Clint/Morph
Whoever his soulmate was, Clint was grateful that particular case of verbal diarrhea appeared on his back and not his arms, or chest, or any of the other areas that he regularly bared for his role in the circus and SHIELD. The rather long passage was the source of many childhood hours spent twisting in front of the mirror, trying to read what the scrawling text said. Big black letters, ones in a messy handwriting that made even Clint feel proud of his chicken scratch, because it was better than his soulmate's, that covered practically all of his back.
When he mentioned to Tony (while drunk; that part is important, because he wouldn't have shared the details otherwise), the billionaire asked if he'd met Deadpool yet, and to prepare himself for the headache of a lifetime for when he did.
Except for then Clint did meet Deadpool, and though the exchange of words was as long and rambling as the words on his back, they weren't the same words. Nope, Deadpool had, "tell Stark he's fucking wrong again," yelled at him as he cartwheeled across the battlefield, and Clint was left wondering that if the Merc with a Mouth wasn't his soulmate, then it would be heart attack inducing to meet the sort of weirdness that Fate had paired him up with.
It wasn't like he spent a lot of time thinking about it. No, Clint refused to be one of those people who spent all day wondering if they spoke first, what they said, how they met, if the words were both memorable, or if their partner had gotten stuck with something like, "hi," for their mark, and that's what made them go all crazy in their response. Though to be fair, Clint was fairly certain that someone who talked that much when meeting somebody new wasn't just going to be doing it for the sake of making it unique. He just got that... Feeling.
So since he didn't spend all that time thinking about his mark, he certainly wasn't thinking about it when Tony came running into the Tower's lounge shouting about portals opening over New Jersey. Absolutely and completely not. He was most certainly thinking about how this situation could lead to any number of things, but not mister word crazy.
Course, it's that moment standing with his bow pointed at the group of strangers that appeared on top of one of the buildings that he hears someone who can run their mouth enough to give Deadpool a shot at losing his title.
"Hey Clarice, I think that's the Avengers coming at us. At least they're the Avengers in my world. Wonder if I look like Baron Zemo if they'll trust us." And then the man who'd started out with the bald, white face and weird purple jumpsuit was suddenly much taller, and with his face hidden behind a mask that looked exactly like the one Zemo wore all the time. He waved up both hands up in the air, jumping a little while the girl beside him groaned and put her head in her hands. "Hey Mister Avengers, we're friends! Like really! Not here to take over the world at all, I promise."
Clint struggled not to laugh as Tony landed in front of the group.
Watching them interact, the girl (undoubtedly a mutant with that shade of skin) seemingly talking for the group in a quieter voice than gets picked up by the coms, waves her hands at the group, and Clint can hear Tony asking them if they intentionally came through the portal or if they'll need help going back to their own world. And the girl falls still while the giant of a man behind come puts his hands on her shoulders and says something to Tony that makes the man pause, and Steve lower his shield, and Nat to shift where she waits behind the two of them.
"Why are you here," Bruce asks, and Clint hears that loud voice again, only this time the man's shifted into a weird copy of the girl, with her pink skin and hair but a ridiculous green ball gown on instead.
"Cause Clarice here needed a break, and that meant finding a world that didn't need saving, and do you have any idea how hard that is these days? I mean really, Heather was yelling at the Crystal Palace for a good twenty minutes before we finally got here. And man, is it disappointing to be met by you guys instead of like, the Iron Man dancers. You still have those girls? Boobies, man, boobies. Really would like to meet some of them."
And Tony, the jerk, throws his head back laughing and says, through the breathless giggles, "Clint, I think you better get down here now."
Clint swears, but comes down anyways, using one of the arrows that Tony hasn't gotten his hands on yet to drop a line between the roofs and drops onto the concrete floor of the opposite one in a roll, coming up with his feet beneath him and his hands around his bow. There's a sinking feeling in his stomach as he faces the still ball gown clad (what he assumes to be) shapeshifter.
"Well aren't you a set of arms for sore eyes. I mean, really, hope those just aren't for show because damn, do I want to climb you like a tree and swing like a monkey. Got any lube arrows? Lube arrows would be cool."
Clint swears, viciously, and then drops one hand from his bow to hold it out to the shapeshifter. "I sure am glad it's you saying that, and not Deadpool. He gives me nightmares."
"Shit."
There's a least four people saying that, three of whom he doesn't know, and one that's either Bruce or Steve, Clint doesn't hear well enough to tell, possibly both of them. Money's on both of them. Shapeshifter sputters, then grabs Clint's hand and starts pumping it up and down rapidly, grinning all the while. "Name's Morph, pleasure to meet you. This here's my team, but they can all bugger off and find their own soulmates, cause you're all mine sweetcheeks, and I am really not letting you go anytime soon. How do you feel about a honeymoon in Cuba? No, not Cuba, that'd be weird after the last world. France? We haven't done anything to France yet. I like France."
Clint points his free hand at Tony.
"If you say one word to Wilson, I will shoot you."
"Not my lube arrows!"