Summary: It’s time for your family’s annual vacation and, just like every previous year, you are single. Unwilling to put up with the snide remarks and being the butt of everyone’s jokes, you make a drastic decision and ask your very attractive friend, Clint, to be your boyfriend for a week.
Word Count: 1,789
Warnings for the series: Angst, language, fluff, maybe some smut, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: There simply aren’t enough Clint Barton fics out there. Also, I’m a sucker for a good trope. GIF credit [X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

Six weeks later, you and Clint were sitting on the floor of the living room, playing another round of gin rummy.

“You’re cheating,” Clint declared, a small pout on his lips.

With a childish giggle, you pushed up a set of non-existent sleeves, and made a show of proving to him that you weren’t hiding cards anywhere. “See? ‘M not cheating.”

“You’ve got to be,” he muttered, darting across the floor and pushing the tank top up your stomach, granting access to his ticklish touch.

“Stop, stop it,” you laughed, swatting at his hands.

Despite your struggles, Clint pulled you onto his lap. “I need to conduct a thorough search.”

“A search involves tickling me?” you inquired, your back arching as his hands slipped along your spine.

“Not my fault your ticklish,” he noted mere seconds before palming your breasts.

The laughter died on your lips at the feel of his cool hands on your warm skin. “Still conducting your search?” you purred, rolling your hips leisurely. After removing your shirt, you rested your hands on his wide shoulders.

Clint gnawed on his bottom lip as your nipples pebbled, as your back curved, as a soft moan fell from your lips. With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, he wrapped his mouth around your nipple and sucked, hard, nipping at it with his teeth, swirling his tongue around it.

A throaty growl of his name left you as desire surged through you, settling warmly between your legs. Clint’s attention moved to your other breast, and it was as if electricity was sparking along every inch of your skin. One of his hands slid down your stomach, fingertips barely grazing your skin, before disappearing into the top of your shorts.

“Shit,” he hissed in appreciation when he found out you weren’t wearing any panties.

When he slid his fingers between your wet folds, you grabbed his face and kissed him. He tasted like wine and Chinese takeout, smelled like leather and spice; warm, comforting, home. Clint pushed in one finger, then another, groaning into the kiss as your pussy spasmed around his digits. Long fingers gripped your ass, rocking your hips in time with his pumping and curling fingers. With the heel of his hand brushing against your clit, you were well on your way to finding your release.

“Clint, please,” you whined, the breath hitching in your throat.

“What do you need, baby?” Clint gruffed.

“I… I need to cum.” Your thighs started to shake and you could feel your slick on the inside of your thighs, on his wrist, dripping onto his sweats. The coil was tight enough to snap, it just needed an extra push.

Clint’s cock jumped in interest, pushing into your thigh. “Anything you want, baby girl.”

The pad of his thumb flicked against your clit as he fucked you with his fingers, and it sent you reeling. Your back bowed and light exploded behind your eyes as you came, the orgasm washing through you, driving the air from your lungs.

Clint was pressing sloppy kisses to your neck, biting at the skin, at the pulse points. “I wanna fuck you, baby,” he ground out, literally tearing the shorts from your body, and shifting just enough that his thick cock sprang free from its confines.

Your mouth watered at the sight of the fat, opaque beads of pre-cum that were smeared away as you rolled on the condom after grabbing one from the table. With euphoria still making your body twitch, you gripped his cock.

“Then fuck me,” you purred.

With his fingers digging into your ass, Clint snapped his hips up and drove the air from your lungs. It didn’t matter that there was pain eating at the edges of the pleasure Clint was inflicting, you begged him for more.

“Har- harder,” you stammered, your breasts bouncing as you rode him.

Clint obliged with a sneer that gave a predatory gleam to his eyes. He drove into you over and over, his feet flat on the floor, legs spread for leverage, gasps of praises and a string of curses leaving him. When you arched your back, it angled your hips so that his cock was hitting your sweet spot, the one that would send you rocketing over the edge.

His mouth was on your neck, kissing, licking, sucking, and biting while the stubble on his chin burned into your flush skin. You dug your nails into his shoulders as you pulsed around him, but it wasn’t until he sucked your nipple between his teeth, biting it enough that you hissed, that you came hard enough that your toes curled.

Oh, you’d had plenty of amazing orgasms with Clint Barton at the helm, but this one left those in the dust.

Lifting your head, you stared into his lust blown eyes, grunting as his cock swelled and twitched.  You clamped onto him like a vice, and when he came, you slid your hand between your bodies and fingered yourself into another borderline-painful orgasm.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were cleaned up and lying in bed, fast asleep; the game of rummy completely forgotten about.

It was early evening the following day when you got a phone call. You were curled in against Clint, watching a movie on Netflix, your eyelids heavy, his hand smoothing up and down your arm. At first, you didn’t move to answer it, you were too comfortable, but then Clint gave your shoulder a squeeze.

You grabbed it off the table and accepted the call from your friend. “Hey, woman. How’s that brother of mine treating you?”

“You know Sam,” Stephanie chuckled.

“I know that boy better be running around, doing everything he can to make you comfortable,” you half-heartedly joked.

She really laughed at that. “You got that right.”

“Seriously though, how are you doing? I know I haven’t called much,” you started to apologize, but she cut you off.

“Hey, you got your own life happening,” she rebutted sternly. “But, to answer your question, I’m good. Still sore from the surgery, but that’s to be expected.”

You blew out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “That’s good to hear.”

“How’s Clint adapting to living with you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, there have been some… adjustments.”

“There are usually some of those.” There was a shift in her tone that you couldn’t help but notice.

You asked Clint to pause the movie, not that it wasn’t one you hadn’t seen before, but it was one of your favorites. “Not that I’m not happy you called, but what’s going on?”

“I swear to God, you have a sixth sense or something,” Stephanie murmured.

“Or something,” you repeated. “Spill it, Steph.”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded with a sigh. “Have you talked to mom?”

You scraped a hand over your face and into your hair. “Not since that day.” As pissed off as you were at Kathryn, you couldn’t stop the way your heart dropped.

“You should call her.”

“Why? Did something happen?” you inquired.

Stephanie gave a hum of your name. “You should call her.”

“Is she okay? Surely, you can tell me that much.

Clint reached out and grabbed your hand, shifting to sit on the edge of the couch as you had just done.

“Stephanie Wilson, you better answer me,” you ground out, anxiety twisting your insides.

She huffed out a breath before saying, “I’m not excusing how she has treated you.”

“Okay,” you droned, stretching the word out.

“You need to call her,” she reiterated. “It would be better if you heard it from her.”

You shoved off the couch and started pacing. “Jesus Christ, you’re really scaring me.”

“I don’t mean to,” Steph insisted gently. “I just… she said she was going to call you, and you know how she can be.”

Clint was in front of you, looking down at you curiously. “What’s going on?”

Your only answer was one of your shoulders bobbing up and down. “Just tell me she’s okay.”

“She’s fine, Y/N. Just… promise me you’ll call her.”

“Yeah,” you sighed in defeat. “I’ll call her right now.”

Sam as in the background, saying that dinner was ready. “Hey, I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you.” The call was disconnected with a shaking thumb.

“I… I don’t know,” you answered Clint’s previously asked question. “Apparently, mom has something to tell me.”

Clint curled a finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Do you want to call her?”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” you scoffed, leaning into his palm as he cupped your face.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You grabbed his wrist and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Please.”

The call to your mother as made almost a minute later. You hadn’t expected her to answer after only one ring.

“Y/N,” she said, her tone tight, guarded. “I was just going to call you.”

“Hi, mom. I uh, how are you?” you asked breathily, your heart hammering.

She took a long drink before answering. “I’m doing well. You? How’s Clint?”

“We’re good, mom. But, uh, I actually just got off the phone with Stephanie,” you started to explain.

Kathryn clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Did she… did she tell you anything?”

“Just that I should call you, that you were meaning to call me.”

There were several long moments of almost-silence, the only thing you could hear was her breathing. “Could we meet up? I… I’d rather talk about this in person.”

The knot in your throat practically doubled in size, thickening your voice when you said, “Mom, I don’t think -”

“Please, Y/N,” Kathryn said woefully.

Only when Clint squeezed your hand did you tell her, “Okay. Is tomorrow okay?”

She blew out a heavy breath. “Tomorrow is perfect. Could I come by your place?”

“Around two work for you?”

“As long as it’s a good time for you.”

You should have known then that whatever your mother had to tell you wasn’t great, she wasn’t setting strict terms or schedules.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, your voice weary.

Once the call was finished, you wrapped your arms around Clint’s neck and let out a shuddering breath. Clint pressed kisses into your hair as he hugged you tight, consoling you as tears streamed down your face.

You didn’t know what was going on, but you were suddenly scared; scared that you were going to lose your mom, the woman that had given you life and brought you into this world, the woman that raised you. Sure, you fought more than the two of you got along, but that’s what mothers and daughters did, right?

NINE

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Summary: It’s time for your family’s annual vacation and, just like every previous year, you are single. Unwilling to put up with the snide remarks and being the butt of everyone’s jokes, you make a drastic decision and ask your very attractive friend, Clint, to be your boyfriend for a week.
Word Count: 1,538
Warnings for the series: Angst, language, fluff, maybe some smut, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: There simply aren’t enough Clint Barton fics out there. Also, I’m a sucker for a good trope. GIF credit [X] This is it guys – not the final chapter, but close. In the immortal words of Michael from 10 Things I Hate About You. “The shit hath hitith the fan. Ith.”

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

It was mid-morning, you were sitting outside, a glass of lemonade in your hand. You had been watching Clint, Pietro, Sam, and Wade playing with the children for the last hour or so. They were raucous and boisterous, running around the yard, a large man behind them, their pretend growls sending shrill screams through the air.

Wanda, Vanessa, Pietro’s wife, Kayla, and Stephanie were lounging next to you, each one appreciating how sexy their men looked, the sun beating down on them, handling anything the children figuratively threw their way. Your mother was lounging in the sun, a wide-brimmed hat on her head, a pair of large sunglasses on her face, and a glass of her favorite drink in her hand; gin and tonic. Yup. It wasn’t even noon and your mother was well on her way to inebriated.

The children all came running to the table, wide grins on their faces, sweat dripping from their hair and into their eyes, claiming to be the most thirsty they’d ever been in their entire lives. All the men followed, wiping their arms against their foreheads, murmuring their appreciation when handed full glasses of lemonade.

Clint rounded the table and bent down for a kiss, curling his finger under your chin when you smiled against his lips.

“Auntie Y/N,” your niece Amelia said. “Why do you kiss Clint so much if you don’t really love him?”

There was a split-second of silence where you and Clint stared at one another. Stephanie was the one to break that silence.

“Amelia,” she chastised. “Why on earth would you ask that question?”

“I heard them,” the nine year old clarified. “After Y/N got hurt.”

You were laughing nervously and trying to get your brain to kick into action, to say something that would diffuse the situation before your cover was completely blown to shreds.

Amelia rolled her eyes and huffed. “I woke up and came down to get something to drink. That’s when I heard Auntie Y/N tell Clint that she was tired of pretending to be together.”

“No, I uh, that’s not what was uh, said,” you stammered, your hands shaking on the table.

“Uh uh,” she said loudly, her tone irritated. “I heard you!”

Your mother cleared her throat. “What was it that you heard, sweetheart?”

Great. Just fucking great.

Amelia ran to her grandmother’s side and repeated her previous statement, that she had overheard a fraction of a private conversation. Kathryn tore off her sunglasses and stared at you in a way that made your stomach drop.

“Mom, please, I can explain,” you insisted, standing from your chair, your hand blindly searching for, and immediately finding, Clint’s.

“Oh, really,” she scoffed. “You can explain lying to your entire family, to me, about falling madly in love with… with him?”

There were already tears in your eyes and your chin had started to quiver. “I didn’t… I’m not lying about it now.”

“See,” Amelia proclaimed. “I told you!” It was her triumphant cry that prompted Stephanie and Sam to help clear out everyone that didn’t directly pertain to the conversation.

While that happened, Clint was in your ear. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” you said, your voice shaking. “Not yet.” He gave your hand a squeeze and stayed by your side.

Your dad had emerged from the house just then, his brows drawn close together in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Your daughter has been lying to us,” Kathryn informed him, her eyes dark as she glared at you, her voice dripping with poisonous venom.

“I can… I can explain,” you insisted.

Donald, your father, had always been ‘on your side’ in a way that had driven a wedge between he and his wife. “I’m sure you can, sweetheart.”

You gave him a small smile of gratitude, one that made your mother roll her eyes and take a large drink. Once you opened your mouth, it was like verbal vomit; anything and everything came spewing out of you.

“You’re always on my case, mom. You never drop it! I did this because of you, because you’re so… so… fucking annoying! So, yeah, okay, it started out as a lie. I asked Clint if he would pretend to be my boyfriend so that I could have just one year without you hounding me about when I was going to find someone, that I would be the only child who hadn’t made you a grandparent. I was tired of it, mom. Tired of always being left out and made fun of.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes at that. “We’ve never made fun of you.”

“That might not have been your intention, but words hurt, mom, more than you know,” you sniffled loudly. “And I’m tired of it. You’re more interested in the lives of everyone else but mine. You have no idea what my interests and hobbies are.”

“I do, so,” she insisted. “You like to read, a lot. I always had a hard time keeping the shelves full when you were growing up.”

While reading was something that did enjoy, it wasn’t you she was referring to. “Wanda was the bookworm in the family, mom, not me.”

“Easy to mix up,” Kathryn huffed. “Painting was what you loved. I remember taking you shopping, you always went for the vibrant acrylics.”

“That was Wade,” you clarified, your voice thick and heavy. “Painting was part of his therapy after he was adopted.”

Your father rest his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Kathryn, enough is enough.”

“No,” she shot back, shrugging out of his grip. “I’ve got this. Horseback riding!”

Your shoulders sagged under the weight of disappointment. “The horses were for Pietro. He was speech delayed, and didn’t spoke a word until he saw the horses, remember?”

“That’s not right,” she insisted, her tone hard and angry.

Shaking your head, you looked up at Clint and said one word, “Peaches.”

Clint pressed a kiss to your forehead and swept away the tears that were streaming down your face with his thumbs. “Go up and pack. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Kathryn ordered as she rounded the table.

Before you knew what was happening, Clint was standing in front of you, stopping your mother dead in her tracks. Donald came up behind her and was urging her to go into the house.

“Enough is enough, Kathryn,” Clint bit out. “I have sat back and watched you do nothing but dismiss your daughter for the last five days. The only reason I haven’t said anything until now is because Y/N asked me not to, she said that there was no use in trying to get you to see anything past the end of your own nose. You’re so wrapped up in your own twisted version of what happiness and love looks like, that you are missing out on someone so goddamn amazing. You are missing out and you are going to regret it, because one day you’ll realize the enormity of what you’ve done, and it’s going to be too late. Now, I love your daughter very much, I always have, and I always will, and that is why we are leaving. I will not let you hurt her anymore.”

Clint tucked you into his side and strode inside the house, up the stairs, and inside of the room you shared. You moved through the room on auto-pilot; packing your belongings, not bothering to even fold your clothes. Ten minutes later, the two of you were in the car and heading home.

Your phone was ringing and chiming with all kinds of alarms; phone calls, voicemails, text messages. The only one you answered was Stephanie.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing she said, and that was when the dam inside of you broke.

No, you weren’t okay, not by a long shot. You started to explain everything to the best of your ability, but her calming voice cut you off.

“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” she said. “I’m just happy you finally stood up to her. I’m sorry I didn’t do or say anything sooner.”

You were sniffling loudly, wiping your nose on a kleenex you pulled out of the glovebox. “It wasn’t your fight, Steph.”

“But I’m your friend, your sister. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Stephanie, you listen to me,” you insisted calmly. “You have two beautiful children and a husband that would lay down his life for you, you’ve got another baby on the way, and your hands are already overflowing. I never, ever expected you to take on a fight that I’ve been battling for almost my entire life. Just… take care of those babies, and I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Y/N/N,” she sniffled before disconnecting the call.

Clint took your hand in his and raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles. “What do you need?”

With a gentle and sincerely happy smile, you turned your head to look at him. “I’ve got everything I need right here. Just… take me home, please.”

“As you wish,” he hummed, his lips against your knuckles once more.

EIGHT

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @badassbaker @fatalcrossbow @sunriserose1023 @alyssaj23 @ssweet-empowerment @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @palaiasaurus64 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @nyxveracity @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @melaninmarvel @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @wildefire @capsheadquaters @saharzek @speakinvain @diinofayce @mizzzpink @pebblesz892 @stevieang @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @lea—-b @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @moisttoas-t @nuggsmumreads @jobean12-blog @fireismysaftey @msshadowboxer @vechkinfan @prettybubblesintheair @kanupps06 @rainbowkisses31 @janeyboo @banlaochranda @ellie-bee242 @shieldsandsunsets @evanstandream @punkrockhufflefluff @winters-beauty @unlikelygalaxygiver @thirtiethnovember @sexyvixen7 @whope123 @mscaptainjones @awkward-walking-potato @memory-of-a-goldfish @somethingwitty-somethingsweet @minarawr @xserenax-13 @andiyholly @averyrogers83 @bionic-buckyb @princess76179 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @female-accountant @whitemoonstag @xxashy999xx @coffeewithjake @nerdgirljen @everythingisoverrated @angelsofalliteration @walkingtravesty97 @jbarnes87 @akamaiden @part-time-patronus @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @emmawatsonbelle @joannie95 @jamesbbbarnes-blog @buckysothiccbarnes @paintballkid711 @teafocus @cxptain-bxcky @letsdisneythings @marveladdicttt  @gonnadiereading @nomadstevergxrs @kaliforniacoastalteens @marvelcomicsz @tutis24 @i-speak-sarcasmmm @thebiggestmarvelnerd @attemptsatliving @thisismysecrethappyplace @glitterquadricorn @carls1022 @marvelellie @feelmyroarrrr @neeadinghugs @minahraven @brastrangled @jessica-bones-winchester @iamthemaskhewears @wheresthekillswitch @chonisberonica @tsukuyomi011 @xtina2191 @roonyxx @doewhisper-of-windclan

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Summary: It’s time for your family’s annual vacation and, just like every previous year, you are single. Unwilling to put up with the snide remarks and being the butt of everyone’s jokes, you make a drastic decision and ask your very attractive friend, Clint, to be your boyfriend for a week.
Word Count: 2,020
Warnings for the series: Angst, language, fluff, maybe some smut, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: There simply aren’t enough Clint Barton fics out there. Also, I’m a sucker for a good trope. GIF credit [X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

The next forty-eight hours were glorious.

Your head was still pounding after hitting it during the freak storm, so you tried to take it easy. Which, wasn’t that difficult, not with Clint waiting on you hand and foot. Whatever you needed, he got for you, from something as simple as a glass of water, to getting you a plate of food, cut up and prepared just the way you liked it. Basically, he was spoiling you, and you loved every minute of it. You might have even taken advantage of him a few times, but there were never any clues or indications that Clint was having a hard time with it, or that he didn’t want to do it.

But your absolute favorite part of the day was when night fell. You and Clint would retire to your room, his hand on the small of your back as you ascended the stairs. The last thing anyone wanted was for you to get dizzy and fall. Plus, it gave Clint an ‘excuse’ to touch you.

The first night, you curled into Clint as soon as he climbed into the bed.

“This feels nice,” you murmured, your arm looping around his waist.

His soft lips were on your forehead and in your hair, a hand drifting along your back. “It really does.”

You tipped your head back and kissed the corner of his mouth, chuckling because you hadn’t meant to do that. “Damn, I missed.”

“Let me help you,” Clint insisted. He curled a finger under your chin and sought out your mouth with his.

His kisses were gentle and sweet, unhurried and sublime. But then, one of you would moan and your bodies would shift. In the blink of an eye, Clint’s narrow waist was slotted perfectly between your legs, his hands wandering around your curves, drawing delicious sounds from you.

It was too much, too soon, and before you knew it, white-hot pain exploded in the back of your head, shooting straight to your eyes, making you cry out. Clint was off the bed in a flash, in the bathroom, getting a glass of water and some ibuprofen.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, embarrassment flooding through you, coloring your cheeks.

“Don’t do that,” he said, taking the glass from you and setting it on the table. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

I just… I want… your signing stopped as the words failed to come to you.

You wanted to do so much more than kiss him, to feel his body pressed to yours with layers of clothes between the two of you. You were on the verge of craving to trace your fingers over every inch of his broad frame, to feel the muscles ripple and flex under your touch, to hear his absolutely wrecked voice as he came completely unraveled. You wanted to do all of that and so much more.

So, why the apprehension, and why the use of sign language?

Five years of friendship was a lot of time, especially to you. Besides Clint, the longest relationship you’d had was with Stephanie. The two of you had been friends since grade school. Sure, since she married your brother and became a mom, the two of you didn’t keep in contact like you could have, but you understood; her priorities had changed. You couldn’t be mad at her for that.

But it was different with Clint. Not just because he lived in the same building as you, or because the two of you worked in the same school. It was something more, something deeper, something so visceral, that you would absolutely hate yourself if anything were to happen to destroy that. Something being the blossoming relationship, the profession of love, the absolute terror of finally making your mother happy.

Sign language was a huge part of who Clint was. When he was a child, he had gotten sick, really sick. The fever was intense. Rather than take his life, as it probably should have, it stole his hearing. He was deaf for almost a decade. And then, by some cosmic stroke of luck, a clinical trial had started, a clinical trial run by the world renowned Tony Stark.

Doctor Stark had made some insane medical advances over the years, ones that seemed to change the field of medicine for the better. So, when Clint was chosen to join the trial, his family had been ecstatic. They knew it was a long shot, Clint regaining a fraction of his hearing, let alone complete restoration. Ten weeks later, the trial was over, and Clint’s hearing was better than it ever was.

The entire experience made it clear to Clint what he wanted to do with his life. He went on to earn a bachelor’s and master’s degree, then gained a certification in special education. He took on teaching classes for middle school aged children that were hearing impaired in one way or the other. When he wasn’t doing that, he was teaching friends and family members of hearing impaired American Sign Language.

When you had shown an interest, he had shown you the basics at first, then started getting into the more difficult – for you- aspects of the language. You did pretty well with holding a simple conversation, but when Clint would gain momentum and start flying through the signs, you would grab his hands and beg him to slow down. To see you stumbling through the signs always brought a smile to his face. He absolutely loved to see you try, thanking you for willingness to learn.

What do you want? he asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

You, Clint. I want you.

Wearing a dopey smile, he said, You’ve got me, love.

The next day, you were feeling better. Not that you were one hundred percent, but the pressure behind your eyes was gone, as was the throbbing ache at the back of your head. You didn’t grow dizzy after pushing off of the couch or taking a seat or turning around too quickly.

When evening fell and the air grew chilly, you changed into a swimsuit and urged Clint to do the same. He looked at you with a question lighting up his eyes, but didn’t give it a voice. The two of you were relaxing in the hot tub five minutes later.

Clint splashed the water to get your attention. “C’mere,” he purred, a finger crooking hypnotically.

You made your way across the hot tub, your bottom lip between your teeth, and butterflies circling your stomach. Standing between his legs, your hands rested on his shoulders at the same time his hands found your hips. You found it hard to focus on anything other than Clint, the way his eyes drilled into yours, the way he squeezed your hips, urging you closer, the flexing of his muscles as he drew you onto his lap, the flash in his eyes right before he kissed you.

There was no pain when the kiss grew passionate, no hesitation as the thick line of his arousal pulsed against your core, no agony surging through you, only lust. You wanted Clint to take you right then and there, to mark you as his, to have total domination over your body, to claim you in a way that no other man had been able to do.

“Clint,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. His tongue and teeth were travelling down your neck, across your collar bones, and up the other side of your neck, making it difficult to think properly.

“Y/N,” he said, voice gritty. His hands were on your ass, rocking your body in time with his.

A spark of electricity slithered down your spine and settled low in your belly, radiating between your legs. “We should, uh, go inside,” you suggested.

“You’re right,” Clint agreed breathily, though he didn’t move to stand.

Your fingers were tangled in his hair as your back arched. “Clint, I mean it.”

Clint let out a moan as he pressed sloppy kisses down your chest, his nose pushing at the line of your suit. Your mouth fell open and your head lolled back as the warm heat of his mouth covered your nipple.

“I… I’m serious,” you stammered, the teasing sting of his teeth as he bit down, sucking at it through your suit.

Leaning back, he gave a heaving sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

It took almost fifteen minutes before the two of you made it to your room, and as soon as the door closed and the lock was thrown, Clint pounced, picking up where the two of you had left off in the hot tub, sans the bathing suits.

You were straddling Clint’s thighs, his thick cock buried deep inside of you, and your name sounding like sin on his tongue as you rode him, working your hips in a leisurely circle. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, the bittersweet slick that now coated his cock; your mouth watered to take him in your mouth, to taste yourself, to taste him, but that would have to wait for another time. Clint was gripping one of your shoulders as he spread his legs, pulling you down with every eager thrust of his hips.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” he praised. It didn’t matter that he had said it before, it still made your body hum and pulse with need.

“Clint, I… I…” the words of what was happening died on your tongue the moment Clint’s thumb pressed into your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in a tight circle.

“I got’chu,” he gritted out, his voice wrecked and needy.

The orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, roaring through you, tearing you apart from the inside out. It had you seeing bursts of white behind your eyelids, had your back arching painfully, had your fingers searching for purchase, your nails leaving red lines on his skin. You were a boneless, quivering, crying mess when Clint tensed beneath you, his thighs shuddering and a grunt caught in his throat as he came, his hands digging bruises into your hips and ass.

Completely spent and sated, you rolled off of him with an honest-to-God purr. Your entire body was still humming when Clint pushed off the bed. He was in the bathroom for only a few minutes, discarding the condom and getting a glass of water, which he drank greedily. It was refilled before he emerged, wearing an extremely satisfied smile.

“Thank you,” you hummed as he handed you the glass.

Once you were done, you pressed your chilled lips to his before taking your leave, disappearing into the bathroom to clean up. You emerged several minutes later to find Clint in the bed, on his side, pushed up to his elbow, and a sly grin on his face.

You crawled in next to him, giggling when he wrapped an arm around your waist and tucked you under his body, peppering your face with kisses.

“Clint, stop,” you protested weakly, your body curving into his.

He was nuzzling your neck, the short, sharp hairs on his chin scratching you. “And why should I?”

“Because it tickles,” you giggled some more.

“Well then,” Clint huffed happily, burying his face in your neck again, pulling peals of laughter from you, and it only spurred him on.

Clint stopped only when you couldn’t breathe anymore, when you were tapping his shoulder as if you were in a wrestling match, admitting your defeat. With a gruff chuckle, he rolled off of you and curled his body around yours, burying his nose in the back of your neck.

“I’m really happy when I’m with you,” you blurted out, your voice a whisper.

Fingers drifted lazily over your stomach. “I’ve never been happier, Y/N.”

No matter how badly you wanted to lie awake all night, your eyes kept drifting shut. The warmth radiating from Clint seeped into your bones, the rhythmic pounding of his heart against your back, his breath on your neck; it was too much. You were asleep a few minutes later.

SEVEN

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Summary: It’s time for your family’s annual vacation and, just like every previous year, you are single. Unwilling to put up with the snide remarks and being the butt of everyone’s jokes, you make a drastic decision and ask your very attractive friend, Clint, to be your boyfriend for a week.
Word Count: 2,571
Warnings for the series: Angst, language, fluff, maybe some smut, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: There simply aren’t enough Clint Barton fics out there. Also, I’m a sucker for a good trope. GIF found on Pinterest, couldn’t find the source.

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

When you woke, you gave a contented hum. Sometime during the night, you had rolled over so your back was against Clint’s solid chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, hand tucked under you, his body curled firmly around yours. You could even feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, steady and deep; not an inch was between the two of you.

You wanted to stay there, his body pressed deliciously and comfortingly against yours, not needing blankets because his body heat was seeping into your bones. His fingers would twitch every now and then against your side, then he would try and snuggle closer, making soft noises under his breath. You had never felt so relaxed than at that very moment. Nothing, nobody else mattered. Not your mom, not your bickering brothers and sister; it was just you and Clint, your heartbeats and breathing synced up.

But then your bladder alerted you to more pressing matters. Somehow, you managed to escape Clint’s grasp without waking him. You had to suppress a fit of giggles at the way he groaned in disappointment, his hand lazily searching for you, only to find your pillow, which he happily found comfort in.

After using the bathroom, you washed your hands and face, brushed your teeth and hair, emerging a handful of minutes later in search of your swimsuit and an outfit for hiking in. You listened closely at the door for a moment, thankful when you didn’t hear anyone up. The house being quiet meant only one thing. Okay, it meant two things; it meant that the inhabitants were sleeping, and with them asleep, you could sneak away, get some time to yourself. It didn’t hurt that there was a natural spring about three miles from the house. Without fail, you visited it every year.

Even though you knew Clint was passed out cold, you changed in the bathroom. You put what you needed for the hike into a backpack and pressed a kiss to Clint’s cheek before slipping quietly out the door. On your quiet trek through the house, you filled up a bottle of water and made a small meal for yourself to eat once you got there. With your hiking shoes on and a pair of sunglasses perched on your nose, you grabbed one of those high-energy granola bar things that tasted like cardboard dipped in sawdust with honey drizzled on top of it. And then, you were off.

It was the lack of body heat that woke Clint. Y/N had rolled over during the night, molding her body to his. In his half-asleep state, he couldn’t stop himself from curling his arm around her, holding her close, their bodies slotting together perfectly.

God, he could have stayed that way forever, just the two of them, no griping mother, no chaos.

While the pillow smelled exactly like Y/N’s vanilla bean shampoo, it was a poor replacement for her body, her very soft and curvy body. Clint rolled to his back with a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes, making his vision blurry when his eyes opened.

He stayed there for an unknown amount of time, staring at the ceiling, smiling at the memory of her body against his, the way she’d shift in her sleep, sending shudders down his spine. It had been difficult not to react. He had wanted to cup her face in his hands and kiss her breathless, to hear those sounds she made before, to feel every soft curve of her bare skin, to smell her. With a groan of frustration, Clint got out of bed and went about getting ready.

Sam found Clint in the kitchen several minutes later. “Tell me you just started a pot.”

“You damn right I did,” Clint chuckled as he grabbed two mugs from the cupboard.

Sam was in the fridge, grabbing a jug of milk. “You’re my hero.”

It didn’t take long for the coffee to percolate, but it felt like forever until Clint was able to fill the mugs with the nectar of the gods. The two men sat outside watching as several children enjoying the playground.

“You seen Y/N this morning?” Clint asked curiously.

“Not yet,” was Sam’s simple answer. “It’s nice out, she’s probably hiking.”

After taking a cautious drink of the hot coffee, Clint noticed that Wade, Vanessa, Wanda, and Pietro strolled outside. It was then that Clint asked, “She go alone?”

Clint shifted uneasily in the chair as Sam’s answer. “She usually does. There’s a natural spring a few miles out, calls it her ‘quiet spot.’”

Unease ate at his stomach and chest, he didn’t like it that Y/N had gone hiking alone. He had seen the terrain first hand, it wasn’t easy by any means. If she fell and got hurt, or attacked by a wild animal… did she bring her phone? Was there reception out there? What if –

“Easy, man,” Sam teased, his hand on Clint’s shoulders. “She’s a big girl, can handle almost anything nature throws at her.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clint chuckled nervously. “I know.”

Sam leaned over the table so that his elbows were resting on the edge, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were sizing Clint up. “You love her, don’t you?”

Remember that bundle of nerves in his throat and stomach? Yeah, they just exploded.

“I mean, I don’t… it’s not… it’s too early to know that,” he stumbled over the words as if they were foreign.

“You’ve known her for five years, Clint,” Sam chuckled warmly. “It’s not too early, not by a long shot. Look, you gotta tell her how you feel, man.”

Clint’s voice was tremulous when he asked, “What if… what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Sam noted. “There’s more than friendship there.”

As Clint nodded, his gaze shifted from Y/N’s brother to the beauty of nature surrounding them. In that moment, he could see why Y/N came out here every here, whether she got along with her mother or not. It was lush and rich colors, far as the eye could see.

Or it had been a couple of minutes ago.

“Sam, what’s the weather supposed to be like today?” Clint asked as his heart plummeted into his stomach.

“Sunshine and eighty. Why?” Sam’s eyes flew to where Clint was pointing.

Dark clouds with lightning dancing inside of them rushed towards the property. “That’s fuckin’ why.”

Thunder erupted at that moment, loud and jarring, scaring the children, sending them screaming, seeking safety inside of the house. The lightning that followed electrified the air, made the hairs on both men’s arm stand. Clint and Sam exchanged a look before running inside where Sam tore open the closet to grab a set of parkas and the high beam flashlights.

Clint took the stairs three at a time to put on the hiking boots he had worn yesterday. After they were secured to his feet, he scanned the room quickly, wondering if there was anything of Y/N’s he should bring. Unable to come up with anything, Clint rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

“You’re not going out there,” Kathryn was ordering her son.

“Like hell I’m not,” Sam ground out. “Y/N is out there, mom. She’s not prepared for that.” That, descended upon the house in a matter of seconds. Rain fell in sheets, making everything white.

She was shaking her head and pacing in the kitchen. “Neither are you.”

Wade had had enough. “Look, mom, I love you, but shut the fuck up. We’re going, that’s it, suck it up, buttercup.”

Five minutes later, the three men were wearing baseball hats under the hood of their parka. The bills helped shield their eyes from the rain, only slightly. Sam took the lead since he knew exactly where the spring was. The flashlights did little to cut through the sheets of rain, nor were their shouts of Y/N heard over the waterfall. The rolling thunder and crackling lighting served as backup for the symphony of the rain.

Clint had a sinking feeling in his stomach that only grew the further from the house they got. He had only come to the realization of just how much he loved Y/N, and now it felt like he was going to lose her.

The rain had started falling harder, making it incredibly difficult to see the bright red of Wade’s parka in front of him as he shouted out, “How close are we?”

Wade looked over his shoulder. “I don’t know. Let’s ask Sam!”

“Sam,” Clint hollered, catching up to leader. “How close are we?”

“We’re not even a mile out,” was his answer. “To be honest, I don’t know where we’re going right now. I can’t see shit.”

Shaking his head, Clint ground out, “We aren’t heading back.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Let’s go,” Sam ordered, continuing in what he hoped was the right direction.

Clint didn’t know how long they had been walking when Wade cried out, “I see her!”

The trio of men ran over to where Y/N was. She must have fallen, slid in the mud and twisted her ankle. Clint noticed the discolored skin as he dropped down to his knees. Her eyes were closed against the rain, her body completely lax.

While Sam bent down to see if he could rouse his sister, Wade held up part of his parka to block the deluge of rain. “She okay, bro?”

“She hit her head,” Sam said, his hand coming away crimson from the back of her head. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature worked its way down all their spines.

“C’mon,” Clint bellowed. “Let’s get her home.”

You should have checked the weather before you left. It had been crisp and sunny for the entirety of the hike, and for another hour while you went for a dip in the natural spring. The water was perfect, it always was. Not too cold, not too hot, and crystal clear, allowing you to see everything below the surface. You’d gone diving before, but you never strayed too far.

It wasn’t until you were dried off and changed that the temperature dipped. Goosebumps spread like wildfire on your skin as you turned around to see the reason for the change.

“Motherfucker,” you gasped.

The clouds were dark and menacing as they raced through the sky. You hurriedly shoved everything into the backpack and tore off down the trail. You knew you weren’t going to make it home before the storm found you, but the fear had taken hold, driving ice through your veins, removing all of your inhibitions as you fled. You jumped over rocks and any fallen limbs you came across carelessly; you just wanted to get home.

You could hear the roar of rain and the murderous growl of thunder as the storm approached, and it absolutely terrified you. In a fraction of a second, you were drenched, your feet were slapping into small ponds, and you couldn’t see a goddamn thing.

The last thing you remembered was your ankle twisting and gravity doing its job, pulling you to the ground,and a sharp pain exploding through the back of your head as it collided with a rock.

It was dark when you woke, and the moment you opened your eyes you regretted it. The pain was sharp, stealing your breath, making your stomach roll. Someone was murmuring softly as the pain slowly started to ebb. You knew that voice; it was Clint.

“You’re alright,” he cooed. “Just take it easy.” He had one of your hands in his, the other behind your back, helping you to sit up. He moved you slowly, giving your brain time to adjust your equilibrium.

“Thanks,” you rasped, your throat dry.

There was a cup of water in his hands, one that he slid a straw into. You drank from it, sighing as the cool liquid slid down your throat. When you finished, you groaned your appreciation.

With his head shaking, Clint took your hands in one of his. He opened his mouth a couple times to say something, but the words never left his mouth. You weren’t sure if you were seeing things, but when Clint swiped a hand over his face, you knew for sure that there were tears falling from his eyes.

“What is it?” you implored softly.

Another shake of his head. His eyes remained downcast, as if he were afraid to look at you.

“Clint, look at me,” you begged, emotion taking hold of your voice, thickening it. “Please.”

Several long moments passed before his eyes met yours and it made you suck in a deep breath. Over the last five years, you had seen every emotion shine in Clint’s eyes, but they paled in comparison to what you saw now.

“I was so scared, Y/N. I thought I lost you,” he admitted, his voice gritty.

You shifted in your spot. “You didn’t, though. I’m right here. Wade, Sam, and you… you saved me.”

“I can’t lose you,” Clint went on as if you hadn’t said anything. “Not now, not when… not when I feel this way.”

Butterflies attempted to climb up your throat, making you stammer. “And how… how is… how is it that you feel?”

Clint went silent, the breath rushing out of him and blowing hot against your chin and neck. His eyes were flicking around your face as if trying to read your mind, to gauge how you would react to the words he said next. However prepared you thought you had been, you were wrong.

“I love you, Y/N,” he finally said. “Head over heels, completely and irrevocably in love with you.”

You thought you had misheard him. “I… I’m… what?”

Clint gave a playful smile. “I love you. I love you and I’m tired of pretending to be your boyfriend.”

“You do, you are?” you questioned, the anxiety in your chest building in size.

Clint had never lied to you, not once in the five years you had known him. So, you didn’t know why you thought he would do that now. Maybe it was all the years of your mother’s negative attitude towards you, the jokes that were made at your expense, the way your mother sighed in disapproval whenever you told her that no, you didn’t have a boyfriend, that you would be spending another week there, alone, surrounded by family.

As if he could sense your anxiety, Clint dipped down and brushed his lips against yours. You sucked in a breath before surging forward and kissin him. Clint sighed into the kiss before you slanted your mouth over his, deepening it, your tongues tangling together. When neither of you could breathe properly, you parted, your foreheads resting together, your hand on the back of his neck, one of his on the small of your back, flexing as if he were trying to control himself.

“I love you, Clint,” you murmured, your heart hammering in your chest.

Clint’s smile lit up his face. “Yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile yourself. “I’m tired of pretending, of hiding the way I feel about you. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Me either,” he quickly agreed before kissing you breathless over and over again.

SIX

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Summary: It’s time for your family’s annual vacation and, just like every previous year, you are single. Unwilling to put up with the snide remarks and being the butt of everyone’s jokes, you make a drastic decision and ask your very attractive friend, Clint, to be your boyfriend for a week.
Word Count: 2,742
Warnings for the series: Angst, language, fluff, maybe some smut, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: There simply aren’t enough Clint Barton fics out there. Also, I’m a sucker for a good trope. GIF credit [X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

It was right after breakfast that your dad announced, “Come on, boys. Let’s get ready for a hike.”

Wade was grinning like a fool and yanking Sam out of his chair. Wanda’s husband and Pietro were already inside the house. Along with his unnatural like speed, the head full of silver-grey hair Pietro had since the day he was born, earned him the moniker Quicksilver.

Clint hadn’t moved, just sat there, your hand in his, looking at you from the corner of his eye. He loved hiking and nature, being in the middle of nowhere with zero technological distractions, so you knew damn well he was excited about going.

“Just… just the guys?” you asked hesitantly.

Your dad stood next to your mom and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’ll give everyone a chance to catch up. Besides, I want to get to know Clint a little better,” he chuckled.

He meant well, he really did, but you would be lying if you said you were not looking forward to spending time with your mother without Clint there to run interference.

Clint pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “It’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he assured you.

“What if something happens?” You thought your question had been a whisper, but your mom started laughing.

“They’re not going to kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, her tone cool.

God, she had a way with making you feel like you were the smallest and dumbest human alive.

“I know that, mom,” you huffed in annoyance.

Clint stood, pulling you with him, and made it look like he was kissing your cheek. “If there’s any signal, I’ll have my phone on, okay?”

With your parents watching, and wanting to really sell the relationship, you gave into the urge to wrap your arms around his neck and pushed yourself into the hug.

“Thank you,” you sighed. You felt him relax as his arms wrapped around you.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies erupted in your stomach when he asked, “No tongue?”

You thought for sure he could hear the way your heart was pounding or how the breath caught in your throat. You wanted to scream at him, demand that he kiss you passionately. On the other hand, you were scared. Clint was your best friend, and the topic of a romantic relationship had never been broached, until recently, that is. Even then, it wasn’t real.

So, was he asking because that was how he wanted to kiss you, or simply to convince your family that he was ‘in love’ with you?

Before you could give it too much thought, you gave him an answer. “Let’s find out.”

You angled your head so that your lips brushed his, your breath mingling together for a split second before he pressed his lips to yours. His kisses were firm and sweet, but It didn’t take long for Clint to slant his mouth over yours, his tongue hot and damp on your bottom lip. You hadn’t expected to moan at the sensation, and he must not have either, because his hand squeezed the back of your neck for a fraction of a second. At the second swipe of his tongue, you opened up to him, goosebumps flaring to life on your skin when your tongues met.

The kiss was better than anything you had imagined it would be, and the sounds he made were enough to make you want to do all kinds of things. But, you were quickly reminded there were other people around.

“Save it for when we get back, Jesus,” Wade cried out, effectively killing the mood.

Your fingers were pressed to your kiss-swollen lips and you looked up at Clint, hoping you could find a trace of something in his eyes, but you found nothing. Not because his eyes were void of emotion, but because he wasn’t even looking at you.

“Come on,” Sam urged. “Before the natives get restless.”

Clint gave a gruff answer of affirmation, saying, “I’m comin’,” and accepting the small backpack he was handed.

Tears flooded your eyes as Clint turned away, yanking his hand back as you tried to reach for it. There was no time to focus on it, to try and make sense of it all, the emotions swirling inside of you, because Wanda was at your side.

“Let’s go, sister,” she cooed, her arm hooking in yours. “I just got a new puzzle.”

Despite the stunning scenery and pleasurable company, Clint kept checking his phone.

No missed calls. No text messages. Nothing.

Was he worried about the borderline-toxic relationship Y/N had with her mother? Hell yes, but that wasn’t what was making his stomach twist and churn. It was how he brushed off Y/N after that kiss. That kiss… goddamn, it was incredible.

Clint had thought about keeping the kiss simple, just a firm press of lips, but as soon as the kiss started, he couldn’t hold back any longer. It took everything he had not to pick her up and carry her to their shared room. If the kiss had gone on any longer, if Wade hadn’t said something, he had no doubt he would have done just that.

They had just shared an intimate moment, a kiss that would no doubt change the course of their relationship. So, why hadn’t he looked at her, why hadn’t he said anything to her? Because he didn’t trust himself, was the simple answer. If he looked at her, let Y/N see how he really felt about her, he risked pushing her away in a way he wasn’t sure he could recover from.

When he’d agreed to this, pretending to be Y/N’s boyfriend, he had promised himself that he wouldn’t cross a line. Because once that line was crossed, there would be no turning back. Their friendship would be ruined and, if she didn’t feel the same way about him that he felt about her, then there was no chance of moving forward into something new.

Then he remembered the way she moaned. If she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss, if she didn’t – possibly – feel the same way, she wouldn’t have reacted the way she did, right? Or was she just swept up in the moment, reacting that way because her parents were there?

“Watch it,” Wade ground out, grabbing Clint’s elbow and yanking him back on the walking trail.

Clint’s heart raced in his chest when he noticed that if Wade hadn’t grabbed him, Clint would be at the bottom of a deep ravine.

“Thanks, Wade,” he rasped, his breath catching in his throat.

“Might want to put that away,” Wade instructed. “Wouldn’t want to the old man to catch you. He’s a real stickler for ‘enjoying the moment.’”

Despite the way his hand itched to hold the phone, to send Y/N a text, he turned it over and slid it into his back pocket. He adjusted the straps of the backpack on his shoulders and fell into step besides Wade. Sam and Pietro were walking in front of them, following their dad, who was pointing out a bird.

“You break her heart, I’ll break your fucking face,” Wade threatened, his voice calm, as if he went around hurling threats on the daily.

“I uh, I’m sorry?” Clint huffed at the man next to him.

Wade was wearing a smile as he turned his head. “Oh, you heard me,” he all-out giggled, making Clint think he was losing his mind. “Y/N is special.”

“She’s very special,” Clint agreed. “Look, Wade, I get what you’re doing. I’d do the exact same thing if I were in your shoes. But, I promise you, I will not hurt Y/N.”

Y/N’s brother squinted his eyes as he mulled over Clint’s vow. “Okay, cool. Want to taste my salty nuts?” he asked, an open sandwich baggie in his hand.

A surprised laugh burst out of Clint, and it echoed around them. “Sure, Wade. I’d love to.”

After completing the one-thousand-five-hundred-piece puzzle, which took three hours, you stood and stretched your back, giving a pained grunt as the muscles protested from not being used for so long. Doing the puzzle with your sister and Pietro’s wife had helped take your mind off of kissing Clint, but now that you were done, your brain raced back to that moment in time. At least, it tried to.

Wanda and her sister-in-law were putting away the pieces when Steph managed to snag your attention by launching one of the various couch pillows at your face.

“Hey,” you scoffed, chucking it back a moment later.

Steph let out a melodic laugh that made you smile. “Hey, yourself. C’mere for a minute.”

You made your way around the couch and sat next to your friend in the oversized chair, curling into her side and settling your hand on her stomach. You couldn’t help but smile when the baby started somersaulting under your palm.

“Sam told me about the baby,” you sighed gently. “And the surgery, and that he’s tossing around the idea of retiring.”

Steph’s hand was atop yours, pushing your fingers into her soft belly. “If there was anyone in this family that he would tell, I knew it would be you.” There was no resentment or anger in her voice, just a very worried and tired mother.

“How are you doing?”

She had a thin smile pulling at her lips. “I’m fine.”

“Stephanie,” you groaned. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

The mother-to-be sniffled before saying, “I know, and I love you for it.”

You didn’t try and force a conversation, one way or the other. The two of you just sat there, enjoying each other’s company for several long minutes.

“I’m scared, Y/N,” your friend admitted. “What if… what if something goes wrong, during the uh, during the surgery?”

Shifting in your seat, you wrapped her in your arms. “It won’t.”

“I’m fully prepared to be the mother of a child with special needs,” she insisted. “I can handle it, I swear. But… but if something happens, and… and the baby doesn’t ma-”

“Nothing is going to happen to this baby,” you said into her hair. “Not a goddamn thing.”

Steph gave you a squeeze before wiping away her tears with the back of her hands. “Don’t want mom to panic.”

“Wait, does she not know about the spina bifida?” you wondered under your breath.

“Not yet,” was Steph’s simple answer. “We’ll tell her after the surgery. Besides, you know how she is. She’d fly out, try and help around the house, and hover. And I… I can’t deal with that right now.”

You scoffed in mutual commiseration. “You’re telling me.”

When she rolled her eyes and went to argue her point, you shook your head. “Totally different scenario, I get it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she assured you, nudging your shoulder with hers.

“Just think, Y/N,” your mother interjected from behind the chair, her hand falling to Stephanie’s shoulder. “This could be you in a year or two.”

Of fucking course she would say something like that.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, mom. Married and twenty weeks pregnant. How’d you know that’s what I wanted?”

Except that was what you wanted. That was exactly what you wanted.

“Tone,” she warned.

“Can you not do this right now, Kathryn?” Stephanie implored. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Your mom just rolled her eyes. “Can’t a mother want to see her children happy and in love?”

You couldn’t contain your frustration any longer.  “Why does being happy go hand-in-hand with being in love with you?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now, Y/N,” she huffed.

“Thank goodness for that,” you mumbled and slouched further in the chair.

Kathryn did something you’d never see her do, she rolled her eyes. Something she would smack you in the back of the head when you were growing up. “Aren’t you a little… old to be acting like a petulant child?”

“Enough,” Stephanie ground out, shooting daggers at her mother-in-law. “Kathryn, will you please check on the children?”

With her nostrils flaring, your mom clamped her mouth shut and spun on her heel, leaving the two of you alone. When you started sniffling, the emotion in your chest becoming too much to contain, Stephanie wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“Why don’t you go lie down, rest for a bit,” your friend suggested. “You’re already exhausted, butting heads with your mom isn’t going to help.”

While arguing with your mom was second nature to you, you knew better than to second guess anything Stephanie had to say. You nodded your agreement and pushed off the chair with a heavy sigh, careful not to jostle her too much. She gave your hand a squeeze before it slipped free, and you were trudging up the stairs a moment later.

The door hadn’t even latched behind you when the tears started falling. Before you knew it, you were on the bed, curled in on yourself, crying hard enough that your chest hurt. Years of keeping everything bottled inside, to the best of your abilities, but being there, with Clint, the dam inside of you shattered to a million pieces.

You had snapped at your mother – along with Wade – many times over the years, gone to bed angry and upset, but you had always managed to keep it all bottled inside. But today, you blamed yourself for cracking. Asking Clint to come along, pretend to be your boyfriend, claiming you were madly in love with one another; it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You weren’t sure how much more you could handle.

Knowing you needed to calm down, you forced yourself off the bed and extracted the bottle of xanax from your bag. One pill, just as your doctor had prescribed. You washed it down with a glass of water from the attached bathroom, and then got into the shower, where you cried some more.

You absolutely hated being the butt of jokes, of hearing your mother compare the full-of-love lives of your siblings to your – apparently – lacking existence. It wasn’t that you didn’t want that life. You wanted to be married, have kids, bitch about how terrible camping was now that kids were involved, take them trick-or-treating; all of those things, and more.

When the water ran tepid, you emerged and wrapped yourself in the fluffiest towel known to mankind. You were dried off, wearing an oversized shirt, and back in bed a handful of minutes later. You had just gotten comfortable when the door opened.

“Go away,” you pleaded with a cracking voice.

The door clicked shut and there were heavy steps crossing the room, fading away into the bathroom. You laid there as the shower switched on, filling the room with white noise that made your eyelids heavy. You must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, the bed dipped.

Clint appeared in your field of vision. “I should have stayed.”

You thought you had run out of tears. Clearly you were wrong. “How did… what gave it away?”

“Steph told me what happened,” he told you, sliding closer, holding you as you cried.

“She’s just so goddamn infuriating,” you choked out.

Clint pressed a kiss to your damp hair. “What do you need me to do? I mean, I can kill her,” he offered with a chuckle.

Now that made you laugh. “I appreciate the offer.”

You toyed with frayed stitching on the arm of his shirt, suddenly nervous at the close proximity. You wanted to ask him about the kiss, confront him about the way he brushed you off afterwards, tell him how you felt, only you didn’t get the chance.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he murmured. “About earlier. I shouldn’t have just… I’m sorry.”

One of your shoulders twiched in a half-hearted shrug. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Clint insisted, pushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead. “I was just so -”

“Confused?” you offered, raising your eyes to his.

He gave you a small smile. “Yeah, that’s the word.”

When Clint sucked in a shuddering breath, you shook your head. “Can we just lie here, please?” You wanted to talk about it, the kiss, but you were just so tired.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his dark eyes flitting around your face. “We can do that.”

FIVE

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Summary: It’s time for your family’s annual vacation and, just like every previous year, you are single. Unwilling to put up with the snide remarks and being the butt of everyone’s jokes, you make a drastic decision and ask your very attractive friend, Clint, to be your boyfriend for a week.
Word Count: 2,046
Warnings for the series: Angst, language, fluff, maybe some smut, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: There simply aren’t enough Clint Barton fics out there. Also, I’m a sucker for a good trope. GIF credit [X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Not that you weren’t exhausted. Hell, you had started nodding off while sitting around a small fire with your siblings, the children having been put to bed an hour before, your head on Clint’s shoulder, the cooler air making you shiver. The body heat emanating from Clint was like a beacon, causing you to seek it out, push yourself closer to him.

While you trudged up to your room, Wade helped Clint with the bags, bidding your ‘boyfriend’ goodnight with a playful, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

From that moment on, you were wide awake, because in your room, there was a queen sized bed. One. One bed, and two adults. One bed, two adults, and one almost willing participant. You hadn’t expected the slight crush you had on Clint to suddenly spiral out of control, but it was happening, and it wasn’t going to stop.

You definitely hadn’t thought this whole thing through.

“Hey,” Clint said, his voice cutting through the anxiety swarming in your head. “The couch pulls out to a bed.”

Relief flooded through you. “I completely forgot about that.”

Clint was facing you. “Y/N, I was planning to sleep on the floor.”

“No, I know,” you laughed a bit forcefully. “I remember that conversation.”

He crossed the room, his brows furrowing as he looked down at you. “What is it?”

I’m falling for you.

With a tight-lipped smile, you shook your head. “Just tired.”

“No, I’m not buying it,” Clint insisted, his dark eyes searching yours, as if the truth was lying there, waiting for someone to see it.

“It’s been a long day for me, Clint. I’m sorry that I’m not acting the way you want me to,” you snapped. Without giving him a chance to say anything, you turned away and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

There were tears in your eyes and it pissed you off. You hated the way you had snapped at him, especially after all he had done for you, after all he was going to do for you. You wanted to go out there and apologize to him, but how were you supposed to tell him you were half in love with him and you desperately wanted this whole charade to be real? With an resigned huff, you clambered into the shower.

An hour had passed by the time you emerged from the bathroom. You had forgotten to grab your pajamas when you stormed away from your best friend, so you were currently wrapped in a large towel. Half-expecting to hear the riot act from Clint, you were surprised to hear soft snores coming from the couch. That didn’t stop you from dashing back into the bathroom to change once your clothing was retrieved.

That had been three hours ago. It didn’t matter how much you tossed and turned, punched the pillow and rearranged the blankets; you weren’t going to fall asleep any time soon. And if you kept it up with all the noise you were undoubtedly making, Clint would no longer be unconscious, and you couldn’t deal with that. As quietly as you could, you rummaged around in the closet and pulled out a robe, slipping into it as you crossed the room. Once the door was closed, you let out the breath you were holding, and crept down the long hallway.

It wasn’t until you opened the fridge, looking for the milk, that you realized you weren’t alone.

“Can’t sleep either?”

You whirled around with a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming. “Shit, Sam,” you rasped. “Don’t do that.”

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes. “You always were too easy to scare.”

“Am not,” you grumbled, the fridge closing behind you.

“You looking for that?” he asked, pointing to the gallon of milk on the counter.

“Mom’s cure for just about everything,” you chuckled as you poured some milk into a mug and popped it into the microwave.

Sam gave a small smile, one that reminded you of when you were kids. The pair of you would be seated at the table, wrapped in a blanket, sipping warm milk. Sometimes the others would wake up and want to join, but mostly it was the you and Sam.

After the microwave dinged, you removed the cup, closed the door, and slid onto a stool next to your brother, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“What can’t you stop thinking about?” you inquired.

Sam let out a sigh and scraped a hand over his face. “We just found out that the baby has spina bifida. Steph goes in for surgery in two weeks.”

“Oh, God,” you breathed. You wrapped your arm around your brother’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Are you okay? Is Steph okay?”

“You know Steph,” Sam said in a rush of air.

You gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I know.”

“She won’t tell anyone, but I know she’s worried sick,” he murmured tiredly.

Your heart clenched in empathy as you gave him a big hug. “Is it serious, the surgery?”

“It can be,” Sam answered, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “They’ll do a c-section and remove her uterus. After a small incision is made, they’ll expose the baby’s back, repair or remove the MMC, and put everything back the way it was.”

There were tears in your eyes just thinking about it. You couldn’t imagine being the one to go through it, let alone being the significant other of that person.

Next to Wade, Sam was one of the strongest people you knew. He had been deployed on three separate occasions, each one lasting longer than eighteen months, and every time he came back, he was a little bit different. Not in any major way; he wasn’t hurt, nothing like that. But, he had seen a lot, he had lost a lot, and it affected him more than he’d like people to know.

Then there was Steph. The two of you had been friends during middle and high school, enjoyed singing in the choir together, making up your own cheers to the ones shouted by the cheerleaders, the popular girls in school that everyone loved. No, you weren’t outsiders, but you weren’t popular either. You and Steph paved your own way through the school years, emerging with your dignity and the respect of others. The only thing you didn’t have that Steph did, was a fiance.

Sam proposed on the last day of school. Six weeks later, they were married. Two weeks after that, Sam was off to basic training with a bride in tow. God, you really should have worked harder at keeping in touch with her.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” you wanted to know.

After drinking the rest of the milk, Sam ground his teeth. “Fury wants me to help train a group of men,” he started explaining. “They’re going to be seeing some heavy shit.”

Along with being in the Army, Sam had gotten his doctorate in psychology. So, if he wasn’t seeing any action on the battlefield, he was helping soldiers – and their family members – through difficult times. You had began to wonder if your brother had a heart of gold.

You were almost afraid to ask, “When do they want you to go?”

“Fury wants me at the Pentagon in three weeks.”

“Holy shit,” you gasped. “That’s right after the surgery.”

Sam scoffed loudly. “You’re telling me.”

You turned in your seat and watched him as you asked your next question. “How long does Fury want you there?”

He clenched his jaw tight enough that you heard his molars creak. “Two years.”

“I… I’m sorry, what now?” you stammered. “You… that… that’s longer than any one of your deployments.”

“I’ll miss everything,” Sam lamented with tears in his eyes. “Steph’s recovery from surgery, Austin’s first day of kindergarten, the birth, helping out… helping out after. I just… I’ve missed so much already, Y/N.”

You pulled him into your arms and hugged him tight, letting out a heavy breath as his arms wrapped around you.

“What happens if you say no?” you wondered aloud, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing,” he answered a moment later, sniffling loudly. He pulled back and gave you a small smile, squeezing your hand in thanks. “They’ll move on to the next schmuck. Besides…”

You watched every microexpression that crossed his face when his voice trailed off. “Besides, what, Sam?”

“I’m thinking of retiring from the army, get a job close to mom and dad,” he admitted. “And you, of course.”

“Of course,” you chuckled awkwardly.

“Also, it would give me an excuse to get to know this guy you’re so keen on a bit better,” Sam teased, all sadness washing away in the blink of an eye.

Oh, that.

You swallowed around the large knot in your throat and forced a smile. “Yeah, it would.”

If you knew anything at that moment, it was that Sam was going to push you on the matter. So, you drank the milk and forced a yawn.

“Look at that,” you chuckled. “It worked. See you in a couple hours.”

“Y/N, wait,” Sam called after you, his voice a harsh whisper.

You didn’t stop, not until you were inside the bedroom, your back against it, and your fingers throwing the lock.

“You alright?” Clint asked. You barely bit back the yelp of surprise at the sight of him. He was sitting on the edge of your bed and forearms resting on his thighs.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked nervously, wrapping the robe around yourself.

One of his shoulders bobbed up. “You tell me. I’m here, doing you a huge favor, and you bit my head off about it.” Even in the dark, you could see the fire in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, Clint,” you sighed heavily. “I really am. I didn’t…” the breath caught in your throat and you shook your head in an effort to keep yourself from getting emotional again.

If Sam would have asked what was bothering you, instead of the other way around, you have no doubt you would have told him everything; that you weren’t really dating Clint, you were using your best friend to get the rest of the family off of your back. You felt extremely guilty for the lie, but why couldn’t you have just one week where your dating status wasn’t in the conversation rotation?

“I’m sorry,” you repeated yourself, your voice tremulous and weak.

Clint pushed off the bed and pulled you into his arms. “This isn’t easy for you, I get that,” he mused, dropping a kiss to your crown. “But, if you want your family to believe that we are dating and falling in love, there can’t be any of what happened tonight.”

The man made sense. For everyone to buy what the two of you were selling, there needed to be no outbursts, no moments of ‘weakness’ that would clue anyone into the secret.

“I just feel bad,” you sniffled. “I feel like I’m using you, and that it’s going to drive us apart.”

It’s too late. I am falling in love with you, Clint.

One of his hands was on the side of your face. “If there was any chance that I thought this would drive us apart, I wouldn’t have agreed to anything.”

There were tears in your eyes as you nodded your head, swallowing the confession that dangled precariously on the tip of your tongue.

“That’s my girl,” Clint murmured, his lips pressing to your forehead. “Now, what do you say we get some sleep before the chaos?”

Your brain was working overtime. Will you sleep in my bed?

“That’s probably a good idea,” was what you said instead, pressing a hurried kiss to his cheek.

Taking off your robe and setting it on the end of your bed, you couldn’t help but watch Clint climb into his own. He was wearing a pair of dark boxer briefs and a snug grey cotton shirt, and the way it stretched over his shoulders made your fingers itch. You all but jumped into bed, making sure to face away from him, and pretended to go to sleep.

FOUR

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Summary: It’s time for your family’s annual vacation and, just like every previous year, you are single. Unwilling to put up with the snide remarks and being the butt of everyone’s jokes, you make a drastic decision and ask your very attractive friend, Clint, to be your boyfriend for a week.
Word Count: 1,793
Warnings for the series: Angst, language, fluff, maybe some smut, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: There simply aren’t enough Clint Barton fics out there. Also, I’m a sucker for a good trope. 

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

With less than an hour to the cabin, Clint asked a question. “What are the rules with this?”

“Rules?” you questioned, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“We’ve been ‘dating’ for…”

“Three months,” you finished for him.

He shifted in his seat, turning his body towards you. “We’ve been ‘dating’ for three months,” he confirmed. “Is there going to be kissing, hand holding, ass grabbing, cute nicknames? I just want to know what I’m getting into.”

“What you’re getting into?” you scoffed, the anxiety in your chest just grew bigger. “Because I’m so disgusting that you have to prepare yourself, right. Let me save you the hassle.” You flicked on the signal and cranked on the wheel, sending a shrill scream of rubber through the air as you made a tight, and extremely illegal u-turn.

“Pull over, Y/N,” Clint said, his voice calm.

You were grinding your teeth and shaking your head. “Why? It’s obvious you don’t want to do this. Might as well just go home.”

“It didn’t come out the way I meant it,” he haphazardly explained. “Now, please, pull over.” Clint’s hand was heavy and reassuring on your shoulder, and it made you realize that you had completely overreacted.

With tears clouding your vision, you did as Clint requested, shifting the gear into park a minute later. You slumped forward and pressed your forehead against the wheel.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, your eyes screwed shut. “I didn’t mean to -”

“Hey, Y/N/N, no,” Clint said softly, his hand still on your shoulder and squeezing. “You have no reason to apologize.”

You hadn’t realized how much you had been holding back, because once the tears started, you couldn’t stop them. Clint unfastened his seatbelt, quickly followed by yours, and pulled you into him. You wrapped your arms around him and awkwardly cried into his neck.

Once your tears had slowed and your breath wasn’t hitching in your throat, Clint went on to explain what he meant.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay? I get that this isn’t going to be easy for you, but Y/N, you’re my best friend, and I want to help you.” God, he sounded so fucking sincere, it made your heart skip a beat.

“Well, you should know that my family isn’t shy when it comes to affection,” you chuckled thickly.

“So,” he hummed, one hand on your face, his thumb sweeping over your tear-dampened skin. “The more the better.”

Up until that point, you hadn’t realized how close the two of you were. You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, and you noticed several more lines around his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, they weren’t just green, there were flecks of blue in them, swirling around the pupil. Funny how you hadn’t noticed that before.

A semi sped past and shook the car. You rolled your eyes and gave a tight-lipped smile. “I guess we should get going.”

Forty minutes later, you were pulling up the drive, and Clint was taking off his sunglasses and leaning forward in his seat.

“I thought we were staying at a cabin.”

“Well, that’s what we call it,” was your giggling response.

He gave you a quick scowl before turning his attention back to the estate. “That’s not a fucking cabin,” he scoffed. “That’s a fucking mansion.”

“Just wait until see the hiking trails.” You knew that would get his attention.

Clint grinned at you and clapped his hand on your thigh. “This is going to be awesome.”

Your mother was coming out of the house the moment you pulled the keys from the ignition. “Maybe for you,” you muttered under your breath. “Whatever happens next, I’m sorry.”

Clint gave your thigh a squeeze. “Whatever happens next, I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he vowed.

As soon as you opened your door and stepped out, your mom was heading over, her arms open, and a wide smile on her face. You returned the embrace, even allowed your eyes to drift closed for a moment. And then, the moment was over, and you snapped back to reality.

“We were worried you weren’t going to make it,” she sighed, reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear. “Are you alright, love? You look like you’ve been crying.”

You wrinkled your nose as you pulled away from her. “I’m fine, mom, and I’m sorry we worried you.”

Clint was at your side, an arm around your waist, wearing one of his best smiles. “Mrs. Cargill,” he greeted her, taking her hand in his and brushing a kiss to her knuckles. “We meet at last.”

Your mother was honest-to-God blushing at the attention being showered upon her. “It’s Cargill-MacMillan, dear,” she giggled. “But please, call me Kathryn.”

There was something that flashed across Clint’s features when your mother corrected him, but it was gone before you could address it. Though, you had a feeling it would definitely be addressed later.

“Thank you for having me, Kathryn. I have to say, this is not what I expected. Y/N said we were staying at a cabin, and a cabin, this is not,” Clint chuckled, his gaze turning toward the house.

“Well, you know Y/N. She tends to downplay certain things.”

You didn’t miss the way her voice dipped in disappointment, but you did your best to brush it off by changing the subject. “Is everyone else inside?”

“The kids are playing in the back,” was her answer.

You grabbed Clint’s hand and started heading up the front steps.

“What about your bags?” she called after you.

“We’ll get ‘em later, mom!”

If you thought Clint was surprised earlier, you were quickly proven wrong. He secured his sunglasses to the front of his shirt and looked at everything with wide eyes.

“This place is huge,” he praised, slowing down so his brain could register everything he was seeing.

“And yet, there isn’t a spot where you can disappear.” The words were out before you could stop them.

Clint whirled around to face you. “Say the word, and we’re gone.”

The word he was referring to was peaches. It was a safe word, of sorts, one that was super easy to remember; even in a moment of sheer and unavoidable panic. It had actually been Clint’s idea. After explaining to him more about your family and how it made you feel, he thought of using a safe word. He promised that no matter the time and situation, if you wanted to leave, all you had to do was say the magic word.

“Thank you,” you sniffled, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m okay, though. I’m honestly excited to see everyone.”

You weren’t lying. Well, mostly. While seeing your mother wasn’t high on your list of things to do, seeing your siblings was. You were the only child that had stayed close to home. Wanda and Pietro moved out to Seattle and opened up a coffee shop. Sam, after enlisting in the Army, had been stationed down in Texas. Wade and Vanessa – high school sweethearts – settled down in Colorado where Vanessa became a nurse and Wade went into the IT field. So, seeing them any other time outside of the annual vacation wasn’t much of an option.

Before you could blink, the back door was opening, and Clint was kissing you. Nothing fancy, just his lips pressed to yours, and his hand on the back of your neck. You were shocked for approximately half a second, and then you heard your brother’s voice.

“Slather me in oil and call me slick, he does exist,” Wade called out, humor thick on his tongue.

You giggled as you stepped away from Clint. “Get your ass over here.”

Wade ran over and picked you up, squeezing you tight. “Good to see you, sis.”

“You, too,” you grunted as he set you on your feet, a heavy hand clapping your back.

Being around Wade always made you feel better, made you smile wider, made you feel like you were a kid again, pulling pranks on your parents, staying up all night, sneaking out of the house; the list was endless.

Clint held out his hand for Wade. “Nice to finally meet you. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“Don’t believe a word she says,” Wade chuckled, taking hold of Clint’s hand.

You rolled your eyes and smacked your brother in the chest. “Don’t listen to a word he says. He’s the troublemaker, not me.”

Wade had the nerve to look surprised. “What the fuck did I ever do to you?”

You scoffed loudly. “Please! Like you don’t remember.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re going on about.” He was going red in the face as he barely contained his laughter.

“Summer, I was fifteen -”

Suddenly, everyone was pouring into the house, shouts of excitement at seeing everyone after a year apart, apologies for not keeping in touch, exclamations of how much the kids have grown, and introductions all around. In no time at all, you and Clint were holding hands and being ushered outside where a million and one questions were asked.

“Sorry for springing the kiss on ya like that,” he whispered, his lips close to your ear. “I panicked when the door opened.”

You were standing next to him, his arm draped over your shoulder, your arm looped around his waist, a thumb hooked through a belt loop. “It was good thinking, Clint.”

“Yeah? Because I’m thinking it’s going to have to happen again.”

“Why do you think that?” was your hoarse question.

Clint chuckled low in his throat, and you had to work at suppressing the shudder of pleasure that zipped down your spine. “Because, we’re being watched.”

Sure enough, almost every member of your family was staring at the two of you, expectations of a kiss glimmering in their eyes.

“Okay, but no tongue,” was your whispered stipulation.

Clint winked, his way of agreeing to your term, before dipping down and kissing you. Much to your surprise, you didn’t have to force yourself to relax into the kiss, or mold your body to his, or rest your hand on the side of his neck. You enjoyed the way he was kissing you, and you had no doubt you could get used to it real fast.

Just when you felt the urge to push your tongue into his mouth, Wade gave a bellowing whoop.

“Who’s up for a swim?” He was already ripping off his shirt and running for the pool.

With a wink, Clint brushed his nose against yours and followed after Wade, kicking off his shoes before diving into the deep end.

Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea.

THREE

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