Fantasies Come True

Draw Me to Life - Clint Barton

Draw Me to Life – Clint Barton

"So who's Jeremy Renner?" Clint inquired as he sat in the passenger seat of your car on the way to the store.

"He's an actor," you replied. "He represents you in the movie about the Avengers."

He nodded slowly in understanding. "So all of my friends are characters in this movie?"

It was your turn to nod.

"And no one knows we really exist?"

"Exactly," you agreed. "Everyone thinks you're just comic book characters. Some of us have wished really hard that you were real, but this is the first time anything's ever come from it."

He smirked. "Have you wished really hard?"

A blush stained your cheeks. "No, of course not," you lied. You quickly pulled into the parking lot and parked, turning off your car. Before he could press the issue, you got out of the car and slammed the door, walking towards the store without waiting for Clint to follow.

You sat on the bench that sat outside the dressing room, keeping an eye on the cart full of clothes that Clint had picked out. You had helped him develop a nice style and if you were honest with yourself, you were dying to see what he looked like in the button down shirts and fitted jeans he was trying on.

"What do you think?" came Clint's voice from the dressing room to your left. You turned to see a shirtless Clint standing in the doorway, showing off very fitting jeans that were most definitely the right size. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried not to let him see your eyes linger on his toned torso.

"They fit better than the last pair," you choked out, and you didn't miss the smirk on his lips as he turned and sauntered back into the changing room. Every time he tried on a pair of pants, he made a point of showing them to you sans his shirt. You tried not to give him what he wanted, but he was too attractive for you to not look.

He came out again a few moments later, this time covering his top half in a very flattering cotton button-down. It was light blue, accenting his eyes and contrasting beautifully against his tanned skin. He even rolled the sleeves up – your weakness.

You cleared your throat when you realized you were staring. "Yeah, uh... That one's nice..."

He grinned. "Better than the last one?"

Your brain stalled. The last three times he'd emerged from the dressing room, he hadn't been wearing a shirt. What the hell was the last shirt he put on?

"Yeah, totally," you managed, watching him retreat around the corner to change back into his own clothes.

On your way back to your apartment, you stopped at a nearby café. You needed caffeine if you were going to house Clint Barton, and he was more than happy to agree. You didn't have anything to disguise him other than a pair of sunglasses and hiding him in the crowd, so you warned him beforehand to follow your lead if anyone approached you.

You stood in line with Clint at your side, your arm linked around his to try and deter prying eyes. You rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips. You knew he took pride in your close proximity and you tried to ignore how much you enjoyed having him close and breathing in his cologne.

Sure enough, as you neared the front of the line, a group of teen girls noticed your company and giggled like twelve-year-olds.

You nudged Clint's side. "You know how I said someone might mistake you for Jeremy Renner?"

He nodded, following your gaze over to the group of girls. "I'm guessing them?"

You stepped forward to order drinks for the both of you. Since he'd never been to this café, you ordered two of your favorites so he could try one. While you waited, you led him to a table and sat down, watching as the girls plucked up the courage to approach him.

"Smile and play nice and they'll go away," you instructed.

"Hey there," Clint greeted with a cheeky smile. The girls giggled like toddlers.

"Can we get a picture with you?" one of them asked.

He glanced at you for confirmation and nodded when you smiled. They posed around him, grinning ear-to-ear, while you handled one of their phones to take a picture. They all thanked Clint profusely before shuffling out the door.

"That wasn't so bad," he mused as you led him out of the café, heading out to your car.

"That was only a couple of them," you countered, heading back to your apartment.

The only downside to taking Clint clothes shopping was that he was now dressed in very fitting, very flattering clothing that made it hard for you to deny your attraction to him. He knew it too, as made evident by the constant smirk on his lips every time he looked at you. He had caught you staring at him, admiring the way his muscles shifted against the fabric of his shirt and the way his jeans hung low on his hips, leaving just enough to the imagination. You knew you had been caught a few times, and you always tried to avoid the subject. You would quickly direct your attention to something on TV or the food you were cooking or anything that wasn't related to his very enticing body.

You had no idea how to send him home, and as the days past with him spending all of his time with you, he didn't seem very interested in going back. You weren't ready to admit that you wanted him to stay. Deep down, you were content with waking up every morning to find him in your apartment, watching TV or reading a book or cooking you food. It had only been a few days, but you liked having him around, and you knew he liked being there.