Winterhawk Writing

Four.

Bucky liked hoodies. Especially ones so worn that the sleeves were frayed and the drawstring had long since been lost in the wash. His favorite hoodie was a faded purple one with a coffee stain on the pocket. It had a hole on the shoulder and the sleeves and waist were loose since the elasticity had stretched out.
"Hey, has anyone seen my hoodie?" Clint walked into the living room. "It's been missing for, like, a we- oh."
Bucky was curled up on the couch wearing his hoodie and was actually asleep. His hands were tucked into the stretched out sleeves and were curled against his chest. Bucky had his nose buried in collar with the hood pulled over his messy hair. He looked peaceful.
Clint took in the scene for a moment longer before retreating silently.

Bucky woke up and took a deep inhale of Clint's scent that was soaked into the hoodie. A surprisingly pleasant aroma of coffee and pizza and Clint's cologne clung to the worn fabric. He stretched, confused by the crumple of paper as he did. He looked down at his chest to see a purple post it note.
Keep the hoodie, I have plenty, it read in darker purple ink with a poorly drawn thumbs up that was scribbled out.
He flushed and looked around the room. Bucky hadn't meant to fall asleep on the couch and he definitely hadn't wanted Clint to walk in on him wearing his favorite hoodie. Of course Bucky knew he'd been looking for it but lately Bucky slept better with it and had selfishly kept it longer than he'd meant to.
Clint apparently wasn't too weird about it though, considering he was letting Bucky keep it.