NOTES: A year ago today (7/31/12), I published my first bit of Avengers fanfiction. To celebrate a year of writing over a quarter of a million words for the fandom, I asked readers to give me prompts of what they wanted to see. Turns out, they could all fit during or after my story of Wishes and Nightmares. So as a thank you for being kind enough to read what I write and support my crazy stories, here's my thank you in the form of bonus scenes of the story I just finished.

Prompts will be posted once a day until I run out. There's seventeen of them, and they will be posted in chronological order according to the Nadiaverse timeline.

Thank you all again for your comments and favorites for my words. It means a ton.

the_wordbutler requested "...a scene with Clint and Phil shortly after Loki came in and essentially made Phil all better. Because reactions from those boys. And their love. And whatnot."

This scene would take place during the first chapter of Wishes and Nightmares.

Clint refused to let Phil leave Medical until the doctors ran all their tests. Twice. The archer sat silently in the chair next to the bed, nodding every time Phil swore he felt fine but never truly believing him.

Watching the man die was ten times worse than the imagination-fueled nightmares that'd plagued his sleep for the last eight months. Their relentlessness hadn't subsided in the twelve weeks since Phil's return from the dead, but at least when Clint awoke drenched in sweat, Phil was there beside him.

Once all the test results were double-checked, the doctors came and told Phil that there was no sign Loki ever attacked him. His lung functions were completely normal, unlike during the handler's physical six weeks prior; scars had vanished, residual pain along with them. The patient was released and the men traveled silently back up to their quarters.

Neither said much about it for the next three days: there was a battle in Queens, Clint was tasked away for an afternoon, Phil kept busy dealing with Tony in his genius fugue and Bruce being stuck in the Other Guy's body, and there was the fact that they both sucked at talking about their feelings.

When Phil first came back, Tony'd promised to build the handler his own floor. Clint volunteered to let Phil stay with him in the meantime; he used the excuse of wanting to keep an eye on him. Only Natasha gave him a look about it, but then again, she was the only one who knew the two of them had tried to start something a few days before Loki showed up in New Mexico.

Two dates were all they'd had. And that's only if you called late-night meals in front of Phil's TV watching crappy reality shows "dates. " Then the world'd gone to hell—or at least Clint's had.

When Phil came back from the dead (the first time), Clint led him to his quarters, telling his boss to take his bed, that he'd sleep on the couch. Not that Clint actually slept; instead, he sat down next to the open bedroom door to listen to Phil's breathing. Not a creepy, stalker way, just wanting to make sure he was still alive and all.

"I can feel you out there," Phil'd mumbled from the bed. "Get in here if it means you'll actually sleep."

Clint muttered an apology as he gingerly crawled under the sheets. "You feelin' okay?"

"You won't be if you ask me that again," Phil answered, keeping his eyes closed.

Clint wanted to laugh at the joke, but they both knew there was no way Phil could carry out the threat. He was pale, and his suit hung loose. The doctors had told the team that it would take a while for Phil to get back to his old self, if he could ever get there again. Loki's attack had left him with decreased pulmonary functions and badly broken ribs. Loki'd nicked his heart, but that damage was mostly repaired. Somehow. Clint didn't really ask questions with not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

Clint stayed with Phil as much as possible that first week. At least, until Phil got antsy under the constant supervision, which was when Clint let Natasha take her turn. It wasn't until a month after Phil'd come back that he allowed Clint to look at his scars up close, to memorize their shape with the tips of calloused fingers.

It took six weeks before Phil was allowed back on duty, and six weeks after that, Loki reappeared. If anything, Clint was gentler in his touch after Phil was deemed healthy than when he'd first come back, as though, if he poked too hard, something would shatter and turn to ruin. His touch was fearful, his mouth silent, but so was Phil's.

A week later, Clint walked out of the shower to find Phil standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. The agent was completely dressed with the exception of his dress shirt, which was draped over the foot of the nearby bed. Phil stared at his reflection with a look on his face Clint had seen a hundred times before; it was the expression the handler wore when he was trying to put pieces of a puzzle together, and rarely did that look have to remain in place as long as it was in this moment.

Clint secured his towel around his waist as he slowly walked up behind the other man, the knot of emotion in his chest swelling with each step. He came to a stop directly behind Phil, resting a hand on each bicep.

"Is he trying to screw with my head?" Phil asked.

"You'd know if he were, trust me."

"Then why? Why this?"

Clint shrugged. "He said he was granting wishes as well as nightmares. Maybe this is his version of an apology."

Phil shook his head. "Someone like that doesn't say he's sorry. I don't think remorse is something he's capable of."

Clint tried hard not to let his mind drift back to the time he spent under the influence of the Tesseract when he could easily hear Loki's thoughts. Instead, he leaned forward to place a kiss on Phil's shoulder. "How about," he said softly, his hands moving underneath the man's arms to find his hips before sliding up to his chest, "we just be happy for a bit?" He nuzzled against the spot where Phil's neck became his shoulder, smiling when he heard Phil's sharp intake of air as Clint's fingers grazed a nipple before his hand laid flat against the spot where Loki's staff made its exit wound, the softness of chest hair that'd taken the place of the angry scar underneath his palm. Clint's right arm wrapped around Phil's waist to pull him flush against Clint's chest. "Why don't we try that for once—just being happy? We both know it won't last for long."

Phil nodded and sighed, letting his weight rest for just a moment against Clint's body. "Okay," he agreed quietly.

"Okay," Clint seconded. "Besides, I think we're clear of Loki screwing with our lives for a little while. Let's enjoy that."