#Clint is giving luckys paws a break

[gayspacedrawings]

Waiting for Tony's coffee order to be ready

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch53: I’d Like A Bloody Mary, Please.

Intro: The team plan their Time Heist and figure out exactly where, when and how to get the Infinity Stones.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Some pretty dirty Smut in this one! (NSFW) No under 18s. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: @angrybirdcr​ is my SSB edit BAE

Chapter 52

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

After some grumbling from Emmy about it being a “ridiculously, god-forsaken time on a Saturday morning” to which Steve had quipped back that there were two six o’clocks in a day, the Rogers family, plus bags and a dog were leaving their Brooklyn home behind and heading to the compound for the foreseeable. Once they arrived, Steve effortlessly grabbed the bags from the car, Emmy picking up her rucksack and following him into the base, whilst Lucky raced off over the grounds to greet Clint who had clearly been on an early morning jog. Jamie shot off after him and Katie headed behind at a slower pace. She watched as Jamie reached the dog who was receiving an ear scratch from Clint and laughed out loud when Jamie straightened up and gave Clint the ‘I’m watching you’ sign with his hands. The Archer’s head fell back as he roared with laughter and Jamie stalked off, complete with sandy coloured dog at his heels, casting a filthy glance over his shoulder to double check Clint wasn’t following.

“Tony taught him that!” Katie explained as Clint looked at her. “I really should tell him off for being so rude but damned, he loves that dog.”

“Well Lucky clearly loves him.” Clint smiled, watching the two as they gambolled over the lawns “You can relax Nova, I’m not gonna steal him back.”

“Good. Because Steve and I would be really screwed if you did.”

Clint threw his arms around her and gave her a squeeze before he headed inside for a shower. Katie called Jamie back and they walked into the compound and down to their living quarters. Steve gave her a quick peck before heading off to the briefing room to meet Tony and Bruce, whilst Katie made sure the kids were settled.

“We’re only doing the brain storming today.” She looked at Emmy. “So if you wanna go out in the grounds feel free but just watch him, okay? And stay away from the labs!”

“Yes, Mom.” Emmy nodded.

“If you need us just ask FRIDAY. We’ll probably break for a late breakfast, or brunch, in an hour or so.”

Emmy nodded and Katie dropped a kiss to Jamie’s head as he was sat furiously scribbling at his latest drawing. She loved how he had taken to art like his dad. Emmy also had a natural talent for it, and it made Katie almost jealous. She had often joked to Steve how she couldn’t even draw curtains.

She headed down the familiar corridors and arrived at the briefing room, grabbing a coffee from the waiting batch someone, she suspected Natasha, had ordered in. Taking a place at the edge of the room besides Clint, she perched on the arm of the sofa next to Rocket and looked up. There were a number of hologram displays, showcasing each of the six Infinity Stones and the rest of the group sat round the room whilst Tony, Steve and Bruce were pacing at the front ready to lead the planning of the mission. They were deep in conversation, and Tony pressed something which made one of the holograms flip to the forefront, the one bearing the Aether or the Reality Stone as they knew it. Katie took a long drag from her coffee.

 “Kids okay?” Steve asked as he approached her, dropping a kiss to her head. She nodded.

“Jamie was scribbling away, Emmy was doing something on her laptop, not sure what, she’s being cagey.”

“She got a boy on the go?” Steve frowned. “Do I need my shotgun?”

Clint snorted and Katie grinned as she looked up. “No idea, and if she has threatening whoever it is ain’t gonna help, she’ll just call you a moron or something.”

“She’s right.” Rhodey smirked as he took a seat next to Natasha, overhearing on his way past “Gotta keep it cool, Cap. Although I seem to remember Tony flipping out at your first boyfriend, what was his name?.”

Katie snorted. “Michael Swanson, Mikey.” She sighed. “He was a nice guy.” Steve arched an eyebrow at her. “What?” she laughed, looking up at him. “I was sixteen. Mikey only lasted a year, surprised he made it that long to be honest after Tony threatened him with a blowtorch the first time I introduced them.”

“A blow torch?” Steve pondered. “Now that’s an idea…”

Katie narrowed her eyes at him. “No.”

He gave her a cheeky grin then looked up as Tony called across the room “If you two have finished gazing into each other’s eyes thought we could start.”

“Bite me.” Katie quipped to her brother as her husband returned back to the front of the room and took his place. Katie watched as Steve Rogers disappeared and Captain America emerged and smiled to herself softly at how easy he had retreated back to his Avenger persona, as he effortlessly commanded the attention of the room.

“Okay so the ‘how’ works,” Steve began as he looked at the screens to his side, “now we gotta figure out the when and the where.” He glanced out at the room. “Almost all of us has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones.”

“Well I’d substitute the word encounter for damn well near been killed by one of the six Infinity Stones.” Tony shrugged, sipping his coffee as he walked in front of the displays, looking at the Avengers assembled in front of him.

“I haven’t.” Scott held his hand up. “I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about”

“Regardless, we only have enough Pym Particles for one round trip each.” Banner circled the table to the front of the room “And these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

“Our history.” Tony nodded, pacing as he talked. “So, not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in.”

“Which means we have to pick our targets.” Clint added as Tony passed by him.

“Correct.” Tony pointed to him with the hand holding his coffee cup.

“So, let’s start with the Aether.” Steve nodded, hands on his belt buckle as he stood in front of Banner and looked to the corner of the room. “Thor, whaddya know?”

Everyone turned their attention to the god. He was sat on a chair in the far right of the room with his sunglasses on, left hand resting on his belly which was exposed as his grubby top had ridden up slightly. He looked like an absolute hobo. Katie hated seeing him like this, but they needed him to pay attention and now, well he was making it impossible to tell whether he was awake or asleep. His lack of response, however, made Steve believe it was the latter. He drew in a frustrated breath as Natasha spoke, voicing his suspicions.

“Is he asleep?” She asked, pen clutched in her left hand. 

“No, I’m pretty sure he’s dead.” Rhodey deadpanned.

Katie sighed, drained the last of her coffee and stood up. She took a step forward and launched the empty cup at Thor. Her aim was impeccable as ever and it hit him softly in the middle of his forehead. Clint gave her a hi-five at her shot and Steve rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging on one corner of his mouth as Thor jerked awake.

“What?” he asked, looking around. “Yes, I, what was the question?”

“Infinity Stones, planning a huge mission.” Katie spoke slowly almost as if to a child. “We need to know what you know about the Aether.”

“Oh, yes, of course Little Stark.” Thor pushed himself up with a groan. Katie watched as he made his way unsteadily to the screens. Clint pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on and took up the empty seat between Rhodey and Natasha 

“Where to start? Umm,” Thor began, taking his glasses off and squinting at the light of the room, “the Aether, first, is not a stone, someone called it a stone before.” He pointed at Steve who frowned, puzzled, as Thor continued. “It’s more of a, err, an angry sludge thing, so…” he tipped his head back dropping eye drops into his left eye and pinched the bridge of his nose, “someone’s gonna need to amend that.”

Steve exchanged a glance with his wife at the same time Rhodey and Clint looked at one another. Was he drunk? Hungover? Both? The Captain frowned again as Thor continued, Tony stood not far from him, chewing on a plastic coffee stirrer, peering at Thor over his glasses.

“Here’s an interesting story though, many years ago my grandfather had to hide the stones from the Dark Elves…wooooh, scary beings.” Thor waggled his fingers to imitate a spooky ghost and Katie heard Rocket give out a little sigh from where he sat beside her, holding his paw up to his head, rubbing it slightly. She then looked at Nebula who was occupying the spot Clint had been in and the blue woman shrugged. “So Jane…” an image of the scientist popped up and Thor looked at it, grinning, “oh, there she is. That’s Jane. She’s an old flame of mine.” He pointed to the screen with his sunglasses “She, she stuck her hand inside a rock this one time and then the Aether stuck itself inside her.”

Now Steve was utterly confused and perplexed. He folded his arms and the crease between his brows deepened as he cocked his head slightly to the side as Thor continued to ramble on.

“And, she became very, very sick. So I had to take her to Asgard, which is where I’m from.”

Everyone in the room began to look around at one another in utter exasperation, all except Lang who was eagerly mopping up the information, smiling slightly and nodding.

“And we had to try and fix her. We were dating at the time, you see. I got to introduce her to my Mother, who’s dead,” at that point Thor’s face crumpled slightly and the God looked utterly broken. Banner began waving his hand across his throat signalling Tony to call time and Katie stood up from where she had been sat and headed towards him. “And oh you know, Jane and I aren’t even dating anymore, these things happen though you know, nothing last forever.”

“Why don’t you come and sit down?” Katie suggested to him gently, patting his chest as both her and Tony reached him, Tony gently pushing on his shoulder, guiding him back towards his chair.

“I’m not done yet,” Thor looked at the Stark siblings in turn as Rhodey and Clint shared another glance, Clint’s mouth hanging open in utter bewilderment, “the only thing permanent in life is impermanence.”

Tony clapped his hands together and nodded at the God. “Awesome.”

“Thank you.” Thor acknowledged.

“Eggs? Breakfast?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“No,” Thor chuckled, “I’d like a Bloody Mary.”

Steve exhaled, and rubbed at his brow. This was not how he wanted the day to start. He turned to the Raccoon, hoping that he would be more use. “Rocket, you mentioned something about the Aether the other night.”

“Yeah, when we knew Thanos was chasing it half my team headed to Knowhere, which is a place manned by an idiot called the Collector, at least it was.”

“I had my friends take it to the Collector once we had retrieved it back from Jane.” Thor cut in again as he slumped down in his chair, adding his first thing of real use to the conversation. “My friends, they’re all dead too.”

“So then surely going to Knowhere is our best bet?” Natasha added but Rocket shook his head.

“The Collector, when I call him an idiot, he is an idiot, but he’s also a crafty bastard. You’ll not get it from him without something to trade, unless you wanna go in for a full firefight. And you risk him tipping Thanos off in the process, and we don’t want him to know what we’re doing, regardless of what year it is when we do it.”

“No, we need to do this discreetly.” Steve agreed.

“Thor,” Katie spoke sternly and he looked at her, “how did you get the Aether out of Jane?”

Out of Jane…what the fuck?

“Malekith, he was the King of the Dark elves, he did it.” Thor shrugged. “Before we had a huge fight and he killed Loki. Or didn’t kill him, as it turns out. That was Thanos in the end.”

“That doesn’t sound like an option either.” Bruce shook his head.

“So then our logical opportunity is Asgard.” Katie looked around the room.  “Get the Aether out of Jane before this Dark Elf guy does?”

Steve positively beamed at her. She was fucking awesome at this type of stuff. Her brain was so logical, even when everyone else was frustrated she could see details incredibly, analyse and draw conclusions like no one he knew, not even Tony. She looked at him and flushed slightly, knowing full well what he was thinking, he’d told her enough and she gave a small shrug.

“So Asgard.” Tony nodded. “FRIDAY, capture that.”

“Got it.” She spoke, and by the picture of the stone the location flashed up.

“Thor, timescale?” Tony turned to him. But to no avail, he’d nodded off again. “Alright, we’ll come back to that when Sleeping Beauty is back with us.”

Knowing that was about as far as they were going to get on that particular stone for the time being, the team agreed it was a logical place to break for a coffee and breakfast and they all headed to the kitchen, Katie picking the kids up on the way. There was a selection of food already waiting, Tony (or Pepper, as the case really was) having re-stocked the kitchen fully for them, ordering in a large selection of pastries and donuts. Steve watched as Jamie settled in a seat between his Uncle and Natasha, happily munching on an apricot fruit whirl, chatting away. Emmy was talking to Bruce, no doubt about some other science project she was working on, whilst Katie leaned against the counter, picking off bits of a croissant as she poured out coffees for everyone. Except Thor that is, who true to his word, had sauntered in a few minutes after the rest of them with a Bloody Mary in his hands, Natasha narrowing her eyes and telling him he better not have used the good vodka. 

Steve had a suspicion there was more likely to be Asgardian Liquor in there than normal strength vodka.

They all ate, the mood slightly bolstered by the fact they were pretty much one down on the Infinity Stones, and Thor was even with it enough to give them an accurate time frame too. Something which set Steve at ease as he’d been a little edgy the God was going to lose it completely.

The rest of the day continued in that vain. The next stone they discussed was the Space Stone, or the Tesseract, which was very much Steve’s domain, although Thor- seemingly pepped up after his Bloody Mary- was able to give them a potted history of the item once Steve had explained his encounter with it and The Red Skull during the war.

“It was used by various ancient civilisations before coming into the Asgardians hands where it was kept in my father’s vault.” He spoke clearly. “He eventually brought it to Earth, don’t ask me why, and it was left in Tonsberg where it was guarded by devout worshippers.”

“SHIELD had it until the early nineties.” Katie then picked up as she knew this bit from the research she had done, digging into files and also from a download she had requested from Carol, the woman finally getting back to her late the previous evening. She moved her hand over her tablet and projected the information. “It was used and studied under ‘Project Pegasus’ until a lady called Mar Vel hid it in her laboratory. Then Danvers took full brunt of its power on an accident. But when Danvers found it again, it was given back to SHIELD and they had it right until it was given back to Thor, full circle.”

“And it stayed in Odin’s Vault until Loki stole it and brought it onto the Asgardian ship that Thanos took it from.” Bruce nodded.

“When he killed half my people.” Thor growled.

“So, is Asgard the best place to get that too?” Clint asked. “I mean we can’t get it from the ship?”

“Possibly.” Thor popped a shoulder as he scratched his head. “It would take some doing to get the Aether and the Tesseract and escape without trouble. It might be wise to consider an alternative time and location.”

“Preferably not New Mexico.” Clint mumbled, and Katie grinned at him.

Their discussions continued through the day, and when the evening light started to close in, Tony suggested a few hours down time before reconvening over dinner, which would allow Katie and Steve to settle the kids for the evening. Katie offered to cook again but Steve shook his head.

“No.” He refused, she’d been up all day, she’d made lunch, and he didn’t want her slipping into the routine of doing it all the time for the group, despite how much she said she enjoyed it. “You’ve done enough, we’ll sort the kids and get takeout, does that suit everyone?”

The group nodded eagerly and started to file out of the room.  Katie stood up and cricked her neck as Steve crossed to look at the screen, the image of the tesseract rotated in front of him on one, the image of the Valkyrie airship on the other. He let out a loud sigh. His initial idea had been to split the Avengers into smaller groups to retrieve the stones individually, but he was worried now. There didn’t seem like there was going to be any chance of getting some of them without a full fire fight, and there was no way they could do that apart. Katie, recognising the look on his face as he was agonising over his strategy, crossed the room and slipped her arms round his waist.

“It’ll work out.” She told him softly and he bent his head towards her so she could kiss his cheek. “This is why we’re here, remember? It’s what we do.”

Rhodey approached them to the other side of Steve. “Not meaning to eves drop but she’s right.” He smiled. “Might takes us a bit of time but we’ll come up with something, Cap.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve chewed the inside of his cheek, looking at the images on the screen.

“You got a lot of history with that thing.” Rhodey pondered thoughtfully as he nodded at the Tesseract.

“You’re not wrong.” Steve muttered. At one point it had felt like everything had centred on that damned cube.

“So you and this Red Skull, you fought him?” Rhodey asked.

Katie looked at him, frowning. “Do you not know the story about how my dad found it?”

Rhodey shrugged “Kinda, but there’s gaps.”

“Well me and the Howling Commandos systematically took Hydra down.” Steve spoke, his eyes not moving from the image. “But we never found Schmidt’s hideout. So we mounted an op to capture Armin Zola who told us where his final base was and all about his plan. So we stormed it, only Schmidt escaped. Which is how I ended up on the plane.”

“So what happened to the Tesseract then?” Rhodey asked, keen to fill the gaps in his knowledge.

“Ended up at the bottom of the ocean, which is where Howard found it. Fell out of the plane right before I had to crash it.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask, why did you have to crash the plane anyway?”

“There were bombs on board.” Steve answered.

“Bombs on board, right.” Rhodey turned back to the screen “And you couldn’t just jump out of the plane before it crashed?”

Before Steve could answer, Rhodey patted him on the shoulder.

“Hind-sight eh Cap?” And with that he turned to leave the room.

Steve looked at his wife who grinned at him. “Don’t.” He began with a sigh.

She laughed, her arms snaking round his neck. “If you had jumped off that plane, you wouldn’t have spent sixty-five years taking a cold nap and we would never have met. Maybe it was just fate.”

Steve groaned as his hands locked at the bottom of her back. “Fate, my ass. The damned thing was on auto-pilot, I had no choice. If I could have jumped, I would. I don’t believe in fate, you-“

“Make your own luck, yeah I know.” Katie smiled as he gave her a peck on the lips.

He shook his head, looked at the screen once more before he turned to Katie and took a breath. “Come on, let’s settle the kids for the night and then we can eat.”

****

“Okay, so,” Steve looked up, swallowing his mouthful of chow-mein, “we’ve looked at the Aether, the Space stone, how about the power stone? What do we know about this one?”

“Thanos employed Ronan the Accuser, a Kree warrior, to retrieve it for him only before he could obtain it, it was stolen by our friend. He intrusted it to the Nova Corps on Xandar for safe keeping.” Nebula spoke, Katie looking over to her.

“The what?” Natasha asked, furiously making notes as she ate.

“Nova Corps, they’re, or they were an Intergalactic Military and Police force of the Nova Empire.” Rocket added, looking around to see more blank faces “Seriously? You guys don’t know about them?”

“We’re not exactly versed on Cosmic Security forces, no.” Tony deadpanned, drawing a snort from Clint.

“Well I suppose it doesn’t matter really.” Rocket hopped up onto the table. “What matters is where we can get that stone.” he began pacing in front of everyone. “So Quill said he stole the Power Stone from Morag.”

“Quill, is that a place?” someone asked.

“Morag’s a planet. Quill was a person.” Rocket corrected.

“A planet? Like in outer space?” Scott swallowed, his eyes lighting up. Steve had to smile, Scott was still getting used to things that the other Avengers simply took for granted now. Other planets and aliens existed, it was fact to them. To Lang it was still astounding.  Rocket picked up on this fact and smirked.

“Oh, look. It’s like a little puppy, all happy and everything.” He bent over and ruffled Scott’s hair, and when he spoke again his voice made Katie snort, as it was one Steve often adopted when talking to Lucky. “Do you wanna go to space? You wanna go to space, puppy? I’ll get you to space.”

At that Tony’s voice cut sternly across the table.

“Hey Trash Panda, back on track, come on.” He clicked his fingers.

“Trash Panda?” Rocket looked at him indignantly as there were titters of laughter round the table. “Well that’s just fucking rude.”

Rocket went on to explain about the Battle of Xandar, whereby he and the other Guardians of the Galaxy managed to use the power stone between them to save the planet. It was when he mentioned jokingly something about a ‘dance off to save the universe’ that Katie noticed Tony stiffen. Without a word her brother stood up and walked to the doors that led to the small outside area. She gently squeezed Steve’s shoulder, he too noticing Tony’s exit, and wordlessly went after him.

“You okay Tone?” She asked, pulling the door closed behind her as she followed him out to the little patio area.

“Yeah, I just, well I heard that story before, from Quill, you know, about the dance off? It just reminded me of Parker that’s all.” He sighed, looking up at the sky. “He was teasing Quill about Footloose being a shit film and I just told him to shut up.” At that he fell silent and Katie looped her arm round his waist, his falling over her shoulder.

“You really cared about the kid didn’t you?”

Tony sighed, squeezing her shoulder. ”Yeah. I did.”

“We’re so close to doing it.” She looked at him. “So fucking close, Tone. And then you can tell him to his face.”

*****

From the other side of the window Steve watched the siblings as they shared a moment, Tony dropping a kiss to Katie’s head.

“They okay?” Natasha asked, drawing up to his side.

“Yeah, they’ll be fine.” Steve turned to her.

“I think we’re just about wrapped up.” Nat nodded her head to the table. “I think our best shot is to go to Morag and shadow this Quill to see where he found the stone.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds logical.”

He turned back to watch Tony and Katie who were now both looking up at the sky, Tony pointing at something, Katie giving a little laugh as she playfully gave him a dig with her elbow, causing Tony to laugh as well.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” Nat spoke again, and Steve looked at her. “Actually being back together, doing something.”

“I know these past five years have been shitty for you, Nat.” Steve said gently and she shrugged.

“It’s not all been bad. Seeing you and Katie bring up the kids has been kinda awesome.”

He smiled and pulled her into a hug. “You know, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

Nat smiled and then took a deep breath. “It’s getting late.”

Steve looked at his watch and blinked. It was almost midnight. He nodded.

“Okay, tell everyone to wrap up, we’ll reconvene in the morning, say eight-ish over breakfast?”

She nodded and walked back into the room she’d left before. Steve gently opened the door that led to the outside and both Katie and Tony turned to face him.

“We’re finishing up for the evening.” He smiled gently “Back to it tomorrow morning.”

Tony nodded and Katie gave him a last hug before she turned away and followed Steve inside.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked she stepped inside.

Katie nodded. “He was just having a moment, thinking about the Parker, that’s all. Then he got on some rambling story about stupid shit I used to say as a kid.” She took a deep breath as Steve slid his arm over her shoulder. “He was talking about how I once told him I was going to be an astronaut and fly amongst the stars. That’s why ‘Drops Of Jupiter’ will always be our song.”

“Well, you might not be an Astronaut, but you got up to space.” Steve pointed out and she gave a little laugh, before she sighed.

“Yeah, suppose I did.”

*****

"Is it weird to feel like I kinda miss this place a little bit?” Katie turned to look at Steve as he walked out of the en-suite in nothing but his boxers. “I mean, I know it’s not like we’ve never been back in here since we moved but still…”

“No, I don’t think so.” Stev shook his head, crossing the room towards where she was stood by the window. He wrapped his arms around her, dropping his chin to her shoulder. “This was our home for a while after all, sometimes I still miss DC, you know.”

“Yeah.” Katie turned in his arms. “Although I think I prefer our home now.”

He smiled and dropped a kiss to her lips. “My home is wherever you are baby" 

"That’s so lame!” Katie snorted.

“Hey.” Steve pouted, mock hurt flooding his face causing her to laugh even more.

“You wanna unpack, Soldier?” She asked, patting his chest, nodding to the case that lay at the foot of the bed.

“Tomorrow.” He mumbled, dropping his mouth to hers again, his hands sliding down her back until he gripped her ass and easily hauled her up against him. She giggled as she wrapped her legs round his waist, a sound he would never tire of hearing.

“You got other plans for me, Stevie?” She teased. Steve looked at his wife and with a quirk of his eyebrow he smirked as he carried her towards the bed.

"I distinctly remember you reminding me that this room is soundproof, and I intend on making the most of us not having to worry about disturbing the kids.”

He dropped her gently onto the soft mattress and she smiled at him, reaching up to brush back the longer locks of his hair that had fallen forward over his forehead, before her hand made it round to the back, tangling in the shorter ones at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to kiss her.

And that was it. Suddenly he was pulling the t-shirt off her, his mouth nipping and sucking at her bare chest as she writhed and keened underneath him. His hand worked into the waistband of the shorts she was wearing and she gasped as he slid his fingers into her.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much.” He sighed, making her groan again as he continued to tease her with his hand. Eventually she couldn’t take it anymore and she wriggled underneath him.

“You want something?” He asked and she raised her head, glowering at him.

“Steve if you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” He teased, his fingers curling against her spot and she gasped. “What you gonna do?”

“I’ll tell Jamie where you hide your stash of British Chocolate.” She looked at him and his hand paused.

“You wouldn’t!” His eyes widened, horrified at her threat.

“Oh I would.” She smirked.

“I don’t like being threatened,” his eyes darkened, “especially when it’s simply because you’re being a brat and not getting what you want.”

“Yeah?” She propped herself up on her elbows before she smirked and replayed his words right back to him. “What you gonna do?”

With a grin Steve sat up, grabbed her hips and flipped her over, lowering himself down again. He hovered over her, chest to his back, his mouth tracing a line down her spine as she continued to whimper. His lips formed a smirk against her skin and, as he reached the dip of spine he wriggled out of his boxers and grasped her hips, pulling her ass off the bed. He easily discarded her underwear, another pair he had shredded, but he didn’t give a fuck.

He positioned himself behind her, tip of his cock teasing her entrance. “This what you want?” He practically purred and she groaned.

“Yes, Jesus Christ! Just fuck me already, Steve!”

In a swift movement he buried himself in her and her face dropped to the pillow, muffling her moans.

“Not tonight, Kitten” he growled, as his hand reached out and gripped her hair and he pulled gently on her loose braid, so she was propped up on her elbows. “I told you, I wanna hear you.”

Katie bit her lip as he started moving, hard, fast, deep. Every thrust was rocking her very core and she was putty in his hands within minutes. His hips snapped back and forth, loud grunts and groans filled the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping on skin as he continued his ferocious pace, his hand on her shoulder pulling her back onto him with every thrust he made.

It was crude, coarse, animalistic, a far cry from their love making the night before but no less pleasurable for either of them.

Katie’s hands fisted into the sheets, her toes curling, her entire body trembling as the pleasure mounted, his cock brushing her walls. Tearing his eyes off the sight of his cock disappearing over and over again into her, Steve bent over her to nip at her neck, a little harder than usual, and he spoke into her ear with a growl. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

"So do you.” She moaned to him as he kept up his relentless pace, and she felt the release creeping up through her belly. “Shit, Captain…”

“Come for me, Doll.” Steve groaned and a loud cry ripped from her throat as her hands fisted tighter around the sheets and her entire body shook. Unable to control herself she collapsed and in a flash Steve curled his arm around her waist, holding her up. A few short thrusts later and he was done, giving into the ecstasy himself and he collapsed forward, letting Katie down as gently as he could before he face planted onto the bed, sweating and spent. Katie was led front down next to him, breathing deeply into her pillow. Eventually she mustered the strength to turn her head, only to see Steve led on his stomach, looking at her, a smug grin on his face.

“Fucking hell.” She mumbled and he laughed, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear.

****

“How long did you fight these guys?” Rocket asked, standing on his chair. They were watching footage of the Battle of New York, having started on the analysis of the Mind Stone. The obvious point, as Steve had said to Natasha the previous evening, had been the time in New York when both the Tesseract and Loki’s Sceptre were present. Katie looked at him across the table which was laden with half eaten bowls of eggs, bagels and a Bloody Mary for Thor.

“Oh I dunno, two, two or three hours.” Katie shrugged, glancing at Tony who was sat behind the animal, an electric razor in his hand as he trimmed his beard. He nodded his concurrence as did Natasha. 

“Hours?” The raccoon scoffed. “The Chitauri are the suckiest army in the galaxy, why didn’t you just blow up the mothership?”

A silence fell across the room and Katie exchanged a glance with Thor who looked at the Racoon, narrowing his eyes.

“We didn’t know that was a thing.” Steve muttered, somewhat lamely from his vantage point-stood behind his wife, arms folded across his grey Henley clad chest.  

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW THAT WAS A THING!” The raccoon bellowed and began to howl with laughter. Thor was still looking at him, now with the piece of celery from his drink held in his hand, almost like he was wielding his axe. Steve could tell he was debating throwing it at the animal and part of him really wanted the God to hit him right on the snout with it. The Soldier’s attention flitted to Tony who gave an angry, silent huff and stood up. He held a finger to his lips, telling Steve to keep quiet and he simply raised an eyebrow watching as his brother in law nonchalantly stepped over to the racoon who was still laughing 

“EVERYONE KNOWS…THAT’s A-” the gleeful gloating was cut off as Tony ran his razor straight up the racoon’s back, shaving a line into his fur.

Katie spat out the coffee she had been drinking, choking as Scott began howling with laugher. Banner’s roars filled the room and even Steve couldn’t help himself as he threw his head back in glee, clutching his chest as his laughter rang out. Natasha was snorting too and Thor pointed his celery stick at him.

“That serves you right, Rabbit.”

“That’s a shitty thing to do!” Rocket glared at Tony, who shrugged.

“Stop being an asshole then.” Tony shrugged simply, and the Raccoon sat down, arms folded. As they continued to discuss their plan for getting their hands on the sceptre, Katie couldn’t help but snigger as his paw kept straying to the naked line of skin which stretched up his back.

An hour later they were another stone down, and Steve was feeling bolstered. Tony took himself off to the lab, realising that they were making fast progress and he wanted to start working on their own gauntlet for when they brought the stones back, Thor going with him to advise as he explained the stones had to be in a certain order to harness their power correctly. Nobody bothered to tell the God they all had a picture of Thanos’ glove imprinted in their minds forever. 

The rest of them were sat on various sofas and chairs by the large windows as Nebula explained about the Soul Stone, telling them that Thanos found it on Vormir.

“What is Vormir?”  Natasha asked in a very business-like manner as she scribbled on a pad where she was sat on the arm of the sofa, feet on the cushioned seat. Katie was perched on the edge of the arm next to her, in an identical position almost, with her left arm gently looping round Steve’s right thigh, her hand coming to rest on the inside of his leg, just above his knee, her hand stayed still, relishing the feel of his solid muscle against her palm.

“A dominion of death, at the very centre of Celestial existence.” Nebula explained. Nat paused looking up as the woman’s voice grew sombre. Katie noticed she had tears in her eyes.  “It’s where Thanos murdered my sister.” 

Steve looked down, arms folded, as an awkward silence fell on the room. Katie exchanged a glance with Natasha, then Clint, no one knowing what to say. Steve took a deep breath, Nat began scribbling again.

“Not it.” Scott muttered.

Steve let out an exasperated breath and glared at him.

“What?” Scott asked, innocently

They broke then for lunch. Once they had eaten, Steve took a break, taking Jamie and Emmy outside to play a bit of ball as their son was growing restless. Katie knew it wasn’t easy for him to relinquish control but she encouraged him to take a bit of time with the kids, Clint and Rhodey joining in so they could form teams. Thor disappeared off with Rocket and Nebula somewhere, most likely to raid the booze cabinet, whilst Katie, Tony, Nat and Banner continued their brainstorming. 

The siblings lay on the large table, surrounded by papers and books they’d been making notes in, Natasha lounging in a chair whilst Bruce lay on the floor. 

“That Time Stone guy.” Nat spoke, tapping a pen against her teeth.

“Doctor Strange.” Bruce offered his name up.

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he?”

“Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit from a hat.” Tony quipped, making Katie snort as she looked up at the ceiling.  

“Nice place in the village, though.” Banner mused.

“Yeah. Sullivan Street?” Tony asked, his hand pinching his nose as he tried to think of the address.

“Bleecker.” Banner corrected.

Suddenly something in Katie’s mind clicked and she sat up slightly. “Wait, he lived in New York?”

“No. He lived in Toronto.” Tony groaned sarcastically and Katie dug him harshly with her elbow. “Yes, he lived in New York.”

Katie looked at Natasha as she sat bolt upright, understanding immediately.

“Guys, if you pick the right year, there are three stones in New York.” Nat pointed out what Katie had seen.

Tony paused, before he tilted his head to look at his sister who raised an eyebrow grinning at him, as Bruce sat up suddenly in surprise. 

“Shut the front door!” Banner looked around at Natasha, then Katie.

“Three stones, one bird.” Natasha quipped, smirking. 

*****

Steve felt the familiar bristle of adrenaline as he looked at the holograms which were displaying the different locations and dates. His eyes not leaving the displays for a second, he spoke clearly and confidently “All right. We have a plan.” He walked up towards the screens. “Six Stones, three teams. One shot.”

The other Avengers gathered behind their Captain as they all either rose from their seats or stepped forward from where they had been stood, staring at the screens, the determination seeping from every single one of them hovered in the air which was practically crackling with anticipation.  

Katie slipped her hand into Steve’s and he looked round at them all.

“Get some rest, we’ll reconvene first thing in the morning to make the final preparations. We go first light the morning after.”

The team all began to excitedly chatter and move about and Tony stopped, turning to Katie and Steve.

“We’ll take the kids up to the house tomorrow afternoon.” He nodded “I know we’ll only be gone for seconds but…”

Both Katie and Steve agreed, neither of them wanted them around whilst the Stones were at the compound.

“They can stay there until we’ve done the, reverse snap, the ‘pans…’” He quipped, saying the word backwards and Steve rolled his eyes.

*****

Katie had tears in her eyes when she bid the kids and Lucky goodbye the next afternoon, but she had to laugh when Jamie showed her the huge bag of M&Ms Natasha had sent him off with, along with a kiss and a cuddle from his favourite Aunt to keep him going until she saw him next time. She’d also slipped Emmy a crisp twenty instructing her to spend it when Pepper took them into the small village near where they lived to visit the Art Store the Teenager loved so much.

Steve eventually managed to steer Katie out of Pepper and Tony’s house, back to the car, Tony lingering slightly longer to say goodbye to Pepper. The drive home was almost completely silent, the three of them lost in their thoughts. They hadn’t been on a mission together with the full original team in over seven years. It felt odd, yet strangely familiar. 

After a final bit of prep, Katie trying on her cat-suit, surprised to see it actually fit, they collapsed into bed, although neither of them could sleep. Katie turned over, scooting closer to Steve as she lay her head on his chest, her mind churning. Over the mission, over the stones, over the kids. Steve let out a sigh and kissed her head.

“I know you’re nervous…” 

“I’m not nervous.” Katie shook her head against his chest. “Steve, I’m terrified.”

Steve closed his eyes and sighed, whilst the last five years had overall been kind to him and his family, he was desperate to bring everyone back. Not just for himself, but for the entire world, universe even. He hated failure, hated feeling like they could have done more. And this time tomorrow they’d know one way or another whether they truly had one final shot at undoing it all. 

And if not, well, the last five years were about to become their forever reality, and it really would be time to quit. 

*** Chapter 54

 **Original Posting**

[hawkbucks]

@endrega23​ here’s your WinterHawk request! Hope it’s alright. I’ll get to your WinterIron request when I get the chance! 

5. “Can I pet your dog?” “Do I know you?” 

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Clint is watching fondly as Lucky works on scarfing down the hot dogs that the ever generous Hot Dog Woman (he really needs to learn her name) gives Lucky every time they pass by her cart. 

He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns, fully expecting Natasha to be there, ready to rag on him for sitting in Central Park all on his lonesome, only to see some guy with shaggy brown hair and the most intense pair of eyes he’s ever seen. The guy’s handsome, he’ll admit, but he also looks like he’s about to ask Clint for some money and he’s only really got a few quarters in his pocket and--

“Can I pet your dog?” the guy asks, gesturing at Lucky. Lucky immediately breaks into a toothy grin at the mention of pets and quickly eats the rest of the hot dogs before straightening his back, tail wagging wildly behind him. 

“Do I know you?” Not that people haven’t approached Clint asking to pet Lucky before, but it seems like a reasonable response... or, rather, it’s what came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 

“My name’s James, but my friends call me Bucky. Now you know me. Can I pet your dog?” 

Lucky barks then whines, tilting his head to the side and sending Clint a pleading look. 

This Bucky guy is nothing if not determined, and Clint can’t say he doesn’t respect that. He shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, yeah? His name’s Lucky, but be careful ‘cause he--” 

Bucky calls Lucky and is immediately bowled over by 65 pounds of excited dog, yelling in surprise as he goes down. 

“--really likes pouncing on people. Dude, you should’ve let me finish.” Clint puts his hands on his hips. “Lucky, off!” 

Lucky gets off of Bucky, quietly huffing, and sits on his haunches. 

Bucky sits up, slobber visible on his cheeks. He wipes it off with the sleeves of his sweater. There’s a leaf stuck in his hair, and Clint doesn’t know if he should tell him about it. “Wouldn’t have been the worst way to go.” Lucky insistently pats Bucky’s shoulder with his paw and gets rewarded with a few scratches behind his ear. 

“Cutest way to die for sure. Also, you’ve got a leaf in your hair. And, uh, sorry for Lucky. He’s easily exciteable.” He shakes his head. “My name’s Clint, by the way.”

“If you wanna make it up to me--” Bucky takes the leaf out of his hair, grimacing as he does so, and flicks it away; Lucky snaps at it-- “you could always let me take you out to lunch, Clint.” 

Clint stares at Bucky, dumbfounded. “Was asking me to pet my dog your sly way of asking me out?” 

“No. I really did want to pet your dog. What breed is he?”

“Labrador retriever.” 

“See. Those are cute dogs.” Bucky faces Lucky. “You’re cute, aren’t you?” he coos. Lucky’s grin stretches wider, his tail thumping on the ground. “And you--” now he’s looking back at Clint-- “are cute, too. You don’t gotta say yes. M’not trying to pressure you into anything, but what do you say?” 

“I’ve got no plans so, eh, why not. There’s a cafe around here that’s dog-friendly and not to brag, but I know the owner, so she might cut us a deal. Lucky likes her because she gives him pizza.” 

“I’m always down for dogs and discounts.” Bucky stops petting Lucky to get up on his feet. He brushes off his pants, laughing when Lucky gets up on his hind legs and sets his front paws on Bucky’s stomach, begging for more scritches. “Whenever you’re ready, Clint.” Bucky smiles, and goddamn, that’s a nice smile. 

“More than ready.” When they get home, Clint resolves that he’ll feed Lucky a couple of extra treats as thanks for introducing him to Bucky. 

[dontcare77ghj]

Domestic

Farm House sequel

Natasha x reader x Clint

It was a peaceful morning, though it was nearly noon. The sun had long ago risen, and its beams had brightened the bedroom hours ago. Waking up was a difficult process, you were surrounded by warmth that almost beckoned you to fall back asleep. Opening your eyes, you were met with a naked chest in front of you, shifting your head you saw Clint’s still asleep peaceful face.

Turning slightly, you could see Natasha too was still sleeping. Her hair was falling over her relaxed face, a gentle smile adorned her face. Smiling at the two you relaxed back into their grasp with a content sigh. The three of you had been home for almost two weeks. After the whole Ultron dilemma Natasha and lint had decided to go on leave for a while.

With the instructions not to bother the three of you unless the world was ending, the three of you had enjoyed the time you finally got together. The two never told the team when to expect them back but it was a good guess they wouldn’t be back for a long while.

But Natasha and Clint didn’t care. They deserved this break and they were going to have it.

“I can hear you thinking.” Clint murmured, startling you out of your thoughts. Clint’s bleary eyes were attempting to focus on you as he ran his fingers through your locks. “Go back to sleep, Y/N.”

“It’s already noon, Clint.” You said, leaning into his touch. “We have to get up at some point.”

“But we have nowhere to be and nothing to do today.” Natasha spoke causing you to jump.  “So, we don’t have to get up at all.” She explained with a smile.

“Your right.” You said, leaning back into Natasha’s chest. “It feels good to not have to get up.”

“Well get used to it.” Clint said, throwing his arm over the two of you. “We have plenty of time to do absolutely nothing.”

“I like the sound of that.” You replied. The three of you continued talking softly, no-one making the move to get up, and before you knew it you all drifted back off to sleep.

“No, no, no, no. Stop that.” Clint said, taking the bowl away from you. “Your going to ruin it.”

“Your going to ruin it.” You repeated, trying to take the bowl back. Clint smiled and held the bowl higher over his head.

“You can’t add vodka to the brownie mixture.” He sighed, moving further away from you. “That’s not in the recipe.” In hindsight Natasha should have known better to go into town and leave you and Clint alone. The two of you had gotten bored and there was absolutely nothing else to do so you’d decided to make brownies.

While baking Clint had the genius idea to pour a glass or two of vodka, this led to your brilliant idea to add vodka to the brownies.

“If it’s in the mix, it’s in the recipe.” You said, levitating the mixture away from Clint’s hands. “At least that’s how it works in my head.”

“No powers in the kitchen.” Clint whined, giving you a pout. “The brownies don’t need vodka, don’t ruin a perfectly good brownie.”

“How about we make two boxes, one fun mix with vodka and one regular, less exciting, straight from the recipe mix?” You suggested, placing your bowl on the counter. Clint stared at you for a moment before nodding his consent.

“I can live with that. More brownies.” He said, pulling the other mix out of the cupboard.

“Oh Lucky, move bud.” You exclaimed, almost tripping over the one-eyed dog. Lucky continued to follow you, repeatedly moving under your feet. “Clint control your dog.” You ordered, placing the items in your hands on the counter.

“He’s not my dog, he’s our dog.” He said, turning to you with a smile. “Can you grab me the flour?” He asked, turning back to his bowl.

“Of course.” You replied, moving over to the pantry. Grabbing the item, he needed, you walked back into the kitchen only to trip over the golden retriever. The bag of flour flew out of your hand and landed on Clint’s head, covering him from head to toe.

“Babe!” He exclaimed in shock. You covered your mouth and tried to hold in the giggles threatening to escape your mouth. Eventually you couldn’t hold them in and began to giggle uncontrollably.

“Sorry, sweetie.” You laughed, wiping tears from your eyes. Clint narrowed his blue eyes at you before giving you a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Of course, you are. Babe you have something on your face.” Clint said, pointing to your face. He quickly grabbed his brownie mix and rushed towards you and dumped the mixture on your head.

“Clint!” You shrieked, trying to pull away from the man. He held you tighter in his arms. Using your powers, you made eggs begin to pelt him in the back.

“No powers in the kitchen.” He yelled, using the empty bowl to protect himself. Grabbing the carton of milk, he hurled the liquid at you. Milk dripped from your face and chocolate batter off your head. Eggs continued to pelt Clint and flour flung around as he moved. Lucky ran around the kitchen barking as he watched the two of you.

“Just because you don’t have any powers to use.” You snarked, throwing flour in his face.

“That’s it.” Clint said, grabbing you by the waist. He lifted you off the ground and threw you over his shoulder causing you to let out a squeal. Eggs stopped pelting Clint as you struggled in his hold.

“Clint, no!”

“I was only gone for an hour.” Natasha said from the doorway, making her presence known. “How the hell did you two cause all this?”

“Tash!” You both exclaimed in surprise.

“How long have you been standing there?” You asked, still hanging over Clint’s shoulder.

“More than long enough.” She answered, moving into the kitchen. “Why do you have another bowl of brownie mix?” She asked, moving over to the counter.

“We wanted to make a normal batch and a vodka batch.” Clint explained, readjusting his grip on you.

“A vodka brownie. That would’ve been a great treat.” She said, picking up the bowl and dipping her finger in it. She let out a groan as she tasted it before smiling at you both. “It’s a shame it had to be spilled.” She added, flinging the mixture on you both.

The two of you stared wide eyed at the woman before Clint put you back on your feet. He gave you a mischievous smile and grabbed your hand.

“Y/N, what kind of husband or wife are we if we don’t hug our other wife when she comes home?” Clint asked, turning to you.

“Horrible partners we are Clint.” You said with a smirk, before you both turned back to face the red head. The two of you gave the woman no warning before tackling her to the ground, arms wrapped tightly around her and each other.

“Gross.” Natasha scowled, mock glaring at the two of you. Natasha kissed you first before doing the same to Clint. “Though that tastes nice.” She commented with a smile. The three of you laid together on the ground, Lucky behind you eating the egg off the floor, for a long time before Natasha tapped you both on the thigh and sat up. “You two are cleaning this up.”

With a groan the three of you got off the ground and surveyed the kitchen as you stood.

“Oh Thor, help us.” You sighed, leaving to grab the mop.

“No Lucky, don’t eat that!”

“I found it!” You cheered, placing the album on the table. Natasha eagerly reached for the album as you climbed into the blanket with her. The two had been home for a month and a half now yours had been filled with laughter, love and enjoying the time you had together.

Clint had gone into town to pick up a few supplies as well as some things for a new project he wanted to start. He’d been gone for a couple of hours and you and Natasha had decided to look through some old photos. Photos from when you just started dating, your wedding day and some that were taken a bit more recently.

“Oh look, it’s when Clint brought Lucky home.” Natasha cooed, scratching the mutt on the head.

“You had us from day one, Pizza Dog.” You said, playing with his paw.

“Speaking of, do you think picked one up?” Natasha asked with a groan. “Should I text him?”

“He’s probably already on his way back.” You said, curling into her side. “Besides it’s Clint, he’s at least bought at least three.” You added with a smile.

“Fair point.” She said, wrapping her arm around you and continuing to flip through the album. “Look it’s when we went to Disney land.”

“That was a good day, though please for me, never dye your hair black and never let Clint dye his red.” You begged, cringing slightly at the photo.

“It was only to keep our covers.” She assured, rubbing your arm.

“Good because I love your hair like this.” You said, running your fingers through the curly red locks.

“Well I love you.” She sweetly said, kissing you on the lips.

“Love you too.” You responded as Lucky began to bark. “Clint’s home.” You commented, Lucky barreling off the bed to greet the man. A quiet bark caused you and Natasha to tilt you head. “Lucky?” You called questioningly.

“Clint, what did you do?” Natasha asked, putting the album to the side. You both made to get out of bed only to freeze as Lucky and Clint walked in, Clint holding a tiny beagle in his arms. “Clint what the hell?” Natasha sighed, staring down at the man.

“I can explain I swear.” Clint said, a guilty look adorning his face. “He was all alone in an alley and these kids were kicking him around. He won’t cause any problems, he’s so sweet and look Lucky likes him.”

“Clint, breath.” You said, interrupting the rambling man. “Bring him over to the bed.” You added, gesturing him over. Clint slowly walked over to bed, puppy excitedly looking around, and passed the little dog to you. “Hi there little guy.” You cooed, raising the pup closer to your face.

“He is cute.” Natasha admitted, scratching him behind the ears. “We still have Lucky’s old bed in the attic right?” She asked, turning to you.

“He doesn’t need a bed, he can stay right here with us.” You said, more to the beagle than Natasha.

“Y/N you know we cant have a puppy in bed. We’re not supposed to coddle them.” She sighed, shaking her head at you.

“Wait, so your not mad?” Clint asked with wide eyes.

“Oh no, your sleeping on the couch.” Natasha said, turning to the man. “I’ve told you to stop bringing strays home.”

“But he’s so sweet.” He attempted to defend himself. “How can you be mad I bought him home?”

“Milo. His name is Milo.” You interrupted, not taking your eyes off Milo who was playing with Lucky.

“Really, Milo?” Clint asked, scrunching his nose at the name.

“If you want any hope of staying in this bed tonight, you won’t say anything about his name.” You warned, narrowing your eyes at the man. Natasha smirked as Clint raised his hands in surrender. 

“Milo it is.” He chirped, jumping off the bed. “Because you two are the best wives a man could ask for and so accepting no matter what I do, I got you lunch.” He said, beginning to leave the room.

“It better be pizza, Clinton.” 

“Of course it is, what kind of a person do you think I am? Pizza and the coffee you both like.”

“You’re back in the bed tonight.” Natasha said causing the man to cheer slightly. Clint was balancing the boxes of pizza and tray on top of each other as he came back into the room. He stopped in the doorway to smile at the sight of his favorite people.

The two of you were curled into each other playing with the two dogs, both of whom were fascinated by the shine of your diamond skin, smiling so brightly he was nearly blinded and not because of the light bouncing off your skin. 

Watching Natasha finally be able to relax and be at ease in her environment was always a welcome sight and seeing you comfortable in your skin, in all it’s many forms, made his heart melt. This was definitely where he felt at ease.

This was home and he was sure glad to be here. Maybe they’d have to extend their holiday a little more. 

Leave feedback. Leave a comment (Love those). Give it a like. Reblog it. Share with your friends. Buy me a KO-FI. 

Guys if you have a coupling or idea you really want to see. Inbox or message me.

Coming soon;

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Steve x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Steve

Clint x reader x Sam

Wanda x reader x Natasha

Sam x reader x Bucky x Steve

Previous work: Bed

[avengerscompound]

Looking Up

Looking Up: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Reader (kinda)

Word Count:  1539

Warnings:  action, canon-typical violence, Clint’s naked and a very proud boyfriend.

Synopsis:  Clint’s day was looking up. His girlfriend slept over for the first time. He’s pretty sure she’s a Jedi. He was having a nice bath. So how is it he’s now running down the street naked from gunmen?

Looking Up

Clint wasn’t exactly sure how things had gone this wrong, but to be fair he was never particularly sure how things ended up the way they did.  It was like he was a magnet for the most embarrassing possible things to happen to people.  You never heard stories about Iron Man getting ambushed while he was in the tub and having to jump out of his window into the dumpster below.  No one ever told stories of Captain America running down the street naked pursued by goons with guns.

Yet here he was running down the street, stark naked covered in trash being pursued by a group of armed thugs.  What made matters worse, he kept passing people and not one of them ever did anything to help.  After all the shit Clint had done for this city he would have hoped that someone, anyone, would do something to help him.  Instead, people just pulled out their cameras and started to film.

“No, please.  Go ahead.”  He yelled as he passed a group of giggling girls standing on the street corner filming as he ran past.  “Make sure you get my good side.  I’m fine by the way.  This is totally normal.”

“Get back here, archer dude!”  One of the thugs tailing him yelled out.

God, not even the hitman sent to kill him knew his call sign.  What was the fucking point?

Today had started so great too.  He had a new girlfriend.  You’d slept over for the first time.  He was pretty sure you were some kind of Jedi even though you kept saying you weren’t, and quite frankly even if that’s not what you were, the powers were the same and that was pretty awesome in his book.  You’d made him coffee and pancakes and bought them to him in bed before you’d headed home.  It was pretty a really great start to the day.

Then when he’d finally gotten up to take a bath, eight dudes had busted in his front door and started to shoot up the place.  He didn’t even have time to grab his bow.  Just his hearing aids off the sink and Lucky, who had landed on top of him when he’d landed in the dumpster, and was now on his heels barking at everyone, completely clean.  Meanwhile, Clint was streaking down Van Buren covered in trash and hoping he’d manage to get to your place without getting shot or stepping in something.

Well, there went that second one.  “What even was that?”  He said looking back over his shoulder to try and glimpse what he had stepped in while he did an awkward hop, run stagger move.  He was pretty sure he’d stepped in dog shit, but the loud bang and subsequent bullet whizzing past his head made him remember there were slightly more pressing matters.

“Shit.  Fuck.  People trying to kill me.  Forgot.”  He cursed as he started running flat out again.

He could see your building up ahead and he doubled down, sprinting as fast as his legs could carrying him, weaving in and out of the onlookers who were all still filming.  “Get inside you idiots, they’re shooting!”  He yelled.  Not that he was exactly sure why he’d warn them.  They weren’t exactly doing him any favors.  He was pretty sure his junk was already on Perez Hilton’s site with some dumbass speech bubble caption with a pun involving birds and peckers.  Probably they’d have his name listed as Hawkguy or something.

He made it to your door and pressed your buzzer.  “Come on, come on, come on.”  He muttered as he scraped his foot on the doormat.  It was dog shit.

In the only god damned stroke of luck, he’d had so far you picked up quickly.  “Hello?”  You said, your voice coming through the intercom crackly and far off.

“Hey, babe.  Could you maybe, let me up?”  There was another bang and a piece of brick exploded on the corner of the entryway.  “Now?”

He thanked the god of awesome girlfriends that instead of questioning him, you just hit the buzzer to let him inside.  He rushed through the security door and shoved it closed as the guys ran around the corner, giving them the finger through the thick security door as they fired at the door handle.

You were on the fourth floor and rather than waste time in the elevator he took the stairs, dashing up three at a time and bursting into the hallway.  You had already come to your door and were standing there waiting for him looking bewildered.  Lucky ran to you, jumping up, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his tail wagging so fast it was just a blur.  “Hey, buddy.”  You said ruffling his fur before looking up at Clint.  “What’s going on?  Where are your clothes?”

“At home.  I - there was - ah futz.”  He muttered.  “I need you to do your Jedi trick on the guys downstairs.  Kinda now.  They’re trying to kill me.”

“I’m not a Jedi, Clint.  How many times?”  You said rolling your eyes.  “Turning themselves in?”

“Yes, please.”  He said coming over and kissing your cheek.

“Ugh, don’t kiss me.  You stink.”  You said, wrinkling your nose.  “Go inside.  I’ll take care of it.”

Clint went into your apartment and straight to your window, opening it and peering down onto the street below.  He could see the guys below gathered around the entry.  Only five of them were visible, so he assumed that the other three were either attempting to break in, or get someone to let them in.  Or both.  Probably both.

“God, they aren’t smart are they?”  He said to Lucky who had his paws up on the windowsill beside him.  The one-eyed dog wagged his tail and licked Clint’s face.

A moment later the group were all backing up into the street.  Clint turned his hearing aids up.  “Alright, see we’re back.  We just got some questions okay?”  One of the guys said.  You appeared in the street and glanced up.

“Aww, she’s putting on a show,”  Clint said, ruffling Lucky’s fur.  “Don’t tell her I said this but I think I’m falling in love with her you know?”

Lucky barked and wagged his tail faster.

“I think you should all put your guns down on the ground.”  You said waving your hand.  Your voice was raised a little, Clint assumed so he might have a better chance at hearing what was going on.

The eight men all started pulling guns out of pockets and holsters and the waistbands of their pants and putting them on the ground.  You made a gesture with your hands like you were lifting something and the guns all floated into the sky.  You then twisted your wrists and the guns fell apart and clattered to the ground.  The men backed up a little and you thrust your hand forward and made a fist.  “Uh-uh.  Not so fast.”  You shouted.  “You’re going to go to the police department and turn yourself in.  You’re going to confess to them everything you’ve ever done wrong in your lives, starting with the worst.  Then you’re going to snitch on every bad guy you know and not ask for any kind of deal.  Understood?”

The men all nodded their heads, though the fact you were holding them in place stopped them from acting on your instructions.  “Holy shit.”  Clint giggled.

“One last thing.  You’re going to take off all your clothes and walk to the station naked.”  You added releasing them from the force that had been holding them still.

They seemed frozen in place for a second and you waved your hand.  “Hurry up.”

The men all started to strip off as you stood in the street watching them.  Clint looked at Lucky, back down at you and at Lucky again.  “Yeah.  I’m done for.”  He said.

As the men started wandering down the street in the direction of the police station, cop cars began pulling up and surrounding them.  You had already disappeared inside and a few minutes later the front door opened.  Clint grinned at you and skipped over.  “Oh my god.  You are the best Jedi I have ever seen.”

“I’m not a Jedi.  Midichlorians would have been way less painful than what really caused these powers.”  You said.

“Don’t bring up Midichlorians.”  He said and leaned in to kiss you.  He was stopped by an invisible barrier you put up.

“No kissing you stink.  And you’re still naked. Go get in the shower.”  You said.

“Fine,”  Clint said with a smirk.  “Maybe… shower with me?”

You turned him around and pushed him in the direction of your bathroom.  “Get the garbage smell off you first.  Then I’ll join you.”

“Deal.”  He said and started moving on his own.  He stopped and turned back.  “Oh um… you think I can stay with you for a little while?  They shot up my place.”

You shook your head.  “Only you, huh, Clint?”

“Yeah,”  He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

“Alright.  But shower.  Now.”  You said.

Clint grinned and skipped off to the shower.  Maybe today was going to be alright after all.

[banashee]

 Love comes on two and four legs

 Bucky curses up a blue storm as he realizes he’s forgotten his umbrella at the therapist’s office - again. He knows he’s had the last appointment of the day though, so they’re likely closed by now, and besides, he is already halfway home. There is no use in going back now when he’ll be back again on Friday.

 In a vain attempt to stay somewhat dry, he pulls the collar of his leather jacket as high as he possibly can, hurrying through the streets of New York in pouring rain. No one looks at him twice, which is a relief. He’s still kinda new to this civilian kind of lifestyle and when he’d first started therapy, he’d been an anxious wreck. Always feeling watched, uncomfortable in his own skin to the point where he’d refused to leave the flat on his own.

 It’s been two years since then, and while there still is a lifetime of trauma to work through and he’s having his fair share of bad days, there is no denying that Bucky is generally happy these days.

 Deep thunder rumbles in the sky, and the raindrops only get thicker - Bucky is almost running, but he is long since soaking wet.

 “Seriously Thor, now? You couldn’t have waited for like 30 minutes or so?” he complains under his breath as another thunder rumbles. Then he takes a sharp corner and hurries past an alleyway.

 Or at least, he wants to hurry, but then he picks up a small noise and stops in his tracks.

 There it is again. A small, high pitched whine, coming from a dumpster.

 Bucky frowns, stepping closer. When he opens the lid and the stench of New York garbage creeps up into his nostrils, but the meowing gets louder.

 A second later, Bucky is ripping open the plastic bag where the noise is coming from and then, a tiny, dirty ball of fur looks up at him with large blue eyes. It just about breaks his heart. Carefully, Bucky reaches out and picks the kitten up into his arms.

 “Oh, sweetheart. Who did this to you?”

 Another, pitiful meow is the answer. When Bucky runs one finger of his flesh hand softly over the kittens head, it starts purring immediately.

 “You’re coming home with me.” he decides, and wraps his new little friend into his leather jacket - suddenly, getting soaked through doesn’t look as bad anymore.

 The rest of the way is wet and cold, but there is a purring ball of fur snuggled up against his chest and Bucky knows the kitten already stole his heart. Huh. So this is what it must be like to be Clint - he’ll give him so much shit for this, after years of Bucky accepting his tendency to pick up any animal that is abandoned or lost that crosses his way. Which is a lot.

 But Clint is unable to leave anything to suffer without at least trying to help, and as much as Bucky teases him for turning their apartment into a foster home for strays on a regular basis, he loves him for it. He loves him for it because it shows how much he cares.

 And now he’s picked up a stray of his own.

 When Bucky opens the door to their apartment he does so with one hand and calls,

 “Darling, I’m home!”

 A blond head peaks up from behind a huge coffee pot.

 “Hey Baby!”

 Clint gets up from his spot on the breakfast bar and crosses the room to greet his boyfriend. He stops right before he goes for a hug and just pecks him on the lips before asking,

 “What’cha got there?” while gesturing to the bundled up leather jacket in his arms.

 As if on cue, the white kitten wiggles it’s head out and meows again.

 “Found her - him? - I’ll go with ‘her’ for now - in a dumpster. Poor thing was screaming her head off in a plastic bag.” Bucky explains, and Clint carefully  reaches out, letting the kitten sniff his hand before gently petting it.

 “Poor baby. Who’s the bastard who did this to you, huh? I just want to talk.” he asks the kitten and once again, it’s purring under the touch. Clint smiles fondly. He’s always had a knack for picking up strays, and it sure looks like he’s finally rubbed off on Bucky.

 It’s not like Bucky would be anything but wonderful and supportive. He helps to take care of the little and not-so-little critters, stays up all night if needed and he will make runs to the vet and to get supplies without getting told or a single word of complaint. He’ll happily do all that and much more, but until now, it’s always been Clint who turned up home with a creature in need. Dogs, cats, birds. One one occasion, even a ferret, which was quickly picked up by his very grateful owner.

 Besides seething anger towards the people who are cruel enough to abuse and abandon animals and rapidly building up love for the kitten, this whole situation leaves Clint quietly gleeful. Oh, how the tables have turned.

 “We still have kitten formula in the kitchen, do we?” Bucky asks, scratching the fluffy chin and smiles when kitty leans into his touch.

 “Always.”

 They’re well stocked up on animal supplies, prepared for unexpected fluffy or feathery visitors any time of the day.

 “Wanna go change while the water heats up?”

 Bucky has no idea how long the cat was left in that alleyway, but he’s sure she must be starving. So he shakes his head.

 “I’m good for now.”

 The milk is prepared in no time, and Bucky feeds it to her with a small syringe and special nips just for this purpose.

 He’s always been fond of animals, and living with Clint and Lucky certainly has gotten him used to being surrounded by them. But right at this moment, something fierce and protective is burning in his chest. As the white, fluffy ball of fur is hungrily drinking the offered milk, mewling a little every now and then, and Bucky just knows he’s done for.

 He’s had this cat for not even an hour, and he already knows he’d willingly kill and die for her - Clint looks at him, with a small smile and so much love, he clearly knows what Bucky is thinking right at this moment.

 After all, Clint himself had beat up a bunch of assholes and then paid a fortune at the vet when he rescued Lucky from the very same asses he’d kicked that day.

 No words are needed, but when the kitten is no longer hungry and Bucky is stroking her fur with so much care and a happy little smile, he takes a good look at him and another one at the cat.

 Bucky looks soaked and cold, and he should have gotten out of his clothes much sooner. The cat, although dry, has dark spots caked in her fur. It’s a very sorry sight, the two of them.

 Clint runs one gentle hand through his boyfriends long dark hair and his fingertips over the kittens head. He decides to break up this cozy round before all of them fall asleep right on the spot.

 “Okay, I think Kitty here needs a bath and so do you.”

 Bathing is not exactly the kittens favourite activity. She voices her disapproval with constant tiny meows while Bucky keeps apologizing over and over, reassuring the cat that it’s all for the best.

 They seem to have come to a mutual understanding once she’s clean and wrapped into a fluffy towel. It’s been warmed up on the heater, and the sound of content purring keeps Bucky company while he steps into the shower himself.

 When washing his hair with a conditioner, he can make out the sound of the doorbell going off, quickly followed by excited barking, a female voice and laughter. All of this can only mean one thing - Kate is here and she brought Lucky back.

 Both of these things are great news, and by the time both Bucky and the cat leave the bathroom, she’s already sprawled on the armchair with her legs hanging over one side. She’s gesturing with her hand holding a mug of coffee while Clint nods along to her story, attention half on her and half on Lucky who demands belly scratches from him.

 “Katie!” With a wide grin, Bucky reaches down to ruffle her hair. She hates this particular move. Most people would lose a finger for attempting this, but Kate loves Bucky and always lets him get away with it. So naturally, he does it whenever he gets the chance.

 “Robocop!” Kate exclaims happily, catches his arm and pulls him down for a hug. Bucky needs to angle his body so the bundled up cat cradled in his other arm doesn’t get crowded.

 “Good to see you. And careful there, we’ve got a visitor.”

 The cat chirps at that, like she’s trying to say, “Hi, yes, I’m here!” and Kate scoots closer to take a look.

 “Hello tiny one. Who are you?” Kate coos at the kitten, gently reaching out. Cautiously at yet another new human, the cat sniffs at her hand, then accepting Kate petting her.

 About a minute later, three grown adults and one large dog are sprawled across the living room floor as they watch the kitten slowly emerge from the towels and start exploring her new environment.

 Lucky seems to be interested, but remains calm. He is long used to meeting other animals, and so far, he has been gentle and well behaved with all of them. As time goes on, the kitten gets a little braver and walks straight up to the dog.

 Lucky is crouched down to the floor with his front paws, back legs propped up and tail wagging. As the cat walks up to him, the message “come on, let’s play!” is written all over his face and he boops her with his nose.

 The size difference is enormous. Lucky is a large dog, and although he is of gentle nature, there is a lot of strength packed into him. He might get overexcited and waltz into people, clear the living room table with his tail or tackle Clint to the floor whenever he comes home dead on his feet, but he knows to be careful when interacting with kids or smaller animals.

 This kitten is literally the size of his snout. Despite this, she lumbers over and cautiously raises one tiny paw and quickly taps Lucky’s nose. He sniffs her, then gives her another boop with his nose. After a while of back and forth, he simply flops down onto the floor without a care in the world and the kitten curls up on Bucky’s lap again to take a long nap.

 It’s been a long, long day.

 When Bucky is curled around Clint that night, with Lucky by their feet and a little nest of blankets and a heating pad for kitty to cocoon into right next to the bed, he’s happy and content. Part of him is wondering, wishing… With a sigh, he falls asleep and the last thing he notices is the feeling of fur under his fingertips from where his hand is dangling off of the bed. Then a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on his neck, and he is out like a light.

 The next day, first thing after breakfast, they make a field trip to their usual vet. While the kitten didn’t seem to be particularly unwell, they want to make sure she is all well as she can be - especially to think of the way Bucky has found her in the first place.

 He’s done this countless times before, and yet this is different. Bucky finds himself even more concerned, even more protective than usual, but as it turns out, the kitten is as well as she can be. A little girl, mostly healthy although undernourished. With love, care, time and regular check ups, she will have a happy start in life, the vet says with a smile and sends them back on their way.

 Both Bucky and Clint are relieved to hear this - as adorable as the first evening has been, both of them have been concerned.

 “So…” Clint starts, pulling Bucky out of his kitty-watching-trance as they sit in the subway with the carrier in between them, “Do you know what you wanna call her?”

 It only takes him one long look into the blue eyes and the fluffy white fur to decide.

 “Alpine. I think she looks like Alpine.”

 As if to agree, Alpine chirps and Bucky all but melts into a puddle. This cat has totally wrapped him around her paw and she knows it.

 “I just-” he stops himself, but Clint looks at him questioningly. “I just hope whoever ends up adopting her likes that name, too.”

 Bucky is pathetically proud that he sounds as calm as he does. He has fallen heads over heels in love with this little creature, and as much as he’d love to keep her, he knows they can’t keep every stray they find. Letting go means more space for more little lives they can save.

 “Oh I’m sure he does.” Clint answers instantly.

 “Wait, you already know…?”

 “Of course. He’s kinda tall, dark hair, a bit grumpy looking. Metal arm,” Clint continues, and Bucky is left sitting there dumbfounded as he alternates between staring into his boyfriend’s eyes and into the cat carrier.

 “...Real handsome fella, great abs by the way, and don’t get me started on-” Okay, so he’s definitely blushing now. Goddamnit.

 “Oh my God, Clint, stop flirting, you’ve already got me. Can we maybe go back to the part where Alpine is somehow… Mine?”

 The little old lady sitting across from them chuckles, shoots them a fond look and then pretends to look out the window instead of eavesdropping on their conversation. She is not nearly as sneaky as she might think - or maybe she just doesn’t care.

 Clint blinks, then smiles. “Of course. You’ve found her, and I don’t think anyone would be able to separate the two of you even if they tried. Not that I’d want to. I love watching you interact with her.”

 “Aww, how sweet.” the old lady coos, and Bucky can feel his cheeks heat up even more, but there are butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t think he could fall any more in love with this wonderful man next to him. He is well aware that he is probably grinning like a fool, but he’s too happy to care.

 He is in love, life is good, and he’s a Cat Dad now. Taking the hand Clint is offering in his own, fingers intertwined, he remains mostly in silence for the rest of the ride home.

 Really, what else could he possibly wish for?

 If anyone would have told him a few years ago that this would be his life one day, he’d have thought it to be a cruel joke. But it’s very much real, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

 “Lucky, we’re home!”

 The announcement is entirely unnecessary, since the dog in question is already waiting behind the door, ready to greet his humans in the proper fashion he approves of - running face first into their legs and getting up on his hind legs to be able to reach their faces to lick.

 “Hey, boy. Yes, I know, we’ve been gone forever.” Clint is rubbing Lucky’s ears just the way he knows he loves, and is rewarded with a sweet, absolutely content, open mouthed doggy smile and a wagging tail.

 Bucky snorts - it’s not even lunch time, but try explaining that logic to the dog. It doesn’t stop him from petting Lucky just as much as always, because coming home here still feels like the best thing ever.

 “Look, your little sister is back home again.” Bucky tells the dog while gently ruffling his fur.

 With perfect timing as always, Alpine is strolling out of the now open carrier like she owns the world, then she patiently allows Lucky to lick her head a few times. She leans into the touch and flops down to the floor, completely happy where she is as long as Lucky remains close to provide a heat source.

 Later in the day, Bucky naps on the couch with Alpine curled up on his chest. Her purring vibrates through him like a little motor, and while dozing off, he can feel something settle deep in his chest.

 Bucky is on the way out of his therapists office once again when his phone vibrates with a new text message from Clint. He steps to the side in the hallway, because of course it’s pouring from the skies outside once again.

 When he opens up their ongoing conversation, there are two new messages - a video, and a row of purple hearts and crying emojis. Nothing else.

 He uses the wifi of the building to download the video, and when he lets it play, Bucky is about to melt into a puddle right there and then.

 The video shows the cozy corner by the heater in their bedroom, and Lucky is in his usual spot in his fluffy dog bed. From the side of the frame, Alpine climbs into it and snuggles up right into the dog's face.

 Alpine is as tiny and fuzzy as always, which never fails to steal anyone's heart.

 But especially next to Lucky’s giant head and the way he grooms her until she’s got enough and simply wants to snuggle more has Bucky clutching his phone in a deathgrip, smiling all over and getting impatient to be home.

 Before he heads off, he replies with just about the same emojis that Clint sent with his message, then Bucky forwards the video to Steve, Nat and Sam.

 Another night, not long after, Clint walks into the apartment to find music playing loudly.

 He doesn’t need to go far in to check what’s going on, because he can already see Bucky waltzing through the room with Alpine in his arms, looking like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

 Clint falls in love with him all over again, and he spends quite a bit of time just standing in the doorway, watching the scene in front of him with a besotted smile. He loves coming home to this - so much.

 When Bucky sees him, he waltzes over, still holding Alpine in one arm, he pulls Clint close to dance with him - and who is he to deny a beautiful man his wish when he looks at him with so much sparkling happiness in his eyes?

 It doesn’t matter that Bucky is in sweatpants and fluffy socks while Clint still wears his combat boots, carefully avoiding stepping on any toes. They’re simply living in the moment, as best as they can.

 Lucky, sprawled all over the couch, just blinks his one remaining eye open to watch what the funny humans are up to now - then he dozes back off, content just where he is.

*+~

Prompt No. 27 - Little Sister

                             Notes:  

This is the most adorable video. And it was my inspiration for writing this ♥

https://banashee.tumblr.com/post/626543621873795072/everythingfox-illegally-small-via

[awarrows-clintbarton]

Hi!! Is there any chance I could get Clint Barton with "fizzle out" and "rings" as a romantic little somethin' somethin'? Thank you!

It was a wonder how Clint managed to remember his and your anniversary. It really was, and how things magically managed to go off without a hitch until after dinner, and a couple drinks later. The couch left far too comfortable for things that should have been taken to the bedroom. The solid weight of you on top of him. Legs tangled together as you made out like a couple of horny teenagers. Hands moving on their own accord seeking out slices of flesh peeking out from under crumpled clothing. And then Lucky whined and batted you first with his paw before jamming his cold nose right into Clint’s ear. (Not sexy at all.) “Aw Lucky why,” Clint mumbled tilting his head to look at the dog. Lucky merely stamped his paws and looked pointedly at the door before giving a soft ‘woo woo.’ He wanted out...well needed to go out. Ten minutes later and two impossibly long pee’s later Clint was back devouring you like a starving man found water for the first time. This time he had you pressed against the wall of the kitchen. Hands digging into your thighs panting softly into the kiss. Teeth grazing your bottom lip. Breaking the kiss for air Clint grinned lopsidedly at your arm muscles flexing slightly he began to move in the direction of the bedroom lips caressing your jaw and then down your neck. Occasionally nipping and sucking. When he was just about to cross the threshold of the bedroom Clint’s phone began to ring and Heat of The Moment blared throughout the apartment. Fury really did have the worst timing. Clint set you on the bed and went to answer the phone not wanting to piss off the big boss more than he indubitably had already. close to an hour later the moment had all but fizzled out. So maybe it couldn’t be totally perfect, but he had you and that was good enough for him. 

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (chapter 8)

Good Morning and happy friday. Should I stop saying happy friday since it’s Dust day and well... yeah? ANYWHO, Y’all have waited for our lovely OC and Clint to meet and the time is upon us! Actually- it’s not, that’s next week. But GO YOU for waiting TWO MONTHS for the main characters in a romance fic to even meet.

Chapter warnings (because there are always chapter warnings with this fic, except that one time there wasn’t):  general undercurrent of mental and emotional pain. Surprise assault, sexual assault, implied plans of future rape and sexual assault (what will happen? Who knows!), Dog bites, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of hopeful thoughts, mentions of religion.

Chapter 8: When it all goes sideways

Day 39 Post Decimation

~~~~~<3

Clint was up early, dragging himself out of the too hard guest bed before the sun had done more than just lighten the sky. With the reality of his situation weighing on him, he filled a bottle with water and pulled himself behind the wheel of the truck he kept but rarely drove. He needed supplies to survive until he had some sort of plan as to how he was going to move forward.

He also needed coffee but if he stayed in that house a moment longer, he would go mad. He needed a break from it all, for a few hours. It was too much to be surrounded by the things he had shared with this family for too long.

Leaving the farm would be dangerous until people settled into the new way things worked or until the government took control back from the people. With all the political unrest he had seen in his life, it looked very much like what he had seen in the time since he had left New York. It likely would be rebellion on a large scale all over the country- hell all over the world and he didn’t expect that it would come to an end any time soon.

Slowly, he made his way toward Kansas City. He took his time, stopping at every town along the way to gather what supplies he could while checking the political and social environment in the areas surrounding him. He had wasted too much time already and now he had to play a game of catch up.

It was vital to know the situation in the communities surrounding where his home was. That was the only way he could hope to get an advantage in protecting what little still mattered. Mostly, it was empty buildings and empty land that he found. As he moved about in small towns he would catch sight of people looking from windows carefully, watching him. In these towns he would only take a little, if there was anything left to take at all.

He hoped for better pickings to be found within the City where many wouldn’t know what they should have taken for survival. The ignorance of city dwellers could always be counted on. Still, it had been a month and he knew better than to hope for too much.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Deanna carefully moved into the city. The summer heat was beating down on her from what felt like everywhere. Heat radiated up off the asphalt and off the cars. Still, she felt safer weaving her way between cars rather than walking in the open where she would be uncovered. The cars offered her some cover as she made her way into the city, giving her a place to crouch and peek ahead. It was a long walk but until she was closer she didn’t want to risk picking up a car only to have to ditch it at a roadblock.

It was close to noon when she had finally felt safe enough to grab a car from one of the seemingly abandoned dealerships. They had become one of her favorite places to pick up cars. Normally they got good millage, their tanks had plenty of fuel and were often free of both dust inside and decomposing bodies.

She hated driving around, it could draw too much attention but cities were far too big to travel on foot while gathering supplies. It was simply a necessity regardless of if she wanted to drive or not. Grand theft auto was becoming routine for her. She hardly gave it any thought anymore. A rock through the window, find the keys, break into the locked case- typically with the use of heavy things or tools from the shop- and find the car it matched and off she went.

With wheels, she set about finding store. While she drove, she allowed the radio to search for any signals. All it found was static however and she quickly turned it off, preferring the silence and Trust’s panting over the sound of static as she drove. It occurred to her that there was no reason not to grab some CDs. The RV had a CD player as did most cars. Why should she live in silence?

The always familiar big blue sign of a Walmart caught her eye and she wasted no time pulling the truck into the parking lot and backing close to the doors. The glass was shattered on the ground, blown around by the wind and shards covered in a layer of dirt or dust, perhaps both. As she always did, Deanna told Trust to be mindful of his paws as if he would understand her. So far they had been lucky and he hadn’t cut himself on broken glass and that was good enough for her.

As she moved into the store, she clicked the flashlight on her phone on. Grabbing a cart, she set her backpack inside and looked at the mess inside the store. The produce section was nearly empty but what had not been picked clean was molding. As she walked, she found the frozen sections were in a similar state. The general smell within the store was fairly bad.

She was able to find cans of broth and piled them into the cart. Water was cleaned out but she had expected as much. In a pinch she could always just drink straight broth though she couldn’t see it coming to that any time soon. With the salt in the broths, they couldn’t replace fresh water but it was something she could cook in rather than using water.

Surely the government would be back before things got to that point, wouldn’t it? In the very back of some shelves she was able to find some cans of vegetables and fruit. She was surprised to find any at all but it seemed some people didn’t think to crouch down and look in the very back.

It had become surprising, the things she could find in cities that people didn’t think to take. Cleaning supplies, hygienic items and such were often still sitting on shelves. All sorts of goodies could be found in the backs of shelves, left behind by people who didn’t think to kneel down and look in the back.

Two large bags of rice, a heavy bag of flower and just as heavy bag of sugar was added tot he cart. More yeast could be valuable for trading- it had already earned her fresh produce once, it was worth taking what she could to see if she could make that happen again. Peanut butter, jelly and cans of soup were all hiding in the backs of the shelves. A handful of cans of tuna and a good ten cans of chicken was sitting ignored on the shelf. It wasn’t exactly the plethora of food she wished for but it was something.

Dog food was still sitting on the shelves and Deanna could only assume whoever was still in the city hadn’t become desperate enough to resort to eating it. That was all the better for her, she grabbed the largest bags she could and slipped them under the cart. Right in the middle of the store, she grabbed a can of wet food and popped it open. She dumped the food in a bowl from the display and Trust was thankful for another meal, having eaten the can she had brought shortly before they made it to the car dealership.

In the kitchen section she grabbed up some heavy cast iron pans and a dutch oven. Some baking dishes went in next, small cookie pans and a six cup muffin tin found their way into the cart because- why not?

In the book section, she found a few cook books and tossed them in the cart as well as a few paper back books that looked interesting enough. There wasn’t a reason not to, really. While living now was hard work, she had down time with her current set up. She’d always said that she wanted to start reading more, what better time?

A sky blue bedding set was tossed onto of the full cart as her circle through the store neared an end. She stood in front of the fishing gear before she would make a right turn and walk down the back of the store. The flashlight lit up fishing rods and cases full of things she didn’t really understand or know how to use.

She grabbed a rod that looked as good as any of the others and handfuls of whatever looked useful. In a case was jars of what claimed to be salmon eggs and she tossed jar after jar inside. She may not know how to fish but she may as well try and learn. On her way out, she grabbed laundry detergent and more dish soap and that was it.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Clint was perched on a stairway outside a fourth floor apartment overlooking a Walmart in Kansas City. He planned on crashing here for the night and taking his time working his way back to the farmhouse the following day. Whoever had lived in this apartment had been paranoid and for that, he was thankful. It was a jackpot complete with instant coffee- not his favorite but better than nothing.

The door had shown signs of someone trying to break it down but the heavy locks did their jobs. Whoever failed to get inside clearly were not skilled in picking a lock, unlike him. The locks did little to keep him out. Inside he found cabinets full of canned food. With the door locked behind him, a can of peaches in his hand and his bow and quiver at his side, he watched.

The city wasn’t abandoned, that much was clear to him though the remaining people went to great pains to make it look like it. Even before the truck pulled into the Walmart parking lot, there was people moving in the distance, staying in the shadows.

Just because they didn’t want to be seen didn’t mean he didn’t see them. Women would be ushered through dark doorways without so much as a peep. Clint wondered if those women were free to leave, if they wished.

Below, a woman with a dog was busying herself with loading a cart full of some of the oddest things into the truck bed. The dog food made sense to him, as did the large bags of flour, sugar and rice. What didn’t make as much sense to Clint was the bedding. She didn’t see the men as they moved into the parking lot swiftly, baseball bats in their hands. It was clear that they meant her harm. Clint wasn’t one to sit back and watch when she had no chance against the twelve or so men stalking her.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Deanna nearly jumped out of her skin when Trust barked, hackles raised and a deep growl spilling out between bared teeth. They hadn’t been together for long, all things considered however she trusted the dog with every ounce of her being. Still, there wasn’t a lot she could do other than be on guard and pray that it was just another dog that upset Trust.

With gun in hand, she slowly pushed the cart outside. There wasn’t much she could do to peek outside. For better or worse, she had no option but to inch outside with every muscle in her body tensed. It looked clear enough and she set about loading the truck after hushing Trust. The faster she got the truck loaded and out of there, the better.

Trust dashed around the front of the truck, hackles raised and looking wholly ready to defend her life. Deanna didn’t have time to think much of it as she wrestled things into the back. A large fluffy cloud crossed over the sun as the breeze picked up, sending dust into the air around her feet. It felt like a warning in that moment, even if she couldn’t even begin to know how sideways things were about to go.

She didn’t hear him come up behind her. Maybe she would have, if not for the snarling barks of the dog and her blood rushing in her ears. Maybe not. In the end, it didn’t really matter, did it? You only get one shot at things like this and so all she could ever do is guess.

Rough hands grabbed at her waist and pulled her back from the truck. A dirty face and greasy hair sneered down at her. For a short moment her mind went blank. When she jerked the gun up, his hand caught her wrist in a bruising grip. Fingers dug in to the soft flesh of her wrist, tips digging between the bones. Though she tried not to, she cried out when her fingers went numb and the gun slipped to the ground.

In that way that one notices unimportant details when adrenaline floods the body, Deanna noticed the dirt caked around the man’s nails. His whole hand was covered in dirt, as if he hadn’t even seen water in the last month. If she splashed his hands with her bottle, she was sure that the water would run off his fingertips nearly black. She felt dumb for noticing such things, now wasn’t the time to gauge his hygienic practices but she couldn’t help it. The mind was a strange thing, like that.

“Let go of me!” No matter how she yanked, his grip was unrelenting.

“Not happening.”

She struggled and kicked at him but it seemed to take no effort for him to get both her hands pinned in one of his. The weight of him pinned her against the truck as his free hand grabbed at her, pulling at her clothes and hair. Her mind was a blur of half formed thoughts and ideas as she tried to fight him off of her.

With a twist, she almost got free but just as his hands slipped off her arm, they locked around her waist. With a grunt of effort, he hauled her back and threw her against the truck. Air left her lungs in a rush and she struggled to breath. It was pure luck when her heel made contact with the man’s crotch.

Behind her, anther man screamed, his voice blending with the shouts of the man who had been attacking her as he fell to the ground, clutching himself. She couldn’t see it but Trust had his jaws locked on the wrist of another man. The man with the greasy hair pulled himself up against the truck just as Deanna had slipped away.

She was so close, so very close to getting away. Her fingers curled around the handle to the driver’s door when she was yanked back with enough force to rip her shirt. A scream ripped from her throat but she didn’t hear it.

The man, this one blonde yanked her back. In the struggle, she twisted her ankle and white hot pain rushed through her only to be quickly forgotten as she tried to get away with hobbled steps. She didn’t have long however before she was thrown up against the side of the truck once more.

The screams of the man Trust still had locked in his jaws echoed and chilled her to her core even as pleading words pooled out of her mouth. She tried to convince the blonde haired man to let her go, using anything that came to mind as leverage. Perhaps she had gone so far as to even offer up her home on wheels. Later, she wouldn’t be able to recall the things she said and in the end, it didn’t matter. The man could not be bought or bargained with.

What she would be able to recall was the way his hands grabbed at her, pulled at her clothes. There were vile promises falling from his spit covered lips and while she couldn’t recall the words, the memory of their promise would chill her to the bone. As he grabbed at her breasts, he told her of the things his band of thugs did to the women in their care. The way they were slaves to what the men desired. He promised that she’d be cooking their meals, cleaning their messes and seeing to their every need. As if he had left any doubt, he ground his hips into her.

Though she struggled with a renewed energy, she couldn’t get away. His fist bunched in her hair and the pain of it combined with the helplessness and frustration to bring tears to her eyes.

“Just kill me.” The words slipped from her lips as a whimper. In a passing way she had no time to give thought to, she realized that was what she had really wanted. She was a coward, yes and would not seek it out but now- she could beg for death without regret.

“Not until we’re done with you.” He yanked her forward. “Don’t think we’ll go easy on you just because you’re pretty.”

She didn’t think it was possible to want to live in this world, yet she did. It was strange, how the mind could jump from wanting death to wanting to live in the span of a few heartbeats but she did. Perhaps it wasn’t so much that she wanted to live but rather that she didn’t want to suffer for who knows how long while waiting for blessed death.

If she could just get away, she promised herself she would make for herself the best life she could in the new system. Not a single day would be taken for granted. Every sunrise and sunset would be admired with all her heart. If she could just get away, she swore she would never wish for death again. If she could just get away.

She had thought she had wanted to die, not even a few weeks ago and had gone so far as to think about just ending things. She was far too cowardly to act on such thoughts.

If she could just somehow get out of this situation, she would live her life. She would live her life the best she could to make up for the lives her children wouldn’t get to live. She would pick flowers. She would sing songs. She would make a home for herself. If only she could get away.

The man’s callused hands slipped under her shirt for a better grip on her and tears dripped from her chin. Words still fell from her lips, pleads for mercy. She promised them anything, everything she had owned- she would give them. All of her water, all of her food, everything. All she wanted was the be allowed to leave, allowed to live without suffering at their hands.

It wasn’t enough for them. They wanted her.

It had been a long time since she had been faithful. With the emergence of the Norse gods within the realm of reality, it was hard to know what gods were real, which where true gods and if any actually answered prayers. For all anyone could know, they were all aliens. She, like many had lost any real faith. Still, as the man pulled her head back by her hair and wrapped his grimy hand around her throat, she prayed to a nameless god.

She begged any god who dared to listen, any god who may even give the slightest shit about her and the remaining humans to spare her from what they had in store for her. She begged for a sign that she could continue on. She begged for a sign that she wasn’t spared from the decimation, just to suffer through this. She begged whatever god may hear her for a sign that she didn’t outlive her children just to be a slave to a gang. While her vision grew fuzzy and darkness swam around her, she begged for a sign.

She kicked and clawed with what little strength she had even as she felt hope slipping away from her. It was just as well, she thought. She would see them again soon, if she was lucky. If she was lucky, they would kill her soon and she could hold Frankie and Aurora in her arms again.

~~~~~<3

Tag List (as always, if you want on- let me know): @usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-9, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @winterisakiller, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl, @carissime72, @xoxabs88xox, @tnystrk-exe, @queenoftheunderdark

[bandpreferences15]

Lucky

Bucky x reader

Masterlist

Request: I love your writing! Could you please write something where Seb or Bucky and the reader and married with kids? Maybe she's pregnant and gets injured or they get in a fight or something. Angst then sweet fluff? I love the Proud Dad series, so cute! Thanks for sharing your talent and passion with us! 😁💗 🇷🇴 Keep on writing! Melting-marmalade-moons 🌙

A/N: I picked Bucky for this since I don’t have a lot of Dad!Bucky fics and thank you to @Melting-marmalade-moons for requesting. Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason :( There is angst, and domestic bucky

“No.”

“Bucky, come on!”

“Are you seriously no-”

“It’s not happening.” He bent to pick up the laundry basket in front of you, turning down the hall as he exited the room.You sighed, thoroughly annoyed. Here we go again...

“Bucky, you’re being ridiculous. This is an in and out mission! It’s not like I’m going to-”

“You are NOT coming. I won’t say it again.” You nearly bumped into his back as he stopped short in front of the washing machine. You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched Bucky angrily throw a load of towels into the washer. 

“How is this any different than last time?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but Bucky’s shoulders stiffened and he slammed the lid of the washing machine shut, the metal creaking and nearly bending under the force of his hand.

“How is it different? HOW IS IT DIFFERENT?!” He took a step away from you, threading his fingers through his hair. You could tell he was trying to compose himself, quiet whispers escaping his lips. Coordinates. Bucky recited them to calm himself: the location of your first date, the venue for your wedding reception, the hospital where your son was born....

 “It’s different because it’s not just us anymore.” he said, plucking a toddler-sized T-shirt from a folded pile on the dryer. He gently tossed the fabric at you before turning on his heel and exiting the laundry room. “Please don’t ask me again.”

The crack in his voice giving away the true reason behind his unease at your joining the team for an upcoming mission.

He was worried...

You glanced down at the little shirt in your hands ‘My Daddy’s a Hero’ printed in bright block letters on the front. You sighed. Bucky was right, it wasn’t just the two of you anymore. Your son had just turned three and you’d found out last month that you were pregnant again. The last serious mission you’d been on, you were three months pregnant with your son. Bucky was a nervous wreck having you out in the field, but being pregnant didn’t hinder your abilities as a fighter.

Yes, Bucky was right. But you needed this. You needed to get out of the house and back to the life you once knew. You missed training with the team and were having “ass-kicking withdrawal” as Clint liked to call it. You loved having a family. You loved waking up in the morning to find Bucky and your son in the kitchen discussing the latest episode of Paw Patrol while sharing a bowl of cereal. You loved reading to your son before tucking him into bed. Hell, you even loved the Mommy and Me group activities even though half of the mothers were nosy bitches who stared a bit too long at your husband for your liking.

You carefully folded the little shirt and placed it back on the pile. 

You had expected Bucky to storm down to the gym to take out the frustration brought on by your request to rejoin the team, so you were startled to see him leaning against the doorway to your son’s room. Your three-year-old was quietly driving his toy cars along the road map rug that Steve had gotten him for his birthday, completely oblivious to his father’s watchful eye. You leaned against the wall across from Bucky. You could feel the tension coming off of him in waves.

“He’s still too little to understand what it is we do for a living...” he trailed off, scrubbing a hand across his face. “It’s hard enough being away from him...away from you when I’m working. I don’t ever want...” his breath caught and you immediately reached for his hand, tugging him into the hallway and gently closing your son’s door. Bucky’s eyes burned from the tears that threatened to fall. You gently pushed him toward the bedroom you shared, taking a seat on the bed while Bucky paced on the decorative rug in front of the dresser.

“I can’t let you go on missions-let me finish.” he held up a hand as you opened your mouth to protest. “I can’t let you go out there because if anything happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to explain to our son that his mommy got hurt or kil-Jesus- I just can’t, Y/N, I can’t.” His shoulders were heaving now, his breath coming in short burst as he desperately tried not to break down. Standing from your seat on the bed, you moved in front of your husband, carefully sliding your hands up his arm and letting them come to rest at the back of his neck. Bucky sagged into you, arms encircling your waist and face tucking into your neck. 

He held you for a few moments, the shuddering breaths and light sniffles the only sounds in the room. He pulled away only to rest his forehead against yours, your thumbs coming up to wipe away the moisture that had gathered on his cheeks.

“I don’t want to do it anymore, Y/N. I don’t want to risk my life every time I go on a mission and not know if I’ll come back to you.” You silenced him with a kiss, your fingers gently combing through his hair. “I know you love it and I know you miss it, but we have something more now. We have Noah and whatever this little peanut turns out to be.” he let out a wet laugh, knuckles gently grazing over your barely-there baby bump.

“I know.” you replied, cuddling further into his embrace. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll sit out the missions. Maybe I can go to the gym with the girls, show them I could still kick your ass, even while pregnant.”

“You definitely could not kick my ass.” Bucky laughed in reply, “Steve, maybe, but not me.”

“That so?” you joked, “You wouldn’t let your pregnant wife win in a fight?” 

Bucky’s smirked.

“Well I wouldn’t willingly let you win but, you know, there are some aspects of pregnancy that might prove to be a bit...” he wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, “Distracting.” his hand slid upward from where it was resting on your hip, his fingertips gently tracing the underside of your breast.

“James Barnes!” you giggled, pulling away and smacking him with the nearest pillow. “You’re lucky I love you” you fake sneered at him.

“You’re right. I am lucky.” he whispered, gazing at you in adoration before declaring that he was off to go make some mac and cheese.

[midnightcalibration]

Merry Bobunk Christmas!

What: Short Fanfiction

Fandom: Avengers

Characters: Read the tags for the list.

Why: ‘Cos me and a friend of mine came up with the idea of giving a Christmas role to each avenger, and I decided to write this.

Words: Almost 1800 according to my text editor.

Quality: Probably with a lot of typos and awful grammar.

Stupidity level: High (I hope).

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

Tony is coming back to his workshop to continue one of his most important projects of the year. He hadn't slept since whenever the last time was, but who needs sleep when you've got coffee? He pities those who can't drink the miraculous brew.

As he enters the room the first thing he notices is DUM-E fighting against the cables of some Christmas lights. The lights are winning... Oh! Now U is trying to help his brother, that's nice. Aaaand now he's stuck too. Tony can't believe he won a prize for one of those things.

"Dum-E, U, stop destroying my delicate work, if you please."

Sparks jump out of the lights.

"You know those lights are supposed to last, not turn into fireworks. Sto- Ah- great! The workshop is on fire. Congratulations! Now it would be a good time to use your skills with the fire extinguisher, Dum-E," Tony says as he grabs said object himself, "Though I'm not sure you would still point it at me, instead of the fire..."

After putting the fire out and helping his not so intelligent bots, he gets back to work. He is just a little bit tired, but he has to finish it in time.

Last years had been chaotic. He never had time to properly put on a good Christmas decoration show for everybody. It's not like he is a traditionalist, or even believes in Christmas. For him, it is a time where people start to compete to see who has the best circus in town. And he, as the Stark he is, cannot just let it pass. He is the greatest showman there is. Sorry, Hugh Jackman, not sorry.

Has he hears the "bing" of the elevator sound he looks in its direction and sees the best two presents he is lucky to have in his life. Pepper is holding Morgan's hand while the little pea giggles as she skips and pulls her mother with her. Only when they got closer he notices something is odd. They are wearing costumes.

"What do we have here?" Tony asks. "An elf munchkin coming straight from Santa's workshop? And she's bringing with her a..." what is Pep supposed to be? "Gingerbread woman? Seriously?" He snorts. "Is it because of your hair?"

"Well, this Santa's little helper here thought you might need a sweet cookie to help you work," Pepper replies.

"Ok," he snorts again, "that sounds like something you would never say."

"Well, I didn't say it, Miss M. did."

Another "bing" echoes in the air and Peter comes out rushing and talking non-stop, "Oh, So sorry I am late Mr. Stark, I had to help like half of the people I saw when coming here as well as save like seven cats from trees and woah I even found a goat on one, Did you know goats climb trees? It's amazing, I mean I knew that already but I never thought I would see one in New York, And-"

"Calm down, Speedy Gonzalez! Have you ever heard about punctuation? And, I don't know, breathing?" Tony sasses before noticing Peter is also wearing an elf costume. "Did you go around saving old ladies from crosswalks in that?"

"Oh this?" Peter looks at himself, "I wasn't sure what to dress as but then Morgan told me she needed an elf brother and I was happy to be hers!"

Okay. That makes sense, Tony guesses.

"Has the party already started?"

Tony jerks his head and sees Rhodey, in a ridiculous candy cane suit. Like, seriously, what is going on? Why is platypus wearing that colorful, er-, thing, where only his face is visible?

"What's up, honey bear? Did you get abducted by aliens, where they did all these terrible things to you, and now you have a nineteen year old college student clown soul trapped in your body? Come on, Rho-rho, you can do it! You can win the fight for the right of control. Now really, what party?"

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Tones," Rhodey says with a fake laugh. "I hope you haven't forgot that today is Bobunk day."

The fu-?

"Bobunk is my favorite!" Morgan almost squeals. "It's what makes Christmas magical."

"It sure is, honey," Pepper agrees and Peter nods. OK, maybe he drank too much coffee. Or not enough!

He turns to his desk to get his mug so he can wash down the brown liquid. It is then he notices two big present boxes near the wall, that were not there before.

"Who the hell put that there?"

"Boss, you should mind your language! Morgan has ears." FRIDAY spoke.

"Sorry honey bee," Tony says trying to ignore that the sentence "has ears" was a bit odd, in the context. Like, it is true, but perhaps not the best way to put it. Maybe he needs to check FRIDAYS NL program, and see if she's not trying to learn her vocabulary from websites where people forget the difference between "they're", "their" and "there". Anyway, the presents! What are they doing there?

As he approaches the packages, they "explode" with a loud pop revealing Nat and Clint smiling from ear to ear, with present bows in their heads, dressed in wrapping paper, and shouting "SURPRISE! MERRY BOBUNK CHRISTMAS!!!"

Okay, now he is sure they are trying to troll him. He gets it, he deserves it for all the times he did the same. It was never at this level of crazy, though. He would keep it to wit and sarcasm.

*knock, knock, knock*

The sound came from the balcony glass doors. It is dark outside and Tony can't see anyone. And who would enter through the balcony? Except for him, of course? He purposefully ignored it.

*KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK*

He looks again. Nothing. He resists the urge to ignore it again, but then whoever is outside is probably freezing. And they are just pranking him in a weird way, they don't deserve to turn into ice cubes, right?

When he opens the door, he sees a snowman. Dressed. As. Captain. America.

"Ahah, joke is on you! This is more of a jab to Capsicle, not me."

"What are you talking about, Tony?" The voice sounds so much like Steve's. Where the- "Holy shit!"

"Language!"

The effing snowman is speaking. IT. IS. SPEAKING! Like, it is not Rogers dressed as a snowman. It is a effing snowman, like a real one.

"How are you doing it?" Tony is still perplexed. And not even sure he can believe Olaf here actually had enough humor in him to be passing as a snowman.

"Doing what, Tony?" the freaking snowman actually frowned.

"Make it so realistic?"

"Tony, do you always need to be so rude?"

"Wha-" *CLASH*

Tony rushes inside to see what has been broken. He hopes it wasn't anything related with his Christmas project.

He stops. Thor is there, blinking. Not with his eyes, no. He is lighting on and off in several spots. You know.... like Christmas lights!!! And he is fighting is bots!

"I challengeth thee to fight me with honor, arms of metall. Thee shalt learn the warth of the mightie lightning!"

"Pepper! Pepper Ann!" Tony calls.

"What is it, Tony?"

"What is happening? Please tell me you are seeing how weird this is. I'm not going crazy, right? I don't do crazy."

"What are you talking about?" she smiles, "You are always crazy. Come! Let's see the nativity scene."

"We don't have a nativity scene, Pepsy Pep."

Pepper chuckles as she points to two new figures. Yep! He gives up. Yep, yep. For the good of his sanity, he's going to pretend everything is normal.

Wanda is dressed as Virgin Mary, and is hugging(?) Vision who seems to be wrapped in a big blanket, and very naked under it.

"Hey there, Mary, baby Jesus." Tony acknowledges. "Where is Joseph?"

Vision replied with baby cries. Totally normal.

"I'm a single mother."

"Oh yes, of course you are. Sorry for the assumption."

"I am Groot!"

"You're right, you a-" Did the tree just talked?

"Meow!" T'Challa says, his cat tail wagging as he "paws" at panicking Bucky and Scott, who are hanging from the tree - which has grown, just a note - like Christmas tree decorations. From above, Sam and Hope are laughing. They have wings so they can fly away from the sharp claws of the King of Wakanda.

Of course this is normal. He just probably traveled to an alternate universe. He just needs to know how to go back to his sane plane of reality.

The tree is gigantic, now. It's breaking the glass doors and cracking the walls. It is threatening to destroy the whole tower. This can't be. No matter how everyone is ignoring what is happening, this is dangerous and he can't let anyone get hurt. Specially Pepper and Morgan.

He makes a gesture to call his suit, and flies outside to assess the damage. Curiously enough, nothing seems to be in danger.

"Boss!"

"Yes FRIDAY?"

"We have an UFO incoming, and fast."

"Say what now?"

He looks and sees something is coming his way. His GUI zooms on the object.

"This is normal, this is normal, this is normal."

"SANTA SMAAAAAASH!" Green Hulk Santa yells, as he flies through Tony in a sled pushed by a black reindeer with a helmet that looked the exact same as Loki's.

They smash into the tower, because why wouldn't they, right? The 'K' of the STARK lettering of the tower falls.

Then he sees it! It all makes sense, now! This is Bobunk Christmas in its perfection! This is his destiny.

Letting himself accept the Christmas spirit burning inside him, he flies to the top of the tower, that now was more tree than anything else, opens his arms and legs and turns on the repulsors, casting a magnificent light, turning into a blinding shining star.

He feels magnificent!

Everyone on the street below start to cheer and applauding the exhibition. He did it! He got the best Christmas decoration of the world!

"Stark!" Everyone shouts.

"Stark!"

"Please! This is not about me," he says.

"STARK, WAKE UP!"

Tony jerks as he wakes up.

Fury is towering over him with a disapproving frown. Everything is back to normal, since it had all been a dream.

"Stark, why are you looking at me like that?" Fury asks, with actual confusion painted in his face.

"I makes total sense!"

"What does?"

"You!"

"Me?"

"You are my Bobunk Christmas Grinch!"

THE END!

[barnesnmrnoble]

Reason #14 -- Clint Barton

Main Masterlist - Clint Barton Masterlist - Reasons To Love – Clint Barton Masterlist

Reason #14 – Lucky Boy. – Clint needs a little puppy love and Lucky, being the world’s best ball of golden fur, knows just how to make Clint feel better. 

Word Count: 1306

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton (Winterhawk)

Warnings: little bit of angst, lots of fluff. Lucky being the best damn dog ever

A/n: I have a penchant for writing service dogs, and this is no exception. I’m not sorry about it! I hope you all enjoy! If you do, leave a like and a reblog or comment! I’d love to hear what you think and honestly I need the validation. (Mistakes are mine!)

Read on AO3!

Clint stumbled through the door, looking like he drank an entire bar, and then some. His blonde hair was mussed and dirtied with whatever goo had exploded from the monster of the week. He needed a shower, bad. 

He was sporting a few new bandages, on top of what he’d already received from a mission last week. A new one on his freshly recovered ribs, (so much for recovered.) one on his left wrist and two on his right leg where he’d been stabbed and then clipped with a bullet just inches above. It really was a shit mission. 

He was exhausted, beyond it really. He barely even made into the apartment before collapsing against the nearest wall and sliding down in a heap of pain whimpers. His head thumped against the wall and he let his eyes fall closed, too heavy to keep open. He was more than happy to let exhaustion win and sleep there for a minimum of three days. 

Clint had taken his aids out before he came home, leaving them with Tony to do some modifications knowing that’d he had a spare pair at home to last him until those were fixed. It was because of his lack of aids, that he entirely missed the soft clicking of nails, and the heavy thud of boots headed for him. Really if he hadn’t been so tired he might have been able to tell but he was so he didn’t really try to pay attention to his surroundings. 

He didn’t open his eyes until a cold nose pressed against his cheek and two paws took a stance on his good leg (luckily). Even then it took him a full minute to gain the strength to open his eyes, and he only opened them enough to see the golden fur of his dog before closing them again. “Bite my neck, luck. Just— just chomp down as hard as you can. Okay?” He patiently waited for Lucky’s teeth to sink into his throat but he only got his wet nose nudging at his face and a drooling tongue slobbering all over his neck. Not quite what he was imagining but he couldn’t help his smile at it. 

The weight changes on his leg and he realizes this 80 pound dogs is about to lay on his lap like he loves to do and that’s an issue because he is going to put a hell of a lot of pressure on the wounds on Clint’s leg and it’s going to hurt worse than when he got them. But with his ribs and wrist hurting as much as they do, he can’t make the move to try and redirect Lucky and he really needs the weight of the dog to keep him from delving too far into the anxiety that’s berating him right now. 

He loves Lucky, wishes he had a piece of pizza to give him because the dog always seemed to know what he needed, gave him comfort after a hard day, kept him company when the apartment was too empty and the silence was a bit too much. Clint wasn’t sure he’d get through some days without the lump of golden fur and that cold, wet nose. 

Clint prepares himself for that inevitable moment when Lucky digs those long nails, ones Clint has been meaning to cut -but life keeps getting in the way, being an avenger did leave him with much down time- dig into his freshly sutured leg, but it never comes. Actually, the weight of Lucky’s body is lifted from him altogether. That makes him open his eyes. 

He smiles when he sees Bucky, sliding down the wall beside him. He’d moved Lucky to Clint’s other side so he could still have the presence of the dog, which he knew he needed right now, but avoided the possibility of those paws tearing the sutures Bucky didn’t want to re-do. 

Bucky smiles at him and runs a hand through the worst of the matted parts of Clint’s hair. His other hand, the metal one, threads between Clint’s and gives a reassuring squeeze and then Bucky is bending towards Clint to brush his lips against his in a soft kiss. It’s sweet and short, leaving Clint to chase him a little once Bucky breaks away from him. He stretches over Clint and pulls a box from the small table by the door. 

He hadn’t planned to give it to him now. Bucky wanted to wait for his birthday, which was only a few days away but today seemed like it had been more than just rough and Bucky concluded that he could give Clint a surprise to make the day even marginally better. 

He watches Clint fumble with the box and the tape at the edges, a fond smile on his lips. Eventually Clint gets frustrated with his inability to open it with that damn brace on his wrist and before he can throw it across the room, Bucky grabs it for him and opens it handing him what had been inside.

Clint isn’t quite sure what to say when he gets a look, he isn’t sure he could form words at his current levels of exhaustion. So he doesn’t say anything, just leans against Bucky, kisses his jawline, he’d go for the lips but that would require him to stretch up and he has avoided too much pain thus far, might as well keep it going. He lazily signs a thank you and calls Lucky to stand and cover to his other side so he can make sure the service dog vest that had been inside the box fits well over Lucky. 

He smiles when it does, fits perfectly and looks even more perfect. The two of them had talked about training Lucky to be a service dog, he had become such a big part of both of their lives and had the instincts to help them when they needed. From the day Clint had rescued him from those abusive tracksuit mafia bastards, he’d noticed those instincts. 

The first time had been when Clint had one of the worst days of his life, his anxiety had been sky high, and every little thing seemed to send him into a flashback. He’d nearly gotten himself and Tasha killed on that mission, stuck in a vivid flashback from The Battle of New York that he left him frozen and terrified in a situation he’d needed the hawk like focus he was known for. When he got home, he’d broken down and Lucky had been the one to pull him from the brink, whining and nosing at him until he came back to himself long enough to call Bucky. Even then staying with him, his head on his chest until Bucky walked in the door to take over, and Lucky still stayed close by just in case. 

And he’d done it for Bucky too, jumping on the bed and settling himself onto his chest , licking Bucky’s face until he either calmed down from whatever nightmares plagued him that night, or he woke up and scratched behind Lucky’s ears until his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal. 

He’d even started to help Clint when he didn’t have his aids in, pawing at him or nudging him until he got Clint’s attention to tell him someone was at the door or that his phone was ringing. Clint’s favorite part about that? When Lucky had learned to not let Clint know when Fury called. It made Clint laugh every time and praise Lucky with the biggest slice of pizza he had on hand. 

He was so damn grateful for this dog, for his best friend. Who knew the pizza dog would become such an important part of his life. 

Lucky probably did, he was a damn smart dog.

[tonystarkreactor]

Get Home

Link to ao3.

Summary:

Barnes lifts his metal hand. Three, two, one.

The door slams open, bouncing off what is presumably an AIM agent. Clint immediately darts around the door, using Barnes’s arm as cover. He grabs the gun off the agent, along with a couple clips and a knife. With a flick of the wrist, he flings the blade and it hits the other agent in his chest, dead-center.

Clint smells the stinky breath before he can hear anything, before he sees the blinding sun through the crack in the curtains, before he feels his head hurt. He rolls his right leg over, turning himself onto his side, only for his cheek to be met with the warm, rough tongue of his doofus of a dog. His mouth involuntarily curls into a grin.

He pats a quick hand to his chin, before pulling it back down to ruffle Lucky’s ears. Lucky simply leans his head in further and continues to cover Clint’s face in kisses. Clint grins, before shoving his face into his pillow once he gets a bit too much of his dog’s slobber on his mouth.

Then, the dumb dog is putting his paws on Clint’s side and pushing himself up, which really gives the archer no choice but to face the day. If he knows his dog, and he does, he won’t be letting him get another wink of sleep.

“Dumb dog,” Clint mutters, but he pushes himself up onto his elbows anyway. He shoves Lucky away, though the dog is hesitant to let that happen. Clint reaches over to slap around for his hearing aids, only to find them not where he’s sure he left them. He twists and rolls himself out of bed, squinting at his nightstand.

He’d put them there last night. He tilts his head. Well, this morning. Eh, semantics. Where the fuck are his hearing aids?

(read more)

He tries to look for the flash of purple, checking every shelf, every drawer, under the nightstand, under the bed-- but nowhere. What the fuck?

Clint just scowls, placing his hands on his hips. He’s about to shout for Kate when he remembers that she headed out around midnight. She could be back by now, but he doubts it. He’s pretty sure she’s got a date with some girl she saved the other day anyway, so he doubts getting back to the apartment is exactly a priority for her.

He turns to Lucky. “You eat ‘em?” he asks, not above blaming his doofus of a dog.

Lucky simply tilts his head, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

Clint sighs, before turning and tugging on some sweatpants from the floor. With that, he heads out to his kitchen, his hands already grabby for coffee. He feels the graze of Lucky’s fur against his calf, so he goes ahead and gives the dog a pat as he starts up the coffeemaker.

He spots his phone plugged in a little way down the counter, and he sees that it’s lit up. It’s not flashing, so he knows there isn’t an Avengers issue-- still, few people text him, and Katie-Kate mentioned that she would probably be too busy to chat for a while (on a date, not that she’d tell his nosy ass that).

While he waits, he picks up his phone, thumbing through his notifications to see several texts from the Avengers group chat.

Dad: hey losers, we’re going out to that pizza place in hell’s kitchen, the one with the giant slices at 7

Mom: I’m sorry, what Tony meant to say was: do you guys want to go at 7:00 tonight?

Dad: Don’t ruin my fun, snookums.

Inferior Birdman: If you never call him snookums again, sure

Dad:  gosh darn sam cant make it! What a fucking shame

Mom: Tony

Nat: Sure. I’ve got a debriefing at 5, but I should make it.

Bruce: Sure, I don’t have anything to do

Dad: Buck told me he’ll come

Bruce: Thor’s out of the realm again, right?

Dad: Sure is! Sorry, Brucie-kins, but at least this way i don’t have to pay for an Asgardian amount of pizza

Nat: Pretty sure that with the three of them, Bucky, Steve, and Bruce can make up for that amount.

Bruce: i mean… probably.

Nat: And that’s excluding Clint

Mom: speaking of… clint?

Nat: He’s probably asleep

Bruce: its

Bruce: nvm I was going to point out it was two in the afternoon, but it’s clint

Clint puts his hand to his bare chest, before remembering there was no one to fake drama for. That, and Bruce’s last message had been sent four hours ago.

He grimaces, tapping out a quick response: Excuse. I was asleep and I was enjoying it.

And I can go, he types. He glances at Lucky, who’s giving him the look he always gives when he somehow knows pizza is being discussed. “Calm down, I’ll bring you some leftovers,” he says , setting the phone down.

He skirts around Lucky to grab his coffee. It’s not as good as Stark’s, but it’s caffeine, so who the hell cares? He tips up the pot and takes a sip, reaching over for his phone when he sees it light up again, this time just a separate text from Natasha.

Nat: I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but did you really just wake up?

He’s typing out a sassy response when he receives the next text.

Nat: how many hours did you actually get?

He scowls. He does the math in his head, approximating twelve, from the time he’d actually gone to bed around six that morning. He’s pretty sure that that’s too much. He shoots her a quick message of a normal amount, before grabbing a box of cereal to snack on before it’s time to go.

He’s halfway through shoving a handful of Captain Crunch into his mouth when he then gets a text from Phil.

Phil: Have you been trying the meditation your therapist recommended?

Clint groans, turning his phone’s screen off before plunging his hand back into the box.

Pretty soon, he’s hopping around to put on jeans, almost braining himself on his door frame as he nearly trips over his pant leg. He throws on a flannel over a black t-shirt. He flexes in the mirror, just to make sure he looks like, as Kate says, a snack. He thinks he does.

“What do you think?” He turns to Lucky, who’s sitting up and wagging his tail by his water bowl.

“Shit, dog, you’ve probably gotta pee, yeah? Okay, hold on,” he says. He slips his phone into his pocket, grabbing Lucky’s leash off his dresser. He clips it around his neck, grabbing a plastic bag out of the trash bag hanging from the back of the front door just in case.

Lucky leads him outside, and Clint gasps as he notices a fire hydrant a little down the street, painted to look like Iron Man. “Come on, Lucky!” he says, tugging him along. Lucky stares at him for a moment, but seems to be happy for the short trip anyway.

When they reach the hydrant, Clint points at it. “Pee on it.”

Lucky just flops his head to the side.

“Pee on the fire hydrant, for the love of God, please, please,” Clint begs, pointing more and more enthusiastically at the hydrant. “Please, if you want me to be happy for the rest of my life, pee on Tony Stark.”

He is definitely getting stared at, but he’s got his phone out, ready to take a picture. “Lucky! Piss on Stark!”

Lucky still looks a little confused, but he follows Clint’s pointing anyway. He lifts his leg, and--

“Ha! Got it!” Clint exclaimed gleefully, bouncing on his toes. “Good boy!” he praises, once Lucky’s done. “You wonderful, wonderful boy!” he says. By this point, a gaggle of old ladies has actually stopped to stare at them, so Clint figures it’s probably time to head back inside.

After making sure Lucky’s not going to take a surprise dump on the steps of the building, Clint brings him back up to their apartment. He refills Lucky’s bowls, feeds him a treat, and tosses a toy before heading out, grabbing his bow and quiver on the way. Just in case.

Clint’s a little late to the pizza place, but it’s pretty easy to find a table full of Avengers, no matter how crowded the place is. He finds them in a spot near a corner of the restaurant, two tables shoved together, chairs pulled from a few others.

There’s a spot open next to Nat, across from Barnes, so Clint takes it, dropping his bow and quiver so they lean against the table. Tony immediately starts talking at him, so Clint has to put up a hand to stop him. He puts his fingertips together, drops them, then taps an X behind his ear. “I lost my hearing aids,” he signs.

Tony throws his head back, rolling his eyes before looking back at him, tapping a V to his forehead. “Idiot. In the future, tell me! I’ll bring the prototype I’ve been working on,” he says, signing along. He only gets the grammar wrong once-- Clint will give him kudos later.

Tony plunges back into what he’d been saying before, this time signing along-- apparently, Steve had attempted to help him assemble a suit, but he ended up breaking multiple fingers off the gauntlet.

“I said sorry!” Steve says, his face screwing up in defense as he circles his fist against his chest.

“Fuck!” Clint says, and he realizes from the flinch of an old lady at a neighboring table that it comes out a little loud. He works to lower his voice, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Lucky pissed on Stark!” he says, tapping across the screen to get to the photo.

From the corner of his eye, he notices Barnes’s hands still halfway through a breadstick. Okay, maybe he should have phrased it differently.

He glances up, sees everyone staring at him, but Tony’s head is jutted forward, his eyebrows furrowed, as he repeatedly signs, “Excuse me?”

Clint cackles to himself, turning the phone around to show everyone. He sees Tony scoff before flipping him the bird, while everyone else starts laughing. Natasha’s grinning and shaking her head. “Idiot,” she signs, pressing the V to her forehead.

He grins, putting his phone away, but not before sending it to the group chat quickly. Tony obviously realizes what he’s doing, as he flips him off once again.

“So what’d you order me?” Clint asks, turning to Natasha.

“We ordered you a slice of your usual, along with half a slice of pepperoni to go for Lucky.”

“You know me so well,” he says, throwing himself against her side. She shoves him off, and he nearly falls off his chair, which he should have expected.

He pouts, grabbing a breadstick from the tray resting on top of the napkin box. He pulls it away, the mozzarella dragging along with it. It doesn’t separate itself from the rest of the cheese, unfortunately, and it all drops back down to the greasy parchment paper. Clint pouts. “Aw, cheese.”

He notices the movement of Barnes’s shoulders, and he glances up to see the man laughing at him.

Clint scowls, flipping him off before picking up the pile of molten mozzarella. He shoves it in his mouth, only burning his fingers a little. He wipes his hands on his pants, leaving greasy streaks, before lifting his arm to scratch his hair.

Natasha’s face immediately scrunches up. “Jesus, Clint, when was the last time you took a shower?” she asks, not bothering to hide her disgust, even as she furrowed her eyebrows for the “when”.

“Uh,” he says, dropping his arm.

She curls her lip and circles a clawed hand around her stomach. “Gross.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything when you dyed your hair blonde, you don’t say anything about my body odor.”

“That was for a mission --”

Clint stops her hands by throwing his own wildly, before actually signing. “You looked like an old woman. It emphasized all the lines on your face.”

A hand shakes the table, and Clint looks over to see it’s Tony’s, slammed onto the surface. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows raised. “Do you want to be killed?” he signs, his movements sharp.

“Natasha loves me,” Clint replies. “She won’t kill me. Not until I’m forty-five, like we discussed.”

“I did not agree to that, Clint,” Nat says.

“I--” Clint starts, only to stop when he notices the unusual stillness in the corner of his eye. He glances over and sees that Barnes is staring with his mouth hanging open, just a little bit.

“What?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

He sees Bucky say something like “uh” before he hesitantly gives a flick by his ear, tilting his head just slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh.” Clint belatedly realizes his and Natasha’s spat had not actually been voiced out loud. He’s pretty sure ASL was not one of the languages HYDRA decided to teach, so Bucky is not nearly as fluent in it as the rest of the group is. Clint shrugs. “I called Nat out for her ugly blonde days,” he says. “It wasn’t a good look. Also, Nat’s gonna kill me when I turn forty-five.”

“I am not,” Natasha argued, raising her hand as she spots an employee carrying two much-too-large trays of food. The employee looks starry-eyed as he brings the pizzas over, his face slack with shock.

“Please!” Clint says. “Kill me,” he signs. “Unless I look like George Clooney or the Trivago guy, kill me.”

“Forty-five isn’t old,” Tony signs from across the table. Clint ignores him.

“Man, why are you obsessed with the Trivago guy?” Sam says, tilting his head. He’s trying to sign, but he doesn’t know much, so he’s mostly fingerspelling everything.

“Have you seen him?” Clint asks, already grabbing a piece of his slice before the kid’s even set it down. “He’s a silver fox.”

“Meanwhile, Tony is just silver?” Bruce suggests.

“Hey! I don’t even have a single grey hair!” Tony argues, puffing his chest.

“Right, because he’s already dyed it this week,” Steve says, tilting his head and giving Tony his I’m-A-Perfectly-Innocent-All-American-Treasure look. It doesn’t stop Tony from  grabbing his arc reactor and hissing, “You traitorous bitch!”

Clint grabs Tony’s attention, because this is important. “If Nat doesn’t kill me, will you?” he asks, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

The billionaire shrugs apologetically. “Sorry. Pepper says I can’t murder anyone unless they’re a supervillain. It’s bad for the press.”

He pouts, sandwiching another two pieces of pizza and shoving them into his mouth. “Goddamn it. I don’t wanna live past forty-five!” he says, but it most likely just sounds like muffled noises through his chipmunked cheeks.

“I feel hurt,” Tony says. Clint ignores him again.

“Don’t worry, Clint,” Steve says, grinning too-innocently. “I feel great, and I’m barely ninety-eight!”

“Shut the fuck u--”

He stops. There’s a woman sitting a few tables away, and she just got up to get her third refill drink since he’d gotten there. Normally, he wouldn’t think anything of it, but he’s pretty sure he catches her lips moving as she goes.

Clint quickly changes course, signing a quick story of Lucky, except halfway in, he throws in their emergency signal for “Avengers”-- just a quick double-tap of an A on his wrist.

Everyone catches it, even Barnes, who’s been staring like he’s mostly lost the whole time. Clint cranks his neck, acting as if to pop it, but he’s gesturing towards the woman. Everyone subtly arms themselves-- Tony flexes his hand just right, and his watch unfolds into his gauntlet, Steve’s own watch doing the same into a version of the shield; Sam, Nat, and Bucky each slide a gun out of… somewhere; and Clint slips his quiver onto his back and his bow in hand in one fluid motion. Bruce just braces himself in case of a Code Green.

Unfortunately, since a bow is hardly as discreet as a gun, it definitely catches the enemy’s attention.

Clint can’t hear the gunshot, but he sees the man near the door fire. “Get out!” Clint yells, even as people start running towards the exits. Luckily, the bullet doesn’t hit anyone, but he’s pretty damn sure this is about to turn into a firefight.

He smoothly nocks a few arrows, firing them off. He hits two of the other side-- the drink lady, and a man in dark gear who’d just snuck in from the back. The lady goes down, an arrow in her chest, while the man simply stumbles from the arrow to the shoulder. Clint ducks the man’s bullet, firing another shot. The man goes down like a bag of bricks.

He spins around, and he spots a door behind the counter swinging shut-- but the cook he sees through the window had been far closer to another exit.

He sprints across the room, springing himself off the counter. He shoves through the door, sees the cook, but then he spots a woman near the fridge, aiming a gun at the cook. The cook has his hands up, shaking awfully.

Clint has an arrow aimed at her in less than a second. “Let him go,” he says.

The woman raises an eyebrow, and he reads her lips: “You think your outdated weaponry scares me? A gun is a hell of a lot faster than a bow.”

Clint shrugs a shoulder, a corner of his mouth quirking up. “You haven’t seen me shoot,” he says. The arrow sprouts from her head and she falls to the ground without another word.

“You good?” Clint asks, approaching the cook. “Any injuries, or--?” he says, extending a hand to help the guy up.

“Thank you,” the man says, still visibly shaking.

“No problem. Now,” he says, “Get out of here. Take a back exit, avoid as much fire as you c--”

Clint can barely think as he feels a blunt force being thrown into his side, along with a hot, fiery pain as the cook, obviously an agent in disguise, plunges a knife into his left shoulder. Then, his head hits the floor, and he can’t think at all.

Clint blinks blearily. His head hurts like hell; it’s like someone is inside his brain and has taken to thudding a crowbar against his skull. And that’s not even mentioning his shoulder. He’s pretty sure that, if his shoulder wasn’t connected to the rest of his body, it would already be dead and haunting Nick Fury. In other words-- fucking ow.

Clint can’t move his hands-- when he tries, he feels the bite of coarse ropes holding them back. Still, he can tell it’s a standard handcuff knot-- it is locked in place with a reef knot, though. That makes it a little tough, but he should be able to get out of it in not too long.

He scans his surroundings. It’d help if he had his hearing aids, to hear for any noise outside, but he’ll have to do without. He opts for watching under the door instead-- no footsteps yet.

He cranes his neck back, trying to get an idea of his situation. The room is dark, and the air is heavy and cold enough to assume he’s underground. Wait-- they’re underground.

Because behind him, just a few feet away, is the Winter Soldier himself. Actually, Clint doesn’t know if Barnes likes that name. He hasn’t exactly spent much time with him.

Clint whispers, “You up?” before realizing he’s a dumbass.

He presses his tied feet to the floor, pushing to the left. The chair moves just slightly. The noise is probably terrible, but ha. He keeps going, pushing himself by just a few inches each time. Eventually, he’s moved and twisted enough that he’s facing Barnes, now to the left of Barnes rather than directly behind him.

He sees Barnes’s lips moving, so at least he’s up. However, his speaking means absolutely nothing to him.

“Still can’t hear you,” the archer says. “And it’s too dark to read your lips clearly. The angle’s shit, too.”

Barnes winces. A glance tells Clint that Barnes’s own restraints are fraying, but he still can’t do any actual signing yet. However, he can see Barnes’s fingers moving, even as he tries to rip through the rope. S-E-E W-H-O?

Clint shakes his head, before pausing. He thinks through the events of earlier, whenever they were. He thinks he remembers seeing a glimpse of yellow on one of the agents’ suits.

He moves through a quick A-I-M, then flattens his hand and shakes it. Maybe.

He looks up at Barnes’s face, only to see him still staring at Clint’s hand, his eyes narrowed.

Oh. Probably too fast. He slows down. A… I… M. He shakes his hand again. “Not sure,” he whispers.

Barnes nods, before flexing his metal wrist sharply. The rope around that hand falls limp, and he’s able to pull the other loop loose soon pretty easily. Then, he’s bending over and sliding the metal plates of his fingers roughly against the ropes around his shins once, twice, three times, and then the rope splits and falls. Clint nods, impressed. He wishes he had a metal arm, not for the first time.

Then, Barnes is behind him. Now he can actually get in a decent position to use the full strength of his arms, and he easily grabs the rope between Clint’s wrists and yanks, and the rope just completely snaps.

That was hot, Clint thinks, and Barnes pauses mid-step as he’s making his way around to Clint’s front, his eyes darting towards him. Aw, mouth.

“Wow,” Clint says. “Did you hear someone say something? I did not,” he says.

Barnes just purses his lips before shaking his head, looking slightly amused. He crouches down and quickly rips the rope around Clint’s ankles, and all of it is way faster than Clint could’ve done. That metal arm is awesome, man.

Barnes taps his own shoulder, standing to his feet. He’s looking at Clint with concern.

“Fine,” Clint says, tapping his thumb to his chest, even though his shoulder is definitely throbbing like hell and probably bleeding too much.

Barnes gives him a look that tells him just how much he believes that, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he just gestures to his head, tapping his indexes together, his eyebrows raised.

“That’s fine, too,” Clint says, tapping his chest again. He stands, moving towards the door, ignoring Barnes’s disbelieving glare. At least Clint’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a concussion. If he does, it’s a teensy-weensy one, so he’s good.

“Hear anything?” Clint asks, his eyebrows raised.

Barnes pauses, walking towards the door. He puts his hand against the wall, tilting his head towards it. After a few seconds, he finger-spells F-E-E-T, then meets his thumbs together before pushing his right one forward, angling to the right of the door. Footsteps, but they’re far away.

Clint throws his hands up toward the air, opening them. “How many?” he whispers.

Barnes holds up two fingers.

Okay, cool, this should be easy then. Clint crouches down, pulling a lock pick from his sock. He immediately starts jimmying the lock, and it doesn’t take long at all. Barnes taps the top of the lock when he hears it click, and then puts his hand on the handle.

He lifts his metal hand. Three, two, one .

The door slams open, bouncing off what is presumably an AIM agent. Clint immediately darts around the door, using Barnes’s arm as cover. He grabs the gun off the agent, along with a couple clips and a knife. With a flick of the wrist, he flings the blade and it hits the other agent in his chest, dead-center.

He loots him, too, pulling out another gun and knife. He hands them off to Barnes, before retrieving his bloody knife from the dead body.

Clint barely has the word “which” out of his mouth when Barnes starts walking the way the agents came. Well, walking is a light word for the Winter Soldier Strut, but that’s not important.

They’ve only come across three more agents when they reach a staircase. Of course, that’s when lights start flashing. Briefly, Clint’s glad he doesn’t have his hearing aids.

They each break into a run, shooting down agents as soon as they appear. The staircase quickly becomes chaotic. Agents start spilling in from every story-- the two assassins are hitting the first floor below ground when even Clint can feel the noise coming from the gunfire. He feels a sharp pain explode in his thigh, but he doesn’t have time to worry about it.

In front of him, Barnes propels himself up onto the shoulders of an AIM agent. From there, he shoots down at least four agents coming at them from above, all while twisting his thighs around his mount’s neck. Barnes lands on his feet easily, even as the agent beneath him falls heavily.

Clint takes the open opportunity and dashes up the steps, using his good shoulder to burst through the first-level door.

The door bursts open, and Clint immediately fires down any agent in sight. He distantly feels a dull pain in his shoulder, but it’s probably just a little bruised-- he’s had far worse. He pulls up his gun and takes down another agent as he sprints down the hall. He spots a sign pointing towards the exit-- maybe not the best idea for a place you plan on keeping captives?

It made it easy for Clint, though. He was already running-- a quick glance told him Barnes was following, so he didn’t slow down.

He rounds the corner, his feet going even faster as he sees the exit. Of course, that’s when half the doors in the hallway slam open, revealing a shit-ton of agents that are armed.

The archer takes down several of them, shooting down most and hurling his knife so it stabs one of them in the sternum. He clocks one in the jaw, knocking him over like a bowling pin, before kicking a charging agent directly in the chest.

Unfortunately, even if he can take them down while extremely outnumbered, it doesn’t stop him from taking hits. He gets a few punches to the face, along with a harsh kick to his side and a sharp pain that he’s sure is another shot in his leg. Still, he keeps going, and soon enough, he’s bursting through the door at the end of the hall.

It’s far brighter outside, even coming from the lit halls of the base, and Clint stumbles for a second as the light hits his eyes. He feels a hand grab his upper arm-- it’s his good one at least-- in a tight grip, and he’s being pulled along.

A glance to the side tells him it’s Barnes, so he’s okay. Clint steadies himself and quickly starts pulling his own weight. Barnes is running forward, but his body is half-turned to shoot down the agents chasing after them. A super-soldier is a hell of a lot faster than the agents, and Clint has enough adrenaline to keep up with him.

They navigate between the trees around them-- Clint can’t see another building anywhere. The upside, at least, is the agents trailing after them have been thinning. Clint estimates that they’re maybe a mile out by the time they realize that there isn’t anyone chasing after them anymore.

Of course, with that realization, Clint’s adrenaline starts on the decline, and he fumbles clumsily to the ground.

He braces himself with his arms, but that hurts like hell on his shoulder, which is… not feeling good. His entire body is not feeling good.

He feels a metal grip grab his not-shot shoulder and then he’s being roughly turned onto his back. He groans, and he forces himself to open his eyes. Barnes’s face is hovering above him, a crease between his brows. He signs roughly, tapping his indexes together, then waves one.

“Shoulder,” Clint says, “And leg. Two shoots. Shots.” He winces, reaching a hand up towards his shoulder, because it is throbbing in a nasty way.

Barnes bats it away, shaking his head. He lifts his hands as if to say something, but then he just shakes his head. With one quick motion, he tears off the sleeve of his jacket. He looks like a doofus, but Clint supposes he probably isn’t one to talk, what with being the proud new owner of two bullet holes and a stab wound.

Pretty quickly, Barnes ties the disembodied sleeve around Clint’s bloody shoulder. The pressure doesn’t feel great, but Clint knows it’s better than bleeding out all his shoulder guts. And hey, at least it’s not a tourniquet. Shit could be worse.

Next, Barnes rips off the sleeve of his shirt. Clint would give an appreciative whistle at those biceps if he wasn’t in so much pain. He ties up Clint’s thigh, then rips off one of Clint’s own sleeves to wrap around his calf. As he finishes up the knot, Clint mutters, “Is this kinky? It’s probably kinky.”

Barnes just swats his good leg.

“That’s kinky, too.”

Barnes stands up, and he walks near Clint’s head. He waves his arm, and Clint sees him say, “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Ugh. Can’t this just be my new home?”

Barnes just waves again.

Clint groans, but he puts his hands on the ground and pushes himself up. He stands, and he rolls his shoulder, regretting it immediately. “Ow.”

In front of him, Barnes simply signs, “Home.”

They start walking. It’s a little chilly, but he has other things to worry about. His wounds are definitely still bleeding, even if the ties help, so he tries not to apply too much pressure to his right leg, without making it seem too obvious.

Unfortunately, he’s so distracted by his pain and masking it, he doesn’t realize that Barnes is trying to sign to him. He feels a hard nudge on his good arm, and he looks up with a start.

Barnes is frowning at him, with his eyebrows furrowed in the same way they’ve been since they got kidnapped. Clint groans, stepping forward with what’s definitely too much pressure on his right foot, but he forces down a reaction. “S’rry. You were saying?”

Barnes’s fingers move quickly- he doesn’t know much, but at least he’s a quick finger-speller. How. You. L-O-S-E. A-I-D.

“The ‘how’ goes at the end, buddy,” Clint says. When he notices Barnes cast his eyes to the ground briefly, he immediately feels guilty. “It’s okay, though. Most of the others don’t even have it yet, ‘cept Tasha.”

“Sorry,” Barnes signs.

“S’chill. Besides, I’m not one to talk. I’m pretty stupid when it comes to regular, basic English.”

Barnes rolls his eyes, shaking his head, but then he repeats his question from before, this time using the correct grammar.

Clint shrugs, wincing as it aggravates his shoulder. “I dunno. It’s somewhere in my apartment, I think. If Lucky didn’t eat it.”

He freezes. “Lucky!” He twists around violently, throwing himself off balance. He stumbles for a moment, before two hands grip his waist and help him upright.

Barnes’s eyebrows are knit together, but Clint barely notices. His eyes are still darting around the forested space, as if there’s any way he can find his dog in wherever-the-fuck-they-are.

Barnes quickly moves in front of him. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know how long we’ve been gone! Lucky’s all alone in the apartment! What if something happens to him?”

He feels a feathery-light hand on his good shoulder, despite the hand being made of metal. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Barnes says. “We couldn’t have been gone for more than a day. I’m sure he’s fine.” The former-assassin places a hand on his own chest, taking in an exaggerated breath. “Come on, he’s fine.”

Clint tries to steady his own breathing, tries to shush the not-actually-there noise in his ears. “He’s fine.”

“Yeah. Worst case, he took a dump on the carpet.”

“I don’t got a carpet,” Clint mutters, shaking his head.

“Even better,” Barnes says. “You can clean it up real easy. Hey, and what’s to say that Kate girl hasn’t checked in?”

“Uh… I dunno,” Clint says, finally able to take an actual breath. “He’s fine.”

“Damn right he is.”

Clint shut his eyes for a moment, continuing his full breaths. Once he feels steady, he opens his eyes again. “Sorry,” he says, taking a couple steps back. “For being dumb.”

There’s a sharp flick on his arm, which seems unfair. “Hey, knock it off,” Barnes says, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Knock what off?” Clint asks, stepping forward, wincing as the pain in his leg gets a little louder.

“Callin’ yourself dumb. Stop that,” Barnes says, frowning.

Clint squints at him. “Wh- dude, I dropped out of school when I was like ten. It’s pretty safe to say I’m stupid. I know that, and it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Barnes says, and now his frown is getting into Angry Frown territory. “You’re not stupid, stop saying that shit about yourself.”

Clint pulls his head back, still squinting. “It’s fine, man, I know the truth-”

“Well, clearly not, because you’re spoutin’ lies-”

“I am not, and it’s not a big deal anyway-”

“It is if you believe it! You can’t just-”

“Be honest with myself? I deserve at least-”

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hits Clint like a club to the back of the head. He trips over his own feet, hands reaching out to catch himself. He feels hands grab at his torso, but he bats them away, feeling the acid fill his throat.

He lowers himself to the ground with the help of the hands bracing his body, but it doesn’t stop the jolt shooting through his shot-up leg. Before he can spout a warning, he feels the bile swell up. He quickly twists to the side, barely acknowledging the fire in his shoulder, as he retches. Nasty remnants of whatever was leftover in his stomach falls into the grass. He chokes and spits, his head bursting with pain with every movement.

He sits there for a second, a string of vomit hanging from his mouth to the ground, and he groans before coughing again, trying to get whatever’s left out.

Distantly, he feels a soft pressure on his back, but his head is pounding, so he can’t really pay any attention to it. He hacks a little, trying to clear the rest of the burning acid from his throat.

Finally, he rolls back so he’s sitting up. He still feels sick, but he doesn’t think there’s anything left. He blinks a few times, trying to get the spots out of his eyes. “S’rry.”

He feels another flick, and he blinks his eyes open. “Hm?” he says, feeling very gross and exhausted. His mouth tastes disgusting.

“Stop saying sorry,” Barnes says, and it’s a good thing he’s signing because Clint can not concentrate enough to read lips right now.

Clint feels like he should argue, but he is very tired. So instead, he just mumbles, “‘Kay.”

He shuts his eyes again for a moment, and then he feels a hand gently maneuver its way under his good arm. He gets the message and pushes down on the ground, using Barnes’s steady grip to slowly get to his feet.

He barely catches Barnes’s question of O-K? He nods, even though it hurts.

Now that he’s watching, Barnes signs out, “You have a C-O-N-C-U-S-S-I-O-N.” His eyebrows are raised, and he looks kinda annoyed.

Clint could make a sarcastic remark, it’d be really easy, but he guesses he probably should have listed that earlier while reciting his injuries. Instead, he barely nods.

“We’re going home soon,” Barnes says. “For now, you need to stay awake.”

Clint knows the rules of concussions. He waves Barnes off. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, and his throat is still burning and gross. “How soon, do you think?” he asks.

“I bet you they’re just a few minutes out. You know how pissed Nat gets when you go missing,” Barnes says.

“Says you, Mr. Cap’n-America-followed-me-even when-I...was-a-Terminator,” Clint says, and his words kind of trail off into nonsensical mumbles, and even he can realize that without hearing it.

“Then we have even better chances,” Barnes says.

“Good,” Clint says, and he squeezes his eyes shut as a sudden wave of nausea passes through him. He pauses, waiting for it to pass. When it does, he opens his eyes to see a pair of concerned gray ones. Clint blows through his mouth, before nodding determinedly. “‘Kay. Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?” Barnes asks. “We can stay here. When I hear the quinjet, I’ll fire a shot.”

“You don’t got a flare gun,” Clint argues.

“So? JARVIS will sense it, if Steve doesn’t hear it first. We’re stayin’ here.”

Clint sighs. “Fine. Can we sit back down then?”

Barnes helps him to the ground again, this time against a tree. He sits down across from him, tucking a knee to his chest. He locks an arm around the knee, before tilting his head towards Clint. “Tell me about this apartment of yours.”

“Why?” Clint asks, leaning his head against the tree. Barnes snaps his fingers at him, so Clint sits up again.

“To make sure you stay awake, dumbass. Go on,” the ex-soldier says.

Clint rolls his eyes for a moment, before letting his head roll to the side. “I dunno. I share it with Kate, but only kind of. She just comes in every few days to make sure I’m not dead or bouncing off the walls.”

Barnes just nods, so he continues.

“And then I have Lucky. I got him from the same guys I took the building from. Some Russian guys who were shitty dudes. They’d broken his leg, so obviously I made sure that wouldn’t happen again. And I also now own an apartment building, which kinda sucks, because I don’t know how to do any of the things a landlord is supposed to. Like I dunno how to fix leaky sinks or adjust the AC. I kinda just go off YouTube videos.”

Barnes shrugs. “Whatever works,” he says.

“I guess,” Clint says. “We have barbecues sometimes. I think half the building actually thinks my name is Hawk guy, which is a thing, I guess.” He pouts.

Barnes cracks a grin, and Clint realizes he’s laughing.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says. “Mr. Weiner Soldier.”

Bucky quickly stops, fixing Clint with the stink eye. “That doesn’t count. That’s just Sam.”

“It counts,” Clint argues. “Anyway, the other half of the building don’t actually think I’m an Avenger, so.”

“Do they not watch the news?” Barnes asks.

“They’re all old and pretty blind, so it’s a possibility. That or they’re messing with me,” Clint ponders. He squinted at a random patch of grass. “I think that might actually be the case,” he says.

Barnes grins again. “So what’s Lucky like?” he asks.

Clint then details all of Lucky’s quirks. He talks about the way the dog used to try to attack the door whenever someone knocked. He talks about the time he found a half-chewed hearing aid under the coffee table, which is why he’s so willing to blame him this time. He talks about Lucky’s infatuation with pizza, and he talks about the time Lucky once saved him from the Russian mafia. He has to pause a few times to get his head to stop hurting and for his shoulder to be more bearable, but Barnes is patient. Come to think of it, after all this, Clint figures he should probably stop calling the guy by his last name.

His voice feels raw (although that’s possibly due to the earlier puking) by the time he notices Bucky suddenly straighten up, his eyes darting towards the sky.

“Our saviors?” Clint asks, his arms moving sluggishly.

Bucky nods, before slipping his gun into shooting position. He fires a shot towards the sky, and Clint can feel it.

The archer shakes his head, but he can’t help the corner of his mouth that’s creeping up. “S’not a flare.”

Bucky smirks, and he flicks a finger towards the sky. Not thirty seconds later, Clint can see leaves begin to flutter off the ground. He glances back, and Bucky quirks an eyebrow. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Clint rolled his eyes, and he tries to ignore the way it makes his head pulse. He doesn’t think he did a great job, though, given the way Bucky frowns.

The assassin budges over so he’s next to Clint, and he worms an arm around his torso. He pats Clint once, a clear signal of “let’s go,” so the archer takes a deep breath. He lets his own arm grab at Bucky’s, fingers gripping tight at the metal plates. He feels himself grunt as they push themselves up. The pain in his legs flare up, but he just digs his teeth into his lip and pushes past it.

Finally, he’s at least at his full height, but his legs and his arm (not to mention his head) are screaming. Now that he knows help is close, everything is suddenly feeling a helluva lot worse.

Clint feels Bucky tense weirdly, and he glances over to realize that he’s shouting. He squints, catching a glimpse of “Steve!”

He glances in the direction he’s yelling at, and in just a few seconds, he sees a flash of red and gold.

The Iron Man suit zooms into view. Clint feels the body next to him tense a few more times as Tony lands.

He sees a quick “What happened?” and as the faceplate retracts, Clint can see the frantic look on his face.

Clint taps a thumb to his chest, but Tony immediately gives a mechanical, yet fluid, “Bullshit.” He visibly sighs, shaking his head, but then he says, “But we’ll talk about that later.” Clint sees him glance down before saying to Steve, presumably, into the comms. “Hawkeye’s hurt.”

He looks up again, and he taps his indexes together, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Two bullets in the leg,” he says. “And I got stabbed in the shoulder.”

He feels Bucky start talking, and he looks over to see him add, “Concussion, too.”

Clint sees Tony mutter a shit, but he doesn’t catch much else because then he’s glancing over the armored shoulder as he sees a figure clad in red, white, and blue emerge from the trees, dashing at full speed.

“Hey, Mom,” Clint calls, then immediately regrets it as he feels his brain beat itself up.

Cap starts slowing down as he reaches Tony, but he still hurries to Clint's other side.

Clint feels Cap tuck an arm under his bad shoulder, and he bites back a string of curses. He tastes copper, but he tries to ignore it. “Home now?” he asks.

In front of him, Tony nods. “Yes,” he signs. “We’re going home. Bruce is gonna start patching you up on the quinjet, but you’re going straight to medical once we land.”

Normally, Clint would argue, but his shoulder and his everything are screaming a bit too much for him to complain. So he just nods, slumping his head forward.

Together, Bucky and Steve take a step forward, and Clint’s feet more or less drag across the grass. He can’t feel much besides the pain, but he can tell that the super-soldiers are talking to each other.

“Man,” Clint says, and he has no idea how the words are coming out. “If all I needed to… get in on a super-soldier sandwich was... get shot a bunch, I woulda done it ages ago.” He feels a metal flick against his side, which, rude.

He thinks he might’ve dissociated for a little, as the next thing he knows, they’re edging up the ramp to the quinjet.

“Oh, we’re here,” he mutters, and he sees Bruce rushing down towards them. He might be imagining it, he’s not exactly fully lucid, but he thinks he sees a tinge of green in the scientist’s face.

He watches, as they slowly make it up, Bruce say some things to one of the super-soldiers. He feels one of them respond, but he doesn’t bother trying to see whatever they’re saying. Once they’re actually onboard, he starts being led towards a cot.

Once he’s settled, Bucky and Steve finally pull away.

Bruce begins prodding at his leg, so Clint quickly looks away. He sees a glimpse of Tony back at the controls, but more importantly, he sees Natasha moving towards him.

He rolls his eyes towards Bucky. “She’s gon’ kill me,” he says. “She’s gonna… like, murder me.”

Bucky cracks a grin, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Kick your ass? Maybe.”

Clint glares at him, and he lifts a tired arm enough to hit his chin with a sharp B. Bucky just gives him a cheeky smile before he’s suddenly shoved aside.

“Dumbass!” Natasha signs, giving him his least favorite Murder Glare.

“I didn’t choose this. You should be feeling sorry for me. Get me- oh, God, fuck, fuck, fuck- Banner, what the fucking fuck are you doing?” he grits out, glaring at the scientist.

Bruce simply smiles apologetically, holding up a bullet with a pair of tweezers. “Sorry,” he signs, but it’s kinda gross because he has some blood on his gloves. “If I could do this painlessly, I would.”

“Yeah, fuck off,” Clint grumbles, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. As he does, he feels the quinjet become to take off, more in his stomach than anything else.

“Ugh,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing at the edge of the cot. “Stark, I’mma fuckin’ kick your ass.”

Obviously, he doesn’t hear a response, but he doesn’t care. He’s a little busy trying not to barf again. “I hate… so much,” he grumbles.

This time, it’s a sympathetic pat on his good shoulder, and he can feel that it’s metal. For some reason, it helps.

Finally, he feels the quinjet stabilize, and he lets out a slow sigh. “C’n I sleep now?” he asks, blinking his eyes open.

Bruce moves away from his leg, grabbing one of his tiny flashlights from the extensive first aid kit. He flicks it on and points it in Clint’s eyes.

The archer flinches, but he tries not to blink too much, looking a little to the left of the light itself. Then, the light’s gone, and Bruce pats hits shoulder. “You should be fine. The ride back isn’t too long anyway, so we’ll be waking you up soon enough,” he signs.

“Ugh,” Clint says, but he shuts his eyes again. He feels Bruce begin to dig again for the other bullet, and it sucks , but soon enough, he feels himself start to drift.

Clint wakes up to the very familiar smell of dog breath.

He blinks his eyes open, grinning as he sees Lucky’s panting face inches from his. “Hey, buddy,” he says, grinning widely, and he reaches a hand up to pet him. However, he immediately feels that his shoulder is very restricted, and he puts together where he is.

“Huh,” he says, tilting his head at Lucky. “You’re not supposed to be in medical.”

He feels a nudge in his side, and he looks up to see Bucky grinning at him. He extends a hand, and Clint’s eyes widen when he spots the purple hearing aids lying on his palm. He reaches over Lucky and grabs them, immediately placing them in his ears, carefully clicking them on.

He quickly starts to hear the monotone beeping next to him, along with Lucky’s panting breaths. His smile widens as he lifts his good arm to scratch at his dog’s ears, and Lucky grins and starts trying to get closer, lapping at his face.

He hears a chuckle, so Clint glances up to look at Bucky. The man has a soft look on his face, one he doesn’t see very often.

“Where’d you find them?” the archer asks, pointing at his ear.

“Kate came in after Natasha called her. She said she found them wedged between your nightstand and the wall,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on,” Clint whines, sinking back into his pillow. Lucky, of course, follows, so Clint can’t frown for long. “How did you guys get him in here?” he asks. “Because I’m sure he’s not actually allowed.”

Bucky shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The docs might generally be used to our shit, but when the Black Widow gives puppy dog eyes, it’s kind of terrifying in a very strange way.”

Clint squints, trying to think of what that would look like, but he reckons that he’s probably better off without figuring it out. Instead, he decides to assess the damage that’s been strewn across his body.

His legs are both bandaged up, he can see that much past the hospital gown. When he cranes his neck, he can see that his shoulder is also wrapped, his forearm lying beside him. He also sees an IV next to him, filled what he assumes is antibiotics or maybe painkillers. Actually, given the distinct lack of pain he’s feeling, he’s very willing to bet it’s painkillers.

He grins up at Bucky. “I’m on the good stuff, aren’t I?” he says. “The good good stuff?”

Bucky snorts out a laugh, before nodding. “Yeah, you are. You’re also stuck here for another two days.”

The grin immediately falls off Clint’s face. “No,” he whines. “I hate it here.”

“You got your dog, what else do you need?” Bucky teases, giving Lucky a quick pat on his belly, which apparently rocks his world because the dog immediately perks up, lifting his legs away from his stomach for more. Bucky, obviously, obliges.

“You’re a traitor, Luck. A traitor,” Clint grumbles, but he gives him scritches anyway. He looks up at Bucky then, and he gives him a glare. “And for your information, coffee. And pizza,” he says.

“No coffee,” says the super-soldier, “But I’ll see what I can do about the pizza.”

“Good,” Clint mutters. “When’s debrief?”

Bucky waves him off. “Already done.” Clint clearly makes a face, because he continues, “You and I were together the whole time, and I was awake longer anyway. You can give Steve more details later, but you don’t got to sit in a conference room for an hour this time around.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Clint says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “You’re welcome. As a return favor…”

Clint pouts, turning his head to glare, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What?”

Bucky grins innocently. “I get to walk your dog at least once. I’ve been staring at his adorable face for an hour.”

Clint’s face breaks into a smile, and he laughs, nodding. “Yeah, I can do that. Just make sure he pisses on Stark again,” he says, and he closes his eyes to the sound of delighted, and decidedly pretty, laughter.

[the-real-tc]

Review! Heartland Ep. 1205: Change of Heart

Almost a week later, and I finally have a chance to post about this.

Anyway, despite the tardy review, I really enjoyed this episode. The "A" story line involved Georgie desiring to re-unite an ex-trick rider with her horse. The kid is totally star-struck when Betty Thomas walks into Maggie's for lunch, because when she was on the Extreme Team, Georgie had seen seen videos of the lady's amazing skills. Unfortunately, Betty is in no mood for reminiscing, and in no mood for perky fangirls gushing over past exploits. She just wants to eat in peace, thank you very much. Wyatt wants to step in and play nice, hoping to butter up Bitter Betty. Unfortunately, he strikes out, too, and Betty leaves without eating. Unfortunately #3, Betty forgets her credit card on the table.

The "B" plot involves Luke coming over for what is supposed to be a brief visit, which turns into an overnight stay. Clint (good to see ya, Clint!) mumbles something about needing to arrange child-care for the boy that weekend since his mom evidently picked up some extra shifts at her job. (Raise your hand if that isn't raising a bunch of red flags.) We have yet to even see this phantom mother, though someone was peeking behind a curtain at Luke's home when Clint picked him up. So, while Ty and Amy are occupied with Luke, Baby Lyndy needs child-care of her own (plans for potty-training might need to be put on hold). Enter Jade, whose baby-sitting experience is nil, but hey, she's handled broncs; how hard could a toddler be? (Jade, your logic sucks, but in this case, you're lucky Lyndy is an easy charge.)

The "C" plot centers on Jack's frustration with Tim's continued presence at Heartland. Tim's stay was supposed to be "temporary", but Tim clearly has his own definition of the word, and it certainly doesn't match Jack's. They squabble over silly things like chores on the ranch (mending gates and menu items). The straw that finally breaks the camel's back is when Tim gets his paws on a bottle wine Lisa has just sent Jack. He uses the wine to soak cedar planks for a salmon dish he's preparing for dinner; Jack is livid when he finds the empty bottle. He lets Tim know the wine was being saved especially for his anniversary. Tim fires back that the real source of Jack's misery is that he's missing Lisa, and everybody knows it; Jack just won't admit it.

Side note: I know French wines can be bought anywhere in the world, but I thought it was made pretty clear earlier in the season Lisa was in Istanbul (not Constantinople! — or Paris, for that matter) this time. I guess Aunt Evelyn really did just want a travel buddy this time, eh? Turkey and France aren't that far away...

"A" plot: Georgie learns of Bitter Betty's tragic circumstances from Jack. Betty's husband, Frank, was killed in a car accident two years prior. She was forced to sell the farm: lock, stock, and barrel; Boots, her horse, had to be put up for auction. This hits home directly, since Georgie's own parents died in a car wreck, and she knows she'd be heartbroken if she were forced to give up Phoenix. She enlists Wyatt's help in tracking down Boots. To his credit, Wyatt goes along with her scheme, despite being brushed off when he suggests a "friend date" to go see a Godzilla retrospective (Adam recommended!) that weekend.

After many calls and dogged Internet research, they find Boots at a boarding facility. His new owner lives in a different province, and the horse's demeanour has suffered for it. It seems he doesn't like people getting near him much anymore. Georgie pleads with the manager to let her bring Boots to Heartland (Amy can fix him!). The sympathetic manager agrees to call the owner for permission, and in true Heartland fashion, this goes off without a hitch. Now to convince Bitter Betty to come... Thankfully, Wyatt has a trump card—well, a credit card—to help entice her. He returns Betty's plastic and they tell her all about how they've found her long-lost horse, and how wouldn't it be fabulous if she could see him again. Bitter Betty cracks a little, and she agrees to come to Heartland.

Georgie puts on a little trick-riding demo, and Betty noticeably perks up. She then gets in the saddle and performs some amazing tricks for everyone. In the end, she's ever-so-grateful for the chance to see Boots again. She apologizes for how she treated Georgie earlier; wants to know why she would go out of her way to find Boots. Georgie explains their common tragedies, and knows she would do anything to see Phoenix again if she were in Betty's shoes.

"B" plot: Luke can be described as defensive, skittish, protective, and secretive. Ty does his best to get the kid to trust him and open up to him, but doesn't make much progress. At one point, unable to reach his mom via text, Luke prepares to run away from Heartland back to his home. Ty catches him in time, but Luke clams up and ignores Ty. A little breakthrough occurs when Boots arrives. The old trick-riding horse seems to like the kid. Unfortunately, he overhears Georgie talking about how it's sad Boots can't be with Betty; how he has to go back to his home at the boarding facility. Luke misinterprets this to mean he's at a bad place. When everyone is bidding Betty bye-bye, Luke surreptitiously lets Boots run free.

"C" plot:Tim makes his move—off Heartland. But not before at least buying a new bottle of wine to replace the one he used for the salmon dinner. Jack isn't quite so sore about things, and seems to be regretting his words spoken in anger, but Tim knows he really has over-stayed his welcome. His plan? To get a fancy new motor home. Jack tells Tim he can't park it in the yard at Heartland; when he told him to "move out" he meant it. Tim tells Jack he hopes Lisa doesn't extend her time away, but if she does, he'd understand, because Jack's impossible to live with.

"A" plot: Amy and Georgie ride out to find the runaway Boots. Georgie tells Amy she understands a little why Luke let Boots go; she also doesn't want the horse to go back to the stable where no one really has a personal connection with him. Thankfully, Boots didn't get far. They bring him back to Heartland, and Georgie helps Luke join-up with the horse. Amy voices an idea to Ty: Luke has bonded with Boots, and it's not right for the horse to be at that boarding facility. If they buy Boots, it'll be another reason for the kid to come to Heartland. Ty agrees. Luke is thrilled to hear the news that Boots will be there whenever he visits.

On the side, Ty tells Clint he believes Luke is terrified of being separated from his mother.

"A" plot addendum: Georgie meets up with Wyatt with tickets to the Godzilla retrospective in hand. She acknowledges they still do make a great team, and she misses him. She wants this to be more than a "friend date", so it looks like these two are officially an "item" again.

"B" plot addendum: Jade's Adventures in Babysitting held a few moments of consternation for over-protective Ty (the "proof of life" texts made me laugh out loud, honestly). Lost in the mix was Ty and Amy's plan to potty-train Lyndy that weekend; Jade managed to get it done. The new parents actually offer Jade a full-time baby-sitting gig, but Jade is off to greener pastures: her latest medical appointment shows she is improving, and she now wants to take Tim up on his offer to mentor the younger students at the rodeo school. "C" plot addendum: Stumpy is letting Tim stay on a piece of his land. Jack goes to check out the new spot, making himself right at home in a lawn chair by the fire. He's even brought along some coffee and biscuits. Tim can't resist ribbing him, telling Jack he misses him. Which is probably true, but those two really can't live under the same roof or they'd probably end up killing each other again. (How many times has Jack has kicked Tim off Heartland?) Final thoughts: Lyndy's "I pee" comment wins, followed by the cheering potty. Looking forward to next episode!

[becausearrows]

Verse- Wolf

Clint Barton wasn’t always a werewolf. No, that would have been too simple. If he had been, he’d have ripped his father’s throat out and solved a lot of his early problems right away. But he wasn’t. It didn’t happen until he was already an Avenger. And in the dumbest way too. Trying to help someone. Of course it was when he was trying to help. She’d woken up while he was carrying her and panicked. Bit and scratched at him and then ran off. A month later, well, Clint should have known something bad would come from helping a stranger.

It wasn’t so bad really. He didn’t fight the change so he didn’t lose his mind. He also didn’t lean into it, so he didn’t lose his mind. Really, he wasn’t much of a wolf at all. Just a big dog. Lucky still liked him so that was good. And since he was still himself he could still break into the Avenger’s Tower despite his dog form.

Which is how he was found the first time. And the second. And every time after that. Clint learned fast how to shift into a dog form. A huge short haired golden mutt of a dog. As big as a Mastiff and mostly deaf. He eats most of what’s in the fridge, and lays across the entire couch. Often, he also goes and finds someone who’s working and puts his huge paws on their lap until they give in and pet him.

The only problem was if he got protective of someone in that form. Enough adrenaline or fear and he shifts into a Wolf. Even bigger than his dog form, still with golden coloring. All teeth and snarls and a need to protect his pack. Unable to fully hear people trying to calm him down. 

In this world, Clint knows about supernatural beings. The apartments he liberated and now run are full of not only humans, but other beings who also need someplace safe to be. He figured out quickly who was what. But as long as no one hurts anyone else, what does he care?

[shutthecawup-a]

          Lucky smells the air and struggles onto four paws before bolting across the room. Hardwood flooring breaks the dog’s momentum, claws slipping, sending him sliding on a sharp turn. Still, the mutt persists, scrambling to the door that had just creaked open. It is Lucky’s reaction that gives the identity away, only Scarlett ( and the pizza guy, sometimes ) is able to arouse the dog’s excitement that much. “Hey kiddo!” Clint hollers, dragging himself off the couch to lean bodily against the wall inside the entrance hallway. An amused twinkle dances in his eyes as he watches Lucky excitedly weave between his daughter’s legs.

— - ➸ ❨ @redheadarcher gave lucky some pets ❩

[banashee]

17 - Home alone

Clint is pacing back and forth in his apartment. He knows his steps must make at least a bit of noise, but he can't hear it.

When he wakes up that morning (early, way too early) he does so with a start and a strangled yelp on his lips which he is unable to hear then, too. His heart is beating too fast, and he's shaking, sweating. Slowly, he reaches out for his hearing aids on the bedside table, fumbles them in and switches them on. They pick up the low noises from the street, cars driving by, howling sirens. It helps him a little to come back to reality, to even out his breathing.

But then, glass is breaking and a man starts yelling down on the street, causing Clint to flinch violently and rip out his hearing aids again.

A low noise must be escaping his lips, and he's glad that no one is around to hear.

He almost flinches again when something is touching him, but it's soft and heavy on his back, and then a long wet tongue is affectionately slobbering all over his ear, and he can smell the dog treat breath near his nose. It's Lucky, and he relaxes a bit, stroking one of the paws that made its way around for him to reach.

Clint concentrates on the weight and the heartbeat on top of him, trying to calm down his breathing. The dog nudges him a little, as if to say, “I'm here, I'll help.”

When Clint manages to breathe better, he gently pushes Lucky off of him, but he keeps stroking his soft golden fur in the process, lets him lick his face and then Clint heads into the kitchen to give the dog his breakfast and to make some coffee for himself.

He doesn't remember the last time he's eaten something. When was the last neighbor BBQ again? Friday night, right? So that was roughly two days ago. He's not hungry.

Clint drinks another cup of black coffee, staring ahead on the wall by the breakfast bar. Now that he thinks about it, his last shower must have been a while ago, too. Too much work, too little energy.

He sighs and runs a hand through his shaggy blond hair – it feels greasy. He drinks another coffee and Lucky presses his head against his leg.

It takes him a while to get up and force himself into the bathroom.

Clint avoids the look into a mirror at all costs and slowly undresses himself. When he turns on the shower, he waits for it to get warm. His energy has left him by the time it does. He sits down on the edge of the bathtub for half an eternity, then shakes his head to get up and under the spray of water.

(Useless. Wasteful.)

Only, it's turned ice cold again by now. Clint curses all the way through washing up, getting it done as quickly as he possibly can, and by the time he's out and dressed again, his energy runs lower than before.

He ends up falling asleep sitting on the tile floor, head propped up against the bathtub behind him.

When he wakes again, he startles from a nightmare and he can already feel a wicked crick in the neck. Clint curses and pulls himself up from the floor. It hurts more than it should, but he steps out of the room.

All he wants is to curl up on the couch with Lucky and hope it'll get better on its own. But the dog isn't there. Instead, there is a short note taped to his kitchen table.

Hi Hawkeye,

Sorry I don't have more time, but you are in the shower right now, so. I'm out of town for a bit, Lucky is with me like we agreed. We'll be back soon, see ya!

Kate

it says in her handwriting. Clint blinks at it, confused. He must have forgotten about that. What day was it again? He checks his calendar on the wall, and yes, it says it right there.

He feels incredibly stupid, but he already misses Lucky. His day so far has been utter crap (let's be real, so have the last few months) and this ridiculously wonderful mutt really, really helps. But now he's gone, too.

Clint sighs unhappily. His phone lights up next to the note, and it's a message from Barney. Chances are that his brother is drunk off his ass right now, so Clint opens it cautiously. The text is full of typos and it proclaims how sorry he is for everything, that he misses him and loves him.

It leaves Clint numb and unfeeling, but later that day he spends about an hour crying over a fucking commercial, who knows what even for, but there is a happy, smiling family with your stereotypical 2.5 children and a big, cheerful dog.

Depression is strange like that.

Clint passes out on the couch, and when he wakes up, he has no idea what day it is – it's dark out, but his phone tells him that it's still the same shitty day, later in the evening. He scrubs his face with one hand, looks around him. There is something out of place on his kitchen counter. Something new. A bright blue plastic container. He frowns, gets up and steps closer. A small note sticks to the lid, and he reads through it.

Hi Clint,

This is leftover lasagna, enjoy. You were asleep when I came by, didn't want to wake you up.

I hope you're okay.

Simone

Bless Simone and her good heart. He makes a mental note to thank her later, and maybe bring something nice for the kids, too – they always appreciate it, and they do way too much for him, anyway.

There is a lump in his throat, and a gaping hole in his growling stomach. He puts the food in his microwave and eats dutifully. It makes him sick later, but that's okay. It's not Simone's fault that everything tastes like ash to him right now. If she asks, he'll lie and say it was great.

When he's done heaving into the toilet, he feels hick neck prickling, and the tell-tale panic in his guts.

He bolts out of the bathroom, stumbling with shaking legs, tremors in his hands, rushing through the apartment, searching every corner.

No one is there. No threat. Nothing.

He puts his hearing aids back in while his brain still runs crazy.

'You keep passing out when you can't even hear shit. Anyone could walk in at any time and you won't know. You're lucky it was only Kate and Simone earlier. You'll be useless kicking anyone's ass when they sneak in and overpower you! Stupid, weak! Waste of space!' His mind is screaming at him.

And Clint paces again, keeps shaking his head, trying to calm down his breathing.

His phone keeps ringing, but he ignores it. It turns over to voice mail, and it's Barney again. He's slurring badly, and he sounds like he might be on the verge of tears, as he begs Clint to call, he's so sorry. When Barney starts retching, the call ends abruptly and Clint closes his eyes, sliding down on the wall and stays seated on the dusty, wooden floor.

He wishes, his dog was here. But no one is around, so Clint manages to get up, go to the couch and curl up there, hugging a cushion close to his chest in an poor attempt to mimic company. He laughs out loud at that, but even to him it sounds sad and pathetic.

When he wakes up, the sun is high in the sky, so some amount of time must have passed. Also, his ears feel gross since he fell asleep with his aids in, but there wasn't anyone in his apartment, as far as he can tell. Clint want's to look on his phone, but it's dead.

He stares at the landline on the wall.

'Don't do it, it's not worth it!'

He gets up and steps closer.

'You're just lonely you idiot! Do. Not. Call. Your. Brother.'

But he does.

Barney picks up after a few rings, barking “What the fuck do you want?!” into the phone.

Ah, so he's sober today. Great.

“You called me first. And texted.” Clint replies flatly and Barney scoffs, “Bullshit!” and then he hangs up again.

It's like a punch in the guts. Just more painful. Clint doesn't know what he expected but he feels ('Stupid! Stupid! Useless!') and then he realizes that there are tears burning in his eyes.

Cursing, he hangs up violently enough for the phone to fall back down, but he doesn't care and just crawls back into bed.

He really wishes Lucky was here with him.

He sleeps restlessly, and with more than one panic attack interrupting him.

The next two days are so bad, that he can't even get out of bed.

Clint is in a constant state of questioning why he's even alive, shaking and clawing on the sheets, drenching them in sweat, tears and snot. It's probably a good thing he's too tired to do anything, or else he would have found some some sort of tool to end it.

He doesn't.

On the third day, he manages a shower and a cup of coffee with some dry crackers because his stomach is revolting by now.

Water. Would be a good idea, probably. So he forces himself to drink a bottle, too.

Then his pager sounds. Avengers Assemble, and so he suits up, packs his bow and heads to the rooftop, just in time for Iron Man to pick him up – literally. He swoops by and Clint holds on, long used to this way of transportation.

“Hey Clint.”

“Hey man. What are we going to shoot at?”

“Doombots. Again.”

“Aw. At least they're satisfying to blow up.”

“Sure are, once we know the latest shit update Doom gave those little fuckers. You look awful by the way, are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” but it comes out pressed and flat. He can't see Tony's face behind the helmet, but he just knows he gives him a look.

But then they're busy fighting annoying killer robots, and it's the most alive Clint has felt in weeks.

When all is said, done and wrapped up, he's being dragged along along to the tower for one of their “Yai, we live another day”-parties. Clint plasters a smile on his face and it feels awfully fake. It probably looks just as bad.

But Clint tries to keep up chatting with his team mates, putting up a happy appearance which he hopes can fool people at least a little bit. It probably doesn't work, because they're starting to hover.

“You okay?” they ask, and he nods, smiling just a little bit brighter, joking and claiming he's just a bit tired.

Clint leaves rather quickly, sneaking out of the tower as soon as he's got a chance.

Back home, he drops his cheerful facade because keeping it up is exhausting. He skips the shower, even though he knows he's going to hate himself for it later. What else is new.

Clint burrows into the couch and wakes up to Natasha sitting on his coffee table, calmly cleaning her guns.

“Hey, Nat.” he rasps, and she looks up.

“Hi. Anything you wanna talk about?” she asks lightly, but it doesn't fool him. She's worried.

“No.” he replies hoarsely, and forces himself upright.

“Go shower. I'll have food here when you're done.” she instructs, and it's easier to just obey. Nat gently squeezes his arm when he walks past her.

Shower. Get dressed. Walk back out. Face potentially uncomfortable talk. Great. He's got this.

Natasha has moved to his couch in the meantime, and when he sits down next to her, his leg keeps bouncing up and down. Clint doesn't say anything, just stares right ahead into nothingness. His vision gets foggy again, and he faintly notices that Natasha puts the cup of soup she was offering him on the table and folds herself down on the floor in front of him, running a gentle hand through his hair until he slowly leans forward, into her touch until they sit in an embrace.

It would be so easy to give in and let go, but he holds himself back. The human contact feels good, tho. It's been too long.

Still, he pulls away when he realizes that he's going to have a complete breakdown if Nat hugs him for any longer now. Clint manages to pull himself together, holding onto threads at this point.

“Don't lie to me right now. How not okay are you, Clint?” Natasha asks quietly.

“I don't know.” he shakes his head slightly.

He could tell her about days spent in bed, wanting to die but feeling too tired to actually get up and do something about it. Clint figures she knows or at least suspects that.

“Things are fuzzy right now. I'm... I don't know how to explain it. But I'll be fine, I'm always fine.”

He can only hope that this will be true – it's getting harder to actually be fine lately. Natasha looks at him with concern and something... soft in her eyes as she keeps her hands placed on his knees. She doesn't come closer since he's pulled away, but she refuses to leave him alone and he loves her for it.

“You don't have to be fine all the time. I'm here. You've got me, the team, Kate... We're all very much willing to help you, if you'll let us. But we don't know how.”

“Can you stay with me for a little bit?” he asks, too silently for his own hearing aids to pick up but Natasha nods.

“Of course.”

She sits back down next to him on the couch, handing him the now lukewarm cup of soup and a bottle of water. Then she turns on the TV, filling the room with something light and brainless. Natasha settles against him, letting him choose how much physical contact he wants. Clint puts an arm around her and rests his head on top of her bright red curls.

Some time later, the front door opens and a second later he's greeted by a lapful of dog, and Lucky excitedly slobbers all over him.

“Hey Pizza Dog.” he says softly, burying his hands in the soft, golden fur and he can't help the small smile.

Lucky looks up at him, tail wagging and his one eye fixed at his human with an open mouthed doggy smile on his big, fluffy face.

Kate follows, and flops down onto the couch on Clint's other side with a “Hey Hawkeye” and grins when she gets the same words back as a greeting.

Something eases in his chest, and Clint pulls her close, too.

“What's up with the sappiness?” she asks, half jokingly, taking in her friends appearance – pale, eye bags, too much stubble, lost weight.

“Deal with it, Katie.” he grumbles goodnaturedly and she huffs but squeezes him in a tight hug.

“Yeah, whatever. Missed you, too. Hi, Nat.”

Clint leans back. There is still the heavy darkness inside of his head, and he's not sure if or how or when he can get rid of that. Or at least get a better grip on it.

But right now, with two of his best friends by his side and with his beloved dog sprawled out on his lap, drooling all over his sleeve while he pushing hid head into his stomach in an attempt to get even closer, Clint thinks that this car crash life of his looks a lot more bearable again.

*+~

OK so I know I've posted part 16 last night and it's like 6:40 in the morning on the 17th where I am now, but in all honesty, this story is one of my, if not THE favourite of all the stories I've written for KeGo. So I'm kinda excited for it to see the world because I'm kinda, super proud of it? I hope you like it, too.

*+~

About the KeGo https://banashee.tumblr.com/post/189288814786/keep-going-december-kego

Also, go check out @bananaink she is the other mastermind behind KeGo  ♥

Go show her some love because she’s great ♥

Check out my AO3 while you’re at it ♥

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829720