It wasnât easy being back. Clint knew that as much as the next guy, and he knew that at some point, heâd have to admit that the nightly waking and screaming maybe, maybe wasnât the best thing to do. Not healthy, at least. He hummed as he settled in the living area, again watching a show on Starkflix as Tony calls it. He glanced over to see Steve, someone behind him. Yeah. Bucky. Who hadnât said a word and ignored him for the past two months since Steve dragged him in like a wet, mewling kitten, begging Tony he could keep him.
Except James wasnât mewling. More hissing. Or being quiet. So Clint went back to watching the show, ignoring that there was someone quite firmly placed next to him.
Steve said that he needed it, the socialization, the mingling with the others. James wasnât too sure about that, he was still a danger and to some of them--- he knew they still believed as much as well. How could he blame them? He had made every attempt to kill each of them at least once, such a failure in itself was still boggling his mind. The Winter Soldier never failed and if he did he was severely punished. Perhaps this was a form of punishment, being so close to such a pure man such a Steve-- James couldnât remember being so close to something without breaking or destroying it.Â
When James had been brought here to this place, it hadnât been all sunshine and daisies, despite what Steve had gone through and said. There were those that did not like James being there, but being the good person that the Captain was, Steven had pleaded for the benefit of his best friend. But James wasnât sure he was that much to anyone anymore, or that he ever had been for that matter. How could someone so destructive and hell bent in one way of thinking be anyoneâs friend let alone acquaintance.Â
The archer, James could feel the gaze upon his being the moment he entered the room along with Steve-- who coincidentally branched off into the next room to speak to someone else, leaving James there in the abandon of the archers gaze--- that was until it was deterred away, towards the television.
For a moment James loitered, glancing in the direction that Steve had gone but then thinking better of the decision to follow the blonde man and instead he took a deep breath, tucked his hands into his jean pockets and made his way over to the sofa where Barton--- Clint, was sitting. With an eased and almost exhausted motion James sunk down onto the soft cushions before he gaze Clint a side glance, waiting for the other to be the first to speak. But from what observations Barnes had made Clint was somewhat silent for the most part, unless he was speaking to those he felt comfortable around. At least, thatâs what Barnes had thought, perhaps things were different--- especially now that they were seated next to one another for the first time in months.Â
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