I Feel Alright - Steve Earle

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@abowandarrowtype-blog
I Feel Alright - Steve Earle
[His lips twitch. Heâs amused, truly.]
I never claimed to be sane, Barton.
[He pauses, uncertainty flickering across his face for a fraction of a moment before its covered with a neutral calm.]
Is the why so important? The reasoning behind my asking for this will hardly change any opinions of me.
[He tilts his head, studying Barton for a long moment.]
âŠI chose it because it wasâŠnecessary.Â
Necessary? Necessary for what?
You think a little down time is going to make you feel better? If this is about what happened in the elevator...
[He cuts himself off with a scoff and a scowl.]
[He sighs.]
Taken.  Removed from you.  I am no healer, Barton. MyâŠskillâŠleans heavily towards illusion and destruction, but I have some small ability to transfer injury. A thing I would rather you  not mention. Â
[He pauses, holding the looser shirt in his hands, brows furrowed as he considers how to phrase his words.]
The injury caused to you by myâŠhmmâŠlack of controlâŠwas not intentional. It was not intended for you.
[His lips twitch with a half smile as he pulls the shirt over his head.]
[He's silent, staring for a moment, not sure what to make of what's been said.] That's a real pretty way of saying you're going crazy, Loki.
Honestly? I don't care what happened so much as what didn't. I didn't die and you didn't get sent back to Asgard so it hardly matters. You did lock yourself down here though, from what Tony says anyway. Why?
About Sophie - Keaton Henson
Sheâs an unwelcome shudder on the worst of her days And despite the bad moods, she wonât go away Sheâs as stubborn as winter and as kind as the sun And she wonât freeze or burn anyone On most days she drives me home, out of her way And when I say âDrive safeâ I mean it, today Because Iâm a tough luck friend Iâll reckon sheâll stay with me, til the end And it means more than I pretend Her carâs like a sauna made mostly of smoke And it glides back to hers, most late nights like a ghost And nothing is said unless it needs to be Iâll watch a movie, sheâll fall asleep Sheâs one of those who when youâre talking, youâll see Sheâs really listening to someone like me Why was she listening to someone like me? Because Iâm a tough shit friend And Iâll reckon sheâll stay with me til the end And it means more than I pretend And I know Iâm awful, I canât even cry Itâs about time I told her and looked in her eyes âYouâre my best friend, Iâll love you til one of us dies Youâre my best friend, Iâll love you til one of us dies Youâre my best friend, Iâll love you til one of us diesâ
Vodka on the Rocks | Natasha
Natasha sensed things had changed between them in the time she had been away, an electricity that was in the air. Just as she was about to pull her hand her away, Clint put his hand on hers, the rough skin making her breathe deeply. Turning to look at her, she pulled his hand down closer towards her, her thumb stroking the back of his thumb, sensing his need for touch, support, though she did not know what he was about to say.
âIâm an idiot, Nat. Half the time. No, most of the time,â Instead of smiling at his words as she would normally, she tilted her head to one side, frowning a little. Blue eyes meeting hers, she swallowed a sip of vodka, surmising that maybe she was hiding behind the glass at his serious tone. He was her partner. It was rare he said this much without cracking a joke or trying to make her smile.
âAnd this is late and probably a mistake because love is for children like you always say, and we canât afford to be children, right? But neither of us ever were, really and maybe thatâs the whole pointâŠâ Natasha blinked in amazement as he talked, not missing the L word that he dropped in there. Part of her wanted to put her feet on the floor and run back out of the apartment and Stark Tower as quick as she could. And yet she had run from emotions for so long. Just how much longer was she going to run?
Clint was more than her partner. For so long, they had been skirting round this thing that other people commented and watched. Only they had not talked about it. It was just part of who they were, silent yet deadly⊠Perhaps they needed to talk, but right now, Nat was not sure what to say, not if Clint was going where she thought he was. She watching him rub his hands through his hair and removing her feet from his lap, she curled them up next to her.
âBut I love you, Tasha. Should have said it a while ago, âcause itâs true. Itâs the truest thing in the damn world.âÂ
Natasha bit her lower lip at his words. There was a whole world of difference in suspecting someone loved you and actually hearing them say that. A stinging behind her eyes suddenly made her realise that his words were making her tearful. Nat could not remember the last time she cried. No, no crying, no matter what he says.
âJust thought you should know sometime.â He let go of her hand and in doing that, she realised he knew the turmoil of emotions that was twisting in her gut. Clint Barton knows you so well, she thought, donât walk away from him. Her inner voice scared her and she had to ask.
âHow ⊠how long have you known?â Hugging her knees, she looked at him, wanting to knowâŠ
He looked away from her, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. Already he was regretting this. The reason he'd waited so long to say anything was because he was worried that she didn't feel the same way. He knew that she had a hard life, that her childhood had been more pain and suffering and control than anyone should ever have to endure, that it had made things hard for her even now. He supposed that the Russians had won in some ways with her, she was still a deadly weapon, she still knew how to keep her emotions out of the way. Hell, the only person who could compromise Nat was... Well, him.Â
But he knew that emotions had been considered a weakness in her life for so long that she still had trouble with them. Love is for children, Clint. It was a mantra she had used to keep him out, or so he'd thought. Maybe it was just something she told herself to get to sleep at night. He wasn't sure. He didn't even need her to return the words, he just needed for her to stay. To let him have this, to keep her in his life for a while longer.
"For a while I guess. It kinda snuck up on me, you know?" He picked up his abandoned glass of vodka and downed the rest of the liquid in one go. "I've been trying to put it off, because it's dangerous as hell, but... I've always done things the hard way."
When he met her gaze there was an edge of pleading in his voice. "Just tell me I'm crazy or something, and we'll forget it. You had news for me anyway, something you couldn't tell me by text?"
Tick-Tock Goes the Clock | Barnes & Barton
Almost as soon as Bucky heard Natashaâs voice, he was pulling away from Bartonâs bruised body. He let her pull his arm away, her touch on him enough to break through the cloud of rage and anger that had flooded his body. Flopping back on his ass, Bucky found a wall to lean against, breathing heavily. There was a bruise forming on the side of his face, from one of Bartonâs glancing punches, but otherwise, he wasnât any worse for wear.Â
Bucky blinked, looking across the room as Barton, blood dripping down into a ruined shirt. Shit, he thought. It looked pretty bad, the blood on his hands was tangible, lines of warm, sticky red across them and then Barnes was standing over a broken and beaten form blood pooling on the ground as the last breath rattled from punctured lungs before he was watching from across a field the comfortable weight of gun in his hands his target miles away watching the spill of blood soak into concrete the feel of barn skin under his hands the pressure of a heartbeat jumping in throat as the life was crushed out of themâ
In the here and now, Buckyâs breathing came in short gasps, his pupils dilating, looking somewhere beyond the crowd in forming in the room. He dug his nails into this thighs, trying to focus, to see Natasha standing in front of him, focus on the look on her face, the anger in her voice. She was here, it was 2012 and he wasnât the merchant of death anymore.Â
Natasha saw a beaten Clint hobble out from Buckyâs grip. The blood was still thundering in her ears, sheer frustration at the two of them acting like idiots. Seeing the state of his already swelling eyes from the broken nose, she stomped over to Clintâs fridge and got a tray of ice out, looking round for a towel or something to wrap it up in. Steak would have been better but sure enough, there was no meat to be found. Dumping the ice in the towel, she tied it and walked back over to him, holding his hand out as he made his excuses.
âTasha this isnât⊠WeâŠâ Natasha raised an eyebrow as she pressed the ice into his hand.
âHere. Put this on your nose.â His pitiable excuses could wait for now, Nat just didnât want to hear it.
Turning to Bucky, she was just about to ask what he was doing there and why did he chose to come into the building the way he had â when she saw him staring at hands that were covered in stickied blood. Her anger faded to be replaced with cold fear. Natasha recognised the blank stare, the heavy breathing as he appeared to either be having a flashback or a panic attack. She watched him dig his nails into his thighs and she reach across to squeeze his hand.
âJames?â Tasha squeezed his hand to get his attention. âJames. Come back, please.â She had a terrible feeling that his mind was in Russia or during World War II â both bloody eraâs. No-one needs to relive those times.
Clint took the offered towel with a frown, her bad mood rubbing against his like salt on a wound. He knew she would react like this, he knew that the last thing she wanted was for him to act like an idiot about this whole thing. He'd let his feelings in the spur of the moment get the better of him, and here he was with a broken nose and rattled teeth to show for it. A pretty red mark on the floor to match the one on his shirt. He felt sick and his nose had begun to throb painfully by the time he placed the ice on it, his scowl turning quickly to a wince of pain.
He had promised her that she wouldn't lose him and he'd meant it. She was his best friend, his partner his... his... She was more than he had words for, and seeing her so genuinely angry because of his actions was more than he could take.
Clint stood with a final backwards glance towards Bucky and Natasha. It didn't take eyes like his to see what was going on. To see what kind of relationship those two had shared once upon a time, maybe even still shared. They were so similar in so many ways, years of shared experiences bringing them together in a shower of blood and bonds that transcended friendship. Clint had always been sure that he and Natasha had a bond like that, but he saw it now. He saw how wrong he had been.
He spat on the floor, adding another red smear to the already ruined carpet, and stood up, walking towards the door and Tony all at once. He gave the other man a look that read most like a warning. He didn't want to talk about what had happened.
"I'm out of here. You coming or should I get you some carpet shampoo?"
[text] bribery at its finest. Tell me it's the good stuff, and I'm in. I'll even bake cupcakes.
[text] It's the good stuff. If you do make cupcakes, I like vanilla icing best :)
[text] there's always too much coffee, but we only stock toaster snacks. What, you think I buy dresses for you?
[text] I'm always game for toaster snacks. Something tells me that if I answer this you'll get mad at me so I'm just going to offer half a bottle of tequila and a Golden Girls marathon next weekend.
[text] it's break time. I've distracted Jane with poptarts and coffee.
[text] Remember, if there's ever too much food or coffee down there you know who to call, right? But really, are you buying a dress or something? 'Cause you'd look better in red.
[text] oh, just some research. Totally nothing important.
[text] I don't think they're keeping you busy enough down in that lab if this is the kinda thing you're researching.
Pick one, purple or hot pink.
Always purple.Â
...Why?
Living With Wolves | Bucky
He padded along the darkened hallway of the common area, the half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in one of his hands sloshing around the inside of the bottle as he walked. The city lights that streamed in though the large glass windows cast the kitchen in a dull orange half light that Clint cut a path through, his pupils blown wide in the dark of the room. He'd asked JARVIS to keep the lights off. No need to accidentally wake someone else or alert anyone to him skulking around at this time in the morning with a drink in hand.Â
It wasn't like he was going to make a habit of drinking alone, though years of whiskey straight out of the bottle after the nightmares had caught up with him was a secret he'd keep to his grave. He doubted that Natasha was even aware of that post-mission ritual, though considering that it had largely ended with her appearance a few years back, he'd never really felt the need to tell her about it.
Something about it hit a little too close to home for him to want to acknowledge it properly.
He opened the door to the refrigerator, peering inside with a frown. The common fridge was usually much better stocked than the one in his kitchenette but he couldn't find much save for a pack of cookie dough, which he promptly lifted and opened, pulling off parts of the uncooked dough and stuffing them into his mouth.
It was a little childish and more than a little pathetic to be shuffling around in the dark with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a packet of dough in the other, but Clint was past the point of caring. He alternated mouthfuls of dough with alcohol and leant on the kitchen counter, watching the New York city lights through the windows.
Avengers fanart: Just another day at the office by ~astridv
Vodka on the Rocks | Natasha
Natasha smirked as Clintâs skillful hands massaged her feet as he told her about what she had missed. It almost sounded as mundane as her most recent op. But she had missed the mundanity of Stark Tower life⊠it meant she would have been here with Clint and not there alone.
As he moved his hands further up her legs, she sipped at her drink and looked at Clint. He liked more excitement, thrived on it. Without it, she wondered how long he lasted before he started bouncing off walls.
âOh, and that Spider-Man kid finally showed at the Tower. Furyâs been making noises about having someone train him properly, sânot really my thing though.â Nat raised an eyebrow as he talked about training him.
Shrugging, she said, âI donât mind. You know how I feel about beating up new recruits.â Natasha grinned and played with the glass.
As his hands came to a stop at her knees, she glanced up at him as he said, âIâve missed having you around, Nat.â
Perhaps she needed to start to be honest with him. Clint had not been just a partner for a long time. Looking at him, she reached up and gently ran her thumb along Clintâs nose. âI missed you too, Clint. Itâs been a long month without you there.â
He looked away, feeling suddenly deceitful under her gaze. This was heading towards dangerous territory faster than he had anticipated. Both of them had gotten by this long by caring silently. Hell, it had gotten to the point where they didn't need to say anything. It was a relationship of gestures and glances, a language mapped out on their skin and the way they moved around each other. He knew her like he knew himself, he had traced her scars with his hands and found ways into her head without having to ask. She'd let him into her life piece by piece and he had let him into hers. They were partners and best friends and perfectly, devastatingly well-matched.
They worked so well together for more reasons than one.
He loved how she looked when she had just woken up, hair mussed from sleep. He loved the cant of her hips when she stood next to him. He loved the way her mother tongue sounded from her mouth, Я ŃĐșŃŃал ĐżĐŸ ŃДбД, ĐŒĐŸŃ ĐŒĐ°Đ»Đ”ĐœŃĐșĐ°Ń ĐżŃĐžŃа. He loved the way she looked at him, was looking at him now and damn everything because he'd gone long enough without telling her so.
He covered her hand with his own, realising she was making peace with the bruise that had coloured his nose for weeks, courtesy of Bucky.Â
"I'm an idiot, Nat. Half the time. No, most of the time," he said finally, meeting her gaze again. "And this is late and probably a mistake because love is for children like you always say, and we can't afford to be children, right? But neither of us ever were, really and maybe that's the whole point..." He cut himself off with a sigh, running his free hand through his hair. "But I love you, Tasha. Should have said it a while ago, 'cause it's true. It's the truest thing in the damn world." He let go of her hand and sat back, watching her carefully. "Just thought you should know sometime."
Tick-Tock Goes the Clock | Barnes & Barton
Bartonâs punch was well aimed, the contact to his jaw sending Bucky back, breaking his concentration. He was still processing Bartonâs words, something about Steve and Natasha and the Winter Soldier. And nightmares. Barton had no idea what he was even saying. Â Bucky roared, head jerking aside to avoid fingers trying to gouge out eyes, his own hands coming down, flesh on flesh, metal pressing into a shoulder, aiming for whatever damage he could do.
Bucky could feel Barton trying to get out from under him, one of Bartonâs knees jerking up to hit him. He shifted away, pushing down harder with his own leg, on Bartonâs ribs. Buckyâs arm seemed to have a mind of itâs own, clench Bartonâs shirt in a tight fist, pulling him up off the floor only to just throw him back down again. Barton might have his head, Bucky couldnât be sure, but the hands at his face and neck paused for a heartbeat, long enough to Bucky to grab them and twist, sending Barton up off the floor again, his arm pulled tight against his back, Buckyâs mouth in his ear.
âMove, and I snap it.â His voice was low, threatening, barely even a growl. Bucky could hear his heartbeat in his own throat, the adrenaline rushing through his veins. âYou want to know what a nightmare is like? It would be so easy to kill you right now.â His cybernetic arm moved up to press against Bartonâs pulse in his throat.
âYou think you know me.â
As an annoyed Tony jumped into the elevator to Clintâs apartment, he couldnât help but analyse the situation on the ride up. While on the surface it didnât make a lot of sense that Bucky would bypass security to fight with the SHIELD agent, Tony had already run through a number of the most likely scenarios in his head.
There was however, one that stood apart from the rest; one that Tony really had the most evidence on (which was to say not much at all) and one that had to do with something heâd asked Clint and Natasha about in the past. Ever since shawarma heâd poked and prodded them about their relationship no matter how many times they had denied it, and Bucky coming into the picture now was sure to complicate things on that front. That is, if what Bucky told him about Russia and the Soviets and Natasha was actually true. If it was then it was hard not to imagine that the pair of them had been involved in that lifetime. Tony thought heâd reached an age where he wasnât going to come across Days of Our Lives style problems like this anymore.Â
Wait, just how old was Natasha anyway?Â
Tony didnât get to dwell on that thought much longer as the elevator stopped, and he found himself outside Clintâs apartment. Despite Natashaâs hints heâd forgone the suit; for one thing sheâd asked him to keep this from Steve and Tony walking around in it wasnât exactly inconspicuous. Also his pride was somewhat hurt that she didnât think him capable of breaking up a fight like this without it. Heâd seen the arm already and thought he had a pretty good idea of how to deal with it, and for all he knew Clint already had the upper hand in this situation anyway, what with all that SHIELD training and all.Â
And the Black Widowâs going to back me up as well, he thought as she arrived, giving her a look. Not that he was going to admit that to her this time around.Â
Natasha felt the adrenaline running through her veins. Though both men were excellent fighters, Bucky had a huge advantage hand to hand. And knowing Clint she knew once he realised just who he was, the wily archer would not be able to resist opening his mouth and putting his size elevenâs straight in thereâŠ
Swearing under her breath, she was relieved when the elevator opened and a frowning Tony stood next to the door. âReady?â She asked Tony, though if he wasnât, it was tough, she was ready to go stop the impending bloodbath inside Clintâs flat.
Using the access code, she quickly opened the door and swung it open, walking straight in - to see the two of them wrestling on the floor, both men bloodied and beaten. Hissing through her teeth she said,
âYouâre not fucking cavemen, both of you. Get your arm off him!â she growled and stood over the two men, gripping Buckyâs metal arm and yanking it behind him, worried he would choke Clint. It was rare she allowed anger to get the better of her but both men knew her well enough to know she was literally seeing red.
Clint hissed with pain as the arm tightened behind his back, the joint straining under the pressure of Barnes' grip. He knew that this had been a risk from the very start, that this man was as deadly if not more so than Natasha was. It hadn't mattered though, he'd let misplaced pride egg him on and now he was close to not only a broken arm, but from the feel of flesh-warmed metal around his throat, a snapped neck too.
He forced himself to go limp in Barnes' grasp, exhaling loudly through his mouth at the sight of the door to his apartment opening and none other than Natasha barrelling through the door. She looked furious and his cheeks all but burned from shame at the sound of her voice.
Then the metal left his throat and the pressure on his arm ceased. Clint felt himself fall forward heavily onto the ground, pulling himself out from under Barnes as best he could in his state.
He caught sight of Tony just inside the door and a new wave of bitterness washed over him, something like anger and disappointment blurring the edges of his vision. Or maybe he was going to pass out. He was never good at telling the difference.
He pulled himself to his knees when he was safely out of the other man's grasp, his swollen eyes glancing between the pure fury on Natasha's face and the unreadable expression on Bucky's.
"Tasha this isn't... We..." He could think of nothing that would even begin to excuse his actions so he twisted back towards the door, pulling his shirt off and starting to dab at his nose with the already bloody material.
Vodka on the Rocks | Natasha
âOne vodka on the rocks for the weary traveller.â
Natasha gratefully took the glass from Clint, noticing her fingers touch his as she had a sip of icy vodka, allowing the comfort and the chill of the drink to run through her veins. Looking to one side at her partner, she realised it had not only been his personality she missed. Clint had muscular arms she enjoyed running her fingers along during private moments. So some of her teammates could beat Clint hands down for muscularity, but that wasnât the point. They were his and that was the pointâŠ. Natasha swore under her breath as she realised where her thoughts had been heading, luckily coinciding with Clint talking about Sitwell keeping her for a longer debrief. Shaking her head, she leaned back and sipped her drink.âOh believe me, he tried but when I gave him a flatstare and instead promised to come in tomorrow, he let me go. I was at the stage that I would have preferred Nick Fury over Sitwell.â Natasha smiled at him and stretched her legs out and put her sore feet in his lap. âSo was there much happen while I was away?â
Clint set his glass on the arm of the couch, stretching his legs parallel to hers along the edge of the sofa. He hadn't missed the way she was looking at him, and maybe it was just because she hadn't seen him in a long time and she was checking for minute changes, but a part of him wanted to believe that she had missed him more than she would let on.
A smirk ghosted across his lips for a moment as he wrapped his hands around her ankles and tugged slightly, giving her a playful look as he did so. He started at her heels then, rubbing the tension out of her lower legs and feet as she spoke.
"Nothing much, I think Stark's finally getting the message about the security though. Something about another break in on the lower levels." He paused to take a mouthful of vodka before working his hands back along her feet and slowly up her calves.
"If anything, it's been boring here too. Fury has me doing surveillance mostly. Oh, and that Spider-Man kid finally showed at the Tower. Fury's been making noises about having someone train him properly, s'not really my thing though."
His hands paused below her knees. "I've missed having you around, Nat."
Tick-Tock Goes the Clock | Barnes & Barton
Nobody would call the grin that spread across Buckyâs face as anything but evil. There was blood splatter across his face, from the punches and Bartonâs spit. Bucky could see it running down his face to stain the shirt held tightly in his grip. âYou have no idea, Barton.â Bucky spat out the name like a curse, shaking the body under him for a moment.Â
The knee holding Barton down pushed into his spleen, jabbing him once, before Bucky threw him back against the floor, hand slipping from throat to grasp hair. He yanks, hard. âYou think a pretty boy like you can take me? Well. Maybe youâre not so pretty anymore.â
He lay mostly still, planting his feet firmly on the floor, knowing that his only chance for escape lay in Bucky getting angry enough that he let his guard slip. It wasn't likely to happen, but it gave Clint enough of a glimmer of hope to make him bold again, so even when fingers raked roughly through his hair, Clint stared up in grim defiance, not once breaking eye contact.
"So this is Bucky Barnes, huh?" He asked, his mouth splitting into a grin that was closer to a grimace, his teeth shining red in the low light. "This is the man that Steve cares so much about?" He laughed, somewhere low in his chest, spitting out the salty blood that was running from his throbbing nose into his mouth. "Or is this the Winter Soldier? The one Natasha still has nightmares about?"
The hand that Bucky had used to tug at Clint's hair had left the archer a free hand, and he swung it at Barnes' face as hard as he could manage from his position, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the other man's face after the blow had landed.