Inell's Fanfiction Archive

It’s only Wednesday, but it feels like this week is dragging on forever. Clint knows it’s because of the camping trip last weekend, since he apparently can’t make it through a weekend of sleeping outside without catching a cold. He blames months of being coddled and only going on assignment when some moron or another threatens to take over the world. His endurance is going to shit, and he’s getting lazy. Well, not lazy, necessarily, since he’s still training and spending time practicing, but it still feels like he’s become a man of leisure.

Why else would he get the sniffles just because Thor had insisted they go skinny dipping and then sleep ‘under the wide sky, Brother Clint’. Thor has mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes, second only to Steve, and it’s impossible to tell him no because it’s like punching a muppet when his face crumbles up. Besides, Clint has to reward him whenever he actually uses his name instead of Eye of the Hawk or some other random name. He’s pretty sure that Thor does it now just to mess with everyone, but it never hurts to practice the rewarding good behavior thing.

Steve looks at him when he sneezes. “I feel fine,” he says before he can be asked, again, if he’s sure he’s okay to be outside and shouldn’t he be taking it easy. “It’s just a sneeze. The warm air is good for me, Steve.”

“I still think you shouldn’t be out in crowds because your immune system is weakened due to the cold.” Steve gives him a worried yet adorable look, and Clint isn’t sure he’s ever even seen that before. Trust Steve to create something even more difficult to resist than his usual expression.

“I’m not sick.” Clint still refuses to admit anywhere other than inside his own head that he’s been dealing with a cold. Sickness is something other people deal with, after all, and he generally ignores anything that isn’t likely to kill him until it goes away. “Anyway, I needed a break. It’s still another week or so until Jane gets back, so it’s safer to steal you away for a while than it is to deal with a missing-Jane Thor.”

“You didn’t steal me if I came willingly,” Steve says. “But I can understand needing some space. I don’t think Thor’s let you get more than six feet away from him all week.”

“Nah. It’s not that bad. I get to go to the bathroom alone.” Clint laughs before sneezing again. “You know how he gets. All mopey and muppet-faced. I cheer him up with my sparkling wit and charming disposition.”

“You’re his favorite.” Steve actually pouts, which makes Clint smile. “Between him and Natasha, it’s impossible to get you alone at all.”

“I don’t think Thor has a favorite, actually.” Clint isn’t sure the big guy could even fathom choosing one over another. It’d probably make him think about his childhood or Loki or other complicated things that none of them can really ever understand. Hell, Clint still has trouble realizing that Thor is actually a God and many hundreds of years old, especially when he starts going on about the merits of cotton candy for breakfast.

Steve snorts. “You’re probably right.” He moves closer when the crowd on the platform pushes their way into the train. “Damn it, Clint. There are a lot of people on this train, and they’ve all got germs. If you make yourself sicker, I’m not making you chicken noodle soup again.”

“But Steve, it’s delicious soup,” Clint whines, leaning in closer so their conversation won’t be overheard. He closes his eyes briefly and inhales, enjoying Steve’s scent. It’s masculine and fresh with an underlying citrus that he can’t quite place.

“Are you sniffing me?” Steve clears his throat, and Clint’s eyes quickly open. There’s a faint flush on his neck and cheeks, but he doesn’t look upset.

“Citrus.” Clint licks his lips and straightens up. “Thought I smelled it and was trying to place it. Smells good.”

“Orange and something spice. Pepper gave it to me as a welcome to the tower gift. Some kind of aromatherapy stuff?” Steve smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t want to be rude so I tried it. Shampoo, I mean. It’s shampoo that Pepper gave me. I liked it and had her get me another bottle. I could, uh, have her get one for you next time, if you want?”

“Oh, right. Sure. That’d be great.” Clint couldn’t really explain that the reason he thought it smelled good was because of the extra scents that came from Steve himself without sounding like one of those weird creepers who treat him like a sex object. Finding a friend hot was one thing, but there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, like weird creeper sniffing lines that Clint’s a little too close to at the moment. Fortunately, he hears their stop announced, so he stands up and grabs Steve’s arm. “This one is us.”

By the time they make it through the crowds and reach topside, Clint’s convinced that walking might have been easier. It takes longer, but the subway station is packed this time of evening. People running errands after work or maybe even going to work, tourists out getting in the way, and college kids starting their bar crawls early because it’s a weeknight. The one good thing about all the people is that no one pays him and Steve any attention. The bad thing is that it’s a lot of risky areas for him to monitor, just in case.

“If it’s this crazy when we finish doing whatever this surprise is, I’m going to splurge on a cab,” Steve says, making a face as they walk away from the subway exit. “Speaking of, you never have told me what this surprise is.”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Clint’s relieved that Steve seems to have forgotten the awkward sniffing episode or he’s being the nice guy he is by letting it go. Whatever the reason, he’s just glad his lapse isn’t going to make things strange. “You just have to trust me.”

“I do trust you, asshole.” Steve punches his arm with enough force to get his attention. “More than anyone else. And I don’t really care what the surprise is because I’m just glad to get away from everyone for a little peace and quiet.”

Clint can’t help but grin at that because he knows it’s true or Steve wouldn’t have bothered to say it. “Your terms of endearment leave a lot to be desired, snookums,” he says. “Though I do think we need to mention them in the next S.H.I.E.L.D. PR thing we’re forced to do. I want to hear reports of people fainting in surprise that Captain America knows how to cuss.” He punches him in the shoulder. “The way they go on sometimes, you’d think you were a former priest instead of a solider. Bet you five bucks that there’s fanfic about that, in fact. According to Tony, there’s fanfic about everything. Hell, I didn’t even know what it was until recently, but it must be popular. And I’m glad I’m able to help you escape the insanity of the tower occasionally.”

“Tony probably reads it.” Steve shakes his head. “I don’t understand it, but it isn’t hurting anyone, so who am I to complain? Just don’t ask Tony about it because I’d probably end up with porn text messages or something equally annoying.”

“He wouldn’t do that shit if he didn’t think it bothered you. You like pushing his buttons, Steve. It’s like how I think Thor likes messing with us, and how Nat casually mentions ways she could kill us all without breaking a nail. Like a sign of affection.” Clint looks at their surroundings and frowns when he sees a bank where a small music store had been last time he’d been in this area. “I really wish Phil was here to see us all together. I mean, we’re family, you know?”

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “I wish he was here, too, because I’d have liked the opportunity to get to know him. He was important to you.”

“Like a brother. Better than the one I was born with, that’s for sure.” Clint runs his fingers through his hair and focuses on the sidewalk ahead of them. “We’re almost there. It’s just up this way.”

“If I knew where we were going, I’d be able to help you find it.” Steve looks around curiously, and Clint laughs.

“You’re going to find out the surprise soon enough, Captain Impatience.” He got the idea after talking to Thor over the weekend, and he’s hoping that it’s a good surprise. It should be fun, especially since he’s never done anything like it before. He resists Steve’s puppy dog slash pout combination for the entire block it takes to arrive at their destination. When they reach it, he opens the door that leads to the stairs that’ll take them to the second floor.

“A dance studio?” Steve arches a brow and looks from the door to Clint and back again a few times. “We’re dancing?”

“Yep. A swing dance class.” Clint shrugs. “I saw it advertised on a bulletin board at the coffee shop we went to last week and decided to surprise you with it.” When Steve doesn’t make a move towards entering the building, Clint bites his bottom lip and loses some of his confidence. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“No! I mean, I want to. It’s just…a surprise.” Steve puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shuffles from one foot to the other. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it. Do we, uh, get assigned partners or what?”

“I dunno. I’ve never been, and you’ll be better at dancing than I will since I’ve never even tried this style. We can partner up, if you want. You’re bigger than me, so I guess I can let you lead. Or we can see if anyone needs a partner, if you’d rather dance with a woman.” Clint hasn’t really thought that far ahead, in all honesty. He’d just remembered the way Steve had mentioned not being able to swing when he was younger and stuff and wanting to give him a chance to do it now.

“I want you.” Steve steps inside and started up the stairs before Clint can answer him. He follows behind and takes the opportunity to admire Steve’s ass. It might not have a Twitter account like his, but it definitely deserves one of those photo Tumblr things with nothing but pictures devoted to it because it’s an amazing ass.

The dance studio is a decent size, and the class has an eclectic mix. Clint’s glad to see that they aren’t the only ones there, and it’s also good to know they’re not the only same sex partners, either. The others are probably romantically involved, but there are other combinations that seem to just be friends, too. Their instructors introduce themselves as Nathan and Sylvia Royston, both of whom appear to recognize both him and Steve, but they don’t treat them any different. That makes them awesome in Clint’s book.

An hour later, he isn’t so sure how awesome they are anymore. “I think I’m going to crawl down the stairs when this class is over,” he whispers to Steve after they finish doing steps for something called Bal-swing that had so much fast footwork that his feet feel sore already.

“You’re a natural, so stop complaining. With a few lessons, you’ll probably even be better than Bucky was,” Steve says. “No pouting either. You know you’ve got good moves, Clint. Meanwhile, I was alive when these were popular and still have to count and keep getting distracted.”

“Now who’s whining?” Clint can’t help but point out as they move to the music and pick up speed as Harry James gets the orchestra going so fast it’s ridiculous. He’s having fun, even if he knows he’s going to be sore later, and Steve’s graceful despite his mutterings. Steve just grins at him as they do the rock steps, kick steps, and all the other terms that have muddled together in his head until he can’t keep them apart. It’s a something Shag, which made Nathan crack a joke about England and orgies, and there are so many steps that Clint’s surprised that he and Steve haven’t tripped each other yet.

“We’re kicking ass.” Steve smiles when he nods towards the girls dancing beside them who have messed up. Captain America he may be, but Clint’s seeing a small competitive streak appearing tonight.

“And taking names.” Clint focuses on doing it right and they end up laughing together when the dance is over. He’s sucking in some much needed breaths while Steve is flushed but having no trouble breathing even after the workout they’ve had over the last hour and a half.

It’s their last dance of the night, and they move into position for their favorite of the dances they’ve learned during the class. They don’t even have to ask each other, which is pretty awesome. Their favorite was the same, and they’re soon doing the Lindy Hop while In the Mood plays. When the class is over, he and Steve talk briefly to Nathan and Sylvia, who convince them to agree to come back for a West Coast Swing class that’s taught on Friday evenings.

By the time they get back outside, it’s after eight, and Clint’s sweaty, tired, but happy. He’s still sneezing, and he thinks he might have overdone it just a little, but he doesn’t care because Steve’s grinning and relaxed and hasn’t stopped talking about the music and dancing since they left the studio. Clint gets them a cab because there’s no way he can deal with the subway after that lesson, and he smiles at Steve as he opens the door to the car. “So, good surprise?”

“Great surprise.” Steve squeezes his shoulder. “I can’t wait to do it again. But right now, you’re starting to look dead on your feet, so we’d better get you home and fed so you can rest. Well, as much Thor and Nat will let you.”

“We have to stop at a Duane Reade before we go home so I can buy some Twinkies. Hulk loves those things, and I owe him a box for sparring with Thor tonight. I needed a distraction so I could steal you away, you know?”

“We’ll get him two boxes. You just have to take the blame when Bruce finds out.”

Clint follows Steve into the cab and gets comfortable. “Sure, I can do that. It’s a fair exchange,” he says, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he begins to hum In the Mood. When he sees Steve smiling at him, he returns the smile. “And maybe after we eat, you can teach me about some of the music you like.”