*Inspired by 'Tell Me You Love Me' by James Smith*
His head was pounding, sweat dripping down his chest and back. Clint kept rubbing his eyes & squinting but his vision was still fuzzy and unclear. His stomach rolling & churning. He couldn't shake it, couldn't ignore or wish it away, his body had succumbed to illness. Exhausted he just wanted to sleep but he trudged through the Compound by passing his room in favor of hers.
There was no knocking, no formalities. Clint entered her room with an air of belonging & shuffled pathetically across the room toward her bed flopping down face first. Half asleep and fully clothed, his body awkwardly angled taking up most of the bed like a scraggly starfish. It was still warm but she wasn't in it. Noise from the bathroom on the other side of the room. He let out a pitiful groan announcing his presence.
"Clint?" Her voice was like honey in a hot cup of tea making him shiver wanting it more than he could explain in words.
Inaudibly moaning, maybe he spoke some words or maybe he just thought them. Groaning at the sensation of her hand on his back, or maybe it was the fever and his brain playing tricks again. The whole flight back from the mission he could have sworn he heard her singing in the back of the Quinn.
"You're drenched... off!" She was about to yell about his sweat all over her clean bedding when he started coughing, attempting, and failing to stand up.
The cough was deep and haggard, a wet phlegmy sound. The cough shook his whole body and the bed. He'd always been stubborn that was the bulk of his witty personality but somehow the way he was moving or lack thereof was the most vulnerable she'd ever seen. Sighing when the back of her hand pressed against his forehead, skin still damp & cool from washing her hands.
"You're burning up."
Clint tried to stand again, his body swaying. The pictures hung on her walls & ceiling spinning round and round. She did the best she could sitting him up on the edge of her bed, and stripping off his sweat-drenched gear. His eyes barely open, his mouth moving as if he was speaking but nothing coming out besides the lopsided smirk. That kinda smirk he flashed when he was being flirty with her.
There wasn't much of a struggle tucking him beneath the blankets, head nestled on a plush pillow. No complaining from him as she got him to swallow some cold medicine or drink some water. Only a pouty frown when she tried to walk away. Clint had a weak hold on her wrist.
"Stay."
He was curled around her the moment she lay next to him beneath the covers. Arms around her, head on her chest. His mouth parted, nose too stuffed up to breathe right. Clint managed to mumble out a soft 'love you' before passing out completely. Running her fingers through his hair almost falling asleep herself when the vibration of her phone caught her attention.
"Sorry Nat, I uh have a slightly feverish assassin squishing hold of me right now."
"Mhm, figured he'd sleep it off alone like he usually does. Guess that means you guys are a serious deal if he's letting you see him like this." Natasha laughing on the other end of the line.
"I don't understand what this is," gesturing between herself and Clint despite Nat not being able to see it. "Sometimes we're friends, sometimes just coworkers, other times he can't keep his hands off me, and then the next I'm like a stranger to him."
"That's classic Barton though. He wants to be loved but his past constantly makes him believe he's not worth it. Have you guys even talked about what you are?" If Nat was asking it meant either he had talked with her about it or ignored the question anytime Nat asked him.
"I've tried, he just gets uncomfortable, cracks some jokes and casually changes the conversation. I mean... he says my name & I love you in his sleep but ... I don't know. How do you talk to someone constantly in fight or flight mode?"
"He loves you, just in his whole little Barton way." Nat snickered though annoyance was definitely in her tone.
"You think so?"
"If he didn't he wouldn't be in your room right now. Last time he was sick we had to get Cap to forcibly carry him down to medical. He must trust you because he doesn't like people to see that he's... human ya know? Good luck." Ending their call.
Running her fingers through his hair smiling at how peaceful he was. Millions of freckles sprinkled along his skin, just a hint of a sunburn. Chapped lips that twitched in his sleep as if he was on the verge of smiling or dreaming of something pleasant.
"I wish I knew what we were." Getting comfortable beside Clint and slowly falling asleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
She was awoken by the sounds of retching from her bathroom. Her hand reached out to find nothing beside her. It took her a moment to wake up and realize Clint wasn't there, jumping out of bed & rushing to the bathroom. Clint on his knees hunched over in front of the toilet throwing up.
Kneeling beside him rubbing his back, his whole body drenched in sweat & burning hot. Her eyes wandered toward all the silvery scars that littered his back. Clint seemed to be covered in them from head to toe. Some were deep and jagged like they healed improperly, but most were years old from a childhood he'd never wish upon another soul.
She knew he couldn't remember where most of the scars came from but the oldest of them he could never forget. A terrible childhood with an alcoholic abusive father, years as a runaway in the circus, and betrayal from his brother. He'd told her of them late one night as they laid out on the rooftop unable to sleep staring up at the stars. The kind of conversation that happened because of comfort & exhaustion. So tired that walls crumble and secrets come out.
That night though, Clint seemed as if a weight had finally been lifted from finally speaking aloud the horrors of his early life. He could talk about those traumas but yet defining what they were or even calling her his girlfriend was too complicated.
"I'm sorry," he groaned weakly attempting to stand. His body wavered, almost falling if it hadn't been for her nudging him to lean against the bathroom counter.
"You're sick, nothing to be sorry about." Wiping his face with a wet cloth, but even sick that man somehow managed to look like a Greek God.
His skin was slick and clammy, dark circles under his eyes but they stayed laser-focused on her. She was the only thing in his vision that wasn't blurry or spinning like a kaleidoscope.
"You know what I mean sweetheart." Regret flooded his eyes.
"Come lay back down, you're feverish."
"You're not my girlfriend." Clint laid an unsteady hand on her cheek.
Gutted, absolutely gutted. The air sucked from her lungs, her failed attempt to keep him from seeing the disappointment on her face.
"Before you get all in your head let me finish." A meek smile flashed over his lips. "I'm not... the best at this kinda thing, never had a good example of what this sort of thing was supposed to be or look like but you ... us ... you're it. The only, the last, the forever, so I can't call you my girlfriend when you're more than that."
Closing her eyes leaning into him. The feeling of his arms wrapping around her, the soft kiss on her temple. They both breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it was better that way, his little ramble letting it all out. Telling her the words that weighed on him for ages, but they always sounded wrong in his head. Like they weren't the right words to use but he meant them never-the-less.
"Back to bed," ruffling his hair feeling as if she could have taken on the world at that moment. "You need to rest."
"See!" Smirking as she tugged him back towards her bed. "This is why I love you, you know the way to my heart."
Summary: Five years after losing Clint and your kids to the snap, you’ve become a vigilante, travelling the world and killing those who didn’t deserve to survive in the new world. When Natasha shows up with an opportunity you never thought you’d have, it’s your choice to follow her or stay in your rogue ways.
Pairing: Clint Barton x Ronin!Reader;
+Characters: Natasha Romanoff. More to be added.
Warning: Angst, big depictions of violence. Spoilers for Endgame.
Notes: A bit of editing to the canon just so everything will fit what I want it to fit. I changed the names of Clint’s kids: Lila is called Natasha – Nattie – because of obvious reasons, Cooper is still Cooper and Nathaniel Pietro became Pietro Nathaniel. The Avengers were all aware that Clint and Reader had a family.
