#got up wrong and hit my foot bad n it had me off kilter for a few. ofc i got up but ouuu matey it was quite the experience

[rashfordian]

[fanficwriter013]

Lucky in Love

Square: Body Swap O4

Warning: Body swapping, so may be triggering for body dysmorphia. Fluff and some minor rude humor. Clint’s depression

Pairing: Magical!Reader (can be male or female or NB) x Clint

Word Count: 1678

Summary: Clint is a huge mess, doesn’t know what the reader sees in him. What he doesn’t know is that he’s going to learn, one way or another.

Link/Text: Also available on AO3

Clint Barton was an interesting man. He was a mess, and yet he knew exactly what he wanted from life. He could brood for hours, and take offense from an off-kilter joke. But he would also, help kids get their cats unstuck from trees. He would help little old ladies cross the street. Clint Barton was a mess, but the carefully constructed mess of a deaf man was exactly what made you fall in love with him.

“(Y/N), I still don’t understand why you put up with me.” Clint sighed, he was in one of his lower moods. You could almost hear the words that he would sometimes say in his sleep, words that you gathered had been said to him by his father, swirling around in his head. It was these times when you needed to be your most patient with him.

“Because I don’t put up with you.” You said as you crossed the room to place a hand on his forearm. You could feel him tense under your soft touch, but you wouldn’t pull your hand back. At these moments, he needed the soft touches.

“You put up with me. And all the crazy shit that I do. Spells gone wrong, drying out frog’s legs in the kitchen. Soaking some weird herbs in the bathtub. I do not put up with you, Clinton Francis Barton. I love you, and you should know that.” You said, and Clint’s gaze dropped. He was avoiding looking at you, and you knew that in just a moment he’d go to brood. And you’d let him, because Clint may not understand what you saw in him, but he was damn sure going to.

Clint woke up the same way he had gone to sleep, alone. He’d gone to brood and had done this to himself. He knew that, but he still had done it. He was nothing but a street rat, and you. You were patient, and understanding, and goofy. You laughed at almost all of his dumb puns. You would chatter away to him, most of the time when his batteries had died, about some problem you were thinking about with your spell casting. You had opened up to him completely, he just couldn’t give you the same. He didn’t think that he deserved it, that he should ruin your life in this way. With himself, and his insanely ridiculous mental issues that he fought, albeit sometimes not very well, on a daily basis.

Clint stretched, slowly rolling his way out of bed. The first thing he wanted was coffee, but the second his feet touched the floor there was a scuffling noise in the corner. He stood up, and Lucky was waiting for him at the foot of the bed, tail lazily wagging like it did anytime the dog saw him. Clint reached out and patted the dog on the head giving him a gentle scratch behind his ears.

Clint was now shorter, looking at the floor in his bedroom. Had he fallen? Had he hit his head? Was he still asleep? He looked up, at himself? What the fuck was happening? He started to say something, but all he heard was, - wait a second. He heard something. In a range he didn’t normally hear. He looked around, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, he settled on looking in a mirror.

Walking was weird. Like faster than normal, but also, took more effort. He almost bumped directly into the mirror and was about to when he realized he was staring at himself in the mirror. But the mirror was showing back Lucky. Was he inside his dog right now? How in the world had that happened?

Clint groaned, but it sounded like a growl to his ears. It was still weird that he could hear things, and his ears were twitching. There was a soft thud, and he turned to see his human body curling up on itself in his bed. At least he didn’t need to tell Lucky to stay. His ears turned again, catching footsteps in the living room. It was lucky he had broken his door, or he’d be stuck in here, whining and scratching at it to get out without the use of thumbs.

Clint nuzzled the door open,and trotted along the hallway. He found the source of the soft footsteps, you, sitting on the couch now. You looked a little different but still looked exactly like you always did to Clint. Perfect. Before he’d even thought about it, his - well Lucky’s head was in your lap.

“Hey, boy.” You chuckled, rubbing behind his ears. It felt way better than almost anything he had felt in his human body. “Is Clint still asleep, and you’re hungry?” You asked, and Clint could feel this weird little body move. The dog’s tail must be wagging, as you laughed again.

“Okay, I’ll feed you. Come on.” You said, and Clint stepped back a little. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the sound of your voice. It was exactly what he thought it would be like. A divine melody of noises perfectly composed.

You, of course, thought that meant that Lucky wanted to be fed. Leaving Clint staring after your retreating figure. The immediate realization that he wouldn’t be able to be near you hitting him worse than any of his other depression symptoms had ever managed to. He was on autopilot, quickly trotting after you in this cramped little vessel that was Lucky’s body, running directly into your legs as you went into the pantry for the canned food.

You laughed, a sound that Clint could only hear as a wonderfully composed bell solo, and patted him on the head.

“You’ve gotta be patient, boy.” You said in between fits of laughter. This stupid little body was wiggling now, but at least you were enjoying it. You babbled things at him in baby talk, encouraging the playing and wiggling as you worked on getting the dog’s food ready.

Clint could vaguely smell the metal from the can, and a huge waft of dog food hit his nose just moments after you took the lid off. It smelled worse than anything he had eaten out of a gutter, picked out of a trashcan, or managed to steal from the dumpsters. He was not going to be eating that.

You placed the bowl down on the floor, and Clint turned his head up at it. The smell was making him literally sick, and he missed your natural smell. You gave him this sad, worried look, that made his stomach churn in another way.

“Whatsa matter, boy? You always eat your food.” You said, in this small clipped tone. Which Clint wanted to never hear again in his life. He heard himself whine, and you stooped down in front of you.

“You don’t feel well? Is that it?” You asked, placing a hand under his chin. “I’ll go get Clint and we can take you to the vet.” You said, quickly getting up and marching out of the room. Purposeful meaning in your stride, and while Clint liked to watch you walk away. He knew that letting you get into his room right now would be a bad idea.

He trotted after you, barking loudly. You just ignored him, heading into the bedroom. However, you stopped, perplexed in the doorway. Clint, because Lucky was smaller, was able to slip past you. Now he knew what made you stop.

Lucky in his body, was now awake. Leg contorted up into the air and was licking at his inner thigh. Clint growled, meaning to call Lucky an idiot. You looked down at him briefly, eyes widening and then you sat down abruptly on the floor.

“Sonovabitch.” You muttered, and Clint felt his head tilt. “This is all my fault. There was a spell, that would allow your consciousness to switch bodies. So that, you know, you could feel what I felt. Stop questioning yourself, me. Why I was here, why I loved you. Of course, you’d get up and pet the dog.” You blurted out, all the while petting Lucky the dog’s face.

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have done it. That was stupid, and without your consent. And you want to know how to switch back. Go put your nose on any human Clint skin.” You said, dropping your gaze from his. Clint trotted over, jumped up on the bed and put his nose on Clint’s arm. Immediately he was back in his own body. Still half in the process of licking his leg.

“Man, I need a shower.” He said, only vaguely disappointed that he couldn’t hear it anymore. He knew who he was, and the hearing loss was part of him. Clint righted himself, coming over to where you were still seated on the floor. Still not looking at him.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. But, it worked.” Clint says, and your head snapped up so fast that Clint worried for a minute that you’d give yourself whiplash. You looked over his face for a moment, confused before it appeared that you got your answer.

“The dog brain.” You said signing along, and now it was Clint’s turn to give you a look. “Dogs experience unconditional love, Lucky’s brain must have helped you process.” You said, and Clint gave a little shrug.

“Maybe it did.” He says dryly, before quickly leaning forward and licking your cheek. You squealed, almost loud enough for him to hear and fell back. The look you gave him said more than words, or sign language ever could.

“That was for doing it without my consent.” He said, grabbing one of your wrists, and wrapping his other arm around your waist pulling you up into him to kiss you. It was a brief kiss, but he tried to make sure that you felt the difference.

“And that’s for making me realize that I do deserve you. I love you, (Y/N).” He said, “But don’t ever do that again.”