pressing his fingers to the heart, and Bucky didn't stop himself from pressing his forehead to Stiles' temple.
"I think maybe we all won." And Stiles twisted so he could wrap his arms around Bucky's neck. Then he pressed a sloppy kiss to Bucky's cheek before scrambling out of his arms and into his seat at the table.
"Come on, Bucky, I'm starving! Stop being such a slow poke." And Clint burst out laughing again.
"Yeah, jeez, Buck, share the food." Bucky shot the archer a mock glare but did as he was told, and the warmth he felt had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the company.
>>>
Clint woke up and found himself lying in the dark, wondering what had woken him. He reached for his hearing aids, having established with Stiles early on that they needed to be taken out and told Stiles if he needed him just to give him a shake and –
Stiles. He flipped over even as he put the aids in and found the other side of the bed empty. Where was Stiles? He was on his feet in an instant, ready to wake everyone up to find the boy – and that's when he saw him. Stiles was curled up against the window, knees pulled up to his chin, arms clasped around them. He was staring out the window, gaze caught by the moon, and Clint moved right over, dropping across from him, glancing up at the moon as well and noticing that it was full.
“Did I wake you up?” Stiles asked softly, still staring at the sky, and Clint shrugged.
“Nah, I would've woken up anyways.” he paused, glancing back at Stiles' face, how the light shining in the window seemed to light up his eyes like they were made of amber. “What woke you up?” Stiles didn't respond at first, and when he turned to look at Clint the way the moonlight shifted made it almost look like it was drained from Stiles' eyes. Clint had to force back the shiver from the cold chill than ran down his spine at the thought.
“It feels like a pull.” Stiles finally said, looking back at the sky, eyes filling with light again. “In my tummy. Or maybe where my heart is. Yeah. It feels like something is pulling me cause it wants me to run outside.”
“Let's go then.” Stiles blinked at the words, obviously not having expected them.
“Go outside?”
“Sure, why not?”
“It's night time.”
“You want to run. Let's run.” Stiles' grin filled his features, and the moonlight made him look damn near angelic.
“Okay.” Clint pushed to his feet, lifting Stiles' with him and into his arms.
“Jarvis?”
“The others are already convening in the garage.” and Stiles looked at the ceiling in surprise.
“Why?”
“Perhaps they too felt the pull of the moon.” was Jarvis' response, and for once Clint didn't hear even a hint of sarcasm. He wondered briefly if this was magic – Stiles' magic – drawing them all out of bed – making them crave the fresh air – but it didn't matter. Clint took them to the lift and soon they were in the garage, the rest of the team already gathered, and together they all climbed into a vehicle, Clint behind the wheel, Stiles curling up in Bucky's lap in the passenger seat. If it wasn't for Bucky's metal arm securing Stiles to his chest, and the seatbelt securing him, Clint may have insisted on Stiles having his own seat, but there was a fragility to Stiles' gaze that he didn't want to break, and so he said nothing. He took them to a football field – the grass stretching across the length and lit up only by the light of the moon. For a moment the air felt still – and then Stiles was off, tearing across the grass with a carefree laugh falling from his lips, and the rest could only fall suit, running as well. They ran together and it was almost like a game of tag – where they were all it and yet none of them were – chasing moon beams as much as they chased each other. It was hours later when they finally collapsed together, the whole team laying together on the grass, winded and yet wide awake, breathing in tune with each other, and Clint looked around him at the peace that he could see on everyone's face and he wondered if maybe this really was Stiles' magic, and if it was, it was the best thing he thought any of them had ever felt. He drew Stiles in, pressing a kiss to Stiles' temple, and Stiles looked over at him with a delighted grin, snuggling in against his side, hand reaching out blindly for Bucky who curled forward too, and Clint realized that he'd spent a lot of time lately in close quarters with Bucky Barnes - and even as he had the thought he found himself meeting Bucky's gaze, and there was a serenity there he'd never seen before. The hush that fell over them felt tentative but comfortable and he didn't pull back when Bucky shifted closer so that the two of them were curled around Stiles, foreheads nearly touching. Instead, Clint found himself relaxing, and when Bucky's flesh hand brushed against his where it was curled around Stiles, he didn't pull away then either.