Marvel Imagines

Clint Barton-Morning Gift

You let out a relaxed sigh as the hot spray of water hit your back, your muscles almost immediately loosening up. It had been a bit difficult the night before when the mission you and Clint went on turned into a chaotic nightmare. All in all, you didn't see yourself dealing with any more mutant animals in the future.

As you finished, you threw your hair up in a towel and wrapped another one under your arms before padding into the bedroom you shared with your husband—who wasn't in the bed where he had been snoozing off just ten minutes ago.

"Clint?" You called.

He was always running off somewhere early in the morning, usually working in the barn. And if he was out with that evil, stuck-up broad of his, you'd turn that cow into hamburger patties.

You toweled off and threw on his red plaid shirt over a pair of shorts, buttoning the top buttons when a loud thud sounded from somewhere inside the house. On instinct, you immediately drew out your gun from the dresser and slowly walked into the hall, pointing the pistol at the floor. Another crash made you move a little faster, your heart racing as you held your breath, tense and silent.

Someone—or something—was in the kitchen.

You inhaled deeply and quickly stepped around the corner, aiming your gun at the intruder.

"Don't move." You ordered.

You quickly flicked on the lights and your body automatically relaxed as you realized it was only Clint...covered in flour with a dark, brown smear on his cheek.

"What the hell?"

It looked like a tornado had passed through your usually spotless kitchen. The sink was overflowing with bowls and pans, the counters thickly layered with at least an inch of flour. A yellow glob fell from the ceiling and you looked up to see a few eggshells stuck in the wood, dripping yolk onto the floor. Clint grinned sheepishly and slowly put down a bowl full of thick, gray batter.

"Clint..." was all you could really say in the moment.
You were absolutely shocked as to how the man had managed to get eggshells stuck in the ceiling.

"First and foremost, I didn't mean it." He said quickly.
"No, first and foremost, you're cleaning this mess up. And there is no way I'm helping you."

You rolled your eyes playfully before flouncing into the living room where you stopped short at the sight of a little breakfast tray.

On it sat a little plate of pancakes, a small pitcher of syrup and a glass of orange juice. In the corner was a crystal vase with a single, red rose.

The gesture was so touching, you could feel your nose burning a bit, which usually meant you were about to cry. A pair of arms snaked around your waist and Clint gently pulled you against his chest to kiss you on the top of your head.

"Sorry for the mess, babe. But last night was such a disaster, I wanted to surprise you."
He hesitated and you looked up at him.
"Do you like it?"

"I love it, Clint. Thank you." You turned around and drew him into a tender kiss, laying your hands on his chest. He took your hands in his and as you pulled away to catch your breath, he leaned his forehead against yours with a satisfied smile.

"I love you." He said softly. Your heart skipped a beat, as it always did whenever he said those words.

"I love you, too. But, you're still cleaning that by yourself."

You giggled and went to eat your breakfast as he walked back into the kitchen with a heavy sigh, knowing he was in for a long day.