cognitive_recalibration | For Thor (stopmjolnirtime)

For Thor (stopmjolnirtime)

From here

It’s not every day you get someone promising to beat down death’s door to rescue you from it, so please excuse Clint’s shocked, mooneyed face for the next several minutes.

He’s been living his life wrong, he decides, only slowly returning to chewing so that he doesn’t choke on the lump of pizza in his mouth. Why has he never gotten to know Thor outside of Avenging? The guy is beyond sincere and obviously a pretty great guy under the princely visage.

Maybe that’s because Clint Barton is not a good guy. He’s been doing his best to change that for years now but you don’t just clear a slate of evil deeds overnight. He honesty never may. Until a few moments ago, he’d been sure that the only person he honestly matters to was Tasha.

Phil’s gone after all.

Damn.

Damn, he doesn’t like feeling itchy like this. He decides it’s the dried blood and drops any other thought or reason for the sudden tingle.

“Uh. Wow. You know, that’s the coolest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

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Thor is- not sheepish when he speaks next, but a little less cheery. "Jane and I are no longer seeing one another, and have not been for some time."

And he has, perhaps, been a little...shy about going out and meeting new people. For one: Finding similar life experiences is difficult on Midgard for so many reasons, for another-

Jane was truly special. Brilliant, driven, compassionate, so full of life and intense focus- just any person wouldn't do after he was so fortunate as to have earned her favor. Even if he lost it- he doesn't begrudge her their parting. She wanted someone that would be there. That would remain by her side always- and she deserves that.

Aww, no. No. Clint’s face drops. “Damn it, Thor. I’m so sorry man. I didn’t know. She was really nice.” And boring. So bland. Clint keeps that to himself. Thor can do so much better! “You’ve just got to get back in the saddle! You’ve got what? Two whole Realms of ladies to try out?”

That sounds bad. Nat would kill him for being so sexist.

“I’ve been told I’m not a bad wing man if you wanna try an Earth girl again.”

"She was. We remain friendly, if not together." And he will remain forever grateful for that friendship, it could have been much worse. She could have died or they could hate each other and that'd be-

Just.

The worst.

"It's hard to find people with similar life experiences. Or- well. Jane wasn't ever..." He shrugs, gesturing to himself as he returns with two mugs of coffee. "Who and what I was never mattered to her. Anyone on Midgard sees me as Thor first. Well- Susan doesn't, but Susan is married. Anyone on Asgard sees me as a potential political partner rather than life partner."

“You don’t think who you are should matter? It’s sort of…. It’s part of you right? The person has to love all of it. Or they won’t be able to handle you flying off the save the day.”

The drip finishes in the coffee maker and Clint stands rather gracefully all things considered to pour himself, and Thor, a cup.

“Not for nothing though, I get it. You’re giant and cut and are probably a great lay. People want the avenger’s girlfriend tag I guess. How you do you take this? Too much sugar like me or are you a purist?”

"It is, but- I wish to be known and cared for as myself. Not a warrior, a prince, a hero, a fool." Because he is, quite often, very foolish. It's gotten him into just as much trouble as it's gotten him out of, really. "Or God of Thunder."

A beat, a quirked bow as he takes a sip of his black coffee. "And fertility. I am an amazing lay."

Because clearly that's the part that needs emphasizing.

“Well yeah, that’s probably no contest there,” Clint says, glancing Thor over. What? He’s not allowed to look? He has eyes! Maybe his gaze lingered a little but—

Clint pauses in his own mental rant and parts his lips for a moment. He looks confused.

“How many kids do you have then? I mean, we can probably spin it. Lots of women like kids…?”

Clint can look and Thor can settle comfortably, legs slung out, hip against the counter, nevermind that he's still got blood on him from the night before- he knows he looks good. It's hard to not. "None. I think, for the time being, I've had my fill of the fairer sex."

Which isn't to say he isn't interested in other potential partners, it's just- dating is hard, as a hero.

“Not really a god of fertility then are you?” Clint ribs Thor, holding the mug to his chest to feel the heat. He’s been so pleasantly warm under Thor’s arm on the couch but now this place just feels a little too cool.

The archer grins cheekily, and heads back towards the couch. Yea, yea, let Thor pose like the Adonis he is. Clint’s sure there’s songs about bouncing quarters off of his abs.

"I'm not the one that told Midgardians of my vigor and virility in bed. Fandrall was." Thor boasted about many, many things in his time, but bedsport? If you had to brag, clearly, you needed the reassurance.

"What of you? Do you require a wingman of your own?" Which- that isn't how it'd go at all, no matter how helpful Thor would want to be-

Clint would get ignored entirely, despite his best intentions.

“What me? Nah, I’m drowning in it.” This, of course, is a lie. Clint does not date. Clint does not have one night stands. He may not be as recognizable as the flashy part of the Avengers but he does not have the legal team Stark does to refute one night stands.

Besides, a man with his background does not settle down. He had. Once. Long enough to get married and have a couple of kids. Just long enough to feel safe. And a little too long to see them all killed. But that was a long time ago and he’s still a little gunshy about it.

And when is he supposed to find the time?!

“I gotta pry them off. Man, you should see my DMs.”

"Ah, of course." Thor smiles over the rim of his mug. "I'm glad to know the people of this world know you for the catch you are."

Because he is, if not unearthly in the way of the Aesir- singular and striking. Sharp eyes, angled jaw, powerful arms, a clever mind and steady heart. That he is a focused and determined warrior is only to his benefit, Thor is surprised he has not heard more of these exploits.

Clearly this means Clint is also, above all things, discreet- yet another point in his favor!

Now that he feels like his manhood has been saved in the face of a literal fertility god, Clint can breathe more evenly. He doesn’t need the world, or even the Avengers, to know how lonely he is. What? Lonely? Certainly not. He’s too busy for that! Plus, he has Nat. And now he has Thor who is willing to rescue him from Australia.

Win-win-win.

“Oh yeah. I really am the catch. But we’re talking about you. If there’s someone like Susan out there who doesn’t know you, there has to be at least ten more. And not all of them can be married, right? Or it’s okay to just be alone too. For awhile. Work on yourself. Maybe take a shower. You’re literally covered in my blood and it’s weird.”

"Is it? It is." Thor huffs quietly, knocking back the last of his coffee and tugging his shirt up and off on the way to the bathroom. "I'll clean up and then we can get that thread out of your side."

Which will take tweezers and patience, but he's up for it, certainly.

He's pretty sure he has at least one shirt that'll fit Clint after he's taken a shower. Mostly? Moderately. It may be one of Jane's she left behind but it's oversized for her, meaning it ought to fit Clint, and it had the benefit of being purple.

Thor's shower is short, hair combed and braided out of his face, towel around his hips as he walks past to the bathroom. "Your turn, I'll have something for you by the time you're done."

The most amusing thing about this situation is that his own room is literally down the hall. He could go and come back without anyone noticing. He could climb through the vent in the kitchen and even bypass FRIDAY. Of course, he realizes as he closes the bathroom door, Thor’s muscled back still interspersing the rest of his thoughts because damn, Jane why would you give that up?, that Thor is still taking Nat’s threat seriously.

And it’s been over ten hours since he’s been shot and Thor put it put on Twitter. He has yet to call her. Or text her. So maybe he is going to dead if he leaves?

While the water runs, Clint makes sure his bestie is kept in the loop again. He explains about Thor partially kidnapping him and they have a good tease about it. When he finally showers, it’s several minutes later and it takes him a lot longer to turn the water off than it had for Thor.

Mostly because his wound had literally healed around the purple stitching and he had blood stuck in his hair. Both required a lot of extra examination.

There's a sharp rapping on the door as Thor returns, fabric folded in his hands. Purple galaxy shirt, soft sweatpants, folded socks as it does get cold in his suite on occasion, not that he is ever particularly bothered. "Clint? How are the stitches? Do you require aid?"

He will offer it as best he can, though he is not very experienced with stitches and the like, stones tend to handle such things.

Wrapped in a towel meant for someone of Thor’s size, Clint opens and then immediately closes his mouth again. “Thor. I think those are for women. Which you know. To each their own. But there’s not enough cloth to cover me…”. He lightly pokes at what must be Jane’s old left behinds.

He feels bad but he’ll stretch out that fabric so badly and ruin the garment.

“Could I just borrow something of yours? I roll up the pant legs. And I have a feeling you’re gonna have to help me cut out these stitches. Maybe I’ll get a decent scar after all.” He’s already covered in them but they’re like tattoos. You just get addicted to getting more.

"Ah. One moment-" he turns, rummaging through a nearby dresser to collect a shirt and sweats of his own size. Red and grey, still worn soft and comfortable, though Thor takes a knee to squint at Clint's stitches. One calloused hand rests against his ribs to steady him as he picks, gently, at one of the threads to feel how deeply they are set. Fairly deep- he truly should have done something about this the night before, but-

It never occurred to him. Clint bleeding and possibly dying for his lack of attention lingered in the mind far more than the discomfit of removing stitches like this. "Apologies, I should have thought of this when I used the stone. Where did you even find this thread?"

Edited (now that i'm not phone tagging) 2023-01-26 05:13 (UTC)

Relieved that he won’t have to shimmy into Jane’s old things, Clint isn’t really paying attention to what’s happening when Thor kneels down to peer at his abdomen. He doesn’t jump or jerk back but his skin does tremble involuntarily at the gentle touch.

“It’s fine,” he says, clearing his throat. “Let me get some pants on— Ah, maybe sterilize some scissors. I could use the help pulling these out.”

Thor is very hands on. Clint doesn’t actually mind but he’s not used to it.

“I keep a sewing kit on me. All times,” he laughs, stepping back to shut the door on Thor. Because WOW it’s hot in here.

"Mm? Ah, sure." Thor stands to step back, offering Clint his privacy. There's a first aid kit somewhere in the room, all of them have something stashed away. He hasn't touched it since he first started sleeping here since he had yet to be injured so grievously as to require mending.

So it does take a moment for him to remember, rooting around cabinets near the coffee maker before he comes up with the kit- tweezers, scissors, and disinfectant, before knocking lightly on the door once more. "I've found the first aid kit."

“Gonna be honest with you, Thor, I’m not sure I’m going to really like this part.” Usually after he sews himself up, he gets it removed pretty quickly and actual surgical thread or staples replace it. This is a new deal.

He gives his little jagged purple line a frown once more before he puts on the pants and cuffs them three times. Embarrassing. He needs to pull the drawstring tight and could probably tie the crossed cord at his back. Even more embarrassing.

With a sigh, Clint presents himself.

“All right. Let’s make sure I’m a real boy and not a Ragdoll.”

"I...don't have any painkillers. But I do have mead?" That might help, he thinks, to at lest put Clint in an easier mood to bear the discomfort that's about to occur. He could just start picking away but-

The idea of doing anything to cause pain in a friend outside of agreed upon sparring or pranks or jests? Sits ill with him. Thor frowns down at that little line of purple tucked in and out of Clint's skin and knows it cannot remain- infection is a problem for Midgardians, millions of little illnesses or injuries and potential problems exist.

Even if he hates to think of them.

“It’s cool, Thor. Really, I can handle a little bit of weird seam ripping.” He did just get shot and he was able to survive that and stitching himself up afterward. Clint tosses himself on the couch, just giving it a glance to make sure it’s not bloody, before he thinks better if it.

Maybe not the couch.

Coffee table then? That can be cleaned up so much easier.

"As you like." Thor only frowns a little at the idea, collecting the kit and patting the coffee table for Clint to sit. Once settled? Disinfectant for the skin and thread, the tweezers, the scissors as he considers the best way to go about this. "Hold onto my shoulder and squeeze when it becomes uncomfortable."

There, that'll work. Maybe. It's not as though Clint can hurt him, at any rate.

"Ready?"

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For Thor (stopmjolnirtime)

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Oh I usually okay Clint more 616 than MCO. So partial hearing loss. No family. Etc.

Oh cool! I wasn't sure, excellent >_>

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aw, clint, t-t

Clint is small but he’s gonna still bust those sleeves open Thor!

Short but solid, nicely muscled, v nice.

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I was this close to having thor walk out naked earlier >.>

That would have been hilarious. Clint would have made the biggest frownie face

Poor buddy, another time, maybe.

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