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Clint tucks his head deeper into the warmth that surrounds him. He has the habit of pushing his blankets off when he sleeps but thankfully he has a much better blanket that gives off it's own heat and loves to cuddle just as much as he does.
“Are you awake, my love? I am in need of relief.” His blanket rumbles and Clint grumbles in response, pressing himself closer, trying to squeeze himself into the crooks and crevices of Thor's muscles.
He's surrounded by chuckles, chuckles that shake his entire being and he whines again. Thor has a disgusting habit of waking up early no matter what the day. Clint huffs dramatically and throws himself away from Thor, to the other side of the bed, rolling the covers up around himself along the way.
A large arm curls around him apologetically, and warm breath gusts against his the back of his head, the only part of his head still exposed. Thor nuzzles against his insane amount of bedhead, pressing kisses there and Clint smiles into the blankets.
“Do not be like that, my hawk.I promise to return as swiftly and as surely as your arrows fly.” Thor proclaims between kisses, because the man never really just says anything.
“Hurry back.” Clint purrs into Thor's throat the moment he's twisted and wormed his way back to face Thor.
“I will.” He presses one last kiss to Clint's lips, morning breath and all (Clint's, not Thor, demigods don't apprently have morning breath) and then he's gone, padding across the room to the bathroom and Clint watches, admiring the perfect scultpure that is the god of thunder.
Once Thor's out of view (the door's open but Thor's out of view, sadly) Clint flops back with a sigh and tugs Thor's pillow over to cover his face, blocking out the sun filtering in through the day curtains. And it's comforting, smelling his lover. Clint can't help but smile smugly. He gets to bang the god of thunder on a regular basis and get snuggles from the god of thunder on a regular basis. The world has every right to be fucking jealous.
~*~
After a quick tumble in the sheets and then a quick shower (or not so quick all put together), they make it out to the kitchen, or Clint goes barrelling into the giant kitchen, where Steve and Bruce are making pancakes, Tony is passed out on the table and Natasha is using him as a prop for her book as she stirs her tea. Bruce and Natasha continue to be unfazed as Clint uses the counter to boost himself up onto the top of the fridge while Steve just starts to brace himself.
“WHERE ARE YOU? I AM STARVING AND YOU KNOW I WON'T EAT WITHOUT YOU CLINT.” Thor's voice booms from the living room and Tony jerks awake, enough to upset Tasha's book before falling back asleep and piss Natasha off. Enough that she glares at Clint while yelling for Thor.
“He's right here, Thor.”
Thor comes stalking in, face splitting into a grin when he spots Clint perched on top of the fridge.
“I do believe I have found you.” Thor smiles up at him and Clint wrinkles his nose.
“You cheated. Tasha told you where I was.” Clint sticks his tongue out at Thor,before diving off, right into Thor's waiting arms, accepting the kiss waiting there for him.
“You two are disgusting.” Tony claims, without ever opening his eyes, Tasha's book resting against his side.
Thor plops Clint on the chair next to Natasha and goes to help with plating up the pancakes.
Clint just leans over Tony and plants a wet, slobbery kiss.
Tony gags and slides off the table just as the stacks of pancakes are put on.
~*~
Once they're all on the various surfaces of the living room, suffering various levels of food coma Tony raises his hand.
“It's New Year's Eve. Who's coming to my party tonight? I am, Tony. Oh great Cap, I am too! Wow, I guess I'll go since Bruce is going. Nat, you're going? I guess I'll come too. IF MY LOVE IS GOING THEN I MUST TOO AND WOW EVERYONE WITH MY AMAZING ASGARDIAN GARB.”
They're all too lazy to protest and too lazy to laugh even.
And they all know Tony secretly wants all of them to be there. And they all really want to spend New Years together. As a team. As a family.
~*~
“You ready, babe?” Clint calls out as he fiddles with his cufflinks, trying his hardest to button the last little button he has no idea why Natasha insisted on the shirt with the two buttons because they are impossible to button.
“I am.” Thor beams when Clint opens the door to the bathroom and gapes. He's never seen Thor in his Asgardian wear, aside from his armour and just kind of gapes. Maybe if he gets married to Thor he'll get Asgardian garb of his own because it looks awesome.
“You look like a gift.” Thor whispers, hands bracketing Clint's elbows, before sliding up his arms to cup his face.
“Me? You!” Is the extent of Clint's vocabulary at the moment because he's still amazed by all the silver and gold and solid metal armour and chainmail and braided hair and wow.
“Never, ever doubt how beautiful and amazing you are.” Thor leans all the way down for a kiss that Clint feels to his toes.
“Keep this up and we're not going to make it to the party.” Clint mumbles but tugs Thor even closer, the draped cloths crumpling against Clint's vest and shirt.
“Friend Tony will understand.” Thor breathes into Clint's mouth, pressing him back against the vanity.
They're still earlier to the party than Tony is.
~*~
Someone -Natasha, Tony and Pepper (she is sneaky that one, don't let her angelic looks fool you)- has been plying Clint with too many drinks and he can hold his liquor as well as anyone, but they've been plying him with the good stuff and he can't help but feel a little loose, like the beautifully lit and decorated ballroom is some kind of dream, a little hazy and soft around the edges. It's a nice feeling, to be able to just be drunk, knowing that his friends and his lover are all there watching out for him. It feels like forever since he really got to relax like this and Clint doesn't want to care anymore. He's had a tough year. He deserves to enjoy his new year.
Someone removes the glass Clint has in his hand, distracted as he is by watching Fury and Natasha dance. Two beautiful, deadly people. Almost everyone in the room has their eyes on them.
“Let us, how do you say it? 'Give them a run for their money'.” Thor proudly proclaims as he snags his arm around Clint's waist and Clint has half a mind to protest but that lazy warmth lingers in his fingertips and he allows Thor to pull him onto the dancefloor.
“Thor, I don't think either of us knows how to dance. Or well, maybe you know how to dance your Norse dances and stuff but I don't know'em so I'm probably going to end up doing something stupid I mean it's not like I can't dance, I can, really well I'll have you know, Tasha's a very good teacher and I did grow up in the circus so I've got some pretty sweet moves on me but I don't think we really know how to dance together for real like Tasha and Fury smmf-”
Clint hardly notices Thor pulling him close, an arm wrapped tight around his waist so that Clint's head comes to rest against Thor's shoulder as they sway gently to the double bass. Clint hardly notices how most of the partygoers sigh wistfully when Thor smiles and presses his cheek to Clint's hair. Clint hardly notices how Thor's smile goes from dopey to amused as he continues to ramble and he hardly notices when Thor releases his hand to cup his cheek and draw his face up for a kiss, dipping him low.
He hardly notices the whoops and catcalls from their audience over the roaring of blood in his ears as Thor kisses him breathless.
Clint does start to notice the clapping when Thor pulls him back upright, pressing their foreheads together and smiling all warm sunshine and honey. “Perhaps I should not have allowed Friend Tony and the Ladies Pepper and Widow to provide you with so much Asgardian mead.”
Clint doesn't quite know if the blush that is heating his cheeks is from the kiss, or from being such a lightweight, or from having everyone cheering him on. He doesn't even know three quarters of the people.
He's honestly quite thankful when Bruce -sweet, kind Bruce- quietly announces (and somehow manages to be heard by everyone) that they've only got a couple of seconds left to the new year and everyone starts getting ready for the countdown.
Thor tucks Clint close again and as the last seconds of the year wind away, Thor steals another kiss amidst the cheers for the new year.
~*~
About an hour later finds them sprawled on the couch of their apartment, JARVIS with instructions to keep everyone out.
Thor's hand slides up Clint's thigh, the silk like liquid under his fingers.
“I am aware you do not enjoy such formal wear, but you look and feel amazing in it.” Thor proclaims as he continues to stroke his hand up and down Clint's thigh, before slipping inwards, nails trailing up the inseam, flicking Clint's suddenly aching balls before cupping him through the silk, grinding the heel of his palm against Clint.
“Hngmf.” Is all Clint is capable of. He means to say maybe, but eh. Thor seems to get the idea well enough because he smiles and rewards Clint with another kiss.
They fool around, lazily almost, until Clint once again finds himself almost completely undressed (his vest, tie and shirt are gone, he's pretty sure Thor really just like to touch his legs and ass in silk, or at least Clint thinks it's silk, it feels silky to him, he'll have to ask Coulson exactly what material it is and invest in lots more of it if it makes Thor this touchy-feely, not that Thor isn't touchy feely usually but this feels amazing on a whole new level) while Thor is still fully clothed.
Clint once again finds himself at a severe disadvantage. He has no idea where the gold cloth begins and ends and where the red one begins and ends and there's still the light armour and what does it say about Asgardian parties that their party-wear involves armour of some sort and he really really wants to thread his fingers through Thor's hair and mess up those beautiful braids a little and maybe he wants to watch Thor braid his hair again because who else could have done it right?
And yet all Clint does is to yet again paw stupidly at Thor's clothes.
Thor Laughs. That deep, rumbley laugh that leaves Clint feeling a little breathless, as if the floor has just dropped out from under him. “You need only ask, my love.” Thor slowly unwinds the cloths, unclasps the pins and brooches and lets the cloth fall away, slowly revealing first his arms (seriously, there are Clint's arms, and then there are Thor arms) and then the armour drops away and there is that perfect body.
Clint looks up, to meet Thor's eyes, eyes that have seen so many different worlds, seen so many people, and yet Thor now looks at him like he's the only thing that matters in all the realms, like he's the one. And finally, deep down, something eases in Clint. Like he finally believes that Thor loves him as much as he seems to, that those beautiful blue eyes aren't lying to him. He is Hawkeye. He should know.
“My new year is looking real good.” Clint grins, smug like a cat that got the cream, and continues to grin when Thor draws his chin up for a long, lingering kiss.
“As is mine.”
~fin