It's roughly 3am when Clint jams the heels of his palms into his eyes. They're burning, aching, straining against the darkness, and he feels kinda like crying but finds himself laughing instead, helpless hopeless giggles bubbling out of him. Cuz who needs sleep, right? Another yawn rips through him, rumbling inside his chest and cracking his jaw. He feels more like a wreck than he has in a while, every bone in him aching, and his heart is still pounding from his failed attempt at sleep. Eventually he just gives up, raising almost mechanically to his feet, and walks to the kitchen mind submerged in a cloud of grey fog.
The siren song of the coffee pot is pretty strong, but James is on the couch and the tv's whispering infomercials into the darkness and if that ain't exactly how he feels.
'Hey,' he croaks, and James tilts his head back to look at him, then pats his lap like daytime boundaries ain't even a thing. Clint vaults himself over the back of the couch and lands awkward, wriggling down until he can rest his head on James's lap. Just friends being friends, just friends tangling their metal fingers in their friend's sweat-soaked hair, just friends burying their face in their friend's hard thigh cuz it's the only place they really manage to feel safe on these sleepless nights.
Some day he's gonna give in, there's an inevitability to it, but he's pretty sure the reaction won't be good so he's holding off. But it's so difficult, when James cups darkness over his eyes, tells him to sleep, tells him he's got him, tells him he'll be right here. Always.
[edited]
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Lover, | Winterhawk shorts stories
RomanceWinterhawk shorts stories cuz I'm hooked and they're aren't enough on here. I usually update every few months but sometimes I get busy. If you see that this hasn't been updated in 3 months dont worry! That's just how I work [Btw Bucky is referred...
