AVENGERS ASSEMBLE...AND MAKEOUT
Okay, so. With all the excitement that's been building over the last week or so, there seems to be an unreasonable amount of negativity coming along with it. And that just won't do! So here's what I propose:
♥an Avengers Kissing Meme♥
( Read more... )
♥an Avengers Kissing Meme♥
( Read more... )
The thing about Mardi Gras, Phil can’t help but think as he reholsters gun, is that it’s kind of an excellent place to stage a battle.
It’s loud, it’s chaotic, and the never-ending flurry of movement and sound can make even a bunch of costumed superheroes bringing down a costumed (definitely-bad-but-not-quite-bad-enough-to-be-super) villain seem uninteresting by comparison. You might not think it to look at him, but Phil’s always been a fan of blending in with the crowd. It’s just that most days, the people he works with tend to make that something of an impossibility.
As it turns out, even Tony Stark can’t outshine the lights of Mardi Gras, but as far as Phil can tell, Tony seems to be coping just fine with his newfound anonymity. Phil’s kneeling by the prisoner, double-checking his pulse rate and breathing because a knock to the head like that doesn’t do anyone any favours, and he finds himself standing just in time to watch Clint swing down from the ledge above their heads, grab Tony by the shoulders and pull him in for a great smacking kiss.
“That has got to be some kind of record. What was that, three hours? Two?” Clint’s grinning so wide Phil’s own cheeks are starting to ache in sympathy. “Getting sloppy there, Myers!” He drops his hold on Tony and moves to slap Thor on the back.
“And that is what you get, Frederick,” Tony turns, waving his hands at the guy at Phil’s feet with a kind of scornful exasperation. “I mean, boomerangs? Seriously? Hey, I know, you should get together with Hawkeye later. Talk about muskets. Sabres. Some other kind of completely not outdated weaponry--”
“Stark,” Phil interrupts before Tony can really get going. If he sounds short at all, it has nothing to do with him having a problem with Tony, because he doesn’t. Not anymore. Not like he used to. It’s just... he can’t... right now. He doesn’t want to hear it. “You can give it a rest. He’s out for the count.”
It doesn’t shut Tony up, but it’s enough to switch his focus, and they’re back to celebrating-Natasha smirking at Bruce, Tony teaching Thor how to fistbump, which Phil has a feeling will lead to more than a few jarred knuckles in all of their futures. And then there’s Clint, hoisting himself up onto Captain America’s back like a shield, wrapping around him until his arms are around Steve’s shoulders, legs around Steve’s waist, and he’s planting the noisiest kiss Phil’s ever heard against the corner of Steve’s mouth, right where his grin becomes a dimple.
Phil tightens his grip on his radio and calls in to Fury with their status.
~
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Phil shouldn’t let it get to him, except that it does.
And really, he’s been the one lecturing them all about group bonding and uniting as a team ever since there was a team to unite. He just... he’d been thinking more along the lines of some kind of movie night. Or maybe some Jenga.
More ‘800 Piece Puzzle time’ opening up team conversation, less ‘Clint’s mouth opening up for Thor’s tongue’.
Still, whatever it is they’re doing, it’s been working- they’ve been working-and Phil is not about to be the one who messes it up for them. Even when Clint’s particular brand of positive reinforcement tends to leave him grinding his teeth and smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in his tie until his jaw aches and his fingers cramp.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try some Jenga after all.
~
Jenga is vetoed in favour of Scrabble. Tony and Bruce play as a team against Natasha and Clint. Natasha plays XYST through Tony’s OXEN for the winning points.
Phil turns away, but he can still hear her nails scratching through the short hair at the back of Clint’s neck as she pulls him closer.
~
Phil mentions having one of the old SHIELD projectors brought in for a movie night, and Tony takes the idea and runs with it. He sets up the living room with a screen that takes up half the wall and installs speakers in what Phil would assume was an entirely random pattern except that he’s heard Tony mumbling about ‘dipole’ and ‘bipolar’ and ‘optimum surround sound’...
...He tells JARVIS to sync up Die Hard and play it through just to test it. Clint walks in just in time for the opening credits.
“Goddamn genius,” he grins against Tony’s cheek, pulling back from where he’s half-launched himself over the back of the couch. “Is there popcorn?”
“There can be,” Phil hears Tony answer over the sound of his own teeth grinding.
~
He comes back a few nights later armed with a deck of cards and some poker chips.
Clint is in the kitchen with Steve, the two of them plastered together with the fridge door left open and the back of Clint’s shirt dusted with flour in all the places Steve has put his hands.
Phil doesn’t even want to know why this time. He just leaves.
Or... he will leave. Any minute now, he’s going to turn around and walk away.
Clint laughs into Steve’s mouth and Steve ruffles Clint’s hair, the flour on his hand clouding the air around them.
Phil leaves the cards on the bench when he goes.
~
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Their next battle isn’t exactly a record breaker-it takes twice the time of their last before Clint manages to drop the last of the Doombots with an exploding arrow to the spine.
Phil’s taking the fire-escape to the roof before he can even stop to think, and Clint meets him halfway down with grin lighting up his eyes.
“You saw that?”
“I saw,” Phil nods and then his hands are on Clint’s hips, pushing him back against the brick and holding him there.
Phil licks at Clint’s bottom lip until it’s wet and swollen and then he’s catching it between his teeth and biting and Clint is fisting his hands into Phil’s jacket to keep him close. Phil’s fingers are probably leaving bruises on Clint’s skin, but somewhere in the past thirty seconds Clint started moving his hips in a sort of slow grind and Phil’s never known anyone to go from confused complacency to hungry for it in such a short space of time. That’s okay, though, that’s fine, that’s... kind of amazing actually.
Phil breaks the kiss but Clint’s hands are buried tight in the material of his shirt, and he’s keeping himself pressed up against Phil as tight as he can get.
“Whu..?” he pants into Phil’s neck.
Phil shrugs, but apparently that’s not going to cut it; Clint lifts his head from Phil’s shoulder, eyes locking onto his like a command.
“Positive reinforcement,” he offers, and that must be enough, because Clint is leaning in again, hands running up the side of Phil’s neck to the back of his head, pulling their mouths back together.
~
So it turns out Phil can be kind of possessive sometimes. It also turns out Clint kind of likes that.
Clint doesn’t celebrate his victories by kissing his teammates anymore, but if he’s a little free and easy with the touching some nights-nights when Phil’s there watching him, eyes growing darker, hands balled so tight his knuckles are white with it-well. That’s almost a victory in itself right there.
*
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<3
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"Captain, it would be my genuine pleasure."
fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
And thank you!
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Thanks for reading!
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Dude, I can't even tell you how awesome you are for making this whole thing happen. Look at all the kisses we have because of you! This meme is my happy place right now.
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