Possibly the shortest fanfiction I have ever written, just a little ficlet swirling in the back of my mind. Ever since the Avengers movie, I have shipped Clint and Natasha so hard, therefore I was very happy when I wrote this down on my phone in the dead of night. Enjoy. Xx
Disclaimer: Not me. If I owned this Clint and Natasha (and Jeremy and Scarlett for that matter) would be married with babies. But that hasn't happened. Hopefully what I've written will prompt them to start something?
-When Clint asks me, we're in our Manhattan apartment, the two of us curled up on the double bed. It's a nice kind of place: walls slick in cream paint, each pair of curtains covered in faded embroidered flowers, two decent sized bedrooms. The television stutters as I flick channels aimlessly, the pouring rain on the building's satellite dish making the colours on screen blend together to form a fuzzy greenish blue. I sigh and throw the remote to the end of the bed, fold myself up into Clint's side a little bit more. Suddenly he gently pushes my arms away and stands.
"I'll be right back." he says simply, smiles, and exits the bedroom. I sit up on the mattress; my legs tucked under me, and frown. I am wearing a dress- odd for someone like me, but Pepper wants me to start wearing them more- a Laura Ashley type; plain black decorated with lighter floral patterns. Clint likes it; he says I look 'girly'. He knows I don't enjoy looking 'girly'; he's only taking the piss. It's knee-length and I keep unconsciously pulling the skirt further over my shins- something Pepper will surely scold me for. Minutes pass and I start to get restless, shuffling on the bed to find a comfier position and having no such luck.
Just as I make the decision to search for the missing Clint myself, he returns. He's changed his outfit; from grey slacks and a blue shirt, to neatly ironed trousers and a tailored jacket- with the same blue shirt. I frown softly and laugh almost in confusion at his wardrobe change, but the poised expression he holds causes me to sober up. He looks intently down at me for a long moment, and then cracks a wonky smile. I stand and walk towards him, raising my hands in a silent question.
"Wha-?" I begin, but he hushes me and sets me down on the bed. Noticing my immediate discomfort, he readjusts the black fabric of the dress over my knees. I smile gratefully at the decreased amount of skin on show, and will him to continue. He stays silent for another moment and I feel annoyance bubbling in my gut. He won't allow me to talk, then doesn't himself?
Then he speaks and I'm so glad he does.
"Natasha. I don't know what to say." He laughs awkwardly and ruffles his hair, as he moves to crouch in front of me. The sight of him clad in a suit, bent down at my feet jolts my brain into full swing and, with wide eyes, I realise what he is doing.
"I love you." he settles for and chuckles. "I always have." His accent twangs at his words and I can't help but smirk.
"I want to spen-" I push my finger against his lips to stop him and hurt crosses his face. I cup his cheeks with my hands and whisper,
"Get on with it, Barton."
He laughs happily and shifts onto one knee.
"Nat, will you marry me?"
I pause and tap my finger against my chin mockingly, pretending it is difficult to make a decision when the answer is already swirling in my head. Clint's smile droops a little, and when it does I pounce forward. We tumble to the floor of our Manhattan apartment, and as I loop my arms around his neck. We curl into eachother on the worn cream carpet and I say proudly,
"I'd made my choice long before now, Hawk. Yes."