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THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND SIXTEEN WILL OPEN ON TUESDAY THE 25TH.
ROUND FIFTEEN
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DISCUSSION POST
PROMPT FORMATTING:
Alphabetize pairings. They will be archived that way!
LIST OF REQUIRED WARNINGS: ableism, abuse, bestiality, bullying, ( Read more... )
The legs flailed out again, and this time as Clint tried to dodge, the buckled tarmac tripped him and he went crashing to the floor. Without thinking too hard, Peter jumped forwards, grabbing the back of Clint's shirt and pulling him back behind the cover of the car as he scrambled to get back on his feet.
"Did it get you?" Peter demanded, raising his voice to compete with the helicopter overhead.
A solid impact rocked the car, making them both flinch. "You alright?" Clint asked, more than likely not even hearing Peter's question. He didn't wait for a reply to his own, though, his eyes going up to the 'copter and a grin taking over his face. "Here's your Dad," he said, and it didn't make any sense, but when Peter looked up, he found Phil - still in the immaculate suit he'd left in that morning - rappelling out of the helicopter.
He was on them both the minute he had both feet on the tarmac, and before Peter had even had a chance to verbalise his 'What!?', he had spun away from the car and put two bullets in the creature, stopping its thrashing once and for all.
Peter just watched, feeling like his brain had stalled at the image of Phil with a gun and his suit, looking like every spy flick hero ever.
Phil picked up Clint's bow from the ground before he came back to them, eyes checking over every inch of Peter. He brushed glass out of Peter's hair with a smile, then gave him Clint's bow to hold while he dragged Clint to his unsteady feet. Peter stood, still staring, and now holding on to Clint's most precious thing while he watched Phil check over Clint in the same way. It was heavier than he'd expected, and the string felt like it was vibrating with tension.
"Where's your cane?" Phil asked, letting his voice be muffled by the helicopter instead of trying to shout, and letting Clint read his lips.
"In the car," Clint replied, letting go of Phil's arm and leaning back against the car. "Thanks for the assist." He was grinning like this was the best fun in the world, and Phil had a frown on his face like Clint was being an idiot. That, at least, was all bizarrely normal.
Phil stepped away around the car, and reappeared with Clint's cane and Peter's school bag. "Any chance you'll listen if I tell you to take cover? You're not driving this thing home," Phil patted the top of the battered car. The backdraft of the helicopter making another pass made the still-open passenger door creak, and the alien insect thing twitch.
"It's like you don't know me at all," Clint replied, taking his bow off Peter. It felt like he was giving up something important, so he picked up his bag from where Phil had dropped it at his feet, and put it over his shoulders, gripping the straps tightly for something to hold on to.
Phil glanced up at the helicopter, "You know I can't take you up, Clint. If I leave you with the scene, will you..."
"Sure," Clint grinned, hefting his bow. "We'll guard the alien mayfly."
"It's a crane fly," Phil objected. "Mayflies are..." He shook his head. "Well, it's alien, anyway."
Clint glanced up as the helicopter made another pass. "Do we know where they came from?"
Phil shook his head. "Debriefing later, Clint. I need to..." he pointed upwards.
Almost as one, they both looked back at Peter. It was slightly creepy, but Clint's next question was- "How are you doing?" which was normal enough. Peter wondered what his face looked like, whether Clint could see his jack-rabbiting heart rate. There was a broad grin that he couldn't seem to shift, however hard he tried to force his face serious, and his fingers were twitching for something to do. They were still waiting for an answer, and maybe Peter had waited too long to say anything because Clint was pushing away from the car and reaching a hand towards his shoulder, concern on his face like Peter was about to slide out of his skin or pass out or something.
"I'm fine!" he said, and then coughed on the manic edge, "Fine, I mean... Yeah." He cleared his throat and Phil shook his head.
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