#notyouricarus

Sam had opened his mouth to answer the question posed, but had gracefully closed it when Bucky changed his mind. He hadn’t wiped the grin on his face off though as he watched the other man try to collect himself.

"Nothing. Just taking in the view, since it’s not often you’re flustered so adorably."

hit on my muse!∟ notyouricarus​ » {permalink}

                        ❝                      I’m not ! … what makes you think I am flustered ? wait, no. please do not even answer that question. ❞

& eventually he cleared his throat to distract himself a little, although the corner of his lips curled lightly before, attention returning once more towards the other.

meme: Send "Confess" for my muse to admit something they find attractive about yours.

send me a ✿ and i’ll generate a numberresult: 17 - rain kiss

     Torrential fucking rain. Clint curses to himself as he vaults from one slippery rooftop to another, even his own exceptional vision compromised by the downpour. If anyone's able to sight people right now, it's probably Tony-- he has some sort of heat goggle thing installed in the Iron Man suit that's letting him keep track of things. Even then, the rain is cold, and that's damping out signatures.

     Clint's never been so glad in his life that the A.I.M. agents wear an obnoxious yellow outfit. Biohazard suits or whatever they might be, right now it makes taking them down just a little bit easier.

     Two arrows get loosed in rapid succession behind him as he tries to scatter a trail of enemies, and he hears gunfire from above as Sam takes out a few more.

     "Falcon, stay low!" Steve's voice comes through the comm. "Too many lightning strikes going on for you to be that high up." Clint can't see if the other man lands-- there's no time, because he's jumping through the window of an office building so that he can rapid-turn and fire on the people following him. Three, four, five, six agents go down and the archer remembers to breathe before picking up a run and heading up the stairwell towards the rooftops again.

     The place is swarmed. How did it get so bad?

     Another set of repulsor rays light up the grayed out atmosphere, signaling that Iron Patriot (or was it War Machine?) has joined the fight, and Clint rolls to avoid being shot. There are too many for him to deal with alone. "Rhodey! Get over here, I'm running out of arrows!"

     The armored man shows up without delay, and Clint barely breathes out a "thank fuck" before hopping back through the wreckage to find the other stashed quiver. And then his footing slips.

     Without warning, he's plummeting off a fourteen-story building, and he doesn't have a grappling arrow on him and shit that's gonna hurt shit shit shit-- but Sam grabs him out of nowhere and manages to keep him from breaking his whole self. Clint's chest heaves, Sam stares at him and shakes his head.

     In his head, there's deafening silence for a moment before the world rights itself.

meme: acts of intimacy♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse’s lap.

     There are many, many things that Clint is willing to do for S.H.I.E.L.D., probably more than he’s comfortable with, to be perfectly honest, but one thing he absolutely abhors is paperwork. His hatred of it is loud and strident in the offices, and winds down to soft muttering and whining at home. When Sam is over, inevitably some of that complaining gets dumped on the other man too.

     So it is today, where Clint has flopped out directly into Sam’s lap because the other man is “not paying enough attention to my whining, dammit” and clearly being on top of him is going to help. Or if not, at least it’s an excuse not to work— and comfortable to boot. Sam, as he frequently does, gives Clint indulgent smiles and rolls his eyes because there is a child over six feet tall clamoring for his affection while he’s trying to get his own work done.

     Clint settles for pouting, and tucks his face into the juncture of Sam’s hip.

     It’s actually very relaxing, he decides… the whole thing, between the comforting warmth and the overall domestic banter and the fact that Sam puts up with all this ridiculousness for some reason… it’s just so nice and he can’t help but snuggle in a little closer. He doesn’t know if it’s a conscious thing or not, but the motion seems to trigger a hand stroking through his hair, and then all hope of work is lost.

shoulders shrugging, sharon's face shifted. fighting back the urge to laugh,  which was proving to be unsuccessful.  sam'e expression was just too much to ignore. 

[ *raises hand* there are a few on there that i’d enjoy! ]