Prompt Bingo, player me

[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

Comments

Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[(Anonymous)]

Clint is a vampire, which is how/why he's still amazingly alive with all the stunts he pulls (throwing himself off buildings to make the shot, etc.). The Avengers all know and really it just means he fits in that much better with the rest of the them and their powers/longevity. They take his immortality for granted, and kind of forget that vampires still have that one, great, weakness (What? I have no idea - go wild!) Baddie somehow knows about Clint and targets his weakness and the others are all stunned when he goes down...

Re: Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[harcourt]

"Clint's down? What do you mean Clint is down?" Tony demanded. "Or maybe, what do you mean Clint is down? I thought he was already dead?"

"I'm not already dead, you asshole," Clint grumbled, crackly in Steve's ear. He sounded strained, not reappearing from the stack of boxes he had crashed into. Steve could see one foot and part of his leg, sticking up out of squashed cardboard. It jerked, crunching the box a little further. "Also, ow."

Clint didn't seem to be in danger of anything falling on him, with shelves already knocked over all around him like toppled dominos, but it did mean Steve had to carefully pick his way over shards of equipment and burst packaging as well as climb over oversize warehouse shelving. "Hang on. SHIELD's closing the perimeter. Medical will be here soon."

"You think Medical's upped their vampire hunter game since last we checked?" Tony asked, starting to set down, then changing his mind and coming to a hover instead, watching while Steve climbed and slid by turns over the ruin of the floor, books and bicycle parts and blenders poking up out of the mess. "Because I was under the impression that Barton was supposed to be everything-proof?"

Steve let him talk, not wanting to topple onto Clint as he climbed over a fallen shelf, then a box, and was finally at Clint's side, watching thin wisps of smoke rising out of him. "Give me a report, Clint."

"Did I already say 'ow'?" Clint asked. "Because ow. Ow ow ow."

"Is he on fire?" Tony asked, landing carefully in a slightly clearer spot, boxes and objects crunching under his feet.

Clint's chest hitched. "No. Just--" He reached across his body, pulling weakly at his clothes. "Just get my gear off."

"I believe that's your department, Cap?"

Steve didn't laugh, worried what they'd find, but when he'd managed to pull Clint's armored vest off, the wounds were all tidy. Small, bloodless punctures, with thin wisps of vapor rising from them, quickly dissipating like steam.

Tony made a low sound, then said, "Well, shit," as Steve reached to touch the flesh around one of the injuries, to find the skin cool and dry, Clint's muscles twitching slightly under his hand.

"His vest didn't look burned," Steve said, as much for the comms and Medical's benefit as for Tony's.

Clint blinked. Licked his lip. Made a long whining sound when Steve tried to move him to look for further injury. His face was pale, more than usual and considering he'd fed that morning, but he seemed lucid. "It's not the heat," he said, and paused to swallow and try to lift his head, then let it fall back again. "It's silver."

"Isn't that for werewolves?"

Clint tried to lift his head again, then just glared at the ceiling. "What do you want it to be, Tony? Garlic cloves?"

"Tiny crucifixes. Maybe a holy water sprits bottle, I don't know. A heartfelt blessing, possibly. God, I hate magic."

"Could you," Clint started, hesitated, then gestured to indicate his knife, waving his hand towards his boot, where he kept it tucked. "Do you think you could dig a few of 'em out?"

"I hate magic," Tony repeated, but went for the knife, fumbling a little with his hands in the suit gauntlets, Clint limply allowing himself to be manhandled until Tony decided he wasn't getting anywhere, that Clint wasn't in immediate danger, and he might as well take the time to get Clint's boot off so he could free the knife strap more easily.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, when Tony had finished and was carefully setting his leg back down. "Magic sucks."

"I'm going to let Steve do the honors," Tony said, handing the knife over, sheath and strap and all. "I hate medical procedures, too."

Steve took it, then hesitated, rolling the whole thing up into a tidy bundle in his hand, that he could grip tight in his fist, until the leather squeaked

"It's not going to kill me," Clint said, without picking his head up. He swallowed, and Steve saw his throat jump. "But it fucking burns, so I'd really appreciate if one of you would just--"

"Play doctor?" Tony offered, moving to Clint's side and lowering himself back into a crouch, to poke his fingers along Clint's ribs, examining the damage again. "You sure there's nothing important in there?"

Re: Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[harcourt]

Clint took a breath and let it out. A pained heave that meant the situation was a little more urgent than Clint was letting on. "Just if you get to any stringy bits, don't cut through them."

"Okay. You hear that, Cap? Watch the stringy bits."

Steve had dealt with bullet wounds before, but even though these were far less messy, the procedure was strangely gruesome. Like dealing with meat rather than living flesh. The whole thing was too clean, no blood spilling down Clint's sides and over Steve's hands, or pooling under his knees as he got down for a closer look. His hand brushed over Clint's chest in a soothing gesture, settling briefly over his ribs, where there was never enough of a pulse to feel even though Clint's medical records assured him that there was one, or at least the electrical fluctuations of one.

"Arm first," Clint told him, still not moving very much. The silver must have been doing a number on his system. Steve was pretty sure he'd never seen mention of the hazard in Clint's file, which meant either SHIELD had been keeping secrets and holding Clint to them, or Clint had been keeping secrets all on his own, from all of them.

Steve filed the thought away for later, and pulled the knife, dropping its sheath and strap to the ground by his leg, and then taking a few moments to figure out how to best grip the blade for accuracy, considering its size and that it was balanced for throwing and stabbing and not delicate, close-up work.

"Can't hurt me too much," Clint said, when Steve settled on a dubious overhand, holding the back of the blade in an awkward grip, to get his fingers closer to the tip and control the movement of the blade as much as possible. "I'll heal."

"Okay. Keep breathing."

Clint did, eerily calm while Steve worked, his face turned away and towards Tony. It meant Steve couldn't see his expressions, but his body stayed relaxed even when Steve had to go digging a bit, and finally drew blood. Thin tendrils of it that wrapped around the extracted bullet to drip off its end. Steve had a little pile of damp silver by the time he was done, leaving the too-deep or awkwardly placed remainders for a proper surgeon, and Clint's skin was still only just smudged with red, where the brush of Steve's hand had made streaks.

"Can you move?" he asked Clint, setting the knife aside to turn Clint's face back towards him. "Clint?"

Clint's eyelids flickered, stilled, then flickered again before his eyes finally blinked open, and then it took another second for him to focus. Steve wasn't sure if he'd passed out or if it was a result of how little blood he had in him. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

"You say that like I can just run out for a pizza," Clint slurred. His head rolled a little when Steve let him go, but he started testing his movement after, gingerly moving each joint before making an attempt to sit up. Steve kept him down with a hand on his chest. Too easy, and met with too little protest, Clint just accepting the restraint and falling back against the stack of boxes.

"This morning?"

Clint grinned. It looked hazy. "Nah. It was with you. On the roof."

"That was two days ago."

"S'fine. Stuff SHIELD has on ice tastes like crap."

"Well," Tony said. "This is taking a turn."

Clint looked over at him, smiled dopily, then let his eyes shut again. "Didn't think there was gonna be silver bullets."

"Yeah. Who’d’ve thunk, right? We're going to get you more kevlar." Tony looked up. "Want me to fly him in, Steve?"

"Not as long as we're safe. Let medical do the moving." Whatever Clint said, there was no way swooping around in Tony's arms wouldn't be doing him harm, even if it was temporary and non-lethal harm. In the meantime, Steve picked the knife back up, gave it a wipe on his thigh and pushed the tip of it against his wrist.

"I guess sterilizing isn't a thing with us," Tony commented, but looked away, then got back to his feet to make a bit of distance, boxes and junk crunching under the weight of his armor. "Enjoy your pending tetanus." Steve waited until he had come to a halt, and then, even though Tony couldn't give them real privacy, pushed the blade through his skin.

Re: Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[harcourt]

Getting Clint's head up was easier than Steve expected. With most of the silver gone, he'd regained some coordination and strength and managed to get his mouth onto Steve's wrist before Steve could bleed everywhere. After that, he moved by instinct, wanting to be closer and letting Steve drag and position him until they were mostly comfortable, with Clint leaning against his chest and holding Steve's arm in place with unsteady hands.

Steve wasn't sure how aware Clint was of Tony, standing guard close enough to be--not an intruder, but also undeniably there. There wasn't anything to see about Clint feeding, not really, but it felt intimate, the unnatural aspects of Clint's existence laid bare, but in a way that made him seem vulnerable. Weak with injury and hunger and letting Steve make soothing motions against his skin. Healing hadn't started yet, and might not until the last of the silver was out, but Clint already seemed more comfortable and able to move better. Breathing easier even though his eyes were still closed. There were still some thin tendrils of mist rising from Clint, low on his gut where Steve didn't want to go digging, and from the side of his chest where the bullet had entered between his ribs and gone too deep for Steve to chase after. It had to hurt, worse than Clint was letting on, and Steve couldn't give him enough blood to soothe it entirely away and still be any use himself.

Clint made a comfortable sound and finally moved, shifting closer and curling around Steve's wrist at the same time, in the feeding haze that Steve thought was the real reason he avoided going to SHIELD with his hunger. Medical would likely hook Clint up to an IV feed before getting him into surgery, and then Steve figured there'd be a lot of yelling about the information missing from Clint's file, followed by questions about what else Clint might have kept to himself, and then probably talks all around in which some of them would have to revisit how Clint had been changed to begin with, and who likely knew about what, and then a reevaluation of all the information stemming from that. For now, though, there wasn't much Steve could do but hold Clint and wait, and try not to get caught up in the now familiar unease over Clint and damage, and the way how much he could take was starting to blend into how much he would take, and shrug off, and how it was Steve's job to not let that happen, to make sure he kept being treated as human, silver bullets or no.













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Clint ended up not being a very vampy vamp. ^____^

Re: Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[delfinnium]

but the best sort! the sort where he probably gets to be cuddled while he pads around dopily in the kitchen in softpants and bare feet and curls up on counters, Steve's lap, tony's chairs. :D

Re: Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[harcourt]

Haha, yes! That is exactly the sort Clint should be!

Re: Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[delfinnium]

He is a soft soft cuddly vampire. :D

Why would anyone be so horrible as to shoot him full of silver, Steve is sad. Why wooud you make Steve sad, Unknown Shooter?

Re: Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[harcourt]

Because villain! Villains probably like it when Steve is sad!

Re: Clint/Any, Clint is a vampire

[delfinnium]

That is so cruel of them!

Poor sad Steve - all the sad.