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You hate mornings. Any time before 10 a.m. is on the receiving end of your exhausted ire, and you barely stop to think about why you decided to work at a coffee shop that opens at 5 a.m. Oh right, you’re broke in New York and thousands of miles from your nearest relative or friend. At least your apartment wasn’t too expensive; sure it was old, all the doors stuck, and the water was always cold, but at least it was a roof over your head and a space to call your own.
As you go through your morning routine, you mumble to yourself about all the chores you need to do when your shift ends. You miss the days when you lived with your parents, never having to worry about money, clothes, or food. You sigh at your reflection, taking in the bags under your eyes as you wonder about the possibilities of de-aging potions. I mean, if aliens, gods, and superheroes exist, there’s got to be some way of turning back the clock. But unfortunately, you’re just a regular ol’ human, just barely getting by.
You head off to work, making your way out of the apartment building as quietly as possible. Just because you have to suffer doesn’t mean your neighbors should. When you make it to work (only 2 minutes late!), you’re stunned to see a man sitting and sleeping next to the door. He looks to be in his late 30s, early 40s. He’s not a bum – you think, bums usually wear more layers than just a simple t-shirt and pants – but you’re still on alert. It doesn’t escape you that he’s muscular, more built than most of the men you interact with. Bad memories of what arms like that have done to you flash through your head as the morning crowd bustles around you as you slowly make your way to the door, and consequentially the man.
He looks up at you as you unlock the door. His eyes are bloodshot, like he’s only gotten to sleep 10 minutes ago. He’s definitely confused, and the dinosaur bandage on his nose would be adorable, if you weren’t so sure that this man could probably cause you a lot of harm.
“Whatimeizit?” He asks blearily, blinking and stretching slowly.
“Just a little after 5.” You frown as you notice more band-aids on his arms and neck. “Are you okay?”
“Futz.” He mutters. “Wha? Yeah, sorry ‘bout being in your way. I’m fine.” He stands up slowly, stretching one leg after the other as he pulls a face.
“You don’t look okay.” You say as you open the door. He waves you off. “At least come in and let me make you some coffee?” What the heck is wrong with you? You were just terrified of this man and now here you are five minutes later, offering him a free cup of coffee. You blame his clear blue eyes. You’ve always been a sucker for blue eyes. “I mean, why would you be asleep in front of a coffee shop if you weren’t waiting for coffee?” That was dumb. You were dumb and you forced your mouth shut so you’d stop babbling.
Thankfully (you think?) he chuckles and nods. “Yeah, sure. Coffee’s good. Thanks.” You have no idea what to say to that so you open the door and nod him in as you get busy setting up for the day.
The customer service part of your brain finally kicks back on. “It’ll be just a minute! Just need to get everything ready for the day.” He just kind of stands in the center of the room awkwardly as you run about disabling the alarm, setting up the tables, and turning the lights and machinery on. “So what exactly would you like?” You ask when you finally get to the counter, smiling politely. Despite how polite you’ve been to him, you still hope other customers will show up soon so you won’t be alone with this guy.
“Just a plain coffee. As black as you can make it.” He asks, still standing there uncomfortably. He scratches at his stubble as he orders.
“You got it!” You move quickly back to grind up the beans and get the filter out for the pot. “Go take a seat. I’ll get it to you once it’s done.”
“Don’t I have to pay you?” He asks as he stays at the counter. Your mind is viewing him less and less of a threat. Or maybe it’s your heart. Either way, he’s becoming more adorable and less threatening every second.
You shake your head, still not facing him. “You look like you had a rough night; this is on the house.” You turn to see him still standing there, with confusion all over his face. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Go have a seat.”
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t hear you.” He turns his head and taps next to the device in his ear. You nearly blush from the embarrassment of not noticing the hearing aid earlier. “Thanks though.” He reaches into his pocket and fumbles around before pulling out a 5 and some 1’s before putting them in the tip jar.
“You do realize you just tipped me what 3 cups cost, right?”
He shrugs. “I’ve got money.” You eyebrows shoot up and you look him up and down before you can think about how rude that would be. “No seriously, I’m famous. Kinda?” You close your mouth tighter than before. “I’m an Avenger? Hawkeye?” It’s probably not possible for your eyebrows to go any higher, but your mouth does drop open in surprise.
“Oh!” You don’t really know what to say except from that. Congrats on being so articulate. But to be fair, one of your heroes is standing in front of you and all you can think about it is the silly crush you used to have on him and how your parents always said he was the worst on the team. “I uh, I know you. I mean, I know of you.” Oh god, here comes the babbling. He just looks happy that you’ve heard of him. Gosh, he’s handsome. “That explains the arms. I mean – I just put my foot in my mouth. Um. Feel free to ignore me.” Your face is extremely hot. Maybe he’ll ignore how your voice has shot up an octave or two.
He just smiles, though he does look a little bewildered. “Not the worst greeting I’ve gotten.” He finally goes to sit down. “Just think of me as Clint, though. Leave that hero worship stuff for Steve or Tony.”
“They’re not coming, are they?” You ask a little hesitantly as the coffee machine thunders over the soft music playing on the radio. “Not that I mind, but the crowd’s usually bad enough without a bunch of world famous heroes and their fans trailing after them.”
“Nah, you’re just gonna have to settle for me today.” He plays with the sugar packets as he waits.
You want to tell him it’s not settling for less. He’s a hero, just like the rest of them. He’s an underdog too. Just a man with a bow and some arrows, but the things he’s accomplished are extraordinary. You hold back though. One, you really don’t know anything about him. Two, he seems like he doesn’t want the praise. Three, he doesn’t really seem to mind the fact that people scamper to crowd around Captain America and Iron Man. And so, you let it go. “So what happened? You’re pretty beat up.” You let the coffee sit in the pot for a few seconds before you grab a mug for him. It’s one of the bigger ones the shop has, but there’s no way he’d know that.
“This is nothing.” He shrugs. “I’ve had worse – thanks” He says as you deliver the drink. “Just some low level mafia stuff going on. I’m handling it.”
“Obviously.” You stare pointedly at the bandage on his nose. A bell rings as more customers come in. “Just let me know if you want anything else, okay? If you’re fighting the mafia, you deserve more than just one measly cup of coffee.” You don’t leave any room for argument as you move back to the counter starting on the orders for the slowly growing line.
He stays for about a half an hour before leaving. You can’t be certain, but you feel as though eyes from his area of the room had been watching you as you moved about the room. When you finally get to bus the table he’d been at, the cup’s completely empty and there’s a receipt next to it that has “thanks” and a smiley face scrawled on it. You think. His hand writing is worse than yours and that’s saying something.
You wish you’d had more time to talk with him. But you it was fun while it was just the two of you, and you’re satisfied with the brief interlude you’d had with him.
---
Three weeks later, he’s back. This time it’s around 11, after the rush. Most of the bandages are gone (including the adorable dinos on his nose), and he’s wearing a hoodie this time. There’s a girl with him. She’s got long black hair, and just as beautiful blue eyes, and she’s probably a few years younger than you. It seems a bit weird, but hey, she’s probably a super too. You brush off the little hint of jealousy (you don’t even know what she is to him, damn it) and greet them.
“Glad to see you looking less haggard than last time.” You say as they approach the counter. The girl looks up at Hawk-Clint, you remind yourself, and raises an eyebrow. He just scratches the back of his head in response.
“Figured I should come and buy something after last time.” The girl’s eyebrow goes up even more and he nudges her with his elbow. She shoves him back.
“I’m Kate. The Hawkeye that gets beat up less.” She finally addresses you. “He didn’t do anything stupid did he?”
“Wha-hey! Kate-”
You laugh. “Not unless you consider getting beat up by the mafia and passing out in front of a coffee shop stupid.” She shrugs. Apparently that wasn’t stupid. “He did turn down some free coffee as well.”
“I had a cup!” He says indignantly. Kate just rolls her eyes and sighs.
“Utterly ridiculous.” She mutters. After a quick scan of the menu, she announces, “I’ll have a chocolate chip bagel.”
“We’re at a coffee shop and you’re just getting a bagel?” He turns to you. “Same as last time, thanks.”
“No problem.” You say at the same time Kate says, “You lost the right to criticize when you turned down free coffee.”
You get a bagel and warm it up before handing it over to the woman. “The total’s $6.87. Sorry, but this time I have to charge.” Kate waves a hand and gives you the money while Clint again, tips more than that. You frown. “Um. Last time I understand since I didn’t actually charge you anything, but you don’t have to tip so much.”
He shrugs. “You could probably use it more than me.”
“I…Okay.” You’re really not sure what to make of what he said. Does he think that you’re struggling? Well, you mean, you kind of are, but you hadn’t thought it was that noticeable. “Thanks. Coffee’ll be ready soon.” Kate raises the bagel in acknowledgement before they head over to a table.
They talk low among themselves as you clean other tables. Every once in a while Kate glances over at you, and sometimes Clint’s eyes follow but usually they stay on her. You like her. She’s blunt and nice, and Clint obviously cares about her so she clearly is a good person. He smiles and mouths ‘thanks’ to you when you bring him his drink but other than that you don’t interrupt them. After they leave you sigh. Kate’s obviously important to Clint. And you saw the way he was looking at her. You’re slightly jealous but you know you have no way of competing with her. Not that you’d really want to. A few seconds later, she’s in front of you again. You’re about to ask if she wants anything else when she speaks.
“He likes you, you know.”
“Anyth-wait, what?”
“That’s why he’s tipping you a lot. I mean, he tips more than most people, but usually not that much. He likes you but he’s not gonna come out and say it.”
“Oh. I thought you two…” You trail off and make some gesture with your hands. It gets the point across.
“Gross. No, we’d drive each other crazy. I just wanted to warn you that he’s bad at relationships.”
You blink. “I’ve only seen him twice.” It’s way too early to be thinking like that, no matter how much you wanted to.
She shrugs. “He’s moved faster before. That’s probably not a good wingwoman thing to say, but whatever.” She scrunches her nose. “Anyway, if you do become involved, he may try to push you away. It’s just what he does. If you ever hurt him – not that I think that’ll happen – me and others will be keeping an eye on you, so don’t.” She’s completely serious.
“This is a little fast.”
She shrugs and turns around to leave. “We’re heroes. Our lives tend to go faster than most people’s.”
---
Months pass. Clint and Kate continue to visit, sometimes together, sometimes separately, sometimes with others. More often than not, they come with other people. Before you realize it, it’s Christmastime and you’re writing dozens of cards to family and friends, and avoiding looking at your bank account as much as possible. Your card hasn’t declined at any store yet, so there’s a good sign, probably.
You like Clint (and Kate) a lot. You’ve been getting closer to them over the months, learning about their lives and them learning about yours. Your stories aren’t as interesting, but you’re moved by how much they care about letting you share as well. If you didn’t know any better, you would have no idea that they were heroes.
Clint watches you more openly now, and you do your best not to blush under the warmth of his gaze. When you meet his eyes, you smile slowly as Kate rolls her eyes at the two of you. Not much else has changed between you though. He still tips too much, and you still protest. You enjoy the slow build of whatever the two of you have.
The only problem is you have no idea what to get him for Christmas. You automatically think arrows, because spares are probably important, but you realize you have no idea if there’s different types of arrows or if some are better than others. Plus he probably has a lot of arrows and people that make them for him. Your next thought is coffee, because of course it is. But that’s why he comes to you and you’d rather be more original than that. There’s always the fallback of cookies, but you have no idea what type he prefers or if he has allergies or anything. You decide to come back to that later.
Kate is infinitely easier to shop for, once she mentions she plays the cello. You get her two music books and dog food, since of the two she seems more like to feed their (his? her?) dog actual dog food. As a treat for Lucky, you do get him some dog bones though.
You spend weeks fretting over what to get him. As you’re shopping around, you spot loads of things you think he’d like, but nothing you’re absolutely certain about.
In the end, you order him a small bag of Kopi Luwak coffee beans, a first aid kit with a few boxes of cutesy bandaids, and making him a few brownies. It’s overkill, you know, but you seriously have no idea what he’d like. Plus, you have no idea if they’re going to be visiting any time soon. At the very least, you can eat the brownies yourself while continuing your family’s tradition of watching the Christmas Spongebob episode on Christmas Day.
They don’t show up. Granted, there is another threat from Dr. Doom, so you’re left worrying rather than disappointed. Your family calls you to make sure you’re safe. You joke that you’re freezing, but aside from that you’re fine. It’s not exactly true. You spend the week slowly chipping away at the brownies, reading the news as much as possible with dread and hope. You spend a lot of time at the library, keeping warm and busy as you try to keep on with your life.
A week later and they are coming home. You’re thankful, but still worried about him. It’s probably more than rational to be worried about him, considering how you two met. You don’t doubt that it’ll be long time until you see him. He’s never really adhered to a scheduled, and if he’s injured, there’s a good chance he’s in the hospital or spending time with his team. A cup of coffee is probably the last thing on his mind.
You mentally shrug, and try to get on with life. You’re only human after all, and there’s only so much time you have in the world. You decide to go out and have some fun soon on your day off. Ice skating sounds good, even if you haven’t skated in years. Perhaps you’ll even make some friends soon. You try not to think about all the heroes that’ve come in your life and how despite all the differences, they made you feel like you belonged.
And so you do just that. You go ice skating and it’s fantastic. It’s too cold, you’re unsteady, and one point a small girl hurtles straight into your leg, causing you both to fall and her mother to come and apologize. You brush it off, more concerned about the girl, and quickly you’ve found yourself an unlikely pair of friends. The mom, a small Chinese woman by the name of Queenie swaps numbers with you and invites you over for food and a movie the next time you’re available. The three of you skate around more, laughing and falling. Your legs and elbows are definitely going to be bruised but meeting Queenie and Graceis worth it.
The gifts still sit along the wall, wrapped and forlorn looking. You do your best not to wince when you look at them. Eventually you move all of them (including the dog food, which is a challenge) into the small hallway closet. If (not when, but if) Clint or Kate shows back up, you’ll let them know about them. But for now you’re stuck with the gifts. You curse yourself for not asking either of them for a number.
You ring the New Year in with them. You dance and sing and eat better than you have since leaving home. It almost fills the void and you almost don’t think about the archers in your life.
---
It’s a month after meeting Queenie and Grace that Clint finally hobbles into your shop, just after opening. He’s got a cast on one of his arms, and bandages all over his face again. He looks grumpy and sad, probably due to the cast.
You’re not sure what to say when he comes up to the counter, so you settle for a smile and “The usual?” He nods and you notice the bags under his eyes. “Go sit down, Mr. Hero. Looks like you had another rough night.” For once, he doesn’t try to tip and just listens to you, which is kind of worrying. At least, it’s worrying until he almost immediately falls asleep in the chair, slumping down and snoring loudly. You laugh and smile fondly at him. You get him two cups of coffee and a muffin, putting some of the tip money he’s given you during his previous visits into the register.
When you set the cups and plate down in front of him as quietly as possible, he startles awake with a snort and grabs your arm with his injured one.
“Just me, Clint.” You say as he reorients himself to the land of the awake. “Nothing to worry about.” You glance at his ear and see one of his aids is missing. You frown, wishing you’d taken sign language in school. You’d seen him signing with Kate and Natasha before. You’d learned the ASL alphabet back in elementary school, but that was all you really knew. You tap on his shoulder and sign, ‘OK’ when he looks up at you. He nods again and you think you hear a mumbled “sorry” as he lets go of your arm. You smile and slowly fingerspell ‘it’s fine.’ You point to the food and coffee and pat his shoulder, which makes him wince. You do your best to look apologetic before he says “Don’t worry.” The words are a little louder than he probably intended. You nod and make your way back to the counter. Once there, you remember all about the gifts sitting up in your apartment, but you don’t think now would be a good time to ask if he wants them. He’s barely staying awake as he drinks and the man clearly needs sleep more than anything. Kate comes in about 20 minutes after he finishes the first cup, which took him an extremely long time. She shoots him a worried glance, much kinder than most she gives him when he’s paying attention.
“How long’s he been here?” She asks.
“Pretty much since opening.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “He gets like this every time his arms are out of commission. He’ll be back to normal in about a month but he’s going to be moping until then.” She pauses. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
“Of course. He really needs to sleep though. That’s probably the third time he’s almost fallen asleep here. Happy late Christmas, by the way. I have some gifts for you two and Lucky.”
She groans. “Futz. Knew I forgot something. Sorry, with Doom and everything, we just kinda lost track of it.”
“Hey, you saved the world and came back. That’s enough of a present for me.” You smile. “They’re back at my place but I could bring them over to yours after my shift, if you want. Just need the address.”
“Sure.” You give her a pen and some receipt paper and she writes down the address in clear legible words. “It’s Clint’s place, by the way. “
“I’ll be there a little after 1.” You pocket the note and plan on a cab to help you get everything there.
Kate leaves you to go collect Clint. She drinks the second cup of coffee before dragging him and the half-eaten muffin out the door.
“Come on Hawkguy, let’s get you home.” She says as she pulls him out the door, nodding at you. You can’t wait for your shift to be over.
---
You struggle getting the dog food and bag of gifts down your stairs and into the cab. You’re nervous which is silly, because this is Clint we’re talking about; Clint the absolute dork that’s spilled coffee on himself twice in front of you, Clint that wears dinosaur bandaids, Clint who adopted a dog that’s missing an eye and routinely feeds said dog pizza. But you still have no idea if your gifts are anywhere near good enough or anything that he’d like and you really want to make him happy, even a little bit.
You pay the cab driver and groan as you realize his apartment is at the top of the building. And of course the elevator is out, leaving you to struggle with the bag as you slowly make your way up the stairs, worrying about how out of breath you’re getting. You definitely need to exercise more if you’re getting winded from this. When you finally reach the door you’re looking for, you let the bag drop and take a few minutes to catch your breath before knocking. You hear several barks, going away then coming closer before the door opens and Clint’s standing in front of you in sweatpants and rubbing his face with his good hand. It’s really hard to focus on his face and not the abs.
“Uh, hi?” He says as he squints at you, still not fully awake. “How’d you get my address? Why do you have dog food?”
“Happy late Christmas?” You say slowly, suddenly not sure about all of this. “Kate gave me the address when she got you earlier today.”
There’s another ‘woof’ as Lucky pushes his way past Clint, tail wagging as he jumps on you.
“Aw, Lucky, no. We’ve talked about this.” You hear over the dog’s panting and your own laughter. “You don’t even like kibble.” He says as he pulls the dog off you. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. You’re a big cutie, Lucky.” The dog woofs happily in response and you pull one of the dog bones out the bag. “Here, boy.” He scarfs it down from your hand before licking your hand clean. “I have some presents for you and Kate too. I can leave if you want to sleep more though.”
“No, I just forgot. Kate left. Something about meeting up with America. She’ll probably be back tomorrow. Come on in.” He opens the door more and grabs the bag of dog food. “I uh, I didn’t get you anything for Christmas, though.”
“You’ve been tipping me ridiculously this entire time and you stopped Doom from whatever he had planned so there. Christmas present. I’m alive and with more money than before.” You internally wince at how deadpan your voice is. “I really mean it; you don’t have to get me anything.”
“Aw, but you got me stuff. I have to get you stuff now.” He shuts the door after you come in and you take in the apartment. It’s nice and open, though it doesn’t offer much privacy with the loft bedroom. On one wall there are a couple of targets set up with dozens of arrows through them. The arrows on one form a star pattern, while the other looks like the archer was just practicing nonlethal shots. The walls are violet and you’re not sure if you should be surprised or not. The wall directly across from you is a giant window, with a decent view of the surrounding buildings. “Sorry about the mess. I haven’t cleaned in a while.” It doesn’t smell bad so you don’t mind, once you overlook the dirty clothes tossed around the place.
“You must get all the ladies with a place like this.” You say making your way over to the kitchen counter and put the bag of gifts down on a clean spot. You internally cheer as you spot a coffee maker. “I did originally have brownies for you too, but I ate them while you were busy with hero stuff. I uh, really had no idea what to get you though. “
“Seriously, anything’d be good. But you didn’t have to.” He says as he pulls the presents out of the bag, inspecting them and putting Kate’s off to the side.
“It’s Christmas! Or it was.” You shrug. “You’re supposed to do stuff for the people you care about. So you save the world, and I bake and shop. Sounds like a win-win to me. Now open ‘em.”
He opens the coffee beans first. “You still didn’t have to give me anything. You’ve been giving me free coffee for months now.” He looks at the package, turning it as he reads. “You got me coffee.”
“Like I said, no idea what to get you. But you really like coffee – or you act like you really like coffee, so I got you coffee.”
“…Does this say the beans were digested by a civet?” You can feel yourself heating up. “Is this poop coffee? And what the futz is a civet?” He tilts his head and his eyebrows furrow. Lucky comes over and curls up by his feet.
“Yes? I mean, they’re not able to break it down so they just kinda pass it. And it’s washed afterwards! I have no idea what a civet is though. But yeah, I just got you a sampler of it so you could just get rid of it if you don’t like it. A lot of people like it and I figured it was worth a shot.” Yeah, your face feels like it’s on fire. “The other gift’s less weird, I swear.”
“No, thank you, I appreciate it. But it’s still poop coffee. Poop coffee from an animal that I don’t know.”
You groan and put your hand on your forehead. “Just open the other gift, okay? I took a gamble.”
Thankfully, he drops the issue about the coffee. You’re still planning on leaving as soon as possible to save what little grace you have left.
He laughs when he opens up the first aid kit and bandages go everywhere. Lucky huffs and shakes some off of him but the dog doesn’t move aside from that. “Since you seem to need them a lot.” You explain softly. You both bend down to pick the spilled contents off the floor. “I’m guessing you already have a kit, but better to have excess and not need them, right?” Lucky licks your hands a few times as you pick up some more of the band-aids.
“Yeah, I guess my track record isn’t too great.” He agrees and scratches Lucky’s neck with his cast. “Thank you.” His voice is warm and you feel like you’re melting.
“Even for the poop coffee?” Nice way to ruin a moment, brain. Good on you. Here you are in front of a handsome (still shirtless) man in his apartment, and he just praised you, and now you’re asking him about something embarrassing,
“Well, it was pretty thoughtful. Even if it is poop coffee. And I don’t have a grinder.”
“I could grind it for you.” You blurt out. Your brain automatically goes to other things you could be grinding. You haven’t even kissed the guy yet. Definitely too soon for those kind of thoughts.
“Yeah?” He’s looking directly at you, one eyebrow raised. There’s still bunches of band-aids in all of your hands. You feel vulnerable under that gaze, like he’s staring into your soul. You feel so warm and your heart is pounding.
You nod and swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry. “Merry Christmas, Clint.”
“Merry Christmas.” He moves all the bandages he’s holding to one hand and uses the other to gently cup your face. You shudder gently as he strokes your cheek. “Is this-?”
“Yeah. This is good.” You confirm, shuffling towards him a bit more. It’s awkward moving forward since you’re both still bent down, but you’re at an even height, so you’re fine with it. “I’ve just been wanting this for a while is all.”
“Me too.” He says as he continues to stroke your cheek, his thumb brushing close to your lips. “Sorry I’ve been gone for a while.”
You shake your head and let the bandaids fall from your hands. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re back. I worried about you.” You put one hand on his shoulder and let your eyes close. “Knew you’d be back, but still.”
“I’m gonna make you worry a lot then.” He kisses your forehand and you sigh.
“You’re worth it, Clint. You’re worth that and so much more.” It’s his turn to shudder now from the sincerity of your words.
“I’m too old for you, you know?”
You frown. “Dad always said older men were better.” He doesn’t laugh. “I was joking. I’m not interested in you because of your age or because you’re Hawkeye, you know? I don’t need or want you to convince me that you’re not good enough for me, Clint. It’s too late and it’s not true.”
“But-“
“Nope. No buts.” You put one finger over his mouth. “Kate told me that you’d try to do this. Push me away and everything. I get it. But you can’t get rid of me that easily, okay? So please don’t try to sabotage this before it’s really even started.” You move your hands away. “Okay?” The mood’s definitely changed. You desperately want to kiss him still, but you don’t think it’d be right. The hand on your face has stopped moving.
“Okay.” He sounds lost. You move closer and gather him in your arms as best as possible with Lucky still between you two. You press a kiss to the side of his head and he moves to embrace you, his cast pulling at your shirt as he winds his arms around you. You sigh softly at the gesture and rub your head against his.
“Trust me?” It’s a big request, you know. He’s in a career that routinely puts him in the midst of criminals and liars. You wouldn’t fault him for never fully trusting you. You know you’d have trouble if you were in his position.
His grip tightens and Lucky whines and squirms as you’re pulled on top of him more. “Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate.
“Thank you.” Lucky makes his way out from underneath you and you fall more towards the archer. “I trust you too.”
The two of you spend a long time curled up like that. At some point he starts to pull back and you let him. “Do you want something to eat?” He asks.
You shake your head. “I should probably get going and let you rest some more. You still look pretty tired. Thanks though.” You smile and pat his knee before standing up. Your knees protest after holding that position for so long so you shake your legs. “Come visit me soon?” You ask. There’s still no real definition for what the two of you are, but you don’t expect him to come see you every day.
“Yeah, gotta get you a gift’n’all.” He says as he stands. You just shake your head. “I’ll come by sometime this week.”
“You’ve done way more than enough for me.” He’s obviously not going to drop it. “Just get me a card, or something.”
“Something.” He echoes. Lucky sighs from over on the couch, watching the two of you. “See you?” He says as he leads you to the door. You press a kiss to his cheek before you leave.
“I’m holding you to that, Hawkeye.” You smile at him and wink. “Now get some sleep.”
“Yes ma’am.” He salutes you with his cast, knocking his arm against the door as he moves his hand away from his head. You can’t help but laugh.
“Dork.” You say as he mutters and clutches his arm. You move towards him again and lean up to kiss him. He instantly stops holding his arm and moves his hands to your hips. His lips are chapped and warm against yours. The kiss itself is chaste and gentle. “Be more careful?” You ask when you part.
“Not really something I’m good at. I’ll try.” He placates before pulling you in again. This time there’s tongue and less gentleness to the kiss. It’s going wonderfully until his stomach rumbles and you can’t help but laugh. For his part, he looks sheepish. “Whoops.”
“You weren’t just being polite when asking about food earlier. Come on, let’s order something.”
“You fine with Chinese?” He lifts you up and puts you down in the room again, kicking the door closed behind him. It’s incredibly hot that he’s able to do that. Plus he’s still shirtless which is very nice.
“Chinese is good. Let’s pretend to watch something on t.v. while we wait.”
---
You make out like teenagers until the food shows up, then clean and eat straight from the containers as you actually watch a Star Wars marathon. You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs entangled, when Kate shows up. She raises an eyebrow at the two of you, especially since Clint has still not put on a shirt, but she nods, and just says, “You better have saved some for me.”
“You went out with America! Is your girlfriend not feeding you?” Clint asks. Of course you two had saved her some.
“Your Christmas/saving-the-world-gift is on the counter!” You call as she makes her way over there.
“You better keep this one, Hawkeye.” She smiles at the music books before coming over to the sofa. “Now scooch, lovebirds. I want some food too.”
“Already planning on it, Hawkeye.” You leave a container of fried rice for her as you curl up against Clint. “No plans to do anything dumb this time around.”
“Shocking.” Kate mutters and Clint kicks her knee as you laugh.
Once the marathon ends, Kate decides to leave. The two of you wave her off as she leaves before deciding what to do next. It’s already dark and you’d rather not get a cab at this hour, just in case. It’s your first date though, and while you usually avoid the ‘rules’ of dating, falling into bed with him right now is probably too soon. You’re definitely not ready for anything more than cuddling and making out, which is something he’s respected.
“Want to go home?” He asks, stroking your hair.
“I’d like to stay, if that’s okay.” You lean into his hand. “I’m not ready to fool around more than we have, but I’d like to stay the night all the same.”
“Sure. Not gonna make you do anything.” He reassures you. “You have work tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’m not opening though, so nothing to worry about.” He’s directed you to the bed when you weren’t paying attention. “Don’t suppose you have any clothes I could use as pajamas.”
“I’ve got some shirts and pajama pants you could probably use.” He says before kissing your head and moving to the dresser. “Want to change in the bathroom?” He asks as he tosses clothes onto the bed.
“Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.” You grab the clothes and rush to the bathroom, quickly using the toilet, washing your hands and face, before changing and making your way back to the bed. Lucky’s curled up on the end of the bed and Clint’s already laying down on the right side. You crawl in to the left and make your way over to the archer, pressing your bare feet to his legs and sighing at how warm he is. “You’re the best.” He taps the bedside table, letting you see that he already took his aids out.
You make out a bit more before you fall asleep in his arms.