She doesn’t mean to do it, but the season always makes her nostalgic. It makes her pull out her worn copy of Anna Karenina, open the back of the cover and pull out the worn but unfaded photos of days long since passed. A brief simpler time really, though the one photograph makes her wonder how simple it all truly was. She likes Christmas, she likes winter, but it’s a bittersweet thing. There’s so much emotion and things like family and loved ones attached to the season that it hurts in a way that not many can understand. Still, despite that she’s festive. Music playing from her stereo, lights haloing her windows and a fake tree that she’s working on decorating. Also the little Russian doll style Nativity that Clint got her one year occupying her mantle. Her sofa has shoe boxes of various ornaments on it, tinsel is piled on a chair and she’s bare foot, in sweats and a t shirt with something on it about how being naughty is more fun than nice.
It all seems like a typical scene except for the fact it’s late at night and most of the rest of the world is sleeping. She can’t. She had tried, but her mind was cruel to her, flashes of Christmases long since passed. Fleeting moments of momentary happiness, but there’s always the question of their reality. Did it really happen or did They make her believe it did? It’s troubling, it’s depressing and it drives her to while she’s decking the halls to sip Vodka straight from the bottle.
She’s humming along with Rosemary Clooney singing Suzie Snowflake when she realizes that maybe being alone isn’t such a good idea right now. That maybe she doesn’t want to be alone, but who to call? She picks up her cellphone, scrolls through her contacts and knows that Clint is on a mission at current and so that leaves Phil. Instead of calling, given the hour she texts [Are you busy?], sits the phone down and waits. While she waits, she settles on her sofa and begins to string popcorn.
Phil opened his eyes when his phone buzzed. He was lying awake anyway, counting his breathing while Tony sleeps around him like a human octopus (all limbs and clingy, no decorum). Phil has an arm not occupied though so he’s able to reach and grab his phone, adjusting slightly to be able to text while Tony sleeps on against him.
He has to smile when it’s Natasha.
[Text]: Define ‘busy’.
[Text]: I’m wide awake, but I’m being used as a body pillow.
|"Oi! Coulson! Where's Barton?" ~natashawidowmakerromanoff|
She smiled. “Yeah… Ugh, I guess I’ll take Barton… Bruce’d probably Hulk up and I am not eager to ever see that again.”
"In his nest watching Dog Cops and eating gummi bears last I saw."
"Well, if no one wants to take you out and you don’t desire to go alone, I’ll accompany you." Phil offered. "It wasn’t my intent, buying you these things. But I know some good restaurants and high-class bars, and I can ballroom dance. So, if you need a final option, I volunteer."
And here we see Hawkeye, undercover and shooting a gun but still instinctively pulling a bowstring.
#I think you mean #here we see Hawkeye#using whatever he can to save himself from killing Maria Hill#don’t tell me Clint didn’t try and fight that any way he could#because she may be a hardass but she’s his hardass#and he may not be strong enough to just shake off that brainwashing#who would be after all?#but maybe he can let his muscle memory work in his favour#maybe he can pull like a bow instead of shoot like a gun#it’s enough to cause those bullets to miss #as if he’d miss if he really wanted to hit#greatest marksman on the planet and all#but if he thinks really hard about using his bow#well he’s still technically trying to kill Maria Hill#he’s still doing what that azure blue poison is telling him to do #but he’s still failing#don’t tell me he doesn’t know what he’s doing #he knows what he’s doing#he’s saving the woman who made him#shut up I have a lot of headcanons and feelings and ships (via starling-girl)
And sometimes I get rightly served. Observe as my snark gets slapped down.
Also this was a mod fuckup, seeing Aaron Cross for some reason. I’ll be over here in a dunce cap if you need me.
Tony made a please noise at the touch, leaning into it. It only took minutes for him to slip into a proper state of sleep, the sensation of fingers carding through his hair being the perfect remedy to lull him off to dreamland. As usual his sleep didnt last long, a few hours before he began muttering and twitching in his sleep with a whine. His dreams, flashbacks on the night in new york and the wormhole. “Sir, you are safe” Jarvis voice rang around them in the dark. Jarvis resisted touching Tony in his sleep, last time the male had clear off pulled his hand out of socket ruining several joints and leaving his android body under maintenance for a week. “It is alright Sir” Jarvis tried once more, reading tonys vitals.
Phil stayed, ending up dozing sitting up on the bed, hand still curled into Tony’s hair. When Jarvis spoke he gasped and woke up, having to take several seconds to get his bearings before remembering what was happening, pushing a hand to his chest and swallowing.
Once he was fully awake and aware, he focused back on Tony, combing through his hair again with gentle fingers. “Tony. You’re safe in bed.” He murmured, shifting so he can bring his other hand around, rubbing little circles between Tony’s shoulder blades.
((Oh the gems I find when I dig through the different prompts I’ve screencapped from back before I went on my hiatus.))
Tony gave a weak nod, settling into the pillow. “Stay.” He mumbled, eyes falling shut from the sheer exhaustion he was undergoing. He couldn’t fight sleep, not when he was lying in his bed.
“if you wish to help Sir sleep calmly, i suggest toying with his hair. He seems quite fond of the described action according to past data.” Jarvis shot a text to Phil’s phone, not wanting to wake his creator who was barley falling into sleep.
Phil looked at his phone then at Tony, thoughtful.
Tony wanted him to stay as he slept. Jarvis wanted him to stay. This wasn’t a situation he ever intended to get into, but here he is. He just hopes Tony doesn’t take it the wrong way when he wakes up.
His shoes are already off, so he pulled his tie loose and undid a few buttons of his shirt, setting it aside with his jacket. He also pulled his belt free and left it coiled with his gun holster on the corner of the bed. That done he crawled up on the bed and moved a few pillows, sitting against the headboard and carefully threading a hand into Tony’s hair, starting to stroke through it.
|"Do I know you?"|
The younger let out a whine and pressed closer to Phil when both arms were wrapped around him. Clint was still shaking and his breathing was still erratic. He suddenly felt physically and emotionally drained even though he hadn’t been awake that long. Sagging against Phil he let the older support more of his weight.
Holy shit. Phil went still, staring at Clint and swallowing slowly.
"You used to." Is all he can say, feeling absolutely helpless and like ice to his very core.
"Are you remembering everything?" Phil asked uncertainly, lifting a hand to card through Clint’s hair, supporting his weight easily. "I’m right here, love. Let’s sit down okay?" He carefully moved them toward the couch, pressing a kiss to Clint’s temple as they shifted.
I don’t think I worked through my crus on Jeremy Renner….relapse! Once I think I’m out he pulls me back in.