MiniFill Series

A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request.

Spooning

Pairing: Bruce/Clint

Warnings: Fluffy

Clint was staring at the thermostat. He had been staring at the mercury for the last twenty minutes and had been increasingly concerned that he wasn't imagining things. Tony was out on business and Bruce was in the workshop. He was in a sweater and thick denim when Clint walked in shivering.

"Heating's busted."

The other man spared him a single look of unconcerned surprise, then nodded.

"There are sweaters in Tony's room. Passcode's 002759."

Clint decided he was actually imaging that he could see his breath but the shivers were real enough. But he didn't like the idea of breaking into Tony's room just to steal a sweater and so he plucked the doctor by his wrist away from whatever project he was so absorbed in and dragged him all the way up on beyond the lab levels and workout floor to the living quarters. He typed in the access code, diligently ignoring all of Bruce's patient attempts to reason him out of whatever they were about to trespass upon Tony's room. The door slid open with a hiss and clicked shut behind them once Clint dragged the doctor across the threshold.

"I really shouldn't leave that project unattended for too long," Bruce said as he was tugged toward the bed.

"How long is too long?" Clint asked, unlacing his boots with his free hand.

Bruce considered and almost shrugged, "Forty minutes, give or take five-"

"Forty-five minutes," Clint muttered, and tugged as he kicked behind Bruce's ankles, and they tumbled backwards together onto the bed.

Bruce let the surprise take him and groaned a little as Clint snickered. Tony's bed was soft and plush, though, and that it wasn't either of theirs meant that Clint's conquest wasn't sexual. Bruce's instinct was only confirmed when the archer took the covers and tossed them over the two of them and tucked himself into Bruce's arms.

They shuffled a minute or two, moving their arms and shifting their legs and adjusting the blanket before they found a position both of them were really comfortable in. Eventually Clint's breathing evened and his shivers stopped. Bruce hardly noticed with the familiar lazy drag of the archer's talented fingers over the curls in his hair doing terrible terrible things to his ability to concentrate.

"You could've gotten a jacket," Bruce chided an hour later.

"You could've not totaled the heater."

There was a brief stretch of silence.

"Busted," Clint continued, and Bruce pretended he couldn't feel the archer's grin grow against his neck, "Tony's gonna throw a hissy fit when he gets back and see what you left of it."

"There's bits left?"

"You missed some of the wiring where it connects to the wall."

"...damn." His arms curled around Clint's chest and the archer sighed as all his air was encouraged gently out of him.

"If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask, Bruce," Clint murmured, curled into the short man's arms, forehead between the plush mattress and Bruce's neck. The man's throat hummed with his brief laugh.

"I'll ask next time," Bruce promised. He tugged Clint closer and failed completely to look even an ounce repentant.