clint/darcy, forceful kiss
"You asshole," Darcy yelled, and Clint spun around. She wore a faded Greater Waverly Area Archery Club tee shirt that she'd stolen from him a few months back and a pair of sleep pants whose green plaid clashed horribly with the purple shirt. Her hair stuck up in multiple directions, and the skin under her eyes was dark with sleeplessness. "I swear to god, Clint Barton, if you ever scare me like that again," she continued, stalking down the hallway toward him, "I will dump you so fast your head will spin."
Clint let out a relieved sigh, and grinned at her. "I'm so sorry, babe, it wasn't my fault. Coulson--"
"Yeah, yeah, blame your handler," she spat, cutting him off as she stepped into his space. "I know you too well for that to work," she added, punching him in the arm. He winced; her training sessions with Natasha and Maria were definitely paying off.
Instead of saying anything, though, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight, dropping a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Darcy. I really am."
She squeezed him back. "Yeah, well, just…" Darcy trailed off and pulled back, hooking her arms around his neck to pull him down for a hard kiss. Clint went with it, humming in the back of his throat as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. "Don't do it again," she said finally, pressing her forehead to his.
For a second, Clint thought about making a joke, saying that with a welcome like that, how could he not, but instead he just nodded. "I love you, babe."