A/N: Short chapter tonight, because I just feel like I have to publish SOMETHING! Ever get that feeling? Lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. If you like chapters in which Clint gets to be miserable, this is a gold mine for you ;D

Black' Victor Cachat: Yessss…Clint has some problems ;p which I think is a big part of what makes both his character, and the Fraction comics, so endearing. He's just so normal, even to the point where we can kinda question his heroism. But in the end he's trying to do what's right, so there's this point where he's starting to figure out how to not end up on the wrong side of the battle, so to speak. Thanks for your awesome reviews ^_^

Bree Colbern: I am so happy you like Natasha! My goodness, she has just become my baby, I think ;) I can't stand the idea of her never getting a chance to be a normal teenager. And I'm SUPER glad you liked that last line; I thought it was so OOC, haha. Thanks for all your wonderful support! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :D

JanelleGimbus.8: KATE IS THE BEST, AND NO ONE SHALL CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE! I'm super glad you are enjoying the story! Aww, and you are so sweet about my writing, too! Your review really made my day :D Thanks for your support!

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Chapter 4

Clint's hands would NOT stop shaking as he tied his shoelaces. How long had it been since he'd tied such—freaking—stiff—laces that were shorter than the length of the shoe itself?!

"You're kidding," he was talking out loud to himself. "What the heck are you doing, Clint?! You are actually asking a girl out to a REAL dinner, and you are going to have the nerve to ask her to marry you? Are you insane?"

Flowers—check.

His suit was only slightly crumpled—win.

He had that ring around here—somewhere. He was still experiencing doubts about it. He really wished he'd stuck with Kate's suggestion of letting Laura pick out her own ring, since he had no idea what kind of jewelry she wouldn't find annoying and in the way when wearing it on a—gulp—daily basis.

Would she?

"She said she would, you idiot," he grumbled to himself again, a bit louder this time.

To his left, Lucky barked.

Clint shook a finger in his face. "And if you say anything more about it, I'll send you back to the mafia. I'm stressed out enough as it is."

Lucky only barked again, mouth hanging open wide and drool oozing over the sides, as though he were laughing at his master.

Once upon a time, Clint had been good at this.

Well, 'good' in terms of his confidence, not necessarily in the sense that he'd done a better job. He wasn't a flowery social butterfly, not exactly. He liked people, but not in the drink-expensive-wine-together-at-a-dinner-party kind of way.

"This isn't that," he had to remind himself again, almost harshly. "Shut up and listen to yourself for a second, Barton. This is just you and Laura. Nothin' you can't pull off."

Was he really insane? Could he do this with Laura when he'd failed to do it with Bobbi?

Bobbi, who was to this day an angel adored by every SHIELD agent who came into contact with her, renowned for her skill in combat and espionage, and still one of the nicest and most perfect people Clint could ever hope to meet?

He shivered slightly, realizing that his fingers had fallen slack. He could pull this one night off—surely! The difficult question was, would he be fooling Laura or would he truly become the man who was worthy of her? He had no idea.

Clint finally managed to get his shoe tied reasonably tight, although he didn't trust it to stay that way unless he double-knotted it. He wasn't sure if it was against some sort of social protocol to double-knot dress shoe laces, but it was better than falling on his face.

Upon the completion of that part of his outfit, his hearing aids detected the foulest noise known to man—the phone ringing.

"Ugh," Clint groaned, hopping over on his one foot as he tried to get his other shoe on. He grabbed the dial adjuster on his aid and fiddled with it until he no longer heard a piercing whine. "What is it," he growled into the receiver, blessedly ending the awful ringing.

"Um," said an uncomfortably familiar voice, "it's Laura."

"Oh," Clint froze. "Hi."

"Um."

"I'm so sorry," he blurted. "I thought you were—uh. Never mind."

Great way to start an evening, Barton.

She giggled, and he sagged against the countertop in relief. "So, guess what? I just got in my car and it wouldn't start—think you could pick me up?"

"Sure, yeah," Clint started, without thinking, before he remembered that his 'car' was currently—a motor-bicycle (Kate hadn't been exaggerating). Although Laura had ridden on it with him before, he—he just couldn't propose after riding her around town on a twenty-five-year-old bicycle! "Actually, uhm," he started, "uh, could I send Kate to pick you up? We could walk together when you get here?"

"That should work," Laura replied slowly.

Did she suspect something? Clint cringed. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing if girls expected you to propose or if it had to remain a surprise. Bobbi—Bobbi had figured it out, because he'd totally given it away without trying. She knew by eight A.M. the morning of, and he hadn't actually popped the question until after midnight.

'Sorry 'bout your car," he blurted again. "I'll—I'll send Kate right away. She'll be there in no time. You ready?"

"Yep, just waiting for you," her voice sounded puzzled.

"Right. Ten minutes, tops," he sure hoped Kate was available. She'd BETTER be, after she helped him plan this stupid mess.

"Okay…"

"Bye. Love you," Clint hung up before he could say anything else that would leave him screwed.

He turned and found Lucky sitting in the corner, chomping and licking his lips over something red and fluttery.

Clint's jaw fell slowly open. "You have got to be kidding."

Lucky whined in shame and accidentally hacked up the last remaining rosebud. The golden retriever stared up at him guiltily and smacked his lips.

"I hope you really enjoyed those," he groaned, banging his forehead against the fridge. "This is so not my day! Where's Kate's number—?" he began shuffling through paperwork and sticky notes scattered over his countertop.

"Where's my number?" a familiar voice came from the hallway, as Katie-Kate herself, followed by a toddler and teenager and greeted instantly with a friendly bound from the dog, swaggered in through the door. "Tell me you at least have my number memorized by now, Hawkguy."

"Kate!" Clint frowned when he saw the caravan she brought with her. "This is really a bad time!"

Kate threw up her hands. "Don't gripe at me; I just came to make sure you knew how to tie Oxford shoelaces, that's all. You have coffee on your shirt," she noticed, pointing to his midsection with a frown.

"Uncle Clint!" Hobby screamed for attention, running forward with an expectant smile.

"Hi," Clint answered tersely, stiffening when the kid latched onto his leg. He met Kate's gaze with a panicked look of his own. "Everything's totally under control, no problem, but can you go get Laura and bring her here, now, please?!"

Natalia was gaping at him from the doorway. "You're in a suit?" she exclaimed, baffled.

"Yes, I am in a suit. That's very perceptive, Nat," Clint replied, a little louder than necessary.

"I never see you in anything better than your tactical gear," she raised an eyebrow. "Looks weird. You shouldn't wear it."

"Kate?!" Clint pleaded again, desperately.

"Why would I go get Laura?" Kate asked him, puzzled. "Isn't she coming here?"

"Her car won't start!"

"Well, how about you come with us and we can drop the two of you off at the restaurant on our way back?"

Clint stared. "I don't—we can't bring the whole family, Kate! I'm going to propose," he added in a hiss.

Natalia's eyes flew open and a huge smile burst across her face. "You're going to propose?" she squealed, almost jumping up and down.

The other Hawkeye folded her arms across her chest, glaring back at Clint. "Well, maybe you should have thought of that when you wrecked your hotrod for the last gir—"

"You wrecked my hotrod, and Penny—" a lump of anger formed in Clint's throat, and he raised his forefinger toward his friend. "Don't mention Penny."

"Who's Penny?" Hobby and Natalia asked simultaneously. Lucky started barking in the background.

"Nobody!" Clint yelled at the top of his lungs. "We are not talking about Penny!"

"Quiet!" came a voice from the floor above.

"Right. Okay," Kate grinned. "You take my car, go get Laura and take her to the restaurant, and we'll be here to take pictures when you get back. Deal?"

"No," Clint whined. "No pictures, Kate! Do you not know how to take a hint? I don't want a crowd when we're trying to have a special night!"

"Well," Kate put her hands slowly on her hips, "we have a problem, then, because I can't walk all the way back to my apartment with Natalia and Hobby—"

"I can walk across town; I'm not a child," Natalia grumbled again from where she was seated on the floor with the dog.

"—so if you're gonna take my car, we'll just have to stay here and hang out."

"Fine," Clint eventually caved, with a sigh. "But stay in your side of the complex, okay?"

"Sure, sure, whatever," she hummed, bustling around on her usual visitation rounds to check if his coffee pot had anything fresh in it, if the refrigerator was stocked along with the pantry, and to make sure Lucky's bowl looked like it had been recently used.

Whenever she did that, it made Clint felt like a debilitated old man who needed checking up on.

He may be an incompetent wreck, but he did at least know how to buy groceries.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing her keys from where she'd deposited them on the counter. "Okay," he took a deep breath. "I'm leaving now."

"Good luck!" Natalia exclaimed, jumping to her feet and giving him a hug.

Clint managed an extremely stressed-out looking smile, and nudged the dog out of his path to the door with his foot.

"Stop freaking out!" Kate called after him as he left. "You'll do awesome!"

"Yeah, right," Clint muttered under his breath, taking the stairs two at a time. It was already a little too late for that.

Once underway, he tapped his thumb nervously against the steering wheel as he stopped at a red light, waiting impatiently for all the traffic to clear out. At this time of night, everyone was going out, apparently. He should've anticipated that—if he had a social life, perhaps he would have known this ahead of time.

At last he skidded the tires up against the curb in front of Laura's apartment complex, hopping out and trying to avoid eye contact with two little old ladies walking their poodle-schnauzer miniature dogs—well, if something like that could be considered a dog—

Clearly they were wondering why he was driving a bright purple car with custom fenders through the city when he was dressed like a slob. He flinched with a little pride when he remembered that he was, actually, dressed up. Then he rang Laura's doorbell and glanced down at his shirt. The coffee stain was still there.

He hummed a little for a second, waiting for her to answer.

Except—she didn't.

Clint frowned and tried again, checking his watch.

At least five minutes of standing outside and she still hadn't answered—he then checked his phone, only to find that it was dead.

He groaned, banging his head against her door.

Why did all of this have to happen tonight?!

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One more chapter to go! For real, this time ;D Thanks for reading; if you enjoyed it, please let me know in the box! Until next time peeps ^_^