habromania → marvel imagines

{ clint barton }

happy new year
type: fluff
pairing: clint barton x gn!reader (use of 'ma'am once but, apart from that, gn!reader)
no warnings apply

━─━────༺༻────━─━

clint was injured.

again.

it honestly seemed like every single day now he would return home with a new cast, pair of crutches, possible medication, or even a simple bandaid plastered over a fresh wound from yet another battle.

of course, you weren't complaining. he was off saving the world, which was way more than every other man was capable of. you loved clint and his whole avengering.

you just didn't like seeing him in pain. or the post-pain when he would burst through the door and practically collapse on the sofa, grinning up at you stupidly.

but this most recent fight had resulted in each of the avengers taking a pretty bad hit. and, considering he lacked to match their inhuman abilities, clint took the worst of it.

natasha had helped him through the door of yours and his shared apartment. fortunately, you were finishing up the light washing in the kitchen, which was situated near the front door, so you could help him through.

"oh my go- again, clint?"

with the joint effort between you and natasha, you moved him other to the sofa where he fell from your grip and stumbled onto the cushions before deciding now was the perfect time to joke around, "honey, i'm home."

"i can see that, sweetheart." you rubbed his leg comfortingly and turned to natasha, "thank you-"

"please, it's the least i could do. he's in a pretty bad condition this time-"

"hey! im in perfurectio shape" clint protested.

"actually it's pronou- nevermind." natasha shook her head as clint waved his hand dismissively then turned back to you, "good luck."

you hummed out a laugh, "thanks."

much to your despair, this was practically routine by now; nat bringing clint home to you. the only change was how bad he got hurt in the brawl - and his wounds looked erythematous, you couldn't imagine the pain inflicted by it.

natasha stopped right before the door, palm resting on the handle, and turned to briefly look back at you, "no one will be expecting you both there tomorrow, so don't worry."

you sent her a warm smile, nodding a short 'thank you' before looking back at your boyfriend, who had risen vaguely off the sofa in hope. romanoff left, amused by clint's incapability of being an adult.

every year, none other than tony stark threw

"we're skipping stark's party?" there was a childish glimmer in his eyes, which was a regular sight with the archer.

you took a seat on the leather comforter, directly next to the sofa where he was sprawled out, and ran your fingers through his mousy hair, unraveling some light tangles as you drifted your hand to cup his cheek lovingly, your fingertips brushing against the so smooth yet so rough skin as you spoke softly in reply, "most likely."