Marvel Fluff

Dance:: Clint Barton

Usually Clint did the bulk of the cleaning in the house while I watched on and complimented his broom wielding skills. Clint had been gone for five weeks on a mission with S.H.I.E.L.D which meant that the cleaning was left to me.

I stared at the current state of the living room and kitchen in distress. The decorative sofa pillows laid abandoned on the ground and the sofas sat under a blanket of chip packets, candy wrappers and pizza boxes. The kitchen looked worse. Piles upon piles of dirty dishes had been thrown on the counters and mouldy food laid untouched on the benches. It looks like a tornado hit this place.

However much I despised cleaning, I could always motivate myself to work when I listened to music. Connecting my phone to the speaker in the kitchen, I put on a suitable playlist and began the hefty task of tidying up.

Inspired by the movie Mrs Doubtfire I strummed the broom as if it were a guitar. As I cleaned my dancing became more pronounced. What was once subtle bops of my head in time with the beat became whole body thrusts and head bangs that even Robin Williams would be proud of. I let the rhythm of the song command each stroke of the broom as I swept my way through the living room and kitchen. The low beat of the drums took over my hands as they swiped and wiped at the dirty dishes. I was dancing in a world of my own and nothing could distract me from cleaning.

"You never could dance, could you?" A voice interrupted my vigorous dish wiping.

My stiff hip thrusts stopped and my whole body froze. This is embarrassing was the first thought that entered my mind. With my back still facing the direction of the voice, a second thought entered my mind that voice sounds familiar and with that my whole world clicked, Clint fucking Barton. The embarrassment faded and my body sagged against the kitchen countertop. Five weeks without that voice hit me all at once, I pressed my elbows into the countertop and covered my face with my hands. Salty tears ran down my covered face and my shoulders shuddered.

Five weeks of waiting up all night for a phone call that never came. Five weeks of sleepless nights. Five weeks of worrying. Five weeks of loneliness. Five weeks of being half a soul. Five weeks without Clint.

The overwhelming feeling of being whole again took over and it felt as if I was detached from the world. Only Clint mattered and yet in that moment I couldn't bring myself to touch him let alone look at him. I was scared, terrified that if I turned around and stared into his ocean blue eyes he might disappear and never come back.

My tears stopped as I felt two rough hands gently coil around my waist. With his front pressed against my back Clint rested his forehead in the crook of my shoulder. I could feel his warm rugged breath against my neck and we simultaneously let out a sigh of relief at being back in each other's arms.

My voice wavered slightly even though I tried to sound threatening. "Never leave me again"

"I won't. This place is a mess" Clint snickered.