Fic: Tentacles
Title: Tentacles
Fandom: Iron Man/Thor/Captain America/Avengers (AVENGERS AVENGERS OMG 29 HOURS LEEEEEEEFT)/Marvel
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.
Summary: "Well that's... odd," Phil mutters, staring up at the twenty-story monstrosity of writhing tentacles and gooey slime with an expression bordering between bemusement and the mildest of oh-snap-forgot-a-pen concern.
Note: scrapbullet said "I demand you write more Coulson, please. Idgaf if it's gen, het, slash or HO SHIT CAUGHT BY A GIANT TENTACLE MONSTER I just demand it :D". thatsleon said "seconding the demand for more coulson. especially with giant tentacle monster". spazzer_mctwich said "Do it! that is exactly how he would react". I AIM TO PLEASE. <3 Also, obviously, I aim to ship mah bbs Tony and Coulson for forever.
Tentacles
"Well that's... odd," Phil mutters, staring up at the twenty-story monstrosity of writhing tentacles and gooey slime with an expression bordering between bemusement and the mildest of oh-snap-forgot-a-pen concern.
"Coulson, get the hell out of here!" Hawkeye yells, sprinting past as he puts another arrow to his bow.
"Yes, Agent Coulson, I really don't think it's safe for you to be here," Captain America says, pausing to hold up his shield and deflect the tentacle that was about to pick Phil up, then continuing away.
With a shrug, Phil walks leisurely behind a building, then stands there, peeking out. It really isn't like anything they've ever fought. There's no supervillain directing the battle, no active destruction going on. The thing just appears to be oozing through the city, minding its own business, unaware of the terrified pedestrians and stranded cars stuck in the path of its viscous bulk.
"Coulson!" a mechanically echoing voice barks behind him. Phil turns, refusing to admit that he was startled by that one. "Get the fuck out of here! Haven't you ever heard of tentacle sex?"
Phil lets out a delicate snort. "Really, Stark? You know that kind of thing only happens in those comics you read, right?"
Stark grabs Phil around the waist, jerking him into the air as a tentacle smacks wetly into the ground where they were a moment before. He flies them to safety, landing in a small park a few blocks away from the menace, and opens his faceplate to reveal a cut lip that looks like it's been bleeding for a while. "I don't know about you, Coulson, but I prefer not to take any chances with my anus." He licks the blood, wrinkling his nose. "Got a handkerchief or anything, think you could clean me up? I think I breathed some of it earlier."
Shaking his head, Phil pulls a crisp white handkerchief, neatly pressed, from his pocket. "Weren't you going to modify the helmet so this would stop happening?" he asks, leaning forward to wipe Stark's lip.
Stark winces as the fabric catches on the drying blood. "I got distracted."
Phil frowns at the dirty handkerchief before dropping it to the ground with a sigh, deciding it's probably not worth the trouble of trying to clean it. "You, distracted? I never would have guessed that."
"Would you two stop flirting and goddamn help us already?!" Clint shouts in passing. Phil twitches the tiniest bit. He actually almost forgot the monster for a moment there. Stark winks at him, grinning, as the mask snaps shut. Wondering why the hell these things always seem to happen when Natasha is out of town, Phil takes off at a sprint, getting out of the monster's immediate path. He thinks he's past it, no problem, and is just pausing to take stock of his situation, when a tentacle comes down from directly above him and wraps awkwardly around him, pinning his arms to his sides.
For some stupid reason, the first thought that passes through Phil's mind as he's lifted into the air, legs kicking furiously, is, Hope Stark was wrong about the tentacle sex. His second thought is, Ow oh holy fuck that hurts, because the tentacle is squeezing, and his ribs weren't really designed for this. As the breath is squeezed out of his lungs, Phil's head becomes a little fuzzy, and it takes him a moment to figure out that that weird tingling coming through the tentacle probably has to do with the fact that Thor just sped past. All that happens, though, is that the tentacle squeezes a little more tightly. Phil is vaguely aware of trying to shout in pain, but all that comes out is a strangled little sound that uses even more of his air.
Something suddenly collides with him, and Phil grunts loudly even as someone says, "Sorry," in a hurried, breathless voice. Gauntleted hands are between him and the tentacle, pulling, scooping, and it's only a moment before the tentacle melts back around Phil's body, but that's long enough for him to suck in an enormous gulp of air. The spots dancing in his vision clear, and he realizes it's Stark, pulling again, trying to get the monster to let Phil go.
"Hey," Phil says, and when he remembers this part later he'll tell himself it was the oxygen deprivation.
"Hey," Stark replies, and even as another tentacle begins to slip around Stark's armor, Phil could swear he hears the grin in the echoing voice.
"Got any other ideas?" Phil asks, already feeling his ribs begin to ache again.
Stark's boots flare, hot against the slime. It melts at the contact, and the monster lets out a bellowing shriek as Stark hovers a few inches above the tentacle. "Got one idea," he says. He moves lower, until he's face-to-mask-covered-face with Phil. "You trust me?"
Growing dizzy again, Phil laughs. "Marginally."
Stark's hands fire repulsor beams into the goo on either side of Phil, who winces at the feel of heated slime against his clothes. Stark's arms plunge in after that, encircling Phil, and his boots fire again, slowly lifting the two of them (and a substantial amount of the tentacle) away from the monster. There's a moment where Phil just can't breath, and he feels like maybe his legs will stay behind, and then they're free, and Phil is gasping for air, and the bits of goo that came away with them are dribbling down between them to the ground. He's clinging to Stark, but he doesn't particularly care right now, and the wind is whipping past them with the smell of a storm.
This time Stark doesn't take any chances, setting Phil down on a parking deck a good three miles from the chaos. When his legs touch the pavement, Phil tries to straighten up, but his knees buckle, and he nearly falls to the ground. Only Stark's hand, still wrapped casually around his waist, keeps him up. "Whoa there, take it easy," Stark says. He eases Phil into a sitting position on the ground (despite some grumbling from Phil on the matter) and pokes and prods at Phil's ribs until he's satisfied the other man won't suddenly keel over. Then there's an odd moment, when he and Phil just look at each other. Neither says a word, but somehow the moment feels important.
The crash of a car being thrown across the street directs their attention back towards the monster. Clint is still firing arrows uselessly into its center, Steve and his shield keep hurtling into the thing, and Thor is barely visible, the thunderclouds above the scene slowly merging with the natural storm blowing in from over the water. "Well," Stark says, mask closing again, "duty calls." He steps away from Phil, about to rejoin the battle, but Phil's hand on his gauntlet stops him.
"Thanks," Phil says, a little smile dancing around his lips, releasing Stark's hand as he speaks.
Phil can hear the smile in Stark's voice again. "No problem." And with a breeze that ruffles Phil's hair, Iron Man is off.
---
"Huh," Phil says, rain rolling down his face as he watches the monster make its panicked, shrieking way back to the ocean, followed sternly by the Avengers (well, most of the Avengers). "Fresh water. Who knew?"
The sound of boots clanking down onto the pavement next to him makes him turn. The mask opens, and Stark is shaking his head, rain slicking down his hair before Phil's eyes. "If we'd known it was that simple, we could've just used fire hoses on the damn thing."
Phil nods. "Mm, next time the local authorities will be able to handle it."
"Good," Stark says, taking off a gauntlet and using his now-bare hand to slick back his soaking hair. "I've had all the tentacles I care for." There's another moment then, where they're looking at each other, rain getting in their eyes and wind pushing at their bodies, and Phil distantly notes that his pulse is thudding in his ears. "Is this the part of the movie where we have a big dramatic kiss in the rain and the camera pans out?" Stark asks, eyebrows wiggling furiously.
Phil rolls his eyes. "Way to ruin the moment, Stark," he says, turning around to limp his way down to ground level.
"What?" Stark calls after him. "It seemed like the right moment!" Phil shakes his head as he makes his slow, bruised, painful way towards the stairs. He privately agrees with Stark.
He's also had enough of tentacles for a while.
Fandom: Iron Man/Thor/Captain America/Avengers (AVENGERS AVENGERS OMG 29 HOURS LEEEEEEEFT)/Marvel
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.
Summary: "Well that's... odd," Phil mutters, staring up at the twenty-story monstrosity of writhing tentacles and gooey slime with an expression bordering between bemusement and the mildest of oh-snap-forgot-a-pen concern.
Note: scrapbullet said "I demand you write more Coulson, please. Idgaf if it's gen, het, slash or HO SHIT CAUGHT BY A GIANT TENTACLE MONSTER I just demand it :D". thatsleon said "seconding the demand for more coulson. especially with giant tentacle monster". spazzer_mctwich said "Do it! that is exactly how he would react". I AIM TO PLEASE. <3 Also, obviously, I aim to ship mah bbs Tony and Coulson for forever.
Tentacles
"Well that's... odd," Phil mutters, staring up at the twenty-story monstrosity of writhing tentacles and gooey slime with an expression bordering between bemusement and the mildest of oh-snap-forgot-a-pen concern.
"Coulson, get the hell out of here!" Hawkeye yells, sprinting past as he puts another arrow to his bow.
"Yes, Agent Coulson, I really don't think it's safe for you to be here," Captain America says, pausing to hold up his shield and deflect the tentacle that was about to pick Phil up, then continuing away.
With a shrug, Phil walks leisurely behind a building, then stands there, peeking out. It really isn't like anything they've ever fought. There's no supervillain directing the battle, no active destruction going on. The thing just appears to be oozing through the city, minding its own business, unaware of the terrified pedestrians and stranded cars stuck in the path of its viscous bulk.
"Coulson!" a mechanically echoing voice barks behind him. Phil turns, refusing to admit that he was startled by that one. "Get the fuck out of here! Haven't you ever heard of tentacle sex?"
Phil lets out a delicate snort. "Really, Stark? You know that kind of thing only happens in those comics you read, right?"
Stark grabs Phil around the waist, jerking him into the air as a tentacle smacks wetly into the ground where they were a moment before. He flies them to safety, landing in a small park a few blocks away from the menace, and opens his faceplate to reveal a cut lip that looks like it's been bleeding for a while. "I don't know about you, Coulson, but I prefer not to take any chances with my anus." He licks the blood, wrinkling his nose. "Got a handkerchief or anything, think you could clean me up? I think I breathed some of it earlier."
Shaking his head, Phil pulls a crisp white handkerchief, neatly pressed, from his pocket. "Weren't you going to modify the helmet so this would stop happening?" he asks, leaning forward to wipe Stark's lip.
Stark winces as the fabric catches on the drying blood. "I got distracted."
Phil frowns at the dirty handkerchief before dropping it to the ground with a sigh, deciding it's probably not worth the trouble of trying to clean it. "You, distracted? I never would have guessed that."
"Would you two stop flirting and goddamn help us already?!" Clint shouts in passing. Phil twitches the tiniest bit. He actually almost forgot the monster for a moment there. Stark winks at him, grinning, as the mask snaps shut. Wondering why the hell these things always seem to happen when Natasha is out of town, Phil takes off at a sprint, getting out of the monster's immediate path. He thinks he's past it, no problem, and is just pausing to take stock of his situation, when a tentacle comes down from directly above him and wraps awkwardly around him, pinning his arms to his sides.
For some stupid reason, the first thought that passes through Phil's mind as he's lifted into the air, legs kicking furiously, is, Hope Stark was wrong about the tentacle sex. His second thought is, Ow oh holy fuck that hurts, because the tentacle is squeezing, and his ribs weren't really designed for this. As the breath is squeezed out of his lungs, Phil's head becomes a little fuzzy, and it takes him a moment to figure out that that weird tingling coming through the tentacle probably has to do with the fact that Thor just sped past. All that happens, though, is that the tentacle squeezes a little more tightly. Phil is vaguely aware of trying to shout in pain, but all that comes out is a strangled little sound that uses even more of his air.
Something suddenly collides with him, and Phil grunts loudly even as someone says, "Sorry," in a hurried, breathless voice. Gauntleted hands are between him and the tentacle, pulling, scooping, and it's only a moment before the tentacle melts back around Phil's body, but that's long enough for him to suck in an enormous gulp of air. The spots dancing in his vision clear, and he realizes it's Stark, pulling again, trying to get the monster to let Phil go.
"Hey," Phil says, and when he remembers this part later he'll tell himself it was the oxygen deprivation.
"Hey," Stark replies, and even as another tentacle begins to slip around Stark's armor, Phil could swear he hears the grin in the echoing voice.
"Got any other ideas?" Phil asks, already feeling his ribs begin to ache again.
Stark's boots flare, hot against the slime. It melts at the contact, and the monster lets out a bellowing shriek as Stark hovers a few inches above the tentacle. "Got one idea," he says. He moves lower, until he's face-to-mask-covered-face with Phil. "You trust me?"
Growing dizzy again, Phil laughs. "Marginally."
Stark's hands fire repulsor beams into the goo on either side of Phil, who winces at the feel of heated slime against his clothes. Stark's arms plunge in after that, encircling Phil, and his boots fire again, slowly lifting the two of them (and a substantial amount of the tentacle) away from the monster. There's a moment where Phil just can't breath, and he feels like maybe his legs will stay behind, and then they're free, and Phil is gasping for air, and the bits of goo that came away with them are dribbling down between them to the ground. He's clinging to Stark, but he doesn't particularly care right now, and the wind is whipping past them with the smell of a storm.
This time Stark doesn't take any chances, setting Phil down on a parking deck a good three miles from the chaos. When his legs touch the pavement, Phil tries to straighten up, but his knees buckle, and he nearly falls to the ground. Only Stark's hand, still wrapped casually around his waist, keeps him up. "Whoa there, take it easy," Stark says. He eases Phil into a sitting position on the ground (despite some grumbling from Phil on the matter) and pokes and prods at Phil's ribs until he's satisfied the other man won't suddenly keel over. Then there's an odd moment, when he and Phil just look at each other. Neither says a word, but somehow the moment feels important.
The crash of a car being thrown across the street directs their attention back towards the monster. Clint is still firing arrows uselessly into its center, Steve and his shield keep hurtling into the thing, and Thor is barely visible, the thunderclouds above the scene slowly merging with the natural storm blowing in from over the water. "Well," Stark says, mask closing again, "duty calls." He steps away from Phil, about to rejoin the battle, but Phil's hand on his gauntlet stops him.
"Thanks," Phil says, a little smile dancing around his lips, releasing Stark's hand as he speaks.
Phil can hear the smile in Stark's voice again. "No problem." And with a breeze that ruffles Phil's hair, Iron Man is off.
---
"Huh," Phil says, rain rolling down his face as he watches the monster make its panicked, shrieking way back to the ocean, followed sternly by the Avengers (well, most of the Avengers). "Fresh water. Who knew?"
The sound of boots clanking down onto the pavement next to him makes him turn. The mask opens, and Stark is shaking his head, rain slicking down his hair before Phil's eyes. "If we'd known it was that simple, we could've just used fire hoses on the damn thing."
Phil nods. "Mm, next time the local authorities will be able to handle it."
"Good," Stark says, taking off a gauntlet and using his now-bare hand to slick back his soaking hair. "I've had all the tentacles I care for." There's another moment then, where they're looking at each other, rain getting in their eyes and wind pushing at their bodies, and Phil distantly notes that his pulse is thudding in his ears. "Is this the part of the movie where we have a big dramatic kiss in the rain and the camera pans out?" Stark asks, eyebrows wiggling furiously.
Phil rolls his eyes. "Way to ruin the moment, Stark," he says, turning around to limp his way down to ground level.
"What?" Stark calls after him. "It seemed like the right moment!" Phil shakes his head as he makes his slow, bruised, painful way towards the stairs. He privately agrees with Stark.
He's also had enough of tentacles for a while.