#0itmelex0

pre-relationship

1. how did they first meet?

okay so technically, they've known each since like kindergarten, maybe earlier. like the thompsons and maybanks are as local as you can get tbh and so they've always sorta known each other, but they didn't become friends until the third grade (after john b and jj became friends — i have my own canon for how the pogues became friends because kie saying she's been friends with them since kinder just does not add up for me anyways)

2. what was their first impression of each other?

leah pretty much thought jj was a dumbass and like,,,the kinda problem child but you know he was funny? leah was kind of a goody two shoes as a kid up until john b and jj so jj was pretty much like "operation make you more fun to be around"

3. did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

i mean, there's no pogue on pogue macking, but i think all of them sorta knew there was something going on, even if leah and jj didn't realize it, so when the slowburn really starts cooking in s2, they're happy ngl.

4. who felt romantic feelings first?

okay, so this is honestly where i struggle because i've changed the timing of leah and jj at least 80 times and everything shifts at least once a month. but honestly at the end of the day i think it's honestly one of those situations where they've always been in each others lives and it was subconsciously there but they pushed it down (leah because she wasn't gonna fuck shit up and jj because he's very much like the door's locked i'm not good enough etc etc) but yknow,,,stay tuned for whatever the fuck i do i guess ... really, it's jj that gets me because i'm like,,,no fucking clue what's going on with him re: leah. like honestly someone help i hate planning things like this i don't know how to portray shit.

5. did either of them try to resist their feelings?

yup yup yup, just a whole lot of going "nope not addressing that emotion fuck off feelings you're not real." also lowkey feel like jj at least once was just like,,,hooking up with someone just to like forget about whatever emotion was going through him about leah he was like nope nope. like this kid's entire mantra is deny deny deny like he probably lets his mind wander every once in a while and goes NOPE.

7. if you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

i think it'd be a lot of laughing it off and being like yeah right okay, or being like yeah platonic soulmates sure because it's denial city 24/7 over here pals.

8. what would their lives be like if they had never met?

in a word, shitty.

general

2. did they have an official first date? if so, what was it like?

in canon, not so far. however, in my perfect little headcanon world where the gold and shit isn't a thing, they either go out on the pogue into the marsh and just like go swimming and chill and have drinks or they go surfing/swimming at the beach.

3. what was their first kiss like?

okay, so they're gonna have their first kiss in season two during the hot tub party thing. it's after kie and pope skeddadle and after the emotional john b sees the tree thing but before rafe and barry crash. basically leah ends up going inside to get some water or something idk and she ends up sitting on the counter and jj follows after her as per usual because he's a golden retriever with her sometimes and they're like,,,kinda buzzed but not drunk but they're talking about how happy they are because you know john b is home and shit and jj jokes that he could be happier and she's like you're ridiculous what could possibly make today better and it's tense and there's vibes and basically goes as follows after their faces keep getting closer and shit

leah, very nervous because she's kinda come to terms with her feels and has no idea where jj stands: ...this could be a really stupid idea

jj, honestly kinda living in the moment (at least, that's how leah interprets it): i mean it's like i always say — stupid ideas have good outcomes all the time.

8. who gets jealous easier?

Stale Froot Loops have become her constant companion in the weeks since Clint and Natasha had been sent out on a mission—one Fury had deigned not to inform her of until they had gone. While some people bury their longing and loneliness beneath the burn of cheap alcohol, Abra far preferred this Kellog’s sponsored option. Nobody had every died from Froot Loop poisoning.

The apartment is dark as she digs her fork—the only clean utensil left—into the bowl. It remains dark—shadows dancing in the corners—as the hours bleed together. It remains dark as the spider latched to the wall spins its web, a masterful work of art she knows she’ll just tear down in the coming days.

There she sits, drowning her sorrows in milk and sugar infused Cheerios. The TV uncharacteristically silent, the radio silenced, the only sound accompanying her the rattling wheeze of the ancient AC unit—blasted on full despite the December chill snaking through the streets.

The crunch of the Froot Loops nearly drowns out the door as it creaks open on its protesting hinges. Clint stands in the doorway, though he was not so much standing as he was clinging to the door frame for dear life. He’s not injured where she can see, and the relief floods through her in waves. The fork sinks into the depths of the cereal box as she casts it aside. Words build in her throat, a protest, an inquiry, but they die on her lips as he crosses the apartment, forgoing his usual crashing spot on the couch.

He leans heavily against the kitchen counter, though she notes that he does so without a wince. No hidden injuries, either.

He presses a kiss against the crown of her head, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back. Abra leans into his touch instinctively—the dull ache of weeks of separation melting away beneath his hands. Her eyelids flutter closed, exhaustion finally creeping in as she drinks in the moment. The weariness coating her bones like lead, the defeated slump of Clint’s shoulders as he leans into her. The quiet buzz of electricity as it snakes through the kitchen. The AC unit still coughs and clanks away, its gasping wheezes almost drowning out the soft murmur of Clint’s voice.

“I love you, Abby.”

There’s no fanfare, no blinking billboard or firework display, just a simple whispered truth.

She settles her hand over top of his, lacing their fingers together. His palms are calloused, roughest at the tips of his fingers—the hands of an archer. She stares at their hands, intertwined in her lap, each patterned with fading scars and fresh purpling bruises. His thumb traces the curve of one of her scars, a thoughtless action that makes her heart beat so fast she fears it might burst.

She brings her free hand up to cup his face, tipping her head back so she’s looking into his eyes. The intensity she finds on his face takes her aback, the set of his features contrasting so sharply from the man who had trudged through the front door moments ago.

She presses her lips against his, soft, tentative, and so unlike any of their previous kisses.

And there it is again, a breathless whisper against her lips, “I love you.”

She breaks then, a smile tugging at her lips, and a soft laugh bubbling in her chest. She untangles her hand from his, holding his face between her hands as she leans back again to look him in the eyes. They’re crinkled in the corners, and she can feel his smile beneath her palms—identical to hers; a product of the same breathless rush.

He rests his forehead against hers, and even in the dark, she can feel as his smile fades. She tries to recall what little he had told her about the mission, but she comes up blank, searching for answers she didn’t have.

“I love you too, Barton,” she promises, “no matter what.”