#Circus Freak Avenger (Clint Barton)

[protectxthem]

@theresastargirl asked: Well, you know that old saying, “Keep your friends close and make out with your enemies. - dealers choice !

𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. | Accepting

"Are you saying we're friends or enemies?" The deaf archer asks, purple and black sunglasses translating what she said to him via the lens. "Or is this a ploy to make out with me?" He smirks lazily at her, head tilting to the side a bit.

[protectxthem]

When Barney suddenly lurches forward and his hands seize Clint's clothes, a confused look crosses his face up until he is being shoved backward and his brother topples on top of him, then his eyes go wide in fear. He's held there on the ground, just looking up at his brother with his blue eyes wide still as his brother glares down at him. Clint doesn't know what they did to Barney but right now he is fearing for his life.

Could he fight Barney off of him? Maybe but he's not sure how many hits he'll get in before Barney's hitting him back. Both his face and his body, which he didn't know was tensed at the moment, relax as Barney slowly releases his grip and then leaves some room for Clint to sit up. Clint sits up, brushing dirt off of the front of his black and purple hoodie, checking to make sure his bow and arrows weren't broken.

He turns his attention back to Barney and blinks a bit as he tilts his head slightly.

He laughs when he catches the sign language for 'ugly' directed at him. "Less ugly than your mug, big brother." He replies, signing 'ugly' in return. He gets to his knees and runs a hand through his short blonde hair. "I'd ask how you are, but you look like hell so I'm sure that's how you feel." He tried to joke.

Common sense would tell Barney that this was his brother, that there was no denying those features. Blue eyes, stupid ass face. But common sense went out the window when someone was TORTURED day in and day out for god knows how long. The seed of paranoia was there, blossoming into POISON of the mind so easily. Perhaps it was a trick, a trap, something to give him a false hope just to tear it all AWAY from him and leave him right back in that pit of mental degeneration. Maybe it was his own mind finally at its breaking point and creating a hysterical HALLUCINATION that would fade away the moment he blinked. Maybe it was all a dream—— no, the pain was too real for it to be a dream. Either way, even with the undeniable existence of his brother before him, there was that doubt.

It was that doubt that caused him to move. Aggression took hold first, Barney suddenly lurching forward as hands seized the other's clothes. Shoving him backwards onto the ground, toppling with him and HOLDING his brother there. He was waiting for the shoe to drop. One second, then another, no one came to seize him, no new PAIN was brought upon him, and the image certainly wasn't fading away as he glared down at the familiar face. His muscles were tensed, like an animal just waiting to spring and ATTACK the second he sensed a threat. Torture was one thing but if this wasn't his brother?

That was a whole new low.

Slowly, carefully, his grip relaxed before releasing altogether. Careful blue eyes watched him before he sat back and allowing the younger of the two space to sit back up. There was still that HESITATION and doubt that wracked his mind. He was looking for something, anything, to indicate the lies and falsehood. Barney even noted the body collapsed in the hallway just outside the cell now that his eyes had adjusted to the light. A soldier's wariness and the TRAUMA'S alertness moved together in both harmony and chaos in his head.

❝  Still look the same, ❞ he finally said after a long silence. No mention of what had happened, there was no certainty if he had even heard the question before he had lunged at his own brother in an act of self-preservation. Sitting up had placed him back in the corner, heart racing with the sudden surge of ADRENALINE as he allowed the briefest bit of hope to enter his head. A weary hand lifted, just beneath his nose with his index pointing. He pulled it back, the finger curing into a hook position; sign language for 'ugly'. A shot at a brother he couldn't help, like childhood. And, perhaps, a TEST to see if the gesture was understood.

[ao3feed-romione]

Tony Stark's Son (Rework)

Tony Stark's Son (Rework) by Lexialexus

Harry Potter's life turned upside down when he was thirteen, with his Hogwarts letter, and ever since then he's been stuck in a circus of a life in a world many people don't see. He's a star for something he doesn't remember. From the moment Voldemort touched down in front of his home all those years ago, he has been in danger.

Today that ends. Sirius, driven by the need to protect this godson, rips Harry's life apart one more time. This time he leaves behind the prophecy and the drama of Hogwarts. His hope is to let Harry be Harry and nothing else.

Dropped in the middle of New York City with his new 'dad', who just so happens to be Tony freaking Stark, adds a whole new layer of weirdness to his life. Then, there's spider-man, the crime-fighting teen on the streets that Harry is pretty sure just might be his soulmate.

Sirius did this to keep Harry safe, but will that last? With the threat of the dark lord only growing -- and Harry unable to help Hogwarts in the age of Umbridge -- is anyone really safe?

Words: 4934, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Harry Potter, Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Crossover, Soulmates, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Angst, Fluff

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44106124

[ao3feed-stony]

Tony Stark's Son (Rework)

by Lexialexus

Harry Potter's life turned upside down when he was thirteen, with his Hogwarts letter, and ever since then he's been stuck in a circus of a life in a world many people don't see. He's a star for something he doesn't remember. From the moment Voldemort touched down in front of his home all those years ago, he has been in danger.

Today that ends. Sirius, driven by the need to protect this godson, rips Harry's life apart one more time. This time he leaves behind the prophecy and the drama of Hogwarts. His hope is to let Harry be Harry and nothing else.

Dropped in the middle of New York City with his new 'dad', who just so happens to be Tony freaking Stark, adds a whole new layer of weirdness to his life. Then, there's spider-man, the crime-fighting teen on the streets that Harry is pretty sure just might be his soulmate.

Sirius did this to keep Harry safe, but will that last? With the threat of the dark lord only growing -- and Harry unable to help Hogwarts in the age of Umbridge -- is anyone really safe?

Words: 4934, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Harry Potter, Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Crossover, Soulmates, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Angst, Fluff

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44106124

[stony-ao3-feed]

Tony Stark's Son (Rework)

Read it on AO3

by Lexialexus

Harry Potter's life turned upside down when he was thirteen, with his Hogwarts letter, and ever since then he's been stuck in a circus of a life in a world many people don't see. He's a star for something he doesn't remember. From the moment Voldemort touched down in front of his home all those years ago, he has been in danger.

Today that ends. Sirius, driven by the need to protect this godson, rips Harry's life apart one more time. This time he leaves behind the prophecy and the drama of Hogwarts. His hope is to let Harry be Harry and nothing else.

Dropped in the middle of New York City with his new 'dad', who just so happens to be Tony freaking Stark, adds a whole new layer of weirdness to his life. Then, there's spider-man, the crime-fighting teen on the streets that Harry is pretty sure just might be his soulmate.

Sirius did this to keep Harry safe, but will that last? With the threat of the dark lord only growing -- and Harry unable to help Hogwarts in the age of Umbridge -- is anyone really safe?

Words: 4934, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Harry Potter, Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Crossover, Soulmates, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Angst, Fluff

Read it on AO3

[protectxthem]

"Out back, Lila!" Clint calls back as he puts his arrow down. He might've retired but that didn't mean he couldn't brush up on his bow shooting skills every now and again. He adjusts the volume on his hearing aid as he stands up.

He walks into the house, smiling when he sees Lila and Camilla. "Hello, girls." He speaks watching Lila pet her dog Lucky. "How long are you two here for?" He asks, stepping to the side as Nate comes running into the room, grinning widely.

Lila Barton // OPEN

who: Lila Barton, Camilla Danvers when: unknown where: Clint Barton's farm open to: anyone, Clint Barton, Laura Barton triggers: none image triggers: none blog: @goodcryunicorn1

“Mom?! Dad?! Nate?! We are Home!” Yelled out Lila as she arrived at her parent’s house, she was now an nineteen year old girl in college and was visiting her family along side her best friend Camilla.

“Thank God, Coop is traveling the country with his friends, I don’t think I could handle you two making out for two weeks.” Teased Lila as she dropped her bag and kneel down to pet her dog Lucky, God she missed home so much.

[ao3feed-stevebucky]

Tony Stark's Son (Rework)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bk1ouNS

by Lexialexus

Harry Potter's life turned upside down when he was thirteen, with his Hogwarts letter, and ever since then he's been stuck in a circus of a life in a world many people don't see. He's a star for something he doesn't remember. From the moment Voldemort touched down in front of his home all those years ago, he has been in danger.

Today that ends. Sirius, driven by the need to protect this godson, rips Harry's life apart one more time. This time he leaves behind the prophecy and the drama of Hogwarts. His hope is to let Harry be Harry and nothing else.

Dropped in the middle of New York City with his new 'dad', who just so happens to be Tony freaking Stark, adds a whole new layer of weirdness to his life. Then, there's spider-man, the crime-fighting teen on the streets that Harry is pretty sure just might be his soulmate.

Sirius did this to keep Harry safe, but will that last? With the threat of the dark lord only growing -- and Harry unable to help Hogwarts in the age of Umbridge -- is anyone really safe?

Words: 4934, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Harry Potter, Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Crossover, Soulmates, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Angst, Fluff

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bk1ouNS

[protectxthem]

@wearemarvelousmarvels asked: "Our babies are getting too big, I miss having a little baby to cuddle." (For Clint from Laura)

unprompted asks/ask my muses questions | Always Accepting

"Well.." Clint spoke, with a small shrug. "We can get a puppy. I know it's not technically the same but you can cuddle a puppy and a dog once it grows out of its puppy stage." The archer shifts a bit on his feet with a small smile. "We could always have another baby too, or even adopt one."

[avengerscompound]

Apartment X - Chapter 4

A Hawkeye Fanfic

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS //

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Character pairing:  Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1754

Warnings:  Talk of cam work

Synopsis:   You had chosen your apartment for a lot of reasons.  It was quiet.  It had good light.  It was secure.  Your landlord was an Avenger.  It was a good space to live and work and feel safe. When you become friends with your landlord Clint Barton, it also comes with the potential of a pretty special boyfriend.  You’re just not sure how the public will react to finding out that one of the Avengers is dating a Camgirl.

Chapter 4

You were a little nervous.  It was ridiculous really.  You knew Clint Barton.  You had keys to his apartment.  You saw him every day - often in his boxers and you in nothing but a robe.  It was Clint.  Your Clint.  Your friend and neighbor and local coffee thief.

Tonight you were going on your first date with him and you were freaking out.  You had already tried on five different outfits and you were about to move on to your sixth.  You wanted tonight to be perfect.  You wanted to look perfect.  You wanted to be the perfect start to the perfect relationship with your perfect partner.

You went back to your closet and pawed through the clothes you owned again, now wishing you’d gone out to buy something new just for the date.  As you shifted each hanger over, the perfect dress popped out at you.  It was short and flirty and in a soft periwinkle, a color you knew Clint would like.  You pulled it out and put it on, checking yourself out in the mirror.

This was it.  It was sexy but sweet.  It made you feel desirable but not so much that you’d be worried Clint would only be thinking about sex all night.  You wished you’d thought of it earlier.

With your dress chosen, you started on your hair and makeup.  You had just picked up your foundation when you heard Clint calling your name from downstairs.

“I’m in my bedroom.  Just fixing my hair!” you called back.

Clint appeared in the doorway a moment later.  He wore a gray suit that didn’t quite fit him properly.  It looked like it had been made for someone with much broader shoulders than Clint and was a little too long in the arms.  He’d paired it with a tie in the same shade of purple as your dress.

“So this is where the magic happens?” he asked as he looked around your room.  As well as the typical bedroom items such as a bed, a dresser, books, and knick-knacks, you also had a lighting and sound rig along with two video cameras pointed at your bed.

“Yep,” you said.  “Welcome to the studio.”

He stepped inside and started poking around your equipment.  He shifted the light diffusers and moved one of the cameras back and forth on the tripod as he looked through the viewfinder.  “You have a pretty decent setup,” Clint said.

“I put on a pretty decent show,” you said as you watched him in the mirror trying to read his reaction.  You didn’t usually take dates in to see your setup unless you’d specifically roped them in to participate in a stream.  Even the most open-minded people were often a little startled to come face-to-face with it, and it would definitely not be something you did on a first date.  You wondered how he was taking it.  Would it scare him off being faced directly with it or would he be a little too interested in it?

Clint just looked curious.  He was poking around clearly more interested in the rig than the things you filmed with it.  “You make pretty decent money?” he asked.

“I don’t do too badly,” you answered.

Clint looked over at you as you sat at your vanity.  “Do you want help with your hair and makeup?”

You turned to face him, looking him in the eyes.  “Do you actually know how to do hair and makeup?”

“I grew up in the circus.  I know all about hair and makeup,” he said, coming over to you and looking a lot like an excitable puppy.

“I don’t want to look like a clown!” you yelped.

“I don’t want you to look like a clown either!” he laughed.  “God.  I still have nightmares about clowns.  Trust me.  You’ll look good.”

You bit your bottom lip as you looked into his eyes and only saw earnestness reflected back.  “Okay.  Fine.  I trust you.”

There was something intimate about someone else doing your hair and makeup.  It was an intimacy that beat sex in many ways.  He was so close and using such a tender gentle touch.  It made your scalp prickle and a tingle ran right to your core.  Part of you wanted to shove him back on the bed and forget about the rest of the date altogether.  Then he told you to take a look in the mirror.

You were good at doing your hair and makeup.  Your job needed you to be.  Still, Clint had made you up flawlessly.  You barely even recognized yourself.

“You can do this and you decided to be an Avenger?” you teased.

“I’m even better at shooting arrows,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrows.  “Impressive, huh?”

“That must be something to see,” you said, getting up.  “Shall we?”

Clint offered you his arm and the two of you made your way downstairs.  “So what’s the plan for tonight?” you asked.

“Dinner,” Clint answered as he tried to flag down a cab. “Then we can do something either fun or romantic.  Go to the top of the Empire State Building or go roller skating.  See some live music maybe?  We can play it by ear.”

“Sounds like fun,” you said.

A cab pulled up and it was only a short drive before it was dropping them off at a restaurant.  It was cute - light and airy, but upscale.  The Michelin Star on the door surprised you.  It seemed like a very un-Clint-like place to bring someone.  You looked at him with your eyebrows raised as he pulled the door open for you.  “You know pizza would have been fine?”

“We get pizza all the time.  This is our first date.  It needs to be perfect,” Clint said.

You chuckled to yourself.  It was reassuring to know you both had completely unreasonable expectations for the date.

The maître d’ took you both out to a table in the garden around the back and set you up with your menus before passing your drink orders on to the bar.  Clint flinched as his eyes moved down the menu.  “Pricey…” he whistled.

You made decent money, so you weren’t concerned about being stuck and unable to pay.  You also weren’t expecting him to pay for you.  But you knew Clint.  The guy who grew up poor and ran away to the circus had trouble with extravagance.  He was a one-dollar slice guy, not a fifty-dollar steak guy.

“We can still bail,” you said.  “Vinnie’s does pizza topped with tiny slices of pizza on it.”

Clint laughed.  “Next date for sure,” he said as his eyes skimmed down the menu.  He huffed and shook his head in disbelief.  “Tonight it’s a forty-dollar wagyu culotte.  Whatever the hell that is.”

You pulled out your phone and quickly googled.  “See here I was thinking culottes were pants.  It’s a cut of steak also known as top.  Wagyu… so it’s that massaged and well-fed type.” 

“Okay, yeah.  Yep.  Wagyu beef steak,” he decided, folding up his menu and putting it in front of him.  “All the way from the land of Oz.  I guess that’s worth forty dollars.” 

You chuckled and reached over, taking his hand.  “We’re splitting the bill.”

“No.  No.  No, no, no, no, no,” Clint said.  “First date I pay.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said.  “I make good money and I’m not exactly a traditional girl.”

“No.  I know.  But I’m trying to impress you,” he said playfully.  “Besides, I chose the expensive restaurant.  I should pay.”

You smirked and gently squeezed his hand.  “In that case, I’m getting the lobster… stuffed with caviar.”

“What?!” Clint yelped.  There’s lobster?”

You fell back laughing.  “No.  There isn’t.  Don’t worry.  You don’t need to take out a mortgage on your building to pay for my meal.”

The two of you took a little longer to decide what you wanted to eat and when the waitress had dropped off your drinks and taken your orders you turned your full attention to Clint.  “We’re not putting too much pressure on this date are we?” you asked.

He shrugged.  “I hope not.  I mean, I know I like you, and I know we get along.  We see each other every day though.  I wanted to mark the start of us being a couple as different.  You know?”

You chuckled and nudged him under the table.  “We could have just had sex.”

Clint quirked an eyebrow at you.  “We still can, baby.”

Both of you laughed and Clint took your hand again.  “I don’t know.  Sometimes I think romance is dumb and sometimes I love it.  This place -” he waved his hand around “- I don’t think it’s us.  So we’ll remember it.  Now when someone asks what our first date was like, we’ll know it was here and I spent too much money on a steak from Australia and I tried an espresso martini.  And then after we did something we’d never normally do, like roller skating, or going for a ride on the carousel in the park, or making out on the top of the Empire State Building.  Or you know - whatever?  It won’t just be another day I showed up with pizza and we watched the masked singer.”

Your eyes softened as you watched him and for the first time it felt like your heart fluttered in your chest.  If you were falling for Clint before, you were now head over heels in a heap - completely and overwhelmingly in love.

“You are a complete and utter sap, Clinton Francis Barton,” you said, and leaned over the table and kissed him.

Clint’s lips melded perfectly with yours and his tongue grazed over your top lip, coaxing your mouth open and flicking inside. It was the perfect kiss.  Soft and tender and charged with emotion and an intense mutual attraction.

You both pulled back at the same time and he grinned at you.  “You used my full name.”

“It felt like a full name moment,” you said.

“For a second I thought that I was in trouble.”

You giggled and rubbed the tip of your nose up the side of his as your lips ghosted over his mouth.  Oh, you are absolutely in trouble, Clinton Francis Barton.”

His smile got even wider and his tongue flicked out and danced over your lips. “Good,” he said, his eyes crinkling with mischief. “I get the feeling it is just the kind of trouble I’ve been looking for.”

// NEXT

[protectxthem]

"I know. I do too. What about SHIELD's medical wing? Would that be better? It's not a hospital per se, but they can do a better job at patching up than I can with a first aid kit that contains cartoon bandages." He spoke, holding up a bandage that had the heads of the Avengers in cartoon form.

@protectxthem // cont.

by the looks of it, yeah, he was right. but that still wasn’t something she wanted to hear. “we've dealt with worse without having to see a doctor, haven't we ?” she tried, not hoping that band-aids would actually work, but that least she didn't have to go to a doctor. “i hate hospitals.”

[marvelsbanner]

Part of a Team

Summary: Wanda is the newest Avengers recruit and she’s having a hard time finding her place in this new life- maybe she can find it in you?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x y/n, you

Warnings: Brief mention of death and blood, minor language (if you squint theres kind of compromising situations? nothing outright sexual)

Word Count: ~2700

A/N: Reblogs, likes, and comments are VERY much appreciated, all mistakes are my own! xx 

**I don't own marvel and if I did Natasha would be alive**

Something was wrong. You were just in Strucker’s lab- just on the trail of one of the enhanced twins. The alarms were going off around you and your boots clanged on the metal floor- before you froze in your place, a red haze overtaking you and suddenly you were thrown into the daylight.

-

You felt tingles run through your veins and down your spine; your head throbbed. You felt vulnerable, seen. What the hell is going on-

You’re in the forest, you think. No- there are rocks. Big rocks-

Focus.

No, not rocks. Graves. Gravestones. Where the hell are you?

You drag your heavy feet over to the nearest, it takes a moment for your vision to focus.

Who’s grave? Who’s grave? Oh god.  No no no- this, this can’t be-

Natasha Romanoff.

You felt like throwing up. This couldn’t be real. You dragged yourself to another stone situated nearby: Clint Barton. Beloved husband, father, and friend.

It felt like you couldn't breathe, you were just there with them. You were just there.

Your body jerks as cold hands grab your shoulders and spin your body to face them-

Steve.

You throw your arms around his neck, “STEVE! Oh god Steve! You’re okay- you’re.. cold” you feel something wet and sticky on your hand, pulling it back and seeing red. So much red.

“Steve..” you quickly stumble back, tripping in the process. It’s then you see- it’s too late. His body was grey and lifeless. He falls onto his knees and then collapses totally. You scream and scramble backwards, head hitting another gravestone in the process.

You turn to face it, to read another name of one of the team members you’ve come to call family- but it's not one of theirs. It’s yours.

It’s your name. A graveyard for the Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes.

Suddenly your body jolts and you take a sharp intake of breath- your ears are pounding. Everything hurts. But you see her- the enhanced. She’s looking at you with a look you can’t describe. It’s not fear, it’s not anger.. Pity? Empathy? You can’t look away from her, the glowing red eyes capturing you as their prey.

And then there was black.

-

A few weeks later and you’re back at the tower. Things have changed- the entire world has changed, really. The battle opened up new doors- literal new doors to new realms- that the world had previously thought impossible.

The team had expanded, with Steve’s friend Sam joining the team, as well as Vision, the synthezoid that helped the team to defeat Ultron.

There was also her.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the enhanced twins from Strucker’s experiments, you eventually learned. It was voluntary, but after learning about her backstory you think you would have done the same in her place. 

She lost her brother- Pietro- in the battle and she took it hard. She didn’t come out of her room when she could help it. Clint was rather protective over her, maybe it was the fatherly figure coming out of him- maybe he was feeling guilt over being the one Pietro sacrificed himself to save. Either way, he was able to get her out of the room a few times and get her to eat. Vision also struck up a strange friendship with the girl- but then again, Vision was easy company, and rather empathetic for a synthezoid.

Everybody took a hit from when Wanda messed with their heads, some more than others.

You didn’t talk for a week.

Didn’t even talk with Clint’s kids when they wanted to play with you.

You didn’t hold it against her. She proved what a valuable asset she was to the team as she fought alongside the group. She did what she thought was right at the time, and that’s not something you could hold against anybody.

Ever since the Battle, Wanda has been staying in the Avengers facilities with the rest of the group, an official Avenger, but you could tell she was still uneasy around the team. She only talked when she was directly talked to and didn't come out of her room but for a few times a day for food and training, sometimes not even then.

And then there was you.

She seemed to avoid you like the plague. You weren’t even sure you two made eye contact for the entire first few weeks she was there.

At first you thought she just didn’t like you, that something about you rubbed her the wrong way, or something you had done had offended her.

But it was her eyes that gave it away- the same soft look that she gave you right after exploring the deepest and darkest parts of your mind that day at Strucker’s lab. She knew from the second it happened that she had hit a deep nerve, and she would continue to give you that damn look every time she thought you didn't notice her.

But you always did.

You couldn’t help it, the way you were drawn to her. She reminded you so much of yourself before joining the team, broken, and alone in your head. You wanted to know her. You wanted to be there for her, be someone to her, you didn’t want her to keep walking on eggshells around you.

And so, you told her.

You found her in the kitchen late one night. She was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a garnet tank top with a plain gray robe overtop. Her hair was a mess, roughly shoved into a ponytail and her hands were cupped around a mug. She was blowing on what looked to be dandelion tea, and as you got closer the fragrant earthy smell confirmed your suspicions.

She looked adorable.

And slightly startled to find you alone with her.

“Evening” you said as a greeting as you made your way to the counter top.

She gave a tight-lipped half smile with a timid “Hi” before going back to blowing on her tea. She made a slight movement that looked like she was going to try to slip away before you continued,

“You did really well in training the other day. Cap can’t give you enough praise” you say, taking a seat on one of the counter barstools.

She looks puzzled for a moment over your attempt at small talk before getting out a “Thank you.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, feeling the air grow thicker with each second ticking by.

“I like the pajamas” you say with a small smirk. You yourself were still dressed for the day in your leather jacket and black jeans. You could have sworn you saw flush creep up her neck before she swallowed it down with a sip of her tea.

There was another silent moment as she gave you a quizzical look, “I don’t quite understand what’s happening here.” She says with a vague hand gesture to the space between them.

You gave a slight chuckle, it was very on-brand for Wanda to be straight to the point.

“Look, Wanda,” You rotated your body on the stool to face her more comfortably,

“I see the way you look at me when you think i’m not looking. You avoid me at any given opportunity, I actually think this has been the most words we’ve exchanged in your whole time living here.”

She raised her ducked head to look you in the eyes and gave a small shake to her head, “I don’t understand.”

You don’t break eye contact, but simply offer a small smile as you reply “I’m not afraid of you, Wanda. And I don’t hold anything from that day against you. All is forgiven, and I would like to move past that. I understand you believed everything you were doing was for the right reasons, and the only thing that it shows me is your dedication and loyalty to a greater cause. Even if it was the wrong one at the time.”

She looked shocked, to say the least. Her mouth slightly opening and closing as she pondered what to say in response.

“You all should be afraid of me. You see the chaos I’ve created and you think you know what I can do,” her voice caught before she continued, “But the truth is I don't even know what i'm capable of. I don’t belong here.” she says softly.

You give a sad smile before slipping off of the stool and moving closer to her.

“We all thought that, at one point or another. We’ve got a whole freak circus here, we’ve got more baggage than Delta flies in a year- that's, that's uh, an airline. My bad.” You elaborate after she gives you a puzzled look, holding back a smile at your stuttered explanation.

“Aaand I ruined the moment.” You give a small chuckle, before continuing “But my point still stands. Nobody belongs here more or less than anyone else. We’re all just here, that's the truth of the matter. We’re just a bunch of unlucky misfits trying to figure out how to work as a team. Just give it a try, and maybe you’ll find you fit in better than you imagined you would.”

At some point during your speech you had moved close enough to take her hand, and you look down at it now, blushing before going to move it away.

Before you could, she gives your hand a squeeze before moving in to place a gentle kiss against your cheek.

“Thank you, y/n.”

And with that she slips away to her room, leaving you alone with your racing heart and her lukewarm mug of tea.

-

The next morning you found yourself awake bright and early for another morning training session with Nat and Steve- but you had a guest this time.

“Wanda” you greeted, which she returned with a timid “Good morning.”

“I’m glad you could make it” you say, sincerely.

“I decided to take your advice.” She replies with the smallest smile pulling at her lips.

The two of you stood there for a moment, just taking each other in before Steve cleared his throat, “Alright, we should get started then. Wanda, I'll spar with you to start. Nat, you take y/n. Try not to kill each other, please.” He said with a humored smile.

You make your way towards the corner with Nat on your heels. She gives you a quizzical look with a raised brow, glancing between you and Wanda. You roll your eyes and shake your head, only responding with a pointed “Later,” before your legs sweep under hers and an arm wraps around her torso, flipping you both to the ground and landing with you on top of her.

“Using my own move against me, that’s a low blow y/n.” You both laugh, and you barely respond with a “I learned from the best” before she wraps a leg around your waist and grabs your wrists with one hand, flipping you over and pinning you to the ground. She winks and replies “Damn right you did.”

It went like that for another half an hour, the two of you going back and forth battling for the upper hand. Natasha was the one who had trained you since the beginning, and you could almost say you were near her equal now. Well, you could at least give her a run for her money in a spar.

The two of you were panting and glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed from the exercise when she gave you a mischievous wink and called out to the other two, “Hey grandpa, I think I’m done getting my ass kicked by y/n for the day. I want someone easy, come spar with me”

If looks could kill, the look you were giving her would have the assassin dead on the floor.

Steve only looked amused, grabbing a towel to wipe his own sweat as he responded “Bring it on, Romanoff. Try not to break anything, though. I’ve been told they want my bones for the Smithsonian” Nat rolled her eyes and gave a pointedly fake laugh before they made their way to the other side of the gym, leaving you and Wanda alone.

“Hi” you greeted. She responded with a small smile and a “Hi” in return.

She looked as though she were still catching her breath, the rise and fall of her chest was noticeably fast and her face was still adorned with a glisten of sweat and pretty pink flush.

The same flush you saw from her last night, standing in the kitchen with the dim light around her.

Oh God you were in deep now.

“Nat and I were just wrestling around, hand to hand combat kind of stuff, but I see you and Steve were boxing so it's up to you what you’d like to do.” you say quickly.

“Well.. I do have this,” She waves her hand to show her flicker of red powers “for missions, so I don’t think I really need that kind of training.” She says with a smirk, “But I admit, you seem like a good teacher. Maybe.. some basics?”

She was pushing it. Pushing at this, the same way you were pushing last night. Alright, maybe you could run with this.

You give her a teasing smile, “Alright then. We’ll start slowly. May I?” You ask, reaching out for her, but not quite touching.

“By all means” she says, and you can feel the familiar flush creeping up your neck again. You release a puff of breath and shake yourself out of your thoughts before stepping closer to Wanda, and in one fluid motion you had one leg behind hers, your left arm resting against her upper chest and your other at the small of her back, pushing her flush against yourself.

You could hear the small gasp she let out, smirking to yourself.

“This is a simple take down, easy to get out of, but good for beginning. Now i'm just gonna pull you down as slowly as I can-”

You bring her left leg out from under her and carefully let the two of you sink to the floor, leaving you straddled on top of her and pinning her arms to the ground. The air suddenly felt a lot warmer.

You meet her eyes, breath hitching as you feel her pulse quicken beneath your touch.

You clear your throat and begin again, “Like I said before, it’s easy to get out of, but you want to keep the element of surprise. Use your opponent's body weight against them, if you can twist your wrist to slip it out of their grip and use your hips to to flip-”

Before you could even finish she had you pinned beneath her, wind knocked out of you from the impact.

“Like that?” she said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, thick accent teasing- flirting?

You were suddenly very aware of your close proximity and compromising position- flush against each other with her hips straddling your waist; close enough to feel her rapid heartbeat. 

“Yeah- that was- that was good” you sputtered out, barely able to hear yourself over the rapid beating of your own heart. Or maybe it was hers- you aren't sure you could tell the difference between up and down right now.

She gave a proud smirk and opened her mouth to say something before a certain synthezoid floated through the gym walls, clueless to the moment he was interrupting.

“Mr. Stark requests a team meeting and would like you to meet him in the conference room.” He said simply before turning and leaving through the wall again.

Wanda gave you a look that seemed to say we’ll finish this later and moved off of you. You missed the heat of her body immediately.

She offered you a hand up and you gladly took it, the two of you walking side by side in silence to the meeting, shoulders bumping and small smiles shared between you two as you think to yourself that maybe you could get used to this. 

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[goddessvicky]

To The Young, All Health and Pleasure

                           To The Young, All Health and Pleasure

                                      Chapter Two: Words So Fair

                  ( Interlude I of the The Great Design Unfinished series )

                          By @octobergryphon & @goddessvicky

Fandoms: Captain America, MCU, Thor, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Covenant (2006 Movie) Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis, Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson/Wanda Maximoff, Jane Foster/Thor Odinson Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Chase Collins, Grant Ward, Tony Stark, Peggy Carter, Brock Rumlow, Pietro Maximoff Additional Tags: Stucky, WinterShieldShock, wintershield, wintershock, shieldshock, UST, au covenant, different powers, au magic, assault, bisexual steve, bisexual bucky, bisexual sam, everyone is poly because avengers, polyamory, frat houses, snake god cults, au modern with magic, college, friends to lovers, smut, we tried to make it fluff, we think we succeeded this time, but lesbianhonest we always fail, all the swears, slow burn, the slowest of burns, bring your aloe, Framily, OT3, polyamory

“You’re still driving this ostentatious thing?” Bekah asked as she pulled the car door shut behind her, blocking out the cold that seemed to penetrate into the marrow of her bones. She sighed in delight as she sunk into the pre-warmed seats, stuffing her bag near her feet.

“Hey, it still runs perfectly well. It’s not like I use it a lot on campus, and besides, nothing says ‘party’ like a purple Mustang,” Clint replied, pulling down his sunglasses with a grin. It was really good to see Bekah one on one; most of the time she was with her parents or her brother, or they were all together in a group, but it’d been awhile since they’d had solo hang time. His mind turned back to the time they’d spent together in high school, just the two of them, and Clint realized just how much he’d missed her, which was more than he thought. Random texts and cat memes just weren’t the same. “Tell me, Bekah, what have you been doing in the land of Snakes and Tarantulas?”

Bekah laughed as they settled onto the highway, his question in quintessential ‘Clint’ speak, and lucky for them both, she’d gotten fluent in the language. She launched into the story of going out to Joshua Tree State Park, and getting to watch the tarantula migration in early October.

“It’s like it’s out of a freaking sci-fi movie. The sun sets and you’re sitting in the truck bed, and then all of the sudden these fuzzy black and brown things dig themselves out of the ground and start moving and skittering around. It was so cool. We even had night vision goggles,” Bekah explained, her hands moving as she imitated the spiders coming out of the ground and crossing across the road ways. “Seriously. It was one of the most amazing nature things I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been sneezed on by a Galapagos marine iguana.”

The stories Bekah brought back from school were always entertaining, and while the idea of watching spiders crawl out of the ground might have been exciting to her, Clint held a healthy dose of skepticism. Not that he hated spiders or anything, he just wasn’t as overly passionate. “Was it better than being thrown up on by a circus-level gymnast after a full day at Disney?”

“Yes, Clint,” Bekah deadpanned, “it was better than you throwing up on me after the teacups ride.”

                                          Read More on AO3!

[thorne93]

Long Lost Love (Part 5)

Prompt: Clint just lost everything. He turns to you – an old friend and an old flame – for comfort. Can you keep your old feelings at bay? Can he?

Word Count: 4043

Warnings: The Snap, grief, loss, mentions of abuse throughout series, angst will be the best friend in this fic

Note: This was written after IW, but before Endgame - so I have my own take on how certain things happened. Couldn’t have done this without @arrow-guy @carryonmyswansong @like-a-bag-of-potatoes (my amazing betttaa!) @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Aesthetic by @dontshootmespence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For one year, you two did this. You got up at dawn together, ate a quick breakfast, tended to the animals, did the repairs around the farm, went out for supplies, ate dinner, then went to bed separately. 

You kept your word on going into the city every Monday and Wednesday. You didn’t have half as many patients or clients as before, but the money still helped both you and your staff. You kept your apartment in the city too. You needed something familiar after all the craziness. 

Life was… getting better though. Clint smiled more now, he laughed here and there. He was eating better. You really started to believe he was coming out of his grief, ever so slightly. As it turned out, his family wasn’t the only one he lost in what the Avengers called “The Snap”. Apparently, quite a few people he cared about were gone too. Wanda Maximoff and Sam Wilson being some of them. 

He didn’t much keep in contact with the team. You tried to encourage him to, but he said every time he called them it just reminded him of what he lost. You didn’t quite understand, but you respected him enough not to push it. 

One day, a pipe in the barn had rusted out, so Clint got the things to fix it but he ran out of plumbers tape and needed a monkey wrench. Two things he thought he had brought in his toolbox, but apparently not. He asked you to go grab them from the garage. You nodded and jogged for a bit back to the garage. It was a really hot, dry day and you felt like you needed two showers. The weeds were tall and dry and you couldn’t wait for the next rain to get some of this dust down. 

You got into the garage looking for the plumbers tape. Clint had never organized this freaking mess. You started pulling out bins from a shelf when you looked inside one, you found an old wedding album. It was covered in dust, but it was lace covered. You frowned and opened it. The tools were long forgotten. 

Inside of the book were pictures of Clint and Laura… It was like a punch to the gut.

Both of them stood with giant grins on their faces. They had the typical run of the mill wedding. She was in a satin gown, her hair up, a simple pendant on her necklace. She held his hand, smiling proudly. Her veil was perfect. He stood there in a tux, his smile rivaling that of the sun. 

You flipped through, and you didn’t know if you were going to smile from how happy and silly they looked on their special day. How happy you were for both of them. Or if you were going to scream and cry and break down because it should’ve been your day. He’s all you’d ever wanted…

Why weren’t you good enough? What went wrong? 

After several minutes, Clint came running into the garage. “Y/N? Where the hell-- Oh, there you are. Did you find the stuff? We gotta get this pipe fixed.”

He didn’t see what you had in your hands because you were turned away from the door he just came through. 

“You never told me why you never asked me back out…” 

He instantly stiffened. “Y/N,” he started, his tone full of warning. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it. 

You turned around, snapping the wedding book shut as you looked at him. “No I wanna know. When we left the circus, I was under the impression that one day you’d come back for me....” 

He took a few steps closer to you. “I tried, I wanted to, but with SHIELD--”

You were beyond angry. You were trying to hold this in because you knew he was grieving and you didn’t want to come into his life like a hurricane and make his pain worse. But you had feelings too that had never even been addressed or considered, so you wanted to know. 

“Don’t blame SHIELD, you married Laura so something was okay with having a life, a wife, a family.” 

“I didn’t want you to get hurt and I didn't think you wanted me back.”

“What gave you that idea?” you questioned, entirely flabbergasted. 

“When I visited you in Manhattan you said you didn’t want a guy in your way.” 

You frowned, trying to remember the interaction. When you finally did, you looked up at him. “That? You thought I meant you? I was talking about other guys, Clint!”

“I thought you meant it as a subtle way to tell me to take a hike.” 

Your eyes wildly searched his. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You couldn’t be with the only man you ever loved because he misunderstood a half-assed joke years ago? 

“No!” you cried out. “I waited for years for you to come back,” you stated, tears flowing despite your efforts to keep them inside. 

He looked down, feeling guilty and ashamed that he didn’t make it more clear back then that he did want you back. “Well, I’m sorry. I thought you were moving on.”

“No,” you informed, your voice full of anger and sorrow. You shook your head. “I was waiting.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. You said your life was too busy at the moment, I just assumed you meant for me, for everyone,” he said, not realizing how badly he’d been mistaken. He thought back to that day the clinic, realizing how your words would’ve sounded, but you thought he knew you well enough you meant other men. Anguish started to wrap around him slowly, creeping up into his throat. “I had no idea.”

“Well now yow you do.” You shoved the album into his chest and went back outside. 

-----------------------------

For the next few days, you cried yourself to sleep. Thinking Clint didn’t want you was one thing. Thinking he just wanted to move on was one thing. 

But finding out he actually thought you were telling him to move on was just unbelievable to you. You’d spent all this time, all these years, waiting for him and he had no idea. You thought you were clear. You thought it was understood on both sides that you’d get your lives together and he’d come back for you.

You couldn’t go after him, you didn’t even know what part of the world he was in most of the time. You wanted to write letters, to make it clear. After he joined SHIELD and visited you in college, you thought he’d come back, again. He came back then, right? You just assumed he was still getting his life together.

Then one day… he had visited you… and told you about Laura.

The bell chimed to your clinic, the same one that always introduced new clients and their precious patients. But this bell chimed to signal that the only person you’d ever loved just walked through the doors. 

You happened to be out front at the desk, talking to your front desk staff, going through a chart when he walked in. You looked up and saw the disheveled blonde looking like a sight for sore eyes.  

“Clint, hey,” you beamed, grinning from ear to ear. You wondered if this was it, if this was when he was finally going to ask you to be with him again. You felt it had been long enough. It’d been over a decade. He was well into SHIELD by now, and you were well on your way to Manhattan’s finest veterinarian. Maybe he was finally coming to tell you he was ready, ready to be together, to start a family -- you certainly were. 

“Hey, Y/N, long time no see,” he greeted kindly.

“Yeah, I’ll say. It’s been forever. How’ve you been?” 

“Good,” he answered, shrugging as he put his hand in his pants. “Hey, you wanna grab coffee? Do you have time?”

You glanced down at your schedule and then your watch. “Yeah, I’ve got a little over an hour before my next appointment. Girls, can you make sure to take care of any walk-ins?” you requested. They said they would and you two were off. The closest cafe was only three doors down. After a quick trip out of your clinic front, you found the cafe, ordered, got your drinks, and sat down. 

“How have you been?” he asked and you suddenly realized what had been off about him since he walked in -- he seemed nervous. 

“I’m fine?” you responded, sounding as if it was a question. You let out a laugh to indicate how befuddled you were. In a way, it was. You were confused as to why he was giving you small talk. You two grew up together, you were closer with him than anyone on this planet. Why was he being so weird? 

“That’s good. Really good. I’m glad to hear it. Your business?”

“The clinic is doing just fine. I’m treating all kinds of animals. I’m really good. Are you? You seem a bit… off.” You wanted to reach towards him, possibly comfort him or just be closer to him. It seemed like you hadn’t hugged him in centuries. 

He looked down for a moment. He hadn’t touched his coffee, that was a red flag right there. If Clint Barton could IV the coffee, he would. Something must’ve been really troubling him. 

He took a deep breath and then looked up at you again. “I’ve met someone,” he informed evenly. 

Ice felt as if it replaced your heart. You stared at him in utter shock, horror, dismay, confusion, bewilderment. You struggled to keep your composure at all. How… How could you have been this blind? 

“Oh?” was all your lump-ridden throat would let out. 

“Yeah, uh, her name is Laura. She’s great. She really kind of kicks my ass when I need it.” He softly chuckled. “We got married…”

Did he want you to be happy for him? How the hell could you not see this? Were you waiting for a man for over a decade that didn’t want you? Or did he not realize you were waiting?

No, he clearly didn’t want you. If he loved you, if he truly loved and wanted you, he would’ve made his feelings clear for you between leaving the circus and now. All this time… wasted. Hoping without hope, waiting without word, wanting without cause just to find out he moved on, and didn’t even tell you until after it was too late to make your case?

These were clearly the actions of a man who was no longer in love with you, and possibly never was. 

“Does she make you happy?” you asked, somehow hoping that would numb the crushing pain inside you.

“She does,” he said with a head nod.

“Then that’s all that matters. Congratulations.” You leaned over and hugged him, fighting back tears harder than you’d ever fought anything. 

--------------------

You were in the city, it was Wednesday afternoon. You wrapped up your last walk in, wished the girls a good evening, got to your car in the parking garage, and headed back to the farm. Why, you weren’t sure. At this point, it was pathetic. Clint loved someone else. You weren’t sure how many times he needed to make that absolutely clear. 

And yet, you continually ran to him, over and over and over. He showed up and you did anything for him. You never stopped loving him, not even when he told you he was going to give the life you deserved away to another woman.

You didn’t hate Laura, it wasn’t her fault. You were happy that Clint had a good, full life with her and the kids… You just didn’t know why it wasn’t your life with him. 

For years you had sacrificed your own happiness, believing that one day he would find his way back to you, but he never did. He even made it perfectly clear to you, through matrimony, that he didn't want you anymore. You still couldn't move on.

How do you move on from the one man who had saved your life? From the one man who saw you when you were scrounging for scraps at dinner? The one man who would take a beating just to find a pretty flower or trinket left in the stands to give it to you. The one man who made you laugh until your sides begged you to stop laughing. The one man who was both as deadly accurate with a bow and arrow as he was with his acrobatic skills. The one man who could brighten your day in the smallest of ways. He could see you when you were down and he knew how to make everything okay. Even being an orphan in a circus with bosses who threatened you and beat you, as long as Clint was there, you truly didn’t care.

When he left your life, the light slowly went out of you. He snuffed out that last small flame in you when he tied the knot with Laura. 

Now, his family was gone. You were back in his life, but you didn’t want to be a last resort, and yet that’s all you felt like you were to him. Someone to run to only when he’d run out of options. 

For some reason, that was something you never had an answer for. 

You returned to the farmhouse, walking in, throwing your keys on the entry table, trodding in with your medical bag. You were absolutely beat. Between working the long hours, the emotional pain, and the long drive, you just wanted to head to bed.

Something caught your eye though. Just as it did, Clint appeared out of the kitchen.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted happily. 

“Yeah,” you said with a bit of confusion in your tone. You peered around him. “What’s going on?” you asked. You could see the kitchen was dimmed, candle light illuminating it with a small strand of fairy lights on the counter. 

He reached out and took your hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He pulled you forward, his face warmer than it had been since you’d arrived. 

As he tugged you into the room, you could clearly see it. There was a lace tablecloth on the table with two candles, and two romantic place settings. Fairy lights lit the kitchen and counter space. There was a small vase filled with wildflowers you’d seen on the farm. 

“What… what is all this?” you asked with some mild excitement. 

“I’m taking you on that date you always wanted,” he said with a bit of a shrug and a smile. 

You shook your head. “I can’t believe you did all this.” 

“Well, you deserve it. You deserve a lot for having to put up with me, the farm…”

“The farm isn’t so bad,” you said as you lowered yourself into a seat and he began to grab food and plate it for you. “Animals are a breeze to work with. You, not so much.” You smiled up at him with a teasing gleam in your eye.

“I know. You’ve made the hardest part of my life a lot… easier to deal with. If you hadn't answered your phone that day… I honestly don’t know where I’d be. Off a deep-end somewhere.” He sat down across from you and began to eat and sip his wine. 

“I’m sure Nat and the rest of the team help keep you sane, when you call,” you added, trying not to sound like you were the sole reason he was mentally okay.

“Somewhat, but having you here, having your help, your presence, knowing I can talk to you any time… It really helps.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. Having an escape from… out there is nice too. Of course, I’m always happy to be around you, too,” you confessed a bit uneasily. 

You weren’t sure what this was, where it was going. Was this two friends having a dinner date? Or was it truly the date you always wanted that he never came back to give you? You weren’t sure how to steer the conversation and hoped that he’d be a guiding light. 

“It reminds me of this time Nat and I had to bunker down in a cave for two weeks. God, I made so many bat jokes I think she was ready to kill me. To be fair, coming out in the sunlight was hard as hell on the eyes,” he said, shaking his head and continuing to eat. 

“I bet. Jeez, I couldn’t do that. Any part of your job seems impossible to me. When you all were fighting Loki, oh my gosh. No, it seemed absolutely crazy.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said. “I saw you train tigers and lions and elephants like it was nothing. You were never afraid of them.”

“Because I never intended to hurt them,” you replied easily. “They trusted me, I trusted them. It was simple. But the people, the things, the aliens you face… it’s… a lot. I would be trying to hurt them, and people change when it’s a fight for their life. I wouldn’t have the guts.” 

“I bet you would. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met and I’ve trained with the best.”

“You’re just saying that,” you quietly said, waving him off. 

“I’m not. Really. You know me. I’ll tell you if you can’t handle shit. I used to tell recruits all the time that they weren’t cut out for this job. I’d sit them down, explain everything they might ever face, and tell them I didn’t think they had it in them. Nine times out of ten they listened to me.” 

“Did you tell them getting put under mind control was a possibility?” you teased before sipping your wine. 

He laughed. “Not until it happened, then I started telling them to be prepared for literally anything. God. We went from taking weapons from the bad guys to trying to knock out aliens, killer android bots, to fighting for the universe. My job was supposed to be relatively simple. Somewhere those lines got blurred.” He shook his head, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

“I bet. My job never got more exciting than an unusual diagnosis,” you stated.

“I think you liked it that way though,” he suddenly said, staring at you. He had this look of...adoration in his eyes and face that you hadn’t seen since… well since you left the circus. 

“You do?” you questioned, thrown a bit by his response. 

“Yeah, I mean our lives in the circus were nothing but… well hectic. A new city every few days, training with exotic and wild animals. We never knew where our next meal was coming from and we also had to fight to survive. Our childhood was far from a picnic. I think you chose a job that’s relatively stable and helps animals and people.”

You lowered your head, wondering if maybe that’s why he gave you up. “You must think I’m pretty boring then, hmm? You went and chased adventure, fun, chaos…” 

“I went after what I knew. The circus equipped me with skills to be an archer and the only way I knew that I could make something of myself was to go military. I figured my footwork, my acrobatics, and archery would help, and they did. I didn’t care for the action part of it.”

“So if you could’ve had a normal, steady, peaceful life with your talents, you would have?”

“Oh yeah, in a heartbeat. It’d mean I could’ve stayed closer to you.” 

He reached across the table and held your hand. You were overjoyed of course, but again that gnawing feeling of being second best began to creep up from your stomach. You quieted it, trying to tell yourself this was all you had wanted, and you should take what you could get. 

You smiled at him and held his hand. “I’m glad you found SHIELD, and Nat. I’m glad you found the team.” 

“Me too. Oh, man, I have to tell you about this time we were in Budapest,” he suddenly said, his face lighting up.

You nodded, motioning for him to continue and he did. He launched into a full story that had you rolling. It was both scary, thrilling, and funny. He had you on the edge of your seat, listening. Before long, you two were swapping crazy stories. Yours mainly involved animals swallowing weird things or really bizarre animal custody cases or someone once flying you all the way to London to look at their pet bird because they only trusted you. He told you about missions that were funny or odd or where they barely made it out. 

When you first arrived here tonight, you were weary, and you weren’t sure you were going to stay, but now, regardless of what tonight was, it was a reason to stay. Your exhaustion was long forgotten as Clint walked you upstairs. He was finally sleeping in his master bedroom again. It was a slow process and sometimes you still ran in there when he woke up screaming or crying in the middle of the night, but at least he wasn’t on that shitty couch of his. 

“Well, this is me,” you feebly joked as you stood at your door, throwing a thumb over your shoulder. 

Clint just nodded, smiling at you. “Thanks for having dinner with me and giving me a second chance.” 

“Thanks for offering me one to give,” you responded quietly. 

The two of you looked at each other. That look in his eye had returned, after all this time. He was looking at you just like he used to every night at the circus. That same look that told you he couldn’t live without you and he couldn’t lose you. It was there again and you had it all to yourself. 

And for the first time in forever, you wanted to feel him again. You had always loved him, always were in love with him, that much was true, but the longing and desire had been snuffed out quite some time ago. 

Now, it was ignited again. His unruly blonde locks were poking out everywhere, reminding you of a younger time, a time when it was you two against the world. His eyes were alive with so much longing, it sent you to the times when you lied next to each other under the stars. He was so close to you, you could feel his body heat. 

Your body ached to close the gap in that dark hallway, only illuminated by a full moon and one small lamp upstairs in your room. It was as if kissing in the darkness meant no one knew. It was as if it wouldn’t be like he was betraying Laura in her own home. It was as if it could give him permission or a guise to love you. 

And so he took it. 

He swept towards you quickly, capturing your lips with his and you nearly gasped from the shock. He tasted… new and yet familiar. The familiar warmth and nuttiness of coffee wafted off of him, as did the smell of farm work, not that different from the circus. But there was also this mintiness to him, this sweetness too, those were new. 

You embraced it though. Your hands went to his shoulders, holding them firmly so you could steady yourself. His hands were on either side of your face, where they always found themselves when you kissed. 

His lips were firm, tender, moving with purpose. When he let you go, his eyes were closed and you simply stared at him. He rubbed his lips together before saying, “Goodnight.” 

He let go of your face before grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze, and he went to his room.

“Sweet dreams,” he quietly called before shutting his door. 

For the first time in over ten years, you thought you could actually have sweet dreams, and you retreated into your room, looking forward to the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[the-ash0]

cookies

“Oh-my-god!” Sam Wison feels his heart leaps from his chest. It’s physically painful. One moment he’s on his way out through one of the many hallways of Tony Stark’s memorial tower, the next—‌

the fucking Winter Soldier is inches away from his nose.

Upside down.

Sam backs up, turns to the side, and rubs at the place where his heart tried to beat out of his chest. It hardly helps, so closes his eyes to swallow down the nausea. Only after precious moments does he dares squint at the figure dangling upside-down from an air vent. 

Bucky Barnes doesn’t appear to have any feelings of guilt or even sick satisfaction from scaring a man who’s supposed to be his new ‘Commanding Officer”, not to mention his friend. No, he’s completely blank as he turns to hang right-way-down, finally jumping to the floor soundlessly.

Sam finally finds his voice. “Why were you up there, man?” it’s some kind of spy thing, he bets. But. “isn’t that kind of thing more Hawkeye’s speed?”

“Oh good.” Bucky tells him as he traightens, somehow not at all dusty or dirty after dragging his ass through air-vents for god knows how long. Black jeans still black, white tee still white. “My tactics of misdirection have at least befuddled the air-force. Maybe it’ll work on all bird-brains and I’ll be scot-free.”

Sam just blinks, tries to figure out what that means—‌ except for the obvious quip at him being airforce and therefor of lesser intelligence. But before he can, Bucky wraps his real arm around the only-slightly smaller man (damn it, serum cheaters); starts steering him towards the exit. “Hey, you remember how you promised to teach me how to bake those cookies? Well, now would be a great time.”

Sam blinks once more, searching his memory of the aforementioned promise. All he can come up with is the movie-night three weeks ago. When he’d backed what was left of the Avengers some chocolate chip cookies. To cheer them up. There’s not much left of the Avengers, and Sam felt he needed to do something nice.

It’s true that Bucky had, in fact, asked uncharacteristically enthusiastically. “These are the best cookies ever, Wilson. You gotto show me how you do that.”

And Sam had answered, unsure of where all that sudden emotion had come from and unwilling to make a false move in lieu of unbalanced supersoldier, promised. “Yeah, sure. Maybe someday.”

They are in his car (Sam is not a fan of Buchy in his car), before he asks. “Who are we running from?”

“Evading. For the time being.” Bucky moves around in shotgun, trying to get his seat back all the way. His seatbelt isn’t done up either. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if this guy’s shit will get him arrested today. But, hey, all part of Captain America’s heritage he guesses.

“Fine. Who are we evading?” Bucky grunts. “Clint Barton.”

“Hawkeye?” Sam doesn’t understand that. “Isn’t he retired..? And why would you need to.”

“Apparently, he had to come out of retirement just to have a dick measuring contest with the WInter Soldier.” for the first time since Sam saw him today, there’s a hint of emotion in Bucky’s voice. Sam thinks that’s an improvement. Bucky showing a bit of feeling is good. It’s when he goes full-on emotional that Sam’s warning lights start flashing. He feels bad about it, but his work with POW’s taught him the signs, and Sam just got this new Audi last week. He doesn’t want to lose another car to a Winter Soldier melt-down.

Like he can hear Sam’s though, Bucky starts ticking the fingers of his metal left arm against the glass. “He was at the tower today for some business and he invited me to the shooting range.” 

Sam swallows, drives on. Stops at the next light, and starts up again when the lights turn green. He tries not to; he really does. But in the end Sam breaks; he needs to know. “Who won?”

Bucky grins; a manic thing. “Well, with a tripod it’s not really clear, but I kicked his ass with free-hand.”

“Course you did. You got an artificially steady arm to balance your fire-arm on.” Sam winces at his own words, but it kind of spilled out. He stops at the street in front of his house before he gets an answer. “That’s exactly what Hawkeye said.”

Bukcky gets out, slams the door and starts striding towards his house, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief. Before remembering that his house is the next item on the danger list. It is also unnerving Bucky knows exactly which house on this street is his. Like he’s been here before. And Sam definitely did not yet invite his unbalanced work-colleague. 

“Again.” Bucky tells him while Sam fiddles with the lock. “Clint said exactly the same. And then he went on a tangent that the only real ranged weapon is a compound bow.”

Bucky follows Sam into the house, pushes past him in the hall and continues right on to the kitchen. By the time Sam has taken off his shoes and coat, he finds Bucky hip-deep in his refrigerator. “Don’t you have any root beer?”

“I kind of figured you for a wodka guy.” Sam offers, annoyed. Running a hand down his own counter.

“Funny.” Bucky pauses, pulls his head out of the fridge to look at Sam. “You got any of that?”

At Sam’s shake of the head, Barnes grunts, takes his milk and sits down at the opposite side of the counter. Then he starts chugging the stuff. Right. From. the. Carton.

It makes Sam sick to look at it. And not just because he’s got lactose intolerance. Annoyed, he gets up. “So are we making those cookies or what?”

“Oh.” Bucky has apparently already forgotten. His primary goal met, all pretence to get his way are abandoned. It’s typical, really. Bucky works the same way on missions: one task, no distractions. It’s.. sad. Sam is pretty sure Bucky Barnes needs a break, at the very least. And, ideally, an honorable discharge and a lot of therapy. But somehow the powers that be have decided that’s not what is going to happen. And Sam is stuck with a damaged side-kick. Well; Sam deflates. It’s hardly Bucky’s fault. “Come on, let’s get the dough out.”

Sam has Bucky kneading the dough before he asks: “So, what happened? With Clint?”

“Well, he started showing off and shit. With his bow.” Bucky blinks, sounding annoyed again. “What’s his problem anyway?”

Sam doesn’t have a clue. “Well.. He is from the circus?”

“Figures. One freak-show to the next. Anyway, after him showing off, I figured how hard can it be?”

“Oh.” The cookies go in the pre-heated oven, and `bMucky spends a ridiculous amount of time looking at them. When he finally speaks, it’s more to the oven than to Sam. “Did you know how fragile compound bows are?”

“They are not…” Sam eyes the gleaming, metal arm. “Alright, I suppose they are pretty fragile to you.”

Another grunt; eloquence when speaking of your troubles must have been an academic subject in the ninteenfourtees, Sam thinks. “So.. was he.. very mad?”

“He said it was fine and he wasn’t mad at all.”

“Really?” Sam finds that hard to believe. And he can see why that would have been more scary than a raging Hawkeye. Spies and revenge, after all.

“Then he said ‘excuse me, I need to get a drink.’” 

Sam blinks “And that.. scared you?” drinking away your problems seems such a faux-pas thing to Sam, he’d expected Bucky Barnes to be more comfortable with that solution. Or was that more of a ninteen-sixties thing?

“No. Him saying he wasn’t mad scared me. Him going out to get drunk made me realise I really don't feel like needing to look over my shoulder all week for some drunk hit-man.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Oh-my-fucking-god!” For the second time that day, Sam’s heart tries to leap out of his chest. It’s as bad as the first time. Maybe worse; compound damage and all that. Sam’s house doesn’t even have air vents. 

Still, Clinkt Barton drops right from the ceiling. Or wherever he’d been hiding. His clothes are a lot more dirty and rumpled than Bucky had been, but that’s a given with him “And anyway, what would I shoot you with? You broke my bow.”

“Oh my fucking god is right.” Bucky is back to blank-masked and straight-backed. “I hadn’t even considered he could bitch at me about it. Besides, you said it was fine.”

“I lied.” there’s a theatrical tremble to Hawkeye’s voice. “I was being manly about it. But damn man, you killed my best friend!”

“It’s a fucking bow.”

This is escalating too quickly. Some kind of masculinity contest indeed.  “Look,” Sam interjects. “Bucky baked you some I’m-sorry-cookies to make up for it.”

“I am too upset for cookies. My-” Hawkeye blinks his glassy eyes, ”what kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.” Bucky offers, stone-faced. It occurs that perhaps he really did want to make the cookies as a peace-offering. One can never tell with those centenarians. Steve Rogers was bad enough but- well. He’s not sure Barton is much better. Perhaps Sam is just dealing with two stunted individuals trying to make up and failing.

For no obvious reason, Barton has opened the oven, and is in the process of claiming not-quite well-done cookies and trying to pick them up with his bare fingers. Burning himself in the process. Repeatedly. “These are great, Buck.” Barton finally proclaims. “I have officially forgiven you.”

“Fuck you too, Barton.” Bucky scowls.

“But if I need to kill anyone, you will have to let me borrow your arm.”

“What?”

“Three-armed monster. It’ll be epic. Trust me.”

Sam sighs, allowing a grin. Stunted indeed. 

@bukys-other-punk

[protectxthem]

@skallagrimulfhedinn asked: Skallagrim hadn't realized how far away from his farm he had wandered when he came out of the woods and found Clints farm. He decided it would probably be best to ask directions back and so he knocked on the door

Unprompted Ask | Always Accepting

"Dad! Door!" Cooper shouts from his spot on the couch, hanging partly off it while watching tv.

"Thanks, Coop." Clint replies, sarcastically as he walks past his son and toward the front door, setting his phone down on the kitchen table as he passes it. Clint approaches his screen door and pushes it open slightly, so as to not hit the other.

"Hey, man. Can I help you?" He asks, a little confused as to how someone found his farm because as far as he knew his nearest neighbor was about half a mile away or so.