AN: Okay, so I saw pictures of Jeremy Renner wearing glasses (on tumblr) and out came this. :)
Pair: Clintasha, really really brief
Disclaimer: Everything that seems familiar belongs to Marvel, I don't make any money with this story.
He had known about the necessity to get glasses for a long time. It was not surprising, either. After all, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Clint "Hawkeye" Barton was thought as the best archer of the century. And of course his excuse for always hanging in the rafters ("I see better from a distance.") was more than just an excuse – it was a truthful evaluation of his eyesight.
But Clint had managed to get through life fairly well so far without having glasses. With his participation in the Avengers initiative, however, the amount of time he spent on the shooting range or in the field doubled and with it doubled the time he focused on one small point in far distance. And while him and the team avenged the cruelties done to humanity, his eyes avenged the crimes he had done to them.
Three month after the first official Avengers mission, a trip to the optician was no longer avoidable.
As soon as Clint stepped out of the eye specialist's office, he took the new corrective glasses off and put on his normal sunglasses. Back in the Avengers, formally Stark, Tower he pushed the case with the medical glasses very far down his sock drawer.
Naturally, Natasha found them there. Completely by accident, of course. "I was just looking for your pair of woolen, comfy socks because my feet were cold." As if the feet of a woman born in the Russian taiga would get cold.
But she kept silent about the glasses, something Clint was very thankful for. He thought the optical aid to be extremely uncool. They were for old, half blind and equally deaf people. Or for scholars, bookish people with multiple degrees, like Bruce. Not for him; his eyesight was part of his name, part of the image her presented.
The files for their next mission arrived soon after and Clint once again noticed his disability to read the print outs unless he held the paper at arm length away from him. But he was not ready to reveal his weakness yet, so he excused himself to his room to read there.
As he was about halfway through, a knock on the door interrupted him. With one swift motion, he removed the glasses from his eyes and buried them under some papers.
"Come in." he called and to his surprise, Natasha entered the room.
She sat down next to him on the bed, cross-legged in their usual mutual intimacy around each other. After a quick lock around, her trained (and flawlessly working) eyes spotted the glasses under the papers and she fished them out.
"Why don't you wear them?" she asked, but Clint just shook his head.
"I look ridiculous, Tasha." But she was not giving up.
"Put them on. I wanna see." she commanded.
"No, really…"
Natasha crocked her eyebrows. "Do you want me to force you?" Clint sighed.
He surrendered under her gaze and put the rimless glasses on his nose. Immediately, he felt discomfort. Slight pressure in unusual places, the feeling of something being in the way of his vision and the altogether fear they could slide down.
Natasha took one look up and down on him. Then she shrugged, bent over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"You know, needing glasses for reading does not make you any less able to be S.H.I.E.L.D.'s one and only hawk." With that, she left the room.
The next morning found a bespectacled Clint reading the newspaper comfortably without squinting. As Tony walked in last on the breakfast round, he was ready to make a comment, but Bruce silenced him with a smack on the arm. Steve had just smiled when Clint took out the glasses. But the best reaction came from Natasha, who simply settled on saying:
"I think you look hot."