right here underneath my wing

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Who| Sam Wilson and Clint Barton
What| 3am wake up call
Where| Sam's room
When| After the rebellion plot, before the arena
Warnings/Notes| mentions of PTSD, nightmares, and death; will update as needed


It makes sense, for why Clint's sleeping over. They've been together a lot of nights anyway, after adopting Kate, so they can both spend as much time with her as she needs. She's at the stage where she's starting not to be a baby anymore, but she stills needs a hell of a lot of attention - they're gonna have to start teaching her how to hunt, soon. Sam's already got a few plans for that.

If he makes this all about Kate, then he doesn't have to think about any other reason for why Clint might be here. Any reasons involving Steve not being here, or the fact that Sam is only just barely holding himself together these days, or that Clint isn't exactly doing great either, or anything involving the entire thing that'd happened the night they found Kate.

Yeah, he knows very well that all this avoiding is going to come back and bite him. He just can't handle not avoiding right now; it's taking all of his energy just to keep himself from isolating the way he had after Riley'd died. One thing at a time, that's all he can do.

So for tonight, he just grins at Clint, makes a quip about how Clint better not be a blanket hog, and rolls into bed. It's hit or miss on whether or not he'll actually get any sleep, but he figures Clint knows a thing or two about nightmares that keep you awake at night, and won't get freaked out about it. But fortunately, tonight seems to be a good night. Tonight there's no fire, no explosions or burned flesh, there's just warmth and the steady heartbeat of someone close by.

And then there's a loud, ear-splitting screech, and suddenly Sam's wide awake, hand reaching automatically under his pillow at the same time as he instinctively pulls the person he's half wrapped around in closer to him.

Comments

[cognitived]

Kate's been vital, these last few months. She found them in the aftermath of Clint's fracturing, when the delicate stitching in his psyche Sam had placed was tender and tenuous. When he was moments from shaking apart all over again. And later still, immediately after he was injured, when someone finding out that he could barely walk would meant Clint could get dragged away. She'd been their cover, she continues to do so. Because Steve's still missing, and Sam's still more mess than not.

So yeah, Clint spends a lot of time with Sam. Kate needs a lot of attention, and having someone to focus on? Someone who relies on you for their survival? Well, Clint knows first hand how that can make a world of difference.

It's easy though, to pile into bed and trade jokes about blanket stealing. To curl up on their sides and know that even if one or the other has a nightmare, then, well, it's not like they're going to panic. Still, it's a good night, one that draws him down into largely dreamless sleep, a voice giggling in the shell of his ears, tiny hands curled around his.

Right up until a screech cuts through the air, and Clint snaps awake. Without thinking, he's moving, one hand reaching under his pillow for a weapon that isn't there. A hand tugs at him, but Clint's already going, pressing the person wrapped around him into the mattress, covering their body with his own like a shield. It's quiet though, and there's nobody in the room with them. Clint blinks confusedly down at Sam, mouth parted in question, when there's another screech. He jolts, before groaning, head dropping.

"Kate, no." Only, he laughs after a second, a tiny little huffed sound of amusement. "Well, I guess she picked a great time to start."

[sizeofyourbaggage]

It’s odd having someone next to him whose reaction is to cover him. He says like it’s not just odd in general having someone next to him, like the last guy he’d slept next to wouldn’t have had the same reaction if Sam’s reflexes weren’t usually quicker.

But it’s a relief when his hand curls around nothing under the pillow - his gun’s not there, where the hell is his weapon - because at least it means someone is probably armed in this situation.

Except his brain catches up with him pretty quickly when he looks up at Clint, the same confusion on his face that’s probably on Sam’s own - they can’t be in the arena, the bed’s too soft, so neither of them have weapons and there should be no threat, what the shit - and then the screech sounds again.

Sam groans, burying his face in Clint’s neck. “It is three in the morning Kate.” Or around that time, Sam hadn’t exactly checked his clock when they were both rolling around hunting for weapons that weren’t there.

Although thinking of that, Sam’s mind immediately goes to Clint’s injured leg. He takes advantage of the fact that Clint’s still on top of him to check it, one hand reaching down to gently smooth over Clint’s thigh and knee, making sure nothing’s out of place.

[cognitived]

Clint can't exactly say he's used to it either. He's curled up with Natasha before, as cover, as comfort, but the both of them are lightning quick, knowing how to move together effortlessly. And sometimes, well, sometimes there was a smaller body curled in his arms after a nightmare, one he must protect at all cost. So yeah, Clint's pretty much used to being a shield, reflexes quicker than you'd think for someone who was deeply asleep.

He doesn't shift as Sam's hand strokes over the line of thigh and knee, knowing immediately what he's doing. Nothing feels out of place, nothing hurts more than usual. But there is a dull ache that comes from using a wounded body part anyway. So Clint doesn't do much more than quirk a smile, crooked and sleepy.

"Gettin' handsy there, Wilson." He murmurs, teasingly, even as he noses at Sam's neck. If Sam wants to check on his leg that's fine, but Clint will do his level best to make sure anybody watching thinks there's nothing more than some sleepy necking going on.

In the other room, Kate screeches again, clearly just building herself up, and Clint groans. He sits up in Sam's lap, in what is apparently becoming a habit, and pushes aside covers as he makes to get up. He probably shouldn't, what with his knee still healing, but still.

"I got this."

[sizeofyourbaggage]

The rest of the tension eases out of him with the fading adrenaline when he’s sure that Clint’s injury hadn’t gotten worse, that it’s still healing as well as it can when they have to hide it.

“Gonna get more than that,” Sam mutters back, half threat and half smiling. He knows why Clint’d said that and he’ll play along, but he can’t resist adding in a little bit of crankiness for going with that method of a cover, even if it’s the easiest one.

As if the Capitol wasn’t already making enough of a mess out of his supposed love life. Then again, it seems to be entertaining enough for them to keep bringing him back, so he guesses he shouldn’t complain too much. Even if sometimes it makes it a little harder to laugh off, when it reminds him that there’s maybe a little kernel of truth to the trainwreck he suspects he might be on the path to.

But there’s nothing he can do about that, and it’s a lot better to just keep shoving it aside than trying to dwell. Especially when Kate insists on continuing to shriek and interrupt their beauty sleep.

“Doesn’t she know it takes more than a few hours to look this good?” Sam grumbles, followed by a wordless noise of complaint when Clint makes to get up, hands settling on Clint’s hips and holding on.

He doesn’t want Clint walking on his leg more than he has to, but he can’t say that - so he has to settle for doing what Clint just did, and make it seem like he just wants Clint to stay in bed with him.

“Maybe she’ll stop on her own.”

[cognitived]

He deserves that, he knows. Clint's definitely pushing his luck, and he's sorry about it -- Sam deserves far more, they've already had this talk, and they don't need to rehash it. Especially when their words are not simply for their own ears. So he lets faint apology gleam in the blue of his gaze, brief, before laughing off Sam's commentary.

Sam's gotten a whole lot of mess when it comes to the Capitol view of his love life -- Clint isn't so sure of what's fiction, or what's got a kernel of truth there. But he's not surprised. He's got his own mess of a love life to contend with, though most of it is tied up in Sam, in Natasha though she's where he cannot follow. Clint's still not used to this constant scrutiny, the fame, the gossip. He'd thought SHIELD gossip was bad, this is so much worse on so many levels.

Better instead to focus on the hear and now, with Sam warm underneath him and Kate shrieking in the next room over. Clint's readying to leave when Sam's hands grab at his hips, hold him still. He turns a curious look Sam's way, gaze half-lidded.

"Maybe." He hums, mouth quirking with crooked smile, "But if your district-mates complain it ain't on my head."

That said, Clint goes easily, slipping back onto his side seamlessly. It's an attempt to simply get weight of his knee, and Sam surely gets that. He's pretty sure nobody else does, given he follows up by slotting right against Sam, legs tangling with his, face turned into the crook of his neck.