Mr and Mrs Jones: Epilogue (Clint x Reader)
Summary: One year on, Clint and the reader are happily enjoying their lives together.
Note: Happy ending! I told you it would be okay in the end. Serious moment, though. I just want to thank everyone who has stuck with this story, it’s been a long year and without your comments and support I would probably never have finished this. So thank you.
This is also a fill for @clintbartonbingo square: Lucky.
My masterlist is in my bio and I’m on AO3 under the same URL.
“Clint, dinner is on the table. Get your ass in here before it goes cold.”
Two seconds later, Clint slid into the kitchen looking like a Bear Grylls wannabe. His jeans were coated in a thick layer of mud. Leaves, green with the slightest hint of red on the edges as autumn drew nearer, were sticking out his hair and twigs fell from the pockets of his jacket - which now seemed to have even more tears than it had before he’d left this afternoon.
You held your hand up to stop him traipsing mud over your clean kitchen, instead crossing the room yourself to help separate him from the forest he’d brought inside. Plucking a leaf from behind his ear, you raised an eyebrow and said, “I thought you were out shooting, not playing Robin Hood, running through the trees like a hooligan.”
“I was. Then a dog stole my favourite arrow so I chased him through the woods into his lair.”
Struggling to keep a straight face, you unzipped his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. “Dogs don’t have lairs, honey.”
“Evil dogs have lairs. This one did, too.”
“You brought an evil dog into our home?”
“No, he’s a sweetheart really. Anyway, back to the story. I fought him for the prize - my arrow, come on, sugar, keep up - and valiantly lost. So, I took his bone and he followed me home, arrow in mouth in the way back.”
“What I’m hearing is that you adopted another dog.”
He crouched down and rubbed the golden retriever behind the ears until it finally let the arrow drop from his tightly shut jaw. Clint stretched out his arm to hand you the slobbery arrow but changed his mind when you threatened him with a glare that said all too clearly, if you come near me with that thing then you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.
Wiping it dry on his filthy trousers, he dropped it into the quiver by the door and smiled sweetly at you. “I think he adopted me actually.”
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