Chapter Text
(Be cool Jemma, be cool, it’s only Jane Foster and Bruce Banner, they’re people too; be cool, don’t freak out, don’t freak—Is that Clint?)
The man in question just stepped out of the elevator with Skye, Coulson and a woman Jemma vaguely recognized as the Black Widow. His eyes scanned over the room quickly before zeroing in on Jemma (shoot, don’t look! Don’t look!). Her head whipped around and she forced a small laugh at something Bruce had said that Jane( she was on a first name basis with Jane Foster, how was this her life?) was amused by. She felt Clint’s eyes on her back but forced herself not to look at him (she was embarrassing herself enough already, she didn’t need to exasperate the situation by looking longingly at Clint Barton). (But it had been nearly seven years…maybe just a little peek? What could it hurt?)
Her head moved slowly, trying to appear nonchalant (and pointedly ignoring a voice inside her head that sounded a lot like Skye reminding her that she was incapable of nonchalance). She scanned the room passively, humming and commenting in the conversation whenever it was called for until she finally located Clint again. He was now standing in the sitting area looking nervous and a little upset as he chatted with the Black Widow (was she sitting on the Falcon’s lap?), Skye, Steve (those two were absolutely adoarable together), Coulson, the Winter Soldier (what she wouldn’t give to have a look at his arm) and Darcy (who was both off-putting with her bluntness and hilarious, and it was quite obvious that even with Fury standing on the other side of the room, she was the one in charge).
“Jemma?” Bruce’s concerned voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her attention back to him.
“Sorry,” she apologized with a nervous laugh as she pulled her eyes away from Clint, worried she’d actually offended him (offending the Hulk was not high on her list of things she wanted to do before she died) only to find him watching her with an amused glint in his eye.
Bruce shared a smile with Jane before speaking to Jemma again, “You should go talk to him, Clint could always use a few more friends to keep him grounded,” he suggested.
Jemma squeaked, it was unintentional but couldn’t be helped, “Talk to him?” she repeated, (because that would go over well, how would she even start that conversation, oh, hey, superhero crush of mine, I just thought I’d let you know that--)
“He’s a nice man, he wouldn’t turn you away,” Jane added, interrupting Jemma’s thoughts, “Just don’t let him fool you, he’s actually pretty smart on top of being an attractive male specimen,” Jane sent a look over at Clint, eyeing him appreciatively, “Brains and biceps,” she sighed exaggeratedly.
Forcing back another embarrassed squeak, Jemma felt her face turn red as Bruce chuckled at her reactions, “I don’t—I’m not sure what you think—“
“And it seems to me,” Bruce murmured thoughtfully, thankfully putting an end to her stuttering, “that he’s been staring at you since he stepped out of that elevator,” his warm friendly eyes trailed back to Jemma, “And I can’t say as though I blame him, you do look very lovely tonight.”
Jemma glanced down at the purple lattice strap back dress Skye had insisted she wear, feeling self-conscious and wishing the sleeves were just a few inches longer so she could pull them over her hands, “Thank you,” she accepted the compliment.
“Purple happens to be Clint’s favorite color too,” Jane commented, “Probably another reason why he can’t take his eyes off of you.”
Feeling her blush darken Jemma shook her head, “There’s probably something on my face,” she denied. But then her eyes widened, “You would tell me if there was something on my face wouldn’t you?” her hand lifted to wipe at her cheeks but Bruce caught her arm halfway there.
“There’s nothing on your face Jemma,” he reassured her with an amused grin, “Relax.”
“Oh look,” Jane murmured, her voice intrigued and pleased, “it looks like Darcy’s bringing him over here for an introduction.”
Jemma felt her eyes widen and she squeaked again, looking frantically around for an exit or an escape. Finding none she tried to think of an excuse to leave the area but one look at her companions and their knowing expressions told her nothing she came up with (is that a squirrel? Oh, look, a…plant… if you’ll excuse me, I think my mother is trying to--no, definitely none of those) would be enough to help her make an escape. Closing her eyes in resignation (oh, this was happening now wasn’t it?) she felt her hands begin to shake.
It had been seven years, seven years was…well it was a long time.
“Hey guys,” Darcy’s increasingly familiar voice spoke from just behind her, “If I could interrupt your Science!discussion,” (that was something rather odd she’d noticed everyone in the Tower did when talking about Jane, Bruce and Tony and their scientific research, they made it sound as if the word were to be capitalized and set apart from the rest of the conversation for some reason), “I happen to have need of both you and Bruce over in the…that,” Darcy gestured somewhere vaguely, “area,” she latched onto Jane’s arm and tugged.
Jane and Bruce shared another amused smirk before saying their goodbyes to Jemma until with one last wink, they were gone. Jemma frowned after them, shifting in place (why had she agreed to let Skye put her in such a revealing dress on top of these stupid heels again?)before nervously turning to glance at Clint (don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak out!).
He was watching her with an unreadable expression on his face (be cool, be cool, be cool, you are calm and collected; he doesn’t need to know you are freaking out on the inside now does he?), finally she decided to make the first move (it had been seven years of waiting for this moment and suddenly she couldn’t take the anticipation anymore), “Hi,” she sent him a shaky smile, “I’m Jemma,” her hand rose to reach for his.
He stared at it, and then at her for a moment longer before lifting his hand to envelope hers (his hands were huge! And callused, and very, very warm). He seemed to make a decision as his hand squeezed hers, sending sparks racing through her veins, “I’m Clint,” he started, (here we go) “Your soulmate. Which, I know, sounds weird for me to say, but I’ve been waiting seven long years to say it. I don’t know if you remember, but we met about seven years ago. I was in the lab visiting with your friend about some trick arrows and you wandered in and said my words. You left before I could respond and disappeared before I even really managed to pull my thoughts together,” he took a deep breath, his eyes unwavering from hers, staring at her with an intensity that would be unnerving if it didn’t sent warmth racing through her, “I didn’t say anything after that because I was terrified that I might hurt you on accident or you might run if I ever actually told you who I was an what it was I did for SHIELD. But now, here you are at this party looking so beautiful and I just couldn’t stay away anymore,” his eyes widened, “Crap,” he hissed, “and that’s all written on your body somewhere isn’t it? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you such a long--“
“I know,” she interrupted him, finally putting a stop to the long winded paragraph she had scrawled across her lower back in bold spiky print.
Clint stilled, his eyes widening a little, “You…what?”
“I know,” Jemma repeated, still very much aware that he hadn’t let go of her hand yet, “I know you’re my soulmate.”
He frowned and shifted his weight, seemingly unaware of that same fact, “How can you know that?” his tone was disbelieving.
She lifted an eyebrow at him, “Everything you just said was written on my back,” she reminded him, “I’ve known my whole life that I would be the first one of us to say my words to you but that I’d have to wait seven years after that before you would say your words to me. You were pretty detailed on the who you are and how we met parts too, so it wasn’t hard to piece together the fact that Clint Barton, a former SHIELD agent who’s preferred weapon is a bow and arrow, is my soulmate.”
Clint stared at her in silence for an awkward moment, “You knew? This whole time,” he couldn’t seem to move past that part.
Smiling a little with the realization that she wasn’t the only one handling this awkwardly she nodded, “Yes,” she answered simply. Reluctantly she pulled her hand from his so she could turn and reveal her back to him, “Your words are written near the small of my back,” she told him, knowing the dress back revealed enough that he would be able to see most of the words.
She waited for him to say something for a minute before she startled as she suddenly felt the heat of his hand brushing over his words, “Sorry,” he murmured, but to her surprise he didn’t pull away, instead his fingers continued to trace over the words for a while, sending chills racing through her skin, “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner,” he apologized softly, his hand pulling away.
Jemma turned with a slight frown on her face, “Why didn’t you?” she asked, genuinely curious, “I’m not upset with you, if you’re worried about that, I’m just curious.”
His eyes lifted from where they’d been staring at her stomach as if he could see her words through her skin to meet her own, “I…haven’t exactly had the best examples of successful soulbonds in my life,” he sighed, “My father was abusive to the point that he wound up killing my mom when I was little,” he shifted a little, looking uncomfortable, “And my brother abandoned his soulmate in favor of a life of crime,” his stare dropped to the floor for a second before lifting to look at her again, “I didn’t want to be like that with you.”
Everything in her was screaming at her to reach out and touch him somehow, so after a lengthy internal debate, she did. Taking a step closer to him she took his hand and held it between both of hers, “You won’t be,” she reassured him, her heart aching for him, “You hold the other half of my soul,” she shrugged, “I don’t think you’d ever intentionally hurt me.”
He shook his head immediately, “Not intentionally, no,” he agreed, turning his hand enough in hers to offer hers a tight squeeze, “But I didn’t want to risk turning out to be just like them,” he used his hand in hers to pull himself closer to her, “You deserve better than that.”
Unable to hold his intense gaze for much longer, Jemma dropped her eyes to study his hand in hers (it was like they were made for this, her hand fit almost too perfectly in his…oh, wait, they were made for this, soulmates and all), “So what changed?” she murmured, her voice quiet, not sure she really wanted to know the answer (especially not if it turned out to be nothing, that this feeling of safety wouldn’t last because he had no intention of sticking around).
“Turns out I have more than a few friends who believe in my ability to be better than my family,” he replied, his voice soft enough that it brought her eyes up to meet his curiously, “And every single one of them wants to keep you just as safe as I need you to be. And,” he gave her a small smile, “They all reminded me that you deserved the opportunity to decide for yourself if you wanted to take that risk or not.”
Heart in her throat, Jemma nervously glanced around the room unseeingly before looking back at Clint, “And if I want to?” she asked quietly, uncertain, not of her feelings but of his.
A slow smile spread across his face, lighting his whole expression and leading to butterflies in her stomach, “Then I’d be more than happy for the opportunity to get to know you,” he murmured, his eyes soft and warm.
“What do you think you’re doing Barton?” Bobbi’s familiar voice snapped with unfamiliar irritation from behind her.
Jemma frowned in confusion as Clint’s expression slid from flirtation, joy and hope into mild irritation and resignation, “Bobbi,” he greeted as Jemma turned to look at Bobbi with a confused frown.
“I asked you a question,” her glare was unwavering and…mean.
“Bobbi?” Jemma questioned her friend, her eyes catching sight of Hunter’s annoyed expression as he closed the last few feet between him and his soulmate, “Something wrong?”
Bobbi’s brown eyes flicked over to her, “You might want to move away from him Jemma,” she warned, “Barton’s have a habit of using the women who get close to them,” her nose twitched with disgust at Clint.
“Bob,” Hunter spoke up, finally reaching Bobbi’s side, “I thought we decided that you interfering would be a bad idea,” he shot Bobbi a look before turning to Clint with a small smile, “Barton,” he acknowledged him.
“Hunter,” Clint returned, his posture as tense as his voice.
Obviously she was missing something, “Can someone please explain what’s happening here?” she requested, “Clint? Bobbi?” neither person managed to pull their glare from the other, though Clint did squeeze her hand reassuringly. Jemma sighed, “Hunter?” she prodded the one of them that seemed willing to say anything.
Hunter rolled his eyes at the two of them, “Barton’s brother married and abandoned Bob’s sister with their three kids,” he told Jemma, “Bobbi hasn’t been very fond of him or his family since.”
“And what do his brother’s mistakes have to do with Clint?” Jemma asked, not liking the way Bobbi was looking at Clint.
“He’s a Barton,” she stated, “He’s just like his brother and his father—“
“Bob,” Hunter tried to interrupt but she just kept going.
“and whoever the unfortunate soul is who has his words on her body must have done something seriously wrong to get stuck with him for the rest of her unfortunate life,” Bobbi stepped forward threateningly, leading Clint to gently tug Jemma behind him protectively, “But until the day he meets the poor girl, he’ll prey on innocent girls like the jerk he is and I won’t let you be one of them Jemma.”
Feeling a surge of protectiveness of her own as she noticed Clint was almost trembling he was so tense Jemma frowned, “I happen to be that fortunate girl,” she snapped, “and I’ll thank you not to speak to him as if you know anything about the kind of man he is,” she ignored Bobbi’s bewildered look and moved to stand in front of Clint, her back to Bobbi, “Want to get some air?” she asked Clint, catching his attention once more.
He studied her for a moment before nodding once and turning to leave, “Jemma,” Bobbi called, her voice strained.
Jemma frowned at Bobbi over her shoulder, “Unless the next words out of your mouth are an apology for how you’ve treated my soulmate I suggest you forget it and leave me alone for the rest of the night.”
Hunter snorted, doing a poor job of masking his amusement, “Told you it was a bad idea to interrupt them,” he muttered with a wink at Jemma, “Barton,” he raised his voice enough to catch Clint’s attention.
Clint stilled and turned to look at him, “What?” he sighed, seeming resigned to whatever Hunter was going to say.
Giving Hunter a warning look, Jemma waited for him to speak which he did with a smirk, “Jemma is family,” he stated clearly, “And while you and I both know you’d rather die than hurt her, you know what I’m capable of. Take care of her, or I will end you,” he winked at Jemma again, “Consider that my shovel talk,” he waved his hand dismissively at them, “Away with the both of you, I have a furious soulmate to tame.”
Bobbi slapped him on the arm with a scowl for that comment but Jemma ignored them, turning and tugging Clint to start walking again. She could still feel faint tremors shaking through his body and felt at a loss as to what she could do to lessen them. She knew he wasn’t scared or even concerned, so reassurances weren’t likely to work; he was simply shaking from holding himself so tense and battle ready so suddenly and that wasn’t something she knew how to combat. So deep in thought was she that she didn’t realize Skye was nearby until she suddenly materialized at Clint’s side, her hand on his arm pulling them both to a stop.
“I’ll handle Bobbi,” she told them, “Don’t let her get to you Barton,” she slugged his arm playfully, “She’s just being overly protective for no reason. Of course, she probably doesn’t know it’s for no reason, but I’m about to go enlighten her,” she gave them both a reassuring smile, “You and I are going to have some serious girl talk later,” she pointed to Jemma with a grin, “now go have fun,” she waved them away, “I’ll deal with the rest.”
Suddenly aware that more than one set of eyes were watching her and Clint, Jemma felt her face go red again with embarrassment, “Thank you,” she mumbled, barely resisting the urge to hide her face in Clint’s shoulder.
Clint repeated her thanks before squeezing her hand and guiding her up a set of stairs to a more secluded area. She took a deep breath once they were free from the crowd, realizing for the first time how tense she’d been herself when all eyes had been on them. Clint gave one last squeeze to her hand before he released her to pace a few steps away.
“Clint?” she called softly a few minutes of pacing later. His head came around to look at her instantly, “Talk to me?”
He studied her for a minute before sighing, “I don’t think I can let you go,” he finally voiced his thoughts.
Jemma’s heart squeezed at the pain in his voice and at the idea he’d voiced, “Why would you…let me go?” she inquired, hoping uselessly that her own hurt wasn’t showing in her voice, “Do you not want to be—“
“I want to Jemma,” he interrupted her firmly, “Believe me, I want to. I want to make you the happiest woman in the world and spend the rest of my life making sure you realize just how much you’re loved,” he stepped closer to her, his expression earnest, “But that’s the thing that scares me the most. That I want all of that, the fairytale ending, happily ever after or whatever, but it can’t possibly be this easy. Not for me,” he seemed somewhat embarrassed at having admitted so much, but determined to share his thoughts with her.
“So you’re trying to create your own obstacles?” she voiced her own thoughts, “Maybe it’s easy now Clint, but that doesn’t mean it always will be. Neither of us have a particularly easy jobs, and that’s just one of the things that could make things complicated for us,” she shook her head at him, “We don’t need to go looking for obstacles when more than a few are likely to pop up all on their own soon enough,” she turned from him to look over the New York skyline, surprised when she realized she could see some of Times Square where they were gearing up to drop the ball from where she stood.
She was so distracted by the sight that she didn’t realize Clint was moving until his hands were cautiously sliding around her waist. She could feel that he was uncertain of how his actions would be received, so she did her best to reassure him by relaxing into him, her back resting against his chest.
Sighing as she felt some of the tension in her body flee at his touch she smiled to herself when she felt him nuzzle his nose into her hair, taking several deep breaths, as if he were trying to commit her smell to memory, “I’ve dreamed about this,” she heard herself say. Clint stilled behind her, but instead of moving away like she feared he would he pulled her tighter to him as if to silently urge her to continue, “I’d imagine little moments like this where it’s just us, being together. I also used to wonder why you would wait seven years before giving me your words, and then I’d wonder when and how you’d finally do it.”
His warm breath huffed against her hair as he gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “I bet it wasn’t all you thought it would be was it?” he sighed.
Jemma smiled a little, “Actually it went a lot better than some of the scenarios in my head,” she admitted, “A lot of those consisted of me playing the role of damsel in distress,” she shrugged a little, making no apologies for the thought, “I’ll probably never be able to claim to be a capable fighter, and should someone set their mind to kidnapping me I’m not sure how much trouble they’d have. I’d struggle of course,” her head tilted givingly, “but I’m small and light, so that’s not saying much, despite Bobbi and Skye’s best efforts,” she laughed a little, “So the idea that I’d been kidnapped or trapped somehow and you, my own personal superhero, would come and rescue me was a fond scenario. It was highly romanticized of course, and it would very likely have been quite miserable in real life, but that’s what day-dreams are for right?”
Her mouth snapped shut as she realized she was rambling, and most of what she was saying was pretty embarrassing. She nearly shivered with pleasure when Clint nuzzled his way down until his lips were near her ear, when he spoke his voice was soft and low, meant for her and her alone, “I used to wonder which words I would finally say to you when I saw you again,” he murmured, “I’d lay awake at night surrounded by the worst forms of hell imaginable and I’d think of all the things I’d say. How I’d tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky I was, how smart and brilliant I think you are, how head over heels I am for you, how I spent years watching over you, making sure you were taken care of.”
Jemma gasped, a puzzle piece finally sliding into place. Turning in his arms she stared up at Clint with surprise, “You paid for my loans,” she realized, “And that time when my car was totaled…you bought me a new one?”
Clint seemed unsure of whether to confirm or deny her comments but ultimately he nodded, “Yes,” he confirmed, a small spark of worry in his eyes, “Money was something that wasn’t an issue for me, you were young and brilliant, you didn’t need to be bogged down by student loans. And the car thing…” he shrugged, his eyes briefly darted away from hers nervously before he braved looking down at her again.
Her eyes searched his for a moment before she found herself reaching up to pull his head down to hers so she could kiss him. They both froze in surprise as her lips first touched his, but neither of them pulled away. Jemma’s mind began to race thinking of excuses and distractions she could offer to make the moment less awkward, but before she could pull away to start giving them Clint hummed a pleased noise and pulled her closer, his lips pressing against hers gently.
She felt her body go pliant against his, molding her front to his until there was no space between them as he kissed her long and deep. She could feel the tension leaving his body the longer he held her and she couldn’t help the sigh of contentment that left her when he prodded her lips open with his tongue. Her thoughts scattered as the kiss went on and on until he finally pulled back, nuzzling her forehead with his nose and lips, “I hope that doesn’t count as my New Year’s kiss,” he breathed, his warm breath fanning over her face.
Jemma resisted the urge to shake her head, wanting to keep him exactly where he was (so close, so warm and good, she could stay here like this forever), “There will definitely be more of that in our future,” she finally managed to piece together. Her eyes shot open as her words finally sank in, “I mean if you want, I wouldn’t want to assume—“
Clint chuckled and swooped in to kiss her again. Okay, as far as methods to turn her brain off, this was by far one of her favorites. She hummed in contentment as the kiss went on before she finally had to pull away for air, “I take it that’s a yes?” she breathed feeling breathless and lightheaded in the most wonderful of ways.
Another warm chuckle had her pealing her eyes open to find Clint smiling down at her, “That’s is a definite yes, for as long as you’re willing to let me kiss you, I will be taking as many kisses as I can get,” he kissed her forehead, “I’m not going to lie and say it will be easy, and sometimes I might have to leave so I don’t say or do something we’ll both regret, but I promise I won’t ever stay away long,” he took a deep breath and kissed the bridge of her nose before meeting her eyes with his, “ I want this Jemma, I want us to be together, and if you’re willing to do this with me…” he trailed off.
“More than willing,” she smiled back, her heart flipping eagerly at the warmth in his stare.
His lips moved to rest against her forehead again in a lingering kiss, “Then we’ll do this,” he decided. A serene sort of confidence fell on him once he spoke, having the odd effect of relaxing her further. He tightened his arms around her as she leant into him, holding her close with a soft kiss to the crown of her head.
This, this peace, contentment, safety and the feeling home she felt while wrapped in Clint’s arms, this was worth waiting seven years for. All the tears she’d cried, all the dreams she’d dreamt, the longing and hope she’d held for this moment, it had all been worth it. This was above and beyond what she’d imagined, she was happy and relieved and the feelings of this moment were more intense and wonderful than she’d even dared to hope for.
They were going to be fine. Jemma and Clint, Clint and Jemma, they were going to stand the test of time. They didn’t need that kiss at midnight to promise they’d be together for the whole year, because right now? Standing here together, exchanging occasional kisses and holding each other close? This was them, promising forever. Midnight could come and go, and while they’d more than likely take advantage of the traditional kiss sharing, Jemma had no concerns for their future, this year or any year after it.
As long as they had each other, she and Clint were going to be just fine.