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Y/n watches from afar as Clint’s arm flexes with the tautness of the bow, the arrow flowing the air effortlessly, the bullseye quivering as he hit it perfectly. She sighed in amazement, eyes glued to his corded arms. She couldn’t help it. He was absolutely perfect to her, in every possible way; He was tall, muscular but not overly so, and had the most amazing blue eyes she could get lost in forever.
“Are you spying on a certain Archer?” A teasing voice asked from behind her, the knowing smirk evident just from the tone. She spun to face her best friend, eyes rolling affectionately at the accusation.
“Wanda, is it truly spying if you both happen to be working out at the same time?”
“You can only use that excuse only if you actually work out.” Wanda teases, poking at Y/n’s stomach with her slim fingers.
Y/n swats at her, playfully growling. “I would be happy to let you know that I was working out. My eyes.” She sighs sheepishly, her eyes effortlessly finding their way back to Clint whose arms were still flexed, veins slightly protruding as he let another arrow fly through the air in a beautiful spiral, splitting the first one in half.
“Face it my dear, you are spying. Now, are you gonna do something about it? Or just stare at him from afar forever?”
No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t deny how right Wanda was. She felt the flush of embarrassment work its way up her neck, lighting up her face in fiery flames. She needed to decide what to do, and fast.
- - - -
Days went by; Y/n still doesn’t know what to do. She feels utterly lost but it still didn’t stop her from continuously crushing on Clint. Every glance her way, every smile, every “Hi.” made it that much worse. She was crushing; crushing hard. She knew that direct was best. Clint was smart; intelligent even but only when it came to tactics, assassinations, and plan of attacks. Most anything else…not so much. He thrived on and needed direct and to the point. Something y/n was not so good at. She was caught between a rock and a hard place, stolen glances being her ultimate comfort zone.
She sat at the island in the kitchen, idly doodling. It was a skill she possessed; one she secretly begged Steve to teach her when she first settled in. It was a small hobby at first, something to help her pass the time when not training or on missions. Until it slowly turned into a passion, something she found herself constantly thinking of, constantly wanting to do.
“Well would you look at that. I think you may have Cap beat.” A baritone voice spoke from above her. The shivers that ran down her spine were all too familiar, alerting her to the presence of one Clint Barton.
She titled up to spy him already staring down at her face, a rare impressed smile etched into the seam of his lips. She flushed red, looking down to avoid his gaze. She couldn’t help it. He lit up every inch of her; It was almost too much to handle. “I’m not that good.” She mumbles. Her hand shakes slightly as she rubs at her neck, heat licking at her face yet again, the blush climbing up her face.
“Come on, little bird. Give yourself some credit. I mean, who better to give Steve a nice little kick in the ass.” His added wink, fluttered her heart. She couldn’t breathe. He was gonna be the death of her without even knowing it.
“I-“
“Language!” A shout from the living room interrupted her quip, making her pause.
“Ah Cap, no. You’re no fun.” Clint sasses from above her, eyes glinting with mischief. Her belly contracts slightly as her shoulders shake with laughter, the sound loud and boisterous. She shook her head in wonder, folding in her lips to try and keep it in. She was enjoying the time she was spending with him and she wanted to soak in every second.
A quick beep interrupts their small moment, Clint averting his attention to his hip. She watches his lips curve downward, brows meeting as they crease into a frown. “Sorry kid, duty calls. We’ll have to catch up later.” The baritone of his voice filled with seriousness as he carries himself out of the kitchen, dismissively waving once before disappearing out of her gaze all too quickly.
She watches where he was for a moment before pulling out her phone, distractedly pulling up Wanda’s number.
Y/n: It’s official. I’m a goner
“Wanda”: What makes you say that?
Y/n: I can’t handle it anymore.
“Wanda”: Handle what?
Y/n: Idc what you say
Y/n: Clint is my husband.
“Wanda” : I gotta say little bird, nice tactics you got there.
Y/n: Since when do you
Y/n is typing….
Y/n freezes in her tracks, finally reading the name of the recipient of her text messages. She isn’t sure how she even got them mixed up in the first place, the contact names being worlds apart. She wanted to scream, wanted to punch something. Anything. Wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole, right then and there. Flinging her phone away from her, she groans with a mixture of pain and frustration as her forehead kisses the countertop.
Clint: Y/n? Little bird?
A beep fills the room once more, making her pause. Mindlessly her hand stretches out to find the forgotten phone, hoping he has rejected her politely.
Y/n: Hi Clint…
Y/n: Obviously that wasn’t meant for you to see…
Clint: You mean me being your husband? Since when did we get married? Did I accidentally miss our marriage?
Y/n: No! I mean…
Y/n: I meant you aren’t my husband?
She cringed even as she sent it, mentally face palming herself. If only Wanda could see her now. She watched her phone like a hawk, nail biting pressure building up in her stomach as she awaited the answer.
Clint: What if I wanted to be?
She felt her heart stop in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but this was something out of her dreams. Never once did she think it would be a reality.
Y/n: Oh my… marry me right now.
Clint: How bout we start with a first date?
Y/n: You got yourself a deal, Hawkeye