shanachie_quill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shanachie_quill) wrote2012-08-26 10:56 pm
shanachie_quill) wrote2012-08-26 10:56 pm
Entry tags:
FIC Overindulgence
Title: Overindulgence
Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, William Brandt
Fandom: Avengers 2012, Mission Impossible 4
Series: Double Trouble
Written For:
Prompt: three in a bed; out drinking Russians
Summary: Clint isn’t sure why his cousin thought it was a good idea to try to out drink is partner, but one day Will will learn.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none really
Warnings: slight swearing—boys are hungover; three in a bed; boys have a wardrobe malfunction
Disclaimer: No one in here belongs to me. (More’s the pity) and I am not making any money off of this.
Author's Note: I’m working on a longer crossover between these two fandoms, but this little bit just hit me and it doesn’t work in the longer piece. So you get this. It’s mentioned in the longer one as a throwaway and it’ll be fun to see how many people pick up on it. Will learns a valuable lesson here, that will probably come in handy when he’s working with Ethan.
Clint tried to shift in bed, but found he was pinned in place by a heavy weight. For a brief moment he panicked, but then most of the events of the prior night came flooding back and he groaned instead. Shoving at the heavier of the two weights on top of him, he pushed his cousin over. “I told you not to try to drink her under the table,” he bitched. Sitting up, he clutched at his head as it spun. “Ow. My head.”
“Shut up, Clint. Seriously,” Will groaned, his face now smushed into the pillow.
Clint gently ran a hand through his hair, trying not to jar his head too much. Glancing down, he frowned. “Will? Where are my jeans?”
“How the hell should I know?” Will asked as he flipped himself over. He looked over at his cousin. “You’re missing more than your pants.”
“I wouldn’t talk, Will. You’re kinda missing a few things, too.”
“Both of you shut up,” Natasha growled from the other side of Clint.
They turned almost in unison to look at her. “How come she’s still fully dressed?” Will wanted to know.
“Russian,” Clint said as if that explained everything.
Will threw an arm over his face. “Fuck.”
“Sure.” Natasha raised herself up so she could look at both of them. “Although I don’t think you or Clint could stand knowing I’ve been fucked by both of you.”
Will groaned. “I do not need to know about your sex life. I really, really don’t. Especially before coffee. While I’m hungover. And missing my pants. And my shoes. A sock. My shirt. Why am I still wearing my tie?”
“I have no idea, Will. Why are you still wearing your tie?” Clint asked.
“This is all your fault,” Will replied.
“How is it my fault?” Clint demanded. “You’re the one who decided you could out drink Natasha. She’s fucking Russian! What made you think you could out drink her?”
Natasha growled at them, then spit out a string of Russian, causing them both to wince.
Clint rubbed his head. “It’s way too early in the morning for that, Tasha. Especially after last night.”
“Maybe next time you won’t try to keep up with us,” Natasha responded.
“Maybe next time I’ll just shoot myself and save myself the misery,” Clint replied. He rolled over; burying his face in the pillow he’d somehow managed to hold onto. “Wake me up when you’ve managed to make coffee,” he mumbled.
“I hope you don’t expect me to make you coffee,” Natasha said.
“I would never,” Clint answered, raising his head just enough so that the words were clearer. “But Will could do it. Since it’s his fault I feel like my head got hit with one of my explosive arrows.”
“Hey, how is this my fault?” Will demanded.
“You. Tried. To. Out. Drink. A. Russian,” Clint enunciated slowly.
“And that never ends well,” Natasha added. She looked at him as Will continued to lie in bed. “Coffee.”
“Right. Coffee.” Will groaned as he swung his legs out of bed. “Pants?”
Clint waved a hand absently. “We’ve already seen it, cuz. Just be glad you aren’t bare assed.”
Natasha snuggled back down next to Clint as Will grumbled and groaned his way to the kitchen. “You think he learned his lesson?” she asked.
“God, I hope so. I cannot do that again,” Clint replied, before closing his eyes. “I learned my lesson about trying to out drink you years ago.”
Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, William Brandt
Fandom: Avengers 2012, Mission Impossible 4
Series: Double Trouble
Written For:
Prompt: three in a bed; out drinking Russians
Summary: Clint isn’t sure why his cousin thought it was a good idea to try to out drink is partner, but one day Will will learn.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none really
Warnings: slight swearing—boys are hungover; three in a bed; boys have a wardrobe malfunction
Disclaimer: No one in here belongs to me. (More’s the pity) and I am not making any money off of this.
Author's Note: I’m working on a longer crossover between these two fandoms, but this little bit just hit me and it doesn’t work in the longer piece. So you get this. It’s mentioned in the longer one as a throwaway and it’ll be fun to see how many people pick up on it. Will learns a valuable lesson here, that will probably come in handy when he’s working with Ethan.
Clint tried to shift in bed, but found he was pinned in place by a heavy weight. For a brief moment he panicked, but then most of the events of the prior night came flooding back and he groaned instead. Shoving at the heavier of the two weights on top of him, he pushed his cousin over. “I told you not to try to drink her under the table,” he bitched. Sitting up, he clutched at his head as it spun. “Ow. My head.”
“Shut up, Clint. Seriously,” Will groaned, his face now smushed into the pillow.
Clint gently ran a hand through his hair, trying not to jar his head too much. Glancing down, he frowned. “Will? Where are my jeans?”
“How the hell should I know?” Will asked as he flipped himself over. He looked over at his cousin. “You’re missing more than your pants.”
“I wouldn’t talk, Will. You’re kinda missing a few things, too.”
“Both of you shut up,” Natasha growled from the other side of Clint.
They turned almost in unison to look at her. “How come she’s still fully dressed?” Will wanted to know.
“Russian,” Clint said as if that explained everything.
Will threw an arm over his face. “Fuck.”
“Sure.” Natasha raised herself up so she could look at both of them. “Although I don’t think you or Clint could stand knowing I’ve been fucked by both of you.”
Will groaned. “I do not need to know about your sex life. I really, really don’t. Especially before coffee. While I’m hungover. And missing my pants. And my shoes. A sock. My shirt. Why am I still wearing my tie?”
“I have no idea, Will. Why are you still wearing your tie?” Clint asked.
“This is all your fault,” Will replied.
“How is it my fault?” Clint demanded. “You’re the one who decided you could out drink Natasha. She’s fucking Russian! What made you think you could out drink her?”
Natasha growled at them, then spit out a string of Russian, causing them both to wince.
Clint rubbed his head. “It’s way too early in the morning for that, Tasha. Especially after last night.”
“Maybe next time you won’t try to keep up with us,” Natasha responded.
“Maybe next time I’ll just shoot myself and save myself the misery,” Clint replied. He rolled over; burying his face in the pillow he’d somehow managed to hold onto. “Wake me up when you’ve managed to make coffee,” he mumbled.
“I hope you don’t expect me to make you coffee,” Natasha said.
“I would never,” Clint answered, raising his head just enough so that the words were clearer. “But Will could do it. Since it’s his fault I feel like my head got hit with one of my explosive arrows.”
“Hey, how is this my fault?” Will demanded.
“You. Tried. To. Out. Drink. A. Russian,” Clint enunciated slowly.
“And that never ends well,” Natasha added. She looked at him as Will continued to lie in bed. “Coffee.”
“Right. Coffee.” Will groaned as he swung his legs out of bed. “Pants?”
Clint waved a hand absently. “We’ve already seen it, cuz. Just be glad you aren’t bare assed.”
Natasha snuggled back down next to Clint as Will grumbled and groaned his way to the kitchen. “You think he learned his lesson?” she asked.
“God, I hope so. I cannot do that again,” Clint replied, before closing his eyes. “I learned my lesson about trying to out drink you years ago.”