BOHICA Contingency Plan
Notes: Sex pollen, I am working my way through the cliches aren't I?
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Pietro doesn't see what hits them,too busy elsewhere and it's only when he hears the Captain utter a soft, "Oh, fuck," that he knows things have gone bad. The order to evacuate comes soon after, and despite his protests Pietro doesn't fight it hard. He can feel that wrongness spreading when he gets on the plane that no one bothers to try to fly this time.
There's a thick silence that eats him up, and no one is looking at anyone else. The strain of something is evident in their faces, and Pietro turns to Wanda whose presence in his mind has gotten distant. She's a small ball on one of the seats. Face red and eyes closed like she's in pain though he can't feel it from her.
He moves towards her and she senses it. Her whole body jerks away from him and he can feel a sudden rush of panic that fills him with hurt as he stops at the rush of mental words, No, no! Please, don't come near me! Don't touch me, not you!
He recoils from her in horror and doesn't stop until his back is to a wall. Staring at his sister in mute pain he feels her retreat even further from him mentally. Only the lingering hint of her panic along with some guilt and regret sticking behind.
It's a silent journey back to the Tower they claim as their home. A short one compared to some other calls they've gotten, and Pietro's past the hurt when they set down on the landing pad.
He's angry when the doors drop down and Wanda runs. Not at her but at whatever this is, and Pietro wants answers
"What is going on!" He rounds on Clint as the man barrels past him. Eyes on the floor just like everyone else.
"Don't, just don't," Clint mutters and swerves to avoid him. His voice tense and answers short.
The others are already gone, and Pietro's not interested in wasting his time finding them for his answers. He gets in front of the man again on the landing pad and grabs him by the arm when he swerves again. "Don't ignore me. What the hell is happening to my sister!"
"Don't," Clint repeats. His eyes pressed shut tightly and the muscled in his arm straining. Though if it's away or not Pietro can't tell.
He doesn't care either and pulls just as he moves forward. Getting in Clint's face with a snarl. "What is happening!?"
Clint's eyes are dark when they open. The pupils blown and Pietro distantly wonders how much of a concussion the man has before he's being grabbed and pulled. Away from the landing pad and inside where there's no trace of anyone even as Clint bypasses the elevators for the long hall of guest rooms.
He jerks to a sudden stop outside one. The door open and Pietro notices that all the others are closed only when they stop. Clint shudders and Pietro can feel the motion all the way through his arm.
"Kid. Pietro," Clint's voice is ragged, and he's breathing hard like they ran the whole way. His eyes are shut again on a look of utter pain, his body leans towards the room but his hand doesn't budge from Pietro at all. "She'll be fine. Your sister. She, we, just need to burn it out of our system."
"Burn what?" Pietro asks, anger a thin barrier between his confusion and dread.
"It's a drug, alright. Makes me- Makes us-" Clint's head turns slowly enough Pietro almost thinks he can hear each bone shift. His nostrils flare but he doesn't open his eyes and Pietro notices a slightly gold shimmer slanted across his face. His eyes are even darker if that were possible when he opens them reluctantly. They're bright with something when they lock on Pietro before slowly dropping. Looking him over blatantly. "Really, really fucking horny until we fuck it out of our system."
Clint lets go and Pietro reels from the revelation, and the drop of the man's voice. Clint's staring at him still and it's hunger that's looking at him. Hunger and lust for Pietro that stuns him to silence as he gapes back at Clint who smiles tightly at him.
"It'll be fine by tomorrow. Got all that's needed here," Clint nods back to the room but his eyes don't leave Pietro even as he steps back into the room. Strain on his face as he backs away, fists clenched tight. Now his body is leaning back out, towards him, and Pietro feels ready to be consumed by the look he sees there. "Just don't go knocking on any doors if you don't want to get pulled into something you might not want."
The door clicks shut and Pietro's left in a hallway of shut doors. Mind reeling and not able to keep up for once.
He makes it to the kitchen before stopping.
Wanda is alright. She's fine, and he doesn't reach out for her. He's got enough of a sense of what she's going through as it is, and intruding more isn't something they do. Some things require privacy after all.
Pietro's thoughts are still filled with that last sight of Clint now though. Eyes intent, and holding himself back physically from reaching out to grab Pietro. To pull him into that room with him.
Just don't go knocking on any doors if you don't want to get pulled into something you might not want.
Pietro swallows hard because he does, in fact, want. Has wanted for a long while, and there's a perfect opportunity going to waste just down the hall for Pietro to get a taste of a little of what he wants.
His mind restarts itself and Pietro finds himself back in front of Clint's door again. He's never been any good at all in resisting temptation. He doesn't knock. The door knob twists under his hand and an invitation isn't needed.
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[Fic edited to conform to site guidelines. See author profile for link to unedited fic.]
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Pietro wakes feeling warm and comfortable. Utterly safe, and at peace with life in general. That lasts right up until he feels the calloused fingers pressed against his back and remembers. He's laying with his head on Clint's legs. The man himself is sitting up with his back to the headboard and flicking through his phone. He stops when Pietro moves.
"Morning," Clint leans over to place the phone back on the bedside table. Careful not to move more than necessary. The fingers pressing against the back of Pietro's shoulders the only thing keeping him from bolting away. "So, Cap pointed out none of us ever got around to explaining the BOHICA contingency plan."
"The what?" Pietro asks when Clint pauses expectantly. Tensing despite the way the fingers have started rubbing soothing circles.
"It happens every once in a while. Stark calls it sex pollen, but it can be a chemical or even a mind whammie that does it. What it is doesn't matter so much, just the results," there's a trace of humor in Clint's voice and Pietro finds the strength in him to roll off the man. To scowl up at him. "So, yeah, the contingency plan is put in place to avoid awkward morning afters like this, or a really bad press revelation."
"Awkward," Pietro repeats in disbelief because awkward isn't the word he'd use exactly. Clint reads the clearly.
"We all know it's kind of- Yeah. Anyway, it doesn't have to mean anything," Clint says like he means to assure him. Those words are anything but reassuring though. The silence is loud and what he's feeling must show at least a little on his face despite Pietro's best efforts, because Clint sits up further and those fingers are back on his arm as he stares hard at Pietro.
"Or it could," Clint sounds a little unsure for the first time. "Mean something. You know, if you wanted it to."
Clint trails off a little and there's the awkward. It's reassuring to see some of the doubt Pietro's been feeling finally make it's way to Clint. He fixes the man with a glare that makes him squirm a bit. "What is it that Stark is always saying? You owe me dinner first. Then we'll see."
Clint snorts and relaxes. Shoulder brushing against Pietro as he leans against him. His smile is crooked and pulls at Pietro's chest like usual as the fingers on his arm run down to circle his hand. "Yeah? How about breakfast instead? I can do some mean pancakes."
"That would be a start," Pietro tries to sound casual but the lean of Clint's body against him is distracting, and it takes him a brief moment to realize he doesn't need to hold back on the urge to kiss the man. Clint's lips are soft and part slightly before Pietro pulls away. Getting out of the bed and into the clothing he left on the floor before the man can blink, because otherwise they won't be leaving the room at all. Pietro smirks at the pout he gets for that. "But I still expect dinner."
The snorting laugh that follows him out is a nice sound to hear so early, and Pietro wonders if he's lucky enough to get to hear it every day now.
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