100 Marvel One Shots✔️

Goodnight, New York >> Clint Barton (Hawkeye) X Reader

Title: Goodnight, New York

Paring: Clint Barton X Reader

Warnings: light swear warning, an abundance of fluff.

Spoilers: None! If you've seen The Avengers (2012), that is. Also uses elements of Comic!Clint and Kate Bishop, so read up for knowledge of context. The wiki page is good if you don't have a copy of Hawkeye vs Deadpool on your person.

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Great, you think, kicking an empty Pepsi can across the street walk, one hand on your messenger bag strap, the other moodily shoved into your pocket. Trust my boyfriend's career to end mine.

You were, no, had been, a waitress in a quaint little Italian restaurant on one of the blocks the major part of what was now known as 'The Battle of New York' took place. You'd been stuck in the building during most of the fight, watching the aliens and the mad scramble of the superhero group Clint Barton - your boyfriend, the Hawkeye - was a part of and the police manage the fight. You'd called his cell; up until a day before, you'd been out of contact with him, he'd not returned to the apartment to you and Lucky. When you called the emergency contact, Phil Coulson, he just said it was, in his usual tone, "Classified". So you'd assumed he was on top secret spy business or hiding out until something blew over. It wasn't like Kate didn't practically live with the two of you either; you weren't alone.

But now you were.

Because of that stupid battle because of that crazy yellow-horned hatted man and his crazy weird army, your place of work had been destroyed beyond the compensation of the insurance companies. And thus, Angelo, your boss, had released everyone on staff, each with a parting gift of an A4 paper sized recommendation for your next employment and a stick of garlic bread.

"Great. Now I'm jobless," you huffed, scuffing your feet into the concrete. "Wonder what Clint'll think of that."

As if on cue, your phone buzzed his tone, that mugshot you took on the sly filling the screen. How was it that his resting face looked like he wanted to kill everyone?

"I didn't expect you to pick up, I thought you'd be on shift," his surprised voice filled your ear. At once, at just the sound of his voice and the stress had lifted a little almost instantly from your shoulders. "It's seven, it's it? That's your shift, right?"

You took a deep sigh. "Clint Barton, you are so right, right now," you mused, "and you probably already know why I picked up the phone instead of letting it ring out as if I really were at work."

"You're not at work?" There was a pause. You could hear the cogs turning, practically, "Don't tell me..."

You let out a shaky laugh. "Yep. That battle you were in, made my work shut down. Ruined the premises, ruined the business. Buh-bye employment."

He snorted at your wording. "That is awful, ________. Hey, what about you come home, we'll throw a pity party -,"

You fake retched, "No, no, I'm not having a pity party. That's too sad."

"Then what do you want?" he huffed, playing his pretend annoyed mood that made you want to get him into a headlock and make out with him sometimes.

"Well," you began, looking at your nails, smiling to yourself, "I want you, me and Lucky sitting around in the apartment, just being together. Maybe a light candle if we have one."

There was a pause on Clint's end. "How about Kate? She's already here."

"Sure!" You laughed. "Ask if she has a candle on her...oh, and I have one request."