♡||Marvel x Reader Oneshots||♡

《barton》

[?: It's about the little things and unspoken questions behind the cutest gestures.]

[Note: Deaf!Clint (just the way I like him) and selectively mute!reader in a No powers!Modern!AU.]

Lately, you found yourself awaiting this, your lunch break at the Cafe which you've grown to care for a great deal.

For it's a place of firsts after a final with the same-still variable that is Clinton Francis Barton--or Clint, as he preferred.

"Hey, so you were a great side snack and all," your 'boyfriend' had started with a disgusting laugh, "but there's this fucking babe I have waiting for me back at my place."

This.... wasn't a surprise to you. You'd hear him on the phone with another and he'd come home later than before. You were just to shy and hurt to ever speak out about.

However, this was overwhelming. He had stormed in during your job and humiliated you in front of your costumers and your co-worker, Natasha, who looked as though she was going to murder him. Tears came out and you could feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment. Natasha quickly moved to comfort you, but you merely sobbed in response.

Before the asshole could leave a blond gentleman stood and approached him.

"What the fuck do you want?" Your ex sneered as the man came to stop before him. The blond's blue eyes practically bore into your douche ex's skull before they softened and he smiled. "Hey, shi-SHIT!"

The cafe nearly went silent as the gentleman smoothly walked back past your coffee-soaked ex and made his way to you. Dashing out, your ex ran out with shouts of less-than-appropriate remarks. The man before you had moved his hands quickly and gracefully.

"Are you alright, Miss?" He had signed to you. The hiccups slowly died down and you realized the man couldn't fucking hear, but he saw you in peril and chose to help.

"Thank you, so much."

That was a year ago. A year ago, sweet Clint introduced himself. He confessed he wasn't entirely deaf and could speak too. Later, though. ("Only 80%, but, really, who's counting?" He nonchalantly signed as he told you a bit about the incident that caused the impairment much later in his life.)

Ten months ago, you both became friends. Eight months ago, you kissed him on the lips at Banner's New Years Party. Seven months ago, you'd started dating him. (Though Natasha insisted that you should just skip straight to marriage, in her not-quite-joking manner.)

Now two weeks ago, something new started. These last two weeks, Clint came by on your Saturday-shift break and handed you a box.

The first week, it was a cute, purple, stuffed bird. In return, you stood on your tippy-toes and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. He quickly sighed, "I'll see you later, (f/n)!" and quickly ran out, cheeks dusted pink.

The second week, the box was smaller and his smile was wider. When you opened it, a beautiful necklace with the word 'beautiful' presented itself to your wide (e/c) eyes. In your excitement, you pressed a loving kiss to his cheek, just below his glimmering blue eye.

Careful, hands put the cute, gold necklace on you. That time he kissed your knuckles and left without a sign.

Now, today, you sat waiting for him with a cup of his favourite coffee. Any moment... Any minute.... Clint.

You glanced at the clock and noticed your thirty-minute break was nearly up. A little worried, you tried to reason with yourself internally that it was because you had the late shift. It is   six, aftsr all. As if on que, Natasha walked up to you with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

"You should go outside and check if he's coming," she whispered, then wandered off to the back of the shop. You glanced around and the shop was basically empty, so you took the chance to go take up her offer.

When you opened the dood, you paused in a mixture of shock and awe.

Right on the wooden outer-dining are stood Clint, practically glowing with the outer lights on and fireflies swifling around him with a pleasant hum. He turned to face you and you nearly gasped at the sight of his pristeen, black suit.

Vaguely, you felt someone--Natasha, you thought-- push you forward and you kept going, stopping just in front of him.

He hummed softly and took your hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, before he got down on one knee.

He didn't have to sign, or do anything else, you had already started crying.

"Will you marry me?" His quiet voice, raspy from years of un-use, reached you. You nodded frantically in response, giving him your hand so he could slide the ring on your finger.

You didn't even let him stand before you surged forwards and kissed him. On the lips this time. When you broke away you buried your face in his neck and hugged him, voice soft and barely present, but he knows you said it.

"Always, yes."