Summer brings warm nights and with it, an excuse for Clint to use the hammock. It's just like a big swing, only Clint can lie in it, take a nap. It's even better when James joins him.
They end up spending entire afternoons in that thing, James usually lying back, rocking the hammock, and Clint plastered over him like a pancake.
Speaking of breakfast, it's almost dawn. They've fallen asleep in the hammock and Clint doesn't remember, or even understand, how he ended up with James on top. But it's good, the night is silent and the grass makes the air smell like summer. There are still stars shining high in the sky, just a sliver of light toward the east.
Clint wraps his arms around James' form, carefully lowers a foot to the ground. He starts the hammock into a gentle swing, closes his eyes to enjoy the moment.
Just then, James shifts with a sigh, pushes his nose against Clint's shoulder.
"Morning, kitty," Clint whispers.
James' head snaps up and he blinks at Clint. But then he rubs his cheek against Clint's t-shirt, follows Clint's collarbone, trying to press his face into Clint's neck. His breath tickles and Clint squirms.
"Nh, keep still," James mumbles.
Clint chuckles quietly, pushing a little harder for the swing, just when James wiggles up, pressing closer against Clint. It upsets the balance, and they both roll off, landing in the grass with a heavy thud.
James groans loudly, and Clint laughs, leaning his forehead onto James' chest.
"That was the opposite of still." James wraps both arms tightly around Clint, pulls him closer.
"You were the one moving," Clint counters.
"Shh," James mumbles, eyes falling closed, "be quiet."
"Why?" Clint whispers.
"Wanna hear your heartbeat."
Clint buries his smile in James' shoulder. Sleeping on the ground is good, too, if James is there.