Marvel Imagines

Win You Over (Clint Barton X Reader)

A/N: This started out as something and then wandered. But oh well. My left eye is doing something funky again so that's fun. Yay. Anyways. Enjoy. It's late. I'm tired. Bye.

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Rain splashes heavily against the window of the safe-house you're currently cooped up in, a distant rumble of thunder and crack of lightning illuminating the dark space.

You'd ran out of candles and matches about an hour ago, much to your Partner's chagrin, a rather disappointed sigh escaping his lips as the final candle burned itself out.

"Well, so much for that game of cards," Clint Barton had mumbled, tossing down his hand of playing cards in defeat, frowning at you through the darkness. "I guess I win."

"You don't win nothing, Barton," You chuckled with your own heavy sigh, collecting the cards and shoving them in their appropriate pocket in your backpack.

"Not true," He'd replied swiftly, his usual air of humour and sarcasm evident in his tone as he'd disappeared into the darkness, the sound of the living room couch creaking the only telltale sign of where your Partner headed.

"How so?"

"I'm winning your trust - I count that as a win."

A beat of silence had fallen thick in the small, dingy safe house after Clint had made that comment.

And even now, as you stare up at the ceiling, fighting against fatigue, you can't help but allow your mind to wander, your Partner's remark echoing in your head.

It's not like you don't trust Clint Barton.

You do.

He's saved your life numerous times over and you with his.

But the fact that he verbally admitted to the fact that he's intentionally trying to win you over...

A blush dusts your cheeks and makes your heart race, the added sudden clap of thunder not helping your cause as it rumbles through your surroundings, catching you completely off guard and earning a surprised gasp from your lips.

"You good?" Your Partner's familiarly warm voice sounds from behind you, his couch once more creaking in protest as he shifts, raising his head slightly to peer at you through the darkness.

"Yeah," You breathe, willing your heart to slow and thoughts to re-centre. "I'm okay."

At this, Clint just chuckles softly, the sound once more causing a blush to taint your cheeks a crimson red.

"That doesn't sound too convincing."

Wordlessly, you watch as his much lager figure nears your smaller one, asking permission to sit beside you with his eyes, to which you simply nod.

"You can talk to me, you know. We are Partners after all," The man sitting beside you hums, voice lower than a whisper - almost as if he was afraid someone else would hear his words and ruin whatever plans he's slowly putting in motion.

"I'm fine, Clint. Really, I am," You insist, raising your gaze to meet his, which, instantly, you recognize as a mistake.

Another rumble of thunder and jolt of lightning illuminates the room, and along with it, the handsome features of your Partner.

And just for a split second, you become absolutely enthralled in his mesmerizing blue gaze, staring back at you with such genuine compassion, a different set of emotions begin to cascade over you.

Unable to do much more than give into yourself, tears prick your eyes, though you don't quite understand why.

But when a delicate hand is raised to cradle your cheek and a calloused thumb wipes away the few tears that had rolled down your cheeks, you realize just what you're feeling - and no likely what the archer is feeling as well.

"You said earlier that you were winning my trust," You breathe, your gaze again meeting his. "And that you count that as a win?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? Having your absolute trust is something I've always wanted to have since..."

Your Partner trails off, a look of sudden sheepishness making its way onto his features.

'Go on,' You urge wordlessly, your curious glare through the dim darkness surrounding the pair of you enough to spur him on.

"Since I met you, I guess," Clint admits, a hand scratching the back of his neck rather awkwardly, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Which probably sounds horrible and I completely understand if you-"

You cut his sudden rambling short, wrapping your hand around the wrist of his hand still softly cradling your cheek, a soft smile finding its way to your own lips.

"Just come out and say it, Barton."

"Say what?"

"What you're trying to say without actually saying it."

"How am I supposed to know what I'm trying to say when you're trying to say it without actually saying it?"

"Quit pretending," You groan in playful annoyance, swatting his arm. "We both know what's going on here - it just seems that neither of us are bold enough to say it."

The man sitting beside you pauses for a moment, seeming to contemplate something briefly before a knowing smirk appears on his features, his other hand finding its way to your chin, a finger hooking beneath it and forcing your gaze to meet his, unable to look away.

"Then I guess I won't use words."

And before you even realize what exactly is happening in whatever rickety old cabin of a safehouse you're stuck in, you find yourself with your lips locked against a man's who you've always had your eye on, But was too afraid to ever do something about your feelings.

The finger that had been under your chin vanishes as the kiss deepens, and instead is planted on your hip, urging you towards him.

You both break away from each other for a moment with breathy giggles, finding yourselves now laying on the couch, genuinely satisfied grins on both your lips.

"I think that clears things up, then?" He mumbles softly, planting a delicate kiss against your lips once more before wrapping you in an embrace, pulling you closer into his chest.

"It certainly does," You breathe, humming lightly in content, feeling completely safe and at ease in your Partner's arms. "And guess what?"

"What?"

"I believe you've completely won me over, Clint Barton. I certainly believe you have."

"That's good," He mumbles with a yawn, shifting you both slightly. "I'm glad we're both on the same page now."

"Me too."

And with that, you both begin to fall into the depths of sleep, but before you succumb entirely, you could swear you hear the very three words you'd been waiting to hear - the voice a barely distinguishable whisper thick with fatigue.

"I love you."