Inell's Fanfiction Archive

Someone’s been baking. The kitchen smells like chocolate, and it doesn’t take long to find the plate piled high with brownies that’s been put between the microwave and blender. Steve crosses the room to see if there’s a name on them or if they’re free for the taking. They’ve all learned to label anything they don’t want shared, so food without labels means anyone can have it.

“Jarvis, who made brownies?” he asks, curious about who’s been using his kitchen. Well, not his, but he’s sort of taken ownership since it was practically collecting dust with all the delivery food and eating out that happened around here.

“I am not at liberty to say, Captain. Doing so would put me at risk of being infected with a virus.”

“Natasha baked brownies.” Steve doesn’t need confirmation from JARVIS because she’s the only one who would have threatened unleashing a virus. Bruce and Clint both use the kitchen sometimes, and Tony would have made sure to brag to everyone if he’d bothered cooking. He isn’t sure why she decided to bake, and he wonders if he should try to find her to make sure everything’s okay. He’s their team leader, after all, and he wants everyone to know they can come to him if they have problems.

They’ve been back from Myrtle Beach for a couple of days, so he doesn’t think Natasha’s got any remaining issues from that battle. With a shake of his head, he grabs a plate from the cabinet. Even if something’s wrong, he isn’t the one she’d talk to about it. It’s just brownies, and he’s probably worrying over nothing. She’s Clint’s best friend, though, so he’s a little more aware of her issues than others maybe. Well, now that he knows it’s just friends and not the romantic situation he’s believed it to be previously. Not that he’s ever treated her differently, even when he was jealous.

Steve makes a face before putting two brownies on the plate and grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator. Maybe it’s good for him that he can now admit to the jealousy, but that doesn’t really clear up anything else. He’s not stupid, so he knows about crushes and infatuations. He knows about attraction, the mental kind as well as the physical. In the old days, he’d had crushes and been attracted to a few different women, so it’s not really new to him, in some ways.

In other ways, it’s like a confusing mess of feelings and desires that makes all those previous infatuations pale in comparison. Steve’s worked through the realization that he was feeling those things for another man, mostly, but he still feels like he’s Dorothy with his past being plain old black and white Kansas and his now being the full Technicolor magnificence of vivid color and intense emotions. He never much liked that movie, either, so the fact that he’s comparing himself to Dorothy for it to make sense to him is somewhat frustrating.

This whole thing snuck up on him, and it was easier to compartmentalize and ignore when he honestly thought Clint and Natasha were in a relationship. Steve can do the quiet yearning and pining thing. It’s how he spent most of his life before, since he never had the courage to act on his feelings or, well, he crashed before anything could happen with Peggy. Ever since he found out that Clint’s single and, according to Natasha, not interested in one night stands, he’s having trouble keeping his feelings locked away and disregarding them. It’s scary, though. He knows that he’d rather face a dozen Loki attacks or infiltrate a HYRDA base with no back-up than admit to Clint that he’s falling for him. Because he can call it a crush all he wants, but Steve knows it’s more than that even if he isn’t sure exactly what it is.

It’s funny to him that he’s still a coward, regardless of what physical form he possesses. It might be easier if Bucky were here to give him advice. Steve knows Bucky wouldn’t care that it was a man making him feel all twisted up and weird like this, just so long as the person appreciated Steve and didn’t hurt him. Bucky’d know what he should do because he’d been a flirt but he’d also had a few relationships over the years. And that’s what Steve wants, if he’s completely honest with himself. He wants Clint like Tony’s got Pepper and Thor’s got Jane and he just wants so many things he can’t even identify them all.

Since Myrtle Beach, Steve can’t stop thinking about it. He’s always been able to keep his head clear and focus on not feeling mixed up about Clint, even if it’s been getting more difficult since knowing he isn’t technically off limits. Clint being single doesn’t really change the fact that Steve’s sure he wouldn’t feel the same and wouldn’t be interested in figuring out whether they could be something more or not, but it’s made those boundaries start to crumble, and that’s made it more difficult to resist the ‘what if’ thoughts that he entertains during the middle of the night when the bed feels so empty and cold.

It all just makes his head hurt. That’s probably why he tries not to think about it. He ends up standing in the kitchen lost in thought when he could be doing something more productive. Steve focuses on not thinking as he leaves the kitchen and heads up to the roof. He knows that’s where Clint is because he checked the other usual places before going to the kitchen. He hadn’t known there were brownies, but they’ll be better than the handful of packaged cookies he’d intended to grab. When he reaches the roof, he finds Clint sitting and staring out across the city. There’s a paperback book on the table beside him, but he isn’t reading it.

“Was there this much smog back in the day?” Clint doesn’t even turn his head to see who it is, but he somehow knows that it’s Steve anyway.

“Not this much. It was hazy back then, but we never really noticed or didn’t know what to call it.” Steve shrugs before walking over to sit down. He put the plate and water bottles on the table. “I thought you might want a snack. I didn’t see you around lunch time.”

“I was up here. Should have come down, but I needed some time to think.” Clint looks over and smiles when he sees the brownies. Some of the tension in his shoulders eases. “Nat must have forgiven me. Those are one of my favorites.”

“You two are fighting?” That might explain the sudden baking. Steve’s actually relieved that he was right about the behavior being abnormal enough for Natasha to indicate something being wrong, but he’s also glad that she must have worked it out so he doesn’t have to risk upsetting her by trying to comfort her.

“Kind of.” Clint glances at him then back at the brownie. “You know I was meeting her for training after we got back from our walk? Well, it turned into an argument. She called me out on some shit that I didn’t want to deal with, and I made it worse by telling her to mind her own business. Things just escalated from there. She knows me too well, so the words always hit target, and I never miss, either.”

“Is something wrong?” He’s worried that he’s been so wrapped up in his infatuation, keeping it secret while also selfishly enjoying every minute they spend together, that he’s failed to realize Clint’s going through something that might need a friend.

“No. It’s seriously nothing.” Clint leans back in the chair and stares at the sky. Steve’s fingers twitch because he wishes he had his sketchbook and a pencil right now. The profile is breathtaking, with the fading light from the sunset as backdrop and a faint flush on Clint’s neck that’s probably from being out in the sun for so long.

“It isn’t ‘nothing’ if you’re fighting with Natasha about it.” Steve breaks off a piece of the brownie and chews on it. It’s a really good brownie. “You don’t have to tell me about it, though. I thought we were--anyway, I know about keeping things private.”

Clint looks at him. “Nat’s been like my sister for years. Sometimes, family fights about stupid shit. She just brought up something that she’d noticed and wouldn’t drop it when I made it clear I didn’t want to talk about it. If it was anything that I thought was important, you know you’d be the only one besides her that I’d talk to about it. You’re my best friend, Steve.”

Steve nods and twists the cap off the water bottle. The fact that Clint says he’s his best friend and second to Natasha in his life is a special thing. He knows what that means, and it matters a lot more than his own ‘what if’ scenarios involving a romantic relationship between them. Clint’s trust is not easily given, so Steve has to be careful to never break it. “Well, if you do ever want to talk, you know I’m here.”

“Ditto.” Clint smiles before grabbing one of the brownies and eating it. “These are so good. You can’t ever let her know that you know she made them unless she tells you. She’s weird about stuff. Like the rest of us.”

Steve watches him eat the brownie and lick his fingers after, which is a bad idea because his body can’t help but react. He looks away, drinking half the lukewarm water in a couple of gulps. He’s got that restless feeling again, like his skin doesn’t fit properly, and he knows he needs to go work off the energy. Standing up, he runs his fingers through his hair. “I, uh, I need to go the gym. Haven’t been today.”

“Oh, hey. I’ll go with you. My sparring session ended before I could ever work up a sweat, so maybe we can spar? Just don’t go easy on me. I always know when you, Thor and Nat are holding back. I might just be a human, but I can take what you give me.”

Clint’s words do nothing to help Steve’s physical reaction. There’s a voice in his head that sounds like Bucky telling him just what he should give to Clint. He might be a virgin, but he isn’t unaware about sex and the methods of it, so his imagination can take over where his experience stops. The mechanics of two men having sex is a little more uncertain, but he can figure out enough to fuel the dreams he’s had about Clint. And thinking about sex is definitely not what he should be doing right now.

“I won’t take it easy on you,” he says, hoping a good round of sparring will release enough of his pent up frustration to calm him down. “I might be bigger, but I know you could kill me with a paperclip if needed.”

“I’m going to stop off in my room to change, but I’ll meet you in the gym in ten minutes.” Clint reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. “Thanks for the brownie and the talk, Steve. Now get ready to get your ass kicked.”

“You can try, Clint. It might very well be your ass that gets kicked, though.” Steve goes down to his own room to change into a pair of loose gym shorts and a white tank. If the sparring doesn’t help him concentrate, he’s going to try the punching bag after. If that fails, too, he’ll have to resort to a shower.

He reaches the gym first, and he’s glad to see that no one else is using it. He and Clint actually don’t spar very often, so he’s looking forward to having to focus and keep up because Clint’s quick and graceful when he fights without weapons. Steve starts his stretching to get ready for the workout. He’s bent over when he hears Clint enter the room. When he straightens, he turns around and sees that Clint’s changed into a pair of sweatpants and a faded old t-shirt that’s snug around his biceps.

“I see you started without me. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up fast.” Clint starts stretching, and Steve keeps getting distracted from his own pre-fight routine by just how flexible Clint is and how easy he makes the stretches look. They don’t talk as they get ready, but it doesn’t take long before they’re standing opposite each other, ready to go.

“On three?” Steve arches a brow and waits for Clint’s nod. He starts to count. When he hits three, they both move. He twists to the side to avoid a punch, and they’re off. Clint’s a capable opponent. Even if he isn’t some chemically enhanced superhero or an alien God, he’s got a lot of power and control. It’s impossible to overlook the height difference when they’re sparring, even if it’s something Steve doesn’t pay much attention to outside of the gym. He’s got quite a few inches on Clint, which he finds more of a disadvantage than not when they’re fighting.

When Steve manages to land a hit that sends Clint to the mat, he wipes his sweaty face on the bottom of his shirt after making sure he’s okay. Clint gets to his feet and grins. “Best two out of three? Loser has to make dinner.”

“Sure.” Steve watches Clint pull the t-shirt over his head and use it to wipe his face and chest. Mouth suddenly dry, he goes over to grab a bottle of water from the fridge in the corner.

How is he supposed to focus with all that bare skin on display? Clint’s sweatpants are riding so low on his hips that he’s surprised they haven’t fallen off yet. Steve’s never paid much attention to hipbones before, but he thinks he could fill a sketchbook with tributes to Clint’s. There are scars on his back and others on his chest that Steve wants to touch and hear about. The muscles, freckles and trail of hair on his lower belly are more unnecessary distractions. He’s beautiful and totally unaware of the effect he’s having on Steve.

“Give me one of those?” Clint walks up behind Steve and makes a grabby hands motion towards the fridge. He’s too close, the scent of sweat and Clint mixing together in an aroma that has Steve biting back a whimper. He gets a bottle of water for him before moving away, needing some space and time to think before they go another round.

“You’re so fast on your feet that it’s challenging me to keep up with you. I like facing off against someone who makes me improve myself.” Steve glances at him and sees Clint smiling at him.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, Cap. I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan to be cooking dinner tonight.” Clint finishes off his water and tosses the empty bottle in the trash. “You rested up enough for round two, kid?”

“Kid my ass.” Steve downs the rest of his water before moving back to the mat. It becomes obvious very quickly that Clint’s planning to win this round. He’s using the walls and even some of the gym equipment to do spins and jumps that have Steve practically just standing there watching. He’s never seen Clint this acrobatic during sparring, and he’d admire it a lot more if he weren’t the opponent.

“C’mon, Steve. Don’t just stand there and give me this win.” Clint laughs as he uses the climbing rope to pretty much fly over Steve’s head, somehow managing to land on his feet and still sweep his leg behind Steve’s.

When Steve feels the mat behind him, he just lies there and blinks up at the ceiling. Finally, he sits up and rolls his eyes. “Fine. We’re tied now. I didn’t just give you that win, either. What the hell was all that?”

“Me trying to win?” Clint flutters his eyelashes and fails at looking innocent. “Circus training. I don’t use it when sparring usually, but I wanted to….” He trails off and runs his hand over his face. “I thought you might be impressed.”

“I am. It was almost like you were flying a few times.” Steve wipes his face again before pulling off his tank and throwing it on the floor. It’s damp with sweat, which makes the material clingy and annoying when he’s trying to concentrate. When he looks up, Clint’s staring at the wall and drumming his fingers against his thigh. “You haven’t won yet, so you’d better be thinking about what to cook for dinner tonight, old man.”

“Old man?” Clint snorts and shakes his head. “You just hope you have moves like this when you’re my age. And you’re the one who needs to worry about dinner. On three?”

Steve nods and moves into position. When the count of three is called, they move. It’s even more physical and intense than the previous rounds because they’re both competitive and want to win. It’s exhilarating to be fighting like this, twisting and punching and using the walls to really get into it. They each successfully land a few hits, fists and hands sliding against bare skin, and Steve knows he isn’t breathing hard due solely to exertion.

By the time he finally manages to get Clint on the mat, Steve crawls over him and straddles him, pinning him down even as he bucks up to try to get free. “Give up,” he says, panting as he shifts his body to pin him more fully. He looks at Clint’s face, leaning closer as he uses his weight to keep him secure. “Say it, Clint.”

“Not yet.” Clint bucks up again and tries to free his wrists from Steve’s grip, but it’s no use. Steve isn’t moving, even if Clint’s too stubborn to admit defeat yet. “I’m not giving up yet, Steve.”

Clint keeps writhing beneath him, and Steve starts to notice that his body is reacting. Oh God. He’s getting hard. Clint’s thigh is pressed against him, so he has to be feeling it as he moves around. A rush of heat spreads over Steve’s face as he unconsciously seeks more friction. Clint’s panting and muttering curses and his eyes are shining and his lips are wet and--Steve lets him go and quickly scrambles to his feet. He’s mortified when he realizes what’s happened. Did Clint notice? He’s freaking out and doesn’t know what to do or what to say because he doesn’t know if Clint knows or not. “Sorry. I need to--you win. I have to go.”

“Huh?” Clint gets to his feet and gives him a confused look. “I didn’t win. I was just being stubborn about admitting it. Steve, what’s wrong? You’re acting weird.”

Steve laughs, feeling a little hysterical as he tugs on his hair and looks anywhere but Clint. How did he not feel him pressed hard against his thigh? He isn’t acting like he did, but maybe he’s trying to save Steve the embarrassment of talking about unexpected erections. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s all fine. I’m okay. I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Before Clint can say anything, Steve grabs his discarded shirt and practically races out of the room. He needs a shower. A cold shower. He isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry when he reaches the elevator that’ll take him upstairs to his room. He might be a super soldier and lead a team of superheroes, but he’s still the same scared guy he used to be, running away from feelings he can’t control.

He’s still a coward.