Clint Barton's POV

"I don't understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine's Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon."

- Unknown

The name's Barton. Clint Barton.

Insert eyebrow wiggle here.

I've been tasked, by my very good friend Samantha, to write the next entry. And what an honor this is. I've always envied the little blue journal she's been writing in and passing around. I mean, seriously, how did Thor get a part before me? He hardly even speaks normal English!

It was Monday, the day after Tony, Steve and Sam had returned from that glorious camping trip of theirs that I wasn't invited to (thanks, guys. I'm really feeling the love). The only thing there had been to report was Natasha's rescue, and that she knew all that crap about what our enemies were doing. We were finally getting back on the right track.

I was standing in the kitchen, drinking tea when Sam hobbled in on her broken leg. She took my leftover hot water and poured it into a mug, adding a teabag to it and letting it rest. She was impatient, though: she kept tapping her fingers against the counter and bouncing her leg up and down.

"What're you so nervous about?" I asked. I was Hawkeye: I couldn't stand not knowing something.

"Um, just excited. About this evening," she answered absentmindedly, staring at the wall clock.

"Why?"

"Uh . . ." she blushed. "I have a date."

Oh, right, I thought. With Steve. She had told me about her feelings for him during our chat that morning — mutual feelings, apperently.

Janet Van Dyne suddenly descended upon us from out of nowhere. She squealed, grabbing Sam's tea-free hand and bouncing up and down. "How exciting!" she smiled at Sam, kind of freaking her out. "Can I help you get ready? Please? Pretty pretty please? With a cherry on top?"

"Uh . . . sure?" Sam responded, but it sounded more like a question.

"YAY!" Janet squealed, looking like she was going to explode with happiness. Seemed to me she was more excited about the date than Sam was.

Hank Pym and Janet were practically always at Tony's now. It was as if they had moved in. And even though they weren't Avengers, Tony let them stay, mainly because they (well, Hank) were helping out so much.

Janet was an odd woman. I'm not really sure how she got to marry Hank, who was her complete opposite. She was a fashion designer and socialite with the brain of a high school teenager — even Sam acted older than her. Janet was short, with dark black hair in a pixie cut and pale skin. Everything about her was just so bubbly and lively. It kind of frightened me.

Hank was quite different from his wife. From what I'd heard, he was one of the greatest minds in science nowadays, aside from Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and Reed Richards. He was serious and quiet, with blonde hair and a very prominent jawline. Hank spent almost all his time in the lab, working on that Makluan science stuff. At the moment, though, he was trying to figure out the Mandarin's teleporter.

Speaking of the devil, Hank walked into the room then, with Tony and Bruce following behind. "Team meeting, please?" Hank said loudly, gathering us all around the coffee table in the TV room.

"Hey, since when are you calling the team meetings?" Tony said crossly. "You're not even an Avenger. I'm the one who gets to call the Avengers. AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!" he shouted, even though everyone was already there.

Hank sighed, rolling his eyes. "Okay, I have a minor breakthrough with the Mandarin's teleportation device," he said. "But don't get too excited. It's not much."

As I looked at him, a thought struck me. Hank Pym. Natasha had been investigating a case for S.H.I.E.L.D about "Pym Particles." Some scientist had developed a way to grow smaller and bigger at will. I wondered if said scientist had been Hank. Probably — there weren't too many "Pym"s in the world.

"The technology that the teleporter used was not Makluan," he said, tapping a long sheet filled with text. "It was definitely man- or machine-made. I recognize it as the technology that, uh, a close friend of mine used once. Basically, I think it's safe to assume the Mandarin was working with someone else. Someone who possessed this sort of technology."

"We already knew that," Tony said crossly, probably a bit peeved that Hank had figured something out before him.

"Uh, well, yeah," Hank stuttered. "But this is . . . this is proof."

"How is this proof? A moment ago, you were making it sound like an assumption," Bruce cut it. "Besides, we already have Natasha's eyewitness account."

"Yeah, but — well, this is Ultron's technology."

"And how do you know that?" Bruce pressed.

"Maybe he got his information from that Ant-Man guy. And Wasp," Natasha suggested in that I'm-cornering-you way of hers.

"No, it wasn't them," Janet, of all people, chimed in.

"Jan, we're not talking about them right now," Hank shot her a look.

"No, I really think we should be talking about them right now," Tony interjected.

"Yeah," I felt like adding my own two cents. "How come you haven't done any research whatsoever about those two costumed people?"

Tony was now staring hard at Hank. "You know, you have a similar voice to Ant-Man's," he said slowly, as if putting the puzzle pieces together in his head.

"And you look like that Wasp chick," Sam's eyes were wide as she looked at Janet, whose face was now red as she looked to her husband.

"PYM PARTICLES!" I stood up and shouted, putting it all together. "You — he — it — they — you —"

"You two are Ant-Man and Wasp, aren't you?" Tony accused, standing up beside me to look down on the couple.

Janet looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, but Hank was the opposite. "Actually yes, we are," he crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "I invented something called Pym Particles — it allows me and Jan to shrink and grow in size. Due to more scientific tests and mutations," he glared up at Tony, "Jan grows wings from her back whenever she shrinks, and can shoot energy beams out of her hands. That helmet you saw me wearing wasn't just part of the costumtoolkit her — it enables me to talk with ants. I invented it."

Everyone stared at them, dumbfounded as things started to fall into place. "That's why a huge horde of ants got all that rubble off me! You were telling them to save me!" Sam gasped.

"Yeah, and that's why ants carted off Clint," Captain added. "It explains why you knew so much about what happens after someone only goes through half the disintegration process — it was you who took the blood samples from Clint."

"Uhh, who are Ant-Man and Wasp?" Thor asked, but everyone ignored him.

"I can't believe you two are homemade superheroes," Tony had practically gone into shock. "Hank! And Janet! Superheroes!" he ran a hand through his hair.

I simply shrugged. "Meh. I saw it coming."

"What are we going to do with you?" Tony asked, sitting back down and shaking his head to himself.

It was the Captain, of course, who took the lead. "I vote we let them stay. They've already been helping a lot. Besides, we could use extra supers around here."

"Yeah, but we don't know if they're trustworthy," Tony shot back.

"I've been your best friend for ten years, and now you're deeming me untrustworthy?" Hank raised an eyebrow.

"You neglected to tell me about Pym Particles and your ant-ness!"

"You didn't tell me you were Iron Man at first, either!"

"That's different."

"How the — what? How is that different?"

"Okay, everyone, just calm down," Bruce got up and stood between Hank and Tony. "Does anyone know Hank and Janet well enough to trust them?"

Tony reluctantly raised his hand. "I guess they could be an asset to the team," he grumbled. "They already know practically all our secrets, anyway."

"Let's have a vote: who wants Hank and Janet to help us with this Mandarin case as Ant-Man and Wasp?" Bruce asked. Everyone slowly put up their hand for the "yes" option.

"It's decided then," Bruce clapped his hands. "You two are honorary, temporary members of the Avengers."

"YESSS!" Janet jumped up, squealing. "Yes yes yes! Thank you, everyone!" she smiled brightly, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"You're going to have to show us what you can do, though," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Excitedly, Janet raised her hands and, much like Tony and Sam did, shot a burst of energy out from her palms. It went straight through the window, cutting a clean hole in the glass.

"Not now, you moron!" Tony yelled.

"Hey! Don't talk to my wife that way," Hank stood up, glaring down at Tony.

"What are you going to do? Get a bunch of ants to crawl down my throat and shut me up?"

"TONY! Control your ego!" Sam smacked him on the leg. "Every time there's some new sort of variable in the room — like Steve a few months ago — you start acting all weird," she scolded.

"Ooookay," I drew out the word. "Meeting over. There are just way too many different personalities in this room."

Sam glanced at the time on her phone screen. "Shit, I have to get ready," she swore. Janet jumped to her feet, following Sam out of the room to her bedroom like a lost puppy.

"Uh, yeah. I have to go, too," Steve inched away. Thor walked around awkwardly without any real place to go, like he had been doing for the past few days, as Hank and Bruce headed back towards the lab. Tony went over to the minibar, pouring himself a tall glass of vodka.

"You ever had your best friend tell you they're a weird-ass superhero?" he asked me.

"Uh, no."

"Oh. Well, it's quite a shock to the system."

"I gathered."

"Tell me, Clint," Tony swirled the drink around in its glass, "what do you think of this whole Mandarin mess?"

". . . I'm just glad Natasha's back," I responded truthfully.

"Huh. Good answer," Tony frowned.

We snacked in silence for a long time, each of us lost in our own little world of thoughts. Our trances were broken by Steve, who walked into the room wearing a suit and tie.

"Look, it's the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan," Tony said mockingly. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Um. A suit," Steve looked nervous. "What do you think?"

"I think why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you wearing a suit!"

"I, uh, have a date," Steve said uncomfortably, and looked at the ground.

"And why am I only hearing of this now?" Tony snapped, getting up and walking towards Steve.

"I didn't think it really mattered to you," he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

Tony clapped him on the back "Of course it matters! I can't believe Steven Rogers actually got a girl in this day and age! What'd you do, threaten to bore her to death with your World War Two stories if she didn't go out with you?"

"That's Tony's way of saying congratulations," I sauntered over, clapping him in the back. "Congrats though, Steve. I gotta admit, even I never saw this coming."

"Thanks for the confidence, guys," Steve said sarcastically. "I'm really feeling the love here."

"Now you sound like Sam," Tony grinned. "But seriously, what's up with the suit? You taking her to a funeral?"

"Uh . . ."

"Honestly, this is just pitiful," he shook his head. "Where's Janet? She's the fashion guru; she'll know what you should be wearing. Anyone know where Jan is?"

"She's helping Sam get ready for a date," I shrugged.

Tony's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Sam has a date too? Why is this the first I'm hearing about any of this?" he looked ready to throw a tantrum. "Are you and Sam double-dating, or something? No, wait. I bet she has an actual date, and you're just supposed to keep her date's sister entertained. Ah? Ah?" he elbowed Steve in the ribs.

But judging by the growing redness on Steve's face, I could tell it was something different. "Uh, Tony . . ."

Finally, Tony figured it out. I mean, it certainly took him long enough. "Wait a minute," he narrowed his eyes, taking a step back. "SAM'S your date!"

Steve's immediate blush and glance towards the floor was all the answer Tony needed.

"Okay, that's it, we're getting you out of this suit. RIGHT NOW. Clint, come help me find something appropriate for Steve to wear," Tony began pushing the blonde soldier out of the room, towards his bedroom. "You should wear jeans, Steve. Jeans and a t-shirt. Maybe a concert tee. And ditch the forties hair."

"I like his hair," I tilted my head to the side, rummaging through Tony's closet as we stepped into his room. "It's very forties-style."

"Exactly!"

"Sam likes his old-fashioned-ness."

"Yeah, but she's a modern girl. She doesn't want to go out with someone who's dressed like her grandpa," Tony shot back, sitting a dumbstruck Steve down on the bed. "Wait, I've got it. You asked Sam out during camping, when I sent you two off while I made dinner," Tony snapped his fingers. Steve nodded, almost afraid to speak. "I knew you liked her!" Tony grinned. "I just didn't think you'd have enough balls to actually do anything about it!"

"You think this is what Jan's doing for Sam?" I asked randomly, pulling an old pair of Tony's slacks out of the back of the closet. "Like, sitting her down and forcing her to try things on?"

"No, no," Tony headed into the bathroom, looking for a clean toothbrush. "I'm sure whatever Sam's going through, it's much worse. How much you wanna bet that she's going to turn up in a short, tight dress and heels?"

"I bet you twenty bucks she won't wear that," I grinned over my shoulder.

"Deal. You'd better get ready to pay, Clint," Tony teased. "You don't know Janet like I do. She's going to get Sam into the most provocative thing she can find. Besides, I think Sam's a girly-girl at heart." He shoved a toothbrush into Steve's mouth and forced him to brush.

"Five dollars says her hair will be curled."

"Sure. And ten that she'll be wearing half of Sephora's make-up counter."

"Fifteen that Janet and Sam are placing bets on what Steve's going to wear," I snickered.

"Okay, this is ridiculous—" Steve started, but Tony shut him up by ripping Steve's jacket, shirt and tie off.

"Here, try this shirt," he said, thrusting a pile of fabric into Steve's hands.

"And these pants," I threw another bundle at him.

"Can't I just wear my own clothes?"

"NO," Tony and I said at the same time.

After six different shirt changes and three pairs of pants, Tony and I were finally satisfied with our work. Steve wore blue jeans (it was a strange sight, let me tell you) and a tight dark-green t-shirt. We broke and let him wear his brown leather jacket.

"You know, I'm not actually dressed in anything that much different than normal—" he started, but Tony and I both shut him up with a look.

We paraded him out into the living room, feeling a sense of pride in our work. Thor actually did a double take. "Steven Rogers, you look almost . . ."

"Modern?" Tony added in helpfully. "That's the idea."

We had a few minutes to kill before Sam came out from her room. Tony decided to spend that time asking awkward questions. "So . . ." he started off, wiggling his eyebrows. "You and Sam . . ."

Steve unfortunately couldn't use the "we're just friends" excuse anymore.

"Have you guys gone out any other times without my knowledge?" Tony narrowed his eyes inquisitively.

"Um, this is our first date," Steve sat ramrod straight.

A thought suddenly occurred to Tony. "Is this your first date? Like, ever? With anyone?"

"I've gone on double dates with Bucky before," Steve's face twitched hopefully. "And I asked Peggy out, but we never, well . . . never got to go out . . ."

Tony started laughing. "This is dear old Cap's first date!" he howled, finding it hilarious for some reason.

Okay, I'll admit it: I laughed a bit, too.

"I wasn't much to look at, back then," Steve shrugged defensively. "Besides, with a friend like Bucky always at my side, the girls never even glanced my way."

"Have you kissed anyone?" asked Tony, howling with laughter.

Steve beamed proudly. "Well yes, actually."

"Oh, thank God," gasped Tony, trying to regain his breath. "The dating thing is pretty basic though, Steve. Even you should be able to get it down easily."

"Hey!"

"No offense, my man. Basically you take her out. Tell her how pretty she is. Make boring small talk until she invites you back to her place, or vice versa. Then you two get down and dirty, and voilà! You leave in the morning without even saying goodbye. Comprende?"

Steve looked downright horrified.

"Don't listen to Tony," I shook my head, moving to stand in front of Steve. "It's simple, really. You tell her how pretty she looks, and keep complimenting her throughout the evening. You drive; you pay for everything. About halfway through the date, reach out and hold her hand while you're walking. If you really like her, then intwine your fingers."

"You sound like a sappy tween gossip magazine," Tony yawned.

"Hey, I get bored in grocery store check-out lines, okay?" I turned back to Steve. "Make sure to keep the conversation focused on her. Girls seem to like that. And do gentlemanly things, like opening the car door for her."

"He's Steve Rogers. He does that anyway."

"Shut up, Tony. Anyway, make sure to walk her right up to her door after the date's over. Or, in this case, down the hall before you go to your room. Then, if the date went well and you want to see her again, give her a quick kiss on the lips. Emphasis on quick! No making out. And sometimes girls don't like it when you kiss them on the lips on the first date, so watch for the signs."

"Hey, I just realized something," Tony tapped his foot. "We should stop calling you Hawkeye, and start calling you Cupid. You've already got the bow and arrows, and now it seems like you're the expert at playing matchmaker, too."

"He's doing a better job of explaining than you are," Steve defended me.

"Call me Cupid one more time and I'll personally make sure you never get another girlfriend in your life," I growled.

Just then, Tony's attention was diverted to something over my shoulder, and I turned to see Janet walking down the hall with Sam. I heard Steve's breath catch in his throat when he saw her. God, that guy had it bad.

Her hair was curled, and her make-up, though minimal, was impeccably done (Janet's work, of course). Sam was wearing salmon-colored skirt that ended at her knees, exposing her leg cast, along with a white tank-top and a jean jacket. On her feet were simple ballet flats.

"Don't comment on my hair or makeup!" she squeaked when Steve stood up from where he was sitting on the couch. "Janet did it. Please don't say anything," she held her hands in front of her face.

"Sam, you look . . ." Steve trailed off, checking her out. He caught me eye, and I urged him on with a nod of my head. ". . . Beautiful."

"Okay, I'm getting out of here before this turns overly mushy," Tony announced loudly, ruining the moment.

"Ah ah ah!" I snapped, turning towards him. "If my calculations are correct, you owe me . . . thirty-five dollars."

"You guys were placing bets?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised with a dangerous look in her eye — but then to everyone's surprise, she turned and walked out of the room.

"Did she just . . ." Tony's mouth was open.

"Did Sam just ask a question and then leave? Why yes, she did," I replied. "It's a bad habit of hers. Better get used to it." Tony rolled his eyes.

Steve took a deep breath, looked to us for confidence, and then walked out after her. I couldn't help but wish them luck on their first date.

And hey, maybe playing Cupid wasn't so bad.


Author's Note: So obviously, the next chapter will be their date :)

I don't own anything, except maybe Sam and my story ideas.

Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter, and thank you to the great people who reviewed: Laurafxox, Comiccrazygothgirl, TA-TwinArmageddons, Selvet, jaa162, PJ-NCIS-TF-26, ClarinetRox88, 16, StarViky and LianaDare8! Thanks to everyone for all your kind words :3

Until next time, guys, and don't forget to leave a review, telling me what you think! As always, READERS ASSEMBLE!

- Lexi