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“Fuck it’s cold!” you shouted to no one in particular, as you were alone on your floor of Stark Tower, or at least you thought you were.
“My, my, what language,” Clint smirked as he walked out of the shadows.
You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, damn spy, he is too good at sneaking around. “Shut up Eros. I’m in a foul mood thanks to Tony shorting out the circuits with his last experiment, and the cold that is seeping in from the outside isn’t helping any.”
“I know the feeling. Crawling around in the vents isn’t as much fun when the metal is cold as ice, but I want to come and make sure you weren’t plotting to kill Stark,” Clint told you. “And would you quit with calling me Eros? I know that’s the Greek name for Cupid, and I am not a diapered cherub!”
“I know you aren’t, and I’m not comparing you to that one. I’m comparing you to the Eros that is all six pack abs, well-toned muscles, and worthy of being the son of Aphrodite,” you explained.
“Oh. Thank you,” he thanked the lack of lighting for hiding his blush.
“And I wasn’t plotting to kill Stark, just maim, severely injure, or at least end up looking like an idiot, therefore bruising his ego,” you smirked.
“I have a feeling that you’ll have some help with that last one if you ask,” he chuckled and sat on the couch.
“I’ll bet, and did I say you could make yourself comfortable?” you asked sarcastically.
“No, but I’m not crawling back through those vents,” he said as he grabbed the blanket you’d thrown over the back of the couch earlier. “Now come over here so we can help each other stay warm.”
That idea sounded terrible, and absolutely brilliant at the same time. You liked Clint, more than liked, but it wasn’t quite love yet. The thought of curling up on the couch with him, wrapped in a blanket, drinking something warm, and watching a movie together had always been more than appealing. The fact that he was offering you part of this fantasy was fantastic, but you were nervous about him finding out about your feelings and being rejected. Not because he’d be cruel, that’s just not Clint, but because you’d know he doesn’t like you in that way and it’d break your heart.
“(Y/N).”
You shook out of your thoughts and smiled shyly, “Coming.” You sat next to him and he draped the other end of the blanket around you, then pulled you closer.
“It’ll be easier to get warm, and stay that way if we’re closer,” he said in response to your unspoken question.
You simply nodded in response and settled into his embrace.
Each of you readjusted a few times, and at Clint’s insistence, you ended up lying on his chest. You honestly couldn’t complain. You were warm, comfy, and in the arms of your crush.
You let out a contented sigh and Clint smirked. “Comfy?” You nodded. “Good,” he squeezed you gently and kissed the top of your head.
Your eyes widened and you looked up at him. “Clint, do you like me?”
“Mhm, you like me don’t you?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t misread you.
“Yes, a lot.”
“Glad to hear,” he kissed you chastely and pulled you close again.
You tucked your hear under his chin with a smile and drifted off into a blissful sleep.
You woke the next morning still lying on Clint’s chest, but you could immediately tell something was different. You opened your eyes and saw that the power was back on, and you could sense the presence of others in the room.
“Morning sleeping beauty,” came the voice of Tony Stark.
“Go away Stark, before you end up with glitter covering everything you hold dear,” you muttered and closed your eyes again.
“Yeah, whatever, took you two long enough though,” he said as he walked towards the elevator.
You heard something akin to a smack up-side the head.
“Hey! What was that for Widow?”
“You know what.”
You and Clint, who had woken up thanks to Stark, chuckled at the exchange and settled down for a bit more cuddling.