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fandomweekly2016-03-25 09:20 pm
peaceful_sands) wrote in fandomweekly2016-03-25 09:20 pm
Entry tags:
[008] Alone (Avengers)
Theme Prompt: #008 Rooftops
Title: Alone
Fandom: The Avengers
Rating/Warnings: PG (Clint and Bucky friendship)
Bonus: No
Word Count: 952
Summary: After a battle, Clint retreats alone to a rooftop for a while.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Alone
Clint sat at the edge of the rooftop, eyes unfocussed, breathing slow, surrounded by the quiet. This far up, the sounds of the city moving below him were distant, muted even if he had his aids turned up to catch every hint of noise, which they weren’t, because he didn’t want to hear. He’d have turned them off completely but he knew. . . he knew that eventually he wouldn’t be alone, eventually someone would come and he needed to hear it when they did, needed to hear the anger and the accusations, the hatred and disappointment. All he had to do was wait. Someone would come.
He had lost track of time, but the sun was lower in the sky, the wind more chill. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit to being cold, but really in the scheme of things being cold was the least of his problems. He heard footsteps behind him but didn’t turn.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he heard, but stubbornly refused to turn and acknowledge the words. The footsteps came closer, stopping beside him for the briefest of moments before he felt the heat of a body settling beside him, too close to even pretend to ignore.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Clint shrugged, head finally turning to see the person beside him. He didn’t lift his eyes, settled his gaze instead on knees and hands, took a deep breath and signed ‘Sorry.’ He had his aids in but . . . he didn’t want to use his voice, didn’t want to show any more than he already was. He turned his head away, eyes closing.
Bucky lifted his hand, laid it gently on Clint’s shoulder for a moment, squeezed. Every move was slow, gentle, careful even and Clint just wanted to curl in on himself and vanish, pretend that he didn’t need this, crave it.
Bucky’s hand slid further across his shoulder until it was resting behind his neck, solid and grounding and it was simultaneously too much and not enough. Bucky’s fingers flexed a fraction, a squeeze and then a tug pulling Clint closer.
“You’re freezing,” Bucky murmured, when he’d got Clint pulled close. Clint nodded. He felt as much as heard the slight snort of laughter that escaped from Bucky before he added, “And nuts! Sitting out here for hours and let’s not even get started on the fact that regardless of your orders, you, my friend, have not been within a bow’s range of anyone with any medical training.” The words were gentle and accepting even in their criticism, like Bucky understood.
Bucky fell quiet and just sat still, one arm holding Clint close, while the fingers on the other hand massaged softly at the taut pained muscles in Clint’s neck. Clint’s eyes didn’t open.
“It’s going to be okay,” Bucky said eventually. “I’m not saying don’t worry, because I get it. I do, but it still will be okay in the end. Everyone will be okay. Well, that’s if they forgive me for not marching you straight down to medical the minute I found you.”
Clint made a half-hearted attempt to lift one hand to sign Sorry again, but instead found his hand clasped in Bucky’s and being tucked in against his chest as if to try and warm it. Strange how the warmth only made him shiver more.
“It really is time we went inside,” Bucky echoed his thoughts, “before you turn into an absolute icicle. Come on.” Clint felt as Bucky shifted him away a fraction, not letting go but putting enough distance between them that Bucky could get his feet under him and then pull Clint up alongside.
“You do know that hiding out on Stark’s roof would have made it easier to find you. . . then again maybe that’s why you’re here. What is this place anyway? You know there are a load of SHIELD reports that call you mouthy, if they could see you now.”
Bucky tugged him towards the roof door, slow, incessant, determined. Clint let himself be led, resisting the urge to dig his heels in like a recalcitrant child. Just before the door, Bucky stopped suddenly and Clint looked up in surprise, meeting his eyes, as Bucky gave a gentle smile and said again, “It really wasn’t your fault.”
“Eyes in the sky,” Clint muttered, wanting to turn away but something in Bucky’s gaze wouldn’t let him.
“Even eyes in the sky can’t see portals that open on the spot with no warning before they appear. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t think for an instant that the others aren’t going to all say exactly the same thing.”
“Portals?”
“Yeah, portals. You didn’t miss anything, it wasn’t your fault.”
Clint stared at him, looking for any hint that what he was saying might not be the truth. “I’m sorry,” Clint muttered.
“What for this time?”
“Wasting your time, hiding up here, sure there’s plenty of other things. . . pick one.”
“Forgiven, how about that instead? Let’s not waste time on any more reproach, let’s just go get warm, get you checked over and then we can chill with the others in peace and keep those fingers crossed that no one else decides to spoil our weekend.” With that he pulled the door open, gave Clint a not so gentle shove through it, before heading through himself and pulling the door closed firmly behind him.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, hitting the timer switch for the light and waiting for it to warm up to a decent glow before heading for the top step.
And Clint figured that he was probably right. It would be okay, or as okay as things ever were.
Title: Alone
Fandom: The Avengers
Rating/Warnings: PG (Clint and Bucky friendship)
Bonus: No
Word Count: 952
Summary: After a battle, Clint retreats alone to a rooftop for a while.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Alone
Clint sat at the edge of the rooftop, eyes unfocussed, breathing slow, surrounded by the quiet. This far up, the sounds of the city moving below him were distant, muted even if he had his aids turned up to catch every hint of noise, which they weren’t, because he didn’t want to hear. He’d have turned them off completely but he knew. . . he knew that eventually he wouldn’t be alone, eventually someone would come and he needed to hear it when they did, needed to hear the anger and the accusations, the hatred and disappointment. All he had to do was wait. Someone would come.
He had lost track of time, but the sun was lower in the sky, the wind more chill. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit to being cold, but really in the scheme of things being cold was the least of his problems. He heard footsteps behind him but didn’t turn.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he heard, but stubbornly refused to turn and acknowledge the words. The footsteps came closer, stopping beside him for the briefest of moments before he felt the heat of a body settling beside him, too close to even pretend to ignore.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Clint shrugged, head finally turning to see the person beside him. He didn’t lift his eyes, settled his gaze instead on knees and hands, took a deep breath and signed ‘Sorry.’ He had his aids in but . . . he didn’t want to use his voice, didn’t want to show any more than he already was. He turned his head away, eyes closing.
Bucky lifted his hand, laid it gently on Clint’s shoulder for a moment, squeezed. Every move was slow, gentle, careful even and Clint just wanted to curl in on himself and vanish, pretend that he didn’t need this, crave it.
Bucky’s hand slid further across his shoulder until it was resting behind his neck, solid and grounding and it was simultaneously too much and not enough. Bucky’s fingers flexed a fraction, a squeeze and then a tug pulling Clint closer.
“You’re freezing,” Bucky murmured, when he’d got Clint pulled close. Clint nodded. He felt as much as heard the slight snort of laughter that escaped from Bucky before he added, “And nuts! Sitting out here for hours and let’s not even get started on the fact that regardless of your orders, you, my friend, have not been within a bow’s range of anyone with any medical training.” The words were gentle and accepting even in their criticism, like Bucky understood.
Bucky fell quiet and just sat still, one arm holding Clint close, while the fingers on the other hand massaged softly at the taut pained muscles in Clint’s neck. Clint’s eyes didn’t open.
“It’s going to be okay,” Bucky said eventually. “I’m not saying don’t worry, because I get it. I do, but it still will be okay in the end. Everyone will be okay. Well, that’s if they forgive me for not marching you straight down to medical the minute I found you.”
Clint made a half-hearted attempt to lift one hand to sign Sorry again, but instead found his hand clasped in Bucky’s and being tucked in against his chest as if to try and warm it. Strange how the warmth only made him shiver more.
“It really is time we went inside,” Bucky echoed his thoughts, “before you turn into an absolute icicle. Come on.” Clint felt as Bucky shifted him away a fraction, not letting go but putting enough distance between them that Bucky could get his feet under him and then pull Clint up alongside.
“You do know that hiding out on Stark’s roof would have made it easier to find you. . . then again maybe that’s why you’re here. What is this place anyway? You know there are a load of SHIELD reports that call you mouthy, if they could see you now.”
Bucky tugged him towards the roof door, slow, incessant, determined. Clint let himself be led, resisting the urge to dig his heels in like a recalcitrant child. Just before the door, Bucky stopped suddenly and Clint looked up in surprise, meeting his eyes, as Bucky gave a gentle smile and said again, “It really wasn’t your fault.”
“Eyes in the sky,” Clint muttered, wanting to turn away but something in Bucky’s gaze wouldn’t let him.
“Even eyes in the sky can’t see portals that open on the spot with no warning before they appear. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t think for an instant that the others aren’t going to all say exactly the same thing.”
“Portals?”
“Yeah, portals. You didn’t miss anything, it wasn’t your fault.”
Clint stared at him, looking for any hint that what he was saying might not be the truth. “I’m sorry,” Clint muttered.
“What for this time?”
“Wasting your time, hiding up here, sure there’s plenty of other things. . . pick one.”
“Forgiven, how about that instead? Let’s not waste time on any more reproach, let’s just go get warm, get you checked over and then we can chill with the others in peace and keep those fingers crossed that no one else decides to spoil our weekend.” With that he pulled the door open, gave Clint a not so gentle shove through it, before heading through himself and pulling the door closed firmly behind him.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, hitting the timer switch for the light and waiting for it to warm up to a decent glow before heading for the top step.
And Clint figured that he was probably right. It would be okay, or as okay as things ever were.
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