cognitived | mental link;

[ dangerous, maybe, for someone to have such easy access to his mind. Or rather, it would be if it was anybody other than Sam. Clint trusts him, a bone deep knowledge that Sam is safe. In any case, they're melded now, the edges of minds too close to immediately pick apart.

They echo, fond and amused, affection easy and returned. Clint can't help the burst of amusement that escapes him, wouldn't want to anyway. It's a formless laugh, thrumming across the mental link. ]

( Of course they did. And you couldn't let them drink alone, obviously. )

[ Too easy, too close, too dangerous, oh, Sam knows. Was made all too aware of it for the few days that Clint's mind was a glaring absence, like pieces of his own had been muted and distant. But it is what it is, and looking back, Sam can't say he'd have done anything different. Clint knows him, and if the awareness of how deep that that goes could be a little alarming, it's worth it for being able to sleep a little easier.

Warmth spills over their connection, buzzed and content, curling around in a sensation like a playful shove. ]

( Gotta keep up my reputation, you know, weren't you the one hassling me about my charm? )

[ dangerous, yes, but like the flat of a blade. one slip, and it'll cut, sever, steal. one slip of a knife, the well of blood -- enemy, ally, self. the press of minds is dangerous, but somehow precious, too, now. warmth spills over, kindling in his bones, easy easy easy. without thought, clint eases, relaxes, savors. shoves back, just as playful, the faint impression of a toothy grin slipped beneath the eaves of sam's mind. ]

( Somebody's gotta. )

[ he needles, but fond, fond, shared contentment welling up beneath his breastbone. ]

( Can't have you gettin' rusty on us, Wilson. )

[ Everything that's ever been important to Sam has been dangerous; Clint is no exception. This thing between them is no exception, but that knowledge doesn't mean that he isn't comforted by this. Especially now, with the haze of alcohol muddying all of his thoughts. He relaxes when he feels Clint relax, smiles back just as wide, the rustle of a breeze sweeping through. ]

( Never gonna get rusty 'long as I got you to practice on, turtle dove. )

[ it's not a surprise, really. sam himself is dangerous, it follows he'd thrill in the danger too. heady, flitting, catching, now, with the muddling haze of alcohol slipping beneath thought. too much.

but they relax in turns, too much teeth and too much fondness. welcomed, now. clint huffs with laughter, warmed by the impression of a smile. ]

( Yeah? Bet you say that to all the guys. )

[ teasing, teasing. ]

[ Something only Clint really knows. Sam is aware of how the Nest - how people in general - perceive him, as something good and kind and soft. It seems only Clint knows how sharp his edges are, has seen him in battle or in prison or both. It's as Clint is often seen only as an assassin, cocky and carefree, his softness hidden, though buried under there is a good man, one of the best Sam's ever known. They keep different parts of themselves secret, though they both bury them in humor; perhaps that's why they work so well together.

The warmth of a chuckle trickles through, mental link humming with amusement. ]

( Only the ones with pretty blue eyes who like to show off their arms. You know I'm a sucker for a well-placed arrow. )

[ he is, though, he is. sam is good, is kind and soft and warm -- teasing words and easy friendship, the welling of understanding that lets him smooth jagged edges. clint has seen it time and again, with the team, with civilians, hell, with the nest. silk. but clint's also seen the sharp edge of steel hidden beneath that silk. seen the fire and brimstone and screaming fear as rhodes plummeted from the sky. saw the rage and disgust with ross, when wanda was drugged, gagged, insensate. felt the bruising force of his blows on the nights they couldn't sleep, when the raft clung too deeply.

they've both hidden for far too long, but clint's never been comfortable with being vulnerable, without control. he simply assumes the same is there for sam. so they bluster with humor, cheap jokes and sharp grins, easy, because it's real. ]

( A well placed arrow, huh? )

[ he all but leers, the impression of a grin curling wider. ]

[ He is, he's come far enough that he doesn't have doubt that he's a good man. Or at least, not a lot of doubt, not like so many others do. Even Clint, through everything, enough that Sam can't help but try to he there to smooth out some of Clint’s edges. Knows it's impossible, goes for it anyway - if nothing else, Sam can make sure he's always a safe place for Clint to land.

Sam is deceptively good at being vulnerable, but it's always only been under circumstances he can control. Circumstances nothing like the Nest, fighting to keep the Raft secret from everyone, to hold back pieces of himself that make him him.

But there's this, at least. There's Clint, and maybe the connection between them has gone past what either of them can control, but it started because they chose it. The last few vestiges of control that they both can cling to. ]

( Why you gotta do that, huh, now I'm required to tell you that you sent a well placed arrow right to my heart. )

[ He'd like to blame that on him being drunk, but nah, he's just that cheesy anyway. ]

[ clint's doubted for as long as he can remember, back before the avengers, before laura and the kids, before the army and the circus. maybe before the car accident that left him alone alone alone. it's familiarly worn, now. the edges weathered, less jagged but no less sharp for it.

sam helps; but that's familiar too. he's had that edge of healing long before they arrived here.

but for now, there's nothing but a quiet, fond, burst of amusement. liquid gold, lapping at the edges where their minds meld. sam offers a safe place, goes above and beyond in a way clint's long since accepted. long nights in the raft's sterile light, fury crackling beneath the surface, cold seeping into flesh and blood and bone. gilds, now, laughter lit in the marrow of his bone, bubbling over. ]

( Cheesy. ) [ he teases. ] ( No wonder Rogers followed you 'round like a puppy, before. )

Edited (UGH HTML....) 2017-02-26 04:40 (UTC)

[ One day, maybe, enough time will have passed, Sam will have been at his side long enough that the doubt will fade more. Until it's a ghost brought back when something strikes to close to it instead of one that haunts Clint in the background of every day, until Clint is able to believe it when Sam tells him that he is one of the best men he knows. There are things about the way that Sam feels that neither of them acknowledge, that may never be acknowledged - not hidden, not quite, not when it's all but impossible to hide things from each other for any length of time, just buried - but this isn't one of them.

There's a comfort in relaxing like this, settled safely in the familiarity of Clint's, the buzz of alcohol flowing between them as though they were both drinking. Maybe Sam'll bring some back for him, he thinks, it's not the wine he'd collected back on Concordia and had to leave behind when they escaped, but it's not bad. ]

( Can't help that I've got game. Or are you trying to say that only guys from the 40s appreciate me? )

[ it's inevitable, really. maybe back home clint would resist more, burying everything deep down. but sam hadn't been this close, then. hadn't spent months with their minds all but stitched together. now, well, now he knows that sam won't let him linger and dwell and sabotage himself like this. eventually, eventually, but not now. not yet.

he could head down, really. it's not far, and the call of booze and sam and comfort is almost too much to resist. but it's easier staying here, something comforting in the shared buzz spilling between them. effervescent and gleaming, caught there behind his teeth. can't help the way he laughs. ]

( Aw, shucks, didn't mean ta hurt your feelings. )

[ he teases back, a stolen hint of brooklyn coloring his mental voice. teasing like steve sometimes did after nat or stark made too many old man jokes. a bittersweet memory, but fond. colored with more than a little pure amusement. ]

( I mean, you've even got Barnes eating out of your hand, must be something calling them wholesome 40s boys. )

[ Not yet, not yet. The fact that Clint knows that Sam won't let him dwell, has accepted that one day there's the possibility it'll happen - it's more than they'd had before, and Sam will take it.

Clint's laughter spills over him like a balm, and he soaks it up through the haze of alcohol. ]

( How you gonna make it better, huh? )

[ There's laughter there in return, deep and low, bubbling across the mental link so strong that it's clear he's doing that out loud, too. Sam's too drunk to think about any of that too closely, just shared memories and teasing banter - and maybe having a little laugh at Bucky's expense.

Just because Sam's admitted that he might like the guy doesn't mean he's not more than willing to do that. ]

( It's the ass, not even gonna pretend. )

[ sam's corrupted him, clearly. what with his acceptance and support and bad jokes. still, it feels good, the cycle of laughter spilling over. easy, even as clint grins and settles deeper in the melding of their minds.

sam's drunk, yeah, and clint can't help but sink into it. Even as they tease and tease and tease. There's another burst of laughter, just as strong as sam's, helpless. ]

( Oh, definitely. Not letting that Buzzfeed ranking go anytime soon, huh? )

[ not that it wasn't deserved, though. ]

[ That's a corruption that Sam's happy to take credit for - except the bad jokes. Sam knows very well that Clint had those way before they were in each other's heads.

After that mission - their first as part of the Nest - Sam had needed this. They both did, he thinks, needed the opportunity to blow off a little steam, to joke and tease and be themselves. To laugh like this, because Sam can't stop. ]

( You mean all my hard work finally paying off? Oh hell no. 'Sides, I know you taped that segment that E! did lamenting any of your costume changes that included sleeves. )

[ Not that Sam didn't agree, but still. ]

[ excuse you, sir, his jokes are excellent. totally.

but more importantly, clint can feel the way sam's settling, the way tension is slipping from him the longer they laugh and tease. almost like being back at the avengers' base, in between training and catching up, the moments when clint left the farm and domesticity behind. familiar. ]

( Sleeveless is so last season, honestly Sam. )

[ he teases, though really -- sam's not wrong. ]

[ Uh-huh. His jokes are just as great as Sam's.

It's only the first day, and the station still creeps Sam out - it's the lights that get to him more than anything, always on even if they're dimmed, and he knows if he's not careful it's gonna remind him too much of the Raft - but that's not for now. It might not actually be the Avenger's base, but like this, with Clint... it's close, it's more than good enough. ]

( Nothing is last season if it means showing off those arms. Maybe I'm due for a costume update. )

[ w o w

clint gets it, believe him. the station is alien, foreign, but there's that too-sterile too-cold feeling that edges up beneath his skin. the lights and the hallways and the silence. just different enough to avoid constant comparison, just similar enough to settle, waiting, at the edges. ]

( I dunno, you think you can compete? )

[ u may have a better ass but these arms got u beat bruh ]

[ hey now that was a compliment

That's another reason why it's easier to relax like this, drunk enough that the similarity doesn't seem to lurk quite as sharply, settled in with someone who understands that it's still there. ]

( Don't gotta if you keep covering yours up. I'm the consolation prize. )

[ Clint's arms are a work of art, man. ]

[ uh huh s u r e

It should be strange, maybe, that they're as close now as they are. But it isn't. Not after the raft. Easier to just -- be this. To drink and joke and pretend like they aren't more than half in each other's minds at all times. They understand each other, they chose each other. It's alright. ]

( Don't be so hard on yourself, second place maybe. )

[ Sam happens to think his sense of humor is awesome okay he's very witty.

It had been strange, once. When they first got here, tripping into each other's heads and trying to sort out everything that came with being a new member of the Nest. (As though they weren't still new members compared to those like Prince and Cathaway, compared even to some of the others closer to them.) But they'd chosen each other before they ever got here, and it settles easily that it's continued. ]

( Gotta keep my ego in check somehow, man, it ain't just my ass that I'm working from behind. )

[ His back may be scarred from early work with the wings, but damn if he doesn't know that working with them has made its build top notch. ]

[ well he's something alright.

it still feels new, sometimes. muddling through minds, tripping over thoughts and feelings not their own. stranger still to be the first of their broods, to feel broodmates and nestmates slipping away. mourning teammates past and present. but -- but they chose each other, and they've stayed. past wakanda, past the weeks on concordia, still. still. ]

( Good luck. ) [ he laughs, lighthearted. ] ( Might as well aim to be all the months on the calendar this time. )

[ That better be a good something.

The oldest of their broods, among the oldest here - save for those like Bucky and the Darkling for whom time means different things - trying to figure things out and guide others at the same time, to hold onto themselves while others grow and fall. It's no wonder they've chosen someone they trust to have at their back through it all. ]

( You trying to tell me my head's too big? ) [ But he's laughing, too, easy and free. ] ( Nah, not all of them. It'd get lonely being on all by myself on all those pages. Maybe a joint effort. ) [ Another laugh, bubbling over the link. ] ( Maybe get one going here, we need a way to keep track of time. )

[ well.

that still trips him up, sometimes. not as much, any more. clint's no stranger to training rookies, to helping out the newest avengers, of course. but this is different, strange. watching kids figure themselves out, trying to hold their minds in the gleaming gossamer nets of their shields, and seeing them fall between breaths. sometimes he wonders just how many comatose people there are in the wing, how many more existed before the current sweep.

easier to try not to dwell. to trust sam at his back and the brood at his side. ]

( I'm just sayin, Nat'd be sad she missed it. ) [ the impression of a grin, all teeth. ] ( You just want to do pin ups, man don't lie. )

[ It trips Sam up, too. He's used to guiding others through battling their own minds, just - on a less literal scale. It's a learning curve for both of them, and Sam wonders the same. Wonders who of them will remain six months from now, a year, ten years - fifty, a hundred.

Something they'll have to think more about, one day, but not now. Now they can just enjoy this. ]

( Twelve months of the bird Avengers? Course she would. ) [ There's a grin of his own, the press of a tongue through flashed teeth. ] ( Can you blame me? )

[ It's kind of funny, that they're the ones in this position. Not entirely surprising, but still. Minds and mettle, flesh and blood and bone and gristle; how long can they last like this? ( Too long, some part of him whispers. )

He's perfectly fine with putting it aside for Future-Clint to deal with, really. ]

( She'd probably put up five in Steve's room. )

[ You know she would, too. There's a burst of laughter, the peal of a bell. ]

PRACTICAL if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it.	RESILIENT do you know what it's like to be unmade?
SKILLED if i miss, it means im just another dude with a bow.	DETERMINED this is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.

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