I don't even know why I blurted it out during the mission in the first place. One second I was beside him taking out targets with my crossbow, Clint and his trusty bow and it just came out. I'd never seen him like that before. He stood still as stone, bow shaking in his hand. All color had drained from his face. Those stormy blue eyes scrunched in terror scanning over me wildly. Why didn't I say anything before we left? Or saved it for the flight home? No, my mind just had to get it out there as fast as the thought appeared.
I watched him from his doorway, the expressionless features on his face. HGTV playing a marathon of Fixer Upper. It wasn't one of his favorites, but he still found it interesting. Gave him ideas for his farmhouse, the one he'd kept hidden from everyone but Nat and I. He'd see a host on a reno show blowing all sorts of money on some piece of furniture and Clint would go off on how he could make it himself with nothing more than a couple of 2x4's, nails, his trusty circular saw and hammer. He was a boastful little shit sometimes, but he was talented.
The Farmhouse was his retirement, his refuge. The place he always went to when he needed to getaway. After the Battle of New York and watching Thor disappear with Loki, that's where Clint took me. Tired and worn and in need of peace we took off in his truck. It wasn't something expected considering how new our relationship still was. The drive across the states was silent still mourning the loss of Coulson. That affected us both more than we wanted anyone to know. Coulson was more than a boss, more than our handler, he was like a father to each of us.
Hardly a word utter aloud in that drive, but what spoke volumes was the inability to let our hands go. He reached across the seat grasping my hand in his, fingers laced inside of mine. Clint held on like it was the only thing keeping him in the here and now. Like it was the Guardian keeping the darkness away. Sweaty and numb, little electric jolts of energy buzzed through our hands from holding them so tightly and in the same spot for ages, but neither let go. That was just the way we were, a mingling of light and dark keeping each other above water. Keeping each other from drowning in the past and the sorrow.
This first night there we'd sat out on the porch watching the sun setting in the distance. The old porch swing creaking beneath our weight as we swung in silence. Bare minimal supplies inside but plenty of booze. Clint wasn't one to drowned himself in alcohol mainly because of his father. The same beer he'd opened an hour ago still clutched between his fingers. We'd only been dating a few months, but I'd thought we'd spent enough time together to know him. He needed a laugh, a laugh would pave the way allowing him to feel everything else.
I reached across the swing and held his hand in mine, resting them atop his thigh. He'd had so much pain and loss in his life it seemed so unfair to me. Nat had felt that all that loss made him into who he was. The strong silent type who cared too deeply for those he allowed in his inner circle. I could feel the tension he'd been holding onto since New York slowly fading away in the warmth of my touch. He squeezed my fingers, his way of saying he appreciated my presence.
"If you work on a farm and your job is to take care of the chickens, does that make you a chicken tender?" It was the stupidest most asinine thing I could think of to make him laugh.
The laugh started as a huff of air pushed out of his lips. His eyes closed and his head dipped forward. Clint's shoulders shook, the rumbling low laugh bubbling up in his chest and flew out of his mouth. The laughter was deep and hearty, the sound carrying off the porch and down into the grass. That sweet sound filled the fields and the buildings on the farm. He laughed so hard he slipped off the swing landing on his rump with a heavy thud on the ancient decking.
But all good things come to end. The tears of hilarity from my stupid joke turned sour. His shoulders dipped, legs splayed out trembling. His fists pounded against the wooden decking. Clint was hurting and he hated letting it out. He hated how much he let things affect him. He crumbled into a mess, the bellowing cries he allowed to escape. Distraught and filled with misery at the loss of Phil.
I curled myself in his lap and held him close. Arms encasing him in comfort and safety. My tears falling, allowing myself to grieve with him. He let his head fall against my chest as his body shook against mine. I let my fingers ruffle through his hair.
"It's all my fault if I'd..." he grumbled in my chest.
"Don't, it's not your fault," I kissed the top of his head, struggling to find something to say to a man who'd lived his life believing all the bad was because of him.
"If I hadn't..." he trailed off in a broken sob. There was no fight in him, no pulling away when I held his face in my hands.
"You are NOT to blame for anything, you hear me." Tears sliding down my face seeing all the brokenness he'd tried to keep hidden deep inside. He only looked at me and closed his eyes letting himself get lost in the 'the orbit of warmth' as he called my hugs.
"I'm sorry Y/n, but I'm broken. I don't know if I can ever be normal," he sighed.
"My broken and your broken together make a whole, it's why I love you," I whispered.
It seemed like a millennia ago since that time on the farm. Clint Barton was nothing if not a swirling bundle of chaos and I loved every minute of it. Watching his tufts of hair behind Nat, all those features that made him attractive and unique highlighted in the sunlight streaming in the window beside him. He was in my eyes, a living Disney Prince, maybe that's why we'd lasted all these years.
The constant through all the battles, all the wars, the fights, invasions was that head bump. Forehead to forehead, arms slinking around each other, the soft sighs of safety surviving yet another fight. Bruised, battered and sometimes a broken bone or two, but we were alive together. A gentle touch, a weary glance followed by hungry kisses. The others tolerated it, some even a little jealous that Clint and I had each other. Someone who had their back took care of each other through injury and beyond. A constant in a worldwide sea of chaos, that's what we were.
Even the first time we met was crazy, but it was Clint. I don't think he was capable of not being a cheeky little shit. It's like being an annoyingly cute ball of trouble was hard-wired inside his brain, but despite the popular opinion, Clint was absentmindedly suave in a memorable way.
I just wanted a cup of coffee, but every single pot throughout the breakroom and every other station in this asininely large building was empty. Slamming the empty carafe back in the coffee pot with a little too much force. Holding onto to the counter I rested my head in my arms groaning. Too many back to back missions, too little sleep. I'd been running on an excessive amount of caffeine for weeks now.
"You know," a gruff voice spoke up out of nowhere from behind me. "There's a coffee shop a few blocks away, they don't even question when you ask for extra shots of espresso. I got the barista to add 8 shots before I finally got a weird look."
"That's fantastic but that does nothing for me now. I barely have the energy to turn around and shoot you a dirty look." He had such a musical laugh, but I was tired and in no mood.
I knew I looked odd to anyone else who'd walked in the room, but I didn't care. Still in battle gear bent over the countertop with my head nestled in my folded arms. If he'd have left me be, I very well could have fallen asleep like that, but there's never enough rest for the wicked. Agents like me were understaffed and overworked, we were spread too thin around the world at the moment.
"Come on, I'll carry you if I have to." His hand was hard and calloused but warm as he patted my exposed forearm.
"I'm too slangry to care anymore." I let out a groan but threw myself upward standing up straight.
The sudden rush of blood flow and lack of sleep left me dizzy and wobbling, but he was there to catch me. Stormy blue eyes flanked by gorgeously long eyelashes. Why did guys get so damned lucky like that, it wasn't fair. A strong jawline and a prominent nose. Little crinkle lines around his eyes that said he laughed a lot even though the look on his face now said 'stoic asshole, possible serial killer'. A thin upper lip, but a pouty bottom, like the kind you wanted to nibble on.
I'd fallen to my side but he'd caught me. Muscley biceps and forearms on display in a simple leather vest. Scruffy facial hair dotted his mouth and jaw, the on-set of a five o'clock shadow, but he made it look good. Sandy blonde hair that looked like he'd only just woke up and ran his fingers through it. He was the hottest damned specimen of a man I'd seen in ages and he was holding onto to me like the cover of some cheesy romance novel. A cheeky little smirk spread across his mouth only added to the attractiveness. I had to shake myself from these thoughts, I didn't have time for love, let alone lust.
"Slangry?" His smile only widened seeing the blush streak over my cheeks. I couldn't place who he was in my tired state.
"Yeah, being so sleep deprived it makes me angry," slowly standing up ignoring the fact he still had his hands on my back and waist. "Overworked, underfed, and not enough caffeine to keep me awake." The laugh that erupted from his mouth was hearty and robust. His smirk changed to a wide grin showing bright white teeth.
"Well then, let's go get you some food and enough caffeine to stun an elephant." He held out his hand to shake smiling confidently. "I'm Barton, by the way, Clint Barton."
"Color me embarrassed," I rolled my eyes closed and sighed internally chastising myself.
"Ahh right, my reputation proceeds me I guess," he snickered guiding me out into the hallway and down the stairs before I could tell him my name.
"Sort of," I chuckled watching him chomp on his bottom lip. "I'm..."
"Y/n, I know." He grinned an ear to ear smile. "You're the only other one that uses the archery range, though I've gotta say... a crossbow... really?!" He held his hand over his heart feigning offense over my weapon of choice, but his smile was something to behold.
"Don't knock it, I've got just as many tricks in my arsenal as you do... mine just so happens to fire sonic blasts when I'm outta arrows. Can you say the same? Didn't think so." I snipped back smirking seeing the impressed awe in his eyes. It was magic and kismet from that day on.
Nat looked up from her chair beside Clint and smiled setting her magazine on the floor. She was protective of Clint, looking out for him since he brought her into SHIELD, it hadn't taken long for her to warm up to me making me a member of their little family. There wasn't anyone else I was closer to beside Clint than Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. It was an obvious choice for her when she asked me to join the Avengers Initiative with them.
"How are you holding up Y/n?" She stood up from her chair pulling me into a hug. The last mission was a harsh one, a few injuries too many on the team.
"I think I'm doing rather well for someone internally breaking down every second since the jet landed. Is he still giving the silent treatment?" I asked quietly nodding my head toward Clint behind us.
"You know him, he can be childish sometimes. He'll come around." Nat was walking out of the room but paused in the doorway. "You know if you need someone to talk to..." her eyes glancing down at the bulky album in my hands.
"I know, but your version of talking involves Vodka and I'm ... I can't handle that right now, but thanks."
I sat beside him in familiar silence. It was often how time was spent between the two of us, side by side in quiet. The troubles of the day no longer allowed to make a sound and bother us. His warmth mingling with mine in a calmness few understood. I closed my eyes letting my fingers intertwine with his. Cracked and calloused knuckles and fingertips from his bow felt rough against mine. A soft smile slid across my mouth, lotion was the bain of his existence. He refused to use it claiming it made his bow sticky and the shafts of his arrows fly off-center. Memories flooded my mind holding his hand.
We stayed in that coffee shop for hours once the awkwardness of our meeting in the breakroom. Sharing bistro sandwiches and sipping one espresso after another, watching the people as they rushed about in the world outside the cafe's window. He was funny, offering hilarious quips varying from the obscene to cheesy sounding Dad jokes. Time seemed to stand till and speed by at the same time with him. His laughter was deep and addictive, his smile was the kind you couldn't resist. The type of smile that made you want to join in just to keep seeing it.
He looked so downtrodden when my phone rang interrupting our time. He could tell by the look on my face and the frown it was work. Another mission sending me to who knows where for who knew how long. I sighed, my head dropped, shoulders slouched in frustration as I lifted it to my ear to answer, but Clint was cheeky little shit and snatched it out of my hand.
"DC Sperm Bank, you squeeze it, we freeze it. How can I help you?" He flashed that troublesome smirk of his at the look of shock in my eyes.
He never looked at the screen to see who it was, only answered with his snarky quip. I had to cover my mouth and stifle the laugh seeing him sit up straight in his chair. I wondered if Coulson was reading him the riot act. For a few minutes, all Clint did was listen, nodding his head as if Coulson could see him.
"No can do Sir," Clint finally spoke. "I'm sitting with her right now. I found her doubled over asleep in the breakroom. She's exhausted, barely knew her name. Tried to take her to medical but they were swamped, I think she needs a few days to recover. I'm sure Nat won't mind." Clint winked flashing a little grin and hung up the phone.
"I can not believe you did that!" I let my laughter out and he joined in.
"It's not like I was lying, just strategically using words in a certain way," that grin of his was something else.
"Am I in trouble over your little performance just now?" I quizzed swirling the last bit of my coffee in its cup.
"Have you ever seen the stars from the rooftop of the Avenger Tower?" The question was so random and off-topic.
"What does that have to do with me being in trouble?" I smacked his shoulder childishly.
"Nothing but you've got the next two weeks off thought you might want to spend it with me maybe, I mean if you want or not." For the first time, I saw that cocky confidence of his falter, unsure I'd say what he hoped. His hands playing with the cup, eyes watching it intently.
"Only if you promise to keep Stark away from me," I chuckled watching his face light up.
It was only a few days later that he'd invited me to a party Stark was having, nothing too fancy Clint swore. It didn't keep him from pacing around my room in SHIELD headquarters picking up random objects and playing with them. SHIELD's deadliest archer and there he was no different than a scared little boy afraid of hearing a no.
"Jeans and a t-shirt, I don't care," he answered when I didn't stop asking him what to wear. "I just don't want to go to this thing alone. Most everyone there that isn't an Avenger will ignore us anyway, they only ever want to talk to Tony or Steve, even Thor when he's on Earth. It's just..." he faded off staring out my bedroom window.
"Seeing all those people with someone makes you realize how lonely you are." He turned toward me with a saddened tiny smile and nodded his head.
He was good on his word after introducing me to the rest of his teammates and Tony showed an interest, but Clint kept him at bay. We danced and drank, made fun of his friends, monopolized the pool table and challenged each other on Tony's overpriced and oddly luxurious dartboard. Clint was as charming as that first day in the coffee shop. The subtle way his arm would drape over my shoulder walking through the crowd or rest behind me when we sat on one of the many couches.
Clint's eyes crinkled each time he smiled when I snuck in a dig at Tony. How unafraid I was when Nat sat on the other side of me staring me down. His laughter tore through the crowd when I mirrored her death glare straight back at her and made her smile. There wasn't any hiding his excitement getting along with his best friend, I'd passed Nat's test and stood my ground. He was less than happy how quickly she and I bonded though. The whispers in Russian and the way we both looked at him and laughed.
The night had wound down and it was just the Avengers and me left, we sat around in the lounge telling stories and the such. Clint sat on the end of the couch, one arm of his resting on the arm of the couch, the other draped over my shoulder, fingers tracing absentmindedly on my arm. Gauging by the looks the others were giving Clint, this wasn't something common for him. Nat sat on the other end of the couch smirking with knowing eyes.
"Alright now that we've got a fresh set of eyes and hopefully some higher intelligence," Tony snickered and pulled out a picture. "Tell me Y/n, what is this? I swear to all that is sacred in science if you give the same answer as Clint did, I will eat my faceplate." Tony flipped the picture over revealing an armadillo.
The others stifled their laughter as I scrunched my eyes, my brows knit together. I glanced at Nat who only shrugged her shoulders grinning. I could see Clint smirking out of the corner of my eye. It was starting to feel like this whole night was some sort of test, like an initiation into their inner circle. I took a large sip of my beer and leaned back into the couch feeling Clint's arm tighten around my shoulder.
"That's easy," I grinned widely. "It's a military-grade attack possum."
Clint leaned forward laughing loudly smacking his free hand on the arm of the couch. The others joined in a ruckus of laughter. Only Tony seemed flustered throwing the picture behind groaning.
"Oh for fucks sakes, not her too!" Tony looked so disappointed.
"See, I told you they were together!" Nat grinned smugly. Clint's arm lifted off me instantly at her words, the look of terror in his face.
"We're not... I wish, shit I mean... no..." he sputtering looking anxious.
"Says you," I snorted out a small laugh and turned my attention to Tony. "As for you, would you like some ketchup for that faceplate?"
Clint was so cute and clutzy knocking over his beer and mine in his movements. Glass shattering on the floor, the heavy barley smell of the beer surrounded us. He tried to stand to clean the mess he'd caused. I grabbed onto his leather jacket pulling him back down on the couch, a look of shock and confusion in his eyes watching me inch closer to him. His whole body stiffened not believing any of it was real.
My lips on his, sunkissed and chapped, tasting like beer. His hands unsure of what to do, where to put them. The soft groan stuck in his throat feeling me move from sitting beside him to in his lap. One of his hands found solace resting on my lower back, the other gingerly tangling his finger in my hair. The kiss was soft and sweet, lingering and warm. Lightheaded I pulled away for air, smirking at the wildly startled but amused look on his face.
"Wha-wha... what was that?" Clint gasped in a daze, the others laughing quietly around us.
"Affection," I grinned watching the smirk grow on his mouth.
"Affection huh... I like affection, can I get some more?" With that response, the others burst out in the loudest fit of laughter.
"Alright you stubborn ass," I tried to sound upbeat lifting the album in my lap and opening the book. "Since you're ignoring me, I guess it's a trip down memory lane to remind you why you love me." He stayed quiet beside me and unmoving.
The first couple of pages were goofy selfie shots from up on the rooftop of Avenger Tower during that two-week vacation he'd somehow gotten me. Darkened skies in the background, strings of lights above our head letting off a soft glow. The city in all it's nighttime glory all around us. I sat in Clint's lap on a lounge chair, a blanket draped over our legs. Silly faces filled each photograph until the last two on the page. He'd caught me off guard with what he'd said. He held the camera out at arm's length taking the photo. Clint was smiling with rosy cheeks from the cold, but I sat with my mouth open in stunned silence.
The rooftop was chilly, the breeze always carried a cold wind so high up, but it didn't stop him from dragging me outside. This night, however, had been the same night of Stark's party. They'd started teasing us about getting a room after our little 'affection' incident, so Clint grinned goofily and grabbed my hand pulling me out of the lounge and up to his rooftop hideaway. We could hardly hear the city way up here. Peering off into the distance trying to glimpse the stars as we settled in the lounge chair.
He must have expected me to sit beside him by the little amused glint in his eyes as I snuggled myself into his lap. Clint didn't laugh or comment, only let out a little sigh when I wrapped my arm around his neck leaning my temple to his. Lost in my little thoughts wondering how easily I found it being in his presence. A simple encounter in the breakroom led to spending every day together.
At first, it was overwhelming, I kept thinking he'd find me uninteresting and get bored. A small part of me trying to prepare itself for when the other shoe dropped. It all seemed too good to be real. The walks in the park playing with dogs, friendly competition with our weapons in the range. Lunches and dinners out around the city. Clint seemed to know the best places to eat where ever we were, and the coffee, so much coffee.
"When we first started talking, hanging out, I honestly didn't want to get involved with anyone, but I never saw it coming. You were so damned good to me, easy to talk to and little by little I found myself falling for you." There were so many emotions crossing his face as he stared at me, but the one that stuck out the most was a shy fear.
"Clint," offering him a small smile, but he stopped me short with his index finger atop my lips.
"Each night saying goodbye to you... it's like a part of me shatters. I lie awake at night and all I can think about is how in the hell did it happen so fast? How could I find the last thing I was looking for right in front of me? You know what I'm trying to say?" He asked nervously watching me shake my head no making him chuckle. "Look I don't expect you to feel the same or even talk to me at all after this but... I fell in love with you Y/n."
Clint reached out his hand that held his camera and snapped a photo of us. His hair caught in the wind like little tufts of grass waving about. The smile that spread across his face watching the blush cover my cheeks. The slow movement of my mouth parting in awe. I heard the click of the camera. Watched his eyes dart between mine curiously in a boyish charm. His grin widened feeling my body moving, inching closer to his. The laughter that left his mouth between the kisses I left on his lips. Another click of his camera caught the moment he'd never forget, the night he said he loved me. The night I returned the feeling.
I sat staring down at the photographs, reliving each moment all over again. Clint Barton wasn't the most open of people. He was reserved and often quiet, only acting like himself in front of those he truly felt comfortable around. To relieve those memories and realize how easily, how quickly he was his true self around me from that first laugh in the breakroom left my heart pounding in my chest. The beat of a thousand horses galloping inside my chest and all for the man sat beside me. I stared down at some photos taken by Nat of Clint and me in the media room of the Tower from the first fight we'd ever had.
He'd only been out of medical for a couple of hours. He'd gone overboard on his last mission, some real heavy-duty dumbass shit on his part that left him bruised and battered. There were cuts and gashes over his arms. Clint thought he'd be funny and had the medical staff use camouflage colored bandages.
"Didn't happen if she can't see them right?" They laughed at his joke knowing full well he'd be in trouble anyway. They could practically hear me calling him an 'idiot' already.
His hearing aids had been lost somewhere between the fight gone wrong and Steve carrying his wounded butt back to the Quinn. I'd been away on a recon so I had no idea, Clint liked it that way. He wanted everyone to keep quiet on the crazy plans that got him hurt. I'd pointed out jokingly after our first mission together that he was no better than a clutz who stumbled into lucky outcomes. It was never a second thought for him, he'd always put the needs of others ahead of himself.
I couldn't remember how the argument started, but it carried on throughout the halls and into the media room. He refused to grab a spare set of hearing aids which led to part of my frustration, my signing wasn't the greatest. We stopped in the middle of the room amid our first fight. He was oblivious to the others seated around the room watching us.
Clint and I were signing furiously back and forth, angry expressions, rolling eyes. Our hands smacking harshly as we signed, the sound echoing in the room. He growled and signed so quickly I shrieked in agitation and went off on a tangent signing while he watched wide-eyed. The smirk spread over his face as he doubled over laughing.
"What just happened?" Steve inquired, he'd been rooting for us since the night he met me. Hoping I'd mellow Clint out from his craziness.
"Y/n just signed 'don't yell at me' to a deaf guy," Nat snickered.
Clint was still laughing and pulled me into a hug kissing my cheek. I couldn't help but smirk and sign at him again, this time his mouth opened and closed a few times before he smacked his palm to his forehead laughing.
"Okay, now I've officially seen it all," Natasha laughed hysterically.
"What?" Sam watching curiously.
"That's got to be the first and only time I've ever seen someone use sarcasm in A.S.L." Nat
"What'd she say?" Tony asked in tune with Sam and Steve.
"Y/n said 'next time use your inside hands when signing, I don't like being yelled at'," Nat had to leave the room she was laughing so hard.
He was quiet as he laid on his bed, his sandy blonde hair sticking up all over. The newest cuts and bruises from the last mission covered in bandages all over his arms and fingers. Part of his head wrapped in gauze. It was my fault we never saw the RPG coming. My fault that the explosion rocked the top of the building we were on sending him flying over the edge. Clint laying silently in a coma next to me was all my fault, all because I opened my mouth in fear unable to keep it to myself. I crawled into his hospital bed laying my head on his chest and started crying.
We laid out under the stars, only Clint could pull me out of bed at 3 in the morning without getting screamed at. The quiet solace in the stars above provided a sort of comfort. His fingers trailing lines and circles on my arm beneath the blanket he'd covered us in. It'd become a tradition with us when the weather was nice, to layout beneath the stars. Watching the massive unknown before our eyes in the sky above. Though these stars in the city were nothing like ones at his farm. They weren't as bright or as easy to see, but they were still there glinting and shining down.
"Do you ever think about having kids?" He whispered. The conversation was bound to come up at some point especially now that we were engaged.
"Sometimes, but I don't know if I'd be any good at it. I like my peace and quiet, guess that makes me sound kinda selfish huh?"
"Not really. I'd be a terrible father," he spoke so sure that it was set in stone. I always thought he'd be a great father. He was goofy and fun, but focused when he needed to, but how he sounded left me sitting up and staring at him.
"Unlikely, you'd be that one dad that all the other kids want to hang out with. The kind of dad that'd have all the game consoles and build a pool just so his kids could have pool parties with their friends. I bet you'd even let you kids stay up past bedtime because they had you wrapped around their little finger." It was a silly thought, but it made me smile. Clint only shook his head in disgust.
"My kids would hate me. I'd start to be a good father, but I'd only end up like him. They'd run away in the middle of the night just like Barney and I did."
"Clint, you're not an alcoholic like him and you don't have a mean bone in your body." He was afraid, I knew all about his childhood. Going from a broken home to the circus and the abuse he went through there as well.
"I don't want kids, I'd just fuck up their lives. I ruin everything I touch Y/n, it's only a matter of time before I drive you away too. It's what I do." I couldn't fathom how he could ever think of such things.
"I'm sorry," the sob making my body quiver. "I shouldn't have said anything at all but I was scared, Clint. I'm scared and I don't know how not to be."
I felt the tears streaming down my face wetting his hospital gown. They had no idea how long he'd be out, the only thing they told me was the hit to his head when he landed should have killed him. It only made me feel worse knowing it was all on me. I was the cause of him lying unconscious in this hospital bed fearing that he'd never wake up. Flipping his palm over in a last-ditch effort to get him to wake up, I started tapping out in morse code.
"I need you to wake up Clint, I can't do this without you."
On any other day, I would have noticed the team huddled around the door behind me. I would have noticed the sullen faces, the worry in their eyes, but my only focus was Clint. The rapid touch of my finger against his palm even as I spoke the words aloud.
"This is all my fault. I'm scared you'll never wake up, that I'll have to go through all of this alone. I was just so freaked out you'd leave me. I know your home life wasn't the greatest and you thought you'd end up like your old man, but you'd make a fantastic dad Clint."
"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?!" It was the only time I'd ever heard Nat speak in such an irritated tone with me.
I sat up wiping away the tears staring at the ground. I couldn't face them, couldn't bear the myriad of gazes my way. None of them knew what happened up on the rooftop, only saw us flying off the sides of the crumbling roof. They'd hate me now probably as much as Clint would when ... if he ever woke up. I saw Nat's boots in my eye-line on the floor as she stood in front of me, even the way they planted themselves on the tiled floor had an attitude to them. I expected her to yell, to scream and blame me for his current condition, but she only pulled me into her and hugged me tightly.
"Y/n look at me," her voice softened. When I shook my head no, her fingers curled under my chin pulling it up.
"I-I... I'm sorry," I broke down sobbing again. "He said he didn't want to end up like his dad, that he was scared to ever have kids. It's all my fault, Nat, I did that to him. I just blurted it out. I thought he'd leave me, that he wouldn't want me anymore, but I couldn't not tell him."
"Shh," she ran her fingers through my hair to comfort me. "He'd never leave Y/n."
"How do you know Nat? You knew what he and Barney went through growing up, he said he never wanted any kid to go through that."
"You, Y/n," she cooed softly making me stare up at her in disbelief. "He's been talking about a future with you, a gaggle of kids running around the yard chasing after him and a dog. He smiles every time he talks about it."
"Come Y/n," I felt Steve's hand on my shoulder. "Let's go get you some tea and some rest."
I slept through the night with the help of Bruce's tea. For days I laid in bed, exhausted emotionally, mentally and physically. In and out of consciousness, in that disturbing sort of sleep where you couldn't tell what was real and what was a dream. My dreams reliving the terror on his face at my words. All the color draining from him, how his body trembled and shook comprehending what I'd blurted out. The sounds of the RPG hitting the building, the cracking of the brick. Clint's body flying through the air and the sickening crack as his body landed on a balcony floors below. Debris raining down on the street below.
I kept crying out that I was sorry, pleading for forgiveness. Trying to explain my fear as if that would justify any of it. The dream would shift and morph into a haze of night skies and stars. I'd feel his warmth behind me, his arms wrapped around holding me like he was afraid to let go. Mumbled whispers too incoherent to understand, but his breath tickled my ear.
Paralyzed in my sleepy state, I couldn't open my eyes. A nudge against my forehead, a hardened hard of fingers stroking my cheek. His gruff voice tearing itself through my drowsy state pulling me out of the deepened sleep.
"I had the craziest dream," his lips pressed a tiny kiss on my nose. "I dreamt that I was chasing a tiny little munchkin through the grassy field behind the farm. A yellow lab barking up a storm in a playful frenzy behind us."
"Clint?" My eyes fluttered opened seeing his face so close. His tired eyes surrounded with darkened circles staring back at me.
"You were up on the back porch watching us laughing. The smells steaks and baked potatoes wafting in the air. You had the cutest smile on your face and it only got bigger when you rested your hands on your belly." Clint smirked settling his hand on my stomach.
"Shouldn't you be in the hospital?" My voice full of worry seeing the bandage wrapped around his head, my tiredness melting away.
"I snuck out now shush I'm telling you about my dream," he clicked his tongue in fake annoyance. "You looked so gorgeous on the porch all round and pregnant, like an angel. Then it switched to a few years later and we were taking our oldest to school for the first time and it was the worst feeling in my life having to say goodbye to him. I'd never been away from them longer than a couple of hours. I was crying like a baby but you kept telling me to suck it up, that it was only a few hours and they'd have all kinds of stories to tell us about his day.
"Next thing I saw was years later repeating the same thing with our daughter. It was worse this time for me because she was my baby girl. Years flashing by of them growing up. Constant renovations were done to the farm to accommodate all their different hobbies. Dance recitals, football practice, cheerleading, soccer, and hockey. 4H and all the animals they raised by hand showed off every year at the local farm show. Blue ribbons and trophies lining every wall in the den.
"Then there was teaching them to drive as nerve-wracking as that was, then prom, and high school graduation. Driving across the country moving them to their college dorm rooms. Phone calls and letters. Visits home a couple of times a year during the holidays. Even after all those years raising those kids when I took my hearing aids out, I could still hear them fighting and arguing over the tv. So many years of chaos and noise I'd forgotten what the silence was like. Sitting next to you on that old porch swing holding your hand in quiet contemplation watching the stars in the night sky.
"It felt just like that first night I dragged you up to the rooftop of Stark Tower and I loved every second of it. I know it was just a dream but I want it, I want all of that sticky tables and cheerios all over the floor. The midnight feedings and wailing screams. I want to see the first steps and be there holding on to the back of their bike teaching them to ride. I want to show them how a dad is supposed to act, shower them with more love than they know what to do with it. I want to be there Y/n, and you're not going through this alone."
I was silent watching his face, gleaming all the emotion floating in his eyes. Feeling the warmth of his hand worked its way under my shirt rubbing circles over my stomach. He bumped his forehead to mine again, soft kisses placed on my lips with his patented smirk.
"You... you're not mad?" My voice cracked, my mouth quivered in fear.
"Only that you went out on that damned mission. I love you Y/n, nothings ever going to change that. Remember you said that your broken and my broken make a whole. What do you say after I get clearance we go back to the farm for a while."
"I'd like that," I grinned feeling his arms snaking around me holding me close.
"Good, I'm gonna need your help with the nursery."