cognitive_recalibration | 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.”

"You and Stark have the same expression on your face when things veer to the sentimental." Thor mimics it- a pinched brow, a grimace. "As though the words would prompt a sneeze."

He says so without judgement because- honestly? He understands it.

"Which is better than pretending I hear Heimdall calling for me when I do the same." Sometimes things are just- a bit much. And Thor knows fairly well that he is, in fact, quite a lot, even when he means not to be.

Sometimes he's more when he's trying not to be.

"What I mean is- I have no doubt you'd end up in the halls of Valhalla for your skill, valor, and bravery- but I'm glad we don't have to worry about that for awhile more." A beat. "Midgardians live, what, a hundred years? And you're...twenty?"

aw clint buddy