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kathierif_ficTitle: Survival
Author: kathierif_fic :)
Fandom: Avengers
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Oh no, not mine.
Summary: Life after the zombie apocalypse.
A/Ns: because I couldn't stop thinking about the age-old question, "What do survivors of a zombie apocalypse eat?" Just a brief drabble-ish thing.
"What's for dinner?" Tony asked with a half-grimace as he slid onto the rickety chair at their dinner table, covered in maps and plans and pieces of electronics.
"Potatoes, and whatever you've caught," Clint replied as he leaned across Tony's shoulder to place a plate in front of him. "Rabbit stew."
He stayed right behind Tony and let his hands fall onto Tony's shoulders in a rough caress, the leather of his gloves dark with dirt and age.
It didn't matter. Tony's t-shirt was just as dirt-stained, his leather jacket had a long rip in one sleeve, and he leaned into the touch with a soft sigh. His muscles were tense under Clint's hands.
"Anything new?" Clint asked with an affectionate squeeze to Tony's shoulders, but the dejected look in Tony's eyes when he'd come in had told him everything he'd needed to know.
"Nothing," Tony replied softly. "No news from Steve and Bruce."
"They're fine, Stark," Clint promised. "You don't think a horde of bloodthirsty zombies can keep Cap or the Other Guy down."
"No," Tony admitted, no doubt in his voice. If there was one thing Clint admired about him, it was the fact that Tony believed in his teammates with all his heart, more than he believed in himself sometimes. "Bruce and Cap can take care of themselves."
Clint chuckled and leaned down, to press a kiss against the top of Tony's head. "Perimeter's safe?"
"As long as the solar collectors hold up," Tony mumbled. "We need most of the energy for Bruce's lab."
Clint knew that. He knew that Tony was doing his best to keep them safe here, that Bruce was working tirelessly on a cure for the virus that had attacked more than ninety-five percent of the population, that it came to Steve, Natasha and Clint himself to keep their home, as temporary as it was, secure and make sure that they had something to eat.
For Clint, it meant utilizing his bow to hunt.
For Natasha, it meant finding conserves and other non-perishables left behind in the city.
For Steve, it meant using his strength to build barricades to hide behind, to work the fields of corn, vegetables and potatoes they had put down in Central Park, to lift and carry for Tony when there were things to be lifted and carried.
For all of them, it meant doing what they could to survive.
Author: kathierif_fic :)
Fandom: Avengers
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Oh no, not mine.
Summary: Life after the zombie apocalypse.
A/Ns: because I couldn't stop thinking about the age-old question, "What do survivors of a zombie apocalypse eat?" Just a brief drabble-ish thing.
"What's for dinner?" Tony asked with a half-grimace as he slid onto the rickety chair at their dinner table, covered in maps and plans and pieces of electronics.
"Potatoes, and whatever you've caught," Clint replied as he leaned across Tony's shoulder to place a plate in front of him. "Rabbit stew."
He stayed right behind Tony and let his hands fall onto Tony's shoulders in a rough caress, the leather of his gloves dark with dirt and age.
It didn't matter. Tony's t-shirt was just as dirt-stained, his leather jacket had a long rip in one sleeve, and he leaned into the touch with a soft sigh. His muscles were tense under Clint's hands.
"Anything new?" Clint asked with an affectionate squeeze to Tony's shoulders, but the dejected look in Tony's eyes when he'd come in had told him everything he'd needed to know.
"Nothing," Tony replied softly. "No news from Steve and Bruce."
"They're fine, Stark," Clint promised. "You don't think a horde of bloodthirsty zombies can keep Cap or the Other Guy down."
"No," Tony admitted, no doubt in his voice. If there was one thing Clint admired about him, it was the fact that Tony believed in his teammates with all his heart, more than he believed in himself sometimes. "Bruce and Cap can take care of themselves."
Clint chuckled and leaned down, to press a kiss against the top of Tony's head. "Perimeter's safe?"
"As long as the solar collectors hold up," Tony mumbled. "We need most of the energy for Bruce's lab."
Clint knew that. He knew that Tony was doing his best to keep them safe here, that Bruce was working tirelessly on a cure for the virus that had attacked more than ninety-five percent of the population, that it came to Steve, Natasha and Clint himself to keep their home, as temporary as it was, secure and make sure that they had something to eat.
For Clint, it meant utilizing his bow to hunt.
For Natasha, it meant finding conserves and other non-perishables left behind in the city.
For Steve, it meant using his strength to build barricades to hide behind, to work the fields of corn, vegetables and potatoes they had put down in Central Park, to lift and carry for Tony when there were things to be lifted and carried.
For all of them, it meant doing what they could to survive.