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“Ms. Y/L/N, if it’s of any interest to you, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Barton, and Captain Rogers have just returned from their mission.” Out of habit, you looked towards the ceiling where the friendly AI voice had originated, even though you knew nothing would be there. You let out a small sigh of relief at the notification.
“No injuries, right?”
“I would’ve notified you immediately. Only minor cuts and bruises.”
“Thanks, J.” You put down the book you’d been reading and made your way over to the empty field behind the compound, where the quinjet usually landed. You watched the ramp fall, a smile playing on your face, eager to see your friends. You couldn’t wait to tell everyone what you’d caught Wanda and Rhodey doing while they were away. That is until you saw Clint’s body being held up by Sam and Steve. You rushed over, in a panic.
“Nat?” You asked earnestly. Nat turned from where she was watching Clint and faced you. “I thought JARVIS said nobody was hurt. What the hell is going on?” Your favorite redhead placed a gentle hand under your chin, tipping it upwards.
“Hey,” She soothed. “It’s just exhaustion. He was awake for 30 hours straight, he just needs some sleep,” She paused, cocked her head, and grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Your boyfriend should be okay.” At that, you rolled your eyes and shrugged off her hand.
“He’s not my-”
“Ah ah!” She cut you off, plugging her ears and walking backwards towards the compound. “I can’t hear you!” Her childishness made you grin, and you chased after her.
***
“Aw, you’re not coming?” Scott asked, giving his best puppy-dog-eyes look.
“THAT’s what she said.” Tony grinned at you from the other side of the kitchen island, clearly proud of his little joke. Ignoring him, you addressed Scott instead.
“Don’t give me that look, Scott. I’ve gone bowling with you nerds every other week this month. I think I deserve a little me time.” Tony, ever the little shit, intervened.
“Is it that? Or could it be the fact that one Clint Barton will be staying behind with you as well?” You threw a dishrag at him, smacking him softly in the face.
“Shut up.”
“Y/N and Clint sitting in a tree-”
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Scott screeched.
“He’s not even awake-” It was no use. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t make Scott and Tony stop, and the kitchen area in the compound slowly dissolved into chaos. Scott turned to face away from you and rubbed his hands up and down his back as if someone was making out with him, while Tony had JARVIS play “My Heart Will Go On” over the sound system. Moments later, Steve walked in and, clearly confused and taken aback, looked at you. All you could do was shrug. Steve stared at the now-ballroom-dancing pair, who were both unaware of his presence, bemusedly.
“Near, far, wherev-”
“Alright, alright that’s enough.” At the sound of Steve’s voice, Tony stopped singing immediately, choosing to shriek and fall behind the kitchen counter instead. “Stark, Lang, we’re waiting for you in the van.”
“JARVIS, call Life Alert, I think my hip’s broken.” Tony groaned from his spot on the floor.
***
Approximately one hour later, you were neck deep in Betty Crocker brownie mix, humming along to the holiday music playing throughout the kitchen. The peacefulness was wonderful, and you absolutely reveled in it. It wasn’t very often that you got a whole evening to yourself in the compound. Practically every night consisted of some form of shenanigans or another, so you were grateful for tonight. The lull of the soft music and the smell of brownies only heightened your happiness.
“Are you really playing Christmas music in May?” You whirled around only to find Clint standing there, wrapped up in a blanket, smiling at you. For a moment, you were dumbfounded, absolutely in awe of how handsome he looked. Especially with his bedhead and low-slung grey sweats. Your eyes raked over his body up and down, slowly.
Clint clearing his voice snapped you out of it, and your cheeks went red. “Don’t kill my vibe, Barton. I’m thriving right now.” He grinned at you and the brownie batter that was spattered across your face (peaceful does not equal clean, okay?), and opened his mouth to say something, but instead fell into a fit of harsh coughs.
Realization dawned on you, and you figured out why he was so wrapped up in a blanket, shivering. “Jesus, Clint. Hang on.” You grabbed him a tall glass of water and placed it down in front of him, motioning for him to take a seat on one of the stools at the island. As Clint chugged down the water, he choked on a cough, and spit water out everywhere. You were pretty sure your lip was bleeding from trying to hold back your laughter.
“Shit!” He groaned. You tossed him a dishrag, laughing lightly, and watched him intently as he tried to mop up his mess. His eyes met yours, and he stared at you for a moment, which terrified you. What was he thinking? What did you do? He cleared his throat again. “Don’t you have brownies to be taking care of?” Your eyes went wide.
“Shit!” You mimicked, and rushed over to the brownies, whipping them out of the oven, and placing them on the counter. A tray of burnt, utterly blackened and hardened brownies stared back at you. “Aw, my brownies.” Jutting your bottom lip out, you crossed your arms and pouted.
“No!” Clint whined from his stool. Scoffing, you scraped the burnt brownies out of the pan into the garbage.
“S’not like I was gonna let you have any. I wouldn’t want your sick all over my brownies.”
“Hey,” He wrapped himself tighter in his blanket and grabbed a handful of tissues. “It’s just a cold. M’not that sick.” At that, you lost it. You’d never noticed how congested Clint sounded before, you’d been too busy admiring him. But now, it might’ve singlehandedly been the funniest thing you’d ever heard. His determination in trying to convince you that he wasn’t sick was admirable, but it was hard to take him seriously with him looking so…awful (adorable, but awful). He scowled at you, and you responded, like the mature adult that you are, by sticking your tongue out.
It was easy like this. Really, really easy. As much as everyone else teased and joked about you and Clint, you didn’t really mind, and neither did he. He was, and hopefully always will be, your best friend. As much as he was gorgeous, funny, and a big dork, you knew you could enjoy that without the “girlfriend” label. You didn’t want to lose what you had with Clint because of a dumb crush.
“Ugh. You’re so rude.” He whined. Watching him intently, Clint hopped off of the barstool and made his way to the other side of the kitchen island. “You don’t wanna make me brownies? I’ll make them myself.”
“This should be interesting,” Clint caught your eye as you said that, scowling at you once again. “Brownie mix is in the back right corner of the fourth shelf in the pantry.” He stared at you incredulously.
“How did you-”
“I stress bake, Clint.” Without another word, you turned to grab the things he’d need from the fridge and set them down on the counter.
“Hey Y/N?” He moved over to where you were, blanket and all. “Where’s the oven? It said somewhere that I have to preheat it to 350 degrees, but I don’t know where it is.” You stared at him blankly, and Clint’s face slowly turned fearful. “Look if you’re gonna hit me…”
“Clint, you’ve lived here for how long? Months? Years?” He looked away in shame and nodded softly. “My question is how the hell do you not know where the oven is? How are you still alive?” He struggled with the question for a bit before raising his index finger at you, as if he was accusing you of something.
“Listen here, missy. I only know where the coffee pot and pantry are. I’ve been running on coffee and protein bars for six years and counting, and I’m still alive.”
“Clint! That’s not something to be proud of!”
“Scott says it’s cool! So does Peter!”
“Neither Scott nor Peter are capable of making good choices!” Rolling your eyes, you turn the oven dial to 350 degrees. “While this heats up, you make the batter. Follow the instructions on the box.” Clint’s eyes widened, and he started fidgeting slightly.
“Uh…” He chuckled nervously, scratching his head. “I kinda…Well, you see…I sorta… I kind of threw out the box.” God, you liked this idiot? This idiot was your best friend. Leaning against the counter, staring straight into his soul, you called JARVIS.
“Hey, buddy, can you just read out the instructions from the brownie mix we always use?” When the AI finished, and the details were engrained into your mind, you and Clint set to work. Clint poured in the oil and water, and you cracked the eggs. When the mix was prepared, Clint started mixing it…or so you thought. One minute, you’d been grabbing the pan and cooking spray, and the next, you were watching Clint attempting to stab a liquid. You tossed down what you were holding and ran over.
“Clint, what the hell are you doing?”
“Mixing,” He pointed to the bowl, raising an eyebrow. “Duh.”
“Stabbing does not equal mixing.”
“Tell that to Natasha.” He muttered. A moment of silence ensued before both of you burst out laughing. You smacked him lightly on the chest.
“Stop…I’m 99% sure she heard you.” Clint rolled his eyes.
“She’s out right now, Y/N.”
“We’re talking about Natasha Romanoff, Clint. She could be on another planet and still hear us if we were talking shit.” You glanced down at the mess that he’d made. “Let’s fix this mess, shall we?” Before you realized what you were doing, you placed your hand on his.
Was that your heartbeat you were hearing? God, what did you do? You glanced at him, flashing a brief smile before turning directly back to the hand that now laid on his. Too late now dipshit. Just help him mix it so you can get out of here and cry.
“Here.” What you hoped looked like a calm face, you slowly started moving his hand in a circle, mixing the batter. You felt his gaze on the back of your head, and you were suddenly acutely aware of how much shorter you were than him, but more importantly, how close you were to him, pressed between him and the counter. “Got it?”
You turned back around to face him, and removed your hand from his. You couldn’t identify the look on his face, which only made you panic more. My God, you were an idiot. What were you thinking? This was not going to end-
“Kiss me.” Your head snapped up so quickly, you thought you heard a crack. Did Mr. Barton just ask you to kiss him? Incredulously, you stared up at him. Holy shit! After what felt like ages you found your voice.
“Clint-” You croaked out. His face fell. A lot.
“Shit. I’m sorry. That was…I’m sorry, just forget I ever said anything. I’m an idiot. That was uncalled for. I’m sorry-”
And suddenly your lips were on his, and the rest of the world melted away. What was tender at first became more heated and passionate, but there was no lust there. Your hands slid up and raked through his hair, taking in every beautiful inch of him. One of his hands cupped the base of your neck, and the other, the small of your back. You pressed into each other, desperate for more, but all too soon, he pulled away, leaving you breathless.
“Fuck!” You yelled, distraught. Clint dropped his hands immediately.
“What Y/N? Shit, did I do something wrong?” He paused. “Do you not…feel the same way?” You frowned up at him.
“Clinton Francis Barton, that is the dumbest question I’ve ever heard in my entire fucking life. Even dumber than your oven question,” You grabbed his face and pulled him close. “Of course I feel the same way. If you want this,” You motioned to yourself, then to him. “Then we’re doing this.” He grinned in your hands, obviously elated.
“Then why’d you swear?” He paused, and his eyes widened with realization. “Is it because I’m that fucking good?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging his slick smirk.
“Don’t get cocky, Barton.” He grabbed your hands.
“Then what?” Annoyance set in on your face, and you pouted heavily. “Then what?” He repeated, watching you pick at your nails. Fidgeting in place, you eyed him nervously.
“It’s just…” You could see him get anxious, and soon he was squirming around as well.
“Just what?”
“Ugh. I’m gonna get so sick.” You groaned, putting your face in your hands. Clint paused, and looked away from you, into an empty space, as if he was on The Office. “Hand me the tissues, Barton.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was nice out today, one of the many rarities that hailed from upstate New York. Steve, thankfully, had sensed everyone’s antsy-ness and had decided to liberate everyone from their duties today. Which, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have seemed like such a big deal, but these were the Avengers, and when Steve told them to get some air, it was like Christmas came early.
Everyone basked in the sun, doing whatever they pleased on the compound grounds. Vision hovered by Wanda and Rhodey, most likely discussing the rubber duck incident. Peter and Sam were hiding in the bushes, laughing as Bucky tried to run away from a rat that was being controlled by Peter. Tried. Steve and Natasha watched the supersoldier, amused.
“Tony! I said not to use the quinjet as a jungle gym!” Pepper stood staring up at him, clearly angry with the shenanigans he was pulling.
“I can’t hear you,” He called, as he slid off of the nose of the aircraft. “I’m too busy having fun!” He immediately regretted saying those words when a clipboard smacked him in the face.
Y/N and Clint were outside as well, enjoying the warm weather. But to say they were keeping things PG would be the understatement of the century. Scott thought it would be fun to go around in his suit, popping in and out of the ground and scaring people. Today, however, was not going to be fun for him.
He’d seen Clint and Y/N head over to the forest and decided that he’d make them his first victims. Scott pulled on the suit, and shrunk down, burrowing beneath the ground. With the help of Antonio, he made his way directly under what he thought would be Y/N and Clint. He pressed the button, and exploded from the ground, crying victoriously.
“Aha-!” Poor Scott could’ve passed out right there. There was Clint, not 20 feet away, holding Y/N against a tree, doing…things…with her. Clint and Y/N turned around at the sound, but Scott was long gone, as was his innocence.
Wordlessly, Scott made his way far, far away from them. He popped up in front of Steve and Natasha, and the former was so startled, he fell off of the chair he was sitting in. Natasha grinned at his clumsiness but then turned to Scott, whose startled breathing had caught her attention.
“Scott…?” He was a mess, trying to catch his breath and willing away the red in his cheeks. As soon as he was somewhat organized, he began to wail.
“Oh my God, Clint and Y/N! Clint and Y/N!” Natasha’s eyes went wide, and she froze in place. A startled Steve sat up stock straight, all clumsiness gone. “My eyes! My eyes!” Scott shut his eyes and started fanning at them, anxiously.
“Scott,” Natasha surged forward and covered his mouth. “Scott! It’s okay, calm down!” He shrugged her hand off.
“No they’re doing it,” He moaned. “They’re doing it!”
“I know! I know!” Steve yelled. Scott stared at the pair incredulously.
“You know?!” He screeched.
“Yes, we know and Bucky knows, but Tony doesn’t know so you have to stop screaming!”
“What’s this about me?” When Tony turned around the corner he saw, an incredible, if not, slightly weird scene displayed out before him. Steve held Scott in a headlock, who was, for some reason in his suit, half of his body beneath the ground, and Natasha was attempting to cover his mouth. They’d all frozen in place, staring at him with eyes the size of saucers. The silence grew to the point of unbearable before Scott decided he’d had enough.
“Nothing.” With that, he pressed the button, and shrunk down to a minuscule size, hiding beneath the dirt, leaving Steve and Natasha to fend for themselves.
“Stark, this doesn’t concern you,” Steve muttered, wiping off the dirt from his pants. “C’mon, Nat.” Tony watched them go, before obnoxiously blowing, then popping a bubble from his chewing gum.
“I’m gonna find out what’s going on! Romanoff, Rogers, Lang. You better watch your backs!”
***
“Hey, JARVIS, zoom in on that section of trees by the blue storage container.” He peered at the screen of his computer, analyzing the pixels. What came out of the trees had him absolutely floored.
“Holy shit.” His jaw dropped, as he watched Clint and Y/N walk out of the forest, with a messy head of hair each, and dirty clothes. His shock slowly morphed into utter glee, and soon he was giggling like a madman. “Holy shit!” He stood up from his chair and opened his office door.
“Pep! Pepper! Mrs. Potts!” He yelled. “You need to see this!” Pepper appeared at his door, confusion smeared across her face. He poked his head out of the door and looked around the dark hallway. Deeming it empty enough, he pulled Pepper inside by the arm. He pushed her down into his seat and had JARVIS rewind the footage.
“Look.” The scandalous footage began to play, and he hopped from foot to foot, eagerly awaiting her reaction. When none came, he frowned. “Pep, look-” He reached forward to tap the pixelated figures of Clint and Y/N, but Pepper stopped him.
“I know, Tony.” His confusion was clear as day on his face, and he spun Pepper around in the chair she was sitting in to face him.
“Know, how do you know?”
“I mean I know about Clint and Y/N.” Tony scoffed.
“Impossible.”
“Tony, you’re literally the last one to find out.” With that, she stood up, and left the room, shutting the door behind her, all while Tony stared at his computer, dumbfounded.
“I’m gonna kill them.” He threw himself down into the seat, before putting his face in his hands. He let out a loud, muffled groan. “I’m actually gonna kill them.”
“I would advise against that, sir.” JARVIS chimed.