So I had another test. A psychology test. It seems I’ve found a nice way to channel my test anxiety. By shoving it on my favorite fictional characters. And Clint seems to be a recurring choice.
I’m in the very very basic of all Psych classes so this is nothing particularly impressive. At all.
It’s 1.36AM and I have to be up in four and a half hours so I’m just going to stop talking.
This hasn’t been proofread at all, so do enjoy my horrible excuse for fic.
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“I don’t know what a behavioral display is,” Clint said, letting out a frustrated sigh.
“Yes you do, Clint,” Bruce said reassuringly. “Just think about it for a second. Behavioral display.”
“Uhhh…body language?”
“Correct,” Bruce said with a smile. He removed his shoes and put them to the side. “Next question: observational learning.”
Clint scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s…it’s learning by imi..tation?”
“Correct.” Bruce pulled his socks off and stuffed them into his shoes. “Who is considered the father of psychology?”
“Ah, Wilhelm Wundt,” Clint said, proud of himself.
Bruce smirked and pushed his hoodie off his shoulders, letting it fall around him. “Correct. What is the chemical in your brain involved in sleep and depression?”
“Uhhh…Sodium Chloride?”
Bruce huffed in disbelief. “Sodium Chloride, Clint? That is salt.”
Clint raised an eyebrow as he watched Bruce put his hoodie back on. “Is it serotonin?”
“Right.” Bruce pushed his hoodie off again.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“With your clothes. Why are you doing that?”
“I’m not doing anything,” Bruce said innocently. “Just helping you learn psychology. What’s operant conditioning?”
Clint stared at his friend suspiciously. “I don’t know that one.”
“Yes you do, it’s in your notes.”
Clint flipped through his notebook. “Operant conditioning? Learned association between behavior and its results or consequences.”
“Correct,” Bruce said with a teasing smirk and pulled off his t-shirt.
Clint stared and you could see the gears turning in his head.
“You bastard,” he said, then paused. “What happens if I pass the exam?”
“You get a kiss.”
“A kiss? That’s it? You’re going to strip for me when I study but all I get for passing the exam is a kiss?”
“Well I never said it’d be on your mouth.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Clint spluttered. “Who taught you to talk like that?”
“I’ve known you for a long time, Clint. Now, what do you think you get for an A?”
Clint smirked, “I’m guessing it involves a bed?”
“Correct,” Bruce said, getting to his knees and undoing his belt.
Solid Mercury again. Original post.
Fic | Clint is not a Valentine’s kind of guy. G Clint&Bruce
Clint glared at the sheet of paper, growled at it, crumpled it up and then tossed it at the opposing wall. He didn’t hate Valentines, really- it just wasn’t his thing. He wasn’t that kind of person, truth be told. And, he suspected, neither was Bruce (unless it came to Betty, because she was still his world.)
Because I can.
Clint hollowed his cheeks and felt Bruce’s hands scrambling for purchase in his hair, letting out a long deep moan and pushing himself further down Clint’s throat.
Clint pulled back, swirling his tongue over the head, tasting the sweet bitterness and the tang of metal. Bruce’s grip only tightened as Clint toyed with the piercing.
Clint knew that under Bruce’s carefully calm nerdy exterior he would be a kinky bastard.
He was going to have so much fun with that.

When I have a monumentally bad weekend, I take it out on fictional people.

Two ravens in an old oak tree
One for you and one for me
Bluebells in the late December
I see signs now all the time
The last time we slept together
There was something that was not there
You never wanted to alarm me
But I’m the one that’s drowning now