Sunshine, Lemons, Cream
Title: Sunshine, Lemons, Cream
Author: Nakimochiku
Fandom: Avengers
Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton/ Tony Stark
Rating: T
Warnings: flirty!Tony
Summary: Tony flirting with Clint early in the morning
Note: I'm actually not sure what the title has to do with anything
"Agent Barton." Tony greets smoothly as they pass each other in the kitchen. Clint is in boxers. Tony wears sweatpants in danger of falling off his hips, and a wife beater.
"Don't." Clint grunts at him, elbowing him aside to get at the coffee machine. He tries to ignore that Tony stays so unnervingly close he can feel the heat of him, and imagines he can even hear the hum of the arc reactor in his chest.
"Don't what?" His cat got the canary smile doesn't fool anyone. Clint narrows his eyes at him.
"Don't flirt." He clarifies. He takes a long gulp of his black coffee, the caffeine perking him up. Tony follows suit, but he can see him smiling over the rim of his mug. "You're not the type I go for."
"Yeah?" Tony's voice is a stage whisper suited to the watery grey light of early morning, and Clint denies that the sound of it raises goosebumps on his arms. "Then what type am I?" He leans just a little closer. He smells like motor oil and sweat. Clint runs his tongue over teeth. He gives a smarmy little smirk.
"The type that only wants to get in my pants." He takes one careful step back from Tony, away from his overwhelming intensity. Then another, while Tony merely smirks at him.
"You don't think I can get in your pants?" He asks as Clint retreats. Clint smirks, and turns to look at him, really takes him in, tired and sweaty, dirt under his nails and smeared on his cheeks.
"It's that I know you can."
Author: Nakimochiku
Fandom: Avengers
Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton/ Tony Stark
Rating: T
Warnings: flirty!Tony
Summary: Tony flirting with Clint early in the morning
Note: I'm actually not sure what the title has to do with anything
"Agent Barton." Tony greets smoothly as they pass each other in the kitchen. Clint is in boxers. Tony wears sweatpants in danger of falling off his hips, and a wife beater.
"Don't." Clint grunts at him, elbowing him aside to get at the coffee machine. He tries to ignore that Tony stays so unnervingly close he can feel the heat of him, and imagines he can even hear the hum of the arc reactor in his chest.
"Don't what?" His cat got the canary smile doesn't fool anyone. Clint narrows his eyes at him.
"Don't flirt." He clarifies. He takes a long gulp of his black coffee, the caffeine perking him up. Tony follows suit, but he can see him smiling over the rim of his mug. "You're not the type I go for."
"Yeah?" Tony's voice is a stage whisper suited to the watery grey light of early morning, and Clint denies that the sound of it raises goosebumps on his arms. "Then what type am I?" He leans just a little closer. He smells like motor oil and sweat. Clint runs his tongue over teeth. He gives a smarmy little smirk.
"The type that only wants to get in my pants." He takes one careful step back from Tony, away from his overwhelming intensity. Then another, while Tony merely smirks at him.
"You don't think I can get in your pants?" He asks as Clint retreats. Clint smirks, and turns to look at him, really takes him in, tired and sweaty, dirt under his nails and smeared on his cheeks.
"It's that I know you can."