Legitimately waited as long as I could to post this.. Can't wait anymore!
Halfway through! Now things can start! :3 Think this is the last Clint view chapter until chapter 10. So, enjoy it while it lasts!

Review please! I like reviews! They make me make a weird sounds and fills me with happy feels!

REVIEWERS!

Niom Lamboise; My dear, thank you. My muse went a little bit mental on this chapter and I just love it. I love these two way too much and just never thought to put them together so I seriously have to thank you for getting my ass in gear to write this! I'm glad you're enjoying it, I really am, and I hope I updated quick enough for you :P

Disclaimer! Tara; *Leaves*
Pietro; *Looks around* Emm.. Think it's up to you and me now, Barton. She seriously does not own us or anything to do with Marvel, trust me. If she did then this chapter would be in the movies already, right Clint?
Clint; *Nods* Definitely. She got all squishy at how cute she thought I was in this chapter. So, if she owned Marvel, she'd definitely have that Renner guy act this out for cuteness overload.
Pietro; Well.. She did get the you being way too cute thing spot on..
Clint; ... *Aims an arrow at Pietro* Smooth little bastard..

That little punk was driving him mad..

He couldn't help storming out of the training room, because it was either that or lose his shit all together and kill the kid.

Over reacted? Perhaps. But it's how he was brought up. How he was trained to react. Fight or flight instinct, and he never chose the flight.

Most fancy head-doctor folk would tell you that the fight or flight instinct only really ever kicks in during danger or times you feel trapped. Barton did feel trapped. Everytime he was around the kid, everytime he was that close, everytime he had the chance and excuse to put his hands on that too perfect to be natural body..

Every single time he was left alone with Pietro, he felt trapped.

"Shit.." He murmured to himself out in the hall, letting a hand rest against the wall to support himself as he stared at the floor.

The trapped feeling was new. It wasn't the same as when he'd have fights with his father and be too afraid to leave his room. Not like when he'd be taken by Hydra or be stuck in a building with an army of drug mules firing at him. This wasn't a feeling that would race across the network in his brain, telling him to do something or he'd die. This was a feeling that would start in his chest and spread through his whole body until there was nothing but the warm, near adrenaline level feeling remaining.

This trapped feeling was one no amount of fight or flight would be able to get rid of, no matter how much he tried work it out of his system in training.

It started a few days ago, the day he woke up in a state of pure peace and comfort, surrounded by his scent. No, that was a lie, this feeling, this fire, started long before that. It started off as a slow burn whenever Pietro laughed at something he said, a laugh tinged with his accent that was just so Pietro. A laugh that, when heard for the first time by his damaged ears, just screamed the definition of musical perfection.

It moved into a wave of warmth that flooded through his veins whenever Pietro gave him that stupid smile, no, it was never a smile, more like a smirk, a half tilt of the lips that would stop everything in it's tracks. The sort of cocky smirk that he'd see when he'd knock Clint on his ass, the sort of smirk he'd see when he was celebrating over getting a large word right after struggling through a number of similar English words to find it. The smirk that would appear when he was around his sister, when he tried some new food, when he watched a movie he liked. Never a smile, it was too perfect to be called a smile.

It spread through every fibre and ounce of his being when he saw Pietro with a five o'clock shadow, and he couldn't figure out why that set him off more than anything else. He was human, this guy who he'd train with, this guy that had Barton up most nights wondering how such perfection could exist, got stubble just like he did. It proved, beyond anything, that this kid wasn't a kid, that's what had him so riled up. He called him kid, saw him as young, but then he'd stumble out of his room after a late night with stubble that just made him look so much older, so much better, and it had Clint having to stop himself reaching out to run his hand along his cheek every time.

Now it seemed to envelop him in a haze of warmth, as if he was wrapped in a large blanket each and every time Pietro did something remotely, well, Pietro like. It spread like wild fire when it looked like he needed someone, anyone, to let him know life wasn't all bad and that he had someone who cared for him. Be it a small laugh the he'd quickly conceal, something flashing across his eyes that told Clint the ghosts of Hydra still haunted his life. Be it the fear in his eyes when he'd startle awake from a nap, or the look on his face when he'd mess up a move set the archer would show him in training. It would spread through his body most of all when he'd get that puppy look, the look that shows he's been through so much that someone his age shouldn't have even dreamed of being put through.

It was love.

He had never felt it so much before, never experienced it to such a heart stopping and body melting degree. He loved Natasha. He loved his mother. He loved his arrows, he loved his farm, he loved his dog, he loved Wanda, hell he even loved Tony.

But this was different. This wasn't what he thought the definition of love was. This was something that would stop him in his tracks each and every day and have him acting like a teenager with a damn crush. This had his mind wandering, this had him worrying to new levels, this had him re-evaluating everything he did and everything he said because he knew that he had to think about not only how it would effect him, but how it would effect the damn kid that had found his way inside the archer.

And Clint found himself hating it. He hated loving someone.

He hated how Pietro made him feel, hated how the kid made everything in his day to day life revolve around his welfare. He hated how he couldn't stop thinking of that damn smirk, couldn't stop hearing that laugh whenever the bad times would take him to the deepest darkest pits of his mind. He hated how being in the same room as Pietro gave him peace like no other. Hated how all he wanted to do each night was crawl in bed and lay beside him, not touching, not even talking, just being.

He hated how the guy had found his way into his heart. He had tried for so long to keep that closed off, and now the quick little bastard was well and truly nestled in there.

He let out a sigh and gave the wall one quick punch, letting the stinging feeling envelope his whole hand and slowly spread up his arm. He let it try it's best to wash away that trapped feeling, wash away that warmth that plastered that stupid grin on his face.

He focused on it rather than the speedster as he walked the rest of the hall and got to his room.

A quick shower should help calm him down. Should help get his thoughts in check, should help clear his mind.

He hated loving someone. It was as simple as that. He couldn't love someone. If he loved someone, it left himself open to hurt. It exposed a nerve that anyone could poke and prod at, it exposed him as a human and not as an assassin. It exposed his heart. It compromised him. And anyone would tell you, once you're compromised, that's it. There's no second chance.

He needed to put some barriers back up otherwise he'd be in a very dangerous situation!

"My ears must deceive me! Maria Hill paying us a visit?"

"Uh-oh.. Here's trouble.."

He gave a slight chuckle at Hill's reply, stepping fully into the living area to see the one and only deputy-director of SHIELD standing by the back of the sofa talking with his partner. Both ladies shot him an amused smile, probably because he was topless and they always loved poking fun at him for anything they could. He was ruffling out his wet hair with a towel as he approached the pair.

Maria was a good friend, though both their schedules and lives kept them apart for long periods at a time. She was there when he was brought into SHIELD, she helped train him, helped him get his footing. She was one of the main reasons he had a chance, besides Coulson, and along with his handler she was one of the only people to not completely blank him and want him dead for bringing Natasha in rather than killing the Russian.

Most of all, she was his partner in crime. Not in the Natasha Romanoff 'Lets kill some bad guys and bust down some bases!' sense of the word, but rather in the the 'Lets change all the commands in Fury's office so everytime he asks for his office to be locked down Star Spangled Man With A Plan plays!' kind of sense. Honestly, she was the only reason he stays sane while on base!

He rushed over with a smirk when he saw a folder in her hand, and she knew what was coming. He never asked to look, never gave pleasantries. He just went over and tried snatch it from her hands, which always resulted in a little wrestling match between the pair.

"An easy mission, I hope." Clint laughed as he tried get out of a head lock she currently had him in. Natasha had given up waiting as soon as it started, knowing these little reunion moments lasted a while. She was now just sitting on the sofa, talking with Wanda and Pietro.

"Who says it's a mission, Francis?" She teased. His head was locked to a position where all he could do was stare at her feet, but he could hear the smirk in her voice as she spoke.

"I says! You only ever come see me when I can do something for you, cause you're a bitch like th- AH!" His sentence was cut off by a rough noogie, the hold her arm held on his tightening a little bit as he fist scratched his scalp.

"Don't be calling your superior a bitch, you bitch!" She laughed, finally pushing him off and kicking his ass before he could straighten up.

When he did finally stand properly, he stood to attention and saluted.

"Sorry ma'am! Won't happen again, Deputy-Director sexy ass!"

"Awh, you always were a charmer, Hawkeye!" She grinned, patting his cheek gently before nodding to the sitting area for them to sit.

He turned on his heels to follow Hill, but had to pause for a moment when he saw Pietro peeking over the back of the sofa. He was giving the pair a look he's never seen on the kid before, but Clint couldn't really decipher it because Pietro quickly turned back to face the proper way when he realised Clint noticed him.

It wasn't hurt, he's seen that on him before. Annoyance was definitely seen during those times they'd have run in's during the Ultron attack. It was a vacant look, and he held a frown that really didn't suit his face at all.

Clint shook the thoughts from his mind. He only just got those barriers back up, he couldn't have them ripped down again.

He draped the towel he was using over his bare shoulders as Maria went to sit on the coffee table, so she was able to face Natasha. She handed Romanoff the folder with a sly smile to Clint, he just rolled his eyes at her actions and hunched down behind the sofa so he could read over his partners shoulders.

"An easy mission." Maria said to start things off, answering Clint's earlier question for him. "Nothing the great Strike team Delta can't handle."

"Man, I was hoping for some fun." Clint said quietly, too busy reading the documents in the folder as Natasha skimmed through them.

"Sorry Hawk. Next time." Hill simply replied, continuing on then to fill them in on what had to be done. "Co-ordinates to one of the last Hydra bases operating in Europe are in there. All the main heads will be there since all the others were pretty much destroyed by you two and Cap."

"Why can't he go instead?" Clint pouted, looking up to his boss as she shrugged with a slight smirk.

"He's too busy chasing down his missing person so he asked me to get you two." She shrugged, her arms folding across her chest then. "Thought you'd be itching for a mission. Getting lazy in your old age?"

"Oh, suck a lemon." He laughed, taking the folder from Natasha when she was done reading to get a closer look.

"What do you need us to do?" Natasha asked with a sigh, but he already figured it was the usual intel grabbing then blowing up.

"What you two do best. Get as much information on any future plans and projects, then make sure it's taken off the face of the earth."

See? Told you!

It's what the team of Hawkeye and Black Widow are known for. If a mission was passed to them, especially if it was Captain America; number one 'I'm the one who takes out Hydra bases!' guy on the planet passing it along, that meant it was a job that she could get the info on and he could blow up some assholes.

"Alright!" He grinned, snapping the folder shut and throwing it on the table next to Hill. Natasha stood up and stretched, she didn't seem the happiest about being dragged into a mission but they always accepted these things! "Give me twenty minutes to get stuff done then we can be airborne."

"Never knew you could last that long, Barton." Hill said with a teasing smirk, and he simply shot her a middle finger.

"Just the losers you pick who can't! I'm a stallion!" He grinned, earning a laugh from all three ladies in the room.

Pietro was way too quiet, not a peep from him when Barton thought he'd be the first to offer a snappy retort. He looked to the kid and gave him a slight smile, worried now that the look he had on was because he thought they weren't alright after the incident in the gym.

He ruffled Pietro's hair as he passed, leaving the room then to go get himself packed up. They were fine, they really were. Or, at least, on Clint's end they were fine. He wasn't mad or upset with Pietro. It was just a moment of anger, a build up of too many feelings that needed to be released the only way he knew how. It was just dumb luck that Pietro was the one there to be taken out on.

He'd apologise to the kid. He owed him that much, because really, Pietro did nothing. Sure, he was messing around during training, a time when Clint liked being 100% focused, but Hill could probably tell a million and one stories of a young Agent Barton being the exact same. It was no reason to snap, absolutely no excuse, so he owed Pietro an apology.

Bag was all packed, good old SHIELD issued mission gear was on, so he was packing up some arrows when the knock came on the door, but he was a little busy sorting through his quiver to get up and open it.

"Unless it's Hill looking for a booty call, come on in." He called with a slight smile, convinced it was his boss making sure he remembered some sort of arrow or she needed to give him some special detail he ran out of debrief without knowing.

The door opened and closed too softly for him to hear it, because when he looked up from his quiver to see if the person would come in, he could see Pietro standing awkwardly against it. The kid was looking everywhere but at the archer, and it cause him to raise and eyebrow.

This shy mood was definitely new.

"You've been out a long time, Barton.." He said quietly, Clint struggled to catch the words but he managed. And it had that feeling bubbling in his chest again.

He recognised the tone immediately. He had used it so many times in the past. When Natasha would try rush into a place wounded, when Tony would work until he dropped and it was up to the archer to get him to rest. When Barney would try defend him against their father and he'd try tell him not to, when Steve would get upset over his missing best friend. All those times he'd use that tone, the tone that dripped with worry and doubt. The tone that held the fears he had for those he loved.

"Been out longer, kid." He whispered with a smile, patting the space on the bed beside him when Pietro looked up. "It's like riding a bike."

Pietro quietly crossed over the room, sitting carefully next to the archer then. Clint couldn't help but notice the space the kid left between them, but it was fine. At least he was comfortable enough with him to sit.

A silence fell upon them, and Clint took the time to finish checking his arrows and making sure they were in the right places. He was reaching for his bow to restring when he realised that Pietro's eyes were on him, and he looked to the other man's face to see him smirking at him.

Damn that smirk..

"Way too tight.." Pietro said quietly, his eyes wandering downward. Clint raised an eyebrow and followed his gaze, realising then that the kid has never seen in him the SHIELD sleeveless get up. Just the Avengers gear he used. The comment had his cheeks flushing red. "If you had some muscles, it might be sexy."

"Smart arse.." He growled, though he couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched his hands re string the bow. If he was back to flirting, then things must be fine between them. Wait.. Flirting.. He flirted alot.. "Better looking than you, kid."

"Please." Pietro scoffed, sounding closer to Clint now. Just the slightest, it was confirmed when he could feel their arms brushing against eachother. "You may be up there altight, but not at my level!"

"Yeah yeah. Call me when puberty hits, then we'll talk." Clint laughed, shaking his head before standing to put his bow with his arrows and sling the set over his back.

"Clint.. I know these guys, if all of them are in one place and.." Pietro said quietly, and Barton had a feeling it was going to be one of those 'In case you don't come back or incase something happens.' talks that he actively tries avoid. They were bad luck, so he just put up a hand with a grin to stop him.

"I'm sorry about earlier, kid." He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck when Pietro raised an eyebrow. "I bet your shoulder hurts pretty bad after that knock."

Pietro didn't reply. He just studied Clint's face, and it unnerved the archer a little. He was used to people looking at him, studying him. He was used to people trying to find something written on his face that would give away what he was truly thinking. But this was different, this wasn't like those other stares. This stare wasn't looking at the physical features of his face. It wasn't focused on the lines or pits, wasn't worried about the stubble building or the crook in his nose from the break he never let set properly. This stare was looking deeper, this stare was looking for Clint Barton behind the Hawkeye mask he held on.

His eyes.

That had to be the final bit of the raging fire that the kid managed to send through him.

Those eyes that were searching his face right now melted Barton to whole new depths. It squashed every other feeling like they were nothing but silly dreams that would never be reality. This feeling made his knees week, and he had to hold Pietro's gaze so he could burn the memory of his eyes into his mind for the foreseeable future, until he could return and see those orbs again.

Pietro was on his feet a millisecond after Clint noticed his eyes change back to worry, and he was over infront of the archer with his hands braced on each shoulder.

"You with me?" He asked calmly, and it took Barton a moment to realise he thought he was stuck in another flashback.

He shook his head clear of whatever thoughts were there and nodded with a shy smile, moving to grab his mission duffel then. "Sorry, yeah, I'm fine."

"You know, I wonder about that.." Pietro said quietly, causing Clint to raise an eyebrow. He turned back to see Pietro watching him with a frown. "If you really are fine. You have flashbacks, you have nightmares. You don't sleep well, you barely eat. You train, you have such anger, but you act like you're fine around us. I worry.."

"Don't." Clint said through a sigh, cutting Pietro off. He rubbed his face with his free hand and shook his hand. "Look, I am fine. I've been like this for years, kid. Long before you arrived, long before I came to SHIELD, hell long before you and your sister saw me in the circus. It's just who I am."

"Would you trust me enough to tell me when you can't handle things?" Pietro suddenly asked, and it caught Clint for a loop. He knew the kid cared, but this was something else. This was asking Clint to open up and to show himself on a level he was never comfortable with. Maximoff wouldn't have known that, but something must have crossed Clint's face to let him know he hit a nerve, because he was soon over infront of the archer like before.

No words this time. They just watched eachother, regarding eachother, waiting for the other to make a move and do something to break this moment.

The thing Pietro did though definitely didn't break the moment. If anything, it completely intensified it.

His hands firmly on Clint's shoulders, he leaned in, closing the gap between the pair.

His lips.

Never mind his eyes, having Clint weak at the knees. Pietro's lips had him weak all over and had every single thought that was in his mind gone. It had the fire no longer just simmering, but running wild and crazy through his body, through his soul, begging for the archer to make a move, to make the moment last forever.

He was shocked though. He was too shocked to do anything. So, while Pietro's lips were pressed against his, there was nothing he could do but stare with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

He must have sensed Clint's hesitation, or realised that his lips were stone and unmoving, because much to Clint's disappointment the kid pulled away.

"Sorry." He said quickly, taking a step back which made Clint raise an eyebrow. "Sorry, I just.. And I.. Just.."

Clint smiled a little in amusement and dropped his duffel bag. This was one of those moments, a moment where he saw who Pietro really was. Not the cocky little speedster who would steal things from his hand as he zoomed past or who'd flirt his way to oblivion, but the shy Pietro who thought he did wrong for kissing the archer, the Pietro who had self doubt and somehow thought he wasn't enough, the kid so anxious that something that was supposed to be as enjoyable as kissing had him apologising in fear of having messed up.

Clint caught his wrist before he could run off and spun him over so he fell onto the bed. In an instant, Clint was over Pietro, hands either side of Maximoff's head and their lips pressed firmly together.

He didn't freeze up like Clint did. He just as eagerly kissed the archer back, his arms slipping around the older man's neck to keep him in place.

This felt right. This felt perfect, actually. This was where Clint was supposed to be. The lost feeling that filled his soul over the past few months just disappeared. He found home in Pietro's lips, in Pietro's embrace. He found home in Pietro as a whole.

He was breathless when a knock came on the door, Natasha's warning of '5 minutes, Barton.' floating through the wood and breaking the pairs moment entirely.

They didn't move. Their faces were millimetres apart, their lips ghosting over eachother and their breathless rasps mixing together. He held Pietro's eyes, searching for any feeling, searching mainly for any doubt or regret at what just happened. But he just saw that same sparkling light he saw each day. Something should have changed in them, some sort of feeling should have taken over and changed how the look. There should be some strongers feeling, or some bad reaction simmering behind them. But there was nothing. He was the same.

He's the same..

He initiated the kiss, he flirted, he made Barton fall for him, he was looking at Clint the same way as he had been for the past few weeks, with those shimmering eyes that felt like home for the archer.

He loves you..

You idiot, he's loved you all this time and it took you this long to figure it out..

"Promise me you'll be careful.." Pietro finally whispered against Clint lips, and it caused the archer to grin and nod.

He gave the kid one more quick peck on the lips before standing up and grabbing his duffel once more.

"I'll be back to you in three days, kid." He smiled, taking one last look at Pietro as he sat up on the bed, his cheeks were flusjed and his hair was a little tussled. That was the image Clint would definitely be taking with him. "I promise."

Without another word, without giving Pietro the chance to make him completely change his mind and decline the mission, he left the room.

Barriers were gone.

Masks were thrown away.

Pietro Maximoff had completely and totally compromised him.

He made his way up the levels of the tower to the heli-pad, finding that Natasha was already waiting in the jet for him.

He'd come back. He'd get through this mission as quickly as he possibly could. He couldn't be away from Pietro for too long, even now his heart ached and they were only two minutes apart.

He sighed and set his head back against the jet wall once he sat down, letting his eyes slip closed as the feeling of Pietro's lips danced across his own.

Maybe loving someone wasn't as bad as he thought.

He loved loving someone.