They agreed early on after Phil convinced Clint to move off base and into his apartment, that after bad days-whatever that meant for either of them-there was no TV, no radio, no internet. No outside world, just the two of them.
When it was Phil having the bad day, Clint always made a run to the comic store before he came home. Cap was Phil's favorite, but that didn't mean he didn't read anything else. There was almost always a new run of something Phil would enjoy, that they could curl up on the couch and read together.
Of course, that was after Trivial Pursuit. Phil killed Clint at it, having a bizarre store of absolutely useless information atop all of his practical knowledge. Clint liked the way Phil would sometimes think carefully, his forehead wrinkling a bit, and sometimes just know, immediately, his fingers snapping.
On the days that were bad for Clint, they played darts, which Phil was passable at, but, well, Hawkeye. Phil would read Clint Hardy Boys books, because Clint liked how simple they were, how everything resolved itself at the end. Because it felt a little bit like stealing back time for himself.
No matter which one of them-or if it was both-was being pampered, they always went to bed early on those nights. Sometimes, if they weren’t injured, if it was what they both wanted, they would have slow, almost lazy sex. Most of the time, they just curled up in each other's space, touching, cuddling. Even on the nights with sex, it ended like that, the pure comfort of the other's body heat, the sound of his breath.
Wait, did you just apologize for giving me something late? Something you don't have to give at all? Something that took you time and effort and required NOTHING on my part? That makes no sense at all.
Back to loving story ::clutches it close and hums happily::
When it was Phil having the bad day, Clint always made a run to the comic store before he came home. Cap was Phil's favorite, but that didn't mean he didn't read anything else. There was almost always a new run of something Phil would enjoy, that they could curl up on the couch and read together.
Of course, that was after Trivial Pursuit. Phil killed Clint at it, having a bizarre store of absolutely useless information atop all of his practical knowledge. Clint liked the way Phil would sometimes think carefully, his forehead wrinkling a bit, and sometimes just know, immediately, his fingers snapping.
On the days that were bad for Clint, they played darts, which Phil was passable at, but, well, Hawkeye. Phil would read Clint Hardy Boys books, because Clint liked how simple they were, how everything resolved itself at the end. Because it felt a little bit like stealing back time for himself.
No matter which one of them-or if it was both-was being pampered, they always went to bed early on those nights. Sometimes, if they weren’t injured, if it was what they both wanted, they would have slow, almost lazy sex. Most of the time, they just curled up in each other's space, touching, cuddling. Even on the nights with sex, it ended like that, the pure comfort of the other's body heat, the sound of his breath.
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Back to loving story ::clutches it close and hums happily::
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