#clint barton reader insert

Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Eighty-Five Days

“Holy shit, you got any idea how fuckin’ hard I am right now?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

“What? It’s seedy as hell,” you waved a hand. “You take me to the worst places.”

You swore, you could actually see him roll his eyes from the other side of the building. “Not exactly poetic, are they?”

The two of you were on top of an old disused warehouse in Harringay, listening with distaste as the men inside discussed their, ugh, merchandise. What was it with men and guns?

The weapons ring you’d fought in Holland Park was still at large, and Clint had spent the last two weeks tracking them down again. Honestly it was a testament to them that it had taken him this long, even without his old SHIELD connections. Whoever they were, they weren’t street level thugs.

…It made you feel the tiniest bit better about them getting the better of you in the park.

Clint had scrubbed through the local police files for any clues as to where they were setting up house. Between that and his own reconnaissance, he’d managed to track one of their prominent dealers to right under your feet.

“You still clear on the plan?”

Nodding, you unhooked the safety hood of your holster. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up with a raised brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Are you really about to lecture me about not taking revenge?”

Clint met your eye with an almost exasperated expression. “Point taken.”

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” you smirked, stretching out a kink in your neck. “Let’s go to work.”

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

That’s the only thought that came to you as you rolled behind the crates to your left, gun still in your hand. You came to a kneel, your back meeting the wood with a dull thump. They were too prepared, to ready for the two of you.

This wasn’t supposed to end in a shootout. This was supposed to be a quick job, and yet… how did they know about the two of you? They’d mentioned a boss in the park, someone who had guessed you’d been Clint’s back up, but still… they knew you were coming. Not well enough to lay a proper trap, to ambush you before you got inside, but well enough to be ready.

You ducked lower with a curse as wood shattered above you, large splinters raining down on top of you. Thankful for the hood that kept them out of your hair, you exhaled and turned to fire two shots back around the corner. One shot went wide, but you smiled grimly as the second bullet buried itself in a man’s shoulder. He cursed in a heavy Eastern European accent as you ducked back behind the crate.

“Did you have a plan B for tonight, or are we winging this?” you said into your comms. You heard a cry go up among those shooting at you, followed by shouts of confusion and a few wild shots. You winced despite yourself for a second, waiting for a response in your ear to assure you that they’d missed.

“I’m working on one,” Clint replied gruffly, and you released a small, relieved breath despite your faith in him.

“So… winging it, it is then,” you sighed wearily, setting a new magazine into your handgun and adjusting your hold on the grip. “You know, I kinda hate being the one to draw their fire.”

“I’ll make note of it for next time,” he replied dryly, and another gurgling cry went up among the men between the two of you as Clint shot back out of the shadows long enough to take one of them down. He sliced up two – the one you’d wounded and the man closest to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’ve got this under control.”

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

“Fuck this!” shouted one of them – a burly brunette with a greying beard and tattoos scattered over his biceps. “Get one of the pushka out here and end this!”

“Clint—” you said warningly, stealing a glance over the crates.

“Don’t panic,” he warned, and you swore you caught the glimpse of silver in a brief shift of the light to let you know exactly where he was. “You’re not their biggest problem right now.”

“Clint—”

A deafening blast sounded and you fell forward, hands flying automatically to your ears. The crate to your left exploded – as did the wall in front of you, burst apart in a wave of electric blue energy.

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

You scrambled away from where you’d hidden, throwing yourself behind an old forklift. Too late, you realized you’d left your gun behind, having dropped it when your hands had flown to your ears. Swearing to yourself, you winced as another blast fired. The building itself groaned as they blew another hole in a wall.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

“Just get outta here, Y/N! I’ll distract—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

“Goddamn it!” you growled, standing as you heard the men shout that they’d spotted the Ronin above them. You saw the gun – a bazooka-like cannon – turn upward, point directly at the shadowy figure above. “Stubborn-ass-son-of-a—”

The blaster fired, and you swept your arm upward in the same moment. A shield appeared seconds before the energy wave could hit Clint, knocking him to the side. The energy wave just barely glanced off the shield before blowing a hole in the roof and sending debris collapsing down on the men below.

“What are you—?”

“Take the moment, Clint; you can yell at me later!” you spat back through gritted teeth, sprinting towards the group still shielding themselves from falling bricks and timber. “Get out! I’m right behind you!”

Pulling the knife from the back of your belt, you turned it in your grip and plunged it into the hand of the man closest to the crate they’d pulled the pushka from, ignoring the way he screamed. You released it, instead grabbing the first weapon you could from the crate – thankfully, a much smaller hand-gun style weapon – and kept running. A few men managed to get off a few shots before you were clear, and you winced as you felt a bullet tear through your sleeve to graze your forearm.

Feet pounding too loud on the pavement, you made it quickly to an alleyway across the street, tucking your prize under your injured arm as you grabbed hold of the rung of a fire escape ladder with your other arm and swung yourself upwards. You could hear the building behind you continue to collapse as you climbed the ladder, and you winced as a hand gripped yours as you reached the top.

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?” you shot back breathlessly as Clint pulled you up onto the roof beside him. “What the hell kind of plan was that? You were gonna let them shoot you with that thing?”

“I’m faster than I look, Y/N,” he pointed out sourly. “And now they know—”

“They don’t know shit,” you argued. “There’s no way they could see the difference between that shield and whatever the hell they were shooting at us with.”

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint gave you a look that somehow managed to look grateful and exasperated all at once.

“Oh, and I totally get MVP this mission.”

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

“It is now,” you said proudly, finally managing to catch your breath. Ignoring the pain throbbing in your arm, you held out the gun you’d stolen. “Ta-freakin’-da, Barton.”

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

Clint repeated himself louder, but his voice was still muffled by the wood of the door and the spray of the shower.

“What?”

You heard the shower door open and a few dull sounds before the bathroom door in front of you opened. Water dripped over Clint’s bare torso and soaked his hair, one hand clutching the towel slung around his waist. You watched him hesitate as he met your gaze, watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob. “Latveria.”

“Lat– Latveria?”

“This is starting to feel dangerously like a bit,” Clint said dryly, stepping back into the shower stall. You felt heat rise in your face as he closed the door and the towel was thrown up over the top of it. You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before closing the lid of the toilet and perching on the edge of it. “That’s where the weapons are being made.”

“And they’ve made it all the way out here?” you replied, swallowing as you tried to pointedly avoid staring at the shower. The stall was made of textured, frosted glass, and while it granted Clint modesty, you could still just make out his silhouette against the screen. His hands rose to scrub through his hair, his profile turned just barely away from you.

“They’re global,” Clint told you, raising his voice over the spray. “I heard reports of them turning up in New York back before… Fury had someone else working on it.”

“And we just happened to stumble onto them in a park in London?”

Clint’s hands lingered at the back of his neck. “They’ve been making bigger waves lately. Guess she’s been getting a little cockier since the Decimation wiped out half the authorities that could work their case.”

“‘She’?”

Clint’s hands moved down his chest to his stomach, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, face burning. Your thighs pressed together despite yourself. You knew your voice had broken slightly as you’d spoken that one word.

“Lucia von Bardas.”

The water shut off, and you straightened slightly, your hands threaded together in your lap. The towel disappeared into the stall. “Should I recognize the name?”

“Only if you’re trying to be familiar with Eastern European politics,” Clint told you, the shower stall opening after a moment. “She’s a pretty big name in Latverian political parties. She’s got interests in most of the big exporters coming out of that place, including Von Doom Industries. There’s been rumors of her dealing in some… less than legal businesses for a while now. Guess now we’ve actually got some proof.”

Clint stepped out; the towel tucked securely around his waist once more. He seemed to be avoiding your eye, wiping down the foggy mirror with his palm.

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

You stood up, and Clint met your eye in the mirror. He sighed.

“That expression tells me you’ve already decided on the answer for us.”

***

“I’m starting to miss Stark’s money.” Clint sighed, settling back into the seat beside you.

“You’re the one who books these oh-so-deluxe travel arrangements,” you pointed out, attempting to find a comfortable position against the firm back of the bus seat. “You’d think with your super-ninja-spy-magic you’d be able to get us a fancier ride.”

“I’m not a ninja,” he told you patiently. “Or magic.”

“You’re a little magic.”

Clint shook his head with a smile; you were sure there was faint color on his cheeks as he dropped his head back against the headrest.

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

He answered with his eyes closed. “…About two days.”

“Two days?!” you repeated, when you saw his smile grow slightly, you scowled. “I kinda hate you, you know.”

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

He chuckled; eyes still closed. The bus pulled away from the curb, surprisingly empty. The sky outside was already dark, and the glow of the streetlights passed over the archer’s face. “We’re less likely to be recognized on the bus.”

“Curse you and your logic.”

Clint didn’t reply, and the two of you sat in silence for twenty minutes before you spoke again.

“It’s a little annoying how easily you can fall asleep.”

He smirked; eyes still stubbornly closed. “I’m not asleep.”

“…How about now?”

“Were you always this annoying on road trips?” he teased.

You laughed, closing your eyes too. “Oh, please. You’d be so bored without me.”

***

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep still lingering. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the wide expanse of road ahead of the bus told you you’d left the city a long time again, as did the faint pink glow tainting the deep purple of the night sky. You shifted, brow furrowing as you felt the warmth pressed up against your side and the rough fabric against your cheek. A comfortable weight rested against the crown of your head, and you frowned against the fuzziness still clinging to your tired mind.

Your eyes finally cleared to settle on the color of Clint’s jacket, and you felt his breath fan softly against your hair. You’d fallen asleep, your head falling against his shoulder, and he’d apparently done the same. His cheek was pressed against your hair, his breathing steady and even. A smile touched your lips as you let the sensation of his chest rising and falling lull you back into rest, and you ignored the sensible part of your brain that was trying to remind you that you were supposed to maintaining your distance from him.

Your eyes fell to your lap as your eyelids began to droop, and warmth flared in your cheeks. Your hand was on your thigh, and Clint’s rested beside it, his fingertips settled on the back of your hand. Your skin was warm and tingled under his touch.

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

.

.

.

You managed to hail a cab easily and gave them your address. The night shift of security guards chuckled at you as you struggled to make your way to the elevators. You did, however, notice one turn off the cameras so that Tony wouldn’t be able to use the video against you later. You would have to remember and bring them a fruit basket. Though you had a feeling that you wouldn’t be fully remembering tonight.

You finally made it into the elevator and quickly clicked your floor before bending down to unstrap your shoes. You were sick of wearing them and this would get you one step closer to being able to crawl in bed.

You made your way into the kitchen. Setting your shoes on the counter, you knew it was slightly gross, but you would make sure to wipe the counter down in the morning. You made yourself a glass of water, somewhere in the back of your mind, you had thought about the fact that you definitely hadn’t left any dishes in your sink and yet they were piling quite high in the sink, however you decided that your weren’t exactly in the right state of mind and that would be something to worry about in the morning.  You finished one glass of water before filling it up again and heading into the bedroom.

You were too tired and too drunk to bother turning on the light. You knew the layout enough to not worry too much about running into anything. You set the glass down on the nightstand before stripping off your clothes from the night. You were tired but there was no way you would be sleeping in such an  uncomfortable outfit.  You quickly went over to the dresser and pulled out the t-shirt that was on top.. You were happy to realize you managed to pull out an oversized one, perfect for sleeping in. You were sure it was probably one that you have stolen from Clint.

You finally made your way into bed and fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Had you taken longer to fall asleep you might have noticed that there was another body in the bed you had crawled into. You also might have felt them as they instinctively reached for you in their sleep and that they had quickly wrapped you in their arms.

~~

You woke up slowly, feeling foggy and disgusting. You had a massive headache, you felt like you were going to vomit at any moment and you were sweating. The last thing might have had something to do with the warm weight you felt behind you. It took you a minute to register that it was another person that was currently clinging to you.

You immediately stiffened, trying to recall the night before, but the last thing you could recall was Nat declaring that you were doing shots. You groaned as you mentally cursed her for convincing you that you could keep up with her drinking.

As you looked at your surroundings you were confused as you recognized the room. It wasn’t yours but it was also clearly one in the tower. It suddenly hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in Clint’s room. You found yourself holding your breath as you slowing turned your head to confirm that you were in fact being held by the archer.

“Fuck” You muttered as you tried to think of how to get out of this situation. You also were trying to rake your brain for the ending to your night. Clint had declined the invitation to come out, so you were trying to decide how you ended up in his bed. You also had no way of knowing what had happened and if you had finally made your feelings known to Clint but couldn’t remember it, you would never forgive yourself. Nor would Clint ever let you live that down.

But speaking of that, had you come to Clint in such a state as you were obviously in last night, there was no way he would let anything happen. You had to hold out hope that you had just made your way here drunk and Clint just allowed you to cuddle with him. It wasn’t like you had never shared a bed with him, but usually you were in more clothes.

You realized then that you were only in your underwear and what looked like his shirt, not helping clarify what had happened last night. You had also noticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt when you had quickly peaked over your shoulder.

You were trying to decide what to do, whether you should quietly slip out of his room and try and pretend like nothing had happened or if you should stay and talk to him to figure it out.

You didn’t get a chance to make a decision as you suddenly felt him stirring. A low groan escaped his lips as he slightly stretched beside you. “Good morning,” he quietly mumbled.

It wasn’t even a millisecond after that, that you were suddenly pushed out of the bed with a quick force as Clint let out a blood curdling scream. You weren’t sure what his reaction would be, but that had not occurred to you.

“Ow” You groaned as you sat up from your new position on the floor.

“What the fuck!” Clint exclaimed. “How- wait, y/n?”

You were left even more confused. Maybe he had decided to come out and you were both drunk.

“Yep, it’s me you just pushed out of your bed.” You sighed, “I was hoping you could explain what happened last night but that seems like it won’t be the case.”

There was an awkward pause, which you realized was because Clint was trying to read your lips. You sighed before quickly signing what you had just said so he didn’t have to try and guess. You added ‘I guess you must have decided to drink after all’ at the end.

“No.” Clint replied with a perplexed look on his face. He quickly turning to his nightstand to grab his hearing aids and put them in before continuing his thought. You finally forced yourself to move from your spot on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. You were still feeling shitty because of the hangover you had known you would be dealing with today.

“I didn’t drink anything last night besides coffee. I watched a few episodes of ______ before going to bed. Last I had heard from you, you had sent a rather incoherent text, something about shots and Natasha.” Clint explained his knowledge of the night.

“That’s where my memory gets hazy. I recall Nat ordering a few rounds of shots and that’s about the last thing I remember from last night. Then I woke up here, in your shirt apparently. I thought maybe- never mind, I wasn't sure what happened and then you threw me out of your bed which was only more confusing.” You explained your own account of the night.

“Wait you thought we-“ Clint looked at you with shock

“No, no, but also I couldn’t figure out why I was in your bed with nothing but your shirt on.” At that comment, Clint’s eyes drifted down to the shirt in questions. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on where the hem of the shirt was laying.

“You sound almost disappointed that we didn’t” Clint says with a cocky smile spreading across his face.

You rolled your eyes at him. “No I’d much rather remember that”

“Oh well if that’s your concern, no need to worry, if we had there would be no way you’d be forgetting it anytime soon.” His smile only grew at your admission. Truth be told, that second half had meant to stay in your head but apparently you still weren’t thinking clearly.

“Cocky much?” You chuckled at him. Moving to start picking up your clothes that you were finding thrown throughout the room.

“I am. I might make you forget your own name, but you wouldn’t be forgetting the experience.” He said in a low voice. You noticed he had stepped directly in front of you as you stood up from retrieving an article of your clothes from the floor.

You wanted to say something snarky in return but as you met Clint’s eyes, the words fell from your throat. You found your throat dry and yourself at a loss for words.

“Clint, I-“ You started but were quickly stopped as he took another step towards you. His gaze moved to your lips before he leaned in until his lips were ghosting over your own. He was giving you all the time in the world to pull away, to say that you didn’t want this but that was the last thing you planned to do.

You reached up, placing your hands of either side of his neck, before snaking them around his neck, interlacing your fingers through his hair and you closed the distance between you.

“What do you say we make what you thought happened last night a reality,” Clint suggested with a smile as you finally pulled away.

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” You smiled back “But I would really like a shower first”

Splashes of Bacardi dotted the blanket beneath you as you passed the bottle back and forth.

You pulled the undone tie from around Clint’s neck when he refused to pass the bottle back.

“’S not how sharing works.” You had meant to admonish, but it sounded like a pout.

A clumsy reach for the bottle had you sprawling across Clint’s lap. He laughed, openly, loudly, and leaned back on his hands to stare down at you. You pulled up and leaned your head into his chest, face first.

His shirt was open three buttons down, revealing warm skin and chest hair that smelled of teak wood, lavender and sweat. You could bury yourself in his scent for hours, his skin cool on your hot cheeks.

“You passing out on me, honey?” He teased, a hand reaching up to stroke your back. The air was too humid; your back, cooled by sweat, tingled at the warmth of his rough fingers.

You hummed drowsily, rubbing your nose up his chest, your lips ghosting flesh, before snatching the bottle and throwing your arms up in victory. He groaned and shook his head. You crowed and took a drink.

“You’re lucky Nat wasn’t here to see that, she’d be ashamed.” You chastised; lips still suctioned around the bottle opening.

Clint shrugged, his face creased in a smile.

“She knows a lost cause when she sees one.”

You giggled despite trying to sell a disbelieving eyeroll. He watched you, eyes roving across your body, glittering in the firelight.

His stare was too much. The wind playing with his hair and the opening of his shirt was too much.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, dropping the bottle from your lips.

His face contorted, all the easiness from before washing away to befuddlement.

“We’re married.”

Fingers twisted the cap back over the bottle and carelessly tossed it aside. A sound of protest barely left Clint’s lips before he was distracted by you moving to straddle his lap. The back of your thighs brushed the top of his pants, your hands circled his shoulders so that your fingers could play with the ends of his hair.

Clint lifted a hand to steady you, fingernails catching in the lace of your dress. His face tilted up to you, he stared in wonder.

“S’ not an answer.” You leaned your head down, burying your nose in his hair, lips hovering over his forehead.

His body tensed. He held you with both hands now.

“Yes, you can kiss me.” You pulled back to catch his gaze. His pupils dilated so that blue was just visible. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Forever?” Your mouth hovered over his, your eyes half lidded.

“And ever,” He leaned up to capture your lips, but you pulled back before he could. He blinked, instincts kicking in and anchoring you as you almost fell back off him entirely.

“Good.” You said with a wicked grin. “Just checking!”

Your phone ringed and you ran to your room, smiling when you see is Clint calling. You had been away from each other on missions for several days.

“Hey” A grin spreading all over your face and a sigh leaving your lips the moment you hear his voice.

“Hey, baby” You can hear the soft rustling of sheets when he moves around in bed “How are you?”

“Sad, bored, horny” You listed and smiled at the ceiling, Clint chuckled at the other end of the line “I miss you”

“I miss you too, baby” He moves again and you can tell he is restless “I’ve been distracted”

“Does that mean that Legolas missed a shot?” You giggle and he groans.

“Are you trying to get in trouble, baby?” He uses a fake stern tone.

“And if I say yes, Daddy?” You bite your lip because you know what that nick name does to Clint.

“I hope you’re ready to give Daddy a good show” You moan at his words and move around on your own bed “Are you, baby? Tell me what you’re wearing”

“A t-shirt I stole from you and those lace pink panties you like”

“And that’s all?” You hum in response and Clint groans again “Baby, are you going to be good for Daddy?”

You’re caressing your belly with the tips of the fingers of your free hand and goose bumps spread all over your skin when you hear his question “Y-yes”

“Yes what?” Clint asks and you giggle.

”Yes Daddy”

“Baby, tell me what you want me to do to you” You imagine he has his fist around his cock, stroking slowly and you mewl softly “Baby”

“Ugh… OK” You’re playing with the waist line of your panties as you start talking “I want you to come here and fuck me without even bothering in taking my clothes off” Your hand is finally inside your panties, caressing your outer lips and a soft moan leaves your lips, one finger slipping between your lips, finding yourself we and ready.

“Are you touching yourself, baby?” He asks, his voice sounding lower and bit strained “Are you going to make yourself come for me?”

“Yes, Daddy” Clint moans your name and you start circling your clit, thinking about how much you wish it was him doing it and not your own hand “Fuuuck… I miss you so much, Daddy!”

“I miss you too, love” He groans again, and a very vivid image of his hand around his cock floods your mind, spurring you on “All I can think about is how much I want to have my way with you. Make you scream my name so loud every one knows you’re mine”

By now you’ve put your phone on speaker and are using your two hands on yourself. Two of your fingers go in and out of you and with one of your other hand you’re circling your clit, moaning shamelessly and letting Clint hear the effect he has on you “I’m so close” The words come out as a moan and you hear Clint groan at the other side “Ple-ase... Daddy, tell me you’re close too” 

“Yes, baby girl... So close” In that moment you come, moaning Clint’s name and writhing on your bed, tears of pleasure slipping from your eyes, then you hear how he leaves out a string of courses mixed with your name and you know he’s coming too.

You lay there, panting for  few minutes, getting your breath back and waitiing for your brains to start working properly again.

“Baby, I love it when you call me daddy” Clint laughs and you join him.

“Yeah, I can tell” You sigh softly “I love you”

“Uh, yeah.” Clint nodded, gaining his footing. “Go ahead and nock another arrow.” You did as he had instructed, holding the bow tight in one hand and drawing back the string while keeping your elbow parallel to the ground. After taking aim a second time, you loosed the arrow, this time it drove straight through the center of the target.

“Did you see that?” You bellowed excitedly before pulling Clint into a bone crushing hug. (while taking great care not to actually crush his bones.) What neither of you knew was that you were being watched from a glass window in the hallway by your two brothers.

“[Y/N] and Barton seem rather chummy don’t you think, brother?” Loki asked, practically twirling his metaphorical villain mustache.

“Yes.” Thor agreed. “Do you think he knows about the time she crushed a man’s skull between her thighs?”

“Perhaps we should warn him.” Loki suggested.

“I agree. We will find him once they have finished with their lesson. For now, we must get to our meeting with the Man of Iron.” Thor continued walking down the hall, picturing you carrying Clint in your arms bridal style. The image was enough to make him smile.

You had made dinner plans with Clint later that night as a thank you for all the hard work he’d been putting into teaching you. So, imagine your surprise when you started looking around for your favorite archer, and he was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in his room or the training arena. He wasn’t in the kitchen. (Another one of Barton’s usual stomping grounds.) You were considering giving up your search when you bumped into Natasha. She told you she had just seen Clint in the common room with your two brothers.

You stomped into the common room not believing the sight before your eyes. Clint was sitting back in an armchair with his feet up on the coffee table, his hands behind his head. Thor and Loki were sitting on the couch across from him. The God of Thunder was leaning far forward in his seat, looking at Clint very seriously. Loki was lounging back in his seat, swirling a drink in his hand.

“What in the nine realms is going on here?!” Was all you could manage to snarl at your two brothers.

“Ah, Sister,” Thor looked over at you uncomfortably. “we were just…”

“Just making sure this Midgardian knows his place.” Loki interrupted lazily. 

“What are you talking about?” You scoffed. “Clint’s done nothing to either of you.”

“They think I have…what was it you said Thor? Impure intentions.” Clint explained. “Big brothers.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘What are you gonna do?’

“This is absurd! How long has this been going on? And you’ve just been sitting here?” You brought a hand to your forehead.

“Sister, there’s no reason to react so strongly.” Loki rolled his eyes as if he were bored by your dramatics.”We were merely sharing tales of your many adventures through the realms.” 

“You are always doing things like this. The pair of you!” You grabbed Clint’s forearm and pulled him to his feet. “I liked it better when you were waging wars over Jotunheim.” With that final statement, you pulled Clint out of the room.

“I must apologize for their behavior.” You said once the two of you were alone. “As I said they’ve always behaved in this way, a constant tug-of-war. They worry I don’t possess enough love to share it with more than the two of them. I will seek vengeance for you.” You released your hold on Clint’s arm and turned to re-enter the common room, but he stopped you.

“Hang on,” He called out with a smile. “They’re not so bad. I mean, I’m in one piece, right?” He gestured haphazardly at his unharmed body. “You should be glad, they’re interrogating me because they think I like you, that only means they love you.”

“That does not give them the right…”

“Do you want to take a walk?” He suggested. “The gardens outside, they’re beautiful and Stark’s had some lights put up out there, makes everything look real nice. It’s where I like to go when I need some space or a place to calm down. Come with me.” He offered out his hand.

“I’m afraid I’ve inconvenienced you enough today. Perhaps another time.” You said with a weak smile.