harborshore | lovers alone wear sunlight (prompts post and meme)

Steve and Natasha. IN A CAVE.

"Do you know where we are?" Steve sounds tired. That's fair, so is she.

"In a cave," she answers, and that gets a smile out of him, at least.

"True," he says. "Any clue about our geographical location?" They were drugged (though Steve only stayed drugged for about an hour, thanks to the Serum, and when Natasha came to, he was carrying her and fleeing through a forest) and flown somewhere and all she really knows is that it's cold.

But it's a fairly distinctive sort of cold.

"Russia," she says. "Siberia, to be precise."

He blinks. "You can tell from--"

"The cold," she says. "Also, they're the people who tend to want me back the most." Three attempts to date, this one being the most successful, since she's actually injured and trapped far from home.

"I don't give much for their survival instincts," he says, grinning at her. "I wouldn't want to try and make you go anywhere you didn't want to go."

"Thanks for getting us both out." Needing a rescue rankles, a little. She's made a point of not needing that.

He shrugs. "Way I see it, I was saving them from what you'd do when you woke up." And it's a compliment, not a dig at her past and current profession as an assassin. Steve Rogers really is the only decent man she knows.

"There's that," she agrees, and smiles at him, then shudders when her broken arm starts throbbing again. Also her ribs. "Pizdets", she mutters, shifting.

"You're injured, aren't you?" Steve says, gaze sharpening.

"You're perceptive," she says, because if she didn't tell him, he would pester her until she did. These Americans and their inability to just leave well enough alone, she'll never be rid of it.

"How bad is it?"

"I'll be fine," she says. "If they find us I'll still be useful in a fight."

Steve looks frustrated. "No, I mean, Natasha--" he takes a deep breath. "It's cold. You need to not go into shock." And then he starts taking off his jacket.

"Don't baby me," she says, close to snapping.

"I'm not babying you," he says. "I don't really get cold. Take the goddamn jacket, please."

The please undoes her. Captain America means what he says, is unbearably honest in every moment, and he won't think her any less capable for needing to borrow his jacket. And she knows, knows it in a way that surpasses certainty and goes straight into the kind of truths that are engraved on stone tablets, that he will never respect her any less than he respects the men he fights with because she admitted to an injury and accepted his help. She has no idea what to do with that, but she's glad he's here with her now.

Mutely, she reaches out her hand for it, and he helps her put it on without saying a word, hands careful on her injured arm.

--

"Agent Romanoff."

Natasha blinks, opening her eyes against the harsh flare. Her onetime handler is standing in the cave, looking decidedly amused.

Oh.

She carefully disentangles herself from Steve, who is still asleep, and eyes Coulson and the rest of his SHIELD entourage.

"If anyone took photos," she says calmly, leaving it at that. Usually it's enough.

Agent Coulson smiles. "I'm sure no one would take advantage of a fellow agent in a vulnerable position." And that ought to do it. Her and Coulson as a joint front, well. Add Clint and they generally freak all of SHIELD out simultaneously.

"Please tell me Stark didn't come," she mutters as they wake Steve up and Coulson hustles Natasha over to the doctor who came on the trip.

"No," Coulson says. "But I can't guarantee he doesn't have access to the communication channels."

"Shit," Natasha says.

--

The pictures of her and Steve cuddled together while the SHIELD agents enter the cave are plastered all over Natasha's rooms when she gets back.

"I will kill you in your sleep," she says conversationally.

Jarvis clears his throat. "Shall I pass that on, Agent Romanoff?"

"Please do."

Edited 2012-05-19 08:23 (UTC)

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Hearts, you.

Awwww, thank you! This is so very wonderful.

Let's be honest: if you have to get caught cuddling in a Siberian cave, better that it's with Steve than anybody else, RIGHT? :D :D :D

I feel as though there is no one more suited to the job. Cuddling! Will totally still respect you in the morning! Etc. :D PS. It is very hard to make Natasha cuddle. For the record.

Edited 2012-05-19 17:25 (UTC)

aaaahhhh favourite <3333

They are SO GREAT.

♥

Steve and Coulson? :D?

YYYY! But where?

A ha ha, I can totally read. :|

Coulson's couch! :D

Phil isn't actually sure what day it is when he opens his door to find Captain America on the doorstep. Things are a little slow and a lot uncertain since he woke up again and found that the Avengers did indeed save the world.

He's not actually surprised, but he is relieved.

But he wasn't expecting Steve Rogers to come visit. They didn't really know each other, after all.

Steve's eyes are red.

"Are you alright, Captain?" Phil asks, shifting to relieve the discomfort he still feels when standing up straight. His physical therapist told him it's good to move around, to strain the muscles a little, but Phil finds that he isn't really a fan, mostly.

Steve doesn't really answer his question, which tells Phil that he isn't actually alright.

"Do you want to come in? I was about to have some breakfast and watch whatever atrocity Clint loaded my DVR with in revenge for, you know. Being me." Being dead was what Clint hadn't said, but it was the truth.

Steve nods and follows Phil inside. He sits down on the floor next to the couch and takes the toast Phil offers him obediently. Phil remembers the rate at which Captain America burns off calories and wishes he'd actually done some grocery shopping yesterday. But presumably his two assassins will turn up at some point, and if he knows them well enough, they'll bring food.

"What is this?" Steve asks, once Toddlers and Tiaras starts. He sounds faintly horrified.

"The worst of the 20th century," Phil says drily. "The female ideal which more closely resembles a nightmare."

"Yes," Steve agrees and eats his toast. An hour later, after they've gone from Toddlers and Tiaras to a National Geographic documentary because Clint doesn't actually hate Phil and most of the content on the DVR is something Phil will like, Steve's breath hitches and he wipes at his eyes quickly.

"Sorry," he says.

"No apology necessary," Phil says and carefully reaches out to touch Steve's shoulder. "Bad days happen." Last night Natasha had to hold him down for two hours while Clint talked himself hoarse until Phil could believe he was with them and not still dying on the helicarrier.

"That they do," Steve agrees and leans into Phil's hand a little. They stay like that for a while, Steve leaning on him and Phil keeping his grip steady and the fauna of the Victorian Falls passing in the background.

"Every day's an anniversary," Steve says eventually, and Phil nods.

"In more than one way," he reminds Steve, because it's a month ago today since he woke up and found out he'd get more time.

♥_____________♥

I swear, at least 80% of the reason I choose to believe Coulson isn't dead is so I can imagine him and Steve awkwardly becoming friends over bad television.

♥ That is a very important part of my headcanon as well. For real.

THIS IS DELIGHTFUL :D

Hey, glad you think so! It was hard to get them to actually cuddle, but hopefully the comfort in it is enough anyway? ♥

.....I had a really really bad day at work, so I'm indulging myself here:

Thor and a kitten. A FLUFFY KITTEN. LIKE THIS ONE:

or this one!

or maybe this one!

or heck, this one's cute too!

....this wasn't just an excuse for me to spam you with cute kittens. It was also a) an excuse for me to look at cute kittens and b) a serious request. I would LOVE a ficlet about Thor cuddling a kitten. *pets Thor*

Thor is decidedly taken aback when he enters the Avengers Mansion and none of his comrades are there. Instead of Tony asking to test Mjölnir's effect on some new invention of his or Steve asking to spar or Natasha making him cook her lunch (Thor has mastered the art of cooking in this new environment; he is very much looking forward to demonstrating his new skill set to Jane, who is on her way from Norway now that the threat is deemed to have passed), he is greeted by cats.

Kittens, rather.

He finds one of them in the foyer, sitting in the middle of the floor looking forlorn.

"Little one," Thor says, because the Allspeak is useful for many things, including the ability to make himself understood to animals in all realms, "are you lost?"

"Call me little again and I'll kick your ass, big guy," the kitten replies, twitching its tiny tiny nose.

That was a rather distinctive tone. "Clint Barton!" Thor says happily, scooping him up. "I didn't know you had the ability to shape-shift!"

"I don't," Clint says patiently, and, true to his nature, climbs up Thor's arm to sit on his shoulder.

"Not the hair," Thor says hastily, because Clint does tend to choose the highest vantage point he can get to.

"Fine," Clint mutters, biting at Thor's throat. Thor can't really feel it, but he imagines Clint misses his usual weaponry.

"What happened to make you so small?" he says, grinning when Clint hisses in protest.

"Fucking magic," Clint says. "You're sure your brother can't get out, right?"

There is real anxiety in his voice, and Thor's heart is sore at the thought of his brother, awaiting trial in Asgard.

"He cannot touch you," he says gently. "Something else must be the cause. Have you seen any of the others?"

"Natasha is hiding," Clint says. "She's tiny and black, of course. The others--I don't know about Stark or Banner. Maybe there's a green cat somewhere?"

Thor almost stumbles then, because another kitten walks across the floor right in front of them. It isn't green, but the way it blinks at them--"Bruce?" Thor asks.

"Yes," Bruce says tightly. "Someone tell me this will be over soon?"

"I wonder what would happen if you shifted right now," Clint says.

"We would contain you," Thor says.

"Because that went so well last time," Bruce mutters.

"Not to worry," Thor says firmly. "We need to find the others."

They do, slowly. Tony is holed up under a table in his lab and only comes out when Bruce hops off of Thor's shoulder and walks in there to coax him out. Steve's the smallest, sickly and scrawny, and Thor picks him up carefully because he cannot be sure that Steve can climb up himself. Natasha doesn't come out until they've all gathered in the living room, and she doesn't say a word to any of them but also doesn't push Clint off when he crawls next to her and starts licking at her face. Thor lets the other three fall asleep on him, and he finally succumbs to slumber himself when he has tried Coulson twice and manages to leave a message with the irritating system the Midgardians came up with to replace messengers.

*flails*

KITTENS COVERING THOR.

Thank you, I kind of needed that visual.

My job here is done, then :D

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Clint is drunk.

No, scratch that, Clint is very drunk. Steve holds out an arm to prevent him from walking into a wall.

Clint snorts. "Boy scout," he pronounces carefully. "You didn't have to follow me."

"Natasha asked me to," Steve says, which means yes I did. "She would have come herself, but she's quarantined after the last job, you remember."

"Right," Clint says, rubbing at his eyes. "The virus one. She'll be fine, she has an immune system--it's a good immune system."

Steve's fairly sure that Natasha's immune system has been improved by some of the same scientists who mindwiped her once or twice or fifteen times, and he's glad she at least got something useful out of it. He wants her to be okay. She was sent in to retrieve the lab notebooks of a lab that had a virus outbreak; she knew the risks, had access to all the latest protective gear, she chose to take the job. He knows that. And he couldn't have said no when she asked him to retrieve Barton. Those who do their duty are owed some consideration in return.

"Is this where you've been staying?" he says, nodding at the warehouse Clint almost walked into.

"Yes," Clint says. "Yeah, home sweet home. Come on in." He's sarcastic, but Steve chooses to take him at face value (his reputation is useful sometimes).

It's stark, a mattress in a corner with a blanket and a pillow and a military-looking carry-all bag next to it. "Nice," Steve says mildly.

"Shut up," Clint says. "The apartment--" his voice is raw. Steve blinks against the way it resonates in his own head, the way he can't get rid of Bucky's face as he fell or Peggy's voice as Steve went into the ocean.

"Hey," he says, and, steeling himself, reaches out, pulling Barton in. He doesn't know what makes him do it; it's not like Barton invites casual touch, but he looked like Bucky used to when he was upset just then, shoulders hunched and tense face.

Barton pushes at him at first and Steve would let go, except it doesn't take him very long to relax, hands tight on Steve's jacket, staying close. Steve doesn't say anything because there isn't anything to say, but he'll stay there as long as Clint needs him to.

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<333333! UGH, them. This team and their respective everythings.

For

torakowalski, who said: Steve and Bucky have 70 years of cuddling to catch up on? on Twitter.

"Can't sleep?" Steve sounds rough, which is fair, because it's--Bucky sneaks a look at the clock on the kitchen wall--3:37 AM.

"I'm fine," he says automatically. "Go back to bed, Steve."

"Only if you come too," Steve says, then blushes, obviously catching what that sounded like.

"You want me to come to bed with you?" Bucky says, grinning and sprawling in the kitchen chair. "Why, Steven, this is all so sudden."

"Shut up," Steve says, shaking his head. "I just. I keep waking up and thinking it's a dream that you, that you're--"

Bucky rubs a hand across his face. He knows that feeling. He'd woken up in a panic, entirely certain that escaping had all been a dream, that he was going to wake up in the Red Room with another set of memories implanted, another mission pulling at him. The kitchen just seemed like a better place to be after that. Steve's kitchen table is full of mission plans; the sink is full of the dishes he didn't do before leaving for his last mission. The clutter is reassuring.

"Yeah, okay," he decides.

Steve blinks at him.

"I'll sleep with you," Bucky clarifies, then snorts at the look on Steve's face. "Not like that, I mean. It'll be easier to know where we are when we wake up if we're both, you know."

"Yeah," Steve says, smiling at him. The smile tugs at something in Bucky, and he makes himself smile back just as easily.

"Take me to bed, soldier," he says, then blinks, shifts and looks down. "But, um, be gentle, it's my first--"

"Shut the hell up," Steve says, blushing again.

In the bed, Bucky stretches out on his side, facing the wall. He's expecting Steve to face the other way, but instead Steve pulls him in, arm around his waist, and goes to sleep. Bucky considers waking him up and making him turn around, because it's hot as hell, lying this close to Steve, but it's also--he couldn't move if he tried, and for once the restraint isn't scary at all.

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<33333333333333

OHHHHH! *___* BEST THING IN THE WHOLE WORLD.

&YOU; love love love.

I would love to see Charles and Erik cuddling! How about sitting together on a train or the backseat of a car?

Three days into their mutant recruitment trip, the car Charles had conned out of the airport rental sputtered, then stopped. The helpful road sign said that the nearest town was 50 miles away. Why did America have to be so big, that's what Erik constantly asked himself. Vast, incomprehensible, irritating country that it was.

He sighed. "Looks like we're sleeping here tonight."

Charles blinked at him. "Can't you--" he waggled his fingers.

"I'm not a mechanic," Erik said, which wasn't strictly true (he'd been his own mechanic plenty of times, and he could in fact tell what the problem was at the moment), but it was entirely true that he couldn't fix their car. "Unless you can flirt us into someone else's vehicle or you want to walk 50 miles, we're shit out of luck, as the Americans like to say."

"I couldn't take someone's car," Charles said, scandalized, and Erik didn't point out that he'd done exactly that, earlier. He smirked, though, guessing that Charles would pick up the thought. Charles frowned at him. "There is a difference between borrowing a car from a rental service and convincing some stranger to detour from their--you're making fun of me."

"Only a little bit," Erik said. "Your criteria for what is and isn't ethical seem to be a bit fluid."

"Just for that, I'm sleeping on you," Charles said. "Get in the car."

Erik blinked. That was a little more comfortable than he'd expected Charles to be about effectively cuddling with a man. Fine.

It took some scrambling and some shifting and some muffled cursing on Erik's part (Charles had sharp elbows) but they finally managed to get themselves situated. Charles muttered something about Erik thinking too loudly, but then he went right to sleep. Perhaps it was part of his mutation somehow, Erik mused, and realized he was stroking Charles' hair.

He stopped. He hadn't really expected to be this comfortable with Charles sleeping on him either, but it was nice. Charles' face relaxed in sleep, so that he looked even younger than he usually did. Absurdly young, for a professor. And vulnerable. He looked deceptively vulnerable.

Erik recognized that his thoughts were approaching a state he would ordinarily refer to as maudlin, but he couldn't bring himself to mind. Charles was breathing calmly in his arms and the moonlight was creeping in through the window and Erik felt at peace, for the first time in months. Years.

"I don't know what you've done to me," he whispered. Charles shifted against him, shivering a little, and Erik snagged his jacket from the front seat by the metal in the zipper, covering Charles carefully.

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♥

Steve's in the New York Public Library when he notices. He's the only one browsing the History shelves at 9 in the morning, aside from the tired-looking girl whose purse keeps sliding off her shoulders who seems to be looking for information related to the Gulf War. Steve's a little tired of the sheer number of wars during the 20th century, even though he knows older generations didn't really do it better.

Anyway. It's not that she's being obvious, Natasha is never obvious, but his hearing got quite a bit better from the serum, and he thinks she's making a point of not being quite as sneaky as she can be. He doesn't react well to being startled, which she knows, because she's good at people like that.

"Light reading?" she says.

"I." He thinks about it. "I just want to understand," he says, finally, glancing at her.

She nods. "It's hard to understand. I lived through some of it, and it's still--" she shrugs, nudging a little bit closer.

"So many people," he says, nodding at the books. "So many dead, because--"

"Some of them because of me," she says, and it's flat, no inflection, and she's waiting for him to flinch.

"You're here now," he says, and she smiles a little at that.

"I don't think I'm any better than the people who are still there," she says. "I just got lucky."

"I left people behind too," he says. "I don't think I'm any more--the war killed so many good men. And women."

She nods. "Every day's an anniversary," she says, fingering a book titled The Rise and Fall of the KGB.

It's an impulse, and he's not sure why he does it, because Natasha sure doesn't invite casual touch when she doesn't know you very well, and they don't know each other that well yet. But he puts his arm around her shoulders and squeezes, quickly, leaning his head against her hair for a second. She's always much shorter than he expects.

She only lets him do it for about four seconds before she shrugs off his arm. Her eyes are warm, though, so he's not too worried.

"Let's go outside," she says. "You could use some sun. You can read more later."

"I need to--" he says, and she nods.

"I know. I really do know. I mainlined books for months after I got out. But sunshine, soldier boy, it cures all ills. Or near enough."

um, let's see. I kind of just want puppy pile avengers with everyone just sort of relaxing after shwarma or a different apocalypse. maybe Black Widow is all, 'cuddling is for children!' but then accidentally somehow gets sucked in. I haven't looked above, so if this has already been done, let's try something with Steve being out of time and needing cuddles.

thankssssss <333

VERY BELATED, sorry. I had serious writers' block there for a while. Part 1/2.

Steve can't sleep. He's been getting by on 2-3 hours per night since coming back, and he thinks the Serum must be compensating, because normal people couldn't do that. Not and still function. So he's mostly fine. But he's just so tired.

Tony finds him in the living room, trying to figure out the remote control to the TV. It's a TV Tony modified, which makes the remote about eight times more complicated than a normal one, given how many options Tony made available. Normally Steve can operate it just fine, but tonight exhaustion is making his fingers clumsy.

"Hey," Tony says. "Hey, Steve, give me that. What are--there's really nothing on right now, but Europe is up and awake, so there might, like--" He takes over the remote and ends up with a British quiz show of some sort. "There, that's suitably boring, it should put you to sleep right away."

"It really won't," Steve says, because he already slept two hours and was jolted awake by nothing, heart hammering. He won't be sleeping any more tonight, he's just holding off on the coffee because he's stubborn.

"Fine," Tony says. "Then we'll be awake and mock the British together, that should be good for you, right, it's probably in your job description." He sits down right next to Steve, fiddling with his phone. Tony always fiddles with things, so Steve doesn't think too much of it until Pepper comes in, rubbing at her eyes.

"Tony," she says tiredly. "Your definition of an emergency leaves something to be desired."

"Steve can't sleep," Tony says, blinking innocently at her. "You should come watch terrible TV with us, it's kind of fun."

"Oh," she says, and gets on Steve's other side, leaning against him.

"Seriously, it's fine," Steve says. "I'm fine. You guys don't have to stay up because I can't sleep."

"Shhh," Tony says. "You're talking over the TV." He nudges Steve into slouching a little on the couch. "There, isn't that comfier?"

"Sure," Steve says helplessly.

An hour later, Bruce wanders into the living room. He blinks when he sees them. "You're up early," he says.

"So are you," Pepper points out. Her voice is warm. Steve has noticed she really seems to like Bruce. As does Tony. And Steve, of course, but the two of them look at Bruce Banner like they want to keep him.

"Well, I left an experiment running, you know how it is. I had to set an alarm to get up and check on it."

"You know Jarvis can do that, can't you Jarvis?" Tony says.

"Of course, sir," Jarvis says. "I did offer." Steve will never understand how Tony's robot--AI, they call him--has such a pronounced personality. Though he supposes Tony has enough personality for five people, it would make sense that his AI got some spillover.

"I like keeping an eye on things," Bruce says.

"That makes sense," Pepper says. "But you should come watch TV with us, just this once." Bruce sits down next to Tony, which is apparently Tony's cue to squirm around until he has his head in Bruce's lap and his legs over Steve's.

"Mmm, comfy," he says. "Pepper, can you get the--"

"Yes," she says, and presses something on the couch, and suddenly it starts shifting. "You know Tony, I have to say, this was one of your better ideas."

Steve doesn't understand what she means until the couch has finished shifting, and it's suddenly much bigger, much softer, and they're sort of all piled together.

Part 2/2.

"Aww, are we having a team cuddle and no one told me?" Clint says, and they all look up. Clint drops down from a hole in the ceiling. He looks up at it. "Jarvis, the rats are in the north-west quadrant. They chewed through all the wires, that's why you couldn't see where they were coming from."

"Much obliged, sir," Jarvis says. "You should join the team cuddle, I believe they'd appreciate it."

"We would," Pepper says.

Clint looks very dubious, but he gets down on one corner of the couch.

"Oh, come on," Tony says, reaching out and yanking him down.

No one is really watching the TV anymore. It should be uncomfortable, lying there with people blanketing him from every direction; Steve should feel like he's being smothered. But he doesn't.

It does get a little crowded once Thor joins them. He makes even a ballroom seem crowded, so that makes sense. Natasha only joins them very reluctantly, once everyone promises to let her keep her coffee.

"Only if you don't spill," Clint says, grinning at her.

"Only if I don't--" Natasha mutters, swiping at him. "What kind of an insult is that? Like I wouldn't be able to keep from spilling, are you serious?"

He dodges her hand and pulls her down. She doesn't spill a drop of coffee.

Steve's warm. Not uncomfortably warm, just warm. The TV has gone quiet; presumably someone sat on the remote. He feels safe. Closing his eyes, he yawns. He won't sleep, but maybe he can rest. Just for a little while.

oh this was so lovely to wake up to this morning. Thank you so much. I love that you somehow combined my two prompts into magic happy-making cuddling.

<3333333333

lovers alone wear sunlight (prompts post and meme)

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