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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 5 years

Text

Down 7th Street

Clint Barton x Reader

A/N: commission for my love @girl-next-door-writes

Summary: It’s obvious to everyone but you how Clint feels.

Clint was staring; he was trying hard not to but the sound of your tongue clicking every time you started to speak kept distracting him from his morning coffee. He sat quietly at the kitchen island, while you chatted away with Steve about something he could not make out. Clint left his hearing aids in his room and he was regretting it now because he desperately wanted to know what Steve and you were talking about. He wasn’t jealous, just a little, but everyone knew the two of you had this platonic friendship; Steve and you were constantly at each other’s sides and that made it difficult for Clint to get any alone time with you.

“Clint?” His eyes jerked away from his cup of coffee to see you standing near the kitchen island, a soft smile on your face. “You don’t have your aids on, do you?”

He shook his head and smiled. “I needed coffee more than hearing when I got up this morning.”

Steve laughed and said he was going to hit the gym, asking if you wanted to come along. You said yeah, but you wanted to eat first. “Alright, see you in a bit.” Steve pointed a finger at Clint and grinned. “Barton, get those hearing aids on.”

You watched as Steve left the kitchen and turned to Clint, watching as he took a long sip of brew. “Do you want to go out to the bar tonight?’

“Depends on what bar – Kenny’s tap is crap and the dive near the pizzeria is overrun by hipsters who have beards down to their ankles.”

“You are so grumpy,” you laughed, pushing away from the counter. “We’re all going to Pete’s on 7th.”

“We?” Clint tried to hide the disappointment in tone, because like an idiot, he thought you meant just the two of you. He thought it was so obvious, how much he liked you – every chance he had, he would try to spend time with you. He loved making you laugh but his favorite past time with you was watching Netflix in the living room while everyone slept. Each of you would pick a movie to watch late into the night and eventually you would fall asleep, head on his shoulder. He never moved, even when you started to snore – it felt nice and usually he would wait until the movie was over before laying you down on the couch and covering you up with a throw blanket before he left to his room. In the morning, you would look so cute with bed head and sleepy eyes, asking for a cup of coffee – which he had ready every time.

“Yeah, Rogers, Romanoff, the whole gang. So, you in or what, Grumpy Pants?’

Clint smiled then and said yeah, that he’d be ready at seven. You grinned and reached over to playful smack the side of his face. He laughed and pushed your hand away, telling you to go and work out with Steve.

“Fine, I know when I’m not wanted,” you teased, giving him a wink as you moved away from him. You started to walk out the door, but he said your name with a sigh. Turning, you smiled sweetly at the man, hand on your hip. “What was that?”

“I said you want some bacon and eggs?’

You loved Clint’s cooking; it was downright sinful – that man knew his way around a kitchen, and he was always making you food without being asked. There were times when you would find a great book and spend hours in your quarters reading, living off tortilla chips until Clint would knock on your door.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“I’m not dead, I’m just lost in fiction.”

Clint smiled at the way you barely glanced up from the book, just enough to see the tray of food he had brought. It was enough for you to put down the book, asking him what he had.

“I know I’m deaf, but I didn’t know you were blind,” he teased, moving over to the bed. He asked if he could sit and you nodded, smiling when he placed the tray down – it was all finger foods you could eat while reading. “Figured you could use actual food; Natasha said all the smut you’re reading might make you hungry.”

“I hate her,” you grumbled, reaching for a baby carrot. “I’m not reading smut; I’m reading Little Women.”

“Never read it.”

“I’ve read it a dozen times; I can start over and you can listen?” Clint’s eyes widen for a moment, until you leaned back into the headboard and held up the book. “Or do you have something better to do?”

He pretended to think about it and shrugged. “Sure.”

You waited for him to get comfortable next to you, his shoulder against yours and the tray of food on his lap. He passed you another carrot and you grinned, clearing your throat as you started the book all over.

“Make it French toast and you can enjoy my company.”

Clint rolled his eyes but got up from his chair. “Fine, you little brat.”

….

Clint sat next to Natasha, watching as you played pool with Steve and Sam. His eyes fixated on the corner of your mouth, the way it lifted every time you laughed. He smiled down at his lap, unable to contain the joy he felt from seeing you enjoying yourself.

“You should just tell her; you are obviously in love with her.”

“If I tell her how I feel, I lose her as a friend and that’s just not worth it.”

“Come one, Barton,” she chuckled, scooting closer to him. “I know how you feel about her, I see it every time you look at her.

His eyes wandered back to you, Steve was twirling you around to the music and pissing Sam off because the two of you kept bumping into him as he attempted to take his turn at the pool table. Clint sighed and glanced over to his best friend, her eyebrow up in amusement.

“What else can I do? I’ve tried everything in my power to show her how I feel, but it’s obvious she doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Maybe she’s just not seeing it, you have to be upfront.”

Clint snorted and took a drink, eyes glued to your back as Steve and you left the pool table and walked toward the back bar. He followed the pair of you for a few seconds before sighing and tipping his head back, eyes squinting at the lights above. The bar was too nosey or maybe he just wanted to hear nothing but his thoughts, either way, he reached a hand up and turned off his hearing aid.

He had been as upfront as he could, maybe you just weren’t into him – maybe the two of you were better off as friends, at least then he could still be in your life.

…

The bar was roaring with voices and music, Steve had his arm slung around your shoulder as the two of you walked over to the bar to order a round of beer. You were already a bit buzzed from the shots you had taken with Natasha and Sam, and Steve being all huffy puffy when someone bumped into you made you laugh.

“Relax, Captain America. I don’t want to have to defend you in another bar fight,” you said.

“That was a misunderstanding,” he laughed, slipping his arm off you. He asked the bartender for two more pitchers of beer and nudge you with an elbow. “So, when are we going to talk the bedroom eyes Barton’s been giving you all night.”

You snorted and gave Steve a confused look. “I thought you couldn’t get drunk?”

Steve smirked, pulling out a few bills when the bartender placed the pitchers on the counter. “Thanks, man,” he said, turning to you. He passed one pitcher to you and shrugged. “Come on, everyone knows Barton has a thing for you, why do you think he follows you around like a puppy?’

“HE DOES NOT.”

“You know, I thought you were smarter than that,” Steve said, motioning for you to follow him back to the table. “Maybe you should get your eyes checked.”

“Maybe you should stop being rude to your best friend,” you snapped back playfully. Steve stopped walking and grabbed you by the elbow, pulling you off to the side. He told you to open your eyes and see what’s been right in front of you for years. “And what is that, Steve?”

“All these years, Clint’s been the one that’s always there for you. Remember when you got drunk at Tony’s birthday party?”

“Yeah, I threw up on the side of the yacht.”

Steve chuckled. “Clint was the one that took care of you for the rest of the night, he cleaned you up and sat with you while the rest of us enjoyed the party. Or that time your grandma got sick and he flew back home with you, stayed with you the entire two weeks.”

“My family loved him…”

You remembered those two weeks, it was awful – in and out of the hospital for days, until your grandma had passed.

Clint never left your side, especially that night; he held you as you sobbed into his jacket and took you back to your childhood home. Your parents had set the two of you up in your old room, even when you insisted the two of you weren’t dating. Clint had offered to the floor, but you said it was silly and you shared the bed. That night, after he had brought you home from the hospital, he took off your shoes and coat, got you into bed. He was going to go downstairs to make you some coffee, but you called out to him.

“Don’t leave me, Clint.”

It broke his heart that night, hearing the sorrow in your voice, so he closed the bedroom door and got into bed with you. He waited for you to say something but all you did was scoot closer to him, your back into his chest and he held you through the tears until you pass out.

It wasn’t just that time, there were countless times Clint had been there for you, even the late-night movie sessions that ended with you waking up the next morning alone and feeling disappointed for some reason. Now, as Steve went on about Clint and you, it hit you like a tequila shot.

“Oh, shit,” you yelled over the sound of the music and voices, and Steve raised an eyebrow at the outburst. It all made sense now, the trembling in the pit of your stomach whenever Clint was around. You never thought much of it, because Clint was your friend and had been for so long, but now, now it all started to click. Sure, you had dated here and there, but nothing ever lasted. You always found something wrong with the person, ending things quickly and going home to binge watch movies with Clint – it was always him.

“Realization is a real son of a bitch, isn’t it?”

You looked at Steve and smiled. “Only if what you’re realizing is bad, but I just got my head out of my ass, and I feel like I’m breathing for the first time.”

“Thanks for the image,” Steve muttered. “Come on, let’s go delivery these beers.”

Feeling a wave of nervousness as the two of you walked through the crowd back to the table, but your heart dropped when you saw that Clint wasn’t around. Natasha and Sam were sitting at the table talking, and when you asked where Clint went, Nat sighed.

“Wasn’t feeling so hot, he said he’d walk home.” She must have noticed the way your face dropped because she said he had just left. “You probably could catch up to him.”

You glanced over to Steve, who nodded with a smile. “Go on, we’ll still be here.”

Handing over the pitcher to Sam, you winked at your best friend and took off through the bar. You exited out to the street, it was busy with people flowing in and out of the bar, but you knew the way back to the Tower. Taking a left, you hurried down the pavement and ran down the street, hoping to spot Clint. When you got to the corner, you saw a figure crossing the street – he was wearing a leather jacket and just by the way he was walking, you knew it was Clint. You called to him, looking both ways before chasing after him.

“Clint!”

He didn’t even flinch and the thought that he was ignoring you crossed your mind, and it made you want to go back to the bar but there was no turning back now – you weren’t a quitter. So you ran faster and when you were close enough, you grabbed him by the shoulder. He whirled around quickly, eyes wide in surprise as you laughed and said something.

“WHAT?”

Taking a breath, you laughed and stepped up to the mind, reaching a hand to his ear. He stood still as you turned on his aides and grinned. “I’ve been chasing you down 7th, Barton.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, asking what you were doing.

“I don’t know, I mean…” you fumbled around with your words, until you took a deep breath and calmed the nerves rattling in your stomach. “Listen, I don’t know how much what Steve said was true, maybe it was obvious to everyone but me – I just think subconsciously I didn’t want to mess up our friendship, because you’re such a great friend, Clint – “

“- I get it,” he interrupted, lips pursed into a small smile. “We’re friends, we’re really good friends.”

‘I don’t wanna be friends,” you blurted out, laughing when his face fell. “I mean, I don’t want to be just friends. I – I mean, the thought of kissing you doesn’t gross me out.”

Clint laughed than, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you. “So, I don’t gross you out, that’s great.”

“It is,” you assured him, lifting your hands to his face. “It’s really great.”

His eyes, warm and inviting, stared in yours – a wave of relief flushed over your body and when his head moved closer to yours, your eyes closed. His lips were warm against yours, like his body that night he held you tight and he let you cry until there was nothing left in your eyes. Clint had been such an important person in your life, that you hadn’t realized you were longing for him as much as he was for you. All that time wasted, but it didn’t matter now.

Because everything was going to be great.

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #deaf!clint barton #marvel imagine

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