Drabble Day - Prompt 2

[kinky-kneazle.livejournal.com]

Team Cheer

Comments

[blossomdreams.livejournal.com]

Title: Planning
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 190
Pairing: pre-slash Clint/Bruce
Warnings: teeth rotting fluff
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Avengers and their characters belong to Marvel and all the writers.
Summary: Tony demand they have a team song and Clint flirts with Bruce.
Notes: So yeah more Bruce/Clint who are growing on me like my love for science boyfriends. <3

“We need a team cheer.” Tony declared at breakfast one day. Silence, confusion, and indifference met his statement.

“Why?” Steve asked.

“To let everyone know when we arrive.” Tony said.

“I think they’ll know when we get there. We’re not exactly quiet.” Clint said.

“Yeah, but we don’t have a theme or a catchy tune for our team and I think we need one. No we definitely need one.” Tony nodded.

“Do we really? People pretty much know who we are.” Bruce said.

“I’m hurt that you take Katniss’s side over mine. Come on we need something!” Tony tapped his spoon against his coffee mug.

“I can ask the Valkyries to conduct a song for us. They would be happy to record our journey into battle!” Thor said.

“See now we finally have a plan. I knew it would come together.” Tony sat back with a smug smile on his face. Steve shook his head, Natasha sighed, and Thor happily talked about the song. Bruce looked over at Clint who winked at him. He quickly turned back to his pancakes with a sheepish smile.

Bruce hoped he wasn’t too obvious.

Clint, Kate Bishop, gen

[curiouslyfic.livejournal.com]

There’s no tension in it for him, no suspense about the results. The color commentators are trying, have been since the qualifiers wrapped, and they’ve long since hit the sour side of hyperbole. In deference to Tony’s ever-present twitch, Thor’s stopped pounding ale in celebration for every successful competitor and in deference to Thor’s obvious enthusiasm, Cap and Bruce are spelling off on commentary of their own.

Clint’s explaining the rig, making Tony snort with pleasure when he explains how much better his own is, when her name flashes on the screen.

K. Bishop, U.S.A., odds-on favorite of the Games, shooting for gold against what the television tells him is the reigning World Champion. Even the commentators’ graphics department is excited, apparently; Clint’s glad all over again that they’ve talked Tony into hacking them actual live coverage so he can see it all go down.

He knows just watching her nock she’s got this, but he’s pretty sure he knew that a week ago. Thinks she knows she’s got this, too.

He doesn’t have to imagine what’s going through her head now, how much pressure she’s applied, and he can see it release. She nocks that first, he figures, lets it fly before she goes for the shot.

Thor celebrates. So do Cap and Bruce. Even Tony stops muttering about the inefficiencies of the bow design when she hits her third.

Her competitor’s good, well-deserved World Champion, but she’s not flawless. Kate’s hitting them all, Robin Hooding twice to keep her shots on the inner gold of the target, and the future silver medallist puts two in nine on the line, one distinctly in outer gold. Shit like that’s got to wear on her, Clint thinks, and can’t quite summon the sympathy he’s found for his own silver medallist.

“Looks like you’ve got some competition, there, Katniss,” Tony says and Clint lets it slide. When she’s down to her last shot, one arrow away from perfection, Bruce whistles.

No question the color commentators have already mentioned the impossibility ahead, how very fucking rare it is to have anyone come in and shoot perfect, and he’s sure they aren’t the only ones making the comparison. Twenty years ago, he’d walked in out of nowhere, shot his way clean to gold, and walked off without a second thought.

As far as he knows, it hasn’t happened since.

Then her last shot’s flying and Clint thinks maybe he’s picked up the tension she’s released because damn, the release when it’s true.

She doesn’t smile when she takes gold, just steps back and nods, looks like he should maybe be taking her out for coffee again. He will when she gets back.

“Wow,” Cap says, because they’ve teased him out of golly by now. “That’s amazing.” Cap turns to Clint; Clint picks it up peripherally, can’t bring himself to look away from the television yet, not until the shot changes. “That’s amazing, right? What she just did, that’s really difficult?”

Clint shrugs. Hadn’t been all that challenging for him, but he’s not exactly the Olympic standard anyone wants. “A clean round? Tricky, not impossible. A clean competition, though? Yeah.”

“Could you do it?” Bruce asks. Clint’s not sure it’s a challenge, so Clint just looks at him, lets Bruce read whatever answer he wants in Clint’s face.

“That is…She is actually Katniss,” Tony decides, and because it’s Tony, Clint can only imagine the mental processes at work. “We might need to find you a new name, Cupid.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “Nothing wrong with Hawkeye,” he points out, though he has little faith it’ll do any good.

Tony hums distractedly at him. “You are from Iowa,” he agrees.

Some talking head from the station’s got her cornered, shoved a microphone at her for what Clint can only imagine is an entertaining interview.

And because the guys are distracted, because Clint sees things people miss, Clint catches the closed captioning as it flickers across the screen, the shout-out she spares for the Unofficial Kate Bishop Cheering Section back home.