#HE might not know. like barton would really be out here doing the 'IDK' shrug while you show him this demented collage he made

[mad-hunts]

[arrow-guy]

Talk to Me

Original request from @scrawlingwithstyle: Here's a request I've been sitting on for a bit. ClintxReader; Clint is deaf and most people rely on his lipreading skills, but Reader knows some ASL from when her family thought her autistic younger sibling would never speak (they became vocal close to seven years old). They have secret conversations across the room, thinking no one else on the team understands. . . . They're wrong. Adjust however you like!

A/N: Okay, it’s taken probably close to a year to actually get around to this, but i kind of breezed through writing it? And it was a whole bunch of fun to finally put down in a document. I didn’t change much about your request, but I definitely added to it, and made it a little romantic? Idk if it’ll come off as romance, it’s kind of goofy (it’s Clint, there needs to be a goof somewhere.) I really hope you like it, though!!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: ClintxReader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: None

“Are you sure about this, Bruce?” I ask. “Ross let me go as soon as you went AWOL. I haven’t worked with people like this in years.”

“Of course I’m sure! You were the best back in the day.”

“Back in the day,” I laugh. “You make it sound like we’re ancient.”

“We’re not as young as we used to be,” he says. “But that’s the point. You’ll bring some much needed experience to the table.”

“But I’m not a spy and I definitely don’t have any powers.”

“Trust me, (Y/N), superpowers are not all they’re cracked up to be, and both spies have long since ceased their spying activities.” I cock one eyebrow and he laughs. “For the most part.”

“Saying a spy stopped being a spy is like saying you misplaced the hulk.”

“Ah, very true.”

“I’ll do it, though.”

“You will?”

“Well I can’t very well leave you to fend for yourself, now can I? As it stands, I’m already a shitty friend, working together can’t hurt things.”

Bruce grins and grips my shoulder. “I’ll see you Monday, then.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t fight back my smile. “Do I need to pack a bag, or will I be allowed to go home at the end of the day?”

“Not sure yet. Might as well bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush just in case.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you Monday.”

“I can’t believe you actually pulled it off, Banner,” Stark says. “You wrangled a counselor for the team?”

“What,” I say. “Like it was supposed to be hard?”

Bruce laughs and reaches out to place his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve known (Y/N) for just about as long as I can remember. I’m sure she’ll be a good fit.”

“As long as you can remember, huh?” I look past Captain Rogers and find a sandy haired man. He grins when I meet his eyes. “Just how long?”

I bob my head from side to side. “Somewhere between twenty years and most of our lives.”

He whistles. “Pretty long time, then.”

“Mhm.”

Bruce clears his throat. “I’m sure (Y/N) wants to see where she’ll be working, so I’ll just show her to her office.”

Everyone in the boardroom waves and Bruce leads me out of the room. As soon as we’re out in the hall I sigh and bow my head, finally able to let my shoulders relax.

“That was a lot.”

Bruce chuckles. “Trust me, it’ll either get worse or stay exactly the same as time goes on, depending on who you’re talking to.”

“The blond guy who spoke up, that’s Hawkeye, right?”

“Clint Barton, yeah.”

“Will I be seeing much of him?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t really know much about the guy. He seems pretty happy-go-lucky and stable most of the time, though.”

“Huh.” I shrug and hitch my bag a little higher on my shoulder. “You never know with some people.”

“True. I’m sure you’ll deal with him at least once more after this. He’s the curious type.”

“I guess I’ll have to look forward to that, then.”

Bruce hummed in agreement and leads me to the elevator bank and takes me down to what will eventually be my office. He gives me a basic rundown of the facilities and shows me which restroom is closest to my office. I ask for a baseline reading on everyone on the team and Bruce rattles off what he’s noticed about the main five.

“Steve will most likely drop by to make small talk, but it may take some time for him to open up in any way that counts. Tony will joke about therapy, but once he warms up to you it’ll be impossible to get him to leave.”

“Oof, that bad?”

“He’s long-winded.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to enforce appointments with him when he starts to take interest.”

“Probably wise.”

“And Natasha?”

“I doubt you’ll see much of her. She has her ways of working through her issues on her own.”

“Do they involve murder?”

“Don’t know, and I don’t care to.”

“Got it. None of our business. I’ll let her come to me if she needs anything.” I plop down behind my new desk. “What about Thor?”

“Who knows. He shows up when he wants and tends to be a pretty jovial guy.”

“Ah. Is there anyone else outside of the tower I can expect?”

“Wanda, Sam, and Rhodey will be around from time to time. If Steve has his way, Bucky will move in at some point, and Wanda is currently in the process of moving into the tower, so you may see her more after that. I’m not sure how often she’ll drop by. She’s fairly private due to her powers.”

“Energy manipulation, right?”

He nods. “That, and other mind tricks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But that just leaves Clint, and we’ve already gone over what you can expect from him.”

“It doesn’t just leave Clint, Bruce.” I fold my hands on the desktop. “I expect to see you in here at least once a week. Ideally twice.”

Bruce scowls. “(Y/N), you know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, well, I listen to your opinions on that stuff when I’m just your friend. Now I’m your therapist, and you’re going to listen to me because I know what works for you. So I expect you to get your pasty ass in here when you’re scheduled.”

“You’re making appointments for me now?”

“Until I’m sure you’ll come to me on your own, yes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Send me the schedule. I’ll see you at my appointed time.”

“Wonderful.” I relax my shoulders, letting my professional mask slip. “Thanks for this, Bruce. I mean it.”

“I know you do.” He cracks a smile. “You’re the only person I trust to get to the root of our issues.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll try not to let you down.”

“Believe me, (Y/N), if anyone’s gonna let me down, it’ll be the team.” I laugh and he heads for the door. “I’ll see you later. Good luck with your first day.”

“Thanks, Bruce. I’ll see you later!”

“So, (Y/N),” Tony says, spreading out on the couch across from my chair. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah, what makes you tick? What motivates you to try and heal the fragile minds of the Avengers?”

“I’d say a decent paycheck is a pretty good motivator, Mr. Stark.”

He seems disappointed with my answer. “Is that it?”

“Well, that, and I want to make sure Bruce is doing alright. He’s struggled with therapy in the past, and I want to make sure he’s getting the kind of help that he needs.”

“I see.” He presses his lips together and folds his arms. “You’re not even curious about the rest of the team?”

“Of course I’m curious, but nothing discussed in this tower will be shared with anyone outside. I take my patients privacy very seriously.”

“You sure you don’t just fear for your life?”

“Living in New York, I fear for my life constantly. That doesn’t mean that I’m worried about getting merced if I get a little loose lipped outside of work.” I sigh and lean back in my chair. “That being said, I won’t be sharing your confidential information with anyone you haven’t specifically given authorized access to your records.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. It’s almost like I’m a professional, right?”

He smiles. “I’m really starting to like you, (Y/N).”

“Then I guess I have a lot more of this to look forward to, then, don’t I?”

I laughs and hauls himself up from the couch. “We’ll see.”

I make a note of his response in my open document. “Sounds like a tentative yes to me, Mr. Stark, and I’ll be here so long as you deem my services necessary.”

He nods and exits my office. He leaves the door open.

“How are you liking it here so far, (Y/N)?”

“It’s been quiet, Captain Rogers. It’s a bit like pulling teeth trying to get anyone to make use of their resources.”

“I guess it would be. We’re a relatively private bunch.” He pauses a moment. “And, please, call me Steve.”

“Right, Steve. Is there anything that I can do for you today?” I ask. “It’s entirely alright if you just want to make small talk.”

“Oh, well, uh…” He awkwardly clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “I guess I just wanted to get a lay of the land.”

“I understand.” I glance around my office. “I should probably bring in some art and plants. Make it a little less sterile in here.”

Steve laughs. “That might help.”

I smile. “Maybe an area rug?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you think would be best.”

“I appreciate the creative freedom.” I close my laptop, set it to the side, and settle back in my chair. “Is there something on your mind, Steve?”

“No,” he says quickly. He immediately looks conflicted. “I… well, kind of.”

“Feel free to speak. Nothing you say will leave this office.”

“You hardly know me.”

I shrug. “I know how stressful this environment can be. And, while your team is very good at what they do, they’re also the ones who are causing your stress.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I watch him chew the inside of his cheek. “I guess I’m just concerned that things might not get better, even when Bucky’s moved in.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I’m worried that it might not be a good fit for him, or that the team won’t accept him, or that he might not even want to be around me.”

“Those are all valid concerns. Have you mentioned any of this to him?”

“God no. I don’t want to stress him out more than I already have with all of this moving business.”

“I might suggest bringing it up. He might be having similar worries himself, and, as helpful as it is to work towards what’s troubling you with me, I won’t be able to settle your nerves.”

“Maybe you’re right…”

“If nothing else, it might open up a new line of communication between the two of you, which couldn’t hurt.”

Steve stays for another hour, just talking. When he leaves, he asks if I want the door open or closed. I don’t give him a definite answer and he leaves it open, just a crack. I laugh and start on his profile.

Someone knocks on my door and I glance up from my paperwork to see Clint standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Barton,” I say. “I was wondering when I might see you.”

He shrugs. “Here I am.”

“After two weeks, I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“If I was?”

“Then it’s none of my business.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “I like that answer.”

I rise from my desk and gesture to the couch. He raises his eyebrows, but takes a seat anyway. I sit across from him and watch as he tries to decide just how he should sit. In the end, he leans heavily on his knees. Nothing about him is relaxed.

“I’m starting to think Bruce was wrong about you.”

“What’d the green bean tell you about me?”

“Nothing concrete,” I answer. “He just mentioned that you seem to have a positive outlook on things most of the time.”

He snorts. “Great.”

“Mmm, I see. It’s a facade, then?”

He frowns and presses a finger to his right ear. “Could you say that again?”

“I said, it’s a facade, then?”

“Sometimes.”

I nod. “Interesting.”

He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, interesting.”

I watch him look around the room, examining the art on the walls and the stacks of paper on my desk. When he turns his head to the left, I notice his purple earpiece and something suddenly clicks. He tilts his head to the side when he sees me staring.

“What?”

“Would it be easier if we signed?” I ask, signing along as I speak.

He looks surprised. “You sign?”

I laugh. “Yes. My little brother is on the Autism spectrum. When he was a kid, he was almost entirely nonverbal. Mom taught him sign, and the rest of the family learned along with him.”

“That must’ve been really nice for him.”

“It was nice to be able to communicate with him when he couldn’t vocalize what he wanted to say. He eventually started speaking when he was about seven, though.”

“And you still held onto the signing skills?”

“Of course! It’s not like he just, bam, started talking. It was a long process, and he still has nonverbal days sometimes.” Clint starts to actually smile and it warms my heart. “It’s come in handy in my particular line of work too. Deaf and hard of hearing folks need counsellors and therapists too.”

“Which brings the topic of conversation back to me.” He shakes his head and leans back against the couch and signs, “You’re a tricky one, (Y/N).”

“I’m not tricky!”

“Then what?”

“I’m accommodating.” I speak again, but continue to sign along. “You don’t have to tell me everything, or anything, really. But I’m here to help, if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Clint. Any time.”

“Seems like you and Clint are getting close,” Bruce says.

“I don’t know what you mean, man.”

“He’s in here all the time, (Y/N). There’s no way Barton needs therapy five times a week.”

“It’s not always about therapy, Bruce. I strive to make my office a safe space where everyone knows that they can speak freely. He knows that he can come here and chill out without worrying about the rest of the team.”

“Barton doesn’t really worry about anything, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Bruce stares at me, eyes narrowed, and snaps his fingers. "You like him."

I roll my eyes. "I do not like him, Bruce. And you're not even here to talk about Clint, you're here to work on yourself and managing your stress levels."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm sure there's something we could talk about aside from me."

I sigh and hold my head in my hands. "I've been here for two months. I haven't been around long enough to form anything more than tentative relationships with the rest of the team. I'm more concerned about whether or not they can open up to me than I am with my love life."

“Right,” Bruce clears his throat.

“Thank you.” He looks thoroughly ashamed and I have to laugh. “I appreciate the interest, but it’s just not something that you need to worry about.”

“No, I understand.” He smiles and shrugs. “I guess I just miss having that easy rapport with you.”

“I mean, we still have that, Bruce. It’s just not something that I want to talk about in the workplace. It’s one thing to shoot the shit over lunch on a Saturday, it’s another to discuss my patients with another patient, all of whom are my coworkers.”

“I didn’t think about it like that.”

I smile. “It’s fine. Did you want to pick up where we left off on Tuesday?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“(Y/N)?”

I’m startled by the woman in the doorway. “Ms. Romanoff?”

She shakes her head and steps into my office. “As long as you’re not a government official, it’s just Natasha.”

“Ah, right.” I sit a little straighter in my chair. “What can I do for you, Natasha?”

“Clint’s said you’ve helped him a lot.”

“I don’t know about that. We just talk. He does all the helping.”

“I figured you’d say that.” She moves quickly across the room and takes a seat on the couch. “I’d like to talk to you, if you have the time.”

“Oh.” I scramble up from my desk to sit across from her. “What about?”

“I need help working through a recent case.”

“Are you sure I’m qualified for that?”

“Well, you said Clint does all the helping. Maybe what I need is a sounding board.”

“Fair enough. Where are you caught up?”

Natasha rattles off the details of a recent mission. I do my best to follow her, but she loses me when she starts explaining the intricacies of a piece of Hydra technology they discovered. Eventually, she perks up, almost looking like she wants to jump up from her seat and run from the room.

“I think I’ve got it.”

“That’s great!”

She calmly gets to her feet and walks to the door. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

I shake my head. “It was my pleasure.”

“Even so, you helped me.” She flashes me an unexpected smile. “I appreciate that.”

“It’s not a problem, Natasha. I hope that we can speak again at some point.”

She nods and heads for the door. “I’ll see you around.”

In the hall I hear, “Oh, hey, Nat.” and Clint pokes his head in soon after.

I smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He leans in the doorway and folds his arms. “What’d Nat dump on you?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality, Barton,” I say. “I can’t tell you.”

His arms fall to his side and he dramatically slumps into the room. “I thought you trusted me!”

I laugh. “I do trust you, Clint. But it’s not my information to give.” He drapes himself across the couch and grins at the sight of me fighting back my smile. “If it were, Bruce would have full access to what we talk about in our sessions.”

“That’s private information, (Y/N)!” He laughs. “I see your point.”

“Good.”

“Did you want to grab lunch later? That weird little cafe down the street started serving some kind of coffee burger.”

“Ugh, and you want to eat that?”

“(Y/N), it’s a coffee burger.”

“With all the heinous shit you put in your body, it’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

“If you think I’m bad, you should meet my dog.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s been four months, Clint. If I haven’t run for the hills yet, I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna happen for a while yet.”

Something twinkles in his eyes. “That’s good to hear. I was worried I might scare you off.”

“If anyone were to scare me off, it’d be Tony.” I shake my head. “That man is a handful.”

“What happened to patient confidentiality?”

“Since when is Tony being a handful a secret?” He laughs and I relax in my seat. “But, yeah, I’ll get lunch with you.”

“Really?”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t keel over from physically eating coffee.”

“Oh come on! It’s not like they solidified the coffee and stuck it on a bun!”

“How do you know they didn’t? Maybe they turned the coffee into jello, passed it through a meat grinder, and threw it on a griddle.”

His face scrunches up in disgust. “Ugh, that’d just be burnt coffee.”

“I’ve watched you drink an entire pot of burnt coffee.”

“Desperate times, (Y/N). They call for desperate measures.”

I sigh and shake my head. ”I guess it’s fine, so long as you’re not addicted to caffeine pills.”

“Those don’t do anything for me.”

“That’s terrifying.”

He laughs, hauls himself up from the couch, and offers me a hand. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Head out for lunch.”

“Now? I thought you said later.”

“It’s been like five minutes. It’s later now.”

I laugh. “I can’t just go now. I have an appointment with Steve in twenty minutes. We can leave after that.”

He pouts. “Fine.”

“Don’t give me that look, Clint!”

He sighs and trudges towards the door. “I guess I’ll just have to make a reservation for one thirty.”

“That’d be great.”

He flashes a brilliant smile before disappearing out into the hall. I shake my head and move back to my desk.

“That man is gonna get me in trouble.”

“I thought you said you weren’t involved with Clint?”

“I’m not, Bruce.”

“Then what’s this?” He places his phone on my keyboard.

I pick up the phone and find an article titled “Hawkeye’s New Flame, or Just a Fling?” pulled up. A picture of Clint and I at lunch the other day sits just below a paragraph speculating who I could be. I snort and hand him his phone.

“Clint and I went to lunch. That’s all.” I sit back and fold my arms. “What’s the problem, Bruce?”

“I don’t want you getting dragged into some kind of media storm because you work with us.”

“It’s one article!”

“There’s at least four more like it that I’ve seen.”

“I’m not worried about it, Bruce. Clint just went out for lunch and some pap caught us talking. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it, but I can’t stop people from talking.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“No one should have to deal with anyone plastering their personal life all over the internet, but you know what? I’d rather get caught out in public with Clint than Tony.” I laugh. “Can you imagine the shitstorm that’d kick up if that happened?”

Bruce tries not to laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

“It was bound to get out that the Avengers brought in a counsellor at some point. It’s better that it’s like this instead of some media outlet picking up a rumor and deciding that you’re all unstable.”

“Well…”

“I’m not saying you’re the most sane bunch, but that’s no one’s business but yours. Regardless, don’t worry about this. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” He pockets his phone. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Of course I would, Bruce. If something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

I sit on the floor of the gym and lift the collar of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face.

Clint plops down on the floor beside me and tips his head to the side.

“Definitely didn’t expect to find you in here,” he says.

“What, I can’t work out?” I groan and lay back. “Ugh.”

“You okay?”

“No. I knew I should’ve just stuck to the treadmill.”

“What’d you do to yourself?”

“Weights.”

He laughs. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know. Is wanting to be able to lift a very large dog a good reason?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a bad reason.” He lays beside me and props himself up on his elbow. “I could help you, if you want.”

“I don’t know how I feel about being all sweaty gross around you.”

He pokes my stomach and I laugh and shift away. “I don’t know, (Y/N), sweaty’s the new sexy.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” I laugh and scrunch my nose. “Also kind of gross.”

“Sweet and kind of gross, I think you’ve pretty much summed me up perfectly.” I laugh so hard that I snort and he grins. “So, do you want help working out?”

I press my fist to my mouth to quiet my giggling. “If you’re willing to, I really would appreciate it.”

“Then it’s a done deal.” I thank him and his smile softens. “Sorry about those articles last week, by the way.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I should’ve warned you, at least. I’m used to it, but you didn’t sign up for pap shots and gossip columns when you took this job.”

I scowl. “Honestly, Clint. If you’re not gonna read my lips, read my hands. It’s totally fine. I don’t care. I had a nice time at lunch. A few dumb articles won’t change that.”

“You mean that?”

“Well, yeah. I like spending time with you outside of all of this,” I say, gesturing to the tower in general. “With, y’know, no expectations of maintaining all of the professional bullshit.”

“Pretty sure you’re the most professional one here.”

“Thanks, I’m glad that comes across in the day to day, but do you understand what I’m saying? Like I genuinely do not care about what a shitty news outlet says. At the end of the day, the only opinions that matter are ours.” I sigh and settle on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Sounds like we��re not the only ones who need therapy.”

I hum. “Maybe I do.”

“No shame in it.”

I smile at him. “I know.” I sit up and get to my feet. “It’s getting late, I should head out.”

“You’re in tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around till noon. I’ve got a wedding later in the day.”

“Not yours, right?”

I laugh. “No, definitely not mine.”

“Cool,” He smiles up at me. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Since when do we have staff meetings?” Clint asks.

“Since we brought on a counselor,” Tony says.

I frown. “I’ve been here six months and I’ve never been to any kind of meeting.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you brought that up and just keep moving with the meeting.”

I snort and shoot Clint a look. He laughs and signs for me to stop. I wave him off and turn my attention back to the head of the table.

Tony rambles on for about half an hour before Steve cuts in and the two of them start going back and forth. They bicker for twenty minutes before Thor swans in, greeting everyone with his bright, booming voice. I was stuck in my office the last time he was on Earth, so our paths never had a chance to cross. Steve takes a moment to introduce the two of us and Thor vigorously shakes my hand, unintentionally jostling me around the whole time. He takes his seat on the other side of Bruce and the conversation picks up again.

I catch Clint’s eye twitching in my peripheral when Thor speaks a little too loudly. I gesture to get his attention and he raises his eyebrows when he meets my eyes.

“You good?” I sign.

He nods. “Can’t pay attention to save my life in these meetings.”

“I’ve never known anyone to compliment your attention span.”

He mouths, “Oh, ha ha,” and I laugh.

“You’re mean, (Y/N).”

“And here I thought you liked me.”

“Never said I didn’t.” He grins. “The way things are going, I’d say you’re probably just my type.”

I shake my head and hide my smile behind my hand. “Stop.”

“Aw, you're cute when you're embarrassed." I flip him off and he laughs. “That's a compliment!"

I snort. “Pay attention, Clint.”

We manage to make it through another hour and, by that time, someone has turned off the lights and started giving a presentation. I fold my arms on the table and rest my chin on top and beg myself to stay awake through this meeting. I’m sure it’ll only be a little while longer.

Clint’s hand creeps into my line of sight and he taps the table to get my attention. I shoot him a quizzical look and he lifts his eyebrows.

“You still with us?” he signs.

“No.”

“It’s going longer than I thought it would.”

“I’m honestly about to fall asleep.”

“Aw, (Y/N), no.”

“This is how I go out. Avenge me, Clint.”

“No!”

“It’s your job. You have to.”

“But who will help me through the trauma?”

I cover my mouth to muffle my laughter. “I’d be dead, that’s none of my concern.”

He shakes his head. “And you call yourself my friend.”

Natasha clears her throat, startling me away from the conversation. I try to pay attention to the presentation, but I just can't wrap my head around what they're talking about and Clint easily distracts me again.

"Quick question."

Surprised, I sign, "Shoot."

"Would you want to go out with me?"

My brain stops working for a second. "Wait, what?"

"I said, will you go out with me?"

My heart hammers in my chest. "Like as friends, or on a date?"

He sighs. "We've been hanging out as friends for months now. I'm asking you on a date, stupid."

My face heats and I sit back in my seat. “Oh.”

He laughs. “Did I break you?”

“A little.” I frown.

“Just say yes!”

Startled, I glance up the table, only to find Natasha glaring at Clint and I. Everyone is looking at us and I suddenly want to disappear.

“What’s the problem?” Steve asks.

“I’m sick of watching the two of them flirt with each other,” Natasha says. “You’ve been mooning over each other for months. Just say yes and be done with it.”

“Nat, they haven’t said a single thing since the beginning of the meeting.”

“They’ve been signing at each other the entire meeting.” She looks directly at me and signs, “I see everything.”

“Sorry.”

“Just say yes.” She looks very pointedly between Clint and I. “You’d be good together.”

“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” Bruce says.

“That was months ago, Bruce. Things change.”

“Don’t be hard on her,” Natasha says. “Clint’s an acquired taste.”

“I’m just gonna, um…” I gesture to the door. “I’m just gonna go.”

I see Tony and Steve nod and I shove my chair back from the table and make my escape. The door shuts behind me, and I’m free. I sigh, relieved to be free of the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, only for the embarrassment of having my crush exposed to my coworkers to settle deep in my stomach.

I press my fingertips to my temples and walk down the hallway. “I knew he was gonna get me in trouble.”

I make the decision to just go back to my office. Maybe I can at least get some work done or, at the very least calm down. I turn as the elevator doors close and catch a glimpse of the conference door opening at the end of the hall. I shift slightly so that it’s not in my line of sight.

The elevator ride feels like it’s too long and I immediately flop down on my couch as soon as I’m in my office. I can't get comfortable and shift around until I'm upside down with my legs over the back of the conch, staring at the ceiling. I press the heels of my hands over my eyes and groan out of frustration.

“I left without even answering him,” I mutter.

The door suddenly opens and I freeze, pulling my hands away from my face, waiting for whoever it is to announce themselves.

"(Y/N)?"

"Clint?" I try to sit up and smack my head on the edge of the coffee table. "Shit."

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I rub my forehead and sit up a little more carefully. "I'll live."

He takes a seat on the coffee table and watches intently as I sit upright on the couch and face him. He reaches out and gently touches my forehead, only to jerk his hand back when I wince.

"Sorry."

"Don't, it's fine."

"Okay." He sighs softly and shuffles awkwardly on the table. He stills when I touch his knee and takes my hand in his. "I'm sorry about the meeting. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"Honestly, Clint, you don't need to apologize," I murmur. "I got flustered and then embarrassed when everyone else got involved."

"I know. I probably like pushing your buttons a little too much."

"That's not it."

"But I do push your buttons."

"Yeah, but only 'cause I let you." He smiles and I squeeze his hand. "But I'm a deeply private person. To have Natasha butt in like that, no matter the good she meant by it, really set me on edge."

"I had no idea."

"I don't feel like I have to keep everything close to my chest when I’m with you. You tease me, but it’s never from a place of malice and you know me well enough that you never take it too far.”

“I mean, you give as good as you get.” He doesn’t meet my eyes as he runs his thumb over my knuckles. “But still. I should’ve just asked in private, but you know me.”

“Yeah. You’re sweet, but kind of stupid sometimes. More than a little impulsive. And way too fond of coffee.”

“Aw, I thought that was endearing!” He smiles when I laugh. “The invitation still stands, but you don’t have to say yes.”

“What’re you talking about?” He meets my eyes and I shake my head. “I’m not about to turn you down. You haven’t introduced me to your dog yet.”

“Oh, I get it, you only want me for Lucky.”

“Mhm.”

He shakes his head and kneels on the floor in front of me. “Shoulda known.”

“I know, I’m pure evil.” He grins and takes my face in his hands. “I should be fired, right?”

“Without a doubt.”

I hum softly and lean forward to bump my nose against his. After a moment’s hesitation, Clint closes the distance between us and gently kisses me. I place one hand on his forearm and tilt my head to the side to kiss him back. He smiles against my lips and pulls away, his eyes flitting over my face.

“So… about that dog.”

I have no idea what would happen to them after that, but I’d like to think they’re having a great time, petting dogs and continuing to mess with each other, all whilst falling in love.

I’d love to know what you guys thought of this little one shot. Did you love it, did you hate it? Did you breathe out through your nose a little bc you kind of laughed but also didn’t? Be sure to like, reblog, comment, or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

If you’d like to be tagged in future fics, please let me know!

Tag list:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101, @buckysendoftheline, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @breezy1415, @feelmyroarrrr, @darling-loki​, @lemonadeorange73​, @princess-unicorn124​, @hermionie-is-my-queen​, @tofeartheunknown​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @avengerscompound​

[redstarwriting]

Dimension Hopper

Avengers x Reader

Request: “Hi!! I was wondering if I could request an imagine about a reader from our universe going to the marvel universe?? And she's super smart and strong but like, a little younger than Peter (15). I'm still not over Endgame so can she be confused when everything is normal and the Tony thing didn't happen, and the avengers are confused about why she is so happy about tony, idk just FLUFF PLEASE😊💖“

Word Count: 1,858

Genre: Fluff, Platonic

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, swearing, run on sentences

A/N: Not gonna lie, I got carried away on this one. I might make a part two to it to show just how close the reader gets with the rest of the Avengers in this specific story, and to show that she’s a strong ass girl as well. I already have ideas for it, and I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope y’all enjoy it as well! I’m working on all the other requests I have right now, so if you sent one in I’ll get to it as soon as I can!

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Saying you felt like your heart was ripped out of your chest was an understatement. You’d just seen Endgame, and while you loved it and honestly had an out of body experience during it, Tony died. No more Iron Man in the MCU. Needless to say, you cried your eyes out. Even though he was a fictional character, he was your role model. You, like him, were very interested in engineering and science and things like that. In fact, you understood a lot of what Tony could do, and you’re only fourteen years old. You keep the fact that you can understand all the complicated engineering things that Tony talks about a secret, of course, considering the technology to actually pull off what he can do doesn’t actually exist in this world. You were working on that though. When you weren’t doing your schoolwork or reading comics or watching Marvel movies, you were out in your garage, working to become this world’s Tony Stark.

Needless to say, as soon as your parents park, you hurry to start working on your projects. You’ve already seen Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, and the entire concept of it interested you. Different dimensions, the multiverse, it all was something that seemed to be calling out to you. So, needless to say, you were trying to find a way to travel to other dimensions, only safely. You don’t want to find out what that glitchy thing that happens in Spider-Verse actually feels like. You’re just grateful that your dad happens to own a weapons company, much like another super genius in the universe that you would like to travel to. That’s what allows you to develop and invent all the time. It’s quite convenient, actually. Nevertheless, you’re lost in your work, distracting yourself from your sadness about Tony Stark, and you don’t even realize how much time has passed. It’s a Saturday, and you saw the movie at a one o’clock showing, so you got out of it at around four o’clock, meaning you started working at around five since you went and ate dinner with your parents. Now, it is four in the morning. And you are tired. It’s not the first time you pass out at your crafting table, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Now, you’ve gotten pretty far on the designing and creating of the fancy touch technology that Tony uses in the movies, and you’ve been using it more and more. Laptops and touch screen phones are a thing of the past for you, but you haven’t shared anything you’ve discovered with the world yet. Why, you ask? You’re fourteen. Chances are no one would believe you and they’d probably just say your dad was the one who actually did it, and you’re not about to let the things you designed get credited to someone else, even if he helped create you. With the technology you’ve created though, you can do things that are way beyond thought of on this Earth. And that leads back to the task you have at hand. Dimension hopping. Although you’ve fallen asleep, diagnostics for the machine that will be used to help dimension hop are being run through over and over again. You finished the basics of it, now you just need to find the exact way it will actually work. Lucky for you, a successful way is found. You’re just sleeping when it is. Crazily enough, the program downloaded itself into your watch, and you must have moved around and hit something in your sleep, because you hopped a dimension. The only downside? You were asleep when it happened. So, imagine your shock when you wake up, and everything around you is abandoned. Your machinery and equipment are nowhere to be found. You glance down at your wrist, pulling up information on what the hell is going on from your watch that you designed. “April 28, 2019… but what happened to my lab…?” you mutter, confusion and utter devastation flooding your mind. You think for a second and realize something. What if you’re in a different dimension? You frantically begin typing, trying to figure out what’s happening. Before you can even begin to look at the search results, though, the ceiling behind you gets blasted through. You turn, seeing none other than Iron Man, Tony Stark himself, looking at you. “A kid? You’re the one who caused a surge of energy?” you hear him say, and you just stare at him. “Y-You’re-“

“Rogers, it’s just a kid. She’s not about to harm anyone. She’s not even armed with anything and she literally just woke up… no, believe me Barton, I know what falling asleep while inventing looks like. She’s got it written all over her face. And hair. Yeah, of course you can come in, I already told you she’s harmless.”

Tony steps out of his Iron Suit, looking directly at you, and you literally just stare at him with your mouth wide open. “What’s your name kid?”

“You’re real?! And alive!” you blurt out and Tony just stares at you. “Wha-” You cut Tony off by crushing him in a hug. “Woah! Okay, okay, hey,” he decides to let it happen, but he is pretty confused. Before the embrace is over, Steve Rogers, accompanied by Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton all walk through the door. Through the gigantic hole Tony had previously made in the ceiling flies Thor. You immediately pull back from Tony, and nearly start crying. “Nat’s alive too! Oh my god this is amazing!” You start freaking out, and now they’re all looking at you with a weird expression. “Okay, what’s going on?” Steve asks, approaching you. “You’re not old!”

“No, he’s old, he just looks young,” Tony says, and Steve gives him a look. You laugh, shaking your head. “No I know he’s like 101 years old, but he still looks like 25! He isn’t an old man on the outside!”

“What the hell is going on here, Stark?” Clint asks. “Yes, I am also wondering who this child is and why she is stating that we are all alive when it is obvious that we are all alive,” Thor says. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Tony tells him. “Okay, yeah I can imagine how this is weird but oh my god you guys don’t understand. I watched you guys die and now you’re here and I’m here and you’re all okay and you’re all together again and I’m just so happy you guys are amazing, Tony you’re my literal idol I want to be just like you and I’m so excited I finally get to meet you and I know I’m repeating myself and if this was typed out it would be a huge run on sentence and-”

“Wait, slow down, you watched us die?” Tony interrupts you, concern written all over his face. “Yes! And to be completely honest I have no idea how all of you are alive and I’m totally confused about it... does Thanos exist? Are you guys searching for the infinity stones? ‘Cause if not, you should totally do that before Thanos-”

“How do you know about the stones? And Thanos- who are you?” Tony asks, in obvious disbelief. “Oh, yeah! I forgot that part, my name is (Y/N), I’m fourteen years old, and I already told you I love you, but I love you. Like a lot. Like you inspired me to become an engineer... but seriously, how are you guys alive?”

“Well, we did fight Thanos in Wakanda, but he never got the chance to snap his fingers. Thor cut his head clean off with Stormbreaker and Doctor Strange used the time stone to bring Vision back and Cap and I decided to set aside our differences and start working together again. After a risk that big, it would be better for all of us to work together than be separated but that’s enough about that, you’re fourteen and you’re already an engineer?”

“Oh my god, that’s crazy! Everything I though I knew was a lie what the heck, this is insane! And you’re back together?! This is so great. I’m so happy I designed this watch so I could jump from my dimension to this dimension-”

“Your dimension to this dimension?”

“Yes, my dimension to your dimension.”

“You’re from a different dimension?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool! And so far, no glitches and my organs feel fine so I’d like to say this was a success, the only problem is I don’t entirely know how I got here,” you think out-loud, pulling up the hologram like technology that exists in this world already from your watch, beginning to type some things out. “So you invented that watch?” Tony asks, walking over to you to see what you were typing. “Uh-huh… it only took around two and a half months to design the watch itself and integrate the dimensional navigation software, but the technology used in it took me about six months to develop.” You can feel Tony’s eyes on you, but you just keep typing away. “How long did you say you were going to stay here?” you hear Bruce ask, and you shrug. “I didn’t say, but to be honest it looks like I’m stuck here because fun fact, this was somehow activated while I was asleep. I have no idea how to get back to my dimension, so…” you look at Tony, “Do you have a place I could stay until I figure it out?”

“Uh, yeah I do. I kind of want to talk to you about some things. I’ve noticed you don’t have an A.I. I could help you out with that, you’d be amazed at how much simpler it makes things,” Tony says, and your eyes widen. “Really?! I can have my own JARVIS?!”

“Hell yeah you can. Now with this watch, do you think that-“

“I hate to interrupt your science party, but are we just ignoring how she knows so much about us?” Natasha asks. “Oh! The dimension I’m from is hero-less. You guys exist in movies, I’ve seen every major battle you guys have had. Including one that won’t even happen because your timeline is different from the timeline that was created in my dimension,” you explain, not diverting your attention from your watch. “I have them all if you’d want to watch them. The actors look just like you guys, it’s pretty dope,” you inform and they all stare at you in disbelief. “You know, (Y/N), I think we’re gonna be good friends,” Tony tells you, and you smile. If you thought it was crazy that you discovered dimensional traveling, it’s even crazier that you just met not only your idol, but your future best friend. With the things he taught you, you went back to your dimension and released all of your tech, advancing the boring old Earth you knew. You constantly travelled between your dimension and the Avengers’ dimension, and because of Tony you always had a place to stay. You also may have brought Peter Parker to prom. Crazy how that works.

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying the Planet to Save It    Chapter 1:  Impure Thoughts

There’s a new threat to the world, and The Avengers join the new S.H.I.E.L.D. to find and fight it.  Captain America, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Agent Phil Coulson, Sharon Carter, some OCs.  Canon?  What canon?  After Civil War, but before any of the travesties of Infinity War or Endgame.   Action, hopefully humor, smut, language your mama would slap clean out your mouth, fluff.  IDK, I just watch the story develop as my fingers write it.  I get surprised a lot.

_______________________________

“Seriously?  This is what we’re doing now?”  Sam Wilson growled.  “We’ve saved the world how many times?  And tonight they got us workin’ as what, bouncers?  Security guards?”

Bucky Barnes looked around the massive hotel ballroom with a shrug. “Well, it is the President.”

“He got his own damned guards!  Why are they not handlin’ their shit?  Ain’t that what the taxpayers are paying them for?”  Sam was hissing in Bucky’s ear, and in the ears of the rest of the Avengers team scattered throughout the huge, crowded room wearing comm devices that looked like those used by the Secret Service, but were fortunately not patched into their frequency.  

Steve Rogers knew some of those Secret Service guys, and they were not only tough as hell but damn proud of what they did.  Sam would be wise not to piss them off.

“That’s enough, Falcon,” he muttered from where he stood in a narrow hallway outside the ballroom, watching the President roll his eyes as his staff tried to prepare him for a speech he could give in his sleep. He’d already seen the guy stare down a woman who tried to get him to let her powder his nose.  Steve thought he might kinda like this President.  Not like the last douchebag.

In the ballroom, standing in front of the dais looking out at the crowd and trying not to attract attention, Bucky smirked at Sam. “I don’t know.  It’s not so bad.  It’s probably just terrorists.  Won’t that be a nice break from, like, mad scientists and aliens and shit?  Besides, c’mon.  You know you’re havin’ impure thoughts about me in this tux.”  

Sam gave him a quick sneer.  “Dude, you need a new mirror.”

“Barnes,” Clint Barton’s voice came over the comms.  “President Lattimore is fifteen seconds out from the East entrance.”

“Copy,” Bucky murmured.  Now it was Sam’s turn to smirk.  

“Fuck you,” Bucky growled at Sam as he began to walk – if big, sleek cats looking for trouble can be said to just “walk” - across to the large expanse of doors on the East side of the ballroom.  All were locked except for the center doors, allowing the security teams to control access to the room and monitor the entrances of dignitaries. Bucky had drawn the short straw and been assigned to the former President from Alabama, a guy so grandiose with a manner so smarmy yet chill-inducing that Bucky could only hope he didn’t slip and call him Palpatine to his face.  

There was a Secret Service agent in front of each of the eight doors on this side of the room.  Bucky knew that there were also agents on the other side of each door.  The center door was the only one with more than one guard, and Bucky knew that Natasha Romanoff was on the other side. She’d been assigned the very delicate task of making sure each and every person who went through that door – security guard, celebrity, Senator, foreign dignitary, or former American President – got searched, and searched well.  Although Natasha didn’t agree, Bucky was pretty sure she’d drawn the really short straw.

At the door through which former President Lattimore would be entering, Bucky knew he’d be met by his counterpart, the Secret Service agent assigned to shadow former President Lattimore while he was in the ballroom. He looked at the series of tuxedoed men with serious expressions and fairly obvious earpieces standing stiffly at the door, wondering which one that would turn out to be.  

As he took his place to one side of the door, he exchanged nods with the senior agent who’d been working with the Avengers to plan security for this event.  The senior agent then turned his glance to a woman Bucky hadn’t even noticed, and the two greeted each other quietly.  A ghost of a smile played across her lips as she took her place across from Bucky.

He tried his damnedest to have no expression on his face.  This was his Secret Service counterpart?  She looked tiny to him.  She wasn’t – she was at least five-foot-six and was in no way a waif – but he’d been expecting someone… bigger.  In his heart of hearts, he knew he’d been expecting a burly man, but he tried not to acknowledge that thought to himself, lest it show on his face.  The last thing he wanted was another lecture from Natasha about his dinosaur tendencies.  

“Joss Emerson,” she said in a voice that was surprisingly low and smooth.

“Bucky Barnes.”

She almost laughed.  “Yeah. I know.”  

OK, so there were actually lunchboxes with his face on them, but no matter how insanely well-known the Avengers had become, Bucky could never imagine just assuming that people knew who he was.  He didn’t have time to feel awkward, though, because at that moment, a spotlight shone on the door and someone on the dais announced into the microphone that former President Lattimore was arriving.  The door opened and the man ponced into the room to the recorded strains of some campaign song or another, Bucky didn’t know, all modern music sounded the same to him.  Lattimore flashed his unnaturally white, uncle-who-hugs-too-long simper, waving as enthusiastically as if the scattered applause was a standing ovation.  Bucky thought he seemed a little disappointed in its volume, and he was undeniably unhappy when the spotlight turned off seconds after he entered.  

Fortunately for his ego, Lattimore was immediately greeted by a number of people who seemed thrilled to be seen with him.  Already Bucky was fighting the urge to place himself between his objective and the group of fawning, salivating morons draping themselves over him as one of the many photographers wandering the ballroom captured the moment.  He glanced over at Agent Emerson, who didn’t seem even a little bothered.  She clearly knew who these people were.  Her eyes were everywhere else.  Bucky sighed.  It was gonna be a long night.

*****

None of the Avengers wanted to be here.  Only a few even believed there was a credible threat. The problem was, those who did believe there was a credible threat – Steve, Bruce Banner, and Tony Stark – outweighed the rest of the team.  They’d been among the ones called to Washington, D.C. to a very secret meeting with the President and several members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Phil Coulson, Director of the new S.H.I.E.L.D. had been there, as well, and they’d all been convinced by what they’d seen.

Something was going on.  Strange energy signatures had been detected in various places around the Earth, and in each of those places, cataclysmic events had occurred.  The events seemed to be natural phenomena – earthquakes, hurricanes, massive wildfires – but it was far too much of a coincidence.  

And then there was this guy Arias.  Jarman Arias, mouthy Colombian dickweed with enough money to make even Tony Stark raise an eyebrow.  Coulson and S.H.I.E.L.D. had found what could be interpreted as his fingerprints on several of the incidents. Faint and plausibly deniable, but there. 

After that meeting, when S.H.I.E.L.D. had agreed to investigate the incidents and Steve had agreed that the Avengers would take this assignment, the Avengers team had been working with the Secret Service to prepare for this night.  It was a great opportunity for S.H.I.E.L.D. to observe Arias, but that wasn’t the Avengers’ mission.  Their mission was to make sure that having Arias in the same room with the President, the former President, and a whole lot of other powerful notables didn’t turn out to be a Very. Bad. Idea.  

*****

Sam was assigned to Arias, who arrived a few minutes after President Lattimore.  He, too, had a counterpart, but she wasn’t Secret Service, she was S.H.I.E.L.D.  He’d met her before, and admired her sleek, Latina looks, but something about the way she seemed to look right through him had made him hesitant to make a move.  Tonight seemed like a good opportunity, and he liked what he was seeing so far.

Arias had his own security team, known to be very lethal and not overly concerned about legality or collateral damage.  He didn’t want or need more security, and he definitely objected to having people he didn’t know close to him.  But Anita Herrera was good.  

“Señor Arias, no one’s questioning your security team,” she assured him in musical Spanish.  She actually didn’t have a Colombian accent – she was Cuban – but anyone listening to her right now would swear she was born and raised in Bogotá.  “But the President has asked that we take special care of you. This event is important to him, so important that he’s actually asked The Avengers to provide security for his most important guests, although we’re keeping that quiet.  You won’t mind being seen to be guarded by the Falcon himself, will you?”

Sam wanted to punch the guy in the throat merely for getting to be the target of Herrera’s smile.  Damn.  She was something.  

And Arias, like many a man before him, made his ego-driven decision with the other head.  “Of course, Agent Herrera.  When you put it that way.”

Sam tried his best to give Agent Herrera a very professional, not at all aroused, nod of the head.  It mostly worked.  But when she gave him a taste of that smile, Sam suddenly got very interested in the logistics of getting Arias into the ballroom and where he would be seated, because there was only so much room in the slacks of his expertly-tailored tuxedo.

*****

At that moment, Bucky was listening to former President Lattimore (whom he knew for a fact had been called Voldemort by his Secret Service detail behind his back) making inappropriate comments to Agent Emerson.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Joss, and you’re looking just as lovely as ever.  I’ll never know where you hide firearms under those dresses.”  Bucky flicked a glance at Lattimore just in time to see the lecherous gleam in his eye as he gave Emerson a very thorough once-over.

Her voice was professional as she responded, “Not your problem, Sir. As long as I know where they are.”

In fact, Bucky did know where Emerson hid at least one firearm under her dress, and he’d counted three knives so far.  Five, if you counted the heels on her shoes, which he’d bet his new SOG tac knife were not standard issue.  Bucky knew fuck-all about women’s dresses, but he knew what he liked.  Her black dress had long sleeves (two knives) and fitted the upper part of her body very nicely (third knife between her breasts, but it wasn’t like he’d been looking).  Bucky really appreciated the way the soft material clung to her, even as he appreciated that it was stretchy enough to let her move however she needed to.  The skirt had a slit up to there, which would allow her to run even though the dress was long enough to touch the floor. It didn’t flash the entire length of her right leg quite often enough for his taste, but did give him a pretty good idea where he’d find her gun.  And the dress had cutouts on either side of her waist, which gave him a tantalizing view of a body built for more than looks.  The cutouts also gave him a clue where he might find a few more weapons.  You know, if he went looking.  

“I don’t know how a girl like you decides to be a Secret Service agent, but I suppose I shouldn’t question my good fortune.”  Lattimore leaned toward Emerson, who was only looking at him every few seconds, scanning the room the rest of the time.  His voice got even oilier as he murmured, “You know, my offer still stands.  I still have a little pull around here.”  His self-deprecating laugh didn’t fool Bucky for a second.  

“Thank you, Sir.  I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“The First Lady isn’t the jealous type, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, Sir.  Mrs. Lattimore is a lovely woman.”

“So are you, Joss.  I’d love to have you on my personal detail.”

Was that a little bit of drool Bucky caught on the edge of Lattimore’s lips?  What a tool.  Bucky may have been born in 1917, but even he knew that modern women didn’t have to put up with this shit.  He wondered why Emerson did.  Especially when, the more Bucky studied her without meaning to, it was obvious she was a pro at what she did.  Her wary, tensed body language didn’t change – she was coiled and ready for trouble, if it came – even as this ancient, slimy dillrod talked to her like she was just another sycophant and not a highly-trained professional there to protect his randy old goat ass.

An overdressed couple approached the former President then and engaged him in a round of overheated reciprocal compliments.  Bucky stopped listening to the mutual masturbation and took a sideways step toward Agent Emerson, all the while keeping his eyes and his full awareness on everything happening in the room.  

“Why do I feel like I should apologize for that asshole?”  He muttered out the side of his mouth, his voice pitched so only she could hear.  

“Don’t worry about it,” she muttered back.

“He always like that?”

“Pretty much.  He made that gun comment every day for four years.”

“Huh.  Not very observant, then.”

“Not his job.”  Then, from the corner of his eye, Bucky saw her give a little delayed shake.  “Wait.  What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“Uh-huh. You realize if you tell me you know where my guns are, that’s just the other side of the same coin.”

Bucky hadn’t realized that, but he did now.  Bucky Barnes hadn’t blushed since 1943, and he didn’t at that moment, but he was embarrassed.  Which meant he immediately started to talk too much.  “No.  My admiration is purely professional.  I – Wait, guns?  As in, more than one?”

She didn’t answer, just smirked.  For a while, they stood behind and to either side of the former President, just observing.  

He tried.  He really did.  But Bucky couldn’t help himself.  “How many?”

He caught the little twist of her lips at that.  “Kind of a personal question, isn’t it?”

“I’ll tell if you do.”

“You don’t have to tell me how many guns you’re packing, Barnes.   Five.  And at least four knives, although it’s probably more.”

“You’re right.  Five guns. Seven knives.  Your turn.”

She huffed a tiny sigh, but he could tell it was for show.  “On me?  Two guns.  A few others around the room.”

Bucky couldn’t hide his smile.  He liked girls.  He really liked guns.  And he really, really liked girls with guns.

“And knives?”

“Five on me.  Lots more stashed.”

Through Bucky’s earpiece, he heard Clint Barton’s voice again. “OK, if Barnes can keep it in his pants long enough, the President’s arriving in five.  They’re gonna seat everyone.”

Bucky had actually forgotten that every word he said was being broadcast to the rest of his team.  Oops.  Still, it was nowhere close to the first time one of them had said something on the comms that the rest of the team didn’t need to hear.  It wasn’t even uncommon for one of them to be overheard flirting.  And Sam once got… well, Bucky needed to focus.

He saw in the slight flinch Agent Emerson gave that she was getting the same message in her earpiece.  She stepped up to President Lattimore and quietly interrupted his gladhanding to let him know it was time to be seated.  

As they followed him to his table, Bucky and Agent Emerson found themselves walking next to one another.  

“I thought I was gonna hate this assignment,” Bucky whispered to her.  “But I’m kinda digging the whole James Bond thing.”

“Yeah, you’re so not James Bond.”

“I’m literally wearing a tuxedo!”

“Call me when you’re British,” she mumbled and stepped to the other side of Lattimore as he seated himself at his prominently-situated table. When he was settled, with Emerson seated next to him on his right, Bucky stood behind them until everyone else was seated, then stalked to stand at the side of the room, relieved that the uncontrolled, social part of the event was over.  

*****

Now it was Steve’s turn.  He and Tony Stark were both simply too well-known to even try to blend in with the Secret Service.  So, in his role as one of the President’s honored guests, he was wearing a suit that cost as much as the apartment building he’d grown up in, feeling much more naked than he did in his extremely form-fitting Captain America suit.  He knew exactly where his shield was, but it wasn’t on his back or his arm, and without it he felt woefully unarmed even though he was, in fact, carrying several weapons.  He fidgeted through the last half-minute before he and the rest of the President’s entourage would make their way to the East doors of the ballroom where the President would make his entrance.  

Tony was already seated at the President’s table with Pepper. Sharon Carter, as Steve’s date, was on his other side.  Tony was in his element.  In fact, he’d already made a billion-dollar handshake deal with one of the Joint Chiefs before he’d finished his first drink.  But his cool was deceptive.  He used his always-manic energy to camouflage a wired vigilance that missed nothing.  Sharon, too, was all eyes and ears and taut alertness.

The lights dimmed.  “Ruffles and Flourishes” started to pour out from the sound system and Tony knew that Clint was, at that moment, climbing through the ceiling to his well-stocked sniper’s nest over the dais, hidden by what looked like any other set of stage curtains but were, in fact, made of a fabric as bulletproof as fabric could be and manufactured by Stark Industries.  

The spotlight shone on the door, which opened just as the sound system began to play “Hail To The Chief.”  Not one of the Avengers was looking at the President as he entered with the First Lady, waving and smiling to the clapping crowd.  They were watching everyone else look at the President.

“Fuck’s sake, Steve,” Sam’s voice came over the comms.  “Smile.  You’re supposed to be having a good time.  You look like your underwear’s too tight.”

The quiet chuckles of the rest of the team filtered through their earpieces, while Steve’s expression became even more sour and his face flushed a bright shade of crimson that wasn’t entirely washed out by the spotlight that followed the President to his table.

Once he sat down next to Sharon, Steve couldn’t help but feel beneath the tablecloth to make sure his shield was right where it was supposed to be, secured to the underside of the table in a quick-release frame.  

“You all right?”  Sharon asked quietly.

“I hate this,” Steve hissed through a fake smile that looked more like he was trying to hold in a fart.  

Once the President was seated, a comedian walked out onto the dais and began a monologue filled with references to current culture that, apparently, everyone but Steve and Bucky found hilarious.  They could all hear muffled laughs through the comms.  Tony’s laughter was the most prevalent, because he was basically watching two shows.  He found Steve’s obvious unfamiliarity with them funnier than the references themselves.  

“Eyes on the ball, Ironman,” Steve grunted at one point, not enjoying this moment any more than he was enjoying the rest of the night.  Tony just laughed louder.

*****

The President never got to make his speech.  Bruce Banner, monitoring a Times Square worth of screens and flashing readouts in a much smaller conference room on the same floor as the ballroom, saw the spike immediately.  It was the same strange energy signature that they’d been seeing around the world, which had preceded a “natural” disaster each time.

“Alert, alert, alert,” Bruce’s strangely emotionless voice came through their comms.  “I got a spike.  Repeat, I’m seeing a spike.  Get ‘em out.”

The comedian actually made one more joke before he noticed the quiet but fiercely determined way the cadre of athletic individuals dressed in black who had been lining the walls began to make their way to those they were assigned to protect.

Steve pulled his shield from its holder and held the President between it and himself as he, Tony, and a fleet of Secret Service agents carried him out on a wave of dark clothing and suddenly visible firepower.

 Bucky had President Lattimore out of his chair before Agent Emerson had even finished freeing her MP5 from the underside of the table.  Sandwiched between Emerson in front and Bucky in back, and surrounded by members of his usual Secret Service detail, Lattimore squawked and whined the whole way to the East Entrance.  

 Sam wasn’t as surprised as he might have been to find that Arias refused to leave the ballroom.  

“I am not a politician, and I am not a coward.  I’ll stay right here and finish this excellent brandy,” Arias purred.  

“Sir, for your own safety, I really must insist-“

“Sit down, Mr. Wilson.  Whatever’s going on, I can assure you we are not its targets.”

“Yeah, well, if it’s a bomb, that’s gonna be surprisingly non-comforting,” Sam growled.  “I mean it. Get up now.  I’m not asking.”

Jarman Arias was not used to being spoken to in any tone that wasn’t at least impressed, and usually closer to awe tinged with fear.  He was definitely not used to Sam’s Master Sergeant Wilson voice.  Like everyone else, his first instinct was to obey.  

 The Secret Service may have been exchanging confused and chaotic chatter, but there was no chatter at all on the Avengers’ comms.  They all knew where they needed to go.

Steve wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of the team of decoys who met them in the hotel’s kitchens and made a noisy show of hustling some random dude out of the hotel and into the President’s limousine.  But he let it go as he led the real President down a cluttered hallway with a tiled floor to a stairway that led to a delivery entrance. Natasha and Clint met them at the bottom of the stairs wearing beige coveralls bearing the logo of a large commercial food distributor on the back.  They silently handed coveralls to the President and each of the team, and the entire group quickly zipped them on.  When they were done, half of them – including the President - also slipped baseball hats on and they sauntered out the door across a ten-foot expanse of concrete into the back of a large panel truck.  

Inside the truck, they met Bucky and his team with the former President, who was red-faced but had stopped complaining as Agent Emerson sweet-talked him.  Steve could tell with a glance that Bucky hated the guy even more now than he had when he’d learned that’s who he was assigned to protect.  He grinned at Bucky and got an annoyed eyeroll in response.  

Clint pulled the rolling door closed on the panel truck and dim red lighting illuminated the cargo area as they all grabbed on to handholds along the walls.  

“AK is secure,” Steve said as the truck began to move.  “Leaving the hotel now.”

“Roger, Cap.  See you in a few.”  Phil Coulson sounded as though he was sitting in a lounge chair with a Mai Tai rather than directing a major op from a couple hundred miles away.  

*****

Jarman Arias recovered fairly quickly from the Master Sergeant Wilson treatment, and was fairly put out by being rushed to his limo.  Sam didn’t give a fuck.  He was moving, and that was all that mattered.  

Unlike the rest of the team, Sam and Agent Herrera didn’t know where they were going.  Part of their mission was to see how Arias would react if, in fact, the mysterious energy was detected around this event.  If it turned out that Arias was linked to the energy and the events that seemed to follow, his reactions  could be very telling.  Still, Sam had a role to play.  If he was just another bodyguard – a vastly overqualified bodyguard who was way too fucking pretty to be someone’s flunky, he thought to himself – he would have tried to get his principal out of the area of danger.  So that’s what he had to do.  

But Arias wasn’t happy about it.  In fact, if Sam had to guess, he’d say that what he was seeing was fear.  But it wasn’t from whatever the threat at the massive hotel had been.  Arias had been perfectly happy to chill in the ballroom while the rest of the crowd screamed and yelled, tipping over chairs and smashing glassware in their hurry to get out once the dignitaries started being evacuated.

“Just where do you suggest we go?”  Arias growled in his accented English as his limo squealed away from the curb.

“I don’t care, man, just away from here.”

“Why?  What is the threat?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, having difficulty trying to straighten his tux, squeezed as he was between two of Arias’s goons in the backward-facing seat across from Arias, Herrera and two more goons.  “I get the signal to fuck off, I fuck off.  And since I’m responsible for your safety, you fuck off with me.”

“Fine.”  Arias picked up a phone receiver that was set in the rear window console behind him.  “Alejandro, Site B, please.  Quickly,” he said in Spanish, then hung up the phone.

Agent Herrera blinked.  In English for Sam’s benefit, she asked, “What’s Site B?”

Suddenly, Sam’s face went slack and he uttered a soft, drawn out, “Fuck me.”

Agent Herrera must have been getting the same message in her earpiece from the Secret Service that Sam had just received from Natasha.

“How is that even possible?”  Sam shrieked.

“Don’t ask me,” Natasha’s voice came to his ear.  “I’m just telling you what Clint’s telling me he sees.  The biggest motherfucking tornado he’s ever heard of.  And Clint’s from Iowa.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, you guys, please let me know you’ve been by if you read this.  I have kind of an optimistic plan for this story and it helps me feel inspired if I know someone besides me is reading it!  :)  

[marvul-imagines]

Perfect Date

this fic was isntead to be for @thoughtsofdarc‘s 1k challenge but then hey. i procrastinated real bad and wrote like starts for three different ones and never finished and now. here we are. fully prepped for this to be bad as im not usually a one shot person but here we are.

summary: when y/n gets asked by clint barton what their idea of a perfect date would be, they never imagined anything more would come of it. time to find out just how wrong they were.

warnings: none really, mostly fluff. maybe a tad bit of implied sex? is that a thing? implied? idk, here we are.

prompts: “what is your perfect date?” + “the next time I’ll wear the dress“

word count: 2508

“Okay so,” he began, before taking a long pull from his beer of choice for that night, glancing around the circle, trying to pick his next target for this silly game. The question game. It was a ‘team building exercise,’ for your team, the Avengers, but was decidedly more fun while drinking than playing it sober. “Y/N” Clint Barton looked directly at you, as your name fell delicately out of his lips, almost challengingly. He had very nice lips, though you were pretty sure it was just the alcohol making you think that. You stared back at him, raising an eyebrow, waiting for his question.

“What is….” he mused for a moment, taking another sip of his own beer. “What is your perfect date?” He set his beer down hard on its coaster (Tony insisted they used coasters on his glass tables, or else) and leaned back into the couch, satisfied with his question.

You stared at him and let your mouth drop open, just ever so slightly, while you thought about his question. What was the last time you had even gone on a date?? Probably before you had joined the Avengers. Most normal people didn’t really understand what it was like to have the power you did, to be able to wield it. Most people were just interested in the fame. So it took a bit to remember, to imagine up, your perfect date.

“Well, I would want to be picked up. None of this wait outside and text that you’re here business,” you started, taking a sip from your drink. “It’s got to be real, and proper, if it’s going to happen at all. I’d like it to be raining, I think. Not pouring, but just a nice, warm, steady rain. I’d like to take a walk through the park together, under an umbrella, and eat a private dinner for two in a gazebo by candlelight.” You looked down at your lap, spinning your beer in your hand. “But if any of that couldn’t be arranged, I’d just want my perfect date to be quiet and peaceful. Meaningful, just the two of us.” You looked back up at Barton, raising an eyebrow. “Good enough answer for ya?”

Clint grinned, grabbing another beer and popping it open. “Much more detailed than I expected out of you, Y/N. Plenty good. Who's next?” And just like that, the night carried on.

The Avengers continued to ask themselves more and more personal questions until Tony and Clint had collapsed into fits of giggles and Natasha was thoroughly drunk and trying very hard not to show it. It was a good night, the kind of night you probably would have remembered forever, if you hadn’t started mixing beer and liquor a couple drinks later and wound up stumbling to the elevator to get in your uber. While Tony had obviously given you a suite in the tower, sometimes you just liked being in your own apartment, in your safe, happy space.

You practically fell into bed, barely haven’t a second thought about why the most handsome Avenger (in your personal opinion, not one you actually ever vocalized) had asked about your perfect date. In fact, you didn’t think about that night until a few weeks later, when storm clouds opened up over New York and the perfect, steady rain fell through the evening sky.

You heard the sound of the mailman dropping off your post and practically sprinted down the stairs to grab it. The last thing you want was your letters getting soaked through. It had happened before, the sudden storm making it impossible to read your bills, your letters, all the ink bled and ran like little drops of blood to the ground. Weren’t about to let that happen again, if it was up to you. But when you opened your heavy door, you were surprised to see a large, brown box, spattered with drops of water. Cautiously, you grabbed the box and brought it inside. You hadn’t been expected a package, and while no one in the outside world knew it was one of the Avengers living in this tiny, brick apartment shaded by large trees, you could never be too careful.

Opening the box delicately, you were surprised to find...a dress? Inside. It was soft, lavender in colour, and looked like it would hang on your body like dew. There was nothing else in the box but the soft dress. You checked the box for any sort of shipping address or label, a sign of where it had come from, but there were none. The hairs on the back of your neck slowly began to stand on end. Something wasn’t right here. This had to be some sort of trap. The dress was laced with something, and the second she put it on, her body would absorb some sort of poison. Closing the box, you grabbed a leather jacket off the hook and shrugged it on over your olive green tank. You had to find your phone and call Coulson. Might as well bring this sort of thing to SHIELD’s attention if someone was sending you threats.

After finding your phone, buried under a pile of clothes, you sent a quick text with a picture of the box and its contsense to the new Director of SHIELD and waited anxiously for a reply, when suddenly you heard three loud knocks on your door. Walking quietly towards the door, avoiding the floodboards that you knew were creaky, you stood on your tiptoes to look through the tiny peephole. What you saw outside was such a shock, you nearly tumbled backwards in disbelief. You had been expecting an attacker, whoever had sent that box, waiting in the eve of your stoop, shadow black against the soft grey sky.

Instead, there stood Clint Barton, in a button up shirt and a light rain jacket, holding a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, the other hand reaching up to knock on your door again. Before he could, you threw open the door and stood in front of him, eyeing him, then the flowers, your questioning gaze meeting his soft eyes.

“Clint,” you greeted, “What are you doing here?” For a moment, the two of you stood there, staring at each other as cool raindrops fell on your shoulders. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out right.

Finally he held the flowers up in front of him, soft and white, streaked with little lines of pink. “So, um, I had this idea. It was a pretty stupid idea, really,” he began, shrugging sheepishly. “It all started with that stupid question game the other week and, well, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking for a long time that you might want to, maybe, go on a date with me. So I set it up. Your perfect date.” He looked down at you with a quiet hope in his eyes.

You looked at the flowers that he still held in his shaking hands and a small smile slipped over your lips. You reached out, grabbing the small bouquet. “Let me go put these in a vase quick,” you said, “Then you can take me on this date of yours.”

You never knew anyone could look so beautiful as he did when he smiled back at you.

He had really done it, he had really listened to what you had said, orchestrated the whole thing. And he had waited, patiently, for the day where the rain had come and he could make sure that final touch was there. You could believe he had put all this time and effort into setting this whole thing up, just to make you happy. To really give you your perfect date.

As the two of you walked through the park, umbrella over your heads and fingers linked through one another, you could feel the anticipation growing. Things had always been so easy between you and Clint. He had helped you feel at home when you first joined the Avengers. He had made you laughed, helped you train. And while all the Avengers had become fast friends, something about him had just always clicked.  But you had never imagined it would lead to think. To a date. To his warm hand in yours and worrying if he could feel the sweat on your palms. Yet, here you were.

“I still can’t believe this,” you said quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the rain pattering on the black umbrella he held above the two of you. You looked up at him and grinned. “It’s surprisingly pretty sweet, never would have thought you had it in you, Barton.”

“Well, Y/L/N, there’s a lot of things that you don’t know that I have in me,” he said with a laugh, before stopping, “Wait, that came out wrong,” he grinned down at you.

“Sounds oddly sexual but in a weird way,” you replied with a laugh. “Just how I like it.”

“Duly noted,” he said with a wink, “But we’ll have to get back to that later, cause we’re here,” he brandished his arms out wide, displaying the large gazebo before them. It was covered with flowers, the railings were practically dripping with them. Candles lined the stairs and there were three sitting on a circular table in the center of the gazebo, which had two plates, covered with silver dish lids, waiting for them. A bottle of red wine sat, waiting for the two of you to open and consume. The whole thing looked magical.

You gripped his forearm, giving it a tight squeeze. “Shut up! You did this all for me? This is amazing!” You gushed, unable to contain just how happy this had made you. No one had ever done something so personal for you. No one had ever tried this hard to make you happy. You weren’t one for crying, but in this moment you felt like you could.

“Pssh, this? This is nothing. You’re the amazing one here,” he said cheesily, full well knowing how corny he sounded, but not really giving a damn. This was your moment. The two of you, finally, on a date. Just like he had always imagined it, but even better. Because it was no longer imaginary. This was the real deal, you were finally here with him. He couldn’t ask for a better night.

You couldn’t help but blush and roll your eyes. “Alright now buddy, watch the cheese level. We haven't’ even started eating yet,” you pushed him playfully as the two of you walked up the steps to the table. He graciously grabbed your chair and pulled it out for you, allowing you to sit down in front of the meal. Then, with a playful air, he pulled the lids off your plates with a flourish, revealing your favourite meal. He must have gotten that secret from Nat.

Pouring you each a glass of wine, he sat down across the table from you. In this moment, this moment of quiet where the two of you were together, eating, drinking, everything was perfect. No one saw you as Avengers here, no one needed you to be heroes. You could just be Clint and Y/N. There was nothing more you had ever asked for. You smiled over at him happily, as you took a sip from your wine.

“Really, Clint, thank you for this,” you smiled shyly over at him. “I never thought...I never thought you’d be interested in someone like me. I always thought you just saw me as...I dunno, as family I guess.” You could feel the redness of your cheeks, which only added to the embarrassment you felt for opening up to him. Opening up had never been easy for you, letting people in had become even harder when people only wanted to get close to you for the fame. “You make me feel normal, a feeling I haven’t felt in a long, long time.”

Clint’s brow furrowed as he looked over at you. “Well I don’t know why you’d ever think I wouldn’t like you. Fuck, I thought I’d been dropping pretty good hints for like...the past year!” He laughed. “Apparently they weren’t that good. But seriously, Y/N.” He reached over the table, grabbing your hand. “When you joined the team, my entire world changed. I know you’ve had your own battles, we all have, but I want you to know that you bring light to the team. You are such a genuinely good person, and my day feels better just by being near you.” At this point, you did really have tears brimming in your eyes. “I know this is just the first date, but I want to keep going on them with you. I want there to be hundreds of dates. Because when something feels this good, you can’t just let it go.”

You sat there, stunned for a moment, touched by his words. Clint had always been the kind of hide his feelings behind sarcasm and wit, and now, here his was, bearing his soul for you to see. “I want that, too,” you replied, smiling and blinking away the tears. “I think we’re a good thing together, Clint. We fit together.”

“We do,” he grinned. “Now comeon’, let me bring you back home.” The two of you walked lazily back to your house, dancing around puddles and laughing the whole way back. This truly was a good, good thing.

It was on the stoop of your home that you shared your first kiss. He had been starting to say goodbye when you stood on your toes and kissed him sweetly, passionately. You wanted him to feel just how much this moment had meant to you, how he had touched your heart. His lips were soft and warm and melted into yours. His hand slipped behind your neck, cradling you close to him. Without a word, not wanting him to leave you just yet, you pushed open the door and pulled him inside.

Inside the house, your jacket’s fell to the floor as the kiss continued, heat searing across your body like lightning. No one had ever lit such a spark inside you. He lifted you up, having you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you up stairs, laying you gently on your bed. He kissed you again there, then lead a trail of kisses down your cheek, your neck, your chest until he reached the button of your jeans.

“Clint, what are you doing?” You laughed, as he struggled to undo the button.

He looked up from your hips and grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Giving you a perfect date.”

You threw your head back laughing, the entire thing coming together. Between laughs, you managed to choke out, “Next time, I’ll wear the dress.”

[fanficwriter013]

Little Genius

Pairing: Male Reader! X Peter Parker, Reader is Tony’s adopted son

Summary/Request: Can you do a Peter Parker x male!reader where reader is Tony's (adopted?) son and has been dating Peter in secret for a while, but the reader is still in the closet (maybe Peter is out? Idk?) and then the avengers find out somehow? @graysonmalfoy

Word Count: 4820

Warnings: Adopted, slight angst (slight slight, it’s the first paragraph, you can skip that one), spans TWS through AoU. Clintasha, awkward/clumsy Peter, almost fatherly Tony

If you want a fairy tale that isn't this story. He had never had it easy. His earliest memory was of burning his hand on the stove trying to make his own dinner. The next one of screaming and blood, but the heavy footsteps walked away as soon as his dirty rotten, no good parents were dead. The next of a man in a suit and wearing sleek shades taking him in. He thought it would get better, and it started to for the next eight years. That would be when (Y/N) lost the only good parent figure he ever had. When Loki killed Phil Coulson.

Coulson had had a contingency in place, and that passed him over to the care of Agents Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. That was cool but could also be painful when the spies were sent on missions together. He'd particularly been a miniature agent when Coulson was his guardian, and living with the spies only further sharpened his skills. They liked to sneak up on him, and he needed to be trained to take them down before they got to him.

He was also passed around a lot, sometimes the spies would be gone on long missions and (Y/N) would go to another agent. He knew of Tony Stark but had had minimal contact with the genius. That is until two years later. Natasha had disappeared with a fugitive Steve Rogers, Clint was going on a long mission. Thor couldn't be contacted, nor could Bruce. Clint didn't want to leave a then fifteen-year-old (Y/N) alone for however long his mission would take, or until the whole SHIELD, Steve conflict blew over that left Tony Stark.

“Don't get in my way, don't blow anything up. You can have parties but I need to be invited. Ask JARVIS for things you need.” Those were the instructions when (Y/N) was dumped at Tony’s Tower. It was another week before he saw the genius again.

“You look like shit. When's the last time you slept, or showered? Should I just ask JARVIS?” He snarked, from his seat at the table in the only kitchen in the tower that had food. (Y/N) had been working on his homework, the perks of Coulson was that he was heavily schooled and had graduated high school at age 13. He had been encouraged to apply to any college he wanted, but when (Y/N) had lost Coulson, he had picked one of the online schools. He was now in his second and would be final year working towards his bachelor’s degree. Which he was starting to think would be the first of many.

“Mister Stark has not slept for forty-two hours, and the last shower was fifty hours ago.” The British AI’s voice rang through the kitchen giving (Y/N) his answer. He shook his head before placing a bookmark in his textbook. “Put down the coffee, go take a shower and then sleep for at least eight hours or I’ll have JARVIS shut down so that you can’t access the lab for a week.” He knew the only way to get the genius to do anything was under threats, a tip he had heard when he was younger and Natasha was busy playing Natalie during the day.

“Whoa there tough guy, think you could actually take out JARVIS?” That was the cocky confidence that he had heard being complained about for a solid month. (Y/N) nodded his head. “All I would have to do is corrupt a couple sections of code, and then you’d have to proofread it for a month to make him operational again.” He had accidentally stumbled into the access window for the AI’s code and had been learning it for the past couple of days.

The sideways grin quickly melted off the billionaire’s face, and (Y/N) fought to keep the smirk off of his own face. He had always been underestimated, and he kind of loved to see people eat their words. It happened a lot when he had had to go to the base with Clint and Natasha, and the agents had seen him practicing on a punching bag. He had taken down his fair share of agents and had gotten some big grins from Clint.

“Don’t worry about it, lots of people underestimate me.” He said with a shrug. Tony gave him an odd side eye but swept from the room to get some rest. It seemed that that encounter changed the way Tony acted around (Y/N). He was making an effort to get to know the young boy he was currently in charge of taking care of.

Tony was not great at small talk, and he would mostly babble on about the projects he was working on down in his lab. (Y/N) was finding it easy to sit and listen, and put forward some alternative viewpoints. Tony had a tendency to only see the mechanical view, and (Y/N) could separate himself and see other angles for the genius to evaluate. He could see when he hit at a particular angle that the genius hadn’t seen and that Tony would kick himself in the ass for. Sometimes it was a simple solution, other times it was just a matter of another point of view. (Y/N) was starting to believe that Tony trusted him, and his input.

It was about two months into his stay with Tony when Steve showed up to the Tower. He’d explained after Tony insisted that if Steve wanted any kind of Stark help that (Y/N) could be trusted to be fully briefed on the situation. Steve had explained that SHIELD had fallen because SHIELD had been HYDRA all along. Steve had grand ideas to continue on the SHIELD mission with Stark’s help since it had been a Stark that had founded SHIELD, to begin with.

That had started the beginning of the Avenger’s Tower. (Y/N) was in the logistics part of the SHIELD that Tony funded but Steve was running. Tony had set him up with his own lab and had him running some research on potentially enabled candidates for recruitment purposes. It was how a one Mister Peter Parker, or as the teenager called himself Spiderman, came to be on the radar.

“Tony, did you see the file I sent you?” He asked at the weekly Wednesday night dinner. Tony always spent Wednesday night with (Y/N), and Friday nights were movie night with all the Avengers. The genius nodded.

“Mmhmm.” He started to talk with his mouth full and had received a sharp eyebrow raise from (Y/N). “Yeah, he shows some promise. I want you to conduct some field research, maybe evaluate the kid’s fighting style. You know, like that file you put together on Kamala Khan.” He said, and (Y/N) nodded.

This dictated his schedule for the next few weeks. The Spiderkid hung out at libraries and pizza shops, and (Y/N) needed to get to know the alter ego along with the hero side. It seemed that Parker was either really dedicated to being as invisible as possible, or he was just super clumsy. In the first three hours that he had been watching this tiny brunet boy, he had spilled three glasses of soda, dropped five textbooks and had tripped over his own feet a whopping total of fourteen times.

It was the fifteenth time that the kid tripped over his own feet that changed things. The boy had been on his way back to his table from the bathroom and was on a one-way trip to a concussion when (Y/N) stepped in. The spiderboy was going to collide into his table, so really it was more shifting his body weight. The boy weighed absolutely nothing, and catching him before he caught himself, by the head on (Y/N)’s table was easy.

“I’m so sorry, my brain works too fast for the feet to listen.” The poor child’s face, and yes he was only a year younger than (Y/N) but that made him a child, was beet red. He let out a nervous laugh. “It looks like I’ve fallen for you.” He ended his statement with another nervous laugh. (Y/N) smiled at him before realizing the boy back onto his own feet.

“It’s not hard to do, especially when one’s as clumsy as you are.” He said, and Peter gave him a small look of confusion. “What can I say, I’ve had my eye on you.” The thing about growing up with spies, and then living with a notorious playboy meant that he oozed charm. “I’m (Y/N),” he paused, trying to decide what last name to give. “(Y/N) Stark.” He might as well just jump off the deep end here.

The boy cocked his head to the side, obviously confused about (Y/N)’s surname. “Is that supposed to impress me?” He deadpanned, and (Y/N) had to give him some props for the nonchalant response.

“I've gotta couple of other names, you could pick your favorite. Barton, Coulson, and Romanoff are all my possible surnames.” He couldn't remember his biological last name or that one would have been in the mix too. There was a brief moment where (Y/N) could watch the wheels turning in Peter's head before the realization flashed in the boy's brown eyes. Coulson’s name wouldn't probably mean much but the other two would, and especially now that everything was public record.

“Peter, I mean my name is Peter Parker.” The attempt to not make the conversation an awkward fanboying session was admirable. (Y/N) gestured to his table, which had a slice of pizza and his engineering notes on it.

“Care to join me?” He asked a part of it was for the sake of the file. But there was a softer, quieter part of him that couldn't help but notice the soft gleam in the Spiderlings eyes, and a word, cute, floated through his mind.

For the second time in the past five minutes, Peter's face turned a tomato red. “I don't wanna bother you. And I'm doing a science project, wouldn't be good company anyway?” He phrased it like a question like he was trying to use his school work as an excuse. (Y/N) shook his head and walked over to Parker’s table and gathered the boy's books.

“I insist, and you might find that I could surprise you. In regard to my intelligence that is.” He said, spreading the boy's school stuff across half of the table.

As it turned out the project was not for school. It was for better tech for Spiderman. (Y/N) played along with the school project front, and suggested some ideas that would make the web slingers work better. Sure (Y/N) didn't get a lot of his own work done, but he had made some progress on the file and also in maybe making a friend his own age.

That day he had Peter had exchanged phone numbers. It was the first secret he was going to keep from his family, or should he say try to keep. Since he knew Clint and Natasha were sneaky, but he didn't think they, any of them, word approve of him being friendly with a target and possible agent recruit.

It had been another week before there was a text exchange, that Peter had initiated. It was another lie, of course, but the actual excitement about the success of the project and the “grade” it had gotten was somewhat real. The actuality meant that the web shooter was working and the novice crimefighter was stepping up in that world.

(Y/N) had noticed a small flutter in his stomach when he read the name on the screen. The conversation quickly turned into other areas, mostly that awkward small talk getting to know you stuff. Which had veered into talking about this obscure little coffee shop that Peter had just discovered and was obsessed with. He had slyly and in the most endearing way, had asked to see (Y/N) again. He had wanted to text back right away but didn't want to be too eager. And there was the other side, the non-spy side, that wasn't so sure meeting was the right decision. He’d argued with himself for a good thirty minutes before deciding that Coulson would have wanted him to make friends and to push his comfort zones. That Coulson had wanted him to have a normal life, and he agreed to see Peter again.

(Y/N) was dying. He didn’t know what to wear, his stomach felt like it was literally turning inside out. He had lived at SHIELD for years of his life, his father had been Phillip Coulson. His next set of guardians the deadly twin assassins, Barton and Romanoff. Why was he this nervous over something that wasn’t even a date? If any of his guardians saw him in this very moment, they would laugh at him and then make bets about the chances of (Y/N) puking or making a god awful fool of himself.

He was finally able to find some clothes that would make him look good, but without seeming like he was trying too hard. But then actually getting out of the Tower was the hard part. Today of all days, everyone was on base. Which meant everyone wanted to talk, and making a quick escape was just not going to happen. Here he had put all this effort into this not a date thing and he wouldn't even be able to get to the coffee shop on time.

“I'm just saying that that mission could have gone a lot smoother had we had a hacker on deck over the comms.” Nat and Clint had just gotten back from a mission to gather data, and it had not ended well. They both had some bumps and bruises.

“Listen, guys. I'm glad you're both back. I'll look into running some coding trainings and the next mission will be better. But right now I gotta study for my last final, so I'll talk to you later.” He said, grabbing his backpack and heading out.

“Tony, what did you do?” Natasha asked once the elevator doors had closed. “You've corrupted our son, lying to his guardians like that.” She hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. Clint gave her shoulder a rub, and Tony just shrugged.

As it turned out, even being ten minutes late, he still made it to the coffee shop before Peter did. Which was fine, he could grab a table and start his studying. Since Coulson had taught him the best way to lie was to base the lie in truth, he did have a final he needed to review his notes for.

The time got away from (Y/N), and when he finally resurfaced from his notes it was two hours later. Peter must have gotten caught up with his other personality. A check to his phone revealed nothing, and so he logged into the Stark interface to check out new reports. When he didn't find anything, he decided it was time to go back to the Tower.

(Y/N) had gone to the library the next day. He needed to take his online exam in a public place, where he couldn't be accused of cheating. It was his last final and then he'd go into working full time at the Stark version of SHIELD. He had been halfway finished his exam when he became aware of a lurking presence. He pushed that to the back of his head to finish the multiple choice exam. After another ten minutes, he had finished the exam and received his grade. He had answered one wrong and was kicking himself for it. It was when he was leaving that the presence made itself known.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Peter called too loudly and was immediately assaulted with a chorus of shushing. The boy had his arms full of his books and notebooks like he had hastily gathered his things. (Y/N) waited for the boy to catch up with him before the pair exited the library.

“Did you wanna put your stuff away?” he asked, he knew what had happened yesterday and knew the boy was going to try and offer an excuse. But (Y/N) wasn't so sure he wanted to hear it. Coulson had made sure to instill some values, and the situation from yesterday could have been considered a sign that whatever inkling of a nothing that had started wasn't a good thing.

“I do but I owe you an apology, and I don't want you to leave,” Peter said, shifting his body weight and books around. (Y/N) took his school bag and put it down on the bench the pair were standing in front of. Peter took that as his green light and dumped his stuff on the bench quickly organizing it and shoving it inside his own backpack.

“Listen, about yesterday. I got hung up on some stuff. And while I should have sent you a text or a carrier pigeon or something. I didn't, and well the text couldn't happen because my phone is trashed and I don't know any pigeons. What was I saying?” Peter asked, to which he got nothing in response. “Oh right, I'm a jerk. Is there any way I could make it up to you? Like coffee, my treat?” He asked, pulling a smashed pile of phone from his pocket. Like he knew he needed to prove that the phone was ruined for his words to mean anything.

(Y/N) pulled the phone from Peter's hand, the engineering part of him was looking to see if it was fixable. “This is really dead. Like I have a bachelor's degree and even I can't fix this.” He said it made him appreciate the indestructible Stark phone that had been tossed his way after he had threatened JARVIS’S code. The casual mention of his schooling had caused Peter's eyes to grow to a comically large size. “I'm fifteen, and I just earned my Bachelor's degree. If you wanted to know I graduated high school at thirteen. So I guess a congratulatory coffee would be good.” He explained, there really hadn't been much for him to do at SHIELD but his schoolwork. Besides the fact that Coulson was a very strict parent.

Peter nodded. “Cool, cool. Wait a second. Did you just agree to go out with me?” He asked before his mind could catch up with his mouth and he tried to shove his entire fist there to stop it. (Y/N) nodded, grabbing his bag off the bench.

“Come on, you owe me like three coffees, you dork.” He said it lightly, he was teasing. Especially since the dorkiness was so incredibly endearing.

The coffee date went surprisingly well. (Y/N) felt like Peter had started to tell him about his alter ego at least five times before the boy backed out. Lying wasn't for everyone, and genuine hero types would have a hard time with the secret and their other personality. At the end of the night, (Y/N) had offered to see if he could get a Stark phone for the spiderling. And while the boy protested, (Y/N) knew that he secretly wanted one. He had also made a joke about sending him a carrier pigeon, and Peter had responded with an invitation for dinner.

“Like a date, Parker?” he asked, just because he wanted to give the boy shit. Peter's face had flushed a deep red color, and he had started to stutter. “Relax, I'll meet you outside the library at 7, the day after tomorrow. Dress somewhat nice.” He told him with a smile before he left the boy, awestruck behind him.

“Hey, Tony?” (Y/N) called as he walked into the lab. He had learned the hard way to announce himself when he went down to the labs, otherwise, Dum-E would try to attack and there was a fire extinguisher involved, it was not pretty. A grunt from a far corner of the room told him the genius was pretty busy.

“I'll make it quick.” He promised, and the genius poked his head out. “This phone is demolished, but I was wondering if we could try and salvage some of its data to incorporate into a Stark phone. It's for a really clumsy friend.” He had stolen Peter's phone, it wasn't hard when it wasn't functional. The hard part would be either rebuilding this phone or getting the lower tech to corporate with the Stark tech.

“When did you make friends?” Tony asked it wasn't as rude as it seemed. (Y/N) had rarely left the tower and had only ever socialized within SHIELD and the Avengers. “But yeah, it shouldn't take longer than ten minutes. The biggest issue is gonna be the reading the data. Just leave it on the counter there, I'll have JARVIS remind me to do it. And I'll let you know when it's done.” he explained, going back to his work in the corner.

JARVIS had informed (Y/N) that reading the data and making the phone a Stark phone had taken four minutes and thirty-three seconds. He had taken the phone and made sure there were contacts and stuff before he headed out to the library for his actual date with Peter.

(Y/N) had gotten to the library at 6:30, as it had been an empty tower and he needed to get out without questions when he could. When he had arrived, from a different direction and hidden from view, he had noticed that Peter was already there and was pacing nervously, while muttering to himself.

He made a big show of walking up to him, and Peter had smiled warmly at him. “So, I kinda stole your wrecked phone. But for a good reason.” He said, handing over the new Stark phone to Peter. His eyes lit up, like a child seeing a tree full of presents on Christmas. He gingerly took the phone and looked it over. “It's practically indestructible, and most of your data from the old one was salvageable. So you've still got pictures and contacts and stuff.” (Y/N) finished explaining, and Peter flipped the phone over in his hands a couple of times before putting it in his pocket.

Peter lunged forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the collar of his jacket, and smashed their lips together. It was a small kiss before the spiderkid realized what he had done and quickly stepped away. “I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me. I forget sometimes that just because I'm gay doesn't mean everyone else is. I didn't mean anything.” He was rambling like something bad had happened in a starter relationship. (Y/N) waved a hand in front of him.

“Stop, Peter. You're breaking my heart here. You gotta stop and talk. But also listen. Did you ask me if I wanted this to mean something?” he asked, and the boy shook his head. “And wasn't I the one asking if this was a date?” he waited for Peter to realize and nod. “We may not all be gay. But I certainly am, even if I'm not necessarily out about it.” he finished, it had been something that he had known since he was seven. And since Coulson had been so great, he hadn't had to fight with himself to feel comfortable. When he had lost Coulson he just hadn't told anyone else, but he wasn't trying to hide it either.

“So do you wanna hold my hand and go to dinner, or do you not want this to be something?” he asked, and Peter turned a soft shade of pink but he wove his fingers together with (Y/N)’s.

As first dates go, the one with Peter went pretty well. Peter only spilled one glass of water and it was on the table and not on the floor. The conversation was easy, and (Y/N) even walked Peter home at the end of the night. Where the pair shared their second kiss.

From that point on, the two were constantly texting. (Y/N) had met Aunt May, and she was great. Peter had been to the Tower, but only when the Tower was empty. At this point, (Y/N) just wasn't sure how to approach the subject. Especially with the Avengers of all people. Steve was nice and all but he was from a whole other world, in regards to culture, and (Y/N) couldn't possibly imagine what he would think of gay people. Tony, he was sure would be cool with it, along with Bruce and probably Thor. But he wasn't sure how Nat and Clint would react.

(Y/N) had been battling with this for a year, and Peter was just the sweetest about it. He didn't try to pressure him, and he was understanding and didn't think that (Y/N) was ashamed of him or trying to hide him. He'd offered on several occasions to be there for the coming out of the closet party, just for support.

But it wasn't until Bruce and Tony had made the mistake of creating a sadistic AI that made its own body, did (Y/N) seriously start to consider it. It was partially due to Wanda, who had started to say something about what (Y/N) had been thinking which would have outed him. It had been a spur of the moment decision to text Peter to ask him over, and he'd asked FRIDAY to give him clearance when he got there.

It was a Friday night, so everyone was gathered for movie night. Tonight's pick had gone to Clint and Natasha and they had chosen some horror films and some spy films. It seemed like the perfect kind of environment to invite someone to. It was also a low-pressure meeting of the family since they couldn't talk through movies they wouldn't be able to drill Peter with questions.

Unfortunately, (Y/N) was in the kitchen getting popcorn and other junk food when Peter arrived at the common floor. “Hey, Spiderkid, right? What are you doing in my tower?” He heard Tony ask, and knew that Peter was trying to come up with some excuse or explanation.

“Stark, not just your Tower remember? Pepper’s got at least 12 percent, and I think I deserve at least 3 percent. So with that in mind, I think I have the right to invite my boyfriend over for movie night. Especially since the brand new Avenger is here, one that previously tried to kill all of you. No offense, Wanda.” he had wound up rambling and had needed to shut himself up. His stomach was doing that thing where it had moved and was trying to turn itself inside out. While he watched Natasha’s blank face and Clint’s that had slowly slipped into a frown.

“Seriously, kid. You picked now to do this? I just lost a hundred bucks. You couldn't have waited six more months.” Clint shifted and pulled out his wallet, handing over some bills to Natasha. She gave him a knowing smirk before walking over to (Y/N).

“Honey, we're spies. You don't think we couldn't tell. This is who you are and we love you.” she said, giving him a quick hug before moving over to where Peter had frozen just outside the elevator. “Now, you. We don't know you, we know of you and there's a file on you. So don't think you can get away with anything. And if you so much as split a hair on Coulson’s kids head. I can kill you 6 different ways that would make it look like an accident.” She hissed, going full momma bear mode on Peter. She turned quickly on her heel and settled into the overly large recliner with Clint.

“Are you gonna watch the movie with us or what?” This came from Tony, who raised his eyebrows in a knowing way. He moved to one end of the couch, patting the spots open next to him. (Y/N) put down all the junk he was still holding and took the spot next to Tony, and Peter took the one next to him.

Movie night went as well as expected. Peter was able to get into the swing of the snarky comments that the team would make throughout the movie and contributed a couple good one liners. It went so well that it made (Y/N) question why he had ever been afraid to come out to the Avengers in the first place. They were his family and they loved and accepted him just the way he was.

[marvelous-imagining]

Introducing Kate Bishop in the MCU

Part 1 Part 2

MASTERLIST

TO THE PEOPLE I’VE TAGGED, I don’t blame you if you don’t read this, I don’t expect you to read every single thing that I write. If you’re interested though, go ahead.

A/N: Here’s a little thing I wrote about Kate being introduced in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I talked about this with a friend a while ago because this popped into my head and I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the past few days. Now, before you read this (if that’s what you want to do) I want to say a couple of things.  First off, I’d absolutely love a Young Avengers movie or a TV show but I thought Kate being introduced in the mcu like this is kinda cool too and my friend said it’s very Kate-like, idk... Also, a Hawkeye TV show would be awesome. I feel like that would be more comedic than the other marvel shows but I don’t really mind that. It sounds awesome to me. Secondly, I did not take Clint’s family in the mcu into account. I was thinking about it, and if I were to add it to this... whatever this is, I would have probably added something about Clint fighting with his wife about leaving them after saying he was done when they defeated Ultron. He was supposed to be retired but got involved in Civil War and I imagine after he got free from the Raft, he might have had a fight with the wifey and had to live somewhere else, low profile, met Kate somewhere along the way and all that stuff. Lastly, I may have pictured myself as Kate in... many occasions and dream about becoming an actress and playing Kate would be freaking amazing but that’s just some dream that did not affect this little... I literally don’t know how to describe this written piece. It’s a fanfiction, that’s for sure. Anyways... I’m done with this long ass A/N I’M SORRY

Words: 807 

Warnings only a few comic references, nothing you will be confused by, i think...

The Avengers were in need of new additions to the team. A new enemy was awaiting and the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes didn’t want to take any risks. They wanted to have as many people on their side as possible. 

The Avengers were having a meeting, making sure everyone knew how serious and fatal the situation could be if they didn’t do something soon enough. They had been asked if anyone had any friends or acquaintances who were hiding some special skills or super powers. The others conversed about possible additions to the team and as they were about to end the meeting, the Archer spoke up. “I know someone,” said the Hawkeye, Clint Barton.

Everyone turned to look at him and expected more information of this ‘someone’. “Who?” Captain America asked.

“Hawkeye?” Clint said, sounding unsure.

“Barton, do you understand how serious this situation is?” Cap asked, voice rising. “We have no time for jokes,” He scolded.

“No, Steve, hear me out.”

And he did.

In Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn in an old apartment building, Clint and Steve were walking up the stairs. Steve was eyeing the building with suspicion. “So, you have a friend who lives here?” He asked, touching the wall and feeling it crumble beneath his palm. He quickly pulled his hand away and wiped the dust and crumbs off on his pants.

“Yeah.” Clint said before letting out a small sigh. “I kinda miss this place.” He said while looking around. He had a small smile on his face unlike the Captain beside him who had a hint of a frown on his face as they continued walking up the stairs.

“You used to come to this place a lot?”

“I used to live here.”

Steve’s brow rose and he turned his attention to Clint who was slowing his page, coming to a halt in front of a door with the capital letter H on the door. Before he could question Clint any further, the Archer knocked on the door.

The two heard a dog barking on the other side of the door and Steve noticed Clint’s face light up at the sound. Soon, the door was opened, revealing a tired looking girl. Her black hair was up in a bun, strands sticking out with her bangs covering her forehead. She had a plaster on her nose and jaw, bruises covering her whole body. She had an over sized lilac button up that was halfway tucked into her shorts, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She was holding a white mug with a text “I love Hawkeye”, only the ‘love’ was a purple heart instead with an arrow shot through it. The girl’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of Clint at the door.

“Oh, hey,” she said bitterly. “Look who’s back. Did you grow tired of being an Avenger again or what?” She asked again, taking a sip of her drink.

Clint sighed again, sadly. “I know, I left. I’m sorry but listen—”

“I know I probably shouldn’t be mad at you because you’re saving the world and all but I’m still mad.” She said and gulped down the last of her drink. “I’m mad that you left with just a ‘bye’ and the fact that you—” She stopped talking as she looked to Clint’s side and saw Steve Rogers. Her eyes widened and she squeezed the mug in her hands. “Steve... America... Capta—Hi!” she said excitedly before clearing her throat. “Oh my, God...” She whispered to herself. “How... What.. Why are you here?” She asked, looking between the two Avengers. She was confused, wasn’t sure why Clint had brought Steve along with him.

“We need help with defeating a new enemy,” Steve spoke up. “We need more people to join us in the fight and Clint recommended you.”

“You did?” She turned to Clint. 

Clint shrugged, “Yeah, Kate’s the finest and most gifted bowman I know,” he said and turned to Steve. “I mean she’s like nine years old and spoiled rotten but... she’s pretty great.”

“Thanks,” she said and placed a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Bitch,” she added, annoyed at the comment he made about her towards the end. “You wanna come in?” She asked and stepped away from the doorway. The two men got inside the apartment and Clint went over to the dog that was lying on the couch. The dog noticed Clint and quickly jumped off and ran to Clint.

“Hey, Lucky!” Clint said excitedly and played with the dog called Luck. They both seemed to be exited to meet each other again. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” 

Kate shook her head but smiled down at the two before she went over to pour a cup of coffee for herself. “So...” She started and took a sip of the coffee, sighing happily. “Let’s talk and start avenging.” She said with a wide smile as she got comfortable on the couch, feeling real proud of herself.

I have some other ideas about how this would continue but this is just a little thing I wrote in one sitting. I don’t know if you guys like it or not, I’m not mad if you did not read it, I’ve never written about Kate before except maybe mentioned her (FYI, I freaking love her.) So... yeah. 

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[widowsresolve]

Hello I have a request that randomly sprung to mind! Can you please write a fic around how Nat wore the arrow necklace to court in tws - where there were news crews and cameras - and idk maybe Clintasha reading articles about it? Or Clint/nat/both finding fan speculation about their relationship Etc? Thank you :)

“You really gave them something to talk about,” Clintcommented as Natasha slipped onto the couch beside him, a mug and spoon inhand.

She leaned her head on his shoulder to get a better look atthe laptop screen and raised an eyebrow. “Mmm, I figured there would be some gossip, but I wasn’t entirely sureon the extent of the speculation.”

“Like the press hasn’t been busy trying to draw connectionssince New York.”

Natasha took a spoonful out of her mug brownie and ate itbefore replying. “What all are they saying after the hearing? I see severaltabs up.”

He nodded. “There are some interesting takes. Here, listento this: ‘Natasha Romanoff’s revealed codename of Black Widow would seem toleave one to believe that the bits of behavior we’ve seen over the years matchthat of the same spider. However, could this arrow necklace reveal a certainfondness for the SHIELD archer known as Hawkeye?’” Clint grinned at Natasha.“Awww, they think you’re fond of me.”

“Do they think I have a couple extra limbs too?”

“Not that they mention.” Clint made a point of scrollingthrough the rest of the article. “Yeah, definitely nothing about youpotentially having any extra limbs.”

“So how far are other sources taking this beyond my beingfond of you?”

Clint clicked on another tab. “’In looking through thedropped SHIELD files, it becomes obvious that Natasha Romanoff and Clint Bartonhave in fact been lovers, very possibly since the early recorded days of theirpartnership. To be so successful in their work together, there has to bechemistry that leads to sparks flying before and during missions!’”

“That’s not exactly very gossipy.”

“It gets there, I just kinda liked that part, and theymention later that the evidence does support that we were very professionalduring our ops. The gossip comes about the effects of our chemistry when themission objective is complete or we’re between ops.”

She gave a small laugh in between bites of brownie. “Let meguess, we’re speculated to be so passionately attracted that we only varybetween work and barely being able to keep our hands off each other?”

“Something like that, in general allusion.”

“Clearly whoever wrote that has never been in a positionwhere there’s more than enough sore bumps and bruises between the two of youthat a hug once you’re finally alone again is enough contact for the day,” shedrily said.

“Yeah, plus it just isn’t a realistic standard to beginwith, but,” Clint broke into a grin, “how about this? This one claims that Iseduced you into SHIELD thus starting our torrid love affair. And I’m supposedto be jealous of Steve for threatening to whisk you away from me, unsourcedeyewitnesses claim.”

“Good thing that particular author wasn’t following us back atthe mall then.”

“I wonder how many romantic rivals I’m supposed to have.”

“You must be lucky, all these people trying to sweep me awayand I keep on coming back to you.”

Clint twisted to press a kiss to Natasha’s temple. “I maynot have Steve or anyone as competition, but I am lucky.”

“I love you too.” After a second she pointed her spoon atthe screen. “Is that a Buzzfeed article?”

“Yeah. ’12 Signs that Black Widow and Hawkeye are AVENGERSIN LOVE.’ All caps there.”

“Let’s see it Barton.”

He clicked on the tab. “Admittedly some of these are astretch. Like that one.  While Iappreciate that things worked out like they have, the formation of STRIKE TeamDelta was because we have complementary skillsets and sort of got along, notbecause Fury saw our inherent chemistry and set us up. He wouldn’t do somethinglike that.”

“Plus he wanted to give Coulson the slightly unruly defectorto keep an eye on and you weren’t scared of me, unlike some agents.”

“And then you became one of Fury’s favorite people, even ifhe wouldn’t admit it to almost anyone.”

Natasha smiled. “Another reason you’re lucky.” Before hecould give a reply she frowned at the screen. “Checking each other out ofmedical is also a stretch to base assuming our relationship on.”

“Number eight isn’t wrong though, and I have to admit that’sa pretty good shot from Thor’s dramatic exit in Central Park of us almostholding hands.”

“That was a complicated time.” Natasha trailed off as shespoke and quietly took another bite of brownie.

Clint swallowed and bumped his knee against hers. “Somethinglike that, but we got through.” He scrolled down to the last part of thearticle and smiled. “’Number twelve: the clearly visible arrow necklace thatshe wore at this hearing. Black Widow is a master spy who knows a thing or twoabout what conclusions to draw from appearances. While she may not be the typeto wear her heart on her sleeve, she may wear it around her neck.’”

“They’re not wrong.”

“And there are apparently plenty of people wondering whetherit’s an indication of starting to date, being engaged, or something like beingsecretly married. Oh, and I almost forgot, your wearing the necklace was amessage to Steve that you’re unavailable so he knows to stop trying to whiskyou away.”

“We’re teasing him about this stealing reputation of hiswhen we see him again, as long as the media isn’t anywhere nearby.” Natashamoved her head off Clint’s shoulder and leaned to put her mug and spoon on thetable before cuddling back beside him. “But how long have you been looking uparticles speculating about the extent of our relationship based on mynecklace?”

He shrugged. “Guess I wanted a distraction from otheraspects of the hearing.”

“Clinton.”

“And I was curious. Did you know that apparently we’re atleast a few people’s ‘real life OTP’?”

Natasha raised her head. “I’m not actually sure that I wantto ask.”

“Pretty much there are people we’ve never met who want us tobe together, which is good I guess. I’m not above admitting that I like havingsomeone who isn’t convinced that Steve is a threat though.”

She leaned her head back onto his shoulder. “Next thing you’regoing to say is that there’s a hashtag about us.”

Clint hesitated for a moment. “I haven’t looked for us, butyou are trending on Twitter.”

“So half the people are focused on the issues at hand whilethe other half are discussing the possible extent of our relationship. I’m notsurprised.” She reached for Clint’s hand. “Maybe for tonight it’s time toignore what the media is saying about either topic.”

With his free hand he shut the laptop lid. “Sounds good.”After a few second’s pause Clint chuckled. “I’m glad I don’t have to speculatewhat that arrow necklace means.”

Natasha smiled. “You’re just happy that your gift is gettingso much attention.”

“Which reminds me actually, I think a certain Tony Starktexted me asking just how purposeful wearing it was to the hearing and whetherwe were in need of anything that he could help with.”

She shifted closer to Clint. “We should probably get back tohis concerns at some point soon, but we’re pretty good with just each other.”

“Yeah, you and me, we can handle whatever comes. Includinggoing surprisingly public in a matter of a few years.”

“It’s a good necklace.”

“One last thing from what I read, there’s at least one takethat while I didn’t seduce you into SHIELD or anything, it was love at firstsight that convinced you to join and of course led to today.”

She gave a purposefully dramatic sigh. “My next appearance theseare all going to come up as gossip magazines try to get their few questions in.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to discreetly be nearby and let myidentity slip just as we’re about to leave, give them something more to talkabout.”

“You just want pictures of you in your favorite sunglasses.”

“They’re a good look. Or you could wear them, see if anyonerecognizes them. I’m pretty good but I know there’s a Hawkeye fan club outthere that would recognize them.”

“An arrow necklace and sunglasses are suddenly the definingphysical objects of our relationship. I suppose that’s something.”

“Are you actually going to do this?” Clint’s voice held anote of excitement.

“They’re not only a good look for you, and,” she said with awry grin, “at this rate I might as well make another headline.”

[onelovelykat]

PERSONAL POST TIME!!! (It feels so strange using my laptop after so long.)

So! It’s been a while. A lot of things have happened. Hurricane Maria fucked shit up here in PR. It’s been a tough few months. I still don’t have power or internet at my house. But we’re still here.

Things in my personal life have been… interesting. Before the hurricane, I was hanging out with Barton and a person I have never talked about here. (I’ll need a code name. Let’s call him Pietro. Because Quicksilver. Because superhero name trend.) Pietro, Barton, and I would go out together and talk a bunch in a group chat. We all became close.

Then, the hurricane happened. Shit got tough. I barely knew of anyone. There was no communication. Among the first people I saw, because I went to his house, was Barton. Let me tell you something: that reunion broke my damn heart. I was so relieved to see he was okay after 10 days of hearing from no one. But he greeted me with such disinterest that… I couldn’t deal with feeling like I didn’t matter to him. (His girlfriend was there too, but she was nice.) He seemed so… distracted or gone. I felt like I was bothering him so much that I left shortly after getting there.

I finally saw Pietro an additional week later, but I knew he was okay beforehand.

Barton disappeared for some time due to work; he had a critical job to get to and things weren’t looking good here in PR. I was legit upset with how uncaring he was being. So, I kept him at arm’s reach and our friendship turned a bit cold.

Meanwhile, I stuck with Pietro. We became close. Like, BFF close. This is when I found out that Pietro was having real problems with his wife. (I already knew of a few things, but not the extent of the damage.) I tried giving him advice and helping him think of ways to fix the problems. Honestly, things don’t look too good. We became damn near inseparable. He’s been to my house on multiple occasions (which very few friends have actually done); I’ve been to his place too. We’ve carpooled to work and gone out for food and what not. He kept helping me with whatever I needed, even if he had to go out of his way to do so.

My mom did ask at some point what his intentions were, and I swatted that idea away before she could finish. Because friends! That’s all we are! I’m trying to help him fix his marriage; I’m also not interested! It’s cool, ma’! Relax! I should have listened.

Upon Barton’s return, things were strange to say the least. We weren’t as close or as comfortable as before. I didn’t exactly know how to approach him. Pietro felt the same way; even admitted to trying to keep these normal because of me. Not long after, things went back to normal. (Or so it seemed.) We all started hanging out again like before. We went out after work with other friends. Things were going well! But some things weren’t quite right.

Barton came back a hugger. Let me explain. I’ve known this man for 2 years now. We’ve hug a total of maybe 5 times before he left. I have now lost count of how many times we have hugged after he came back. While this is not necessarily a bad thing, there must’ve been some sort of trigger.

Pietro started acting… strange. I don’t know how to explain this. But here goes. Ever since Barton’s return, I haven’t had alone time with Pietro. So we don’t talk as much anymore. On one occasion, Pietro told me he missed being alone with me. While I understood what he meant, it still felt felt out of place. We could still text and what not.

Once Barton and I got back to our comfort zone, we started with the hugs and poking and tickling and just being physical. More physical than usual, actually. At some point, I noticed that Pietro’s body language would change when this happened. He would become, idk, stiff or as if he weren’t comfortable. I don’t even know how to explain it!! He wasn’t relaxed or okay with Barton’s behavior.

Add all these little things together and, well, you start to wonder.

Shortly after, I got my period and hated the world. Let me tell you, when I hate the world, I hate everything and everyone. This means I need space and time. Barton and others know this; Pietro, however, didn’t seem to understand. And that was driving me insane. Even when I explicitly said I knew I was being hostile and to not be offended by anything I did or said, he still asked what he did wrong that I was mad at him. This boiled my insides. Anywho. I was bothered by anything he did or said that week, to the point where I avoided being alone with him. I didn’t want to say something mean or hurt his feelings because of my stupid mood swings. He still didn’t take it the right way. This is when I noticed how clingy Pietro seemed. His presence seemed to bother me. He would constantly talk to me. His attempts to make jokes or whatever seemed forced. Sadly, after my mood swing frenzy that week, the feeling of being bothered didn’t go away. There was still something off.

Because I had noticed the behavioral change in Pietro, and because I’m a weak little girl who can’t keep her mouth shut, I asked Barton if Pietro and him were alright. He said yes but, of course, this triggered his curiosity. I gave him a quick overview of what I was seeing and he just nodded. “Yeah; I’ve noticed.” He had noticed! And didn’t think to share this with me!!  Anyway. He pretty much proved that I’m not imagining this. But he said he hoped it was some sort of friendship jealousy. And I hope that, if there really is something going on, it’s just that.

Barton hit me one day with a message I wasn’t expecting. We were just talking about the whole strange situation when, almost out of the blue, he says “Guess I just need to start being a better friend”. I was so blindsided by this that I didn’t know how to respond. So I deterred! But damn it. I agree. He isn’t the best kind of friend, but I know him well enough to know how he works. So I accepted him anyway. SO FOR HIM TO SAY THIS is strange. At least for me. I’m touched. Really. He’s actually acting like this friendship matters to him and that warms my heart.

A few days after that conversation, I went to the movies with Barton and a couple. NOT A DOUBLE DATE. We stepped out for snacks and started chatting about Pietro and this whole weird thing that seems to be going on. And then he said something that just… “I just hope that it doesn’t get to the point where he’d make you choose.” Stop. No. I’m not choosing anyone. We’re all friends here and I belong to no one. And then, I had deja vu. This has indirectly happened before… “You know where the problem is, right?” I asked him. He doesn’t answer. “Me.” Happy. Happy and Barton couldn’t stay friends because I had become the wedge between them. All Happy’s doing, but still. I swear, if this happens again… It won’t. Must be positive. I’m jumping to some major conclusions and that’s not fair.

Very recently, I was alone with Barton and asked him about his family. They’re all doing well. So, because he doesn’t talk about her and because I hadn’t heard about her since the post-hurricane visit, I asked how his girlfriend and her family were doing. Silence. My head snapped at him, questioning. He admitted to being separated for some time now. From way back to when he was in the states working. I apologize for bringing it up, even though I had no idea. He shrugged it off and insisted he was fine. Said he had to make a decision and he thought he knew what that was. We changed topics because he’s never been one to talk about his personal life. And that’s fine. But in the back of my mind, things started making sense. The hugs. The availability. The “be a better friend”. It all clicked and I’ll be damned if this doesn’t explain Barton’s change in behavior!

Last day with Pietro before he goes on vacation. We went out in group, had dinner, then went back to a friend’s house. The guys played beer pong. I was dying on the couch because sick. Barton was all sweet and violent (he bruises me whenever he tries to tickle me and fails). We had fun. I’m going to take care of Pietro’s pets while he’s gone, so he had to give me a key for his apartment. He saved this for the very last minute and conveniently left the key in his car. So when he was going to leave, I had to go with him to his car and say goodbye alone. I’m sick, mind you. So I’m being physically distant. And then he said goodbye and hugged me about three times in a span of maybe 5 minutes. And it’s the bear hug. I couldn’t breathe at one point. I felt like I had to hug him back with the same intensity. But I couldn’t. He left. I went back inside and started packing. It’s late and I had work the next morning. Somehow, I ended up alone in the dining room with Barton. My head is elsewhere, and he noticed. Asks if I was okay. Because I didn’t know what I was feeling, I said yes. “You sure?” “Yeah.” As he passed by, he muttered “liar”. Goddamnit. Once I got home, he asked if something had happened. When I said no, he dropped the topic.

I said goodbye to Pietro. Right? AHAHAHA. I was at work. My last day for a while. A coworker was talking with me when he looked behind me and said “some people just love their jobs, don’t they?” I was confused up until Pietro walked up to us. “Why are you here??” is what I said. He smiled and gave me a paper with more instructions for his pets, which is fine. But… Text? Pictures? He didn’t have to come all the way to work for this! Anyway, we chatted for a bit before he really needed to leave. He hugged me like I might run away and I tried to hug him back with the same enthusiasm. Same thing; I couldn’t. I didn’t feel the same way he does. We say goodbye and that’s it. He’s off. On a vacation with his wife. Away. Might not even see him until March maybe. I leave for school two days after he gets back.

Look; it’s a lot happening almost all at once. Or at least it’s a lot of stuff that I’ve noticed in a short span of time. I’m conflicted. I’m a tad worried. I’m trying not to make a huge deal out of any of this because I’m leaving soon and, really, there’s no point. But I still wonder if I’m imagining it all or if there’s something really going on with these boys. I’m more worried about Pietro than I am about Barton, though.

Anyway. 2017 is pretty much over. Let’s see what 2018 will bring for me.