Actions

Work Header

Daddy Issues

Work Text:

Clint and James were chillin' on the couch, watching TV. A pretty regular sight for a Tuesday afternoon. The archer's legs spralwed over the sniper's lap. It was comfy. Quiet.

The room started to shift. It was subtle at first... Until they were no longer in their apartment.. But inside Clint's house from when he was young. James didn't seem to notice, and suddenly he felt like a teenager again. This couldn't be happening...

"What tha hell d'ya think yer doin'? No son o' mine's gonna be a fuckin' faggot. Get up!" Neither of the boys had time to react before Harold was pulling Clint by the scruff of his shirt and throwing him on the floor. The older man was soon on top of his son, any attempts to make him stop the beating was futile.

--

"Clint! Wake up!" The archer swung for the voice, disoriented and confused. It collided with Jame's jaw hard, and before he could land another punch, Clint's hands were pinned to the bed.

"It was just a dream. Breathe. In.." James over exaggerated the movement of inhaling. "And out..." And again with the exhale.

It took a few chocked breaths before Clint remembered exactly where he was and what was happening. "A dream.." He whispered. "Fuck. Did I hit you hard?"

James scoffed. "Nah." He let go of the other's hands, but stayed close. "You okay?"

With a nod, Clint ran his hands through his hair. "Yeah... Yeah. Just a dream."

"Just a dream my ass. You fuckin' hit me!"

"You just said it didn't hurt!"

"Hawkass."

The blonde sighed. "We were kids. You 'n' me, sittin' on the couch at my old man's place." He could feel James tense beside him. "He started yellin'. Something about bein' a faggot an' he was on top of me..." he gave a little smile and touched the spot he had hit earlier. "Guess I fought back."

James returned the smile half heartily. "My pops wasn't too keen on us 'faggots' either." He pressed his lips against Clint's hard, as if proving a point, and pushed him back onto the bed. "Fuck 'em."

"I think you're supposed to fuck me?" Clint offered, tangling his fingers in brown hair.

"I was gettin' to that point, Hawkass."

It didn't take James long to make Clint forget about his nightmare. And if a few more bruises ended up on each other that night, they were more than welcomed.