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Don't Believe Everything SHIELD Tells You

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Clint stared down at the open drawer with confusion and no small amount of disbelief. Slowly he turned his head and studied the unconscious man curled up on the bed behind him. “Wow,” he whispered, turning back to the drawer.

Everyone knew that the secret to keeping the Hulk under control was to keep Bruce Banner calm. To that end, they all made changes in their daily lives at the Tower. Tony’s lab went sound-proof whenever he played his music. Nat made everyone switch to decaf coffee (which made Tony more than a little cranky for a week or so, which led to Tony sequestering himself in his sound-proof lab during that time). Thor learned to use his ‘inside’ voice. Steve and Tony tried to keep their arguing to a minimum, and when they did argue, they went to the gym or the lab.

Clint’s not sure Bruce ever really noticed the restrictions the Avengers placed on themselves, and none of them brought it up, either. It just became routine. It worked. Bruce seemed settled, the Hulk came out when they needed him, and the team didn’t worry much about waking up in a semi-demolished tower. Clint sometimes felt bad for the shy doctor, though. It had to be incredibly lonely. Especially since Bruce was still young, very attractive and surprisingly fit for a lab guy.

Okay, so maybe he had a slight crush on Bruce. Smart was sexy, after all. Unless you were Tony, in which case, smart was annoying. He had gotten off more than once (more like dozens of times) to thoughts of those big brown eyes and that shy smile. He knew Bruce had been engaged or something once, but he also knew that SHIELD’s file on the doctor said that Bruce’s sex life ended when the Hulk was born. Looking down at Bruce’s collection, he was beginning to wonder if that was really true or not.

“Most of that is easily replaceable, but don’t take the glass beads,” Bruce mumbled, making Clint jump guiltily. “Those are custom made.”

Clint spun and knocked the drawer with his hip. He grimaced at the sudden shot of pain before clearing his throat awkwardly. “I wasn’t snooping,” he said quickly. “I was, um, trying to find you clothes. You know, since yours are...” he trailed off, motioning toward the scraps of linen that once were pants.

Bruce sighed and stood up, letting the shredded material fall to the floor. He shrugged slightly as he walked naked to the en suite bathroom. “It’s fine,” he yawned, disappearing behind the door.

A minute passed before Clint heard the shower start. He knew he should close the drawer and leave. He should pretend he never saw the dozens of dildos, plugs, vibrators, clamps, vibrating eggs, silicone sleeves and... oh fuck! Were those Hulk sized condoms??? Clint’s head was spinning as he carefully reached into the drawer and picked up a long wooden box. He opened it up and his jaw dropped. The first glass bead was about an inch in diameter. The second was twice the size. The last one, the eleventh on the thick string, was bigger than his fist. The whole thing was as long as his arm. Clint closed the lid and placed it back in the drawer. Sifting around, he found two other strings, but with smaller beads. He even came across a sounding kit.

The shower shut off and he knew he had seconds to make himself scarce and save them both some embarrassment. Instead, he squared his shoulders, turned toward the bathroom door and waited. Two minutes later it opened and Bruce walked out, wearing only a towel. He hesitated a second when he spotted Clint, but shrugged it off and walked to the bed and sat down.

“You can have sex,” Clint blurted out.

Bruce raised his eyebrows at the rushed words. “Yes. This… surprises you?” he asked with a hint of confusion.

“But the big guy…,” Clint cringed unable to finish his sentence.

“Stress and anger bring him out,” Bruce pointed out “Orgasms release chemicals that relax a person. Suppressing my libido causes an upsurge in my stress levels.”

“Aren’t you worried the big guy will come out? You know, um, during?” Clint asked, doing his best to ignore the spike of lust Bruce’s words caused him.

Bruce snorted as he ran a hand through his damp curls. “The Hulk likes getting off, too. It calms him.”

Clint felt as if his world view had gone wonky. Or maybe it had always been wonky and now he was suddenly seeing clearly. He licked his dry lips as heat unfurled in his stomach. “You. Can have. Sex,” he repeated, slower.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Yes, Clint. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m tired and want to get some rest. Can we discuss this some other time? Or maybe never? Never would be fine.”

Clint stared at Bruce for a couple of seconds before spinning back to the drawer and grabbing one of the life-like dildos and a bottle of (Strawberry flavored? Score!!!) lube. He closed the drawer with his hip and approached the bed with confidence. “Show me,” he demanded, holding out the items.

Bruce’s eye widened. “Excuse me?”

Clint wiggled the dildo slightly. “Show me,” he said again. “Show me how you get off.”

Bruce’s stare became more intense. “Why?”

Clint moved forward until their knees were touching. “Because,” he purred, “once I know how you like it, I’m going to fuck you until we both walk funny.”

Bruce slowly smirked. “And what makes you think you have any shot at that?”

Clint growled and surged forward, attacking Bruce’s mouth hungrily.


Clint couldn’t move. He was pretty sure he was paralyzed. He had absolutely no regrets. Beside him, Bruce was just as sweaty, and sticky. Their heavy, broken gasping for air was almost perfectly synced. Forcing his hand to move, Clint reached down and threaded his fingers with Bruce’s.

“That was… incredible… Holy shit,” he gasped softly.

Bruce gave a tired chuckle. “Wait until the other guy comes out. He’s got even more stamina.”

Clint couldn’t contain the needy, greedy whine that slipped from his throat.