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Tweak says, "You always say Goodnight..."

likeyourwheels (likeyourwheels) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-07-19 23:47:00

Entry tags:

canton everett delaware iii, clint barton

WHO: Canton Everett Delaware III & Clint Barton
WHAT: It's not a date, but the mistletoe has other ideas.
WHEN: July 20th; Evening
WHERE: The Roadhouse
RATING: PG
STATUS: In Progress

Canton had to admit that he was more than a little encouraged. Clint seemed to be coping a lot better than he had been. Whether it was the arrival of Coulson, the rearrival of Agent Romanoff, or just the fact that he had finally allowed himself to get the feelings that he'd been holding back out, Canton couldn't say for sure, but the results were still relief enough. Certainly not a sign of a full recovery from what had happened to him. Canton didn't expect that for quite some time, if ever, but it was enough to soothe some of the worries that he had been harboring over the other man. Seeing him act a bit more like himself, without the seeming strain of trying to keep up the front of everything being fine, had allowed Canton to relax into the situation. The offer of drinks had really just been to get the pair of them out for a bit, to let them get the chance to actually enjoy themselves without it being official or heavily emotional, and Canton had just had to laugh when Clint had assumed it was a date.

He was kidding, of course, Canton was more than certain, but at the end of the day, Canton didn't want Barton walking away thinking that he was going to end up felt up the second that he'd passed his tolerance limit, whatever it was. It was just a drink, an evening out, a bit of fun, maybe a friendly game of darts that he was bound to embarrass himself horribly at. Probably more than horribly considering he was actually contemplating playing a game of accuracy with an expert marksman, but it would still be enjoyable at the end of it all.

It hadn't taken much more convincing to get Clint to agree, sans his friends though since they apparently 'needed some alone time' (another joke that Canton just had to laugh and shake his head at), and a handful of drinks in, Canton was grinning across the table at Clint, "So," Canton asked, glancing towards the window and nodded at the snow that was visible outside, "when do you think Santa and his elves are going to show up?" He asked, a hint of amusement on his features. "Because I wouldn't put it past this place."

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tobeunmade
2012-08-12 07:29 am UTC (link)

It took Clint a long moment to really come back to himself, still bowled over by the kiss and how good it had felt. Because it had been good. Really good. And that meant a lot coming from Clint, who didn't bother with things like kissing and touching and all those casual little displays of affection that people took for granted. Clint saw better from a distance, kept himself at a distance because of that, and clung to his objectivity like it was the only thing keeping him going. But that objectivity was dissolving under his feet where Canton was concerned, and that happened so rarely that Clint wasn't sure what to do with it. With Natasha, with the Avengers, even with Phil, it had happened slowly, slotting into place with time and effort. With Canton, it hit him suddenly and shockingly and he didn't even know how to process it.

This was dangerous, this feeling. Clint knew that. His whole focus was centered on Canton's hand in his, on the electric shock of the touch, and it was embarrassing how entirely the simple contact preoccupied him. Jesus Christ! Sex didn't even hit him like this, and his stomach was twisting itself in knots over some goddamn hand-holding. Like he was some sort of idiot schoolgirl with a crush. What the hell was wrong with him? He was half-tempted to jerk his hand from Canton's and run away, save for the fact that he loathed to give up the contact. And there was also the fact that, if he did do that, he'd look like an idiot or a crazy person or maybe both.

He bit his lip as he listened to Canton, not really thinking about the way the action called attention to just how bruised his mouth was from kissing, then ran his tongue lightly over the abused flesh in an unconscious action. There were things he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how to say them, and staring at Canton, he mostly just wanted to kiss him again, but he wasn't sure if that was allowed. He'd let himself get too close and he'd lost his distance and now he couldn't find where the lines were any more and it was confusing and intimidating and he just wanted things to be easy.

He'd never understood the stupid arbitrary lines that existed in relationships. What was wrong with wanting to press his mouth against his friend's and breathe him in and bite his way inside and just feel his skin under his hands and never let him go? Why did that have to change things? Because it wasn't so much that he was afraid of this desire to do unspeakable things to the man next to him. He was afraid of how it would inevitably change things. Because friendship was one thing, but opening himself up to anything else, anything more, was terrifying. Because one day Canton really would see the depths of how damaged he was and it would be too much, and if he let himself feel then he wasn't sure he could take the rejection later on. He'd never been good at letting go.

But there was a part of him that wanted, a part of him that was normally quiet and still. And he wondered if it would be so bad to listen to that. Steeling himself, picking at the pieces and putting himself back together into something resembling a functional person, he gave Canton an easy grin that was anything but. "We could do that again," he suggested, forcing the words to be casual. Not to show how much he wanted. "Get carried away. How about it?"

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likeyourwheels
2012-08-12 07:52 am UTC (link)

It was an easy laugh that passed Canton's lips before he'd even given much thought to Clint's words. "Careful, champ," Canton replied with a wicked grin. "You make too many offers like that, and I just might have to hold you to them. And then, who knows where you'll end up? Well, other than as obvious City Hall gossip fodder."

With a wink and a grin, it took Canton a moment to realize that Clint still hadn't dropped his hand. Huh. That was a little odd, but nothing too unusual to consider. They were both probably a little addled after getting called out for practically performing softcore porn against the side of a building. Canton definitely knew he was still getting his bearings, but Clint seemed more than aware to make jokes about the situation, so maybe he was still holding his hand for a reason. Either way, with someone who had taken so long to get used to being touched, to being all right with being touched, Canton didn't particularly want to pull away if Clint still needed the contact.

"You know, we never did get that next drink," Canton said after a moment with a smile and a shake of his head. Glancing back up at their path, he realized that they had somehow started heading towards the apartments, so he figured that the offer likely wouldn't seem as awkward and potentially date rapey as it might have had they been heading in any other direction. "I'm pretty sure I've got a bottle back at my place, if you want to wrap this up properly rather than just leaving the evening hanging in the air." He had promised a decent evening out, after all. The least he could do was try and make up for it being cut short by evil balls of mistletoe.

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tobeunmade
2012-08-12 08:19 am UTC (link)

Oh. Right. He'd misread. Or misunderstood. He'd let himself get too close and it had warped the image until he'd missed what was right in front of him. For all his flirting, Canton didn't want him. He was a friend, and that was fine. It was more than fine. But he was a friend and that was all he was and somewhere along the line he'd forgotten. He did that, sometimes. Misunderstood the way things between people worked. He misread things like boundaries and divisions and the way things added up, the way people added up. It wasn't Canton's fault that he'd let himself get confused. He hadn't meant to, but it had happened, and now he just had to salvage the situation.

The sharp spike of disappointment drove deep, but Clint was a covert operative and he was nothing if not very good at what he did. So he buried the hurt at the idea that his feelings could be so easily dismissed and forced a laugh. "Right," he said. "Wouldn't want that. They're vultures when it comes to gossip." He let go of Canton's hand, careful not to draw attention to the action or to make it seem like a response to what he had said. He didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable. After all, it wasn't like his friend had shut him out of his life. He'd just turned him down. He had every right to do that. Clint was the one who had read to much into things.

"It's getting late," he said, brushing off the offer of another drink. All he really wanted was to go back to his place and lick his wounds in peace. But he couldn't say that, so instead he just buried it all under words. If you said enough, he'd learned long ago, people didn't look too closely. "And if I drink now, I'll probably have a hangover in the morning. And Phil would magically know and frown me to death and then you'd have to make friends with someone who has standards. And then where would we be?" He gave a flippant grin, hoping it did enough to mask the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. "Anyway, I should go ahead and head on back to my place. We'll do drinks again soon though."

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likeyourwheels
2012-08-13 01:12 am UTC (link)

There was...something, something that Canton felt like he was missing. There wasn't anything direct either in Clint's words or behavior that pointed to something being off, but there was a feeling that Canton got at Clint pulled away that there was something that he'd missed, that had went right over his head and flew off to never be seen again. Canton looked sidelong as Clint for a moment before shaking off the feeling and offering him a grin in return as he reached up and gave Clint's shoulder a squeeze, "All right, champ. The last thing we want to do is make Coulson frown at you. I've no experience with it, but I can imagine that it's not really the most fun to see first thing in the morning," He said, leaving his hand on Clint's shoulder as his smile deepened. "And we can always try something other than drinks. I'm sure there are plenty of other activities not likely to potentially end with you feeling like I'm liquoring you up just to take advantage."

Following up the statement with a wink, Canton shoved Clint playfully before pivoting on his heel and then backed away from his friend, taking careful steps backwards but still towards the apartments as he addressed his friend, "You head on back to your place and get some rest. Hopefully we can avoid your untimely death, and I won't have to go looking for another friend. It's really exhausting trying to find someone that meets my standards."

And Canton was positive that even if he tried, there would be absolutely no finding anyone that came even close to Clint in the terms of, well, anything. Canton had always been rather selective about the people that he got close to, those that he considered to be worthy of his attention, and while there were plenty of people here that he respected, the list of individuals that he felt were actually worth putting the extra effort into to get to know beyond a passing level was still remarkably short. Somehow, Clint had managed to skyrocket to the top of it in such a short amount of time that Canton still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he wasn't complaining. He'd had friends before, sure, but there had almost always been some sort of caveat there to keep him from being fully and wholly himself. That wasn't the case with Clint, and he would probably never be able to say how thankful he really was for that.

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