AN: Response (finally!) to Anon's prompt on Tumblr (found in notes at the end for non-spoilerness). It was hard, there was a big scare where I nearly lost the entire damn thing - fucking phone - but I got it done and here it is. I apologise now for the sucky fight descriptions.

Shock Revelation

When the Avengers were called out to a super-robbery, the last thing Bucky expected was to be told to suit up with them. Yet here he was, striding out of the Quinjet towards a man calling himself Electro, checking his weapon one last time as Captain America dished out the plan of attack.

"Iron Man, take Hawkeye someplace high, then the two of you and Ms Marvel concentrate on aerial attacks from all angles. Avoid getting hit and stay in the sky as long as you can. Black Widow, Winter Soldier, you'll be on the ground with me. One of you stay on the outside, cut him off if he tries to make a run for it. We're without our heavy hitters today, so it's up to us to wear him down – but keep damage to a minimum and don't put yourself in harm's way. Everybody got that?"

"He'll be happier with you on his six," Black Widow says to the Winter Soldier.

"Will he?" he murmurs back, eyes on Hawkeye as Iron Man lifts him up high.

She smiles knowingly. "I'll take the shadows. You make sure our Captain has his ground support." And with that, she's gone.

It's a harder fight than the Winter Soldier anticipated – than any of them anticipated, he thinks. Electro has no problem throwing out bolts of pure electricity every which way, causing panic when he clips the edge of Iron Man's suit and blasts Captain America back a good few feet. The Winter Soldier's partially worried about his arm, even as he tries to incapacitate the villain under an attack from Ms Marvel. Hawkeye is in their ears constantly, giving members with an opening signals and letting the team know how everyone else is faring. The Winter Soldier finds himself surprised by how easy it is to slip into their unit, thinking as he dives out of the way of another electric whip that Captain America and the Black Widow must have orchestrated it somehow (with Hawkeye's help, of course).

Suddenly, there's a moment when everything goes to hell: the Captain gets knocked back, further demolishing the front of a restaurant; Iron Man's suit takes a direct hit, forcing Ms Marvel to dash over to his rescue; Electro turns on the Winter Soldier, and as he throws out more electricity the Soldier finds himself twisting and turning to avoid it, only to feel a familiar pressure run through his head. He lands on tarmac, a tingling sensation running through his body, and when his instinct kicks in it saves him from being fried by the enemy completely.

As he rolls out of harm's way, a huge disc-like object comes hurtling out of the rubble to his left. Recognising it, the Soldier freezes. Captain America's shield strikes the electrical enemy hard in the side, and the man stumbles. As the Winter Soldier watches, the Captain himself leaps into view to reclaim his accessory, surging forward with what looks like renewed drive. Frowning, the Soldier grips his weapon tighter; he can't think why he and Captain America would be working together, even against an enemy that wants them both dead. Looking around, he sees the rest of the American's team: a fallen Iron Man, Ms Marvel, and the traitorous Black Widow in the background of the fight. He relaxes his grip – now would not be the time to take on the Captain. Turning, he decides to wait until the super soldier is alone, and if this electrical enemy takes him out first then it's not so much of a disappointment. Though he doesn't distinctly remember how they ended up here in the first place, the Soldier has no qualms about letting another do the job.

Stalking quickly away, the Soldier is surprised when his earpiece bursts into life and a voice says down it: "Soldier, what're you doing?" It's not one of his handlers. At least, he doesn't think it is. There's a familiarity to it, some kind of recognition in the back of his head, but he's pretty sure his handlers have never questioned his actions before. Maybe this is a new team. "Hey man, where are you going?" He carries on walking. "Bucky, what the hell?"

The Winter Soldier stops dead. As the fighting continues behind him, he raises one hand to his ear and presses the device there. "What did you call me?"

"Bucky."

The gun buckles slightly in his metal grip. He's never been called anything but Winter Soldier by his handlers; whoever's talking to him now is not one of them. "Who the hell are you?" he snarls, and seconds later he's twisting out of the way of an arrow that sticks itself deep into the tarmac where he'd been stood.

Yanking the earpiece out, the Winter Soldier takes off down a side road, cursing as he realises just what he's done to his rifle. Slinging it over his back he's relieved to find a handgun at his hip, checking it for ammunition as he ducks down another road (it isn't great for a long-range firefight, but it's better than nothing). Hiding out behind a dumpster, he goes through what he knows about Captain America's teammate Hawkeye: male, early thirties, blonde hair, extraordinary eyesight, favours archery, rarely misses, not bad at hand-to-hand, hates losing, enjoys riling up Stark, has no sense of awareness until he's had coffee, keeps losing socks, still has a corded phone, won't admit that his favourite film is Bambi –

The Soldier blinks. He shouldn't know that. He doesn't know that. Does he? How could he? He's never met the man – but coffee and socks wouldn't be in a dossier… Maybe it was intel he'd overheard preparing for the mission. Swallowing, he acknowledges that that must be it, and steadies himself once more. Footsteps come to a halt at the end of the alley, and he holds his breath to hear the archer slowly move closer; when he figures he's in range, he breaks cover and shoots, blindly ducking as an arrow whizzes over his head.

"Bucky!" Hawkeye yells, firing another one the Soldier's way. "Snap out of it!"

The gun clicks in his hand, and the Soldier pulls out his knife. Close-range, the archer can't immediately use his arrows, meaning he won't have much of an advantage; so he launches into a hand-to-hand attack, throwing punches quickly and moving the knife even quicker. Hawkeye, predictably, tries to retreat, but the Winter Soldier follows him. He needs to eliminate this threat in order to get back on track, and he knows the man's sight is too good for him to try and disappear.

"Bucky – it's me – Clint!" the man says, deflecting with his bow but leaving him unable to defend a heavy left swing. He rolls out of the way, somehow managing to loose an arrow with the motion, and the Soldier feels it ram deep into his artificial shoulder before a buzz of electricity makes the entire arm go slack. Grimacing as he breaks the arrow off, he adjusts his grip on the knife and crowds the archer again, slicing the air in front of him viciously. "Come on Bucky," Hawkeye grunts as he throws a punch. "I know you're in there!"

Part of the Soldier wants to know why he keeps insisting this – as well as why he's still able to fight. True, this costumed American team doesn't like killing opponents so much as incapacitating them, but Hawkeye had ample opportunity to do so when he disabled the metal arm. Why didn't he? And, more importantly, why is he still refusing to properly fight back?

"This isn't you, Bucky." He's trying to put space between them again, still defensive rather than offensive. "Whatever's happened, you can shake it."

"Stop saying that!" the Soldier spits, and something snaps – his attack goes too wide, and the next thing he knows the archer's bow is hooked around his neck, the alley they're fighting in flipping upside down and turning into cold concrete against the side of his face, useless arm splayed out awkwardly beside him. A body settles across his back, the tip of an arrow jabbed into the base of his neck, and the knife wrenched out of his hand.

"You are Bucky Barnes," the archer says, breathing heavily. "You're an American soldier, an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, and an Avenger. Best friends with Steve Rogers – Captain America – and the best fucking thing to ever have happened to me. Clint Barton. Hawkeye." The Soldier squirms, tries to flip them both over but with one arm dead and another pinned his efforts are futile. "Come on, Bucky," Hawkeye pleads.

"Don't call me that!" he shouts into the ground, small stones finding their way into his mouth.

"Remember what we did last night?"

"No!"

"We watched James Bond," the man on top of him says, calm as a breeze. "An old one: From Russia With Love. Just like Nat, you kept laughing through the whole thing. You thought – no, wait," he says, voice dropping slightly. "Tell me what you thought, Buck."

The Winter Soldier's about to snap that this man is being ridiculous when scenes from the film flit through his mind foggily, as if he watched it behind a veil; he remembers laughter, perhaps his own, and repeated cries of "That could never happen!", or "I wouldn't have done it like that", and "How is he doing all of this?". In fact, he remembers he annoyed Clint so much with his criticism that the guy took forty-five minutes getting ice cream, even getting JARVIS on his side to keep –

"I didn't!" the Soldier gasps, struggling again underneath Hawkeye's weight.

"You were cross that I hid out in the kitchen with ice cream –"

"I am the Winter Soldier," he grits out. "You are nothing to me!"

In one quick move, Hawkeye has him on his back, the arrow now aimed at his throat, the man straddling his chest. "You're right – you are the Winter Soldier," he says, tone still even, and the Soldier finds himself looking directly into hope-filled eye, "just not in the way you think." He swallows. "I know what I promised you Bucky, but god, please don't make me do it. You and me still have to look out for each other."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, ignoring the ache at the back of his neck.

Clint adjusted his position, getting more comfortable against Bucky's chest. "'Cause we're the only two who know what it's like to be brainwashed," he said matter-of-factly.

"But Natasha –"

"Has never been forced to hurt her teammates and-or countless others without feeling remorse."

"Well, technically…" Musing over that, Bucky smiled. "You mean she's never needed cognitive recalibration."

"Maybe."

He laughed. "Alright, so I watch out for you and you watch out for me. What then?"

Clint hummed thoughtfully. "When it gets bad, we cuddle on the couch, just like this. Only with ice cream."

"What do you mean by 'bad'?"

"You know," he answered after a beat. "If the memories get too much, or something."

Bucky nodded, short blonde hairs tickling his chin. "And if the memories change us?"

He felt a hitch in Clint's breathing, waited patiently for the answer he suspected he already knew. "I know it's wrong of me to ask," he began quietly, "but… I wouldn't want it to be anyone else."

"You haven't even asked anything," Bucky said, and when Clint huffed at his bad attempt at humour he kissed the top of his head. "Course I would. But you gotta promise to do the same for me."

"Yeah. Sure."

"Come on, Bucky – give me a sign, please. Anything."

The Winter Soldier blinks. The concrete is hard and unyielding under his back, and through the various aches and pains on his body a sharp prick registers at his throat. The man on his chest doesn't have a particularly hard grip, but the threat is there – a threat he'll carry out because he promised to, and the Soldier knows just how much he doesn't want it to come to that. Oddly, the Winter Soldier shares the sentiment; not because it would mean he'd failed the Motherland, but because he didn't want to force him into that situation. He… cares for Hawkeye. Has done for a long time – a very long time. And those feelings are returned. Dare he go so far as to say he loves him? Does it even feel like that? He loved Natalia, he remembers, and he thinks – no, he knows now that what he has with Clint feels… deeper. All those memories, the promises made, they're proof enough that Bucky Barnes loves Clint Barton. The Winter Soldier is an alias, an Avenger, and he's in an alley with Hawkeye on his chest, an arrow ready to slit his throat because –

"Oh god."

Clint stares at him. "Bucky?"

He closes his eyes, nodding. "Yeah."

"Prove it."

Bucky looks directly at him. "You try and cover up how shitty your pancakes are by serving them with ice cream and all kinds of other stupid toppings. But I eat 'em anyway, 'cause it's not like anyone else is gonna know unless I do."

Clint barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he removes the arrow. "I told you already, if you want decent pancakes, get up and make them yourself." With that, he stands himself, helping Bucky onto his feet. Bucky instantly wraps his working arm around his shoulders, pressing as close as he can without knocking them both over, hiding his face in Clint's hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I don't, I don't know what happened." Memories come stiltedly back to him, jarring in their ferocity, and he holds Clint a little tighter.

"Hey, it's alright now," Clint murmurs back, his own arms securely around Bucky. "And I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

"For putting your arm out of commission."

"Oh." They stand apart, and Bucky looks down at the lifeless limb hanging from his shoulder. It'll need a trip to R&D, and the thought makes him groan. "Do I really have to go to Stark for a new one?"

Clint pats him on the back. "I think Coulson might know some other techno-scientist types who can help. He talks about them a lot – Fitzsimmons, or something."

"Great," he sighs, then his hand flies to his ear. "Shit, the team! Starks' suit, it got hit –"

"The team's fine, Cap's been in my ear the whole time," Clint assured him. "They just took Electro down for good. S.H.I.E.L.D's on the way to pack him up and let us get home. I don't know about you, but I fancy a very long shower."

As they begin to walk back, Bucky moans at the thought. "God, yes. And then bed. Or…" He casts a sideways glance at Clint. "Maybe the sofa, and ice cream."

The archer grins. "Sounds great." He pauses to lean in for a kiss, fingers sliding into Bucky's hair, and Bucky thanks his lucky stars that he was able to come back for this. "Thanks, Buck. For not making me…"

Bucky kisses him again, tenderly, to stop the thought before it can progress. "You'd do the same," he whispers, no sense of doubt between them.

AN: Prompt: "The Avengers face a super villain that uses electricity as a weapon, which causes Bucky to flashback to his painful brainwashing sessions mid fight. Suddenly he doesn't remember who among the group is the enemy and who is a friend. Clint has to talk him down and defeat the super villain at the same time."

On to the next one...