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@devilhawk-love
Hello everyone!
First of all I would like to thank you all for you support in keeping this rarepair alive. It really means a lot to me, that you are supporting and want to see more of this ship.
My goal is to this ship have succeed across fanfiction and the best way to do that is by giving what the readers want.
That said this is a post where you can send in any requests you may have. Any scenarios I have yet to think of or any theme I have not picked up on.
​Attending a high-society gala sober was not happening, but coming home blitzed on champagne was the most normal thing for Clint and Matt to do. Given their collective track record, nobody in their inner circle was surprised when Clint and Matt were dragged into the back of an unmarked van three blocks from the venue.
​When they woke up locked in a holding cell, neither of them made a move to escape. The room was a bit drafty, but outside, New York was getting loud and boring and neither felt particularly inclined to go back to work. Back home, their friends and team weren't even looking for them, they knew who Clint and Matt were, knew they were fine, and were simply running a pool on how long the two would drag out their absence.
​For an abduction, the perks were surprisingly solid. The kidnappers were first, timers, so they were far out of their depth. Terrified of underfeeding their high-profile hostages, they ended up sending down three home, cooked meals a day. Clint spent his afternoons lounging on the floor, critiquing the cover stories and spending quality time, while Matt enjoyed the silence.
​The only real flaw in their makeshift holiday was the furniture. There was a terrible cheap couch with a broken nightstand and a bed with rusty springs. After spending one miserable night listening to rust flakes grind inside the mattress, Matt reached his limit. On night two, he climbed onto Clint and sprawled out directly on top of him. Clint just shifted his arms to pin Matt in place, draped his jacket over them, and went right back to sleep.
​They stretched the "hostage situation" out for eight full days, catching up on sleep while their captors slowly spiraled over why no one was responding to their ransom calls. Only when it was date night did they escape and enjoy a nice romantic dinner.
People tend to forget that Clint grew up in the circus, which gave him insane balance and a set of bizarrely useful tricks.
​If a plate slips off the kitchen counter, Clint snatches it before it even clears the edge of the table—not dramatically, but like it's a mundane thing to do, which for him, it is.
​Even when he trips, slips, or gets tossed off-balance, Clint physically cannot fall badly. His body tucks, rolls, and lands properly without a single wasted movement, because when you grow up walking tightropes or riding unicycles, learning how to fall safely is the very first lesson you learn.
Clint being sick is Matt's worst nightmare, but not because he's actually worried. I mean Clint has survived alien and robotic apocalypses as well as end-of-the-world fights. The truth is, Clint Barton is the worst patient in human history.
​First off, Clint refuses to even acknowledge he's sick, forcing Matt to physically drag him into bed. The second Matt turns his back, Clint sneaks out to try and go about his day normally, only to make his fever twice as bad.
​By the time Clint actually reaches the point where he can't move, he turns into a drama queen. He lies under the blankets whining to Matt nonstop, sighing with every breath and acting like he's on his deathbed.
Matt refuses to wear suits outside of work. He spends enough time in formal wear for clients and courtrooms, so the second he steps out of the office, the tie comes off. Clint, on the other hand, loves men in suits and never stops whining about Matt’s decision to dress down off the clock.
​Fed up, Clint takes matters into his own hands and secretly books an official consultation under an alias.
​On Thursday morning, Matt steps into the room expecting a client named "John." At first, hearing Clint's heartbeat and scent in the office makes Matt think something has gone wrong. But then Clint introduces himself as "John," and Matt instantly realizes what happened.
Clint loves Matt more than anything. So much so that he learned Braille for him. Today, he knows Braille like the back of his hand, reading and writing it with complete ease. But back when he first started learning, it didn't go so smoothly.
​Around the six-month mark of their relationship, Clint took the initiative to secretly learn Braille to surprise Matt. The only problem was Clint’s calloused fingers. Years of pulling bowstrings meant he couldn't properly feel the raised dots under his skin, leading to an endless series of mistranslations on the love notes he left around the apartment.
The best thing about Clint and Matt is that their relationship exists across identities. They get quiet coffee dates and lazy mornings as Clint Barton and Matt Murdock. Meanwhile, they also get patrol dates and rooftop make-out sessions as Hawkeye and Daredevil.
​The people of New York are obsessed with them. The city is covered in Daredevil and Hawkeye graffiti, fans wear T-shirts with hearts drawn around their suits, and the internet goes feral every single time they're spotted fighting side-by-side.
​The public speculation gets so wild that Tony eventually builds them an untraceable social media account so they can officially settle the debate. When they finally post a photo confirming they aren't just together, they're married, every news outlet loses its mind.
​Clint is not what anyone would call a peaceful sleeper. As quiet and stealthy as he is on a mission, the second his eyes close, all discipline vanishes. Sheets end up on the floor, pillows cease to exist and anyone sharing a bed with him gets kicked off the mattress.
​There is only one exception to the rule: Matt.
​When Clint sleeps next to Matt, it’s as if he turns to stone. He doesn't toss, he doesn't kick, and he doesn't shift a single millimeter. Deep down, Clint’s instincts seem to know that Matt needs quiet, so he stays completely frozen, giving them both a night of peace.
​Being total disasters, Clint and Matt have perfected the art of going with the flow and making the best of every mess.
​When an elevator stalls, they don't panic or complain, they just lean against each other and take a power nap. When something breaks around the apartment, Clint pulls out his tools to fix it while they spend the entire time gossiping. When their wedding cake fell, they skipped the drama and just ate the parts that hadn't hit the floor. And when their hotel room is overbooked, they turn it into a camping trip.
​At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how badly a plan falls apart. As long as they're together, they’ll enjoy the chaos.
​The team has accepted that playing poker with Clint and Matt is a losing game. Clint whispers his hand in a breathy hush that only Matt’s hearing can catch, letting Matt know every single card they have without anyone noticing.
​From there, Matt calls all the shots. He has memorized everyone's heartbeat when they bluff, or when they hold good or bad cards, meaning the two of them literally cannot lose.
​Unsurprisingly, Clint and Matt end up taking everyone’s money. It got so bad that Tony eventually had to bankroll the rest of the team just to keep game night running because everyone else was broke.
​The duo even used their winnings for a down payment on a house. At this point, Tony hands out a $100 bill to each team member every month just to keep poker night alive. Clint and Matt end up walking away with a clean $600 bonus every single month, enough to keep the firm afloat and help with expenses. Deep down, they both suspect Tony knows exactly what he is doing, but since he's the only one who never actually plays, they have no evidence of it.
​Given their ridiculous amount of muscle mass, both Clint and Matt naturally radiate heat like human furnaces. But thanks to Matt’s hyper-senses, his internal thermostat is very sensitive, if the room drops below his comfort zone, he feels it everywhere.
​His solution is simple: Clint.
​Whenever Matt gets chilly, he unceremoniously uses his boyfriend as a personal heating pad. Out in public, he is subtle: lacing their fingers together to warm his hands or standing pressed against Clint's side. At home, subtle tactics disappear. Matt will casually wrap himself around Clint from behind, leaning into his back and dropping light kisses against his neck while stealing every bit of warmth he can get.
​Clint and Matt are polar opposites, and anyone who has known them for more than five minutes can tell. It shows in every single aspect of their lives: their appearances, their personalities, and especially their daily routines.
​Take their mornings, for example. Matt is a morning bird. He wakes up at any hour completely refreshed, bright-eyed, and happy to start the day.
​Clint, on the other hand, would be content sleeping until noon. When he finally drags himself out of bed, he refuses to acknowledge a single soul, with the sole exception of his boyfriend—and even then, that is considered a miracle.
​It was supposed to be a lazy, rainy afternoon on the couch for Clint and Matt. The peace died the second they started bickering over who got the better side of the blanket.
​"Give it back."
​"No, you give it back."
​That exact exchange was repeated thirteen times in the span of ten minutes. By the end of the tug-of-war, the blanket had fallen to the floor. Neither got to use it, leaving both of them shivering in silence out of pure, stubborn spite, though they did end up cuddling instead.
Matt has an obsession with Clint. He memorizes every detail about Clint using his heightened senses. He memorizes the rhythm of his heartbeat, the pace of his breathing, every scar on his body. Matt even pays attention to how Clint favors his right leg because of a surgery. Clint doesn't realize the extent of his knowledge until he is kidnapped, but Matt uses that knowledge and information to track him down. As for the people responsible, the er was very busy that day.
​When Clint finally pieced together the extent of Matt's obsession after being rescued, he was shocked. But it wasn't necessarily a bad shock; it was a realization. It was like he opened his eyes. When the shock passed, Clint felt weirdly understood.
​Neither Clint nor Matt is above wearing fan merchandise of themselves in public. Honestly, half the fun is people-watching, seeing reactions, noticing who scowls, and seeing who does a double-take.
​Most of the time, it leads to surprisingly great interactions. Beyond the usual "Where did you get that shirt?", they get praised for supporting NYC's defenders and occasionally end up in debates about hero ethics. People love expressing their opinions, especially to people who won't judge them.
​What they never anticipated, however, was sitting down at a diner in matching Daredevil and Hawkeye shirts, only for a passionate waiter to take their order and immediately launch into a ten-minute lecture on why Daredevil is superior to Hawkeye in every single way. It took everything in them not to burst out laughing.
​After an exhausting mission, Clint and Matt spot a stray cat under a rooftop AC unit. Clint falls in love the second he sees it, but Matt puts his foot down: under no circumstances are they keeping it.
​When Clint brings it back to the apartment anyway, Matt sets a one-week deadline to find it a family or release it. By day seven, Matt has softened just enough to grant a seven-day extension, trying desperately to hold his ground and reminding Clint that they already have Lucky, a dog, and cannot reasonably add a cat.
​Matt's resolve slowly breaks down over the week, but the final blow comes one night: Matt hears Clint in the living room, using a soft, baby-talk voice with the cat. Listening to Clint coo over it, Matt knows he’s lost the battle, and he can't bring himself to force Clint to give it to someone else.
Clint and Matt communicate in unique ways. Everyone knows that, but few understand the insane variety they’ve developed.
​Clint, for instance, uses an ultra-high-frequency whistle that is inaudible to normal human ears, though every dog in a five-mile radius would disagree. Using it, he can send Matt Morse-coded messages.
​Matt, on the other hand, uses Clint’s Bluetooth-enabled hearing aids. Using a collar mic that picks up low sounds, Matt can speak in a sub-vocal murmur, too quiet for any bystander to hear, that pipes directly into Clint’s ears, giving Clint updates while Matt looks like he's just standing silently in the shadows.