Clint sat in the tall grasses, winding a tall weed he plucked out of the ground around his fingers as he looked over the the ocean horizon behind Tony's mansion. Loki laid on his back and watched the puffy clouds inch by and he sniffed the scent of the salty water with pleasure.

"Where do you wanna go first, after we settle the villa?" Clint asked quietly.

"Africa," Loki whispered with a smile and Clint snorted.

"Really?"

The god nodded gently. "Egypt, specifically. But afterwards, anywhere is fine."

Clint assented and hummed, finding Loki's chosen location surprising, but he didn't want to ask why. It wasn't really his call- he'd go wherever Loki wanted him to go. They would set up their things in their borrowed villa, and then- whatever they wanted.

The California sun had lightened their mood considerably since they arrived. New York had been sunny, but it's not the same without a beach at your feet, lover by your side smiling at the clouds. Loki was doing just that- the slightest curve to his lips and breathing deep, wearing a set of creamy, loose pants gathered at the ankles, and a T-shirt nabbed out of one of Tony's dressers. The breeze fluffed over him to ruffle his pants and raise the hem of the shirt over his belly, and he seemed content to lie in the sandy grasses all day. Clint wasn't going to complain. Sitting beside him in shorts and tank, Clint let himself tan under the sun and watch the horizon blankly. When he watched the wind tussle over the god, revealing his skin in the bright light of day, he smiled and glided his fingers over the expanse affectionately before pulling away again.

"Do you know why I like this so much?" Loki offered in a pleased rumble, and Clint hummed in question. "I could do this on Asgard, but Thor would always run out to bother me. Hovering over me and wondering what I could possibly find endearing about lying still under the sun and watching the sky. He would ask me to spar with him or hunt with his friends; always saying that I wasn't busy so why couldn't I?"

"Yeah, but you're a little more nature-y than Thor," Clint said. "It's easy for you to enjoy that. When I was a kid, I couldn't sit still for a minute unless I was learning a craft."

"How did you learn to enjoy stillness?"

"Grandad, of course. Taught me the stars, and suddenly the whole world was this gorgeous, detail-oriented place and you can only see it if you sit still. I didn't take to it right away of course, but I got there."

Loki hummed and they sat again in silence, barely hearing the ocean below the cliff. A sharp metallic click and scrape drew Clint's attention, and it was only Loki lighting a cigarette against the breeze. He peeked open one eye and smirked at the archer, cigarette pinched in the apex of two fingers. Clint snorted at him and shook his head, leaning back with an elbow in the sand.

"Alright, let me have one of those."

And Loki handed over the pack and the lighter, letting Clint light his own and take a big drag. He left the pack of smokes between them, inspecting the small lighter off-handedly. He thought, some time after seeing Loki with it, that it could be a tracking device, but he felt like the odds were small and he had a hard time caring. He tossed the lighter onto the sand next to the cigarettes and laid back, moaning as he tasted the smoke leaving his lungs.

"Fuck, I haven't smoked since… Jesus I can't even remember. Fifteen years ago? Been a long time."

"Why stop?"

"Other than they kill you faster?" Clint laughed. "Ah, work, I guess. It gets expensive, and it's an addiction. Hard to shoot a target incognito when your hands are shaking 'cause you haven't gotten your fix."

"Does this mean you will start again?"

"I don't know. Probably not, but it sure is nice to taste it again."

Loki almost never changed out of the loose, lounge-y clothes since arriving at the mansion. He flowed around the place calmly, a light smile on his face if you knew how to see it. Clint spread himself out on one of the couches and watched the god go into the kitchen, happy that his lover was at peace here. He knew it couldn't last long, but it was something.

The television was running a James Bond marathon, the current film being Goldfinger, when Loki came back into the living room, two wine glasses in one hand, bottle in the other, dripping water onto the carpet in little pitter-patters. Clint smirked at him and Loki returned it, setting the glasses on the table and climbing on top of him, letting Clint hold his hips.

"What's that look?" Loki says lowly, leaning over him to touch noses.

Clint smiled and hummed, labeling the different colors of green in Loki's eyes internally before pecking a small kiss on his lips. "Just looking at your pretty face, baby. You planning to get drunk tonight?"

"I think you should be drunk with me. Hence both glasses."

"Oh, I see: you want to take advantage of me like the last time I was wasted."

Loki chuckled his low rumbly chuckle and went in for another kiss, more than just a peck, sliding his fingers down Clint's jaw and neck. "I've had my fun with you," he said and made a quick jab at the scabbing wound over Clint's ribs, making him hiss in pain. "You may have me again, if it pleases you."

"Mmm… Break open the bottle then."

Clint woke up the next morning on the floor, head under the coffee table and pants around his ankles. He groaned and lifted himself up, smacking his head on the underside of the table to exemplify his headache.

"Good morning, Agent Barton," Jarvis greeted with the movement in the living room.

The windows of the back porch lost their sun-blocking tint and let in the daylight to blind Clint in his hungover daze, and he cupped his hands around his eyes as he gently scooted out from under the table, trying to shield himself as much as possible from the light.

"The air temperature is a lovely 82 degrees with a light wind if you'd care to take a swim to clear your head."

Clint sat back against the front of the couch, knees out and ankles together as they were caught in his jeans, letting his limp cock hang as he groaned again. "Heat up the ocean, Jarvis; no one wants to see what happens when my goods get cold."

"You could wear shorts, sir."

"That's an option?"

Loki moaned from the other side of the room, rolling out from under the piano, naked but for the bearskin rug tied at the paws around his neck. He didn't get up, settling for lying on his back and staring blearily up at the ceiling, confused.

"Why am I wearing a bearskin?"

Clint let his head fall back onto the seat cushions of the couch. "Did we throw a rager last night- just the two of us? How does that happen?"

"You did consume copious amounts of wine during the course of the night, sirs."

"Oh my god- wine hangover! That's why I feel like so much shit."

"Shall I run a bath?"

From beside the piano, Loki moaned quietly. "Master bathroom, please."

"Of course, sir."

Clint carefully, and weakly, got himself up, pulling up his pants and holding them at his crotch before going to Loki and helping him up as well, untying the bearskin and letting it drop. They stumbled into the master bathroom already filling with steam from the tub, and Clint let Loki step into the water first while he calmly kneeled in front of the toilet and vomited. The god leaned back in the giant bathtub, eyes half closed and waited for the sound of the toilet seat and lid to clack shut before looking up at him. Clint wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and shoved his jeans down to his feet again before gingerly getting into the bath himself, legs bent over Loki's and toes brushing his sides.

"I feel better," he sighed and let his head roll to rest nearly on his shoulder, looking at Loki just as tiredly. "There's... shit on your face. I remember why you had the rug on you."

Loki hummed at him, not capable of speech anymore.

"You were trying to be an indian chief. Because you were gonna 'reclaim your rightful land' and 'sow your wild oats' in me. Pepper's lipstick all over your face like fucking-" Clint starts laughing, rubbing his eyes with his wet fingers. "Like fucking warpaint!"

Loki groaned and rolled his eyes, trying to hold in his chuckles, but they soon slipped out of him, giving the archer a gentle kick to his sides for laughing at him. "And we didn't even have sex after all that! All that wooing and booze and I couldn't seduce you."

"We didn't?"

"No. I'm sure we didn't."

"I guess your offer didn't please me," Clint laughed. "I ain't that native, babe."

"See if I ever dress up for you again. Ugh, my head aches."

"I know, me too." Clint rubbed his toes over Loki's side, sliding down in the water until it reached his chest. "We'll get some pills when we get out. And food."

Loki grimaced and leaned his head back on the lip of the tub. "I don't want to think about food."

"Jarvis- jets."

Clint rustled around in the kitchen while Loki slowly got dressed, finding a waffle-maker and roaring triumphantly about it. Sitting on a barstool, dressed in his loose and pale clothes again, Loki rubbed his temples and sighed.

"You sound like Thor. Could you please limit your hooting to an acceptable volume?"

Clint chuckled as he set the waffle-maker up and asked Jarvis to look for a simple waffle recipe. "Sorry babe, just excited. Haven't had waffles in years. Did you take those pills yet?"

Loki grunted and dropped a handful of white pills on the counter. "I need something with which to choke them down."

"Gotcha."

Clint opened the fridge and selected a fresh carton of milk, pouring a glass and setting in front of the god. Loki sighed and thanked his lover, reaching for the glass and palming the pills in his other hand. He tossed them into his mouth and chased them with the milk. He drank down half the glass and watched Clint move around the kitchen at Jarvis' command, opening cabinets to find the listed ingredients. As a finishing touch, he looked into the fridge and found fresh blueberries, humming happily at how good they looked and set them on the counter. While Clint mixed the bowl of measured ingredients, Loki popped open the plastic box of berries and threw one into his mouth while he waited.

"Like this lifestyle, Boss? Waiting on me to make you breakfast in this fancy ass mansion?" Clint's face was calm, watching Loki happily as he stirred the mix in the bowl. He scooped a cup out and poured it into the waffle-maker, closing the lid and waving away the steam that wafted into his face.

Loki smiled gently, head in his hand. "Yes."

"Yeah, me too."

Their headaches and stomach pains cleared up throughout the morning, Loki pleased even more with the waffles made for him, happy that he didn't throw them up like he thought he would. They lounged in the living room after cleaning it up- throwing away the emptied wine bottles, righting all the decor and pillows thrown about. Loki found the lipstick he'd used on his face and put it back where he found it, same with the bearskin rug. For a few hours they watched TV, still a James Bond marathon re-run for the day, and watched the ones they missed while drunk. Lunch had been more waffles, since Loki had liked them so much, and then they actually dressed, though Loki couldn't say why he felt like he should be. He sat back on the couch in his jeans and long-sleeve, telling Clint when he asked that he just felt like he should be dressed. Clint squinted at him curiously for a moment and then settled back into the cushions, asking after a moment if he should be clothed too. Loki said he didn't know. Later in the afternoon, Clint still sat on the couch, with Loki wandering the kitchen again to look for a snack, and Jarvis lowered the volume of the TV.

"Sir, Agent Sitwell is on the premises."

Clint blinked hard and shook his head. "What?"

"A craft has landed on the helipad and Agent Sitwell is on his way to the door."

Loki suddenly appeared at the kitchen doorway, concern on his face. Clint met his eye with the same expression and got up from the couch slowly, watching the glass front door cautiously. When Sitwell came into view, walking to the door, Clint tensed and glared. The bald agent knocked and waited, patiently and professionally. The door, while glass, was mirrored on the outside to prevent casual peeking in, and Sitwell didn't try to get a look, acting as if the entrance were like any other door. Clint told Loki to stay where he was, out of sight from the doorway, and he went up and opened the door enough for his body to fit. Sitwell smiled at his appearance like a friend meeting another.

"Agent Barton-"

"Fuck are you doing here, Sitwell?"

"Checking on your well-being," he said simply, still smiling. "I was asked to make sure you arrived and settled safely."

Clint didn't buy that for a second, but he kept the squint of suspicion off his face, leaning into the door as though he were at ease. His eyes skipped over Sitwell's shoulder to check that his motorcycle was still there and intact, and it looked to be fine.

"What, the boss think Loki's gonna throw me off the cliff or something?"

Sitwell snorted. "I guess so. And it was a long trip driving here- making sure he didn't bury you in the desert."

"We didn't drive. I had the bike shipped here. We flew."

"Ah, I see. I was misinformed then. Agent Romanov said you were driving cross-country to see the sights."

Clint's heart started to pound even as he kept his face straight. He hadn't told anyone where they were going. Natasha and Fury had said not even to tell them. Sitwell couldn't know any of this. Behind him, Loki was stepping out of the kitchen, walking slowly and curiously to the back windows to look out over the cliff-side. Clint glanced back at him when Loki quietly uttered his name, backing away from the windows cautiously. Turning back to Sitwell, he heard the faintest whirs of helicopter blades, and he cursed. He balled up a fist and punched Sitwell in the face, throwing the door closed before running back into the house.

"Loki, pack your shit!"

The god had already run through the living room, throwing whatever things they had left out back into the saddlebags and backpack, while Clint shoved his boots on, reaching for his bow and strapping it over him. Waiting for the okay from Loki, they burst from the room and ran to the door, scanning the area for enemies. The helicopter was fast approaching, and men began swinging out from it to crash through the windows. They swiped up their helmets on the way out the door, hearing the glass shatter behind them as the back windows were blown in. Sitwell was still outside, cradling his face and shouting up at the skies through his earpiece as they ran out of the house. Clint shoved him aside as he went by, mounting the waiting motorcycle, and he didn't look back when he heard him give a sudden gasp and groan. Loki climbed on behind him and as Clint spun the bike around to peel out through the driveway, he didn't feel bad to see Sitwell lying on the ground, bleeding out.

The men in black who had crashed through the house tumble out the front door as Clint sped off, leaving them to regroup in the helicopter again. It gained ground on them as Clint sped them out of the driveway and onto the road, but they followed the bike at enough of a distance to seem unsure. Clint let Loki take the gun from his waistband to fire on the pursuers. He wasn't sure if the helicopter was bulletproof or not, SHIELD or not, but any cover fire was good at this point. He concentrated on the road, thinking of the next moves, and commanded Lucia to set up a route of escape. She listed an address and pulled it up on the motorcycles screen, leading him along. He wove through the streets, helicopter on their tail, and he wondered briefly why they weren't being shot at yet. And then the first bullets hailed down and he skidded away down another street to dodge them. A slight tug around his chest had him confused and looking down to see Loki's hands on his bow, pulling it over him and flicking out its limbs.

"I'm out of bullets," Loki half-shouted into the microphone of his helmet.

"Have you ever used a bow before?"

"I'm about to figure it out, aren't I? Which one of these explode?"

Clint didn't have time to explain to Loki which arrows in the quiver on his back were which as he weaved between cars, cutting through lines awaiting entrance to an airport. He barely heard Loki laugh at himself ("Obviously not that one.") through the noise of the road, the wind and honking of angry drivers even through the microphones. But Lucia overrode the sound anyway with a not-so subtle reminder.

"Agent Barton, might I suggest the missiles?"

He'd forgotten about the small but powerful armory inside the bike, thinking how unnecessary they seemed when he first heard about them, but now he was relieved.

"Yes! Can you target on your own?"

"Of course, sir."

The AI took that as the go-ahead and armed the missiles, firing them when ready and hitting the pursuers dead on. The helicopter exploded and spun in a crash of debris into the lines of cars, the bulk of it smashing into the toll booths blocking the path. Loki cackled through the headphones of his helmet and turned back to the front, bow still in hand and holding his arms around Clint. Lucia directed him through the airport and onto the tarmac, speeding past the parked planes loading passengers and baggage handlers looking on with confusion. She rattled of the numbers of their awaiting aircraft and Clint found it already taxiing, airlock open and stairs down to receive them. He angled for it, driving under the wings of another moving plane and found himself flanked by two black vehicles closing in to crush them in the middle. He twisted the brakes and squealed the tires to let the cars fly by them, throwing Loki into his back with an 'oomph!' before taking off again, sweeping around the chasing vehicles.

"I hate it when you do that!" Loki shouted. "You never warn me!"

Clint ignored him and raced up to their plane, coming out from under the tail. "Loki, when we get to the hatch you have to jump off, okay? You see that?" He pointed out to the aircraft rolling ahead of them. "Jump onto the stairs!"

"What about you?"

"I'll come around again. Get your shit ready!"

He steered them right up beside the plane, hatch open and just out of arms reach, and when Clint shouted for Loki to jump, Loki did, catching the lip of the stairs. Shots rang out behind them, shooting for the god and bouncing off the plane as they missed. Loki dangled above the tarmac for a moment before pulling himself up into the plane, Clint wavering the bike under him and pushing at his feet until he was out of reach. The cars zoomed up behind him again, close to bumping the back tire and shooting again, clinking against the metal and ricocheting until he swerved around them in a circle, swinging behind them and up to the hatch again where Loki was waiting, helmet off and hair blowing in his face. Clint took a deep breath and readied himself, steadying his feet on the rests and rising slowly off the seat as he neared. He revved the bike to jolt him forward just as he came up to it and jumped up to grab hold of the speeding plane, letting the bike swerve and slide, scraping the cement as it fell and slowed. Loki braced himself on a bar and reached down for Clint, letting him grab his arm and help haul him to safety. He and a bewildered stewardess frantically pulled in the stairs and closed the hatch to the oncoming vehicles and their fire, and then he shouted for the pilot to takeoff. The stewardess ushered them into a set of cushy seats, told them to fasten their seat belts, and then hustled over to her own seat and strapped in just as the aircraft pulled up to leave the tarmac. With the wind cut off and relative silence surrounding them but for the stray bullets from the shooters, Clint and Loki gasped and sighed as they sat and gathered themselves. Clint unbuckled the quiver from around him and set it on the floor, leaning back into his chair and reaching out to set his hand on Loki's thigh. Loki let his head fall back on the rest and put his hand over Clint's, letting his heart settle.

When they got into even air, hearing from the pilot that no aircraft was trying to chase them, Clint went into the cockpit and made a plan for landing. He called Tony through the plane's phone and told him what happened. Tony sighed and cursed and blamed Loki half-heartedly, saying he would find his bike and get it shipped to the villa. Clint thanked him and apologized for the damage to his mansion, also warning him that there could be a dead Sitwell on his doorstep. Tony had nothing to say to that except going slightly off-mic with 'oh my god- Pep! Get the dead-man-in-my-house-and-it's-not-my-fault papers!'

Exiting the cockpit, Clint went back to sit at the small table across from Loki. He watched the god look out the window at the passing clouds, sun slowly setting beneath them. Loki sighed.

"Now where will we go?"

"Well, Sitwell's most likely dead, so there's really no one else to come after us. Prophet was some two-bit wanna-be mastermind that Sitwell was probably paying to kill us. If he had any more contacts in SHIELD, I think we'd know. I'd say we're in the clear." Clint smiled when Loki finally looked away from the window to him. "We're going to Europe."

Loki returned the smile and leaned back in his chair, only now relaxing. "Finally."

"Yep. Just the two of us now. You and me… forever." Clint smirked and touched his boot under the table to Loki's.

The god snorted but smiled just the same, looking back out over the orange-pink clouds. "Fool."