“I need a coffee…or a nap.”
Joined September 2025
- Tweets53
- Following13
- Followers12
- Likes17
He returned moments later and eyed his empty glass but didn’t say anything as he set the take out bag on the counter.
“Tada, sushi.”
Clint poured himself another glass of bourbon and took a sip.
“You know I could always use your help.”
Clint Barton retweeted
.・⋆˙𝙒𝙚’𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩.
⋙ S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Therapist
⋙ P.S.Y.C.H. Ward Criminal Intake Specialist
⋙ Open door policy.
⋙ RP OC. Mirrored Literacy.
“Oh come on, you don’t believe me?”
He laughs softly and shrugs at her question.
“Job here and there, nothing major…been working on some new arrows.”
Clint pauses to refill her glass, before a knock on the door draws his attention.
“I got it, don’t drink all my liquor.”
He pours another glass and sets the bottle on the counter, taking a slow sip.
“Promise?”
Clint holds out his pinky toward her.
“This is legally binding.”
“Straight bourbon. For the pain.”
He rolls his eyes and chuckles.
“Yeah, I know. We still need to look after each other, Nat.”
By the time she gets changed he is in the kitchen pouring himself a drink. He grunts softly at the question and then motions to the bottle.
“Want one? Food should be here in ten.”
He looks at her, tilting his head to one side.
“How old are those bandages?”
“Yeah, it’s in my closet. I’ll grab it.”
He moves silently into his bedroom to grab the duffel she’d left with him, as he types an order on his phone.
“Ya know, for a recon job, you sure look beat up.”
Clint slid the duffel into the bathroom, giving her some privacy.
“You tend my wounds and treat me to dinner? I must be dreaming.”
He laughs softly, eyes lingering for a moment to check for anymore bruising before he exits the bathroom.
“You want your usual?”
Clint’s voice carried from the hallway.
His gaze flickers to the bruising and then to meet her eyes.
“Always, you want me to order something while you change?”
Clint motions to her suit with one hand and rubs the back of his neck with the other.
“Yeah, we try.”
His one eyed gaze looks her up and down for any wounds as she mentions a job.
“What job? Where?”
He leans his hip on the counter and closes his left eye.
“We aren’t usual people, Natasha…”
A brief pause.
“I could put a pot on though.”
“Taxi cab. The driver wasn’t super happy.”
He set his phone down and turned to look at her.
“It’s not that bad, right?”
Clint Barton retweeted
Kurt Wagner. Nightcrawler.
- Lit/Descriptive.
- MV/MS
- (N)SFW.
- Mature content. Violence, dark themes, and more.
- MDNI.
- Lewd in DM's only.
