Fandom Oneshots [Mainly Marvel, Sherlock, and Good Omens, and House MD]

Marvel: (Frosthawk) "You Could Call It That"

Stark had his good ideas, battle plans, and restaurants to eat at, Stark was Clint's man when boredom pushed him onto his ass, but Clint didn't exactly jump on Stark's train of thoughts this time. He was a brother to Clint, (another one of course) but dancing was not the archer's favorite activity when coming to his free time being thrown around like confetti. Then again, he did have the urge to pull something on his good captain or even the train driver himself. 

The Avengers was a hard job, of course, he constantly imagined the scars that would adore his arms like tattoos of war, he wasn't an adrenaline junkie yet he also would choke at the boredom that came with days and day of repetitive training with Natasha kicking his ass. (Thinking about it, he would come to realize he got kicked on the buttocks in several means... a lot)

What compelled Clint to answer started with a "What?" from Steve, who cocked his head to the side, his eyes shone as if he were a puppy dog that was waiting for the call to take them for a walk.

"C'mon! A gala? Masks and ya'know." Tony grinned, his hands out as if he were asking for a hug (that would be impossible) and his shoulders were scrunched up, like his left eyebrow that was furrowed up. The expression he brought to the world only gave others an urge to smile back. What was strange was Stark was genuinely wanting to go, his cocoa-brown eyes sparkled with a child-like glint that came only from the engineer's deepest part of his heart. 

Bruce, who sat on the couch a few feet away from the three Avengers, could only sigh as his head turned back to the StarkPhone and the digital blueprint that hover over the surface of the sleek screen. Tony kept his arms and shoulders in the same positions, spinning on his heels to turn to the expensive couch.

"Excuse me?" Tony laughed. Bruce turned back, sliding his glasses back, holding the glasses' bridge before glaring into the Italian's eyes. "Any problems?" 

"I swear to god." Bruce sighed. "I'm not socializing still." He stated, shaking his head to Tony, who pumped his fist before turning to Steve. Steve nodded, he wanted to see Tony's immature smile again. 

What ended up was a Clint that had his eyebrows furrowed in a 'V' shape and a doubtful expression. He looked at the mask and suit that was of a white color palette. He glanced at Stark, who smiled at him with a grin. He asked Tony why the color and ended up sounding like he was a teenage girl complaining to her mom about style choices. Clint could only frown at the white outfit and red bow-tie as he switched into the stylized clothing. He glanced in the mirror and gave a small 'day-um' to himself as he fixed the red bow.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." A signature voice echoed the ballroom, the billionaire himself. Clint took a glance up and saw an unmasked Tony that stood in a simple black suit with a microphone in his right hand and champagne in the left. The whole room could tell Tony was to make a short speech with laughs and giggles, drop the microphone, and get on his lavish suit and mask of a chosen color. What they all guessed was the right answer (though what surprised them was everyone toasting and screaming of the song 'Satisfied' and 'My Shot')

After the announcement, Clint noted the Norse God who was sauntering towards him. He waved to the short-haired blonde that had a smile on his face. "Eye of Hawk!" Thor laughed as Clint gave Thor a grin back. 

"Good to see you." Clint said, he hadn't seen the Thunder God for ages since he became 'all mighty king' of one of the nine realms.

"Agreed. Asgard has been in the workings until now." Thor replied, throwing a look over his shoulders and looking quite troubled. "I should visit the captain, I need to tell him something." Thor turned to the archer, giving him a reassuring look, flying off to see--again blond--Steve.

That was the white-clad archer to walk around, flirting with people and munching on treats. In no time, Clint heard a sound of slow-paced melodies. Music. It was time to dance. His head swiveled around to find a man in a black suit and similar feathery mask. He gazed up from his elegant drink to see the younger Barton staring at him. He chuckled and walked over, making sure to let the tails of his suit wave smoothly as his dress shoes tapped the ground.

"It seems like everybody has a partner... would you--" Clint studied the taller man, who chuckled. "--like to dance?" Clint nodded, before being whisked away from the sidelines and felt his swift hands in the paler hands of the dark-haired man.

The dance seemed to go on, however, Clint felt time slip through his fingers which held his partner's hand softly. The two stood closer and closer, but the blonde never watched the mask with feathers that flapped to the movements. He felt a tug of wonder and the race of curiosity as he finally traced the body of the man and meet his eyes. Blue. 

He remembered the tail of the suit that fluttered as if it were silk. Long hair of satin that adored a raven black which shined with a warm yellow glow to the crystal chandeliers. The mask of black feathers that of a smooth transition from one to another, shielding the pale face underneath delicately. Which all were to form a statue of gold with silver vines that climbed his body of Clint's brown orbs in awe. The low genuine chuckle that caressed Clint's heart and adolescent hormones.

"Have you ever had someone pick your brain and play? Pull you out, stuff something else in. Do you know what it's like to be unmade?" The sinister grin flicked on the elegant face and 'Loki' repeated in his mind like a mantra.

His mind echoed the screams of adrenaline and fear that sent freezing spikes down his spine and the shivers caused the god to pull the archer into a room of velvet ropes that lined the rooftop corners and draped down and swooped up in 'U' shapes that lined the four walls.

"Loki." The whisper from Clint's mouth came out low and almost deadly. He stepped back before he glared into Loki's blue eyes. He felt something, a flash of blue washed over him, giving him a headache, pain stabbing his sides and he recognized the feeling of control that he was losing. Loki stepped forward, placing his hand on the broad shoulder of the archer. Clint saw the green flame that floated over the delicate hand like a firefly, twist around and shift to a bright blue. After a few seconds, he gripped his hand and winced, a small pile of blue dust that he let fall to the ground.

"Tonight, I needed to do it." Loki sighed, which Clint spun around to face the god. The control seeping from the hands of Loki to his brain again. He felt control return. But something remained. Loki spun on his heels and took a long stride to the ballroom before Clint grasped his hand on Loki's arm and took a step forward himself.

He crashed his lips on Loki's and he pulled him closer by grabbing the suit's edges. Loki's blue eyes widened and he melted into the kiss, scolding himself for it. Ticking echoed in the room but the sounds that echoed through the ones kissing were the sound of something else. 

The need for control. 

Clint broke away, panting for air, looking at Loki, who surprisingly, chuckled. He took off his suit and mask, giving Clint a look at his delicate expressions that formed for emotions of any kind. 

"Goddamnit." Clint looked at his hands, he felt a sweetness flood the inside of his mouth and he licked his lips.

"I believe that is Stockholm Syndrome." Loki chuckled.

"I guess you could call it that." Clint shrugged, leaned closer, placing his hand on the chest of Loki. He fiddled with his bow-tie and chucked off his own mask along with his suit jacket that he threw next to Loki's black one and he noted the black and white colors that splatter the ground in a messy pile of cloth.

"Helsinki Syndrome," Loki stated. Clint chuckled along with the mischievous god before he shook his head. 

"Something else."