the tesseract

Mega Weeding Sales

2016-08-11T19:48:56Z

Terms:
- I'll ship anywhere in the world
- First person to commit gets the item
- Sales permission given in 2008 by mod lineaalba (now deactivated)
- PayPal preferred, trades available for Omanyte items (and things from other fandoms).
- You'll find feedback under my older username, celuthea, or my eBay, celuthea2101
- I'd rather sell as lots, but feel free to make offers on individual items.

Fairy lot - $35 +shipping
Contains: Swirlix Pokedoll, Swirlix and Spritzee MPC and Diancie pokecen charm. All MWT/MIP.

Happiny, Chansey and Blissey lot - $45 +shipping
Contains: Happiny Jakks plush, Happiny canvas plush, 2 Blissey applause plush, Happiny and Nurse Chansey kids, bootleg Happiny and Blissey TOMY figures, orange clear Chansey, light up Chansey, Blissey Hama bead Sprite, Chansey marble (blue), Blissey pencil topper and 2 Chansey mini figures (one full colour, one orange).

Shieldon and Bastiodon lot - $50 +shipping
Contains: Shieldon banpresto plush, Shieldon Jakks plush x2, Shieldon mascot plush, Shieldon Hama bead Sprite, Shieldon pencil + topper, Shieldon and Bastiodon attack kids, Shieldon and Bastiodon chous, Shieldon metal figure, Shieldon marble x2, Shieldon and Bastiodon TOMY figures, Shieldon pokeball Keychain, Shieldon buildable figure, Shieldon TGC coin, Shieldon movie charm, Shieldon and Bastiodon pokecen charms, DX Bastiodon kid, Bastiodon keshipoke, Bastiodon foam hiragana tile and Bastiodon clipping figure.

TCG Lot - $20 SHIPPED.
Comtains: 42 mixed cards, jumbo Rayquaza promo, standard size Rayquaza promo and Zygarde EX.

Keldeo lot - $100 +shipping
Contains: TOMY plush, mascot plush, MPC, Pokedoll, TOMY figure x2, clear TOMY figure MIB, resolution form TCG figure, resolution form attack and normal kids, gacha strap figure, soap figure, keshipoke, mini figure, snowy Zukan, diorama + pikachu Zukan, clear Zukan (resolution and normal), simple strap, lotto strap, Pokecen strap and metal charms (normal and resolution), custom beer mat, Hama bead Sprite, 3 ensky magnets and 3 clear files (2x A4, 1x A5).

floette @ 2016-07-08T10:34:00

2016-07-08T09:35:47Z

Sales o'clock! Final weeding sales for a while, I hope.

Terms:
- I'll ship anywhere in the world
- First person to commit gets the item
- Sales permission given in 2008 by mod lineaalba (now deactivated)
- PayPal preferred, trades not available at this time
- You'll find feedback under my older username, celuthea, or my eBay, celuthea2101

Lot of Pokémon cards and online codes, including Zygarde EX - £18/$24 SHIPPED

Resolute form Keldeo PokeCen strap - £10/$13 SHIPPED

Diancie PokeCen Charm - £6/$8 SHIPPED

Kids and TCG figures - £5/$7 each or all six for £23/$30 SHIPPED

Keldeo Pokemon Centre plush, MWT. Has a slightly derpy neck, but very soft and cute in immaculate condition - £25/$33 SHIPPED

TOMY Keldeo plush in good condition, tush tag only - £15/$20 SHIPPED

Teeny tiny Keldeo keychain plush, MWT - £7.50/$10 SHIPPED

Spritzee and Swirlix MPC, MWT - £12/$16 each or both £18/$24 SHIPPED

Swirlix and Mawile Petit keychain plush, MWT - £7.50/$10 each or both £13/$17 SHIPPED

Swirlix pokédoll - £20/$26 SHIPPED
Amaura is SOLD.

Pokemon Sales!

2016-05-10T18:16:09Z

RULES:
> I've had sales permission since 2008 from former mod lineaalba
> My feedback is under this name and celuthea, plus celuthea2101 on eBay
> I ship from the UK anywhere in the world. Shipping STARTS at $6 international.
> PayPal preferred, haggling allowed, especially if you buy more than one thing.

Items:

Resolution Form Keldeo merchandise

Pokedoll = $30
Kids Figures = $4 each/$6 both
Clear Zukan = $8
Snowy Zukan = $6 (Both Zukan $10)
TCG Figure = $5
MIP Charm = $6

EVERYTHING = $50 SHIPPED ANYWHERE.

Chansey Bell Plush
MIP = $15
VGC = $10

Diancie large size Pokecen plush = $20

(
Also selling a MIP Eren Jaeger Nendoroid! Comes complete with box, but there's no plastic inside the box (the clear stuff that holds the items in place). $50 SHIPPED.)

Hurt/Comfort table

2015-09-10T13:50:57Z

minor illness or injury	deals with demons	robots / androids	coma	heat stroke
fire	mutation	crucifixion	amnesia	asphyxiation
unexpected consequences of planned soulbonding	Stockholm syndrome	WILD CARD	loss of hearing	group support
loss of home / shelter	pneumonia	accidental mating for life	de-age	septicemia / infected wounds
attacked by a creature	lacerations / knife wounds	arrest	nightmares	shipwrecked

Quick Update!

2015-09-10T13:48:29Z

Yo!

SO. I'm not really using LJ much anymore. I've trimmed my friends list to a few communities, but as a general, you'll only really see my writings here. I'm going to go through the older posts and hide pretty much all of them, sorry to say!

I love you all. If you want to see me elsewhere, here's where to find me:

http://www.dzheyberd.tumblr.com/ Tumblr
https://twitter.com/dzheyberd Twitter
Quinny Banner is my FB

So... yes! Look for fanfic!

Back?!

2015-01-15T12:25:50Z

HI FRIENDS!

I think I'm now in a place or enough organisation to post and properly come back to LJ. I missed you all! IDK who even reads their flist anymore, but hi. I'll be mainly posting to comms I think, rather than blogging my life, but hi.

I'm okay. I'm better than I was. I'm happier.

If you want my life story, it's best to hit me on twitter (dzheyberd), tumblr (dzheyberd) or facebook (Doc Jaybird)

I love you all x

[public] Shingeki No Kyojin Cosplay Post

2014-04-08T12:05:29Z

I started with a simple premise: Make the most accurate cosplay I could, following this page from the manga:

No mean feat. It was crazy but it worked.

Some notes:
★ Everything was hand sewn, as I didn't have a sewing machine. (I just bought one, squee!)
★ I decided not to include the scabbard, as I have a chronic pain condition so would not be physically capable of carrying it all day at MCM Expo.
★ I referenced CasuallyDisregarding's tutorial for some of this [1][2][3] particularly the third one for my skirt section.
★ I don't think this is thorough enough to be a proper tutorial, more a 'How I did it'. I'd be happy to help out if folks needed though!

Materials:
★ 2 meters of brown pleather/vinyl
★ 1/2 a meter of grey material
★ 11 1" buckles
★ 1 large belt buckle (I got mine from a belt I no longer wear)
★ A crapton of thread; stock up on black (or brown) and grey.
★ 1 A4 sheet of foam
★ Hemming tape

So I started with the grey section, as it seemed to be fairly central so you could work outwards from it. That was a good idea, it turned out.

Missy helped (not). You'll see a lot of her in this entry haha. Basically, I used my vest top as a template, which you can see in the pictures below:

The material was a bit rubbish and liked fraying, so I hemmed it all the way around.

Then the ridiculous bit of it. All in, there are over 20 straps to this harness, and I wanted mine to look as high quality as I could. To do this, I measured out the lengths required, made each strap two inches across, then blanket stitched the two edges together. After this, I flattened them under some heavy books with the seam in the center, then inserted hemming tape into them and ironed them. This gave a nice smooth and even finish. Make them the right width for your buckles, or they won't work properly.

Tip: Don't iron them too long, or you damage the surface. Always iron them under a pillowcase or tea towel.

The first ones I made were the ones that cross at the back. Because I wasn't going to be making the full gear, I made mine cross in the center of my back rather than lower as in the image.

Sewed it all down, then measured for the front part of the harness. I used my bra strap as a guide, and measured from the top of my shoulder blade, along the line of my bra strap to the center of my bra cup for the over-shoulder straps. For the ones that come across the middle and buckle together, I basically measured from the lumpy bit in the middle of my shoulder blade round to the center of my chest, then made one strap slightly longer than the others so it could pass through the buckle.

(N.B: The second photo looks like it's wonky; my mum took the photo when I was still working on straightening it out It does sit flat now!)

Tip: Pin EVERYTHING. Seriously. Pin then repin. Once you sew this pleather/vinyl material, if you have to unpick it and resew, it can look really messy, so pin things and make sure you're completely happy with them before you sew.

The ones over my shoulders are on poppers, but that may change to actually being sewn down - purely because it makes it a bit of an arse to get into, but it's alright.

Belt is next. I measured my hip size, then added around 4 inches so there was enough for a tab to go through the buckle and the belt loops. Make the belt wider than your straps, and get a larger buckle for it, or it'll look odd.

Once you've made the belt, you need to put it on and mark where each of your straps from the upper part of your harness attach. I used paperclips, as tape will damage pleather and vinyl if you use it and peel it off.

Create 4 short straps with a buckle on them. They'll need to be about 4" long. Attach them to your belt where you've marked up the strap attachment points. Sew them really securely or they won't hold if/when you move around wearing your costume.

Tip: Leave some slack in your straps, so you can move freely. Test it out with things like sitting, standing, reaching etc.

You're onto the hard bit. The leg pieces that go from the belt to the straps around your legs. Firstly, make 4 straps which sit securely around your thighs, just below the widest part of your thigh. Not so tight you can't move, but tight enough they'll stay in place or you'll spend more time pulling them up than having fun.

Next, measure from your spine to the top most thigh strap. You need two straps that length (mine was 17").

Then measure from one of your hipbones at the front, across to the opposite upper thigh strap. You need another 2 that length (min was 19").

Lastly, make some short (approx. 6") straps, which will hold the back straps up as you can see (just) in the picture above.

Attach everything, then create loops at the ends of all the straps that will attach your your thigh straps. Thread the thigh straps through. Voila!

Tip: Mark, somehow, the lefts and rights of each leg harness attachments. I put a tiny blob of pink nail varnish on all the right ones on the inside, so I could tell them apart. (I did this mainly because my left knee/end of my left thigh muscles are not consistent with my right, so they fit very differently).

Due to the fact my boots are really tall, I decided I wasn't going to do the full knee-to-foot straps, as no one would see them anyway. Instead, I made another strap that went around under my knee and put a buckle on it. I then measured from the bottom thigh strap down to this knee strap, and crated four more straps of that length. I sewed them into a Y formation, and put loops on all three ends so they could attach in 2 places on my knee strap and in one to my thigh strap.

That's how I made it work. Sorry the picture is a bit rubbish, I didn't take any photos in progress.

Tip: By using loops rather than fixing the straps together, you reduce the chances of it ripping/pulling loose while you wear it, as it can react to your movements.

For the grey mounting points for the scabbard, you need to find something about 5" long and 3.5" wide. Cut out a paper template, then get your foam and trace it onto the foam, ala

Tip: Use Sharpie or permanent marker, as the foam will absorb water-based pens and make them fade and smudge.

Cut them out, then create 4 slits, 2 up and 2 down.

Cut out a piece of your grey material twice the size of your foam square. Pin your foam in the center, then sew it around the edged to attach, then use your scissors to cut the slits through the fabric.

Tadahhh!

Skirt is the last bit. Using CasuallyDisregardings guidelines, cut out pleather/vinyl according to their patterns.

It'll look weird, but persist!

After, fold the straight piece back over the top of the curved piece. You'll need to sew the flapping ends of the belt loops at this stage so they look like this:

Now I cheated a little. I sewed up the ends, including a short strap with a buckle on one side and a strap with a hole in it the other, so they look like this:

Except you only need one - I messed up.

Then, put some hemming tape inside the remaining open slit along the whole length of your skirt, and iron it.

This gives a smooth, even finish with no stitches showing through.

Then assemble! Check you can sit down, move around, walk comfortably etc, and make any necessary adjustments that may be needed. Now you can create keeper loops for all the ends of straps, and generally just check everything works.

Tip: Work in a continuous, logical way. Start with your jeans and shirt (tucked in for some characters like Levi and Mikasa, not tucked in for Eren), then put your belt on. Follow it with your leg straps, making sure they're all done up, then put on your back piece and attach all straps as necessary. Then the skirt, which goes over your belt, and then get your jacket on and go kill Titans.

[public] Doctor Circe Jaybird

2013-12-11T19:32:42Z

So I have found my OC. She sums up, physically, a deep mental image I hold of myself. Sad probably, but when I saw this design by quisling, I fell in love.

She is PERFECTION.

I have more art of her and a whole tonne of information on my Tumblr here.

I really wanted to write about her and share her here, particularly as I have fic and headcanons and all sorts for her.

You can read Circe's biographical information here. I hope you guys like her ;;

[Saturday a big post is coming of updatedness <3]

[public] Name change

2013-12-03T08:45:58Z

Hey all!

Yep my username has changed! I'm now floette rather than dr_banner. Floette (or Fleoette on Twitter/Tumblr). I love my fairy baby so much ;; I've hatched 980 trying to find a shiny. I do need to post, but I'm in no mood to make a decent post today.

Anyway, I hope it doesn't confuse anyone. Have a good day!

[FIC] You Can't Make Me!

2013-10-07T12:01:41Z

Title - You Can't Make Me!
Fandom - Avengers [Post movie AU]
Rating - G
Summary - Bruce is the worst patient in the world, but Clint, Darcy and Lucky are the most persistent family in the world.

Written because the bunny would not shut the heck up until I wrote this. A very needed distraction today.

“I’m the Hulk! You can’t make me rest!” Clint looks at Bruce with disbelief, a look mirrored on their daughter’s face as she stares at her Papa. “I have work. Lots of important work and I’m fine.”

“Bruce, your leg is held together with nineteen pins. You’re in a wheelchair. Yesterday you couldn’t pee on your own.” Clint crosses his arms and Darcy copies him. “You are staying in bed.”

“Then get me my laptop.”

“Papa, no working.” Darcy is positively scowling at Bruce as she says it.

“Fine. Lucky I’ll let you sleep in the bed if you fetch my laptop bag?” Bruce offers to the Labrador standing beside Clint, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth to try and inspire the dog to do his bidding. Lucky lifts a paw and covers his eyes in reply. Bruce huffs and crosses his arms. “All I want is to check my emails.”

“Liar. You’ll check them, reply to all of them, then set into finishing that report. You know, the one that you were working on until midnight when you drove home and got hit by a semi,” Clint scolds, and Bruce at least goes pink in response.

“Well.” Bruce fumbles around for an excuse. In fairness, his leg is killing him as the morphine he’s allowed wears off so quickly, he’s tired, and just really glad to be in his own bed. He knows that he’d be the same with Clint if the situations were flipped, but he was so not used to getting hurt that he’d forgotten the skills of convalescing. “Well. I’ll just… Call Tony, get him to- Is that my cell phone?”

Darcy holds the tech aloft and grins. “No calling Uncle Tony for you. No emails either. Bed rest, you heard the doctor.”

“Darce, the doctor was a spotty faced teenager who could probably be in one of those bands you love so much. You know, One That and Take Direction,” Bruce teases back, but Darcy doesn’t even crack a smile. “You’re both evil. And you, dog, don’t you look all innocent.”

Darcy and Clint have an innate ability to move as though they’re one body, and they sigh in tandem. Bruce pouts and tries to look as sweet, innocent and deserving of having his laptop or tablet. Lucky crept forward and jumped on the bed, curling up against Bruce’s good leg and licking his hand.

“No, no I will not be swayed by you being cute,” Bruce tells him, but the dog persists with licking him and snuggling into his leg. “Stop it!” Lucky whines and crawls further up the bed, nudging under Bruce’s elbow for a proper cuddle, which Bruce eventually acquiesces to.

Darcy hops up, trying not to bounce Bruce too much, and snuggles his other side, taking care not to bump the huge cast on his leg and the bruising on his arm and chest on that side. “I want you to get better, Papa, because at Christmas it’s the dad’s ball and I get to take both of you. Reed promised.”

Damn children being cute and convincing with their puppy dog eyes and damn dogs being adorable.

“I-“ The look on Clint’s face stops Bruce’s words dead in their tracks. “Well I am not sitting in this bed for the next eight weeks without a TV, and I’m noticing that the bed is still kind of empty…” Bruce shoots a look at Clint. “I’ll stay in bed, but I’m not sitting here on my own. And I want my Star Trek boxsets because I’m picking what we watch.”

Darcy leans up and kisses his cheek. “And no work?”

Bruce sighs. “No work. None. Zippo. Except one thing.” Bruce evades eye contact with either his husband or daughter. “Reed’s emailing me your work, so… You’ll have to check it. Okay?” Both of them nod and smile, and Clint turns to go back into the living room.

“I’ll fetch the TV.”

[PUBLIC] Sales? Kind of?

2013-08-14T11:34:16Z

I know I know. I'm on summer break and I have basically not posted at all. I'd say I'd been busy, and I guess I have, but not that busy, so my bad. I will post a proper interesting post next, not just fic or this random post.

Basically I have cleared out my house. I've filled 2 huge bins full of stuff, gotten rid of over 300 books, and I have more stuff to take to charity shops. Anything I thought was nice enough I've collated and is under the cut: if no one wants, it's going on eBay tomorrow evening.

Da Rules.
- UK shipping is a bitch. Starts at $6 international D: But I will ship anywhere.
- Nothing really has a set price, offers and haggles welcome.
- Paypal payments rule OK.
- Trades are good. Fairy pokémon particularly, art especially.

pheonixxfoxx, sorjei and narumi - I have things already to post you gals, so if you want to add anything from here, just let me know and I'll throw it in. sorjei - do you want Psyduck in the packaging or out?

Textbooks? I thought I'd include these but I'm not sure you guys would need.
Brand new A Storm of Swords. I bought two, somehow XD
A Scanner Darkly graphic novel, basically brand new.
Volume One of each Guilty Pleasures and The Laughing Corpse. Brand new, never read.
No Doubt albums.
Random selection of DVDs, including Gundam Seed I think?
Complete Lost boxset, watched once. Some of the prongs which hold the DVDs inside are broken, but the discs are all fine. Looking for £30 if I can.
Aliens Colonial Marines and Sims 2 Double Deluxe games. Both work perfectly and come with leaflets.
Nintendo 3DS case, holds 6 games. Lightly used.
Nintendo wi-fi adaptor (you can get the software from the website) which works perfectly. Tamagotchi toy, playworn, worked perfectly last I tried it.
Deer ring (adjustable) ~~and Anubis statue (damaged)~~. Anubis is sold!
Cute little teddy, who is reaaaally soft.
Sheep! All in good condition. The little 4 sheep things are erasers :3
Art supplies! The watercolour set is used, the others are brand new. I'll never use them.
Wolverine 1/12 scale figure, exclusive to Marvel Factfiles subscribers.
Kaiyedo figures, all in like-new condition. The Sinnoh starters one I won't let go for less than $20 (what I paid for it.)
Mewtwo kid, very good condition.
Brand new Nintendo Club shoe laces! 2 pairs, completely unused.

Van Dal shoes, like new. You can see the price tag. They're really comfortable - I have a pink pair the same.

[fic] Spread Your Wings, My Little Butterfly

2013-08-04T14:04:22Z

Title: Spread Your Wings, My Little Butterfly
Fandoms: AU Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton/Bruce Banner, Avengers ensemble, Reed Richards.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Clint Barton is a man with many secrets, but sometimes it just takes the right person to break through his walls. Bruce Banner happens to be that person.

Notes: For the epic Cally’s birthday. It’s kind of tradition that I write her some Hulkeye for her birthday every year, and while I promised domestic fic, I hope this suits just as well. Enjoy!

Bruce stared into the box with a frown creasing his brow. There had been a full forty dressings in there when he'd last checked - now, there were thirty five. He put the box down and picked up last night's inventory check list. There'd been 40 last night, too, noted down in one of the nurse's neat scrawls and signed off. Which didn't really help his puzzlement, but in the mean time, he had an officer with a burn which needed dressing, so he pushed it out of his mind and got on with his job.

The mystery of the missing dressings deepened over the coming couple of days. Gauze, sutures, more dressings, needles, even a bottle of sterile saline solution went missing from the infirmary ward. No one else seemed overly bothered, and a few laughed at Bruce's new-found obsession with the inventory of the ward, but it troubled him immensely.

He carefully catalogued every item that went missing, and came to a few conclusions, each one more horrible than the last. Either someone was hurting themselves and using the infirmary to treat the injuries, someone had hurt someone else and was treating them in secret, or one of the members of SHIELD was injured and wouldn't come to the infirmary. Any of them greatly upset Bruce, who prided himself on having helped make the infirmary a warm, professional, safe space for everyone.

So he found himself working the graveyard shift, doing a crossword puzzle between his rounds of observations and leaning back artfully in his chair. He almost missed the movement on the small CCTV monitor, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted it, a mere flicker really. He turned his full attention to the monitor and was startled by what he saw.

Clint Barton was in the store closet. He looked like he knew where everything was, going by the way he quickly filled up his pockets with all the articles that had been going missing over the past few days. Added to that? He looked sick as a dog. Pale, shivery, sheened with sweat. Bruce sat bolt upright, staring at the monitor, and weighed his options, pros, cons, then got up and hurried to the corridor where the closet sat.

"Agent Barton?" Clint whirled on his heel and levelled a gun at chest height. Bruce put his hands up and aimed to look as innocent and harmless as he possibly could. "Agent, I just want to help."

"I don't need any help," Clint replied, holstering the gun and turning back to the closet. "Don't need… Don't…" And, abruptly, he was flat out on the floor.

Bruce startled, freezing in place for a few moments, then hastened to Clint's side, kneeling beside him and feeling for a pulse. He was suffering a raging temperature, his skin clammy and hot beneath a thin coating of sweat, cheeks flushed with his pallor pale, heart beating up a storm under his ribs. Bruce gently eased Clint into a sitting position, then lifted him up and took him into one of the side rooms, laying him on the cot and setting to work.

Which was when he realised that Clint didn't lay flat on the cot. His shoulders sat raised, awkwardly so, and as Bruce got a line into the vein in Clint's arm, he saw blood seeping through the agent's clothes and into the bed sheets. Whatever it was, it was bleeding heavily - Clint's battlefield first aid wasn't holding up so well, Bruce guessed.

Gently, he tapped Clint's cheek and spoke to him, trying to rouse him into consciousness. Slowly, the agent came around, bleary eyed and blinking, and instantly gasped and tried to recoil. "Stop, Clint, stop," Bruce whispered, catching Clint's wrist and holding it gently.

"I can't, you… Let me go back, I'm fine."

Bruce shook his head. "You're hurt - worse, whatever injury you've got's infected. That's why you feel like crap, why you're sweating and hot, why your head is pounding and you feel like you're going to die." He relinquished his grip on Clint's wrist and sat on the edge of the bed, slowly, like he was dealing with an anxious child - but not seeking to patronise Clint, simply wanting to make him feel safe and comfortable. "Let me help you."

Clint stared at Bruce, thinking deeply. He knew he was sick, had known for a few days, but every time it'd happened before, he'd gotten over it in a week. This time was different; he figured maybe the scalpel got dirty, or his hands were clean enough. He also knew that he was going to die if he didn't get help, and he wasn't ready for that, not yet. Not yet.

Slowly, he sat up, swinging his legs past Bruce so he could sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Hesitantly he lifted his shirt, peeling it off enough that his back was bare but he didn't catch the needle in his arm. His chest shuddered with an anxious sob as he felt Bruce's gaze settle on the two bloodied bandages taped badly against two stumps sitting in his shoulder blades.

SHIELD didn't hire mutants. Especially not mutants with huge-disgusting-inhuman-vile wings. And so Clint learned a long time ago how to cut them down, file the stumps, keep them clean so they never grew. He hoped and prayed they'd stop coming, would leave him be, but no. Every day they healed, and every day he rasped off the new growth until it was as flat as he could manage against his shoulder blades.

Bruce checked his gloves then stood, gently peeling the gauze away from the wounds and gasping when he saw them. Both were infected, badly by the looks of things, but more than anything, he felt horrible that Clint was hiding such a secret. He knelt down in front of Clint, using the bed as support, and caught his eye, watching the tears of shame brim in Clint's eyes. "They're infected, okay? I'm going to get some antibiotics for you, and clean them up properly," he explained, his tone warm and kind.

"They're disgusting," Clint replied, "And I hate them."

Bruce frowned hard, a sick, sad feeling growing in his stomach at the bitterness in the young man's voice. "Please, let me help you. Wait here, I'll just be two minutes," he answered, standing, peeling his gloves off then making shakes to the supply cupboard. He picked up some intravenous antibiotics as well as a course of oral ones, clean sterile dressings, some saline and a suture set, all the while musing over what this meant.

It meant, of course, Clint was a mutant. Probably quite a high level one, from what Bruce could recall from his medical training in the field and his own private interest, but a mutant was a mutant in SHIELD's eyes. He made a decision in that moment that would change his life forever. He'd keep Clint's secret just that - a secret.

He went back into the little side room, and sighed with relief when he saw Clint was still there. Blood and lymph fluid trickled down Clint's back from the raw wounds, but he didn't seem to notice, he was too busy staring at his hands where little spots of water were dripping onto his skin. Bruce handed him a tissue, then sat on the little plastic chair nearby, pulling it up so he could sit in front of Clint.

"I'm going to numb those off for you, clean them up, stitch them properly, then we're going to talk, okay?" he said softly, nudging Clint's knee with his knuckles. Clint nodded mutely, snuffling into his tissue and wiping his eyes absently, and Bruce smiled and stood up to begin work.

He talked Clint through every single thing he did, from the dose of lidocane to numb Clint's back off right through to the delicate stitching work and gentle bandaging he did to keep the wounds clean and dry. He pulled Clint's shirt back down over the bandages, swapped Clint's IV for the antibiotic IV, then sat back down in his plastic chair and looked up at Clint, a worried look on his face. "How long've you been filing these down?" he asked after a little while, giving Clint space and time to reply.

"All… All my life," Clint replied anxiously, his tone shy and scared. "M'dad he… He hit me… They're hideous…" Bruce frowned more deeply, sitting forward in his chair to show he was listening carefully. "I shouldn't… No one else can know. Ever."

Bruce nodded. "If anyone were to find out, it wouldn't be from me," he promised, then sighed. "Have you… Seen them? What they look like?"

Clint shook his head, twirling the tissue in between his fingers. "I don't want to. They're horrible, they're unnatural, they're-"

"Part of you? Incredible? Rare?" Bruce shuffled closer again, so Clint couldn't avoid his gaze. "I'm sorry that you feel like this about them, Clint. You have a gift, and if… If your father was too stupid to see that? Then that's his problem."

Clint huffed a bitter laugh, looking away from Bruce and rubbing his face angrily. "What the hell do you know about-"

Bruce this time laughed, shaking his head. "Abusive fathers? Dead mothers? Being a freak? Oh, Clint, I'm an expert," he said, laughing quietly. "Look, I'm not saying grow them out, okay? But don't hide them away, let them get infected or anything. Come to me, I can help you."

Clint nodded mutely. "Thank you, Doctor."

*~*~*

That one night marked a change in Clint and Bruce's relationship. They developed an uneasy friendship, one where Clint sought out Bruce's help and comfort and Bruce happily helped Clint out, treating his wounds and helping him keep them filed down.

And then they kissed.

The kiss made everything awkward. Clint stopped coming, Bruce thought he'd majorly screwed up, and they managed to evade each other for a week before Bruce got too worried to stay away.

Clint was sitting in his office, alone, at three in the morning when Bruce finally pinned him down. He had a plan, a long convoluted speech, that he would deliver and whisk Clint away and everything would be glorious and amazing. In fact, when he got there, he just about managed to stutter that he was sorry before Clint was on his feet and they were kissing again and it was amazing.

So now they had two secrets. Fraternising with fellow agents was strictly forbidden, and as for Clint's mutant status, they were hiding what felt like the whole world behind their lies and deceit, even to their friends.

Bruce sat in a conference in New York, idly checking his phone occasionally to see if Clint had text him back. He had two hours before the SHIELD transport came to pick him up, and it was crawling by, despite the ample people watching that a conference on astro particle physics. He slumped down in his chair a little more, closing his eyes to rest them for a moment, then startled as he became aware of someone standing in front of him.

"Doctor Banner. It's been too long." Bruce smiled broadly up at his new companion, nodding in agreement as he stood and extended his hand to him.

"Reed Richards, geez, you haven't changed a bit," he said, grinning as they shook hands. "How'd you find the lecture?"

"Dull. But I did get time to catch up on some emails, so it worked out pretty well," Reed replied, then nodded towards a nearby coffee shop. "Have you got time?"

"Plenty," Bruce said, and the two found themselves sat outside in the May sunshine tucking into rich coffee and enjoying a catch up session. Reed found himself puzzling over Bruce; he could tell his old college compatriot was holding something back, and something big, but what it was he couldn't even guess. He didn't press him for details, because he knew Bruce would come clean eventually.

A comfortable silence fell between them as the sun started to set, an hour after they'd first sat down and chatted about work, family, irradiation and superpowers. All the usual things one talked about when you hadn't seen an old friend in a while, of course. Eventually, Reed's curiosity got the best of him, and he dived right in to quizzing his friend. "So, Bruce. What's troubling you?"

Bruce shook his head and answered quickly, "Nothing, why?" Reed gave him a look, and Bruce sighed, then caved in. He spilled about everything, until his throat was dry and he couldn't even begin to look at Reed as he finished. "And now… Now all I want to do is steal him away and take him somewhere SHIELD can't get to him."

Reed took a breath, thinking things over for what felt like hours but was likely just seconds. He slid a business card from his wallet over the table to Bruce, nodding at it for him to pick it up, then said, "Work out what you want, then call me. I'll help you if I can, Bruce. You sound pretty hung up on this guy."

"I am. In way too deep, Reed."

"It's good, Bruce. You've been on your own too long, a change is good for you. You deserve to be happy," Reed told him, and Bruce nodded, smiling gently.

*~*~*

Which was how Bruce and Clint escaped SHIELD. They tried to keep it legal, above board, to resign with reasons through the proper channels, but both of them were held in breach of contract and informed they had three years to work out before they could resign.

Bruce called in his favour. Reed was amazing, truly living up to his nickname Mr Fantastic. He found them a ranch house in Montana, up in the hills, far away from everyone and everything. He built them new identities, cover stories, set up bank accounts and paper trails. But first of all, he picked them up from the helicarrier, bold as brass, with the cover story of taking them for a peace treaty meeting with the Atlanteans.

Clint couldn't take his bow, but he brought some clothes and a few photographs he had laying around. He didn't know where he was going, but he trusted Bruce. Bruce, who was all soft touches and tender smiles, gentle, kind, brilliant. Who didn't recoil when Clint touched him, who doted on his wounds and kept them so clean and neat, who understood when Clint cried or laughed or hated everything.

It took a month for them to settle in the new house, to feel confident enough to leave without feeling like they were being watched. Bruce stayed in touch with Reed, but no one else; they had to make a clean break, or SHIELD would track them down, and the court marshal that would doubtless follow would be horrendous for them both.

Bruce woke early one day in late July, and set to work on the daily chores. The cows were milked, Daisy, Roe, Lisa and Shelly, the dog let loose to play in the field, and he started on breakfast and manufacturing coffee once he'd finished with the cows and fed them. The smell of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee drew Clint out of bed, shirtless and stretching, a smile on his face as he saw Bruce cooking for him. "Hey, gorgeous," he murmured, helping himself to a cup of fresh coffee and then perching on one of the stools by the breakfast bar.

Bruce turned and smiled at him. "Morning, beautiful," he countered, flipping the bacon rashers over to cook them through. "How's the back today?"

Clint shrugged; he didn't notice the dull ache in his wing stumps much anymore, it was just there all the time. But he felt that prickle of anxiety as he built himself up to the announcement he wanted to make. "I… They're okay," he said shyly, then added, "Would you… Will you help me grow… Grow them out? My… My wi… Well…"

"Yes. Of course I will," Bruce replied, turning around properly to look at Clint. He turned the heat down on the frying pan and crossed the kitchen to wrap Clint in a bear hug, hugging him tight and close. "Of course I will, I'll be here, help you and love you and them all over."

"I… Thank you," Clint said softly, nuzzling Bruce's neck. "I love you so much."

*~*~*

It took six months for Clint's wings to grow out. Bruce researched how to support them and help them grow, reading about bird rehabilitation, studying every word Warren Worthington the Third wrote about his own experience being bestowed with wings, and even emailed the man himself. He learned how to bind the joints as the wings grew in weight and size so the joints didn't stretch abnormally, how to gently exercise the muscles five times a day to develop the strength in them, how to preen the feathers and groom them so they were straight and clean.

Clint's wings were vast, six-feet across each span, and coloured like a kestrel's wings. Red and black striped on top, like a tiger, then light and mottled underneath, and soft as silk all over. He practiced with Bruce's help flexing them, moving them, right as they grew into little prickly shrubs then flourished into proper wings. He had to keep exercising his torso, or found himself struck with major back pain and core pain due to his body adjusting to the change in weight and balance, but he slowly learned to live with his wings.

His favourite hobby was enveloping Bruce in them, wrapping him up and holding him close in a feathery, intimate hug. Bruce would curl up beside him and preen his feathers, straightening them, fussing over each one, where it sat, how it shone. Bruce oiled them in the winter with sweet almond oil to protect them from damage from the cold or the fire place, and generally loved all over the two wings with every bone in his body.

Clint learned to trust Bruce, and Bruce never broke that trust.

[PUBLIC] Hulk Arts Fest!

2013-07-09T20:33:26Z

Hulk Art Fest

It begins! For the write up, please check out this post to read the backstory.

So another post is needed, because now I need requests. Yes! Request ALL the things!

I will draw ANYTHING. Please give me lots to draw. I don't promise it'll be perfect - far from it, the whole idea of this is that it's about me getting better - but I'm willing to try. And if you hate it? Tell me! I'll draw it again!

I've drawn the following before:
- Horses/equine beasties (inc. Pegasus & alicorns)
- MLP style ponies
- Pokemon
- Chibi people

I'm happy drawing:
- Animals
- Original characters
- Canon characters
- Pokemon
- Monsters
- Animal Crossing Mayors
- Anything? I'd probably struggle with cars but I'll try!!

But I want requests for ANYTHING. Eight legged dragon-griffon hybrid? BRING IT ON.

All I ask is you go hop skip to my handy Google Docs form and fill it in. Don't be shy! It's just 2 questions and you get free stuff - excellent, eh?

Either way, please share this lots so I can get better at art by drawing things you fabulous people request.

Thanks LJ babbies ❤

This is cross-posted a million places: sorry if you see it more than once!

(Proper update on Thursday :3)

[public] Codeses.

2013-06-05T07:09:52Z

SO because you're all awesome, I was wondering if anyone had a European PIN code for any of these games:

Castlevania: Lords of Shadow - Mirror of Fate

Monster Hunter 3 Ultimate (Nintendo 3DS version)

Luigi's Mansion 2

Lego City Undercover: The Chase Begins

Donkey Kong Country Returns 3D

Animal Crossing: New Leaf

They won't use/haven't used? Those are the little things that come in your game cases that look like this:

I'll draw you something, make you something, throw money at you, give you my eternal love, send you candy, write you fic, breed and EV train you pokémon, give you shiny things, ANYTHING if you have 1 of these codes I can have.

Help me Obi-Wan Flisti, you're my only hope!

Positivity.

2013-05-13T17:18:47Z

I don't want work to ruin my life.

So, something positive to counterbalance the horrible.

Blissey pokedoll by sorjei ❤ She's perfect, and fat, and soft, and I adore her. She's my little piece of positivity for today; even Dashie likes her:

Such a cute little Pokedoll: I can't wait to show her off to pkmncollectors and at Expo :3

I saw someone else doing this, so...

2013-05-05T19:06:04Z

I thought I'd try it.

I'm struggling so badly at the moment with my shoulder mainly, so I'm going to try posting something regularly that I'm happy or thankful to have in my life. Just to remind me that, contrary to what my head says, not everything is a steaming pile of shit.

First one is easy.

My baby doge. Missy literally keeps me going, she makes me smile and laugh and gives the very best cuddles. No matter what else happens, she's always there, always a little happy snuggle bum who loves being fussed and makes a big fuss back. She loves to sit behind me and be a heat pad on my shoulder, licking the bits that are full of fluid and hurting the most, and when I have to do exercises she sits with me. My sling is also a hammock for a doggie nose, which is so cute.

I lubs my doge. She is a big thing I am thankful for, even when she stuffs her tongue in my ear!!!

(I'm also seeing Iron Man 3 tomorrow OMG OMG OMG so excited!)

[FIC] Hand in Hand

2013-01-28T16:39:05Z

Title: and in Hand
Fandoms: CU/Pokèmon
Chapters: 1-4/?
Characters/Pairings: lint Barton/Bruce Banner, Tony Stark/Steve Rogers. Avengers cast + XMen The Last Stand ensemble.
Rating: ventual R with probably NC-17 sometime.
Summary: hen the world we live in is threatened, the Avengers and their Pokèmon have to act. But things are not quite what they seem on the Helicarrier, and there’s a third force at play that threatens one of the team.

Hand in Hand from the start on AO3

Follow the tag on Tumblr

Merry Christmas!

2012-12-25T14:37:08Z

Love you all. Hope your day is peaceful and enjoyable!

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

Minidolls!

2012-12-18T11:02:05Z

I've posted this to Twitter, too.

Minidolls GB! 2 payments; initial is $10 per doll, including item & shipping to me from Gin. Shipping to you is $6.50.

Claims:
Pikachu
Mew
Celebi
Shaymin
Darkrai
Arceus
Jirachi
Deoxys
Manaphy
Victini -
chariflame
Keldeo - floette
Meloetta

Comment to claim!

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

[FIC] Puppy Love

2012-11-17T09:26:27Z

Title: Puppy Love
Fandom: Avengers (MCU)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Bruce/Clint
Genre: Fluff, established relationship
Summary: Bruce wants to make Clint happy, and so brings Logan into their lives. He didn't count on learning to hate his 4-legged competitor for Clint's affections.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. They are Marvel's, and we can just pretend this might happen.

That first Christmas that Logan was in their lives, Bruce realised it was entirely possible to hate an animal.

All Clint had asked for was a puppy. Bruce had trawled the internet, shelters, pounds, for weeks trying to find a puppy who'd be ready for Christmas and who'd hopefully been male. Logan was a twelve week old German Shepherd puppy when Bruce dropped him off with Tony and Steve on Christmas Eve to be collected first thing Christmas morning after Bruce disposed of all the cream and simply had to go and get more for their Christmas money.

Clint instantly loved the puppy. Bruce had sat him on the bed, his little red collar jingling with the ID tag he'd bought and his tail wagging like his life depended on it. Carrying the wriggling bundle of fluff home through the snow inside his jacket had been interesting, but seeing Clint's face when the puppy bounced over to him, properly lighting up for the first time since they'd come home, had been worth it. He just looked so excited to have the little guy, and even Bruce, a perpetual cat person, had to admit the pup was cute.

Clint spent that Christmas in bed with a fractured pelvis, Bruce wheeling in food, TV, entertainment, presents and anything else Clint wanted. He soon taught the little dog to sit, speak, lie down, roll over and fetch, and was positively delighted every time the dog brought his little red ball back.

What Bruce didn't tell Clint about was Logan chewing his baby teeth out on their Folio edition of Lord of the Rings. And then vomiting Frodo's adventures all over the couch. For two days.

As Bruce sat there, frantically scrubbing dog sick off of the red silk cushions, cursing the tiny bundle of adorable fluff, when said bundle of adorable fluff appeared with his glasses in his mouth. Bruce watched in horror as the puppy crunched through them, spat them out, then jumped on Clint's lap and kissed his face.

Bruce then swept up the glass and plastic so when Clint did his rehab he didn't see. He wanted to keep that light in Clint's eyes and on his face, the happiness at having the little puppy making his partner instantly brighten. It was worth it.

When they went back to work at the Times Square office, Bruce grudgingly agreed to let the puppy sleep in his office.

Mistake.

Apparently, Logan was the only dog in America that couldn't tell what was a real plant and what was artificial. This wouldn't be a problem if he also couldn't tell what was a real plant and what was a woman's leg.

After that, Clint had to have Logan in his office.

When Bruce's birthday came around, they went to the Hamptons on holiday. Logan came too. Their first day, the dog stepped on a piece of glass and needed Bruce to patch him up, sacrificing one of his very favourite navy socks to cover the intricate bandaging job to heal the cut. That was also the first night Bruce slept on the sofa because 'Logan's hurt and wants his daddy'.

Bruce went to sleep muttering about dogs and their idiot owners.

In the morning, Clint brought him coffee and Logan gave him a wet sloppy kiss. Though Bruce was sure Logan was laughing at him as he limped after Clint's heels.

When Bruce got hurt driving home when a semi ran a red light and landed himself in hospital, he was glad Logan existed. Because when he got home to convalesce, he found that the dog had wholly moved into bed with Clint to take care of him. The idiot animal even curled up on the sofa with Bruce as he settled into his home-office and would bark at the door when Clint came home, so Bruce could move to the sofa so he didn't look like he'd been working instead of resting.

The first night he was able to go back to bed with all bones healed, he intended to make the most of it. Instead he came out of the bathroom to find the goddamn dog in bed with Clint, spooned against his back, and the blonde passed out beside him.

"Dog, move," he said quietly, nudging Logan's shoulder. The dog sighed and screwed his face up. "Seriously, mush. Go. Go on. Look there's a- Oh hell. Keep the damn bed, chair's more comfortable anyway," he muttered, curling up on the sofa.

The real clincher was their anniversary night. The dog tripped the pair of them over, sending Bruce on his ass with Clint on top of him and the dog licking his face. "Nope, enough, I am done," he said, getting to his feet and putting his jacket back on, straightening out his shirt. "That dog is a pain in my ass and has been since I bought him."

He was shouting then, the dog cowering with Clint on the floor, which was his last sight as he stormed out of the front door.

Bruce made it to the lift before his resolve broke. He turned back and nearly ran to the front door, then reconsidered.

When he came back it was gone midnight, but he had what he'd gone looking for. He slipped into their apartment and found Clint red eyed on the sofa, Logan curled at his side. Bruce hated that the dog flinched when he reached out to him, but persisted, and produced what he'd gone out to get.

He laid it in its bag on Clint's lap. "Open it," he said, rubbing the soft fur behind Logan's ear. Clint looked at him, considered arguing, but just mutely opened the paper bag.

Inside was a photograph frame with a picture of the three of them - Bruce, Clint and Logan - on their holiday to the Hamptons. Bruce's sunglasses were on Logan's panting, smiling face, and both Bruce and Clint were laughing happily to the camera. The frame had a word, written in purple glitter and a childlike font; just simply the word 'Family'.

Clint looked up at Bruce and smiled softly. "It's taken you three years to realise he loves you as much as me. Because you're his family too."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, and him," Bruce replied, kissing the dog's head and receiving a kiss in return. "New rule. He can sleep in bed but only if I'm invited too."

"Deal."

"Oh and if he eats any more of my footwear I'm turning him into footwear."

"You hear that buddy?" Clint asked, ruffling up Logan's fur, "I think he likes you."

Okay. Maybe hate was too strong a word.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

Happy Halloween!

2012-10-31T17:17:00Z

Snagged from moon_blitz

In honour of All Hallow's Eve, I'm inviting trick-or-treaters to my 'door.' Comment "trick-or-treat" to this post and...well, you know the drill. Treats can be anything that strikes my fancy (pics of fave actors or pairings, one sentence fics, graphics, a few words why I'm glad to have you on my flist, etc. etc.).

The more "houses" to visit the more fun it'll be, so go ahead, open your journal and help spread the fun!

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

WHOOPSIE

2012-10-07T18:15:07Z

MY LAST POST WAS A MONTH AGO.

Sorry ladies and gentlemen!

I am, firstly, still alive! Although I have been struck down, once again, with a cold that started as a runny nose, progressed to tonsilitis then floored me with a double powered attack of chest infection and sinus infect. Bastard. I had to take 2 days off work, that's how bad it was. Now I just cough like a 50-a-day smoker :D

UGH. What else is new?

Money is horrible. Again. Despite my pay rise and my teaching hours, October is going to be a tight month. I'm glad I preordered White2 and Muse's new album last month, which meant I could still buy them. A little careful budgeting and I managed to fix it so all my riding and driving lessons are paid for, my Expo tickets are bought, phone bill is covered and I've got some extra for emergencies (like trips to the doctors, cosplay bits and getting stranded at work because my dad is a forgetful idiot).

WHITE 2. EXCITEMENT. What are you guys plotting for teams? I'm so overwhelmed I have no idea right now. I'd love to play through with Skye's team with one change, which would be Omastar, Zoroark, Bastiodon, Zebstrika, Bisharp and Porygon2, BUT I have also major temptations to playthrough with an Avengers themed team. How do you guys like Hulk the Tyranitar, Hawkeye the Pidgeot, Widow the Bisharp, Iron Man the Scizor, Thor the Electross and I have no ideas for Captain America. Because I don't want two birds.

IDK. Maybe I'll just go with a Marvel general naming theme?

EXPO. MORE EXCITEMENT. I'm there on Saturday with my ma (who's excited to be fit enough to come! She's lost 5 stone in 6 months *_* AMAZING) and I shall be your resident Doctor Bruce Banner (providing the world lets me have a goddamn PURPLE SHIRT FFFFFFF). Anyone else going?

BIRTHDAY. EVEN MORE EXCITEMENT. It's my birthday on November 1st! I want to have a massive party on LJ, complete with a comment ficathon and RPing and fun shit. Who's in? It'll probably spill into Tumblr and Twitter knowing me, too, haha. SO YES. PARTY HATS ON LADIES AND GENTS.

Urgh.... Riding? Riding is good. My instructor is great, I really like her, AND I GOT TO RIDE MY OLIVER TODAY. He was a stubborn little git but I adore him so much. Lickle babby boy <3

Work's work. I'm now doing my first aid training, so I can officially be a college first aider, as well as my emergency medication training. I've got such a range of students, both to support and to teach, that it's a real challenge this year, but I am enjoying it. The teaching hours just fly by every day, it's so weird! But I seem to be getting there; one of my students was overheard telling another teacher that 'Your (other teacher's) lessons are so boring in comparison to Hari's'. I about died. Seriously <3 I have the greatest job.

It comes with downsides, yes, but I really do enjoy it. I have to remind myself frequently that I am doing something worthwhile, and that it is a good job and I love it, because I have 2 very challenging students and there are days I'd rather just bloody walk than go to another lesson with them.

To close, have a shot of Oliver once I'd tacked him up. Bootilicious <3

[FIC] Bond

2012-08-16T20:35:37Z

Title:- Bond
Author:- carriesagun @ LJ | irradiations @ AO3 | brucefucking-banner @ Tumblr
Fandom:- Avengers (MCU)
Characters/Pairing:- Clint Barton/Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov
Rating:- PG
Prompt:- comicdrabbles prompt #007 - Bond
Genre:- Hurt/Comfort(?)
Word Count:- 5 x 100 & 1 x 300
Spoilers:- N/A
Warnings:- Very brief description of injury
Summary:- Bruce just knows Clint's in trouble, but why?
Disclaimer:- I don't own them. Or they'd have had far more on-screen time together.
Notes:- This is a series of 5 100 word drabbles, concluded with a single 300 word drabble.

Bruce woke up, heart in his mouth, sweat-slick, fists tangled up in the bed sheet. He checked the bedside clock, blinking at the garish green numbers. 01:37. Which made it 8:37 in the morning where Clint was.

Bruce slumped back into the covers, fingers trawling through his hair, taking some deep breaths. He rolled onto his side, tucking down into the bed, and staring at the far wall, heart still racing in his chest.

When sleep didn't come soon enough, he got up, dressing quickly and heading for the bridge. He had a bad, bad feeling about Clint's latest mission.

*~*~*

"This is bad."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Really? Sarcasm?"

"Nat, I've got at least 3 bullets digging in, no clear shot and there's a suicide bomber headin' this way. It doesn't get much worse."

There was a pause. Natasha pushed back harder against the wall which was gradually being disintegrated by heavy weapons fire, glancing at the make-shift bandage on Clint's thigh, blood blooming through. She swore under her breath in Russian, rubbing her eye wearily. "We've got to get back to the jet."

"Really." Clint winced at her look, the narrowing of the eyes, so reminiscent of Bruce. "Let's go."

*~*~*

"You mean… They're not in radio contact?" Bruce crossed his arms, tapping a foot. Maria's hand twitched towards her gun but she stopped herself, taking a breath

"It's normal, Bruce. Behind enemy lines-"

"Something's wrong, Maria. Please try them again."

Maria sighed, then turned to her comms, dialling into the frequency for Natasha and Clint. "Romanov, Barton, you guys topside yet?"

Static.

"I told you, something's wrong."

"Doctor Banner, please-"

"Please don't tell me to calm down, Maria. There is something wrong."

"How can you know that?"

"I don't know. I just really need you to find out what's happening."

*~*~*

"Barton, come in."

"Maria? Busy here." Clint strung another arrow, took aim, fired. Retreated a few steps to the next piece of cover. His leg hurt, his arms hurt, that stupid graze on his face hurt. He didn't have time for nice chats with HQ.

"Do you need advance pick up?"

Clint frowned before he answered. "Yes, but how-"

"Doesn't matter. Give me a landmark so I can guide the Quinjet in," Maria replied, skidding across the floor on her wheely chair to her radar desk.

"There's a temple, blue dome, 500 metres away. I'll bring Nat."

"See you soon."

*~*~*

Maria looked over at Bruce, his fingers steepled under his chin. She smiled and nodded, then went back to her main desk, focusing on bringing her agents home.

Bruce stood, that nagging, aching feeling in his chest still there but lessened. He'd known; something inside him had known they were in trouble, that Clint was in danger, and it had woken him up. They'd have been attending a funeral in a few days if that nagging feeling hadn't stirred him.

He went back to their room, choosing a book and curling up in a chair to wait for Clint's return.

*~*~*

The Helicarrier's medical bay was like a second home to Clint by now. He was even on first name terms with the attending on the graveyard shift, which is why he had all three bullets they'd pulled out of his thigh in a handy pot by his bed. They were pretty big, and had been exceptionally lucky shots.

"You're a bit late coming home aren't you?" Clint looked up from the leaflet entitled 'Caring for your bullet wounds' which Natasha had left him, his whole demeanour changing as he saw his partner standing in the doorway.

"No flowers?"

"The gas station was closed." Bruce smiled, strolling in with his usual air of nonchalance, taking the only seat in the room heavily. "You okay?"

"I know you're desperate. Grab the chart, Bruce," Clint replied, scanning the rest of the leaflet as Bruce scanned through his chart. It was quicker than repeating what the doctor's told Clint.

"You got shot in the ass."

"It was my thigh, actually."

Bruce put the chart back, kissing Clint on the forehead. "Glad you're home."

Clint smiled. "Maria said you told her we were in trouble. How'd you know?"

Bruce started to go pink. He had a lot of theories, most of them far more new-age than his usual logical trains of thought, but some were too obvious to ignore. "I don't know. I woke up, and I just knew you needed help. Maria thought I was crazy but…" He shrugged.

Clint smiled back, his personality lending itself far more to exploring ridiculous ideas than Bruce's. "It's like… A psychic bond, like from a kid to their parents," he said, looking intently at the canula in his hand.

"Something like that. I'm just really, really glad it worked."

Clint laid his hand on Bruce's. "Me too."

[FIC] Dinner Date

2012-08-05T09:10:31Z

Title:- Dinner Date
Author:- carriesagun @ LJ
Fandom:- Avengers (MCU)
Characters/Pairing:-Clint Barton/Bruce Banner, cameos by rest of the team.
Rating:- PG
Genre:- Fluff/Domesticity
Word Count:- 2,381
Spoilers:- N/A
Warnings:- N/A
Summary:- Bruce and Clint throw a dinner party, with mixed success. Tony winds up paying for being late.
Disclaimer:- I don't own them. Or they'd have had far more on-screen time together.
Notes:- Written for the wonderful viperfox's spiffy birthday! Because I as usual read the wrong date and thus her actual present will be late, and this bunny has been stuck in my head for weeks.

A little context: Clint has an apartment in New York, which he and Bruce have claimed as home away from helicarrier. That's where this little ficlet is set.

Everything had to be perfect. There was a timetable taped up on the fridge, a clock stuck next to it with a magnet that had been set according to the UK speaking clock and adjusted accordingly. Clint had winced at the cost of the call, but Bruce was too busy setting the clock down to the last minute to notice. Clint didn't worry about money, but he did object to Bruce calling a machine to check the time when he was wearing a perfectly good Seiko.

"Clint, it's six forty-five. You were meant to be dressed by six thirty." Clint looked up from his seat, perched up on a stool at the breakfast bar in nothing but a towel, watching Bruce carefully pluck needle-fine bones from a salmon and hoping to distract the scientist with his lack of clothing.

Clint made a light whining sound in his throat. "No, you can't attend our inaugural dinner party in your birthday suit. Yes, you can wear that striped blue shirt that's in my wardrobe. No you can't drink Thor's Asgardian mead again," Bruce said in response, not looking up from his fish as he said it.

"Fine," Clint replied dramatically, getting up from the stool and strolling away, pausing only to toss his towel in the hamper and finish the journey naked. Even from that distance he could feel Bruce's eyes raking down his back, so just as he turned into the bedroom doorway he waved at Bruce, pleased to see a touch of pink rising up his partner's face.

By the time he was dressed (thirty minutes behind schedule, Bruce noticed with a shake of his head), Bruce had filleted the fish and was adding olive oil to the vegetables he was about to put in the oven on a low heat. "Anything I can do?" Clint asked, rolling his sleeves up and striding close, stealing a slice of pepper before Bruce could chase him off.

As Clint stood there, munching on the piece of stolen food and looking as innocent as he possibly could, Bruce couldn't stay annoyed for long. "You're incorrigible," he said fondly, shaking his head.

"You can add the glasses to the table if you want. Water on the left, wine on the front, and put the metal tankard at the head of the table. I'm not mopping up mead if Thor gets drunk and breaks another glass."

Clint saluted. "Yes sir," he said, marching off to complete his task and leave Bruce to stress over the arrangement of prawns on the dish for his starter.

Bruce's menu had started out simple; order in Chinese from the Bo Wah. That had quickly changed to mixed seafood platter (prawns, lobster, mussels, crab claws and poached salmon), fillet mignon steaks for main with Mediterranean vegetables, and chocolate brownie sundaes for dessert. All accompanied by freshly home baked bread and locally produced butter (well, as locally as could be managed). Clint wasn't entirely sure his partner had slept in the last 24 hours.

When the Avengers had been given downtime to rest and recuperate, Clint had envisaged a long weekend wherein neither he nor Bruce left the bedroom and went back to work basically unable to walk. Instead it was Saturday night and they were getting ready for a dinner party and Bruce had scarcely been in the bedroom to sleep, let alone anything else. Of course there'd been the shower. And the couch. But Clint still felt a little pouty as he placed the glasses down gingerly, making sure they lined up square.

Just as he'd finished, the doorbell rang. Two rings, polite, Steve. Sure enough, when Clint opened the door having buzzed him in, Steve was standing there. Neatly turned out as ever, with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other. "Captain," Clint said, nodding respectfully, a coy smile on his face.

"Come on now, Clint. Not at work any more, it's Steve. I uh, didn't know which to bring, so I brought both," Steve explained, indicating the gifts.

Clint smiled easily. "If you can't drag Bruce away from the kitchen long enough, I'll thank you from us both," he said, pushing the door open wider so Steve could come in.

Bruce peeled the oven gloves off his hands, piling them up neatly, and crossed the room to shake Steve's hand after Steve had offloaded the gifts to Clint. "Good to see you, Steve," Bruce said, pleased he didn't sound as flustered and harried as he felt. "Clint's on drink duty, so just ask him if you- Clint that's a flagon, not a vase - Want anything."

"Thanks doctor," Steve replied, selecting a comfortable arm chair to settle into where he could watch the two men in the kitchen and still see the door. "This is nice."

"Thanks," Clint and Bruce replied in unison, smiling warmly at each other before returning to their tasks. Clint arranged the flowers into the vase (having informed Bruce that a flagon was just a vase with a handle) and put the champagne in the fridge. Bruce was fussing at his salad again, so Clint poured them both a glass of white then offered Steve a drink.

Clint was halfway through fetching Steve's beer when the door opened and Natasha stalked in. "It's customary to knock, Nat," Clint said, handing Steve the bottle and a glass.

"Mhm," Natasha replied, glancing around the room, scoping it out. The action was more habit than anything, checking exits, windows, corners. Then she turned her attention to her hosts, a small smile gracing her lips. "It's nice. Keeping secrets again, Clint?" she asked, giving him a friendly hug and nodding at Bruce. "And he cooks," she added, leaning over the dressed seafood platter interestedly.

"All fresh this morning."

"He was up at 5 to get to the docks."

"Actually it was four."

Natasha had watched their little interplay with a knowing look on her face, one Steve noticed and smiled in response to. She shook her head, grabbed the nearest wineglass that was full (Bruce's) and curled herself up, catlike, in the stool Clint had previously occupied. She sipped the wine, leaving scarlet lipstick stains on the rim, and licked her lips at the medium flavour.

Small talk was made and pointedly steered away from work. Natasha and Clint caught Steve up on sports like Formula One racing and NASCAR, while Bruce fretted about every detail and didn't hear a single word that was said, checking his watch occasionally, anxious that both Thor and Tony were late.

Fussing at a piece of lettuce for the thousandth time, Clint got up and left Natasha arguing with Steve about motorbikes, standing close to Bruce, hand on his forearm. "They'll be here."

Bruce looked at Clint, a little wild eyed. "I can't hold the salmon poaching forever. Otherwise it becomes soup." Sighing, hating the nagging tone he'd somehow adopted, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can you call Tony? Threaten him with Natasha or something."

Clint nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to Bruce's cheek, then pulling his worn phone out of his pocket, stepping into the bedroom and closing the door to make the call.

Tony answered on the fourth ring. "Birdbrain?"

"Tony, if you don't get your ass into this apartment in the next five minutes, I will tell Fury exactly who is responsible for Bruce unleashing hell on downtown New York."

"I'm only five minutes-"

"Twenty five." Clint sighed, not hiding the annoyance in the tone. "Is Thor with you? Please, at least tell me he's with you."

There was an unintelligible reply, a burst of static, then Tony's voice. "Yeah, Point Break's here. I think he's been on the mead already, if you-"

"One thing, Tony. One thing. Your science boyfriend asked you to play nice and turn up for one thing and you've managed to be pretty much thirty minutes late and gotten Thor drunk. Congratulations. New low." He slammed his thumb down on the little red phone, leaning back hard against the door.

Clint didn't argue much with Tony anymore; they'd all settled into a pattern, and in fact the two enjoyed pranking each other and pretty much everyone else in the helicarrier. But, when Tony's devil may care attitude affected Bruce, this 'Birdbrain' was not going to let it go.

*~*~*~*~*

"Agent Barton sounded upset," Thor practically yelled in Tony's ear. When Tony had finally picked Thor up from a field outside the city, it was clear the demi-god had already started on the large container of mead he had tucked under his arm.

And the son of a bitch wouldn't even feel it in the morning. "Yeah, he's. Ah, he's fine. Hey, how much of that mead's left?"

"There is plenty for any human party."

"I think I might need some."

*~*~*~*~*

Clint was grinding his teeth as the assembled group plus the two late comers sat around the table, bought specifically for the occasion. Thor was being particularly loud and theatrical, explaining an awesome battle with a creature called a Bilgesnipe, which sounded as vile as its name.

Clint skewered a prawn on his fork, glancing to his right where Bruce was breaking up a crab claw with a nut cracker. Bruce had told Tony his tardiness was fine, had clearly tucked that disappointment away, and Clint tried to forget it. But he'd seen the look on Bruce's face, and that stuck in his memory. And, Birdbrain or not, Clint would have revenge. He had a good idea of precisely how he'd do it.

He had a date with Tony's precious suit.

"More prawns?" Clint visibly jumped, glancing down at the proffered plate, Tony's smile a little like the Tincan that caught the magnet.

"Sure, thanks Tony," Clint replied, taking a couple of prawns and adding them to his plate. With the concept and plan in mind, it was a lot easier to enjoy listening to Thor's epic war experience and tales of Loki's tricks since returning to Asgard.

"Of course, I told his jailer to not trust a word, but he did. Now he wanders the land as a... Well, a pig is what you Midgardians would call it. A fine joke to Loki, though I fear the jailer's wife may think otherwise." They all laughed, the atmosphere visibly lighter, easy, genuine smiles on all their faces.

Bruce cooked each steak individually, each carefully timed for the perfect level of cooked; from Steve's well done right through to Natasha's nearly bloody. Adding the vegetables, Clint did waiter duty, handing everything out to the right person.

They got onto the subject of work, inevitably. Bruce stayed quiet, just listening; sometimes he felt wholly disconnected from the Avengers. Clint and Natasha might not have 'superpowers', but at least they were themselves during all those missions, saving the world. No one knew Bruce Banner; he was the Hulk first and the man second.

But he was happy enough to listen. Clint's hand on his thigh reminded him that for every cloud there was a shiny, beautiful silver lining. He smiled, that knowing smile as though he knew a big secret and wouldn't tell, mopping up some oil with a slice of bread.

By the time dessert came out, all of them except Bruce and Steve were showing 'signs of merriment', and Thor so aptly named them, and Clint promptly stopped drinking. He wanted to stay sober enough to make sure Bruce got tucked up into bed. Or something like that, anyway. His partner burnt through alcohol like Steve did with his advanced metabolism, so within an hour Bruce'd be sober as a judge.

No one stayed, aside from Thor who sat on the couch and promptly fell into a deep sleep, head tipped back against the back of the couch and cup in hand. Everyone was too keen to get back to their own bed, thankful for the time together but eager for the downtime, too.

Once Clint had packed Natasha safely into a cab (more concerned for the driver's safety than Natasha's), he made his way back up the stairs, pushing their apartment door open quietly to avoid awakening Thor.

Bruce was stacking plates and cutlery into the dishwasher, trying to be quiet. At some point he'd tucked a throw over the sleeping Norse demi-god, then put a bottle of water beside him and left him to sleep.

"Aw, look at our god, all tuckered out." Bruce twirled on his heel, a spoon in his out-stretched hand, and visibly relaxed when he saw it was Clint.

"All that mead. Wonder what percentage that stuff is?" Clint closed and dead bolted the door, drawing the chain across just for good measure. He was starting to adjust to civilian life, but he didn't like leaving anything to chance.

"Maybe we should test it."

"Clint, last time that happened you wound up in the medical ward with alcohol poisoning."

"I meant for you to try it."

"Oh, so I can end up in the medical ward, huh?" Bruce laughed, shutting the dishwasher and leaving whatever was left for the morning. "I'm tired."

"I'm not surprised." Clint was in the little kitchen now, and looped his arms around Bruce's waist, tugging him closer. "So, first dinner party. Okay?"

Bruce smiled, pressing his face against Clint's neck. "Yeah, it was... Nice." He paused, considering his words closely, then said, "And thanks for keeping your tongue with Tony. I'm sure he'll pay for being late, but I don't need to know."

"Oh, he will. Now, can we make it back to the bedroom or-" Bruce indicated Thor. "Bedroom's good. Race ya."

*~*~*~*~*

A memo came around the Friday after their dinner party.

"All S.H.I.E.L.D members,

Whoever thought it would be funny to repaint Mr Stark's Iron Man suit purple and write 'Fondue' on it; it wasn't. May I also request that the standard codpiece and chest piece be returned. It is highly unprofessional for Mr Stark to be seen in public with Madonna's bra and hot pants on, particularly when members of the Council are visiting.

Sincerely,

Director Fury."

"Clint?"

"Yes, Bruce?"

"Just... Tell me there's at least one photograph."

"I've got a whole album."

"Good. Just... Checking in."

[FIC] Sound the Bugle

2012-07-17T10:03:45Z

Title:- Sound the Bugle
Author:- carriesagun @ LJ/irradiations @ Tumblr/Twitter/AO3
Beta:- techno4tomcats
Fandom:- Avengers (MCU)
Characters/Pairing:-Clint Barton/Bruce Banner, cameos by rest of the team.
Rating:- R (For dark themes).
Genre:- Angst/Hurt/Comfort
Word Count:- 3,385
Spoilers:- N/A
Warnings:- Injury leading to disability.
Summary:- It was such a simple mission. In, out, done. How did it all go so wrong?
Disclaimer:- I don't own them. Or they'd have had far more on-screen time together.
Notes:- Wholly inspired by the song of the same name, Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams. My first foray into something quite so dark, but I hope you'll enjoy it.

The mission was simple; Natasha would infiltrate, scare them into the open, Clint would pick them off, they'd all go home to a job well done and everything would be normal. Because that was how things worked around here.

Natasha pushed the arm's dealer's men into Clint's line of sight, waiting for that subtle whine of an arrow loosed with deadly accuracy. A sound that never came. Without a second thought she dispatched the men easily, then stood among the bodies, hand to her comm, trying to stay calm while her heart climbed her throat. "Clint?" Nothing. "Barton, answer me."

Silence.

"Answer me now you son of a bitch," she hissed, turning to where he should have been, scanning the dark sky for anything, out of the ordinary or not. Silence.

For the first time in her life on such a simple mission, Natasha Romanov was scared. What she had told Loki was right - she didn't love Clint, not in the way everyone thought she did, anyway, but they were a team and his safety impacted on her own. And so she ran, ran faster than she ever had before, continually saying Clint's name into the comm, a shrill note of panic now there that hadn't been previously.

His hide was close. She could hear her own voice coming from a comm somewhere off to her left - someone had gotten close enough to Clint to rip the comm from his ear. Definitely not a good sign. She checked her surroundings, finding nothing but silence and desert dust, and crept into the makeshift hide, gun drawn at her side.

From the sheer quantity of blood there was in the hide, she presumed he was dead. She pressed the back of her gloved hand to her lips, closing her eyes slowly, holstering the gun. It seemed pointless holding it. Whatever had happened, she'd missed it.

And Clint Barton was dead.

She knelt beside him, noting the absolute mess that was the middle of his back, skin and flesh ripped up even through his vest, bow missing, face down in the dust. She felt for his neck, and half screamed when he reacted to her touch, nothing more than a twitch, but life.

"Clint? Holy shit, Clint? Can you-" She lay on the floor beside him, turning his head against every piece of medical training she had ever been given, so she could watch his face, judge his reactions.

He muttered something unintelligible. Her hand went back to her comm, this time tuned into the wavelength of the plane waiting to pick them up. "I need medical, Barton's down." Her voice was calm, the pulse leaping in her throat the only clue as to her current state.

"What?" came the reply.

"Don't make me repeat it." A threat holding deadly intent.

There was a pause. She hated them then, could almost hear the conversation - 'This is a joke, right?' - and wanted to scream in frustration. He could be bleeding to death while they tried to work out whether it was April Fools Day or not.

"ETA 2 minutes. Can you give us any details for the medical team?"

"He's… Look, just hurry up."

*~*~*

Bruce Banner didn't sleep well when Clint was away. The bed was too empty, he wasn't being huddled up to all night, no one to talk to about how Tony nearly blew the whole carrier up or bring home cupcakes to. All the things that shouldn't work in their line of work, but that they both needed.

Instead, he was sitting in the lab, typing away at a report on alien technology for Fury's next meeting with the council and trying to ignore the burn in his eyes from staring at the computer for too long. The door swished open, and Tony walked in, eyeballing Bruce with a meaningful glare which he had clearly rehearsed extensively with Steve which basically said 'Go to bed'.

"When I'm done with this," Bruce replied to the look, re-reading the last sentence he wrote to make sure none of those words had ended up in the report. When he was tired, odd words would slip into his work, and after including the word Banana in a deadly serious report about potassium as a stabiliser, he had learnt to double check everything.

"Make sure you do. Barton'll shoot me or something if I let you stay up past bedtime," Tony answered, grabbing a file to take back for some light reading. He didn't continue the conversation, just strolled out of the door with a wave over his shoulder.

"Night, Tony," Bruce said to himself, clattering away at the keys again to complete the report before bed. Tony was right; he usually was. Bruce should get some sleep, at least, but only once this was finished.

*~*~*

Natasha wasn't sure what was worse; Clint barely conscious in the hide, or Clint pretty much lucid and screaming to high heaven, because the morphine was taking too long to kick in and just wasn't strong enough to hold back the pain from his ruined back. She clutched his hand, tried to help, talking to him, asking him questions, near begging him to answer her.

He grabbed her elbow, a pause in the pain seeming to come over him, clarity in his eyes. "Don't let me die, please don't let me die, Tash, I have to get back, I have to."

"I won't, I won't," was all she could reply, swearing harshly in Russian to herself. "Think about it. About Bruce. What does he like doing?"

Clint couldn't answer. Pain had come back, wracking his body in endless waves, and she could just sit by helpless. She didn't pray. But she did cast a thought to the sky to end this - one way or another.

*~*~*

Bruce startled awake, aware of two things simultaneously; that his face was melded to the shape of his keyboard, and that someone's hand was on his shoulder. He sat up, blearily rubbing his eyes and turning to see his visitor. "Maria? What're-"

The look on her face made his stomach plummet to somewhere around his knees. "Get to the infirmary, Bruce. Just go," she said.

He didn't need telling twice. Their relationship was well known, it just wasn't really mentioned - fraternisation policies and all that. And he knew that right now the only place he needed to be was that hospital wing.

*~*~*

There was at least some blessing to be had in the stronger pain medication on the helicarrier. Clint was definitely not lucid enough for conversation, but still seemed to be aware of what went on around him, if the way his pupils dilated and his heart rate slowed as Bruce tore into the room, knocking a passing M.D to the floor in his rush.

Natasha looked up at him, standing up, ready for a confrontation or tears or something, and instead witnessed Bruce just walking to Clint's side, ignoring the fact that his partner was face down with a large dressing seeped in blood across the middle of his back, leaning down and planting a kiss on Clint's cheek. "S'okay, Clint, you did it, you came back, s'alright," he whispered, and Tasha felt her skin prickle, like she was watching something far too intimate for her eyes.

"I'll, just, I'll-"

"Stay, if you like. He'll probably want to speak to you when… He wakes up," Bruce replied, not even looking over at her.

She had expected him to ask her what had happened, every detail, to work it through in his analytical mind. He drew a chair up next to the bed, tangling his fingers around Clint's, and sat down heavily, his face completely neutral. Whatever was going on behind those intelligent eyes was anyone's guess. Natasha left him to it; she had to find the bastard who'd done this.

*~*~*

"So I told Tony, 'You can't expect a Hadron collider to be able to fit in a Quinjet, it just won't work', and you know what? The smarmy git actually found one that would fit. I mean, it's mad, but he did it. When you're better, I can take you to see it," Bruce said, running an update on everything that had happened since Clint had been away.

He didn't look when the doctor came in to change the dressing. It made no difference knowing what was under there; the outcome would be the same. Whatever that was.

"You've got to wake up, see? I can't deal with Tony's primadonna issues alone anymore, I'll kill him," he added, laughing softly. He saw a stray tuft of hair over Clint's ear, and smoothed it back gently, running his knuckles along his partner's cheek, the fear he'd had all night over-whelming him suddenly.

Bruce shuffled his chair nearer, rubbing his warm hands over Clint's cold forearm, stooping his head to kiss Clint's hand. "Please be okay. Just… Be okay. You did it, you promised you'd come back and you did, now come back to me. Okay?"

*~*~*

"He's been in there all night."

Tony looked at Steve, then back at his lab buddy, who was sat by the bedside of his clearly dying partner, and he rubbed his eyebrow tiredly. "Yeah, I noticed. Did anyone… I don't know, take him a drink or anything?"

"No Tony, they let the guy dehydrate. He's been drinking everything they bring him, but he won't move."

Tony sighed. "Have they told him?"

Steve huffed a sigh which was dangerously close to over-emotional. He wasn't ready to lose another team mate, not again, not after Bucky. "No. Not yet."

*~*~*

"Doctor Banner, there's no brain function at all and it would be-"

"Turn him off and I'm turning you off. Permanently." The doctor was clearly concerned that Bruce was starting to get angry; he was, in fact, in a state of terrifying calm. His lack of sleep should have made him snappy, but he was feeling more calm than he had in months. Quietly scared, frightened out of his wits that the one person he trusted and loved with all his heart was about to be ripped away from him, yes, but calm outwardly.

It had been three nights and four days since Clint had been brought in. His wound had begun to heal, but he didn't show a single sign of improving. His reactions had trailed off, heart rate and breathing slowing until they'd had to put him on life support, and now they wanted to turn him off.

Bruce was more than prepared to let the other guy share their mutual displeasure and disgust at this idea. "Don't stand there and tell me it'd be a kindness, or better for him, because you have no idea who he is or what he would want. You barely even know his name, he's nothing but a piece of paper to you. Well he means something to other people on this carrier. You touch that switch and you'll have a very angry complaint on your hands. And god help you if that happens."

The doctor span on his heel and stalked away. Bruce took up his seat by Clint's bed again, picking up the Wind in the Willows and starting reading again. "And so Toad returned to Toad Hall…"

*~*~*

Steve liked reading spy novels to Clint. When he thought no one was looking, he'd even put on the voices and act out scenes, trying to say a phrase that might help bring Clint back.

Tony would talk to him in a monotone. He explained that his theory was that he'd bore Clint back into consciousness so the archer could beat him senseless.

Natasha would just sit quietly, occasionally asking him a question. She had tried a selection of languages, choosing the most insulting phrases she knew, but they hadn't worked.

Bruce went to every meeting the S.H.I.E.L.D doctors held about Clint. And at every one, he repeated his threat, that if anyone went anywhere near the little white innocuous button that would cease the life support, he would personally end them. And good luck to anyone who got in his way.

They told him Clint would probably be paralysed. Bruce told them that it made no difference to him whatsoever, and if it mattered that much to S.H.I.E.L.D then they could take their job and ram it where the sun didn't shine.

He stopped working in the lab. He moved his pillows and duvet into Clint's side room, and slept there every night, only leaving when one of the other Avengers would come and relieve him.

*~*~*

"Hm, your horoscope says you're going to come into some money. Maybe it'll transfer over to me considering you're just a very nice decoration, Birdbrain," Tony said, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the edge of Clint's bed.

"Tony!" Steve scolded, his voice hushed like he was in a library. He wasn't entirely convinced that normal voices were okay in such a quiet place, something that Tony disagreed with vehemently. "He's still in there, and he's not just nice decoration. He's one of us."

Tony waved a hand, deflecting the scold with the action. "What? It's not like he's going to suddenly sit up and tell me-"

"Tony."

"What, I haven't-"
"Tony he's moving, Tony get the goddamn nurse or someone," Steve all but yelped, leaping to his feet and running from the room.

Tony looked over at Sleeping Beauty and, sure enough, his eyes were moving, rolling behind closed eyelids. "You lucky SOB," he muttered, a brief affectionate touch to Clint's arm and he was out into the corridor to announce the news to anyone who'd listen.

*~*~*

Bruce was standing in the queue at the cafeteria, a cup of coffee in hand, waiting to get to the front to order his lunch for later. No one spoke to him. He'd blown up at enough people over the last few weeks that they'd stopped asking him anything or even waving. He didn't care. What difference would it make, anyway?

"Bruce!"

Bruce glanced over at Steve, who was a little red in the face and grinning maniacally. "What? Did that doctor come back? Because I swear if he-"

"He moved."

Bruce dropped the cup. That didn't matter anymore, either.

*~*~*

Three days later, Clint was speaking. Not much, and not really to anyone but Bruce, but that was enough.

Even though the first thing he said was "I can't feel my legs".

*~*~*

Bruce didn't feel vindicated. He felt lucky, luckier than anyone else on the whole planet, because his Clint was back, was beautiful and speaking and smiling and Bruce just loved him. One evening he came to Clint's room, pushing a wheelchair and smiling conspiratorially.

"What're you up to, Banner?" Clint asked, frowning gently. So far he hadn't left the room once since waking up, stating he didn't want to go anywhere, though Bruce saw through that and saw that Clint didn't want to be seen. Clint thought he hid his feels well; Bruce could see through his defences like they were gossamer thread.

It was the middle of the night, in the middle of the night shift. The corridors were empty, and Bruce was kidnapping Clint and taking him out for a walk, whether his partner wanted to go or not. "We're going out."

"I'm not-"

"Shut up. It's happening, Clint, no matter how much you argue with me," Bruce replied, unplugging all Clint's leads and attaching his drip to the wheelchair. He stood there expectantly, waiting for Clint to move.

"If you hadn't noticed, I don't think I can walk."

"I'm not doing it for you. Get in the wheelchair," Bruce answered simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Tough love was going to have to be his mandate right then, or Clint would be forever reliant on others - one thing Bruce knew the archer would loathe. The more independence he could give Clint from the start, the better things would be. "Though, if you can't, I guess-" He let the phrase trail off, looking away, knowing exactly which buttons to press to get Clint working.

"Hold the goddamn blanket."

*~*~*

The first night back in their apartment was the best night of Bruce's life. Twelve weeks of living in a hospital room with Clint had nearly broken him, nearly taken him back to square one, but here was his partner, alive, wheeling himself around in a Stark Industries wheelchair and making a nuisance of himself all over the ship.

He put Clint's overnight bag on the bed, sitting down heavily and watching as Clint rolled around, taking in the little apartment as though it was the Taj Mahal. "You're okay?" he asked, nervous suddenly.

Clint looked up, smiling the most genuine smile he had in weeks. "I'm just… Glad to be home. Can the cripple get a kiss or something?"

Bruce pretended to consider that, but only after he had shot Clint a very withering look about using that term about himself, getting up and planting a kiss on Clint's lips. "You're not a cripple, Clint."

"The wheelchair prett-"

"Shut up. Okay, look, a few weeks ago they tried to get me to give them permission to turn you off. You were dead. Now you've just wheeled yourself back to our apartment. You're not a cripple, that's an… Awful word. Just don't use it, okay?"

Bruce implored Clint with his best Paddington Bear look. "You and those puppy dog eyes," Clint replied, wheeling himself over to the bed. "Hey, no one else's been in here while I've been gone, have they?"

Bruce started counting off his fingers, then winked. "Not even me. It's our bed, Clint, and I wasn't going to sleep in it until you got better."

Clint stared at him then, really looking at him. "You really believed I'd get better."

Bruce smiled softly. "The whole time. They told me you'd be paralysed, probably permanently, and I told them that I didn't care. I love you. Not the fact you can walk around. And, uh, I don't mean to rush you or anything, but it's been eight weeks and I'm desperate to sleep in my own bed again."

Clint laughed. "One track mind, Banner."

*~*~*

Clint sat in the hangar, watching someone work on an engine, desperate to get his hands greasy and work on some machinery himself. He'd taken to wheeling himself down here every morning once Bruce hopped off to the lab, then he'd do a wheelchair tour of the ship, ending in the cafeteria for lunch with Bruce and anyone else who happened to stop by (once they'd had 12 people sat around a table meant for 6), then the two of them would go to physio, and Bruce'd go back to the lab while Clint settled himself down to doing paperwork.

It wasn't his life. He didn't recall his life being so structure, predictable, before his accident, and yet contentment had spread through him, knowing what each day would bring. Natasha sometimes joined him, just walking beside him, their usual comfortable silence sometimes broken by news from the spy world or just idle chit chat, but more often they just walked together quietly.

Bruce liked it when Tasha walked with Clint. Clint was always happier during physiotherapy then, more keen to actually partake as he rattled off everything they'd talked about. And, if he was honest, Clint wouldn't be here but for Tasha.

*~*~*

The man who'd shot Clint turned up dead in the Hudson river. He had two gunshot wounds to the back of his head, and had a carbon fibre arrow shoved into his ribcage, right in the middle of his back. The case was declared unsolved.

*~*~*

Six months after the accident, Bruce wheeled Clint back onto the archery range. It was deserted but for Tony, Tasha and Steve, who were standing beside a lowered shooting platform, watching expectantly.

Clint's first shot was a bullseye. When he looked at Bruce, who was kneeling beside him, and realised they were both crying, he realised that this was all he'd ever wanted. Love. A family. Being a field agent over a desk agent didn't matter anymore.