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Can we just talk about how Clint Barton in two episodes of his show has shown more competence than Sam, Bucky, and Loki did combined? I guess it really was Clint and Nat holding the Avengers braincells.

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Honestly the biggest thing I took away from Black Widow is that it’s now cannon that Clint hides in the vents

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Stay home, stay safe!

Let us all be a little bit like Clint. Stay home, drink coffee, avoid people… and wash your hands! Stay strong, stay safe!

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Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

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Hello + a drabble

Hello friends! Hi, how is everyone? Good year so far? 

So, I realized that I hadn’t really posted anything of substance since December and I felt really bad so I wanted to come on here and give you guys a quick update. I have not been idle! I promise! I’m working on a new project (a big project) that has absolutely consumed me creatively. I’ve had like three existential crises over this thing let me tell you. I’m hoping it won’t be too much longer before I can start sharing it with you guys because I have like five chapters already that I’m just dying to post! And I’m not even halfway through writing this story! I wanted to be sure that I was in a secure enough place with the story before I started to post because, honestly, my number one pet peeve with when authors start to post a multi-chapter fic and then just stop partway through. I get it, the creative process is hard, but I don’t want to leave you guys hanging like that so I promise the wait will be worth it.

I really am so excited to share though. I’ll be honest, the theme I’m working with has kind of been done before, but I’m hoping you guys will like my take on it. I think it will be different enough to still be interesting.

In the meantime though, like I said I felt really bad for going radio silent for so long so I took a break from my primary project and wrote up a quick little drabble for you guys. I say little, it’s 1500 words. But hey I just finished writing a chapter that’s literally 8000 so I feel like 1500 is drabble length for me. I don’t really have a title for it. In fact, it’s saved on my computer under ‘word vomit’ so I’ve just decided to very lovingly and aptly dub this and all future drabbles I post ‘Brain Dumps’.

I’m rambling, I’m sorry!

This is Clint Barton x Reader per usual. For some context, this takes place about a year after the end of Endgame. 

Warnings: Implied sexual content, cheating, a shit ton of angst.

He crawls in through the half-open window around a quarter to eleven. You’d left the window open to try to relieve at least a fraction of the oppressive, New York summer heat, but then again maybe you were subconsciously hoping he’d slip in. You pretend to be asleep, knowing full well you can’t fool him. It’s not that you want him to leave, it’s just been a long day and the emotional turmoil of him sliding into bed next to you may just be the last straw. You don’t want to do that to him. Not with everything he’s dealing with. He’d offer to listen if you wanted to vent, but when you’ve tried to talk before, he always just gets kind of spacey. Like he wants to listen, but his conscience won’t let him. You don’t mind anymore. You two moved past pleasantries a long time ago. He’s not a cruel man, not anymore at least, and he’d be there for you if he could, he just has other priorities. You understand. If you had been one of those fortunate souls to get everyone they loved back this probably wouldn’t even be happening. But then again, he got everyone back and he’s still here with you.

The first time he’d worn his ring in front of you, you’d wanted to cry, scream, tell him to get out. But as you lay there with him above you, chasing not just his own release but yours as well, you realized just how little it mattered. He’d lost everything and over the course of five years, he became a different person. Trauma changes you, but continued trauma like that which he experienced, shapes you. Then everyone came back and he was supposed to just be the same man, but that’s not how it works. You can’t unshape yourself. Maybe you can try to chip away at the rough edges but deep down the core of who you are is still something completely different. You accepted that about him. Maybe you were the only one that did.

There’s a ghost of a kind-hearted man behind his eyes, the same eyes that have seen so much death and anguish. But that man was swallowed up by sorrow six years ago and has never been able to reach the light again. You wish you could say that you felt the same pain he did and maybe a year ago you would have, but things have changed now. You didn’t get anyone back. The snap didn’t take them, the car crash that followed did. You still feel the loss and really just emptiness. That same loss is what shaped him, but it’s not the pain he feels now. What he feels is regret and the feeling that he’s let down the ones that he loves. Not because of you, in reality the times when he’s with you seem to be the only times that he’s able to silence all that. It’s why he came to you in the first place, it’s why he’s here now.

His feet land silently on the floor and then he turns to close the window behind him. He must want to talk; you live on a busy street and he gets annoyed when he has to talk over traffic noise. The two of you don’t talk often when he comes to see you, but when you do it’s usually well into the next morning before you give into sleep. Sometimes he stays, he even made you breakfast once, but usually, he’s gone before you wake up.

You hear him shuffling about your room as he expertly avoids the clothes you left strewn about the floor earlier before collapsing into bed. You peek out from underneath your comforter in time to catch him ease himself down onto the edge of your bed and toe-off his shoes before rather gingerly ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, save for his boxers. It isn’t unusual for him to come to see you battered and bruised and you’re no stranger to patching him up. You could probably award yourself an advanced certification in first aid with the number of minor surgeries you’ve done on him.

He stands and moves around the bed to pull the covers back on his side. When did it become his side? When did you intentionally start leaving space for him in your bed? You’re not sure. If you’re being honest, you can’t even remember how you met him anymore. Maybe he saved you at some point. Maybe you saved him. Maybe you’re both killing each other. But once again you realize just how little it matters because he’s here for you and you’re here for him and that will always be true for as long as he wants you.

Finally, with what sounds like a very pained grunt he lays back against the pillow and turns to his side, facing you. He opens his arms and without even thinking or a moment’s hesitation you move into them. It catches you off guard when his arms close around you like a vise grip and he leans his head down to bury his face in your hair. You expect him to go for your underwear, the only article of clothing you hadn’t thrown across the room earlier, but he doesn’t move. He just holds you.

You wrap your arm that isn’t sandwiched between your bodies around him and he pulls you impossibly closer until your legs are entwined. You’re about to look up and ask him what this is all about when you feel his chest start to shake faintly. In all the time you’ve known him, with all the pain the two of you have shared with each other, he’s never once cried in front of you.

You look up to meet his eyes and are met with a storm of emotions that he’s never let you see before. You bring a gentle, reassuring hand to his cheek and he turns into it and grasps it like a lifeline. He looks at you and you think it may be the first time he really allowing himself to see you. His face tells you everything you need to know at that moment. Where there was once a mask of cautious distance there is now only honesty and surrender. You get the feeling that he’s giving a part of himself to you that he hasn’t let anyone else have in a very long time.

The damn breaks and he falls apart when you reach your arms around his neck and pull him to you. You hold him and he cries and then after a while your tears mix with his because there really isn’t any point in holding them back anymore. You want to heal him, to make him whole again, but you know it’s just a fool’s hope. Neither of you will ever be whole again, really, and you both know it. But you feel closer to completeness now than you have since even before the snap. You think he must be feeling the same with the way he’s holding you to him.

In the back of your mind, you register that there’s no metal sliding against your skin where his left hand his gripping your hip. There’s a part of you that thinks you should be happy about that, but all you feel is the despondency that he’s weeping into you.

You never want him to be unhappy, no matter the circumstances.

You want to ask. If you did, he’d probably give you an honest answer, but now isn’t the time. Whatever it is, is still too raw. So, you hold him, for as long as it takes for him to shed all his tears and breath just one even breathe.

You wonder for a while as you lay there if you should say something or should you just let him sleep, but it doesn’t seem that he’s going to be at peace any time soon. You know there’s nothing you can say to make it better, but you ask him if there’s anything you can do, all the same. The tension eases out of him at the first sound of your voice and he rolls over to his back. He’s quiet for several long moments and even when he answers you, he doesn’t speak. He reaches an arm out for you and pulls you to his chest again, kissing the top of your head when you lay it over his heart. Something about the way he’s holding you seems like both a final word and a promise and you panic a little as you wonder if this is the last time you’ll see him.

He must sense your distress because he brings a hand up to your face, pulling you up to look at him. His lips meet yours in a kiss that seers your soul and imprints on your brain. It’s everything you want to say to each other but aren’t strong enough to manage yet. Tomorrow there would be questions and more than that there would need to be answers, but right now you’re more than enough for him and he’s more than enough for you and, for right now, that’s enough.

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LET JEREMY RENNER PLAY COMIC ACCURATE CLINT BARTON

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Archery information for writers that no one asked for but probably some of you need and I like talking about archery, so here it is.

when you put an arrow on the string, the verb is called “nocking” i.e. eyes glued on the target, he nocked the arrow

also the part of the arrow that gets put onto the string is called the nock. depending on the type of arrow this can be a piece of plastic glued into the arrow, or with wood or bamboo arrows it can be carved into the shaft of the arrow itself

you do not close an eye when aiming or shooting; you see better with both eyes open.

everyone has a dominant eye that more naturally your brain focuses with. that determines whether you are right or left handed when shooting, and doesn’t necessarily correlate to whether the person is right or left handed in anything else

so if you’re writing a character who has difficulty seeing out of one eye, take that into account when they are shooting

if they are right eye dominant, they hold the bow with their left hand and draw the string with their right. if they are left eye dominant, they hold the bow with their right hand and draw the string with their left

if they shoot left, the quiver sits on their left side/hip/thigh. shoot right - right side quiver.

there are several different ways to draw, if you are writing something historical or in a specific region, then do research on that style of archery. but for a generic place to start that is a more universal way of drawing a bow, here are some things to include

the chin stays down. raising your chin will fuck up your aim

the pointer finger on your draw hand rests on the side of your chin/jaw, and the string of the bow will touch the tip of the archer’s nose

weight is on the balls of your feet, leaning slightly forward off your heels

if it is an older bow/barebow, there is not usually a place for the arrow to rest on the bow. this means the arrow rests on the archer’s hand. if they are not wearing a glove on that hand, the fletchings (that’s the feathers on the arrow) will more than likely slice their hand when firing. this scars.

so if you’re wanting to describe someone observing and archer’s hands (hands are hot, don’t @ me) they would see a silver scar about halfway between the pointer finger knuckle and palm of the person’s hand. (turn your hand vertical and trace down the length of your pointer toward your thumb and stop next to the knuckle. that spot there.)

most archers wear something to protect their fingers on the hand that draws the bow. even with that, they have callouses. without it, a lot of callouses, scars, and blisters.

most common draw uses three fingers on the string: pointer, middle, ring. the arrow sits between the pointer and middle. just like where the draw point is, this is not universal and do research if you’re doing something culturally important.

barebow means that the bow is bare of any instruments. no sight, no weights, etc. the most basic/traditional form of bow

a recurve bow is anything where the tips of the bow curve back around forward, away from the archer

a compound is what you think of as a modern hunting bow, and is recognisable by having wheels at the ends and three strings

arrows have three fletchings that form a triangle, the point faces the archer so that the flat of the arrow will pass the flat of the bow on release. the arrow sits on the side of the bow facing the archer

archers with a larger/raised chest will sometimes where a chest protect so that the string does not catch when firing (this is regardless of gender, i know several cis-men who need it as well)

string can also catch on the forearm that is holding the bow and creates bruises and welts if you don’t wear a protector. modern ones are small plastic and cover just the spot, with elastic holding it in place. traditional ones are leather and wrap all the way around, lacing up on the back of your arm like a corset.

there is literally so much more, but i feel like this is plenty to get you started, and as always, feel free to drop an ask in my box if you need something more!

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One of the things I love about Avengers fic writers is that we all still write the everybody-lives-in-the-Tower stories, even though canon’s pretty well established that that didn’t really happen. And for some reason it just makes me really happy that nobody has the same Tower. Sometimes everyone has their own floor, sometimes everyone has their own wing on the same floor, and sometimes they all share a bathroom they fight over in the mornings. Sometimes explosions from Tony’s lab down the hall from the kitchen set off the fire alarm in the living room, and sometimes Tony has so many labs spread across the building that they could go for weeks without seeing him. Is the gym down in the basement? Does it have a view of the city skyline? Is the building laid out in a straight line inside, or do the hallways loop so Clint can run in circles when he’s had too much caffeine? Are there Stark Industries chefs who make all their food, and housekeeping staff to keep the place nice, or does Steve make scrambled eggs in the morning and Thor vacuums the living room? We have no idea how the place works, but that doesn’t stop us and I love it.

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Clint Barton x Reader - To Suffer in Silence

Pairings - Clint Barton (Hawkeye) x Reader

Word Count - 6845

Warnings - Trigger warning: anxiety, depression, and a fairly detailed description of a panic attack.

“Spoken dialogue”

[Signed dialogue]

“[Signed and spoken dialogue]”

Author’s Note (PLEASE READ) - The idea for this creation has been brought to you by the wonderful @brooklhyn, who is honestly just the sweetest person ever. This is probably my favorite piece that I've ever written, but I will warn you it does visit some dark places. The ending is very rewarding though so stick with it. I may have gone a little overboard and I’m not even sorry. Clint has lost his hearing aids and is feeling pretty low. The reader begins to feel helpless when nothing they do seems to help him. As always, I love feedback and just comments in general and I’m always willing to take requests. Enjoy!

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Clint had been gone for nearly an hour. Far too long considering the Chinese place he’d chosen to get dinner from was only a couple of blocks away. You really should have been the one to go. You had offered, but Clint had already been out the door before you could protest. Around the thirty-minute mark you had started to wonder if he’d gotten lost or if maybe the restaurant had, once again, gotten your order wrong. At forty-five minutes you had called him, only to hear his phone ring from a few feet behind, still sitting where he had left it on the nightstand. Now a full hour had gone by and you were grabbing your shoes to go out and look for him. There was only one thing more dangerous than Clint Barton lost and alone on the streets of a strange city, and that was a deaf and grumpy, lost and alone Clint Barton.

For probably the hundredth time since you’d first met the archer a few years ago, he had lost his hearing aids. How he managed to misplace something that was supposed to be attached to his head most of the time was beyond you and you had learned to stop asking how and why a long time ago. Partly because Clint never really had a good answer and partially because when he couldn’t hear he got…weird. Well, weirder. You had really started to notice the change a few months ago. Clint had broken one of his hearing aids by either stepping on it or sitting on it you couldn’t remember, and you had come by to bring him a replacement. The thing was that when you’d gotten to his apartment, Clint hadn’t even bothered putting the one working aid in and looked like he hadn’t moved from his spot on the sofa in days. After you’d gotten him hooked up with the new set you had cracked a joke about him not hearing of showers in an effort to cheer him up, it hadn’t exactly gone over well. You’d never known Clint to be the type to sulk and you’d hated seeing him like that. It broke your heart to see him in such a state and you swore then that you’d do everything in your power to keep him from falling into that dark hole he seemed to be circling. The whole ordeal had even inspired you to start teaching yourself sign language. The thing is, it’d only gotten worse from there. From then on, every time he lost his hearing aids it was like Clint became a different person. Distant and silent. The worst part was that you could never get him to tell you why.

You didn’t know how he’d managed to lose the aids in the tiny studio apartment you two were currently be forced to occupy. You’d think SHEILD could have afforded to put the two of you up in a place that was even just a smidgen nicer, or at least somewhere you didn’t have to straddle the sink every time you needed to use the toilet. The space wasn’t even 400 square feet and yet days of searching had turned up nothing but a plethora of dust bunnies and about two dollars in loose change. You had both given up and you were both now forced to resign yourselves to silence. Clint because he couldn’t hear and you because not even an hour after losing his aids, Clint had shut down and nothing you were doing seemed to be getting through to him. He hadn’t spoken a word in days and every time you’d try to strike up a conversation, either through your broken sign language or by trying to get Clint to read your lips, he wouldn’t even give you the time of day. You’d earned a couple of grunts and muttered single word sentences if you brought up something related to the mission you were on, but other than that you weren’t getting anything from him. He didn’t really seem mad at you, he didn’t have a reason to be, but you were still feeling the effects of his coldness and it was starting to make you anxious.

He had stopped taking care of himself as well. There were four boxes of uneaten takeout in the fridge and you were pretty sure he hadn’t showered in at least three days. For the past five days, all he’d done was sit at his post near the window, mindlessly taking in the passersby. You’d been doing pretty much the same thing because let’s be honest there wasn’t much else to do on a long-term surveillance job. However, you’d also spent the whole time worrying about Clint and trying to think of ways to cheer him up. You were drained and mentally exhausted, to say the least. You wanted Clint to feel better and you wanted to be the one to make him feel better. You wanted to show him that it didn’t have to be the end of the world every time he was a little absent-minded. He was your partner and your friend and, sure, maybe you wanted him to be more than that, but right now that didn’t matter. Right now, Clint just needed somebody to pull him out of that dark place and you were going to be that person.

You sat formulating a plan as you finished lacing up your shoes. You grabbed your phone and went to reach for the front door when it swung open nearly smacking you in the face. You had to duck out of the way as Clint stumbled in, looking even more disheveled than when he had left. Once he had kicked the door closed behind him, he looked over to you, his eyes tracing over you almost like he was surprised you were still there. You looked up at him with just as much surprise after nearly getting the wind knocked out of you. His gaze settled on your face for a split second before he seemed to look through you. Muttering a curt ‘sorry’, he moved past you and reclaiming his seat by the window, throwing the takeout bag in the middle of the table. You gathered yourself, toeing off your shoes before taking your seat opposite him and began working on the knot on the bag of food. You cringed and crinkled your nose as the smell of burned grease hit you. You really weren’t the biggest fan of Chinese food, especially from this particular restaurant, but Clint had raved when you’d brought it back the first time, claiming it was just like the stuff from home, so you’d put up with it. But, seriously, if you had to eat one more soggy, slimy piece of broccoli you were going to vomit.

You unpacked the various cartons of food, placing Clint’s order in front of him and shoving the steamed vegetable to the bottom of the bag before throwing it towards the trash and opening your own carton. Surprise, surprise they got your order wrong again. You rolled your eyes but nevertheless dove into the cement block that was your sticky rice. Clint didn’t move, just sat with his arms folded over his chest and his legs stretched out underneath the table. You sighed. He was going to kill himself if he didn’t eat something, although eating this stuff may not improve his chances all that much. You threw down your chopsticks before reaching over to open his takeout container. Clint eyed you indifferently before returning his gaze out the window towards the office building you’d been keeping tabs on for three weeks now. You tapped the table to get his attention. When he didn’t turn towards you, you kicked his legs lightly. He exhaled heavily but finally turned towards you. You spoke and signed to him.

“[You need to eat.]” Judging by the look Clint gave you, you must have grown a second head. Either that or your signing was really that terrible, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t that, you’d been practicing really hard. You lifted your eyebrows at him, a silent question if he had understood you. Clint didn’t answer you, instead, he turned once again to face the window, this time angling his shoulders away from you.

You gave an exasperated groan. He was going to be the death of you if not himself. Bracing your hands against the table you pushed back in your chair so hard and fast it nearly tipped over. Thankfully, you caught yourself before you could be made a complete fool of, and stood up, walking around the table to stand over him. Once again, Clint couldn’t be bothered to look at you, and when you tapped a knuckle against the side of his head, he swatted your hand away. Fine, if he was going to play it that way.

Steadying yourself on one leg and hooking your heel around one of his chair legs, you grabbed the back of the chair Clint was sitting in and forced it to turn towards the table. Ignoring his annoyed outburst, you pushed the chair in further, effectively trapping him in front of his food. You ran quickly to the kitchen, returning with a fork and shoved it into his hand, angling him towards his bowl of noodles.

“[You. Eat.]” There was no way he wouldn’t be able to tell what you were saying now, so if you didn’t get a response this time you would know for sure that he was ignoring you.

Clint stared up at you in defiance, clearly pissy that you had disrupted his brooding. You stared back at him with all the determination you could muster despite your overwhelming desire to go lay down and just be done with him. The two of you stayed that way for what could have been a whole lifetime until you finally watched the resolve in Clint’s eyes dissolve and he (finally!) shoveled a forkful of noodles into his mouth. You smiled down at him in triumph and genuine glee that he finally seemed to be willing to listen to reason.

“Happy?” Clint grumbled between bites. You made your way back to your seat, ready to, again, take up the battle with your own meal.

“Yes.” You spoke, knowing he was watching your face. Before he turned away you brought your fingertips to your chin and then forward away from you, signing to him.

Clint swallowed thickly and you literally watched the darkness return to his eyes. His chin came to rest on his fist as he looked down at his dinner, poking it with the fork in his hand. What had you done, what did you say? The questions rose in your throat only to be cut off by your phone vibrating on the table next to you, signaling that it was time for one of you to sleep. Clint glanced at your phone and, just as he had the past several nights, rose from the table without a word, closed his food carton, and went over to the fridge to stack it along with the other forgotten takeout containers. He spent a couple minutes in the bathroom before coming back out, stripping himself of his shirt and jeans and turned out the lights before crawling into bed, leaving you to wonder what the hell had just happened. You studied the wall ahead of you, dumbstruck. You were trying everything you could think of to get the real Clint back, but every time you saw even a glimmer of him, he seemed to fall away again and slip even further into whatever was eating him alive. You were no stranger to depression; you knew how to recognize it. However, experiencing it yourself and helping somebody else through it were two totally different things. You wanted to help. You needed Clint to know that you cared, that he wasn’t alone, you were here for him no matter what, even if all of this was taking more than just a small toll on you. You loved Clint and you had to try. Tomorrow would be better. You would make him see that there was light at the end of the tunnel. You glanced over at Clint who was lying motionless under the covers, his back turned to you. Judging by the straining muscles in his neck, he wasn’t asleep yet. He probably wouldn’t be for several hours if he slept at all. You picked up your phone and turned off the next alarm that would signal it was time for you two to switch roles. A good night's sleep would be the first step to getting Clint back on his feet. You sighed quietly to yourself, pushing your now cold dinner away from you. Tomorrow would be better.

You could tell Clint finally fell asleep when his shoulders relaxed, and his breathing settled. You could also tell that it wasn’t a restful sleep. The lines of worry and anxiety still etched in his face, but it was better than nothing. You watched the sliver of the sunrise that you could see as it peaked in between the high-rises of the city and it filled you with the hope and determination of a new day. As quietly as you could, you closed the blinds, hopefully keeping out most of the light so Clint would sleep, put on your shoes and grabbed what you needed to head out. Thankfully, there was a small grocery store a few blocks away. Hopefully, you’d be able to get everything you needed there.

Miraculously, Clint was still asleep when you snuck back into the apartment a while later. He looked significantly more at ease and you smiled, maybe this could work.

You quickly realized that making pancakes without making much more than a peep was going to be an Olympic sport. Getting the eggs cracked was a nightmare and you even resorted to going into the bathroom and closing the door so you could whisk everything together. Once you had a couple pancakes cooking you turned on the coffee maker, deciding it was time for your partner to awaken. No sooner had the scent of the fresh brew hit the air than you heard Clint stir behind you. You flipped the pancakes, saying a quiet little prayer to whoever might be listening that you would be able to help Clint feel more like himself again. After plating breakfast and resisting the urge to draw a smiley face out of chocolate chips on top of the stack, you turned around just in time to catch the tail end of Clint’s morning stretches. And people thought Natasha was feline-like. Clint was a regular alley cat first thing in the morning, even had the scruffy look to go along with it. You watched as he slowly woke up and became more aware of his surroundings. He took in a deep breath and seemed to realize that there was more than just coffee cooking and the confusion really set in when he opened his eyes and noticed it was morning. Ordinarily, you would have woken him around midnight to switch watch shifts. He’d probably be upset with you that you’d let him sleep, but you would put up with the lecture, he had needed it.

“What time is it?” Finally, words! The development had you sighing in relief, despite the fact that he sounded pretty miffed at you. You couldn’t help the smile that played on your lips as you crossed the room to put his breakfast on the table, turning and raising your hands to answer him as he pushed himself out of bed.

“[Almost 9.]” You looked at him a little sheepishly before continuing. “[I made breakfast.]”

“I can see that. Why?” Your heart sank a little at his words and it must have shown on your face because Clint’s harsh gaze softened ever so slightly. You took it as an invitation to explain yourself. You took a deep breath, thinking hard as your hands began to move.

“[I know you haven’t been feeling the same since you lost your hearing aids. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to lose something you rely so heavily on, but I do know that if there’s anything I can do to make it even just a little bit better I’m going to do it. I wanted to do something nice just so you’d know that I’m here and I care, and I don’t want you to feel alone.]”

The going was slow as your hands tried to keep up with the words. You forgot several words along the way, but thankfully any signs you didn’t remember you could at least spell. Clint watched you closely the entire time, his eyes passing between your hands and your lips, patiently waiting for you to finish. When you did you let out a long breath and eagerly awaited his response. You needed to hear him say something, anything.

“I still wish you would’ve woken me.”

Anything but that. Your stomach dropped and you felt like you might sob, right there in front of Clint. You folded your hands in front of you and stared down at them, not trusting yourself to look at him.

“Why don’t you just go take a shower and then you’re getting some sleep, okay?” You only nodded. Clint sighed and made to rest a hand on your shoulder, but you were already moving to grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom.

Once inside you closed and locked the door. Stripping your clothes and stepping under the hot spray of the shower you let the scalding water numb you. There had to be a reason. A reason Clint was being so resistant to help, to anything that might make him feel anything other than emptiness. It wasn’t about breakfast. Hell, you couldn’t have cared less if he didn’t want the stupid pancakes. It was the fact that you felt like you’d tried everything, that you’d given him everything you had, and it still wasn’t enough.

You willed yourself not to cry as the hot water burned trails down your back. Maybe it was you. Maybe he just didn’t want you. The thought had tears pricking at your eyes again and a lump swelling in your throat. You loved Clint. You’d be a liar for trying to convince anybody, including yourself, otherwise. The idea that Clint not only might not feel the same but that he may even resent you made your heart race and your stomach turn in a way that had you bracing yourself against the cool wall. You were desperate for some feeling of grounding as your mind raced and you felt the panic rise in your chest. You forced yourself to breathe through it, counting as you inhaled and exhaled evenly.

Eventually, the panic dissipated. You were left feeling raw and exhausted and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for days. Or at least as long as it took for you to forget how miserable you were.

You didn’t even bother washing, just turned off the water and blindly reached for your towel. After dressing and running your fingers through your hair in a lame attempt to rid yourself of the knots there, you stepped in front of the mirror. The person staring back at you didn’t look like you. Well they did, but they were different, they looked…You didn’t have the words for it. You thought about Clint and the pain he was feeling; the pain it was bringing you. To love someone so much that you take on their pain as your own, as well as the pain that you already feel out of empathy, is a special type of hell.

Maybe you couldn’t help him and maybe that wasn’t your fault, maybe it was. But this whole situation was already destroying one of you, you couldn’t let it destroy you both. You wiped away a tear from your cheek and mentally readied yourself to exit the bathroom and face Clint. However, when you opened the door and stepped out into the rest of the apartment, Clint wasn’t there. A quick glance around the room revealed he’d once again left his phone behind, right next to the plate of untouched pancakes.

The sob left your body before you even knew it was there and the dam broke. Everything, the pain, the worry, the anxiousness, that you’d been holding back for the last week came surging forward as you melted to the floor.

Broken.

It wasn’t clear to you how long you stayed that way, a huddled mass on the floor, every muscle clenched in an effort to be smaller; safer. You had a moment of clarity in which you realized that the last thing you wanted was for Clint to come back and see you like this. So, slowly and somewhat painfully, you forced the tension from your muscles and crawled over to the bed. Once you pulled the covers over your head it wasn’t long before you fell into a fitful sleep.

It was dark. You were choking, drowning. You couldn’t open your eyes. The darkness was swallowing you whole. Drowning. In what? Water? No. You thrashed around and your hand met something hard. In the distance, you heard your name. Drowning. In the blackness. Emptiness. There was nothing. A voice. Your name. Getting louder. You thrashed harder and something warm clamped around you. Shaking violently. Screaming.

You woke. Your voice was hoarse, and tears were streaming down your cheeks. The panic had returned in full force like a vice grip around your chest. You heaved in gulps of air in between the sobs that racked your body. You heard your name again, this time clear and right in front of you as you were forced upright into a sitting position. Finally opening your eyes, you saw Clint had more fear and concern in his eyes than you’d ever seen. You broke into a fresh round of sobs that had you pitching forward and Clint didn’t hesitate before he wrapped you in his arm so tightly you probably wouldn’t have been able to breathe if you weren’t already hyperventilating.

It took a while, maybe half an hour for you to finally calm down. You had run out of tears before you had stopped crying, but Clint held you through all of it. One arm wrapped tightly around you while his other hand rubbed small patterns into your shoulders and neck, willing the muscles there to slowly relax. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, until he felt your body give against him. He pushed you away from him slightly. Lifting your head with his hands on either side of your face and swiping at the tears that lingered there with his thumbs. Part of you didn’t want to look at him. Part of you was still feeling all the hurt from the past week. But then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead and any thought you had about turning away from him disappeared. You opened your eyes, finally meeting his gaze. He was trying to give you a reassuring smile, but it was tainted with worry, fear, sadness, and something else you couldn’t place. He looked so beautifully tragic you almost started crying again but forced yourself to swallow it down. When he finally spoke, he kept his voice low and gentle, almost like he was afraid of scaring you off.

“Will you talk to me? Tell me what’s going on in your head?”

You stared at him hard. The room was dark so he probably couldn’t see the anger that was bubbling behind your eyes, but it was growing by the second. You brushed his hands off of you and had to fight extremely hard to ignore the sincere urge to smack him. It was all too much and you snapped.

“Talk? You want me to talk?! I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past week and now that I’m having a violent mental breakdown you want to talk? Do you have any idea how unfair that is? What the past few days have done to me? I’ve tried, Clint, I’ve tried everything I know to show you that I’m here for you and I care, but no matter what I do you still shut me out. It’s been killing me to watch you do this to yourself, to shut down, and I don’t even know why. It’s eating me alive. If it’s something I did, I need you to just tell me, because I can’t keep going on like this. I won’t. I love you too much to watch you do this to yourself and if you won’t even let me try to help you then why am I even here? You’re my partner and my friend, you could at least be honest with me.”

By the time you finished the tears had returned to your eyes and your voice was nearly gone completely. Clint didn’t answer you right away. From what you could see he seemed to be studying the floor. After a moment he reached over and took your hand, stroking his thumb across the back of it in a slow pattern. He turned to click on the lamp that sat on the nightstand. Once the small space between you was illuminated you both took a moment to take each other in. Clint’s eyes were red, like he’d been crying himself, and a few of the lines on his face stood out a little bit more than usual. His expression gave away everything and nothing at the same time and you saw a violent storm of emotions in his eyes. He looked how you felt; tormented, almost haunted.

“I’m sorry but…” He began, his eyes finally rising to meet yours, “but you’re gonna have to say all of that again.”

You blinked at him in disbelief as he gestured towards his ear. In your outburst, you hadn’t bothered to sign along with your words and even if you had it probably would have been too dark for him to see. You slumped back against the wall in frustration, yanking your hand from his and bringing it to cover your face, fighting back tears once again.

You felt Clint’s fingers wrap around your arm gently as he pried your hand away from your face.

“Or don’t. You don’t have to, it’s okay. I think I pretty much got the gist anyway.” You let him hold your hand, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You felt him shift closer to you, his back now firmly pressed against your side as he sat on the bed, and you let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I’ve been a real jerk to you. More than a jerk actually. And you’ve been nothing but patient and supportive with me. And you’re not just doing it because we’re partners, and you feel like you have to keep an eye on me either. I know you care, but,”

He trailed off and you finally look at him. He had turned away from you, his head resting on the hand that wasn’t holding yours and you tightened your grip on him.

“I don’t think I deserve what you’re trying to give me. I know how hard I can be to be around, especially when I get like this. You’re always there and I have no idea why because I definitely haven’t done anything in my lifetime to deserve you or anything you do for me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he spoke. You still didn’t understand. You placed a hand on his cheek, turning him to face you.

[Why?] You signed.

“Because you’re amazing and I…” You cut him off by shaking your head. “You could at least let me finish.”

You rolled your eyes at him and poked a finger into his chest. You knew he knew what you were asking. After a minute he gave a long sigh in surrender.

“I hate not being able to hear. It takes me back to when I first lost my hearing. The whole situation was…I hate using the word traumatic. I feel like it makes me sound like I still have all this baggage, but I guess I do if I turn into this much of an ass after barely half an hour of not being able to hear. I don’t want to be that guy, but sometimes it’s hard, you know. To dig yourself out of the hole, so to speak, but the last thing I ever wanted to do was drag you down there with me. I’m so sorry.” He gave you a sort of there smile, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck as he waited for your response.

Your eyes left him as you began to process what he had said. It was clear now why he didn’t like talking about it, why the only way he really knew how to deal with it was to shut down. You understood, you had your own baggage if you were being completely honest, but that didn’t excuse him shutting you out when all you wanted was to help. You turned back to him, reclaiming your hand from his grip so you could answer him.

[Why didn’t you just tell me? You probably would have spared both of us a lot of hurt.]

Clint frowned and went back to studying the floor.

“I know. I guess I just didn’t want you to worry about me more than you already do.” That earned him a slap on the back of the head, and you scowled at him.

“Hey, I never said it was a smart choice. You’re supposed to be the smart one, remember?” He sounded offended, but his smile was playful. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed seeing him smile. It always had a way of washing away all the bad of a situation and it made you smile right along with him for even just a moment before you turned serious again. You placed a hand on his face again, so he’d turn to watch you speak.

“No more shutting me out, okay. From now on you talk to me or I’m kicking your ass.”

Clint smiled ever so slightly as he brought his hand up to cover yours, leaning forward so your foreheads met.

“Promise.”

The two of you stayed that way for a long time, letting your eyes drift closed and just enjoying the feeling of being together. Clint let his hand wander into your hair before pulling back.

“Now, will you let me finish what I was saying before?” You rolled your eyes and refrained from smacking him again but nodded.

“I was going to say, you’re amazing and I love you, too.”

“What?” You had to physically shake your head to make sure you weren’t actually still dreaming.

“At least I’m pretty sure that’s what you said. I could only sort of see what you were saying, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t mistake those words. But if I did, oh well, now the cat’s out of the bag and I really don’t give a shit anymore.”

Speechless couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. Elation filled your heart as Clint’s words settled in the silence between you. A wide grin began to spread its way onto your face and Clint’s eyes brightened.

“So, I did read that right?” He wondered sheepishly, adjusting his position so he was fully facing you and leaning into you a little further.

Your eyes passed over his face, taking in his hopeful expression and you were certain that everything he’d said had been sincere. You nodded.

“Oh, thank God!”

The limited space between you disappeared in an instant as Clint’s lips met yours. Your brain seemed to malfunction, halting any response and before you even knew what was happening, Clint was moving up onto the bed, almost over top of you. He finally seemed to notice you were stunned and pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Can I…can we…aw man…I mean, crap. I do really like you. I have for a long time. In fact, Nat was giving me a hard time for being too obvious about it. Or at least she thought it was obvious, maybe it wasn’t. I’m sorry, I’m an idiot and I totally understand if you’re not ready for all this yet cause I was a jerk and…”

“Clint!” You grabbed him and began pulling him closer to you once more, his eyes trained on your lips the entire time. “This is going to seem like an odd request, given our previous conversation, but please shut up!”

Clint gave you a lop-sided smirk.

“Loud and clear, boss.”

There was a moment when your hand reached up to caress his face and card through his hair and Clint reached a hand down to grip your waist. And then his lips were attached to yours again and he was settling his weight between your legs like he was always meant to fit there. Your mind and heart were racing in the best way and you quickly decided that this was a feeling you never wanted to live without.

“I love you.” You mouthed against his lips and he responded with the most searing, heartfelt kiss that stole the air from your chest. You didn’t break away until your lungs were nearly burning and even then, as you lay breathless, Clint didn’t relent. Peppering kissing along your jaw and nuzzling his nose into the flesh just beneath your ear before moving down your neck to suck a mark that you would probably scold him for later.

You were reeling. The past hour had been filled with some of the most intense emotions you’d felt in your entire life. You were glad for it, but it was a lot to take in. Needing to feel more grounded, you carded your fingers through Clint’s hair, your grip tightening slightly when you felt his hands begin to explore your body. Still feeling like you might float away on cloud nine, you reached a hand above you to grip the edge of the mattress, sliding your hand between the bed and the wall. You pulled it back slightly when you felt your fingers brush against something that definitely wasn’t the bed frame.

As Clint continued his assault on your neck, you dug your hand back behind the mattress until you once again came in contact with the small object. Upon further inspection, you realized that there were, in fact, two similarly shaped objects stuck there and when you wrapped your fingers around them you knew exactly what they were.

“Clint?” He hummed against the column of your throat, his hands finding their way under your shirt to brush softly against the skin of your back.

“Clint.” This time he groaned in response.

“God, I wish I could hear you.”

Seriously? You smacked the palm of your hand against your forehead.

“Clint!”

“What?” He shot up immediately, looking concerned that he’d pushed you too far.

You pushed yourself up on an elbow and dangled your discovery in front of him.

Clint actually squealed when he saw his hearing aids in your hand. He stole them from your grasp before briefly inspecting them. Once he was satisfied that they hadn’t been damaged he deftly slipped them on and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, say something.” He was rocking back and forth slightly, and you couldn’t help but smile at how genuinely child-like he looked. You chuckled and he looked at you in awe.

“You. Are. A. Buffoon, Clint Barton.” You couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face when you saw Clint’s smile. He fell on the bed next to you, wrapping you up in his arms.

“Oh my god, you don’t know how much I’ve missed your voice. Say something else.” He all but begged you as he nuzzled his nose into the back of your neck.

“How about you tell me how your aids got stuck behind the bed.” You felt him freeze behind you and you chuckled again. “Clint?”

“I, uh, well you see, it may have had something to do with the fact that I put them on my pillow when I went to go take a shower that one day. And then when I came out,”

“You jumped on the bed like a toddler?”

“Yes, that is a thing that I did. You are correct.” Your palm came up to cover your face again without you even meaning to do it.

“Clint…”

“Hey, I told you I’m not the smart one here.” His chest vibrated with laughter and you smiled as you turned over to face him.

“At least you have them back. Now don’t lose them again!”

“You know I can’t make that promise.” He poked your side as you both settled your heads on the pillow, falling into a comfortable silence. You let your eyes drift closed for a moment until Clint began to speak again.

“By the way, thank you for the pancakes. They were really good.”

Your eyes shot open and you rose into a sitting position, looking down at him confused.

“They were still on the table when I got out of the shower. I thought you hadn’t eaten them.”

“You seriously think I’m gonna pass up an opportunity to eat pancakes?! Are you crazy? They were still sitting there because I had to run out to the store. We didn’t have any syrup.”

You blinked down at him in disbelief and realized that you had, indeed, forgotten to pick up syrup at the store.

“I’m an idiot.” You covered your face in embarrassment until you felt Clint’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you back down against his chest.

“Darlin’, I would walk through fire for a decent stake of syrupy pancakes. A few blocks is nothing.” You giggled and smiled up at him. You felt a little foolish for assuming he had abandoned you earlier, but the thought quickly left your mind when Clint’s head settled against yours.  

“I’m sorry, again. Thank you for standing by me, even if I am a jerk and a buffoon.”

“You really are, but you’re welcome.” You brought a hand up between the two of you, bending your middle and ring finger before pressing the hand to Clint’s chest. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to your nose.

“I love you, too.”

You wanted nothing more than to lay there with Clint until the sun rose, tangled around each other, safe and happy. However, there was the small issue of you technically still being on the clock. You began to roll away from him, making to swing your legs over the side of the bed only to be thwarted halfway through the movement by Clint’s arm wrapping securely around your waist.

“Now just where do you think you’re going?” You smirked and rested your hand over his, trying to pry his fingers off you to no avail, he had you locked in.

“We are actually supposed to be working. And I think I’m overdue for a watch shift. You should sleep.”

“Pfft, to hell with the watch. I told you a week ago that guy isn’t showing up. You’re staying in bed with me.” You turned in his arm and gave him the sternest look you could muster.

[Release.]

Clint let out a sound that was something between a sad whimper and a frustrated groan, but released you, nonetheless. You rewarded him with a kiss before moving off the bed and getting ready to take your post by the window. When Clint had gotten himself ready for bed and you were ready to take your watch you came around the bed and stopped in front of him, holding out your hand. Clint looked up at you questioningly.

“From now on, when you need to take them out, you hand them to me.” You smirked down at him and he gave you an understanding nod.

“See, you’re the smart one.” He slipped the aids from his ears and into your waiting hand. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome. Now go to sleep.” You leaned down and kissed him one last time before making your way to the table by the window.

Making yourself comfortable, you watched as Clint did the same. Wrapping himself in a blanket and burying his face in the pillow. It wasn’t too long before he was drifting off, finally relaxed and with a small smile playing on his lips. Once you were sure he had really fallen asleep you got up from your chair and headed to the kitchen. There, you placed Clint’s hearing aids right next to the coffee maker. He’d never lose them again.

[theclintbartonbraindump]

Clint Barton x Reader - N(ice) Doggies Ch. 3 (Final)

Pairings - Clint Barton (Hawkeye) x Reader (That’s you, dear)

Word Count - 4,507 (oops)

Warnings - Language, mentions of gore but it’s nothing explicit

The big finale. You and Clint have some uninvited guests. The angst is strong with this one, but don’t worry it gets fluffy near the end. Sorry, this one took a little longer than expected, but I hope you all have enjoyed the story. Please leave me a comment, I’d love to hear what you guys thought of my first fic. Also, I take requests so any ideas for a new story feel free to throw them my way. 

__________

You awoke with a start at god only knows what hours in the morning. All you knew was that it was still pitch black and the wind was still howling. You rubbed at your icy nose in a failing attempt to warm it up and strained your neck to the side to see what had woken you. As you shifted a strong, warm grip tightened around your lower ribs, causing panic to rise in your chest until you whipped your head around to see that Clint, who was still fast asleep and seemed to be mumbling something about a sandwich, had wrapped one of his muscled arms around you. For all intents and purposes, Clint seemed to be cuddling you. Not that you were about to complain, especially since he was so warm. Hell, the man was practically a walking space heater. You had to fight the urge to flip over and face him and nuzzle your frozen face into his neck, but you didn’t exactly fight him either as he pulled you in closer. From behind you, Clint hummed what sounded to you like approval as you shifted back to your side and let him snuggle you. You really shouldn’t, you thought to yourself, you should push him away, he was your partner after all, this kind of thing wasn’t allowed. However, the feeling of Clint holding you close was just too welcoming. You felt safer and warmer than you’d felt in days. Honestly, you hadn’t felt this way towards anyone in a long time and the fact that Clint could coax these feelings out of you even in his sleep was just unfair. If you hadn’t before you would have to admit it to yourself now. You had feelings for the bird-brained archer, and they were starting to get the better of you.

You frowned inwardly, knowing that you would never be able to make anything of it. You could never tell him how you felt and even if you could there was absolutely no way that he felt the same. Clint was a flirt, just a crazy, adorable, heart-melting flirt and you continued to remind yourself of that as you tried desperately to drift back off to sleep.

Your endeavor was cut short, however, by a particularly strong gust of wind, howling loudly as it cut through the trees. But it didn’t have to take Clint shooting straight up, now very awake and alert, for you to start second-guessing that it was only the wind that was howling.

You sat up slowly, trying to avoid making noise as you both listened. You didn’t have to wait long before you heard the second wolf chime in with its own song, followed closely by another.

“Shit” Clint whispered under his breath. He turned to you, presumably to start giving direction, but you were already gathering your belongings and stuffing them into your pack. Clint followed suit and packed his own things. It wasn’t even a minute before you both had finished, clothed once again in your boots and coats, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

You slowly unzipped a few inches of the tent entrance, listening. What you heard made your stomach drop. The pack was close and definitely upwind, you’d been found, and it wouldn’t be long before they were snapping at your heels.

“We can’t outrun a pack of wolves, Barton.” You informed him, even though you knew he’d have come to the same conclusion by now.

“No, but we can outclimb them.” Clint pulled the zipper from your hand and yanked the entrance to the tent open. He stepped out and took a quick look around before offering you a hand up. Before you knew it, he was pushing you towards a large pine tree a few meters away from your campsite.

“Can you climb?” He asked. Not waiting for your answer before intertwining his fingers to make a foothold for you.

“Yes.” You’d had every intention of making a snappy comeback because of course you could freaking climb, but the urgency in Clint’s voice stopped the smart remark before it could leave your tongue.

You took his offer of help though. Bracing one hand on the tree and the other on Clint’s shoulder, you placed your foot between his hands and reached for the closest branch as he lifted you. Once you had a firm hold of the branch you swung your leg out of Clint’s grip and up around, planting yourself on the bough. You wrapped an arm around the trunk of the tree and reached the other one down towards Clint. He was just wrapping his fingers around your forearm when you looked up and out into the woods. In the distance, you could just make out four sets of reflective eyes staring back at you.

“Barton, get your ass into this tree now!” Your hushed warning causing Clint to take a glance behind him just as you were gritting your teeth to pull him up towards you. Clint pushed off the ground grabbing onto the branch next to you. No sooner had his feet left the ground than you saw the shadowy figures of the wolves skidding to a halt into the sliver of moonlight that illuminated the snow right where Clint had previously been standing.

Clint landed on the branch next to you as you pulled your knees into your chest. It wasn’t a very stable position, but it was better than letting your feet dangle into the waiting jaws of your new canine companions. The wolves snarled and snapped at you from the base of the tree. One leaped into the air, just barely missing Clint’s leg as he hoisted himself a little further up the tree.

“Oo, ok, nice doggies. Please stay on the ground. You coming, sweetheart?” Clint asked, now a couple feet above you. You were too low to the ground, you knew that, but you also weren’t the biggest fan of heights either. The wolves didn’t seem to be able to reach you or at least they were still too preoccupied with Clint to bother with you yet, this spot was fine.

“I think I’m good right where I am thanks.” Even as you said it you knew you were only kidding yourself. You were going to need to move higher, but the thought made your stomach turn. You wrapped your arms around the trunk behind you, taking slow even breaths. This is not how you thought you would go. Clint looked down at you from where he was now straddling one of the higher branches, his foot dangling near your shoulder. He nudged you with it and spoke calmly.

“Look, honey, I know the height is scary, but I promise you those teeth are gonna be way worse than a few extra feet off the ground. You’re already up here so just take it one step at a time and…LOOK OUT!” You had barely just enough time to open your eyes to see the jaws of one of the wolves come within inches of your chin. You braced your arms in front of you, absorbing the force of the wolf’s body before it could hit you in the face. But without your arms holding you to the tree you were knocked off balance and the world spun as you plummeted to the ground, meeting the snow-covered earth hard.

You vaguely registered Clint yelling your name over the scream that exited your body as the air was knocked from your lungs. You needed to stand; it wasn’t even an option. You still hadn’t managed to pull in a breath yet as you got yourself to your knees. You glanced over at the pack that was now mere feet from sinking their teeth into your flesh when something came whizzing out of the tree you had just been in and nailed the closest wolf right between the eyes. It staggered out of its crouched position and seemed to be looking around for what had dared challenge it. You looked up quickly to see Clint launch another pinecone at the wolves before leaning down to grab you by the collar and hoist you back up into the tree. Once you were somewhat steady on a branch, you coughed several times, forcing cold air into your lungs once again. Looking around still dazed your eyes settled on Clint who looked at your sternly before grabbing you by the front of your coat and forcing you to climb higher into the tree. Once you were nearly twice as high as you had been previously, he motioned towards a sturdy looking branch for you to stop on, settling on one just slightly over your shoulder himself. You caught your breath and looked down, the wolves still circling the base of the tree. Vertigo began to take hold, so you closed your eyes once again and wrapped your arms behind you and tried to mentally prepare yourself for what was bound to be a very long night.

You stayed that way for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, gathering yourself and wishing you were just about anywhere but here. Finally, you mustered the courage to open your eyes and steal a glance over at Clint who looked like he was considering the few options you had to escape this situation without getting mauled. He looked at you and gave you a look that told you even before he opened his mouth you were going to hate what came out of it.

“Could be…”

“I swear to fuck if you finish that sentence, I will kick you off that branch and laugh while those wolves crush your trachea.” You didn’t care how hurt he looked, you were so done at this point.

“Well, damn princess, that’s a little dark for you.”

“Don’t patronize me, Barton.” You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t even the slightest hint of venom in your voice at his point. “This is totally your fault, anyway.”

Clint twisted himself awkwardly on the tree branch so that he was still secure but was now facing you. “How in the hell is this my fault?”

“I told you not to jinx us and look what you did!”

“How did I jinx us?”

“You literally said, and I quote, ‘it could be worse, there could be wolves’. That’s what you said verbatim! Clearly, they heard you, so this is your fault!” You hadn’t really meant to raise your voice as loud as you did, but between the stress of three days in the wilderness, the near-death experience, and your conflicting feelings towards Clint topping it all off, you were damn near ready to have a breakdown. You were so worked up that you were starting to shake, and you couldn’t even blame the weather anymore. You noted for the first time that the snow had stopped and the wind was much calmer, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t still freeze your ass off cold out here. You attempted to steady yourself through your breathing.

Clint, despite his annoyance at your outburst, because seriously it’s not like he summoned the wolves or something, noticed you shaking and immediately abandoned all arguments. He couldn’t really reach you to comfort you in any meaningful way from where he was sitting. Instead, opting to hook a finger in the collar of your jacket, at least you would be able to feel that he was there. He felt he should say something, anything, to break the silence that filled the space between you despite the occasional huff or snapping of jaws from the canines below the two of you. But he was never really that good with words. That was why he was supposed to have Natasha, why he had you. You always seemed to know what to say to lift him up, even in his darkest moments. And here you were, trying to hide the fact that you were on the verge of a panic attack and all he could think to do was slide his thumb up and down the back of your neck.

“At least the snow stopped.” Smooth Barton. But then again you did start to chuckle.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“No, you don’t. You love me and you know it.” You blushed deeply, averting your gaze from him and looked back down the trunk of the tree.

“That seems highly debatable right about now.” You sassed him over your shoulder. Clint pinched the back of your neck making you yelp.

“Fucking rude.” He muttered, but still smiled at you.

The pack stared up at you from their vantage on the ground. They had to tire out eventually right?

“So, got any bright ideas on how to get us out of here?” You asked. Looking for any possibility that you would be able to venture down the tree, grab your gear and make it to safety. You came up with nothing.

“So far all I’ve got is wait for rescue. The storm’s past so they can’t be too far out, right?”

You hoped that was true. You couldn’t stand being up in this stupid tree much longer.

“Or I guess I could just…Fuck you’re gonna hate me…I guess I could just shoot them.”

You snapped your neck back to see Clint sheepishly holding a gun. You blinked at him in wild disbelief.

“You…you had a gun this whole time?! You were throwing pinecones at the monster dogs when you had a fucking gun?!”

“Apparently,” You had half a mind to break the branch he was sitting on.

“How Clint? Just how?”

“Would you believe that I forgot about it?”

“How do you just forget you have a gun strapped to your thigh?”

“I don’t know! Because it’s me and I do stupid shit like that and you almost died, and I was distrac…” You cut him off by reaching up and smacking him in the chest, your eyes glued to something moving a few meters away.

“Tell me you see that.” You pointed towards the new shadow creeping its way towards the base of your tree and the pack of wolves. The pack turned as one to face the new threat, baring their teeth and growling with renewed intent. A second, more threatening noise came from the shadows and all the blood drained from your face as you realized what you were now up against.

There was a chorus of growls and yelps of pain as the tiger lunged forward, landing teeth and claws first into the closest wolf. It reached out, trying to slash at the others that were now cowering away in fear.

“Holy fuck!”

“Oh my god. oh my god! OH. MY. GOD.”

“Ok, this officially isn’t funny anymore.” Clint righted himself from his shock of the new threat and took aim with his gun. Thankfully, you stopped him before he could pull the trigger, grabbing his wrist.

“What are you doing? You can’t shoot a Siberian tiger!” The sound of your hysterical whispering might have been comical if not for the blood bath raging below you.

“And why the hell not? Sorry, but I’d rather not be cat food today.”

“They’re critically endangered!”

“Right now, so are we!” You and Clint had a wordless battle of wills as you stared him down. You knew he probably wouldn’t have killed the beast, just scared it off. However, you weren’t willing to take the chance that you were wrong.

“The time’s long past for heroics, Hawkeye. Now move your ass up the tree.” You gave him a firm punch to the arm for good measure as you took hold of the branch above you, testing its strength before beginning your climb once again. Clint rolled his eyes.

“Why? The dogs couldn’t reach us. What’s the matter? Not a cat person?” You turned, looking him dead in the eye.

“The wolves couldn’t climb. Monster cats do!” Clint’s face fell, but he followed your advice and started to climb.

You climbed until you thought the branch you were holding would give way and finally straddled the strongest branch you could find that high up, facing the trunk. Clint found a branch directly opposite yours and mirrored your position, your knees touching his. You tried to hide your face into the tree trunk. This was so ridiculous. So much so in fact that you wanted to laugh or else you might start crying. The only thing that kept you from doing so was the sound of the tiger ripping into the wolf carcass below you. It either hadn’t noticed you or it thought chasing you up the tree would be too much of a bother.

“I swear to god if we somehow manage to get out of this I’m retiring.” You spoke quietly so hopefully only Clint would hear you. He placed his hands over yours on either side of the tree.

“Aw, please don’t do that, Sweetheart. Who else is gonna keep an eye on my sorry ass?” There was that look again. Goddamn it this was not the time.

“Would you quit it with the Sweetheart bullshit, jeez.” Clint frowned, looking genuinely hurt. You felt bad, but you couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t want to be just another girl that he casually flirted with. You wanted so much more, but that could never be and if you couldn’t have the real deal you definitely didn’t want him jokingly dangling it in front of your face.

“Sorry, I thought you liked it.” It hurt to see him so brought down by your words, part of you wished you could take it back.

“It not that. I just, it’s too confusing right now, ok.” You hid your face from him. You’d said too much. Even Clint would be able to read between the lines of that statement. You were done for.

“Why? Because you like me?” You stopped breathing. Hell, your heart could have stopped for all you knew. The words buzzed in your ears loud enough to make you dizzy. If not for Clint’s grip on your hands you might have fallen out of the tree again.

“W-what?” Seriously? You couldn’t even try to play it cool.

“And I’m not talking like close friend like. I mean Nat and I are close, but even I know better than to try and cuddle her.”

Wait, what? The bastard had been awake? Well, that explains why he got up and moving so fast.

“I-I thought you were asleep.” Your face was beet red, you knew it had to be. And you knew the Clint must see it too because you could start to see the details of his face. The sun must be rising.

“I actually was, until you turned over and head-butted me in the nose.” There wasn’t any sort of superiority in his voice. In fact, he looked almost shy, like he was the one confessing something.

You looked down, studying the rough angles of the tree. Looking anywhere you could but at Clint. Despite your embarrassment, there really wasn’t any use denying it.

“Guess you caught me.” You shuffled around in your spot on the tree branch, trying to pull away from where your knees were touching his, but Clint’s grip on your hands tightened. You looked up, daring to steal a glimpse of his face and were met by his piercing eye, mere inches from your own. The silence that stretched between you seemed impassible, but you were determined to salvage what was left of your friendship with Clint. You weren’t about to let him go just because your heart had gotten away from you.

“I’m sorry if – if this makes things awkward between us. That’s the last thing I wanted. I’ll understand if you don’t want to work with me anymore, but I couldn’t stand it if this ruined our friendship. You mean too much to me for that to happen.” While you spoke Clint’s expression continued to shift. To what you weren’t entirely sure, but by the time you finally managed to shut your mouth he seemed to have settled on disbelief.

“Why would this ruin our friendship?” He asked you gently. You stared at him. He looked as confused as you felt. He seemed to come to some kind of consensus with himself as he let out a deep breath.

“Look if you’re saying that because you think I don’t feel the same, then you don’t have to worry because I do. I like you. A lot. Honestly, I thought it was pretty obvious, or at least Nat said it was. And knowing you, you probably have protocol in the back of your mind and you really shouldn’t worry about that either. The rule is just there so that rookies don’t start trying to play freaky teacher’s pet with their S.O.s. Trust me, the higher-ups don’t give a shit what we do. So now that I’ve bared my soul and all that bullshit, it’d be really nice if you could say something so I don’t feel like such a bumbling idiot.”

You couldn’t help it. You were dumbstruck. There’s no way you heard him correctly. He felt the same? He was fidgeting like a little kid who had just been scolded for drawing on the walls. It was so adorable and absurd and wonderful, and you were filled with so much relief that you couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped you. Clint looked away from you, obviously taken aback by your reaction, and it almost looked like he was about to start climbing down away from you when you reached out a hand to grab his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” You sighed. Still chuckling slightly at your own stupidity. Had he really been trying to be obvious? How had you gone this long without noticing? It had been all too easy for you to blame his affection on shameless flirtation when in fact he had been trying to be sincere. In your defense sometimes it really was hard to tell the difference with Clint Barton. “you just don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

The look he gave you was one of pure affection, something you couldn’t remember ever seeing on him before and who could blame you if you leaned forward even just a little. Clint met you halfway, both of you awkwardly stretching around the tree between you to rest your foreheads against one another. You smiled to yourself and felt genuine joy for the first time in days, maybe even weeks.

“Well we’re just a couple of idiots, aren’t we?” Clint finally broke the silence, giving you a cheeky grin.

“Just a couple of morons stuck in a tree.” You both had to laugh at that, the gravity of the situation you were still faced with compared to the emotions that were swelling within you was more than a little comical.

“I just know there’s a joke here about two idiots and a tiger walking into a bar.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the punch line?”

“You falling out of the tree and landing on your ass.” He smirked at you.

“Jerk! I’ll show you a punch line.” You drew your hand back, fully intending on giving him a sizable bruise on the arm when a muffled hum rang through the air, stopping you before you followed through on your threat.

“Do you hear that?” You asked, looking above you.

“We are not starting this again. I’ve already had too many surprise visits for one night.

“Ssh!” You clamped a hand over his mouth as the humming grew louder, becoming more distinct and more familiar. Clint pulled your hand away from his mouth and you both breathed a sigh of relief as a quinjet came into view above you.

The tiger, which had just about finished its midnight snack, scampered away in terror as the door to the jet opened above you.

“Need a lift?” A voice called down to the two of you. You wanted to cry. This whole ordeal was finally over.

It took you slightly longer than you would have liked to admit to slowly work your way down the tree. The storm may have past, but it was still biting cold and you hadn’t realized just how stiff your muscles had grown up in that tree. Finally, you were on solid ground again, gathering your things before once again climbing into the air. This time, though, you came to rest in the quinjet. Ridding yourself of your heavy coat and shamelessly flopping onto your back stretching your tight muscles. Now that you were having a chance to relax you were able to notice just how sore your back was. You probably did more damage than you initially thought when you fell out of the tree. You would need to get that looked at. Despite your soreness, you could feel yourself sinking into the floor, your eyes fluttering closed, relieved to be safe at last. You vaguely registered Clint speaking to the pilot, telling them that you’d found jack shit before you heard him settle down behind you. His head came to rest next to yours as he let out a deep sigh, likely just as relieved as you were to not be stuck up a tree anymore.

You could feel him staring at you and you grinned shyly, remembering your unfinished conversation. Clint’s hand came up to rest against your face and you turned to him, opening your eyes. His handsome features only slightly marred by your sleepless night. You realized then that you must look like crap. Three days without showering coupled with the terrible night you’d just experienced probably hadn’t done anything for your appearance. You found yourself feeling self-conscious, making to pull away from him, but Clint’s hand on the back of your head kept you in place. Just as you lifted your eyes to meet his again, he pressed his lips to your forehead. It was brief, only there for a second before he was turning away to spread out on the floor.

“You and I are gonna have a chat later.” He said, smiling to himself and tucking the hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair behind his head. You smirked, gazing up at the ceiling of the jet. Fine if he wanted to play like that.

“Oh really? Chat? Is that what we’re gonna do?” You felt his grip tighten in your hair before he flicked you. “Ow”

“Hm, don’t tease woman. You’ve already got me, no need to threaten me with a good time.”

Your face broke into a full smile as you turned to nuzzle your face into his neck. He pulled you closer and turned his face to you, this time his lips finding your cheek, lingering there for a few moments. Finally, he was yours and you were his and that was more than you could have ever hope for.

[theclintbartonbraindump]

Clint Barton x Reader - N(ice) Doggies Ch. 2

Pairings - Clint Barton (Hawkeye) x Reader (That would be you)

Word count - 1,727

Warnings - Do I really need to warn people about language?

You and Clint settle in for the long, cold night. More fluffy goodness. Enjoy! Please feel free to leave me comments and suggestions. Probably one more chapter after this one.

__________

You started to settle into your spot in the tent, unzipping your coat and beginning the slow process of easing it from your shoulders. Every movement sent waves of discomfort surging through your muscles which had grown stiff and tired from the cold. You couldn’t bring yourself to move the coat past where it was now hanging loosely at your elbows, so you turned your attention towards untying your boots. However, your numb fingers completely lacked the dexterity necessary to complete the task. You tried to shake the cold from your digits as Clint half slid half fell rather unceremoniously into his spot next to you in the tent. Wait, his spot next to you? The realization that you would, in fact, be sleeping next to one Clint Barton had you doing a mental facepalm at yourself. Of course, we’re sleeping next to each other you dummy, what was he gonna do, sleep outside? Even still you were forcing yourself not to blush at the thought. Frankly, it was a miracle that you’d managed to avoid this inevitability to this point, but up until now every time one of you had been sleeping the other had been on watch. It was bound to happen sooner or later, just stop overthinking it Jesus, you’re a goddamn SHIELD agent, get a hold of yourself.

“Well, sure is cozy in here now ain’t it?” Clint exclaimed, ruining your internal pep-talk. He was probably just trying to lighten the heavy silence that you now realized had fallen over the tent despite the wind whipping around outside, but his comment only served to make you pull further into yourself. God, why couldn’t you just act like a normal human being? It’s wasn’t like anything interesting was going to happen. You cleared your throat with a cough and forced out an incredibly weak reply.

“Yep, sure is.” You hadn’t meant for it to sound so pathetic. You would tell yourself later that it was the cold, dry air messing with your vocal cords, but who were you kidding. Definitely not Clint because he turned to you with a smirk after taking one last look outside, zipping up the tent, and reaching up to turn on the small battery-powered lamp that hung from a hook at the apex of the tent supports.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Worried I’ll bite you or something?” You didn’t look at his face, you couldn’t. Just forced yourself to continue struggling with your boot laces. There was a witty comeback in you somewhere, you knew there was, but right now it was likely drowning beneath your own embarrassment. You only managed a strangled laugh, but even that crossed your lips as more of a whimper. Back to the laces. Shit, fingers why won’t you work?

Clint, ever the perceptive one, finally peered down your body to where you were continuing to struggle.

“Oh, for the love of God would you just let me do it.” He sighed, swatting your hands away and taking up their previous occupation. You stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to decide if you should push him away and muscle through because you were a big girl who didn’t need help untying her freaking shoes. However, he’d already managed to undo the first knot and was now cursing at the second, far more progress than you’d made in nearly ten minutes, so you decided to let him be. You muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ as he finally loosened the tie on your first boot and was moving over to the second. He looked up at you briefly, shooting you a half-smile and then returned to his concentrated efforts.

“You’re welcome, but Jesus, woman! Did you have to double-knot them? Seriously, what pirate did you learn knot tying from?”

“I didn’t want to have to stop and retie them six million times! And no, it wasn’t a pirate. My brother taught me.” You crossed your arms over your chest almost reflexively. It had been nearly seven years since your brother’s death, but the subject still made you defensive. Clint knew as much and immediately started to backtrack and apologize before you stopped him.

“Don’t. It’s ok, I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to go all lock-down mode every time somebody brings it up. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.” You lowered your head, toying with the fraying edge of your sleeping bag, trying to ignore the burning look that Clint was likely currently sending into the crown of your head.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, as if he was trying not to startle you. His hand came into view as he brought his thumb underneath your chin, lifting your head so that you were forced to look at him. “Everybody has those hard days. You’re allowed to be upset, don’t let anybody tell you different.”

This was why you likely Clint so much, you thought. Despite being a royal pain in the ass even on his best days, he could still have these moments where he was 100% genuine. You’d come to know that, in these moments, Clint was really trying to tell you that you could trust him, that you didn’t need to feel alone. You would always try to convey the same to him in his lowest moments, that you could be that person for him too, but you were sure that it never came across in the same way that Clint was able to make you feel.

You smiled at him, blinking small tears from your eyes, and took a breath as Clint lowered his hands back to your shoes and finally freed you from the frozen leather. You brought your socked feet together in front of you and slowly started working your numb toes with your fingers.

“Need some help with that too?” Clint asked you playfully. You looked up at him and the look of complete juvenile glee that he shot you had you rolling your eyes so hard the Earth shifted off its axis.

“Do NOT touch my feet.”

“Ok, ok. Yeesh, no foot kinks in this tent then, I guess.”

“Am I mistaken or is that disappointment I hear in your voice, Mr. Barton?” You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, even though you knew he’d get back at you for it. His retribution came swiftly in the form of Clint tossing his sleeping bag over your head, placing you in darkness and enveloping you in his scent. You pulled the material from around you, grimacing slightly, and pushed it back over towards him.

“Yikes, now I know that you definitely haven’t showered in three days.” Clint looked you dead in the eye. He seemed genuinely offended and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh yeah, well you don’t exactly smell like a dozen roses over there either, princess.”

“I never said I didn’t smell, I just said that you did! Oh no…” Not even your near-decade of SHIELD experience and training could’ve prepared you for Clint’s sneak attack. Before you had registered that he’d even moved you were being tackled with Clint landing half on top of you. You shrieked and began swatting at his arms and chest in a weak attempt to get him off you. Clint returned the favor by poking you in your side and before you could stop yourself your hips were surging forward as another shriek passed your lips. “No, no, no, no, no! Do not do that!”

“Don’t do what? This” He smiled brightly before poking you on the other side and you wiggled to try and get away from him, but it was no use, the tickle war had begun. If it could be called a war at all, for you could do little from your position to retaliate other than try to turn away and throw an elbow at him, which he deflected every time. Before long the two of you were giggling and breathless as Clint continued to poke his fingers into your side and up your neck and you tried to form some coherent thought in between your giggles and pleas for mercy so that you would be able to maybe bring your legs into the picture and flip him over. Somewhere along the line you gave up your plans of domination and just hoped Clint would listen to your pleas.

“Ok, ok I give, please mercy, Uncle! Ow! Fuck! I don’t know, avocado! We didn’t establish a safe word!” That earned you a full belly laugh from Clint as he finally rolled off of you, freeing you to sit up and land a couple good hits on him. He was still laughing as he took your punches in good spirit.

“Your safe word is avocado?” He asked after he could form coherent words again.

“Well, it wasn’t, but I guess it is now.” Clint erupted in another wave of laughter, actually rolling on the floor of the tent until you yanked his sleeping bag out from under his head and shoved it in his face. You smiled at him and began clearing a spot to lay your own sleeping bag out in. Clint sat up, still giggling like an idiot.

“Hey, at least it warmed up in here.” He was right, the temperature had shifted and now your cheeks were burning.

“You are such an ass.”

“Maybe, but you love me anyway, right?” He asked, looking to you for your answer. You gave him the best annoyed expression you could muster as you settled into your sleeping bag. “Right?” “Goodnight, Clint.” You reached up and clicked off the lamp, not caring that the archer still hadn’t bothered to straighten out his own sleeping bag or even take off his own boots yet.

“Right?”

You sighed as you pulled your coat over top of you for an extra layer against the cold. The wind seemed to be dying down outside and you prayed that this would be the last night you ever had to spend in the Siberian wilderness. Not that it had been all bad, the trip had had its moments. All of which you could attribute to the fact that you were out here with Clint and not anyone else. You smiled to yourself as the archer finally settled down next to you. Things could definitely be worse.

“Right.”

[theclintbartonbraindump]

Clint Barton x Reader - N(ice) Doggies Ch. 1

Pairing - Clint Barton (Hawkeye) x Reader (that’s you)

Word count - 1772

Warnings - Language I guess, but what did you expect.

This is my first fic that I am actually posting! There will be at least one more chapter, possibly two depending on where it goes and how wordy I get. Just something nice and fluffy. Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions, I’m always looking to improve! Enjoy!

__________

“Did you see that?” The words came from Clint’s mouth as a stuttered hiss as another gust of icy wind whipped around him. The small valley the two of you had chosen to settle down in for the night was offering about as much protection from the Russian winter as a wet blanket. Even with the tent blocking you from the majority of the wind you could still feel wave after wave of what felt like liquid ice traveling under your chin and down the front of your coat. That whole experience was nothing short of miserable.

You and Clint had been told this was the tamest January this part of Siberia had seen in over a decade. “Thank God for that global warming,” the hotel manager had quipped, earning a look from you that was so cold it probably would’ve seen the global crisis reversed. If this was mother nature’s idea of tame you hated to think what she might throw at you if you ever showed up at her door unannounced, interrupting her favorite soap opera.

You shivered aimlessly as the hand Clint had been using to gesture towards whatever he’d apparently seen quickly retreated back to his coat pocket. Despite the violent protest from your neck, which had grown painfully stiff from the cold and your hopeless shivering, you lifted your gaze to match his own. You knew it was probably nothing, just shapes in the snow as is swirled through the trees, but you also knew that he’d keep pestering you about it if you didn’t make some attempt to ease his paranoia. As you suspected your eye met nothing but the endless sea of conifers, painted white by the blasting snow. You tried looking beyond the tree line, hoping to give Clint the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t just seeing things, but again there was nothing. You saw only the same thing you’d seen for the past three days, trees and snow. The most interesting thing you’d seen on your little Russian excursion was an owl, landing talons first on an unsuspecting field mouse. You looked back to Clint with sarcastic concern.

“I wasn’t aware that hypothermia also caused hallucinations. Or is that the sleep deprivation acting up again. I told you I could take a longer watch.”

“And I told you I am fine, I don’t need more sleep, Mom!” The emphasis he threw onto the last word made you smile as you turned back to the small fire that was now in serious danger of being blown out. It had taken the two of you nearly two hours and Clint using his body as a shield to finally get it lit. If it died now you were certain you would resign yourself to the same fate without a second thought. Damn wind! Weren’t the trees supposed to protect you from this shit?

Clint ignored your amusement at his outburst and turned his gaze towards some distant point beyond the tree. He lingered there quietly for a few more moments before continuing in his defense.

“And I’m not crazy. I definitely saw something.”

“Well Hawkeye, I’ll just have to take your word for it, I guess. You are the eyes of this duo after all.”

You didn’t even have to look up to know that a mischievous smirk had crawled its way onto his lips.

“Oh yeah, what does that make you?”

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Mom, apparently.”

Clint playfully swat at your arm, earning himself a feigned look of anguish to which he just smirked.

“I guess somebody’s gotta keep an eye on me.” He mused.

“If Natasha gave up I don’t know how SHIELD expects me to do any better.” The Russian assassin, and your personal friend, you were more than a little proud to say, had turned the walking catastrophe that was Clint Barton over to you for a couple of missions while she was “on vacation”. Knowing full well that Natasha would sooner be dead than take any well-deserved time off, you guessed that this was just her way of telling you that she was off on an extended solo mission that required her full attention. i.e. she didn’t have time to babysit the strangely easily distracted archer. Clint was the best marksman in the world, there was no doubting that, but his lack of any real formal training showed in some unusual ways. Most recently you’d noticed that it reared its head in Clint’s inability to focus on any one thing for more than exactly seven minutes. Why seven, you had no idea, but you’d clocked it more than once and each time at the seven-minute mark he’d be turning to you with some random thought, usually pertaining to food. The man really just needed someone to keep him on target, literally.

“What makes you say that? I think you’re doing a great job.”

While you wanted to be surprised that Clint hadn’t even pretended to be offended by your previous comment, you couldn’t manage it, because there it was again. You felt it every time he gave you that lopsided smile. It was like he knew the power it had over you. Like he knew it would always make you forget whatever scold or self-deprecating remark you had been planning to make. It’s like he knew just how to make your heart feel lite but turn your knees to lead at the same time. You’d known each other for years but had only really been able to get the chance to know the real Clint Barton over the past few weeks and he was still a mystery to you. You were now more confused about the archer than you had ever been and you didn’t know if his remarks were meant as mischief or if he truly meant it all to be endearing. Clint’s sense of humor, or rather his personality to be honest, always made it difficult to discern the sincere from the sarcasm.

You lowered your head a bit further to hide the blush that was forcing its way to your cheeks. True it would’ve been hidden under layers of rosy, snow-blasted skin, but you couldn’t take the chance. You smiled and went back to poking hopelessly at the fire before finally giving up. In its unattended state, the flames began to wither and eventually choked out of existence. Neither of you made a move to save it so as the fire finally flickered out the cold began to seep its way back into your bones. Not only that, but you were now very aware that night had fallen. Without the fire and with little to no moonlight reaching through the dense canopy of pine trees, you and Clint found yourselves enveloped in the near pitch black.

“Could be worse.” Clint piped up as he shifted closer to you.

“Really? Even with Bigfoot out there creeping on up.”

“I’m serious!”

“How Clint? How does this get worse? I’m sitting here freezing my ass off in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere Russia for absolutely no reason at all.”

Ok, maybe not no reason. You had been sent out here for a pretty legitimate reason actually. Something about Hydra recruiting in the area in the hopes of setting up a base. But days worth of trudging through the snow surrounding your coordinates had only proved what you’d guessed after about the eighth hour of your search. This was all a wild goose chase. Clint had radioed in to report as much only to be met with the news that you’d be forced to stay in the wilderness for at least another 24 hours due to inclement weather. Only once the storm cleared would you be evacuated. That was 36 hours ago, and the snow was showing no signs of relenting. To make matters worse your food stores were running low. You either needed to be rescued or to find the town you had started out in soon or they’d be adding you to the town folklore about people who never came out of these woods.

“There could be wolves.” You stared at him. Jesus Christ why was he like this?

“Wolves?”

“Yeah, you know, wolves. Like doggies only bigger and hungrier.” Why did he look so proud of himself?

“I know what they are, dingus.” You threw and ill-conceived snowball at him in retaliation for the lame joke that still had you chuckling despite yourself. Clint attempted to get his revenge by tackling you, only to be met with an armful of the snow you’d just been sitting in. You looked down at him amused from where you were now standing before gazing out once again past the trees. “You better not jinx us. There’s no way you and I are fighting off monster dogs in our sorry state.”

“Aw c’mon, don’t worry. If there was a pack in the area they would’ve found us by now.” He sounded so nonchalant as he picked himself up and brushed the snow from his pants and jacket. Like he hadn’t just been cracking jokes about one of the many creatures in the region that could and would definitely tear you to shreds. “Come on, let’s get inside. No use staying out here in Jack Frost’s asshole.”

“You go ahead. I’ll keep watch for a while.” You started to take your place back on the ground when Clint caught your arm.

“Of what? The pinecones? Look the fire’s blown out and there’s nothing to see out here, sweetheart. At this point, if there is anything out there you’ll hear it before you see it. Storm’s picking back up. Even I can’t see more than 10 feet ahead out here. Best to just stay in and wait it out.”

His words were all but lost on you after the utterance of the new nickname. Clint had a rep for be a pretentious flirt and you were definitely no stranger to that side of him. You’d been subject to his bad pick-up lines on so many occasions you had started keeping a tally. None of it ever really got to you, or so you had convinced yourself, but there was something in it this time that made you stop and do a mental double-take. Maybe you were overthinking this. You were definitely overthinking this. But then again, he looked more sincere than playful. You shook yourself out of your mild shock when you realized that Clint had been staring at you expectantly. You decided to blame his sudden change in demeanor on the shit circumstances you found yourselves in as you knelt down to climb into the tent.