Avengers kissing fest!

[such_heights]

(Me? Procrastinating on my own fannish projects? Never!)

I declare a festival of kissing for my pretty summer fling fandom. Avengers movieverse, all characters, all ships and no ships, all fanworks.

THE RULES:

01. Leave a comment with two or more characters from the Avengers movieverse who you'd like to see kiss. You can include a prompt if you like as an optional extra for the prompt-filler.
02. Reply to a comment with a fanwork in which those characters kiss. The kissing can be platonic or romantic, on the mouth or the cheek or the forehead or the shoulder or anywhere else that you like.
03. All fanworks welcome, including art/podfic/vids/icons/recs/meta/fic etc. Multiple fills for the same prompt are encouraged. Replying to your own prompt is fine. Anon commenting is fine. Coming back and posting a fill two months later is fine.

\o/

eta: fills so far:

Bruce/Clint
by estelendur

Bruce/Natasha
by musesfool

Bruce/Pepper/Tony
by d_generate_girl
by such_heights

Bruce/Tony
by musesfool
by thingswithwings
by florahart
by estelendur

Bucky/Natasha/Steve
by hederahelix

Bucky/Steve
by gorgeousnerd
by jain
by laylee

Clint/Coulson
by sunnyrea
by meinterrupted

Clint/Darcy
by liseuse
by liseuse 2
by grammarwoman

Clint/Hill
by stevie

Clint/Natasha
by recessional (contains gory imagery)
by liseuse
by liseuse 2 (gory imagery)
by some_stars
by recessional 2
by ceridweyn_lin
by recessional 3
by recessional 4
by anonymous

Clint/Steve
by longwhitecoats

Clint/various
by ashen_key

Coulson/Fury
by emmypenny

Coulson/Steve
by estelendur
by such_heights

Darcy/Jane
by meinterrupted

Darcy/Thor
by florahart

Darcy/Steve
by musesfool
by liseuse

Fury/Hill
by longwhitecoats
by igrockspock

Fury/Steve
by jain

Heimdall/Loki
by just_ann_now

Hill/Natasha
by just_ann_now
by liseuse

Hulk/Pepper
by spicedrum

Jane/Tony
by spicedrum

Loki/Thor
by terryh-nyan
by longwhitecoats

Natasha/OFC
by ashen_key

Natasha/Pepper
by thingswithwings
by such_heights

Natasha/Rhodey
by sinensis

Natasha/Steve
by liseuse
by musesfool
by spicedrum

Natasha/Thor
by spatz

Pepper/Tony
by thingswithwings
by spatz

Rhodey/Tony
by spatz

Steve/Thor
by estelendur

Tony/team
by such_heights

Comments

[raanve]

Steve/Natasha, New Year's Eve

[raanve]

Bruce/Anybody, aftermath

[raanve]

Tony/Anybody (everybody), after-party

[musesfool]

Tony's used to feeling a lot of things--feeling all the things, as the kids on the internet say these days (why no, Pepper, he's not screwing around posting pics of his robots to Tumblr during briefings, why do you ask?) but he's never been much good at expressing them in ways that aren't getting drunk or having sex or building robots, so he doesn't know what to do with this weird swell of tenderness that's surging in his chest as he watches Bruce sleep.

Tony tucks the blanket around him again, like it wasn't good enough the first two times he did it, and sighs. It's a sound that's more like Pepper than like him, so he plays a little game of "What Would Pepper Do?" and remembers the many times he's pretended to still be asleep so she would smooth his hair back and kiss his forehead. He does the same to Bruce now, hesitant in a way he'd never be if Bruce were awake, more afraid of himself and his ability to break everything he touches in ways Bruce can't even comprehend than he is of Bruce or the Hulk or even the possible weirdness of getting caught watching Bruce sleep.

He brushes Bruce's hair back as gently as he can and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, the skin there sweaty and warm against his lips.

Good, he thinks, that's good, sitting back and making sure Bruce is still asleep, unsure of what to do next for once. He dozes a little himself, eventually, and wakes to find Bruce's blanket tucked around him, and the sound of Bruce singing in the shower in the next room.

[such_heights]

Everyone, Spin the Bottle

uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

[recessional]

9 times out of ten, Nat is the most grounded, unflappable, composed and cool-headed person in the world, even if (for instance) their contact dissolves in front of them. Literally. Which has happened. And of that one time out of ten that she's not, ninety-nine times out of a hundred (of that one time out of ten) she just gets pissed off and a pissed off Natasha is bad news for pretty much anything she encounters.

But that one time out of a hundred of those one-times-out-of-ten, something hits her brain just the wrong way and lets some of the carefully controlled and neutralized fucked-up out.

The first time she doesn't shove it all back in like you'd to for a gut wound where your intestines fall out is the time that Clint realizes she actually trusts him (inasmuch as she trusts anyone, ever). And this is hugely gratifying and heart-warming and totally, utterly fucking terrifying when he finds her standing in front of a mirror she apparently smashed with her hand (which is bleeding), staring at the fractured reflection like it's got the secrets of the universe or has pissed her off recently.

(These are remarkably similar expressions, in Tasha.)

" . . . Natasha?" Clint says, cautiously. Then he searches for something to say that isn't going to set off Mount Vesuvius and settles on, "You're bleeding all over the tiles."

Natasha frowns and stares at her hand like she's not sure she's ever seen it before or like someone redecorated it while she was out. "How do you know?" she asks, in a weird and distant voice.

"Uh," Clint says intelligently, reflecting that "dealing with the Black Widow's mental breakdowns" is sadly not a currently listed training course at SHIELD. "I can see you. You're right there?"

Now Natasha turns her stare on him and he fights the urge to take a step back, because that . . . well, he hasn't seen that stare since before he decided not to kill her, and it's still fucking scary. But he just stands where he is, and she asks, "How do you know it's me? And don't say you know what I look like, Barton. Looks are nothing. Bodies are nothing. We're nothing. We're not even real."

There's probably a right answer to this, like, an approved and brilliant one. After a minute, Clint just shrugs and says, "I think if you were anyone else and I walked in on you being crazy and punching mirrors and questioning reality, I'd probably be dead by now?"

A lot of different expressions go across Natasha's face, that scrunch it up in different shapes, until she looks back down at her bleeding hand and seems to actually see it.

"Here," Clint says, ducking into the bathroom and opening one of the cabinets, holding up some gauze and bandage. Natasha lets him use the iodine wipes on her hand, but takes the gauze and bandage herself. When she's done she sighs, and looks up a bit more like herself.

"Sorry," she says, short and grudging, like she hates having to see it. On the basis that a little obnoxious is always more welcome than pity, Clint puts a mocking arm around her shoulder.

"Don't sorry about it," he says, and decides to totally break the mood by dropping a kiss on the side-top of her head.

The world pauses for a second, and then Tasha says, " . . . did you just give me a patronizing kiss on the head?" and really sounds a lot more like Natalia Romanova and a lot less like a crazed remnant of a super-spy-assassin. Clint congratulates himself.

"Yeah," he replies, and then adds, "And now I really know it's you, because I'm still not dead."

She's trying not to laugh as she shoves him away. Clint'll count that a win.

[recessional]

Thor/Jane, a little less rushed this time

[liseuse]

Clint/Natasha - We aren't even real.

It isn’t often that Clint gets sent on the deep infiltration spy gigs these days. They seem to have more use for him on rooftops and watching from a distance. But, right now, he is in a tuxedo, dancing with Natasha in the American Embassy in Kiev. They’ve been in Ukraine for two months. Playing the part of second-generation Americans, with (long dead, long mourned) Russian parents, and a lot of money to burn. Natasha’s running the show. Of course she is. She’s organising everything, and scaring the backup team by knowing more intel in three days than they’d found in months. Clint is, basically, along for the ride. He’s the charming husband, with the spine of steel, and the dangerous glint in his eyes. Just enough new-American to not mind being second-fiddle to his wife, and just enough bravado to occasionally slip the leash.

Natasha is wearing her favourite Dinner-And-Dancing-At-The-Embassy dress. It’s black, curve skimming, and forgiving enough that she can wear a thigh-holster and no one will know. It’s a miracle of engineering, and it has removable boning. She’s smiling gently, her head resting on Clint’s shoulder and the pearl earrings are reflecting the light from the chandeliers around the room. To an outsider she looks beautiful, peaceful and in love. Clint can feel her watching the room, knows she has a knife tucked into the boning of the dress, a revolver in the thigh-holster and that the thigh he has bracketed with his, as he dips her down so she can look at the balcony, could kill a man in seconds.

He brings her back up, twirls them round, and then flourishing, dips her again in time to the music. He’s playing this part as a little over-exuberant, it seems to be going down well. They have new money, new car, new attitude and new names. He can have a new personality for a while. “There are two snipers on the balcony,” he mutters into her ear, and she nods. “There’s one at the doorway as well, he’s hiding a gun under the champagne tray. Not very well.” Natasha sounds put out at the lack of effort the marksman is putting into his job.

“Well, in that case, shall we split?” Clint slides his hand up her back, splaying his fingers open. Their signal for “you left, me right, meet you in the hotel” and Natasha slides her hand up his back in an answer. The music comes to an end, and Clint draws Natasha in for a kiss, slides the memory chip over on his tongue and twirls her out of his grip.

[such_heights]

eee! I love how well Natasha reads Pepper here. <3

[such_heights]

*dolphin noises*

This is the most adorable thing to ever adorable. :D

[d_generate_girl]

Steve/Maria, attention.

[musesfool]

\o/

[musesfool]

Aw, this is adorable.

[thingswithwings]

*goofy spacey grins* I loooooove them! And I would pay cold hard internet dollars for that interrogation scene. :D :D :D

[liseuse]

I love your presentation of Pepper here. This is adorable!

[thingswithwings]

hesitant in a way he'd never be if Bruce were awake, more afraid of himself and his ability to break everything he touches in ways Bruce can't even comprehend

oh oh oh my gosh. Oh Tony. Jeez, now I am also feeling all the things. The TENDERNESS! And then Bruce woke up and tucked him in back. <3 <3 <3

[polarisnorth]

Bruce/Clint, solace.

[liseuse]

Eeee! Adorable and hot!

[liseuse]

My cat just jumped at the high-pitched squeaky noise I just made. Awwwww!

[liseuse]

Thank you!

[such_heights]

:D DARCY :D

[such_heights]

Fury/Steve, undercover

[liseuse]

Steve has got used to coming into the living area and seeing people sprawled over the couches, something on the TV in the background, and a sense of general hubbub. So he’s surprised when he walks in and there is no one there, and the only lights are two flickering candles on the fireplace. He sits down on the couch, and sighs. He’s tired, bone tired. It’s been a long week.

Natasha appears in the doorway, on the other side of the room. She’s holding a champagne flute, and her expression is darker than he’s seen before. Not in her patented I will kill them all, and then wreak havoc on their reputation way, but in a haunted way. She nods in his direction, and then curls up on the squishiest sofa. She raises her glass in the direction of the candles and downs the contents.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, low and quiet, so she can pretend not to have heard.

“Happy new year,” she says, turning her gaze on him.

“Umm …” Steve says, a little ineloquently. “It’s January 13th.”

“Yes,” Natasha says, “Happy New Year’s Eve.” She refills her glass, and then conjures another from somewhere by the sofa, fills it, and hands it over. “Drink with me.”

“I can’t get drunk, remember.” Steve says, eyeing the glass.

“This isn’t about getting drunk. It’s New Year’s Eve. Family, singing, celebrating. All that stuff.” Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Two calendars, two celebrations.”

”Oh”, Steve thinks, remembering Pavel, and holds his glass up to the candles. “Happy New Year’s Eve.” He sips the champagne slowly, and watches Natasha from the corner of his eye. “You know, the others would come and celebrate with you.”

“Yes. We could have a party,” Natasha sneers. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“It might be nice?” Steve says, and catches her eye. “None of us are doing well in the family department. And regular New Year got ruined by having to go fight killer robots. We could handle a do-over.”

Natasha doesn’t say no, which Steve thinks he can take as acquiescence in this matter, and she doesn’t rip his phone out of his hands when he starts typing a message. Sometimes he really wishes she could have met Peggy, and then he wonders if she had, somehow.

Clint is, oddly, the first to arrive. “Stark’s in his workshop, with Banner,” he says by way of explanation, and hands Steve a foil container. “I brought pie.”

It isn’t long before everyone else arrives. Natasha hands them all glasses of champagne, and uncurls into a sitting position. They all raise their glasses to the candles, and toast the old year and the coming new one.

Natasha leans into Steve’s side, and drops a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

[liseuse]

SHE IS AMAZEFACE.

How do I not have a Darcy icon? Clearly I need to rectify that situation.

[musesfool]

Thor & Natasha, friendship