Prompt Bingo, player me
Feb. 19th, 2017 06:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
harcourt| Hostile climate | Fuck or die | Corporal punishment | Crossover/ Fusion | Exposure |
| Zombie apocalypse | Wing!fic | Prison AU | Different historical period | Vampires |
| Fantasy creature | Oral sex | WILD CARD | Trapped | Isolation |
| Friends with benefits | Torture | Tentacles | A/B/O | Illness |
| Bondage | Gunshot wound | Organised crime | On the run (2) |
D/s |
I'm still plugging away at longfic bingo, even though the comm seems dead, but you guys, longfic takes so long. But I like their prompt list, and I like kinkmeme style prompts, so I made myself a bingo card, and if anyone is up for this game:
You prompt/request according to a bingo box, I write a prompt fic style fic. I'll x-post to tumblr, but anon is on here. Wild card is free-for-prompter, go nuts.
Filled:
A/B/O:
Clint/Logan, On the Run
D/s:
Bucky/Clint
Fantasy Creature:
Bucky & Clint
Fuck or Die:
Clint/Tony
Gunshot Wound:
Clint & Steve
On the Run:
Clint/Tony
Clint/Logan, A/B/O
Torture:
Clint/Steve
Vampires:
Clint/Steve
Wing!fic:
Bruce & Clint
gunshot wound?
Date: 2017-02-20 03:31 am (UTC)Re: gunshot wound? - Clint & Steve - Gen
Date: 2017-02-20 05:58 pm (UTC)"I know," he said, and got a flicker of a grin for the sound of approval in his voice. He held his hand hovering over Clint, then slowly lowered it to touch Clint's own, where his fingers were splayed open over his stomach, off to one side, liquid welling up around them, dark against Clint's uniform and smudging his skin with red. There was a splatter of it on the ground under him and across the wall. A spray of fine droplets over his face. Steve licked his lip and swallowed, then managed to make himself ask, "Let me see?" and closed his grip around Clint's wrist, giving it a little pull. Just a hint so Clint would know what he wanted, in case the words weren't quite getting through. Steve had seen injury like this before. Knew that listening was likely to be difficult and comprehension hazy, through the adrenaline and the pain and the shock.
Clint looked numb though. Mouth a stubborn frown, like he was still more focused on Steve's judgement and disapproval than the hole in his side, and he seemed almost confused at Steve's preoccupation with it, letting his hand be pulled away and allowing Steve to tug at his vest, trying to get it off, or at least out of the way. With the blood coming up through the thick, reinforced fabric, he couldn't tell how bad the wound was, or where exactly Clint had been struck. If the bullet was likely to have hit vital organs or not. He needed Bruce. Backup of some kind. "Hang on, Clint."
"Fucking laser guy," Clint said, sounding more irritated than anything. His gaze flicked up to meet Steve's, hot with indignation. "Those fuckers sting."
Instant cautery, though, Steve didn't remind him, still struggling with Clint's suit, until frustration and the continuous well of blood prompted him to just dig his fingers into the rip in the fabric and pull. It gave way with a sharp sound and a breathy gasp from Clint, followed by a moan, quickly bitten off, then several seconds of harsh panting, before Clint was silent again, looking up at him with an offended look on his face.
"Sorry. I've gotta see what this looks like."
"I need a suit like Tony's huh?" Clint grinned, and gestured with an index finger extended, indicating something coming at him then bouncing away. "Fwping." Steve couldn't tell if that was a weak attempt at his regular humor, or if Clint was giddy with blood loss. He looked pale, and his skin was cool when Steve touched his face, inadvertently leaving streaks of red on Clint's brow and cheek. A thumbprint along his jaw.
"Hawkeye's down," Steve told his comms, in case help wasn't already on the way, eyes fixed on Clint's side. On the tear in the flesh, and the blood that welled out from it, pumping in time to Clint's heart. "He's awake and talking, but it's not looking good."
"Well excuse me for not looking good," Clint snipped, then shut up and took a series of sharp breaths when Steve put his palm against the wound and pressed, hoping to slow the bleeding. "We can't--can't all. Fuck, Steve."
"Sorry. Sorry, Clint. I know."
Clint's foot kicked a little, like he was looking for purchase, heel sliding, but that was all the struggle he gave. His hands stayed clear of Steve's, not trying to push them away. His head tilted back, though. Back arching a little against the pain.
"Easy, Hawkeye."
Re: gunshot wound? - Clint & Steve - Gen
Date: 2017-02-20 05:59 pm (UTC)"S'okay," Clint said, when he had his breath back. "Gotta do what you gotta do." He mumbled something after, then let a hand drop to his side. Steve didn't look. Didn't want to see the horrible snap-shot of Clint's fingers smearing through his own blood. He could feel the damp of it when Clint found his leg and clung on, pulling at the fabric of his uniform. "Laser guy?"
"Tony got him."
"Oh, nice. I had him in my crosshairs, you know?"
"I know."
Clint had. Tony should have gone for the gun, but like Clint, had rated the danger and opted to prioritize the greater potential damage.
"A fucking handgun," Clint complained, moving his free hand to hold it in front of his face. The ruined handguard, blood crusting around his nails. "Can't fucking believe this."
It reminded Steve of a story Bucky had told him. Some guy in the war, killed with what may as well have been a pocket knife, at the very tail end of some skirmish, when everyone should have been well in the clear. The threat coming unexpected and from a laughable direction.
"Gotta get to our extraction," Clint said suddenly, like it had just occurred to him. "Are we late?"
Steve swallowed and kept his hand on Clint's side. Kept the pressure as steady as he could. "No, we're not late."
"You don't want to be stuck here with me," Clint went on, but the hand holding on to Steve didn't let go. He was definitely looking pale now and Steve could feel him shivering, going into shock.
"ETA?" he demanded over the comms. "We need a medic."
Clint gave him a little push. "Go, Steve."
"I'm not going anywhere. We're fine."
"Just help me up." He made a move to do it himself, pushing ineffectually against the ground before falling back, head hitting the wall with a hollow thunk, then laughed. A breathless, pained sound that scared Steve. He didn't sound like he was all there anymore. Like he was hurt so bad his body couldn't process it and left his mind floating. Steve had seen that before, too.
"Help," Steve said, into the comm. It sounded small and desperate, so he added, "Hawkeye's down. Where's my medic?" in a more demanding tone.
"I can walk," Clint insisted, even though there was no place they needed to walk to. No extraction team they needed to meet. The dull thump of someone setting down behind Steve was unlikely to be useful help, but at least it meant he wasn't alone anymore with a half-delirious Clint Barton.
"Oh, geez," Tony murmured. "What a mess."
Clint gave him a testy look. "I'll mop up."
"Hey. Not my tower, not my problem. Bleed on whatever you like." Then he turned to Steve. "Sounds like he's still with us."
"He's worried about making it to our extraction point."
That made Tony pause. Then he asked, "Does he know we aren't SHIELD?"
"Avengers." Clint said, and smirked. It looked ghoulish with the blood spattered and streaked on his face. "I'm an Avenger."
"Yeah. You made it to the major leagues, Barton. Big boy ball." Tony's usual bullshit, but delivered gently. When Steve looked up, Tony's face was dark with concern, looking back with a scared, questioning expression.
"He'll be okay." It came out more certain than Steve felt. Clint's chest and stomach were rising and falling in too-quick spasms, and his skin was slippery under Steve's hands. His eyes bright in a way that reminded Steve of fever.
"Heard you got my laser guy," Clint slurred.
"Yep. Sorry I didn't get the other guy first."
"Gotta--" Clint made a wheezing sound, and his foot made that searching, sliding move again. "Gotta learn to coordinate, Stark."
"I know, I know. Civilian mistake. I'm sorry. From now on it's cavalries and pincher maneuvers, okay? And when we get home you can teach me all your secret agent hand signals. And naval flags. You guys do naval flags on your flying ship?"
Clint laughed, then winced and spasmed under Steve's hands, like he was trying to curl in on himself. His head rolled against the wall, his eyes turning up in his head, showing white, before he relaxed with a long whine. He fixed Tony with an accusing stare.
Re: gunshot wound? - Clint & Steve - Gen
Date: 2017-02-20 06:03 pm (UTC)"Stay with me," Steve told Clint, when he made a move like he wanted to go after Tony. "Help's coming."
"M'fine."
"Yeah."
Clint let his eyes slide closed. Then opened them again, looking directly at him, "Steve? You gotta go."
"I don't. We're fine. Just hang on."
Clint's fingers unhooked from Steve's pant leg. Slowly, like he had to think about loosening each joint, one at a time, and then he gave Steve a push. Just a weak shove at his knee, before his hand slid away, to fall at his side. "Go."
"I got gun guy after," Tony said, coming back. "So we're good. No one has to go anywhere. Except you, Barton. You look like you're sick of hanging around this place."
"You got gun guy," Clint echoed, and huffed, then looked Steve and made the bouncing-off gesture again, clumsier this time. Less coordinated.
Tony frowned at it. "What's that? 'Heart to heart'? You and Steve have something you want to share with the class?"
Clint's eyes rolled again, and this time he didn't answer Tony, going slack under Steve's hands.
"Barton?" Tony asked, voice rising. "Steve? Is he--?"
"I don't know. Call it in again."
I called it. They're coming. They can't get through a Hulk-smash. There's a quinjet on the way." He looked around, then added. "A little bitty hovering one, so it'll have room to set down."
"How long, Tony?"
"You want me to fly him in? Cut the trip shorter?"
Steve looked down pointedly at his hands, then back up at Tony.
"Right. Keeping his insides in," Tony said, then winced. "That came out wrong."
Steve ignored it. "He'll get help faster if we wait. The medics," he trailed off.
"Yeah, okay." Tony paced away a few steps and then back. Gestured helplessly. "I should have hit gun guy first. Of course Clint was going to take out the laser canon, even if some asshole was aiming a peashooter at him. Oh god, especially if there was a peashooter aimed at him. Fuck. I just--"
"Clint had the same thought."
"I know. I mean, obviously I know."
"Don't do this now, Tony."
"Right. Okay, yeah. Raincheck, then? You think you'll be ready for a freakout at around seven? Seven thirty? Dress nice."
Steve gave him a second to pull it together and stop talking, then said, "Ask how far out they are," to give him something to do while Steve tried to bring Clint around, saying his name over and over, interspersed with a sterner 'Hawkeye', until Clint groaned and blinked at him.
"Hey there. You missed Tony admitting he made a bad call," Steve told him, voice low. "Don't go to sleep again."
Clint's mouth moved like he was trying to say something, but then he just swallowed and nodded his head.
"Can you take my hand?"
He got a dazed blink in response, and then Clint looked down at himself and at Steve's hands pressing into him. "That really hurts," he said, sounding surprised like he'd only just noticed.
"I know. I want you to hold on. Grab my arm."
Clint did it, but asked, "Why?" voice a rasp. His fingers were sticky, pulling at Steve's sleeve when Clint adjusted his grip.
"So I know you're awake. Don't let go."
"Incoming," Tony called. "They just flew over Natasha. We should hear them in about half a minute. I'll escort them in. Make sure they find you." It wasn't likely that the med team would miss them, but Steve suspected Tony couldn't stand around any longer being useless and watching Clint fade in and out.
"Okay. Bring them in, Stark."
Clint shifted at the sound of Tony's repulsors, and his fingers dug into Steve's wrist. "Happening?" he slurred, eyes searching around for threat, but in a drunk way Steve didn't want to think about.
"Extraction."
"Good," Clint said, and let his hand fall away from Steve's wrist. "I've been trying to get you out of here."
----------------
A/N: Not sure I go this one right. Hope it's OK!
Re: gunshot wound? - Clint & Steve - Gen
Date: 2017-02-20 06:26 pm (UTC)Re: gunshot wound? - Clint & Steve - Gen
Date: 2017-02-20 07:19 pm (UTC)