(body heat )

[absurdities]

The Body Heat Meme



Post with your character! They're now stuck in a very cold place of your choice. It can be anything, such as a freezing chamber, a cavern or a small cabin in the midst of a blizzard. The choice is up to you.
Comment around! Now your character has some company in this bone-chilling environment. The two of them share two things in common: clothes completely unfitting for this weather (be they summer clothes or even lingerie) and a blanket.
A blanket? Yes, just one warm blanket and no other ways to escape the cold. The two of them will have to share it in order to stay alive in this weather. Don't worry, you're sure to find a common language in this terrible situation!
So, uh, have fun, I suppose. Try to not freeze to death!
Protip: friction and body heat are both excellent ways to fend off cold.

Comments

clint barton | mcu

[antes]

[trusted]

[Seems like five minutes ago it was a sunny day in Brooklyn.

No, okay, it was five minutes ago that it was a sunny day in Brooklyn, and Bucky'd been considering buying his first non-uniform pair of sunglasses when something kicked off a few blocks down. And by something, he means - well, no goddamn idea actually but the planet's been collecting aliens and gods and wacky science experiments for a while, so he hears, so probably one of them. And by kicked off, he means went crazy.

And apparently when you've spent a whole lifetime killing people, the only way to redeem yourself is to spend the whole next one saving them. The only way to go on living, really. And that means he gets himself involved - and then it's not just him, it's one of Steve and Natasha's new crowd, the ones he's been half keeping his distance from because he's damn sure they have no reason to trust him more than he trusts himself.

And then the situation escalates and the next thing he knows half of Midwood's in a block of ice and he and - well, it's Clint, isn't it. Codename Hawkeye. The next thing he knows the two of them are trapped in one of the desperately inadequate summer houses in the communal green space between the buildings. And it doesn't feel so much like summer anymore.

At least Bucky's not in short sleeves because, well. But there's nothing else here to keep warm with, save a raggy beach blanket left by some kids who'd been setting up a fort.

He picks it up.

Looks at Clint.

Holds it out.

And guesses that's going to be the closest thing to his way of saying hi, nice to be screwed with you.]

[antes]

[ There's a principle there that Clint's familiar with. Not exactly penance, but proving your mettle, or something like that. His folks wrap themselves around a telephone pole and after that it's just him and Barney, and after that it's just Clint, and he's a superhero now — yeah, laugh all you want — but there are patches in between that don't look so great. Not at the I was the Winter Soldier level of not great, but still.

It's the principle of the thing.

Anyway, shit goes down and before they know it, it's a miracle on not on 34th street but a chunk of Brooklyn. He's not sure how it occurs that it ends up just being him and Bucky — or, well, no, he does know, it's just because they'd been the closest (literally) at the time. If he's being honest, he's still not sure what to make of the guy, but he trusts Natasha and he trusts Steve, and they're generally good judges of character. Where the us vs. them is concerned, it's not like he hasn't had his own sort of tango with the question of what brings a person over from one side of the line to the other — he'd brought Natasha in, after all.

The beach blanket gets a laugh — genuine, for whatever that's worth — as Clint takes it, holding it up briefly to get a look at the cheery pattern, slightly diminished by age. ]

You sure you don't mind parting with this?

[ It's the closest he's going to get to saying an outright thanks. He needs the thing, anyway, considering the fact that he is currently dressed for New York in summer (i.e. not hero-ing gear), if also accessorized with a bow and quiver. ]

[trusted]

[Steve and Natasha are terrible judges of character so far as Bucky's concerned. The problem is people expecting him to be what he was which, even now he remembers it, is such a distant thing, and there's so much blood between then and now that any good man he was must've drowned under the flow of it. But Steve's sentimental like that and Natasha-

Well, he'd say the same, only not out loud.

But at the same time as they're terrible judges when it comes to him, he trusts their opinion on others - more or less - at least enough to let the people they put their faith in make their own impressions.]

Well, I was going to wear it as a cape, but-

[Yeah, he's still not sure about the uniforms, although he guesses he's in no position to talk. Gloves in the summertime get almost as many strange looks as a metal arm.

He glances sideways at the iceblue world outside. It makes him feel like a museum exhibit or something, looking out through glass. And if it brings back any particular memories, he doesn't say, but Steve's going to find this ironic.]

I'm used to the cold.

[It makes his bones ache, but he's used to it. So: practicalities.] Got a phone? [He's been given one but keeps leaving it places. It feels a bit too much like being on a leash.]

[antes]

[ At that, Clint taps his belt. ]

Pager.

[ Which is somewhat less helpful, really, though he still offers it to the other man. (Kate's been on his case about it before, but— it works. Don't fix what ain't broke, or something like that.) Whatever his reservations are, he's proved fairly easy-going, if never at the expense of his work.

The similarity between their current circumstances and the nature of an exhibit window doesn't escape him, but, likewise, he doesn't make any comment. His own experiences don't quite line up with Bucky's, anyhow — where display is concerned, the extent of his personal involvement only goes so far as hitting targets as part of a carnival act. ]

You got matches or anything like that? [ he continues, brow wrinkling as he takes another look at the ice surrounding them. ]

I don't wanna be trivial about the value of the plant life here, but— we're gonna need more than a beach towel.

[trusted]

[Yeah... it's less helpful, though Bucky looks down at the thing, turns it over. He's pretty sure he was never issued one of these: even Cold War Russia had more efficient lines of contact. Do these things even dial out? Might as well tie a note to a pigeon (well, it worked back during the big one).

He hands the pager back, raises a gloved hand and rubs thumb and finger together, thoughtfully.]

I could probably get up a few sparks.

[...Psych. There's a lighter tucked against the pager when he hands it back, some kind of sleight of hand at play.]

What I'm trying to figure is whether digging us out's gonna wind up burying us first. [One small summer house. A whole lot of ice. Getting through the latter without turning the former into an oversized slushie is going to be the tricky part.]