Work Text:
Monday
"What about purple rose?" Kate holds up a paint card under her nose and smiles. "You seem like a purple rose kinda guy."
"You seem like a girl who wants to get her ass left at the Home Depot."
"I drove you here, asshole." She folds the card into a triangle and flicks it expertly at his head. Clint lets it hit his temple because he lets a lot of things go with Kate. She grins again. "Okay, maybe just like a soft white. Off-white. Cream or something."
"White is the color of Satan. How about plum?"
"We could do plum."
"We?"
"Yes." Kate plucks the card from his fingers and turns to the counter. "We."
Tuesday
"All fixed, guy!" Spidey tosses him the key and grins. "She rides like a dream."
"Aw baby c'mere." Clint practically prostrates himself in front of the skycycle. He could fucking cry. "Daddy missed you."
"Yech. Gross. S'up webhead?"
"S'up Lady Hawk?" Kate tosses one of Lucky's toys at him. Unlike Clint, Spider-Man does not let things slide with Kate Bishop. He webs the toy and throws it back. Kate catches it and Clint tries not to feel too pleased. "Well, I'll pass your thanks along to Parker." Spidey gives them a salute and swings off. Clint sighs against the cycle happily.
Kate pretends to vomit. "Ugh, get a room."
"You're in my house."
"Mmhm. Are we painting today?" Kate hands him a cup of coffee. Clint wonders briefly when all his dishes suddenly became clean. He sighs.
"Yeah. If you want."
"It's your house, bossman." She looks over at the containers of plum paint they brought back the day before and frowns. "I could hire someone to paint it for you. You could hire someone. Let's be lazy and rich."
"Let's not and say we didn't," Clint says brightly. "Get your work clothes on, Katie-Kate. We're paintin' the room purple."
"I don't own work clothes," she points out. Clint gives her one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts that belong to someone whose name he doesn't remember and won't even try at this point. Kate doesn't ask any questions, but the shorts are too short and the shirt is his and it's only a little weird, yeah? Just, you know. A little. Clint looks away when she pushes herself up on her toes to tape off one part of the wall and turns the music up instead.
Wednesday
They collapse onto the couch in a pile of purple arms and legs, looking around at their handiwork. Clint feels proud. Kate looks like she's going to fall asleep. "Hey, no passing out on the sofa, Hawkeye. We have to clean up."
"Let's clean up tomorrow," she mumbles, because they stayed up all night painting and arguing about whether or not it had been worth it to purchase the director's cut VHS of Dances With Wolves when it came out. She's tucked close into him and Clint doesn't really have the energy to remind her it isn't totally appropriate for them to keep acting like this. No boundaries, no lines. Everything between them getting blurred and covered in rich, plum paint. There's a streak of purple in her hair. Clint brushes it with his thumb. By the time he thinks of something to say -- something like You're really important to me and I can't fuck this up -- she's completely asleep. Clint shifts himself out from under her and settles her against a pillow, covering her with a blanket before closing the blinds and heading out to get them some lunch.
Thursday
We've got killer bees in Central Park. Hawkeye -- er, Hawkeyes. Please tell me you have some bug spray arrows. Cap's voice comes in over the comm and Clint can hear Tony laughing his ass off on his own link. Kate grins next to him.
"Do we have any bug spray arrows he asks."
"What does he take us for?" Clint says, sighing heavily and pulling three arrows from his quiver. "Amateurs?"
Kate takes aim. "Most likely." The arrows fly. "Boom, Hawkeye."
Clint surveys their kill. "Boom indeed."
Friday
Clint does not like to be interrupted when he's watching television. Alone. With a beer (or twelve). But he makes allowances for Kate. He can't seem to stop. "This better be an emergency."
"Yeah, uh, my car is...indisposed. And I have three drunk boys with me and I can't call my sister because she'll murder me and I can't call anyone, like, at all. I can't. Like no one. I have no friends. Do you ever think about that? That I have literally no friends?" Her voice keeps getting shriller and Clint can already tell she's talking herself up into a panic attack. He's heard her do it before. He tries to stop it before -- "I can't call my mom and I can't call Cassie, I--" Clint hears her breathing catch.
"Kate."
"God will the two of you stop shouting! I hate them. I really do. Please help me. Please, please, please help me."
"Ma'am that's enough." Wait that's totally a cop.
"Katie did you get arrested?"
"Pulled over. Clint--" The call ends. Clint pulls up his busted computer and starts figuring out where she is. Her equipment's in the back of the car, he figures, but if not he'll have to call in to cavalry. He tracks her gear to the center of the city.
"I'll be back, Luck." He sighs and grabs the keys to the skycycle and heads off, trying to make a call and drive at the same time.
"Hello! You've reached your friendly neighborhood--"
"Hey. Webdick. I need help."
Spider-Man huffs. "No need for such language. What's up Hawkman?"
"Katie's in trouble. I'm gonna text you her location. She's got three drunk Young Avengers and a cop with her."
"Uh, okay? You want me to, what? Smooth things over? I don't do well with cops."
"Gimme a break, this city loves you right now. Just...help me out. I'm getting there as fast as I can, but I'm pretty sure you can get there faster and you will never, ever, ever hear me say that again. Got it?"
"Will do, chief."
When Clint finally gets to where Kate is, she's sitting on the curb with a bottle of water and a wet towel over her neck while Spidey and the cop give Billy, Teddy, and Tommy a firm talking to about putting their designated driver in a bad place and underage alcohol consumption. Clint lands.
"You her guardian?"
"What?" Clint turns to the cop. "No, she's like twenty."
"Okay, well, she says she hasn't been drinking. Passed the tests, I believe her. But it's no good to drive three drunk boys around this city."
"She was doing them a favor. She's their friend."
"Just...keep her out of trouble." The cop puts a firm hand on Clint's shoulder and pulls out his phone. "Spider-Man! Can I get a picture? My kid'll love it." Clint huffs and goes over to the boys, kneeling in front of them.
"You guys are lucky that you're Kate's friends and that if I killed you she'd come after me with a vengeance."
"Sorry," Tommy mutters. "I'm gonna puke again."
"I hope you do," Clint snaps. "All damn night. Enjoy your hangover, guys."
"We're sorry," Billy says weakly. Clint sighs.
"Yeah. Yeah I know you are." He heads over to Kate and sits next to her. "You okay?"
"No."
Clint nods. "S'alright." He sniffs. "Wanna go home?"
"Yes, please."
"Okay." He stands. "Everyone get in the car. Webs--" Spider-Man waves to the cop as he drives off and turns back. "Take my cycle home, yeah? Park it on the balcony. I'm gonna drive these wastrals to my place. Everyone in. Katie gets shot gun." Clint piles the guys into the back of the bug and opens the door for Kate. She stops before getting in, watching him carefully, her eyes a little unfocused. "Kate--"
"Thanks," she says. She puts her hand behind his neck and leans up, kissing his cheek. "You're a good man."
Saturday
Clint sets the boys down and makes them pancakes in the morning while Kate's still sleeping in his bed. He bunked on the couch to make sure no one choked on their vomit in their sleep, but he also has it on good authority that sleeping in his bed is like sleeping on pure pleasure so, there's that, too. Billy and Teddy mumble politely and Tommy inhales his food like the vaccuum cleaner he is. Clint makes sausages, too, and reminds himself to never do this again. He's not gonna have any food left.
"So."
Tommy groans. "Please don't start giving us the underage talk. You of all people."
"I'm not. You're not gonna listen, for one. And two, I'm not a hypocrite. Not usually. You're young and if you want to drink, then do it. I don't care. But Kate's a good girl, and she loves you guys. And she's, you know. She's important. To me. She's...she's here. In my life. And it's a good thing. And you should treat good things like the good things they are, or you can't have them anymore. You understand that?" They nod. "You're good kids. I know that. You're heroes, every last one of you. And I couldn't be prouder to fight next to you. But if you're gonna go out and get wasted, be cool about it, yeah?"
He kicks them out before lunch because he doesn't have enough food for this shit.
Tommy stops at the door and lets Billy and Teddy go ahead. Clint raises an eyebrow.
"Kate likes you," Tommy says. "She talks about you all the time. She's here all the time. You're important to her, too. You're a good thing in her life, too."
"I know."
"Okay. I just wanted you to understand that no one is gonna judge you if you just, like, come out and say that you're in love with her."
Clint chokes. "What?"
"You're in love with Kate. Like, it's obvious. She loves you, too, man."
"I...I don't love Kate. I mean, I love Kate. She's one of my best friends. She's...she's perfect. She's the best. But I--"
"Whatever, old man. You just...you just be good to her and I won't have to beat you to a bloody pulp, yeah? Pretty sure if I killed you she'd come after me with a vengeance, too." Tommy shrugs. "Just...just think about it."
Clint shuts and locks the door after him, staring at the wood. Lucky comes and sits right on his feet, tail thumping against the floor. "Crazy kids," he mutters. "Right, boy? Totally crazy kids." He glances at the clock on the stove and heads into his room. It's cool and dark and Kate's awake, staring at the ceiling. "Hey, girly."
"Sorry," she says finally, after Clint's crossed the room and settled on the side of the bed opposite her. "Sorry I'm a mess."
"You're not a mess."
"I am," she mutters. "But it's okay. I'm working on it."
"Probably shouldn't spend so much time with me," he says, stretching out next to her. She faces him, frowning.
"No. You're good people, Barton." Clint lets her take his hand. "Being around you makes me better."
Clint closes his eyes. "Being around you makes me better, too, Hawkeye."
Sunday
It's been awfully quiet in the apartment, even with Kate there. She keeps sleeping and when she's not sleeping she's on the balcony, drinking her fifth cup of coffee and scratching Lucky behind the ears. Clint goes out around noon and tries to feed her, but she won't budge. "Katie--"
"I just want to be alone."
"You want me to take you home?"
"No." She closes her eyes. "I want to be here. But I want to be alone."
Clint gets that. He goes to the tower to spar with Steve and brings back a pizza for dinner. Kate's moved to the kitchen, cleaning the dishes methodically and setting them on the dish rack to dry.
"You didn't have to do that."
"You weren't going to." She pulls the stopper out of the sink. "What's that?"
"Sausage, pepper, and onion pizza. You hungry?" She nods and dries a couple of plates. Clint eats four slices on his own. Kate eats three. She burps. "Nice, Hawkeye."
"Thank you."
"You look better. Solitude do you some good?"
"Yeah." She leans against him. They watch America's Next Top Model for an hour before Kate sits up straight and angles herself toward him. Clint feels his stomach drop. "I heard you and Tommy talking yesterday."
"Okay."
"First, it's none of his business how I feel about you, but that's beside the point I guess. Second, you don't have to feel obligated to reciprocate, but I would prefer it if you didn't, like, shut me out of your life. Just because I'm in love with you. I'll get over it. I've done it before, I can do it again." People are easy, are the unspoken words. Clint stares stupidly at his hands. Kate lifts his face by his chin and looks him straight in the eye. "I am in love with you, you know. It's ridiculous and I'm sorry--"
"Please don't be."
"I can't help it right now--"
"No. Please don't be sorry." Clint reaches up and takes her face in his hands. "You're the best thing going for me right now. I don't know how to have good things without messing it up."
"You're the worst at pep talks."
"I know."
"Will you kiss me now? Because you want to, I know you do. You're just not."
"Okay. I can do that."
Monday. Again.
Clint should probably have expected things to snowball from here. And that isn't a bad thing, not really. Kate has control issues and Clint understands that. Kate has issues with trust and Clint understands that, too. He lets her do what she wants within the quiet, safe limits of his room.
The night before, they spent the evening on the sofa, mouths exploring and trying to get the feel for one another. It was easy to find a rhythm -- it was the one they've always had. The one they've had since the moment they met. She showed him where to touch her, where to make her shake, and he talked her through what he liked, what he didn't. Kate made a list. It was kind of hot.
She's currently exploring number eleven, pulling the silk tie between her fingers and twisting it experimentally around his wrists. Clint groans and sinks happily into the bed, letting Kate kiss his throat and chest while her fingers work on rolling a condom over his dick. She straddles his thigh, letting him feel how wet she is. She runs her hands over his arms, flexed and straining against the loose knot over his head. He promises her that it feels good, and she promises him that she'll go further, someday, but right now she just wants him inside of her.
Carefully, she centers herself over him and guides his cock to her cunt, rubbing the head against her clit and moaning. Clint's not really gonna make it too far, but hell if this isn't beautiful. Kate sighs happily and slides home. She takes him slow, gasping as she gets used to the feel of him, noise coming from her gut, throaty and beautiful and needy. She throws her head back and her hair falls down her back, too long and too dark and Clint remembers streaks of purple and wants to hold her.
He holds off his orgasm, trying to make it last. Kate is faster, younger, tumbling like wild, untrained water into her climax and crying out, scrambling for his hands and undoing them from their loose binds. Clint sits up immediately, holds her while she shakes, while the ends of her orgasm ebb their way out. He rolls his hips, thrusts into her once, twice, and comes, still feeling her clenching around him, her mouth wet on his ear as she swears and clings to him.
"You okay?" Clint pushes her up, helps her settling onto her back as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rolls off the condom. "You good?"
"Hmm?" Kate rolls over, bleary eyed and flushed. Clint brushes the hair from her face and gets up to go to the bathroom. He's red himself, scratches on his chest and shoulders, a good-sized hickey started to shine on his collar bone. Kate comes in after him, her pale arms wrapping around his chest. "Hey."
"Hi."
"Nice battle scars."
"You're a fighter."
"I am." She kisses his back. "Take a shower with me, Hawkeye?"
"Will you wash my hair?" Clint turns around and settles his hands on her hips, bringing her in close. She presses herself flush against his chest, closing her eyes and dropping her forehead to his sternum. Clint runs a hand through her bangs.
"No, doofus. I will not."
Clint laughs. "I'll wash yours."
"Damn right you will," she mutters. Clint sighs and reaches into the shower, turns the hot water on, and kisses her until the mirror gets cloudy, not a thing to be seen but two human blurs, working things out, thinking things over, trying things again.