Quickly written for a prompt: Every so often Clint will find a note from Bruce in his quiver.
Bruce is slightly out of character.
Also, I own nothing.

Clint spent most of his time in the shooting range in the basement of the Avengers mansion, either alone or with Natasha training with him or Bruce watching, because he wasn't a very social type of person most of the time and the company of his quiver, best friend and lover were really all he needed most of the time.

Clint was alone today, and sighed at the thought of Bruce. He didn't really understand what they had, to be honest. They slept together, they shared a bed most nights, but during the day, they were just friends and barely acted like anything went on between the sheets. The only person who knew they had anything was Natasha, who had found out because she was, in Tony's words, "a super spy and had a tendency to know everything about everyone even if it was none of her business."

The archer reached for another arrow and was notching it in his bow when he saw a piece of paper in his quiver. Curious, he grabbed it.

I'll be out all day, but do you want to meet me in my rooms at nine? We could have a late dinner then... Well... :)

Clint's eyes widened in surprise at the familiar handwriting and the content of the note. Dinner? In private? That wasn't something they did. They had dinner with the team, and then when they went to bed one of them would sneak into the other's room, they'd spend the night together, and wake up together in the morning like it was totally something friends did.

Dinner sounded like a date. Is that what Bruce meant? And that smiley face. Clint tried to imagine the small, sly yet shy smile Bruce would have after suggesting sex. He smiled a bit at the mental image and berated himself for over-thinking the situation. Dinner. He could do dinner. He sent Bruce a quick text that said "see you at nine" and went back to training.

Clint watched as Natasha brutally killed one of the targets with her favourite gun. She'd just gotten into another fight with Tony over proper procedure and what-not after a battle (they'd fought Loki again this morning, and 'Tasha still hadn't forgiven him for what he'd said on the Helicarrier), and was extremely frustrated with the billionaire's casual dismissal of such things.

The redheaded assassin finished off the poor target (Clint wondered if it was the one that looked most like Stark) and turned, sweating slightly, to her best friend. She had a twinkle in her eye- it figured, she was always in a better mood after being excessively violent. Then again, so was Clint.

"So, I saw a piece of paper in your quiver, just so you know. Rolled up carefully, so I'd say it was deliberate." She gestured to the quiver with a smirk (she knew who it was from, didn't she?), which was at Clint's feet, and he looked down and retrieved the paper.

Have I ever told you you're extremely attractive after a fight? See you tonight... :)

Clint made a small choking noise in the back of his throat and felt his face go uncharacteristically red. That wasn't... That wasn't very Bruce-like, but there was no mistaking his neat scrawl.

Natasha cocked her head to the side as Clint stared at the paper in surprise. She reached over and grabbed it out of her hands, grinning when she read it.

"Ha! I didn't think Banner had it in him." She handed the note back and winked at her friend. "Stop looking so bewildered, Clint, you look like a blushing virgin."

The archer blinked. "I'm just a little surprised. That's not something I'd expect Bruce to say. Hell, this is only the second time he's mentioned our, uh, late-night activities away from one of our rooms."

"Huh." Natasha looked thoughtful. "And the other time?"

Clint shrugged. "I got a note like this one, inviting me to dinner in his rooms. We had dinner, Tash. It was like a date."

"And?"

"And? And we aren't dating. We're just fucking. There's a big difference."

Natasha nodded seriously. "Okay. But did you like having dinner with him?"

"I suppose."

"Was it in any way romantic?"

Clint thought back to that night, where they curled up eating Chinese food on Bruce's couch for a good hour before they even got around to kissing.

"Yes?" It was like a question. "It sort of was."

"And Bruce suggested it. I'd say that you two should just admit there are feelings involved and start properly dating."

Clint's jaw dropped! "We can't do that! What feelings? No! Just friends."

The redhead sighed. "Go have fun with Bruce, Clint. But trust me, I'm right. You guys have feelings and you won't be able to deny it for long."

You don't smile enough. You have a nice smile.

Clint grinned and tucked the note into his pocket before Natasha could notice. Maybe he was acting like a love-struck teenage girl, but these notes were getting more and more frequent and maybe he was feeling a little for the doctor.
Just the thought of Bruce made him smile these days, and even Thor- notoriously oblivious to, well, everything- had commented on how happy Clint was these days.

When Thor had said this, Natasha had looked incredibly smug and sent Bruce a wink that Clint did not miss.

Take me out tonight?

Clint stared at the note for a few moments, before pulling out his phone and sending Bruce a text.

Take you out? Like a date? –C

He waited for a few tense minutes for a reply.

Yes. Exactly like a date. –B

Clint bit his bottom lip as he replied.

I'll be out the front at seven. See you then. –C

I enjoyed last night. We should go out to dinner more often.

You're sort of obvious when you stare. Tony's been asking about you. He's onto us.

Your hair is cute when it's rumpled, just so you know.

Tony officially knows. He saw surveillance footage from the training room when we "christened" it yesterday. I should probably be embarrassed.

It had been six months since Bruce and Clint had first slept together. Four months since the first note in Clint's quiver. Two months since their first date proper date, and they'd had two since.

They were in the shooting range, Bruce content with watching his lover training, appreciating the view. He smiled as he slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and scrawled a quick message onto it, before slipping it into Clint's quiver.

When Clint reached for another arrow, his fingers instead met paper. He looked at Bruce, who was wearing an exaggerated innocent expression, and opened it.

I love you.

Clint's jaw dropped. He reread it. And reread it. And looked at Bruce. Then reread it again.

Then he dropped the paper, walked over to Bruce's chair, and pulled the other man up into a rough kiss.

"Yeah," Clint breathed when he had to surface for air. "I love you, too."