The Black Paper Moon

echo in my heart

twilightscribe — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 05:53:20 GMT

Notes: For the 30 days of writing challenge on tumblr.
Title: echo in my heart
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Prompt: summer
Words: 348 words

echo in my heart
Bruce wasn't quite sure what to do with himself in summer. There was the heat and sun and Bruce was never sure what he was supposed to do, especially being in Miami during the summer. Of course it was Tony's idea and of course they – they meaning the Avengers – were all gathered around the pool, drinking and otherwise just trying to keep cool.

In Thor's case, that meant challenging Steve to a race in the pool. Bruce had nearly walked into the glass panels that made up the wall leading out onto the pool deck when he'd spotted Thor climbing out. The man seriously needed a warning label.

Tony distracted the attention from Bruce by wolf-whistling when Steve climbed out, “Lookin' good there, Cap!”

Steve being Steve, he smiled good-naturedly even though his cheeks were pink.

Then there was Thor who took up Bruce's entire field of vision, grinning like he'd won some great battle and dripping water everywhere. It was very distracting. It didn't help that Bruce had to look up.

“Bruce!” Thor said. He casually slung an arm over Bruce's shoulder, pulling him close and getting Bruce wet in the process. “I am heartened that you have decided to join us!”

“I... I wasn't going to stay inside all day,” Bruce replied, trying to look anywhere but at the dripping wet Norse god in swim trunks beside him.

“You should join me in the water; it's quite refreshing.”

“Oh, I, um,” Bruce clenched and unclenched his hands. Well, they'd find out eventually. “I can't swim.”

That, of course, didn't deter Thor.

“Then, come! I will teach you.”

That was how he ended up in the pool with Thor, clinging to Thor's shoulders while he tried not to panic. It was easy, actually, since he always – somehow – managed to feel safe with Thor. Bruce sighed and dropped his head to rest against the back of Thor's neck, letting his eyes drift closed.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You need not thank me,” Thor replied softly, gently swimming lengths of the pool with Bruce holding tight to him. “My only wish is for your comfort and happiness.”

Bruce smiled.

FIN.

never walk away

twilightscribe — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 05:50:39 GMT

Notes: For the 30 days of writing challenge on tumblr.
Title: never walk away
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Prompt: sunset
Words: 901 words

never walk away
The view from the balcony of Thor's chambers was extraordinary. Bruce could see to the edge of the city, where the water fell down into some abyss and Heimdall's observatory, still not completely rebuilt but still beautiful in all of its alien appearance. The entire city looked as though it had simply been poured into place, the construction was seamless.

If he'd been an architect, Bruce would've been in awe and yearned to study each and every building. But he wasn't, though that still didn't crush his curiosity and awe at everything he saw. Asgard truly was an alien world and Thor... Thor truly belonged here.

The light from the setting sun had set everything aglow and Bruce watched as it set, feeling his heart sink along with it. He didn't belong here as much as Thor didn't belong on Earth. This alien world so far from Bruce's own was where Thor belonged.

Bruce shivered, though it wasn't quite from the chill of the wind. He pulled the furs he'd been given around him just a little more tightly around his shoulders and continued to stare out at the city that sprawled out before him. If this was to be his only time viewing it, he wanted to commit all of it to memory.

He'd been alone for most of the evening, left to his own devices in Thor's chambers while Thor saw to the duties he'd neglected during his time on Earth. But he had left Bruce with a kiss and a promise that he would return with haste.

That had been at least several hours ago.

Bruce felt out of place. Even if he was dressed in the proper clothing, he was still human. He didn't belong here, as a number of nobles had been so kind to remind him of during dinner.

He stayed out on the balcony, watching the sun as it set and the golden glow slowly recede. The unfamiliar structures and strange architecture only served to remind him of how very much he did not belong. Bruce kept the furs held tightly around him, still not completely sure of himself in his Asgardian clothes.

“Enjoying the view?”

Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin, but his surprise quickly melted away when he turned and saw Thor coming up to join him. He smiled, “It's beautiful; I never thought I'd see anything like this.”

Thor returned his smile, the tired hunch of his shoulders melting away. “You should have seen it when the observatory was complete. At present, it is still being rebuilt – Heimdall is rather... particular about it. After all, it has a very precise purpose to serve.”

“I'd imagine it would be; it's the gateway between Asgard and the other realms, after all,” Bruce turned back to the view. He felt Thor's hand settle at his waist, that feeling of not belonging lingered but fled just a little in the presence of the Asgardian. Even if he didn't belong, it didn't change how he felt about Thor.

“You will see it in all of its glory one day,” Thor said. He sounded sheepish, or as close as a Norse god could, when he next spoke, “I hope that you will, by then, consider Asgard as much your home as Midgard.”

Bruce whipped around, staring up at Thor with wide eyes. “Thor, I–”

He swallowed, struggling to find his words again; Thor was always surprising him, knocking him off his guard and making him reconsider everything. Bruce looked up at him, eyes still wide and breathing coming a little too quickly. He was becoming rather light-headed and inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself.

“Thor... I don't belong here,” Bruce said quietly. “You... you should know that by now. I'm – I'm not one of your people.”

“You belong at my side,” Thor replied. He took hold of Bruce's shoulders, turning him and then gently cupping Bruce's chin so that he could meet his eyes. When they did, he smiled, “That is where you belong so long as you desire it; let no one else tell you otherwise. If there are those who have spoken of such, then tell me so that I might deal with them.”

“I can't let you fight my battles for me. Not when it's the truth.”

Thor frowned, “Do you love me?”

Bruce blinked, confused, “I – yes. What–”

“And you wish to stay with me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then it is enough,” Thor nodded. He leaned forward and kissed Bruce's forehead, “Be true to your feelings and do not let others cloud them. You love me and I love you – it is more than enough. That you wish to stay with me is more than enough; it is at my side that you belong.”

Bruce sighed, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he met Thor's eyes. He leaned into the embrace, “You make it all sound so easy...”

Thor wrapped his arms around Bruce, pulling him close and tucking him under his chin. “There is only so much that my words can do; I must simply prove to you time and again with my actions, for they speak louder, until such a time as you believe me fully and truly. And I shall continue to do so until you do, of that you have my word.”

Surrounded by Thor and with the smell of ozone strong in the air, Bruce let himself smile and believe that, for once, things would turn out fine.

“I'll hold you to that.”

FIN.

pretend i'm alright

twilightscribe — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 05:48:48 GMT

Notes: For the now defunct 's gamma theme. Title is taken from Echo by Jason Walker.
Title: pretend i'm alright
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Prompt: 10. time
Words: 322 words

pretend i'm alright
Steve knew that waiting was always the worst part. It wasn't something that anyone could ever get used to. The others were worried too and dealing with their own injuries. Bruce was half-conscious, wrapped up in Thor's cape, and leaning against the Asgardian's side. Natasha was letting Coulson disinfect a cut on her forehead that hadn't quite stopped bleeding. None of them were in good shape.

The one surprising thing was that Steve wasn't the one pacing back and forth, wearing a hole into the floor of the waiting one. Instead, he was sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs while Clint passed back and forth in front of him and bounced on the balls of his feet; nevermind the fact that one of Clint's wrists was in a splint.

None of them said anything, but they all looked up – and Clint paused in his pacing – whenever someone entered the room. All of them were anxious for news and the wait was killing them.

Steve counted the time by how many passes Clint made and by the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. The noises were all too loud but muffled – like he was listening to them from the end of a long tunnel. His heart was beating sluggishly in his chest and breathing felt difficult; he had to breathe around the lump in his throat.

He was startled by Natasha placing her hand gently over his and squeezing. She offered him a small smile, “He'll pull through.”

He couldn't find the words to reply, so he just nodded. But did feel some of the anxiety lessen with Natasha's quiet presence and support. Steve knew that Tony could pull through this – he was a survivor, it was what they did – but there was always that slim chance that he wouldn't.

But he couldn't think about that; he had to focus on Tony's survival. He'd pull through this; he had to.

FIN.

the light of reason gone

twilightscribe — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 05:47:13 GMT

Notes: For the 30 days of writing challenge on tumblr.
Title: the light of reason gone
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Prompt: mad
Words: 217 words

the light of reason gone
“You’re mad,” Bruce said, hunching over just a little.

Thor frowned, but gently cupping Bruce’s face between his hands and tilting his head up. His thumbs stroked across Bruce’s cheeks, the serious expression never leaving his face. Those blue eyes of his which Bruce loved so much were cloudy, like a storm barely being held in check.

Bruce couldn’t look away, his own hands came up, closing over Thor’s wrists. His thumbs stroked over the inside of Thor’s wrists, just above the edges of his bracers. Under Thor’s skin, he could feel his pulse and Bruce could hear his own hammering in his ears.

“Not at you,” Thor said softly. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, “Never at you.”

He leaned forward, bending over so that he could press a kiss to Bruce’s brow, then both of his temples. Bruce could feel his pulse quiet and a low hum settling into veins. He rolled up onto the tips of his toes, catching Thor’s lips in a brief, soft kiss.

Never taking his eyes off Thor, Bruce smiled up at him, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Thor’s eyes darkened for a second before they cleared, “Not particularly, though I would be more than appreciative of your company.”

“You have it,” Bruce said, kissing the corner of Thor’s mouth. “Always.”

FIN.

see your face again

twilightscribe — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 05:45:51 GMT

Notes: For the now defunct 13drabbles's gamma theme. Title is taken from Echo by Jason Walker.
Title: see your face again
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Prompt: 04. fear
Words: 252 words

see your face again
At first, there was the adrenalin pumping through him, with a cold feeling solidifying into a tight ball deep in his gut. All Steve had been able to hear was the sound of his blood rushing through his veins, his heart thundering in his chest, and the sound of his boots hitting the pavement.

Slowly, though, that began to change and the cold changed, turning into daggers of ice that stabbed into his chest as the dread settled in. He hadn't known what he might find.

It was pure chance that Natasha had managed to take out the primary control system of the drones when she did. Even with that, Steve had crushed two against the pavement with his shield before he reached Tony.

The armour was badly dented and almost completely crushed along the right side. That there wasn't any blood was of no relief to Steve; if there was any, the suit had probably contained it. The only thing that was of any comfort to him was the fact that the arc reactor was still glowing a brilliant blue-white.

He collapsed to his knees, pressing a hand to the front of the suit. Nothing.

Prying off the face mask was difficult, but not impossible. It wasn't as easy as Thor made it look, but he managed.

Tony was unconscious with a thin trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. Steve's breath hitched as he spoke into his comm unit, trying to regain even a small amount of equilibrium.

“We're going to need medical ASAP.”

FIN.

hold you in my arms

twilightscribe — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 05:39:29 GMT

Notes: For the 30 days of writing challenge on tumblr.
Title: hold you in my arms
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Prompt: tremble
Words: 226 words

hold you in my arms
Even though his own body was shaking from overstimulation, Bruce still pulled Thor close and held on tightly. It was rare that he got to simply hold the Asgardian in his arms; usually Thor was the one holding him. He ran his hands through Thor’s hair, which was sticking to his sweat drenched shoulders.

Times like these, he appreciated simply being able to hold Thor close and inside of him. It was just slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t care.

He could feel Thor pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses along his neck and jaw, which made him smile and hold on just a little bit tighter. Bruce didn’t want this moment to end, but he knew it would

Gently, so as to not crush Bruce beneath his weight, Thor rolled over onto his side, pulling Bruce with him. His cock slipped out and Bruce clenched tightly, feeling an ache resulting from the emptiness. Thor pulled Bruce tightly against his chest, smoothing his hands along Bruce’s back as he pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

Bruce sighed, kissing Thor’s collarbone and snuggling close, “One of these days, you are going to let me hold you when all is said and done.”

He felt more than heard Thor chuckle, ruffling his hair gently before he settled down to sleep.

“I’m certain that time will come soon,” Thor murmured. “I look forward to it.”

FIN.

far beyond the skies

twilightscribe — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 05:36:17 GMT

Notes: For the 30 days of writing challenge on tumblr.
Title: far beyond the skies
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Prompt: transformation
Words: 474 words

far beyond the skies
He didn’t recall much of his transformations into the Hulk and, afterwards, he was left with only vague recollections. It was like he was watching a TV with an incredibly poor reception; he got flashes of memories, impressions of what happened. The only thing he remembered of the transformations was the initial pain of everything stretching and growing.

Bruce had talked to Steve about it once, since Steve had gone through something similar. The only difference being that Steve had been completely aware of his body growing from what it had been to what it was now. He’d described it as being, well, indescribable. There wasn’t any way words could do the pain justice.

As for the transformations back, Bruce never remembered those. He simply knew that he usually passed out when it happened and, when he awoke, he was wrapped in a warm clock and held in strong arms.

No matter where he was, Thor always found him. He found him and brought him home without fail. Sometimes Bruce woke up when Thor found him, nestled safely in his arms and shielded from any prying eyes. That was good, since Bruce wasn’t always still clothed when Thor found him.

This was one of those times.

Bruce blinked, vision blurring at the edges when awoke. Once his vision cleared, he was greeted by the familiar deep red of Thor’s cape and the armour covering his chest. He reached a trembling hand up and pressed it against Thor’s chest.

“Where are we?” Bruce asked, voice scratchy. He cleared his throat and swallowed; his throat felt a little like he’d swallowed a glass full of sand.

“Not far from the tower,” Thor replied and pulled Bruce just a little closer to his chest.

His usually booming voice was soft, which Bruce appreciated as a dull throb was making itself known between his eyes. What he wouldn’t give for a glass of water and a soft, comfortable bed right about then. Thor would take care of that, though, he knew.

Thor carefully shifted his hold on Bruce, easily holding him with one arm while keeping Bruce shielded in his cape and against his chest. He pulled Thor’s cloak tighter around him, turning his face away and into Thor’s chest, while the god nudged his way through the conglomeration of SHIELD personnel and reporters to enter the tower.

Despite the armour, Bruce could smell ozone and that certain something unique to Thor. He smiled and curled closer, feeling exhaustion settling in. Once they were safely inside, he began to drift.

“Thor,” Bruce mumbled, half asleep. His words were more than just a little slurred. “How do you always know where I am?”

Thor didn’t immediately respond. When he did, his voice was pitched low and deep, full of emotion, “I’ll always find you, Bruce. It does not matter where you are; I will always come for you.”

Bruce smiled, “Thank you.”

FIN.

at the top of my lungs

twilightscribe — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 05:32:59 GMT

Notes: For the now defunct 13drabbles's gamma theme. Title is taken from Echo by Jason Walker.
Title: at the top of my lungs
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Prompt: 12. down
Words: 184 words

at the top of my lungs
The only sound over communications is Tony swearing. Then silence. The line dies with a sharp crackle of static.

After that, the only sound that Steve can hear is the sound of blood rushing through his head. He counts the heartbeats as the silence stretches out from seconds into minutes.

There is the sound of blood in his veins, his heart thudding wildly, and the sounds of his feet hitting the ground. Steve hadn't thought he could run this fast, had never thought to try. All he knows is that he needs to reach Tony. He has to find him.

He needs to know he's alive; needs to see him.

In his ear is the sharp blast of noise, Natasha saying something, Thor yelling, and Clint's voice cuts through it all with only a few words.

“Iron Man's gone down two blocks over.”

They are the only words Steve hears and they repeat themselves over and over again in his head.

There is nothing from Tony. His silence is notable. Steve feels the bile in the back of his throat and bites it back.

Tony will be fine. He has to be.

FIN.

Heat

twilightscribe — Sat, 04 May 2013 07:38:33 GMT

Notes: This was originally just supposed to be blow-job porn but then other stuff got in the mix and this happened. Oh well, it's still porn and it's still glorious ~~I hope~~. In any case, enjoy your Thunderscience porn.
Title: Heat
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Rating: nc17
Words: 1094 words
Contains: Blow-job and feels. A whole lot of feels. Because reasons.

Heat
Bruce's mouth is hot and what he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm. It takes all of the self-control Thor has not to thrust into that hot, wet heat, but then Bruce looks up at him with wide brown eyes hazed over with lust and it doesn't seem so difficult.

There's a furrow in Bruce's brow, he's concentrating hard on the task at hand. He runs his tongue up the underside of Thor's cock, worrying the slit with the tip of his tongue and taking the head of Thor's cock into his mouth. His tongue does wicked things that Thor had not before believed possible.

But the haze in Bruce's eyes, the way his mouth works around Thor's cock with determined enthusiasm – so eager to please – it's hard to believe that this is the first time Bruce has done it. His mouth is a slick, all encompassing heat and he's so eager that Thor lets out a soft noise of pleasure.

Bruce looks up at him, eyes wide and with an edge of worry to them. He pulls back, a questioning sound in the back of his throat, but Thor stops him with a gentle hand at the back of his head.

Shaking his head, Thor smiles, “You have not hurt me; do not fear that.”

There's still confusion in Bruce's eyes and he stills where he is, mouth still wrapped around Thor's cock. He doesn't move, poised as he is to make sure he hasn't hurt Thor and Thor is so flattered that the words flow easily like the water of a stream.

“You honour me,” Thor says, feels the sound of protest deep in Bruce's throat and it makes him hiss with pleasure. “Yes, you do. You honour me with this – with your trust and with your love.”

Thor runs a hand through Bruce's hair, offering him a small smile of encouragement. He watches the way that Bruce hesitates for a moment, eyes hooded, before his cheeks hollow again and the suction is wonderful. Thor sighs in pleasure, feeling Bruce's tongue swirl around the crown before he swallows Thor's cock to the base.

“Yes, Bruce,” Thor hisses, surprised. He hadn't thought Bruce could surprise him any further, for Thor knows that his length is considerable and that this is no simple feat. His fingers tighten in Bruce's hair before he wills them to relax, petting it gently.

Under his hand, Bruce trembles like a leaf in the wind.

It takes Thor a few more seconds to gather himself, to catch his breath enough to speak, and even when he does, he sounds breathless and in awe.

“Bruce... are you alright?”

Bruce hums and Thor has to clench his jaw to keep from moaning from the pleasure. He feels Bruce's throat work around him and swears, fist clenching at his side even as he strokes Bruce's hair.

Unclenching his hand, Thor reaches out and gently runs a finger along one of Bruce's hollowed cheeks, tracing an imagined line down. As he trails his finger down Bruce's throat, he can feel the hard, rigid line of his cock in Bruce's throat; he follows the outline of the budge, feeling his cock pulse in response.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

Bruce shivers and makes a noise muffled by Thor's cock. He pulls back, just enough to let Thor's cock slip from his throat and Thor growls at the loss of that warm, tight, wet heat. The response is quick and Bruce takes him back, swallowing around Thor's cock and humming.

There's a tightening coil in Thor's stomach and he knows that he's close. He hunches over, one hand cupped around the back of Bruce's head and fingers tangled in the dark curls; his other hand gently traces the outline of the bulge of his cock in Bruce's throat.

“Bruce.” He's practically whining from the pleasure, it's perfect and he feels Bruce hum – know he's moaning, how thrilled he is to be able to bring this pleasure to him. It's Bruce and Thor knows he would neglect himself so long as Thor is happy, so long as he finds release. But Thor simply has to let him know that he knows, that he appreciates this.

“Yes, Bruce, so perfect,” he murmurs; his usual eloquence has more or less left him. He smiles, fingers trailing up from Bruce's throat to trace his hollowed cheek. “So beautiful.”

Bruce is shaking now, trembling and he swallows around Thor's length again as his tongue works against the underside. He pulls back, swirling his tongue around the head of Thor's cock and teasing the slit before he swallows it down again and Thor comes completely undone.

Bright lights erupt behind his eyes and he lets out a choked noise that's Bruce's name. He can feel himself come in Bruce's throat, feels it work around his cock and swallowing everything he has to offer and he murmurs softly.

“Yes, Bruce, yes...”

As his cock softens, Bruce pulls away, pressing one last kiss to the head of it. He leans back, licking his lips and looking up at Thor with hazy pleasure-filled eyes. His cheeks were flushed a bright red as he let Thor pull him up into his lap, kissing him.

There was the vague taste of himself in Bruce's mouth and Thor smiled, tilting Bruce's head up so he could better kiss him. He pulled away once Bruce was breathless and dazed, taking in his flushed face. The wet spot pressed up against his thigh told him everything.

Running a thumb over Bruce's swollen, slick lower lip, Thor grinned and leaned in and nipped it lightly.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Bruce's lips. He smiles as Bruce catches his face between clumsy, sleepy hands and pulls him back down into a slow, lazy kiss as Thor lowers them down onto the bed and under the covers.

Bruce snuggles up to him, hands pressed up against Thor's chest as he lets Thor tuck him under his chin. Still, there's a sleepy smile on his face; he's obviously pleased with himself and Thor rumbles in pleasure at the sight. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep.

Thor lays awake for a little longer, simply basking in the presence of his lover. He knows that he would not want to be anywhere else; Bruce is beautiful, strong, and wise in ways that Thor is not. Yet, they are a perfectly matched couple. He drifts asleep with that thought in mind, holding Bruce tightly to him.

No matter how long it took, he would spend each day working to convince Bruce of his beauty – of his strength.

FIN.

boom boom boom

twilightscribe — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 04:21:53 GMT

Notes: Written for an anonymous prompter on tumblr.
Title: boom boom boom
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Words: 173 words
Prompt: Bruce being a tease ;) Thunderscience

boom boom boom
Bruce curled up against Thor’s side, tucking his head under the god’s chin. He spread his fingers out on Thor’s chest, gently trailing them along ridges of muscle.

He dropped a kiss to Thor’s neck, pushing himself up so that he could explore better. It was so rare that he got this chance – Thor was still asleep and the faint early morning light made him glow – and he wasn’t sure if he could take it when Thor was awake.

Slowly, carefully, Bruce trailed his fingers along Thor’s face, down his neck, mapping out his muscles. It was with a sleepy, aroused grumble that Thor woke up.

His voice was a little slurred with sleep, “Bruce?”

“Yes, Thor?” Bruce’s fingers paused for a moment before resuming his exploration. He dragged his fingers low on Thor’s torso, skimming his hip above the cover of the sheet.

“Stop teasing.”

In one fluid movement, Thor rolled them so that he had Bruce pinned to the bed below him. He leaned over him, grinning as the last bits of sleep faded.

“My turn.”

FIN.

all we are, we are

twilightscribe — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 07:55:25 GMT

Notes: Written for a lady-atlantis on tumblr.
Title: all we are, we are
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Words: 237 words
Prompt: ThunderScience! Bruce starts losing weight because he's made self conscious about eating in front of others. This starts seriously affecting his health quickly.

all we are, we are
That Bruce avoided eating with the others was, largely, just a fluke it seemed. None of them ate together or, at least, they ate together so rarely that it didn't really register as a problem. Bruce kept to himself too, so any ill effects would take time to register.

But, after a while, it became almost impossible not to miss the signs. The dark circles under his eyes, the tired, jerky way he moved – all of them pointed to something wrong.

Thor was surprisingly observant. He realized that there was something wrong fairly quickly. On nights where he couldn't sleep, when his thoughts took a dark turn and sleep eluded him, Thor would sit at one of the windows and watch the skyline.

There was a rustling behind him, followed by a thud. Thor turned around, catching sight of a surprised Bruce.

“Oh,” Bruce said. He held his hands in front of him as though they were somehow a shield. “I didn't think anyone else would be up.”

Thor smiled at him and inclined his head, “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

Then, as though it just occurred to him, “Join me?”

Bruce stuttered, taking a nervous step back, “I... I don't know.”

“That isn't an order, simply a request,” Thor said. “You are free to decline it, should you so wish to.”

A few long seconds passed in silence before Bruce looked up and, hesitantly, stepped over to Thor, “... yeah, I'll join you.”

FIN.

Seeking Attention

twilightscribe — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 08:21:44 GMT

Notes: Written for my friend, suruberry, who was looking for a Clint/Coulson fic and provided the prompt behind this fic. Somehow, this lingerie set got involved, along with these stockings.
Title: Seeking Attention
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Words: 3932 words
Prompt: I want a cute possessive behavior fic of Clint and Phil. Just Clint being a child and pretty much clinging to Phil and being all pouty when Phil's attention is devoted to the rest of the Avengers.

Seeking Attention
One.

Two days after their last mission hadn’t exactly gone to plan, all of the pens disappeared. Every single one of them was gone, there was no sign of them.

Steve was still in medical, recovering from some rather nasty burns he’d gotten from the explosion. But he was sitting up, aware, and reassuring the others when they stopped by to visit him. The only other occupant of his room was Bruce, who was still out of it from the tranquilizers he’d been given.

Coulson sat up with them, skimming through the mountain of paperwork he had sitting next to him and reading through the files that medical handed him. He occupied his time with typing up the mission report alternating with reading something on a tablet that Natasha had brought him.

“Is someone going to tell me why all of the pens have grown legs and walked off?” Tony asked, the morning that Steve came back to the tower.

A couple of steps behind him, Coulson strolled in, attention riveted to whatever it was on his phone. He didn’t glance up as he replied, “Have you checked the nests?”

“I checked them two days ago when they first started to go missing,” Natasha replied. She looked up from the magazine she was reading, “Wherever he’s hiding them, they’re not there.”

Thor was hovering in the doorway beside Bruce, a careful hand at his back. Bruce, for his part, just looked exhausted and yawned, “Who’s hiding what?”

“Clint stole all of the pens in the tower,” Natasha replied. She looked at Coulson, “You should probably talk to him; I think he’s feeling a little... neglected.”

Her eyebrow quirked and there was the smallest of smiles on her lips; Tony took a step back. It was never a good thing when Natasha smiled or, at least, it never promised good things for him. He gave her a wide berth.

“I haven’t seen him,” Coulson replied, handing a file to Natasha. “He didn’t stop by medical after the debriefing.”

Natasha took the file, flipping it open. Her brows creased as she read, eyes flicking quickly back and forth, “If you haven’t seen him, then he’s in the vents. He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

– –
There was no sign of Clint in their room when Phil walked in and flicked on the light. He, though, was exhausted and wanted a shower more than anything before tumbling into bed and just sleeping. It would have been perfect if Clint was there.

He left his clothes strewn across the bathroom floor and stepped into the shower stall as he cranked up the hot water. Stepping under the stream of hot water, Phil sighed in contentment and closed his eyes. He could feel the tension and stress from the past several days wash away with the water. For several minutes, he simply stood under the spray and enjoyed the feel of the heat and just relaxing.

Although, it didn’t erase that niggling feeling of worry and concern that had wedged itself deep inside his skull.

Unless something about this mission had really upset him, had triggered a very visceral reaction in him, Clint wouldn’t have taken to the vents. Clint was very good at disappearing when he felt like it was needed; there were just times when he needed the space, needed the time alone. When he was ready, he’d come find Phil.

Eventually, he finished up in the shower. It was with a certain amount of reluctance that he turned off the shower – and really, there was something to be said to living in the tower, because the shower in their old apartment had a terrible habit of randomly spurting out cold water.

Phil stepped out of the shower and reached for the towels on the rack to dry off. He wrapped one around his waist and dried his hair with another. He noted, somewhat surprised, that his clothes had disappeared from the bathroom floor.

Cautiously, he emerged from the bathroom, unsure what to expect.

Looking at the bed, he realized immediately where all the pens had disappeared to. Each and every single one of them had been stabbed into a cork bulletin board – that Phil was unsure of the origins – in a perfect likeness of his face that was set on the bed next to his neatly folded pajamas.

Honestly? Phil was torn between being extremely flattered and exasperated beyond all reason.

“This is why you stole every single pen in the building?” Yes, he was impressed, but it was still a ridiculous reason to go through all that trouble and cause all that inconvenience.

As expected, he got no response. Phil simply sighed and began to get ready for bed. He tossed the towel into the laundry bin and got into his pajamas, moving the bulletin board from where it was leaning on the bed to the chest of drawers. Before he crawled into bed and collapsed, he took a surreptitious picture of it with his phone. Just because he didn’t approve didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

He turned down the covers and continued to speak to the childish agent he knew was hiding in one of the overhead vents, “I expect that everything will be back where it belongs by tomorrow evening.”

There was no answer, which he’d expected, and he climbed into bed after flicking off the lights. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep; he really was exhausted.

When he woke up the next morning, there was a bright purple post-it note nailed to the wall with a pen and a sad face drawn on it. Phil rolled his eyes and got dressed for the day.

He’d have to talk to Clint about not touching his Captain America boxers.

Two.

The arrow struck true, sticking to the back of his laptop. Phil glanced up and noticed the post-it note wrapped around its shaft. He plucked the arrow off, the suction cup coming off easily enough. Glancing at the message, he rolled his eyes.

‘Are you busy?’

Phil set the note to the side and discarded the arrow to the other side of him on the couch and turned back to checking his emails and filing a handful of backlogged reports. There was also the fact that he was trying to deal with yet another media circus courtesy of one Tony Stark; he could feel an oncoming headache forming behind his eyes and a dull thud in his temple. It was looking like it was going to be a long day.

Another arrow was shot and stuck to the back of his laptop. Phil pulled it off and checked the note.

‘I’ll take that as a yes. Do you want coffee? I can make some. Or get some. Which do you want?’

Phil glanced at his half-full cup of still hot coffee and turned back to his work, discarding the arrow and note to one side. He just wanted to focus on getting his work done so he could enjoy what little downtime he did have.

The next arrow he easily caught before it could stick to his laptop.

‘Are you mad at me? Am I annoying you?’

Phil sighed and shuffled through the reports he had stacked on the coffee table, “Agent Barton, if you keep bothering me like this, I’m never going to finish this.”

Another arrow. Another note. Another damn sad face.

Finally, Phil looked up and gave the spot where Clint was hiding a hard glare, “Coffee would be nice. The usual.”

Clint was practically bouncing on his feet as he shot up from his hiding place behind the couch across from Phil. He dropped a quick kiss to Phil’s cheek before skipping out of the living room.

With another put upon sigh, Phil picked up his mug and took a long drink. He looked at the pile of reports on the coffee table and then looked back at the ever growing number of his emails in his inbox. Another twenty-five had come in since the last time he checked; this was the last time he ran press control for Tony Stark, it just wasn’t worth it.

He finished the last of his coffee in one long swallow. Rubbing his eyes, he turned back to his email, sorting through the spam and replying to the critical ones in short, concise sentences. He’d have to call for a press conference later to sort everything out.

Clint returned twenty minutes later, hot coffee in one hand from the little coffee place on the corner and a bag from the deli down the street. His stomach growled in appreciation and Clint was practically beaming.

The bag and coffee were placed on the table and Clint leaned over the back of the couch, resting on his elbows, “Are you going to be much longer?”

“It’s Stark,” Phil replied, not looking up from his screen. “I’ll be surprised if I finish this today. He knows how to start up a media circus.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell between them except for the soft tapping of Phil’s typing. Eventually, Clint drifted away back to where he’d left the little toy bow and suction cup arrows.

Another two arrows hit the back of Phil’s laptop in short succession. Phil shot Clint a sharp look; he was never going to finish if Clint kept interrupting him.

‘I can shoot him in the foot next time. Non-fatal, I promise.’

‘Are you ignoring me?’

Phil said nothing, simply kept on working. If he was lucky, he’d have this finished by midnight and, hopefully, the emails would have stopped by then. He appreciated Pepper and what she did all the more now; he’d never enjoyed dealing with the media before and this just cemented his opinion on the matter. Next time, he’d think twice before offering to help lighten her workload.

There was another arrow. Phil studiously ignored it, but it was followed by three more.

‘You are ignoring me.’

‘This sucks and I hope you know it.’

‘I’m going back to an empty bed tonight, I know it.’

‘):’

Again with the damn sad face. Phil rubbed his temples and continued working. He just wanted this entire mess over and done with.

Three.

The day was shaping up to be another long one. Nothing seemed to be going right. First he had to make the rounds at medical – again – to make sure Bruce was alright after a long fight. After that, he had to check on Natasha, who was propped in bed with her arm in a sling and a bandage on her forehead.

Luckily, she was completely alert and looking completely bored.

“They said they want to keep me for overnight observation,” Natasha replied. “I told them it was unnecessary; I don’t have a concussion.”

She easily read Phil’s disbelieving expression and continued with a roll of the eyes, “I’m well aware of the symptoms of a concussion. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had one and I certainly don’t have one now; I’ll be just as fine at the tower as I am here. JARVIS can monitor me just as well as any doctor.”

“JARVIS isn’t a trained medical professional,” Phil replied. “I know you want to go home, Natasha, but I think that you should listen to the doctor. If you want, I can stay here with you for tonight if you’re concerned.”

Natasha raised a brow, “I really think you should go home to Clint, he’s missed you.”

“Agent Barton has been behaving like a child as of late.”

She smiled, eyes glimmering with mirth, “I think he’s jealous that he’s no longer the centre of your attention; he’s got competition now. You know how he is, you’ve known him the longest.”

That was true, but it didn’t excuse Clint’s childish behaviour, “I’m aware.”

“Go home, Phil,” she said at last. Her smile faded into one of those half-smiles that promised mischief, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Go see what Clint’s done now.”

“I’m almost afraid to find out.”

– –
As it turned out, he had every right to be concerned. When he returned to the tower, he found that each and every wall of their room had been plastered with photos. Phil sighed and ignored them, leaving his case in the bedroom and heading to the bathroom. He needed a shower.

All of the photos were of Clint and had obviously been taken in a hurry. The majority of them were incredibly blurry and out of focus. It would take a lot of time to take them all done and he didn’t really care to.

Instead, he ignored the photos and went into the bathroom to shower. He emerged twenty minutes later, clean, and with a towel wrapped around his waist. All of the photos were still up, but a message had been added in post-it notes over top of them. Phil sighed.

‘Miss me yet?’

“There are more mature ways to tell me you miss me,” Phil said, pulling on his pajamas and crawling into bed. “Now, are you coming to bed or not?”

Four.

Phil woke up the next morning to find that an extremely clingy sloth had taken up residence in his bed and was wrapped tightly around him. A quick look told him that the sloth in question was actually Clint who was holding onto him tightly, like he was an overgrown human-shaped teddy bear.

One of Clint’s legs had wiggled between Phil’s and he had an arm slung around Phil’s waist, holding on snugly. Any movement on Phil’s part resulted in Clint’s hold tightening; he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

A glance at the clock told him that it was a quarter past seven and if he didn’t leave soon, he’d be late for his meeting with Director Fury. He also wanted to stop by medical to make sure that Natasha had actually spent the night. It wouldn’t surprise him if she’d already checked herself out.

However, every time he tried to shift towards the edge of the bed Clint would make a small noise and pull him back.

“Clint,” Phil said. “I need you to let me go; I have places I need to be.”

He didn’t get a coherent response, just a grumble against his shoulder and the hold in his waist tightening. The leg between his curled around one; Phil wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“I have a meeting with Director Fury at 0900.”

A grumble was his only response. Clint held onto him tighter.

With a sigh, Phil wiggled his way out of Clint’s grasp. It was as though Clint had grown suckers on his hands, because it was a challenge to get out of his arms. Once he was, Phil looked back with a small smile, “I’ll be back after, hopefully with Natasha. Try not to get into trouble.”

Clint was blinking blearily at him; he looked exhausted. “Fine...”

“Oh, and Clint?”

“What?” Clint flopped over and threw an arm over his eyes, a yawn cracking his jaw.

“Go back to bed; you need the sleep.”

Five.

The day turned out to take longer than he’d thought and by the time Phil returned home, everyone else had retired for the night. JARVIS welcomed him home and kept the lights low, though he paused as Phil arrived at his floor and stepped out of the elevator.

“I hope you enjoy the surprise that Agent Barton has prepared for you, sir,” JARVIS said. “He’s been rather excited about it the entire day.”

Phil blinked, “A surprise.”

“Yes, sir. I hope that you enjoy it.”

The first thing that caught Phil’s attention was the pair of black lace panties lying on the floor. A short distance away, slung over the back of the couch was the matching bra. Looking around, Phil realized that there other pieces of lingerie thrown around the common area of the floor in a trail leading towards the bedroom.

For several minutes, Phil wondered just what had happened to cause the explosion of a lingerie store in the tower.

The answer came when he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind and a body press up against his back. Clint’s arms were bare and he radiated heat, making Phil want to relax back against him. He was just so very tired; he would’ve been happy to just fall asleep right there and let Clint carry him to bed.

Before he could, Clint pulled away, his hand trailing along Phil’s waist as he came to stand in front of him. Everything about his posture was seductive, including the cant of his hips.

Phil blinked once, twice, and then stared.

Clint was wearing a bright violet lingerie set, red accents on the suspenders drawing attention down to his stocking-clad legs. He looked great and Phil would have appreciated it a lot more if he was more awake. Not even the quick shot of arousal he felt shooting through his veins was enough to wake him up.

“I thought I’d show you how much I appreciate all the hard work you’ve been doing lately, Agent Coulson.” Clint grinned, one hand on his hip as the other slid up Phil’s chest and grabbed his tie, tugging on it lightly. He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth, then, using the hold he had on Phil’s tie, he gently pulled him down the hall towards the bedroom.

With a full view of the back, Phil realized that there was something written down the back seam of Clint’s stockings. He couldn’t read all of it, but he could just make out ‘eat me’ and ‘tease me’ in the dim light. He felt heat rise to his cheeks.

Clint kicked the bedroom door shut once they were safely inside and turned to Phil, a dark glint in his eyes. He smoothed both hands up Phil’s chest as he slowly backed him against the door.

The mood was ruined when a giant yawn cracked Phil’s jaw.

Stifling another yawn, Phil managed an apologetic look, “Sorry, maybe another time?”

Clint’s shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth were tugged down, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Sorry. Do you need help?”

There was a calculated precision to the way that Clint stripped Phil down to his boxers, but he was completely gentle as he helped the exhausted agent into bed and tucked him in. Phil was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Plus one.

The last thing that Clint remembered was the explosion and the sky tilting at an angle over him as he fell. Clint woke up in medical hooked up to what seemed like a dozen machines and IVs – he felt a bit like a pin cushion with all the needles stuck in him – and with more skin covered with bandages than uncovered.

Everything hurt and the only one at his side was Bruce who looked wide-eyed and more than just a little bit panicked.

“What happened?” Clint asked. His voice was raspy and cracked; then his throat felt like it was on fire.

“It’s Hydra,” Bruce replied, sounding incredibly relieved. “Steve and Thor were... shot at during their run this morning. Natasha’s investigating with Phil, while the others went to help with the rescue efforts.”

Clint thought back, remembering that he’d been out picking up lunch for Phil when everything had gone to hell. The tilt of the ground as he’d rolled and the windows shattered, shouting for everyone to get down and under the tables. The explosion had knocked him back and that was all he’d remembered.

“Hydra, huh...?” Clint wanted to push himself up so he could sit up, but his limbs screamed in protest at every little movement and he felt sluggish and exhausted. He grimaced, “Just how many drugs are they pumping into me?”

“Just something for the pain and a couple of things to ward off infection,” Bruce said, moving to sit on the edge of Clint’s bed. “They pulled a lot of shrapnel out of you; there... was the concern that you might not make it.”

A sudden realization and, if he’d been able, Clint would’ve shot up in his seat, “Everyone else?”

“Everyone else is fine, thankfully. You’re the only one who was hurt, though Thor got grazed but he insisted on going out to help.”

Bruce looked concerned, “I would’ve gone with them, but the... other guy isn’t much help in rescue scenarios. I said I’d sit up with you, make sure you were alright.”

Nodding, Clint relaxed back against his pillows, “That’s... good. ‘Tash and Phil’ll find ‘em...”

“You should probably get some more sleep, I’ll let the doctors know you’re awake and call the others to tell them. Do you need anything?”

“Water?” Clint asked. He was just so thirsty and his throat was so dry; it felt like he’d swallowed a handful of sawdust.

“Yeah, hold on.” A few seconds later and Bruce carefully held the glass to his lips and Clint swallowed gratefully, the cool water soothing his dry throat. He downed half the glass before relaxing back against the pillows, feeling comfortable enough that he felt like drifting back off.

“Clint?”

“M’tired...” Clint murmured. He blinked and struggled to open them again.

He could almost hear the smile in Bruce’s voice as he drifted off again, “Then get some rest, Clint. You’re going to need it.”

– –
Clint wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he woke up again, but Bruce wasn’t at his bedside when he woke up and the lights had been dimmed. He raised his head from the pillow and tried to look around, but was arrested by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“If you move, you’ll make your injuries worse.”

The familiar voice made Clint smile and he automatically relaxed, leaning back against the pillows and letting his eyes drift closed.

“Phil, what are you doing here?” He felt like hell and just wanted to curl up with Phil and pretend that everything was normal again. He was tired, but he just wanted to reassure himself that Phil was there and forced his eyes open.

He looked over at Phil, who looked tired and there was a small rip at the shoulder of his suit. Besides that, though, he was untouched and, with that, there was an immense sense of relief. He just needed to be able to see that Phil was alright to completely believe it, it was a long held habit.

“You’re alright.” He breathed out a small sigh of relief and smiled. “That’s good.”

“And you’re not.”

“I’ll recover. This isn’t the worst that I’ve been through.”

Clint was aware of the thin line of Phil’s mouth and the tense set of his jaw that always came with such flippant comments about his health and injuries.

“I believe that we’ve had this conversation before,” Phil said. There was the sound of shifting fabric and the side of the bed dipped as Phil sat down. “You should think better of yourself.”

“I‘ve always said you were the better one; I’m just the weapon. Aim and fire.”

“You’re more than that to me.” Phil’s voice was soft, more dangerous than any weapon. “And the other Avengers feel the same way. You know, Bruce wouldn’t leave your side until I got here.”

Clint huffed out a laugh, “I can see that. You find ‘em?”

“We got them.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Clint relaxed and let his eyes closed. “Good. Know how long I’m going to be stuck here?”

“Until you’re better.”

Gently, a hand smoothed back his hair and fingers trailed down along Clint’s cheek. Clint opened an eye to look up at Phil, “You gonna stay with me?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Phil smiled.

Clint nodded and relaxed; he was still so tired with all the drugs pumping through his system. He’d feel better in the morning, hopefully good enough to convince the medical staff to take him off some of the drugs. He hated feeling this drowsy and vulnerable.

The two of them settled into a comfortable silence and Clint started to drift off again. He was stopped when Phil spoke up.

“You still have that lingerie set?”

Clint grinned, “Yeah, I do. I’ll pull it out just for you when I get out.”

“I look forward to it.”

FIN.

come closer (come closer)

twilightscribe — Sun, 07 Apr 2013 08:13:57 GMT

Notes: Written for an anonymous requester on tumblr.
Title: come closer (come closer)
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Steve/Tony ; Superfamily
Words: 81 words
Prompt: In Superfamily fanfiction, Steve is usually left out and made out to be more of 'the strict parent', and that kind of upsets me. Could I prompt a fluffy short in which Tony and Peter arrange some kind of surprise for Steve being the best husband/dad ever?

come closer (come closer)
Baseball was Peter's contribution. Tony was the one who actually decided that 'going big or going home' was how things were done. He had to be talked out of actually renting a stadium – that was too over the top and Steve wouldn't appreciate it too much.

Something simple and from the heart; that would be more than enough from Steve.

Simple. With a lot of thought behind it, but something Steve loved.

Baseball in the park it was. And Steve? Steve loved it.

FIN.

hello, hello

twilightscribe — Sat, 30 Mar 2013 00:23:18 GMT

Notes: For the now defunct 's gamma theme. Title is taken from Echo by Jason Walker.
Title: hello, hello
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Prompt: 05. quirky
Words: 224 words

hello, hello
There were a couple of things that Steve needed to adjust to. For one, the fact that Tony came to bed at strange hours of the night meant that he always woke Steve up (“I'm a light sleeper.”). Although, Steve didn't mind that. He'd just roll over and curl up around Tony, which meant that Tony wouldn't be getting up anytime during the night without waking Steve.

He slept better knowing that Tony was there and he could hold him, know he was there and feel the rise and fall of his chest. The glow of the arc reactor and steady, if faint, beat of Tony's heart enough to lull him into sleep and keep the nightmares at bay.

Sometimes that wasn't enough, but Steve wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it. There were things Tony didn't either.

Those were things that woke Tony in the middle of the night, a scream on his lips and in cold sweats. He'd sit straight up, panting and staring unseeing at the wall. Steve just placed a hand at the small of Tony's back, then pulled him close when the shaking started.

Neither of them were perfect. There were problems and wounds that needed to be stitched up, but they would survive. They'd made it this far. And, besides, neither of them were the kind to just give up.

FIN.

with stainless strength

twilightscribe — Wed, 06 Mar 2013 23:15:25 GMT

Notes: For the 30 days of writing challenge on tumblr.
Title: with stainless strength
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Prompt: look
Words: 125 words

with stainless strength
The way that Thor looked at Bruce often made him blush. There was just something in the way his eyes softened and a small smile that tugged at Thor's lips that made Bruce feel a little weak in the knees.

And he had no idea what to do.

Someone like Thor was just... unique. There wasn't a guide or anything to go by; Thor wouldn't be his first relationship, but Thor was the first to actively pursue him. Bruce had no idea how to react to that.

And, well, sometimes Thor messed up. Those were times where Bruce would smile too, and laugh, and tell Thor that it was fine. Then Thor would smile back and apologize while promising to do better next time.

That's when Bruce kisses him.

FIN.

Cool Professionalism

twilightscribe — Sat, 02 Mar 2013 10:30:19 GMT

Notes: Written for an anonymous prompter on tumblr.
Title: Cool Professionalism
Fandom: Skyfall
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Words: 240 words
Prompt: Hey, I have a prompt that I see all the time in the stony tag, but I wanna see it with 00Q. I want some good old fashioned smut- Bond convinces Q to wear a remote controlled vibrator to work.

Cool Professionalism
There is no arguing with James Bond. And there are certainly times where Q humours him – just to prove a point. That's what this is. He is proving a point. He just isn't too sure what that exact point is.

On the outside, he is the perfect image of cool professionalism; he isn't about to let something so simple as a vibrator (and as unpredictable as that is, seeing as the one with the controls is James Bond) get in the way of that. He has earned this position and he is damn well not going to let anyone – double-oh agent or not – prove him anything less than what he is.

His legs might be trembling and there might be a fine sheen of sweat along his neck, but he lets none of that show. He can feel ice blue eyes digging into his back, waiting for some crack to show in his veneer, but he never allows it.

This self-control he's prided himself on will not crack so easily. Often, it's the only thing which holds him together on days where the hours seem to pass too long, where the crackle of static on the other end of a communication line is deafening.

No, this is simple; this is something he can deal with and control. The only variable here is his body and, over that, he has some measure of control.

He is not about to lose this game now.

FIN.

an involuntary addiction

twilightscribe — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 09:38:01 GMT

Notes: For the 30 days of writing challenge on tumblr.
Title: an involuntary addiction
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Thor/Bruce
Prompt: thanks
Words: 457 words

an involuntary addiction
Bruce was quite sure that when he was the Hulk, he still had his pants. Waking up without them, though, wasn't all that unusual for Bruce. He pulled himself up, head spinning, and looked around to see if anyone was there and snapping pictures with their phone or something.

Though, as it turned out, he needn't have worried as heavy, rich fabric had settled over his shoulders.

Thor was standing behind him, large hands settling his cape over Bruce's shoulders. He smiled when he noticed that Bruce was looking at him, “I had thought you might appreciate help.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said. His legs were a bit wobbly as he stood, and he was more than grateful when Thor helped him stand up. But he could have, Bruce thought, done without actually picking him up even if Bruce's legs were about to give out under him.

That was how they arrived back at the tower. Bruce was wrapped up in Thor's cape and in Thor's arms, while Thor had an almost unreadable look on his face – though he was smiling. Going by post-mission ritual, the others were probably gathered in the living room and flopped over the available couches and chairs. Bruce would join them once he was properly dressed.

Thor's voice was soft in his ear, “Can you stand?”

That startled Bruce out of his thoughts and he nodded, “Yeah, I can manage from here.”

He was set on his feet with surprising care and Bruce looked up at Thor, still clutching the other's cape tightly around his shoulders. Bruce knew he should give it back, but he wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of being naked around the tall Norse god.

As though he could read his mind, Thor's hands settled on Bruce's shoulder and he smiled, “You need not return it to me now. Go and dress, you may return it to me when you join us later.”

Bruce nodded, but he didn't pull away. He found himself rather captivated by Thor's eyes; he'd never seen them so close before and they were a very lovely shade of blue too.

Thor was smiling at him, a warm smile that made Bruce's heart swell in ways he hadn't thought it could.

And then, much to Bruce's surprise, Thor leaned in and pressed an almost feather-light kiss to the corner of Bruce's mouth. He pulled back with an even brighter smile, “If you like, I would be more than happy to continue at a later time.”

With that, Thor left Bruce in the hallway with a smile as he made his way back towards the living room. Bruce watched him go, slowly raising a hand to touch his lips. A tiny smile pulled at his lips, maybe... maybe he could take Thor up on that offer. Later.

FIN.

never meant you any harm

twilightscribe — Sat, 26 Jan 2013 06:32:33 GMT

Notes: Written for an anonymous prompter on tumblr.
Title: never meant you any harm
Fandom: Skyfall
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Words: 842 words
Prompt: prompt: 00Q. Q and James are a couple. They have a fight and James hurt Q emotionally or physically. After all, bond want to apologize. Thank you

never meant you any harm
Q woke up in the morning with aching, swollen eyes and a message on his phone from James. He stared at his phone for several moments, then got out of bed and went for a shower.

He ignored the burning, dull ache in his chest as he stepped under the water. It was too hot and it left his skin bright red when he stepped out. Without a word, Q got dressed and ready for work.

He left his phone on the bed. The pain was still too new.

– – –

When he arrived for work, he was almost surprised by James's absence. Instead, he came in to find that James had taken some assignment overseas and had already left; an intern from Q division had seen to his equipment.

Despite the pain, Q felt the familiar burn of jealousy and worry deep in his stomach. He couldn't quite shake it no matter what he did. The entire day, he remained distracted.

Q was aware that James knew about the tracking devices that Q had on him. He was surprised but disappointed to find that James had slipped past his reach yet again. James was perfectly of disappearing, even from Q's many all-seeing eyes.

It made the pain behind his eyes grow worse. Somehow, he felt that this was entirely his fault. It wasn't, but that didn't make the illogical feeling of blame go away.

They were both to blame.

– – –

Q got home late that night. He worked until it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. He wasn't looking forward to returning to an empty flat.

Leaving his coat and bag in the front hall, Q left a trail of clothes leading to the bathroom. He really wanted a hot shower, regardless of the fact that he'd had one only that morning. It wasn't so much a shower as it was Q curling up on the floor of the shower, clutching his knees tightly to his chest and staring as the water went down the drain.

He wasn't sure why he felt so alone or why it all hurt more than it should have. There was always the chance that James could die on a mission. But they hadn't fought like this before.

Maybe Q had pushed too far. He wasn't sure. But whatever had happened while James had been in Venice had cracked something in James and Q only wanted to make sure he wasn't going to break all over again. James might have had the last word – and oh so cruel had the words he'd used been – but it took two to argue; Q knew it was just as much his fault.

The thought that maybe, just maybe, James might not come back this time – might not want to, a little voice in the back of his head said – made the burning in his eyes worse. Maybe Q cried, but he would never admit it.

– – –

After he crawled into bed with a cup of steaming tea, Q listened to the message that James had left him.

“What I said was wrong, I lost my temper. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

When Q tried to redial the number, he found James's phone plugged in and hidden behind the clock on the night stand. He'd known it was pointless but he tried anyway. James's answering machine greeted him and Q listened to it, hanging up without leaving a message.

There wasn't anything he wanted a machine to tell James.

– – –

The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. There was still nothing from James Bond.

Q played the message James left every night. Then he made a phone call that no one answered.

– – –

Nearly six months after he disappeared, just when MI6 was starting to get concerned, James Bond turned up on Q's doorstep. He was bloody and bruised, but he was alive.

“You look bloody awful,” Q said as he stepped aside to let James in. “Just how many times did you get shot?”

James didn't answer his question, instead, he reached out and cupped the side of Q's face. His fingers were bloody and one of them was obviously broken, but his touch was gentle. Breath ghosting across Q's lips before he kissed them lightly, he murmured, “I'm sorry.”

Q punched him in the shoulder. Not hard, but it made James wince – though no one but Q would have noticed it. He glared at the agent, “You, James Bond, are a bloody fucking prat, you know that?”

For several seconds, they just stared at each other, but then Q sighed and wrapped his arms around James's neck in a gentle hug.

“You stupid git, it's not all your fault.” That was what Q meant to say, but instead he said, “I missed you.”

He pulled back and pressed a kiss to the corner of James's mouth, not minding the blood, “Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Honestly, I don't understand your aversion to doctors. I'm hardly qualified for this sort of work.”

I forgive you.

James smiled, one of those barely there quirks at the corner of his mouth, and squeezed Q's hand in one of his, “Thank you.”

Something Small

twilightscribe — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 06:47:03 GMT

Notes: Written for an anonymous prompter on tumblr.
Title: Something Small
Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Pairing: Kotetsu/Barnaby
Words: 255 words
Prompt: tnb prompt: Kotetsu being jealous over Barnaby’s photoshoots with other women.

Something Small
He was absolutely, completely not jealous. And he most certainly not upset.

Kotetsu had certainly not been staring at his computer screen with a frown on his face for the past five minutes straight.

This had nothing to do with Barnaby. Nothing at all.

It had nothing to do with Barnaby being called off to do a shoot with a bunch of models for some clothing line or another (but it did honestly have nothing to do with that Kotetsu was envious of the attention or having to take pictures with strange women he didn’t know). Nothing at all.

He was not jealously. Completely not jealous.

Not. At. All.

Kotetsu start tapping his fingers impatiently on the desktop as he finally, finally, started doing some actual work. But he spent it distracted. He kept glancing at the clock in the corner of the screen or the one that was hanging on the wall; willing time to go faster.

It was stupid. But he certainly wasn’t jealous.

He had been staring at the same line in an email, reading it for the fifth time, when a cup was placed in front of him. His favourite coffee blend from that little coffee shop down the street. Kotetsu stared at it blankly for a second before he looked up.

Barnaby, for his part, just gave him a little half smile and, shit, he knew. “I see you’ve been working hard.”

Kotetsu scowled even as his cheeks warmed up, turning back to work. But there was, after a while, a small smile of his own tugging at his lips.

FIN.

sleep the hours (i can't weep)

twilightscribe — Fri, 11 Jan 2013 05:46:48 GMT

Notes: Written for runemarks on tumblr.
Title: sleep the hours (i can't weep)
Fandom: Skyfall
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Words: 618 words
Prompt: q’s very reluctant to have bond’s attention so he deliberately wears baggy clothing to make him seem less appealing. bond sees though it.

sleep the hours (i can't weep)
There was some comfort to be had in a too-large cardigan. Q was very good at making himself invisible without the need for an actual invisibility coat, but that was harder to achieve with Bond because Bond always saw him. He narrowed in on him like he'd strapped a giant sign to his back that said JAMES BOND LOOK HERE.

That was why he started with the bigger clothing. Maybe it was mildly non-professional of him, but no one would say anything for fear of what Q might do to them – far beyond a sharp look and the ominous pause of his fingers over his keyboard.

So he buried himself in his work and too big clothes. His work ethic remained the same as did his output; the only thing that changed were his clothes. He wasn't going to let this thing – whatever it was – with Bond interfere with his work. Q was there to get the job done and keep the agents alive and supplied, that was all.

He was not there to do anything more. He was not prepared to give anything else away.

Bond, clearly, was going to challenge that and what scared Q was the fact that Bond could very possibly win. He couldn't let that happen – wouldn't.

For a while, it seemed like it was working. Bond's eyes skated over him and he seemed more withdrawn than usual; he was less casual with his touches than he'd been before. He kept his distance from Q, but there was something in his eyes that left Q on edge.

Bond disappeared to somewhere in Europe on a mission. Q was only mildly unnerved by the fact that Bond had managed to slip past every bit of security Q had placed on keeping track of his location. Bond was in the wind and Q wasn't happy about it, though he kept quiet. M didn't seem too put off by it.

M shrugged, “It's not the first time. You get used to his... unique way of doing things.”

Q shut his mouth and rolled up his sleeves that were sliding past his hands and went back to work after that. He kept up a constant monitoring of all of Bond's known assets (and several that weren't officially on the books) and his last known location in the vain hope that he would turn up somewhere.

Two days after Bond had slipped off the radar and was, for all intents and purposes, missing, Q opened the door to his flat and found something waiting for him on his kitchen table.

There was a note pinned to the innocuous paper bag and Q recognized the writing as being Bond's. He'd seen it any number of times on mission briefings and damage reports. There was a lump in his throat as he picked it up.

'Thought you might enjoy a new type of tea. –007. PS. I know what you're doing.'

He was almost tempted to simply throw it out, but curiosity killed the cat and all that. Instead, he opened it up and inspected the blend inside. It seemed Bond's good taste extended from just a good suit and nice cars – though Q wasn't quite sure where he fit into all of that.

Three days after he found the tea on his kitchen table, he ended up crowded against that same table by one double-oh agent. Bond's lips brushed against his as he spoke.

“I didn't think that you had it in you to be self-conscious, Q.”

Q frowned, trying and failing to ignore the shivers racing down his spine, “There's a first for everything.”

“Indeed.” That was when Bond kissed him for the first time and it set a fire in Q's veins that he couldn't resist.

He kissed back.

FIN.

counting the ceilings

twilightscribe — Sun, 06 Jan 2013 02:01:25 GMT

Notes: Written for chibura on tumblr.
Title: counting the ceilings
Fandom: Skyfall
Pairing: James Bond + Q
Words: 371 words
Prompt: q is turned into a 12 year old child after an experiment at the q branch lab. bond has to take care of him.

counting the ceilings
It goes without saying that James Bond does not like children. And despite the fact that Q is brilliant, sharp, and almost exactly as he always is, that does not change the fact that he is now a child; one that Bond has to take care of.

He's completely lost.

Q is sitting at the breakfast bar in Bond's flat, unremarkable in every aspect except for the fact that it's practically empty. He is swinging his legs back and forth and watching Bond as he makes tea and lunch; his eyes are wide and taking everything in at once. Sometimes, Q pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but he never takes his eyes off of Bond.

“You're an assassin,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. If his voice wasn't so high, so obviously a boy's, it would have sounded natural. As it is, it's just unnerving.

Bond sets a cup of tea and a sandwich in front of Q, keeping his expression as neutral as possible, “I am.”

Q doesn't immediately begin eating. Instead, he looks Bond over from the top of his head to his shoes and pushes his glasses up his nose again before they can slide off. When he meets Bond's eyes, there is no fear, no anger, no hatred in his eyes; all there is is trust and something else that Bond cannot name. Q smiles, big and wide and bright and it fills Bond with a warmth that he has not felt in a very long time. There is very little that compares to the smile that Q gives him.

What Q says next, though, tops that entirely and nearly floors James.

“That's alright; I trust you. I know you'll keep me safe.”

His hand fists on the counter and it takes a surprising amount of concentration not to stumble or show how much that one statement has affected him. Instead, he turns away and makes another sandwich for himself, just for something to do with his hands.

He wonders if Q will remember this when Q Branch inevitably finds a way to reverse this transformation. He's surprised when he realizes that he hopes he does and is torn at realizing that it would be for the best if he didn't.

FIN.

drift away like snow

twilightscribe — Wed, 02 Jan 2013 06:26:36 GMT

Notes: For the 25 Day Christmas/Holiday OTP challenge on tumblr.
Title: drift away like snow
Fandom: Skyfall
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Prompt: wearing ugly christmas jumpers
Words: 186 words

drift away like snow
The innocent jumper is lying on the chair in the bedroom. It's a monstrosity and James is certainly not about to wear it. Instead, he tosses it a disbelieving look before walking into the kitchen.

Q is standing at the stove, waiting for the kettle to boil for him to make his tea. He looks up when James comes in and frowns. He's already wearing an exact replica of the hideous jumper which is still sitting on the chair in their bedroom.

“You're not wearing yours,” Q says, frowning.

“Of course not, it's hideous.” James manages to catch Q about the waist and kisses his temple. It's more difficult than usual as Q tries to twist away from him. “I'm not about to start a new tradition now; especially not one so ridiculous.”

“Well, you can explain that to my mother, then. She will continue to send you them every year; think of it as being her tradition.”

James smiled and sat down at the table, “I foresee some unfortunate charity receiving an annual donation of an ugly Christmas sweater.”

“I'm certain that someone out there will appreciate them more than you.”

FIN.

it rolls in from the sea

twilightscribe — Wed, 02 Jan 2013 06:13:40 GMT

Notes: For the 25 Day Christmas/Holiday OTP challenge on tumblr.
Title: it rolls in from the sea
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Pairing: Jack Frost/Bunnymund
Prompt: making snowmen
Words: 212 words

it rolls in from the sea
Jack hovered upside down in the air, grinning. The air was cold enough that Bunny could see his breath as he breathed. Far too cold to be doing anything, in his opinion, but Jack had somehow managed to convince him that this would be a good idea.

They'd already rolled up the balls for the body and the head. Bunny sighed and glared at Jack; his paws had long since gone a little numb from the cold.

“You owe me one,” he said.

Jack grinned, flipping so that he was right side up, “C'mon, you enjoyed yourself; you just won't admit it.”

“Loads of fun, I can't feel my paws anymore,” Bunny complained. Jack helped him lift the middle ball and then Jack put the head on it.

They hadn't brought anything for the face, but Jack jabbed two sticks into the sides for arms and carved a face onto the head. Then, he stepped back to admire his work. Bunny crossed his arms and tried not to shiver, but it was cold.

It certainly wasn't perfect, but it wasn't bad either. Each of the balls were a good size and it looked sturdy; for his first time making one, Bunny was rather impressed.

Jack liked it, though, and that was, ultimately, what mattered most. Cold paws or not.

FIN.

my heart was colder when you'd gone

twilightscribe — Tue, 01 Jan 2013 22:19:02 GMT

Notes: For an anon and an ask box meme on tumblr. You can submit them anonymously if you're interested.
Title: my heart was colder when you'd gone
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Pairing: Jack Frost/Bunnymund
Words: 304 words
Prompt: Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character watching over another [as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify].

my heart was colder when you'd gone
The blizzard hadn't exactly gone the way he'd hoped it would. He'd thought that, alright, maybe a little bit of frost would be good and a light dusting of snow – it would make the eggs all the more pretty and finding them all the more rewarding. Just... he'd overdone it.

Maybe it had been the excitement getting to him; the hope that swelled up so strongly inside of him. He just wanted someone to notice him, say something, anything, to him. That wasn't so much to ask for... was it?

Well, he didn't get that. After the screw up that was the blizzard, he didn't have the courage to face the Easter Bunny. He'd ended up finding an alley to hide in and trying to ignore the way his heart fell and the cold that sank in. He had never minded it before, but this cold that was taking hold of his insides was painful and wanted none of it.

After that, Jack took care to make sure that there was a never repeat of that year. He worked hard at it too. He kept as much of the snow and the cold at bay as he could, running to where there was no one to mind it when it became too much.

It hurt. It hurt so much but it was better than if he didn't. He'd run and run until he couldn't anymore, just to distract himself. There were always other things to do.

Sometimes he'd leave delicate patterns of frost on the windows, on the street, sketching out beautiful pictures in it. He knew they'd be gone by morning, but he still drew them.

He painted messages and words and hopes in the frost. Maybe it was silly, but it showed that he was there. That he existed.

And maybe, just maybe, Bunny would realize that too.

FIN.

cold as the blood

twilightscribe — Tue, 01 Jan 2013 04:09:51 GMT

Notes: For an anon and an ask box meme on tumblr. You can submit them anonymously if you're interested.
Title: cold as the blood
Fandom: Skyfall
Pairing: James Bond/Q
Words: 137 words
Prompt: Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character dressing another, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify].

cold as the blood
"Your tie is crooked," Q said with barely a glance up from his screen and the lines of code on it.

The corner of Bond's mouth quirked upwards, "Well, why don't you do something about it?"

Q looked at him, like he was a particularly simple bit of code. But he let out a sigh and pushed away from his desk, "Come here."

Fixing the tie was simple enough. Q smoothed it out and then the lapels of Bond's jacket, he glanced up, not missing the amusement there. He rolled his eyes, but found that he couldn't turn away due to the hands on his waist.

"I have work to do, double-oh-seven, and you have a briefing in ten minutes." He dropped his voice and added, "Later."

Bond smiled, then, and leaned in to kiss Q quickly, "I look forward to it."

FIN.