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Avengers (Clint) Secret Santa for Sophie83540


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Merry Christmas and happy New Year! 

I have never written for the Avengers, so I hope it's okay. I appreciated the excuse to rewatch the movie, that's for sure. And I do apologize that there isn't a ton of sneezing. I apparently went more for H/C, but I'm hoping that's okay because you said you like fluff and H/C.

P.S: Don't own.




Clint had been in the bathroom for too long for him to actually still be using the bathroom, and Natasha was suspicious. They had been sparring and, though they were usually evenly matched, Natasha had been kicking his butt this time. So she was giving him time to regroup and if needed, pout.

Enough was enough, she finally decided. So he was having an off day? That was no reason to hide in the bathroom.

She let herself in, not necessarily meaning to be silent, but out of habit she didn’t make a sound. Still, Clint registered her presence immediately, glancing up into the mirror above the sink he was hunched over.


“Hiding from me or suddenly have a prostrate the size of a melon?” she joked.

Clint pondered for a minute. “If those are my only choices, I guess hiding.”


He straightened up. “I Just needed a minute. Ready to get back out there?” Natasha stared at him, unblinking, with one eyebrow raised. “Really, I just needed a minute. Let’s keep practicing.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, but followed him back to the gym. They had mats set up and all of the Captain’s punching bags pushed off to the side. It had been a little hard to get used to a new sparring space after they both moved into the tower, especially having to share it with new people, but it was staring to settle in.

Clint was first on the mat, and Natasha was there less than two seconds later. They both put their hands up to spar, but before a single fist could be thrown, Clint whirled around and let out a mighty sneeze.


Natasha stared for a minute. In the years they had worked together, she could count his sneezes on her fingers. She didn’t bless him, and she doubted he expected her to.

“Why are you staring at me?” Clint demanded when he turned back aroud. “It was just a sneeze.”

Natasha put her hands up in fake surrender, and they began to spar again. They were less than a minute in when Natasha had Clint flat on his back, black boot clad foot on his chest. “Huh-hold on,” he pleaded, tapping the side of her ankle. She obligingly removed her foot and stepped back, allowing Clint space to curl in on himself with another sneeze. “HurrTschew!”

She gave him a few seconds to recover, which involved exaggerated blinking and a fist pounded on the ground, before extending a hand to her partner. “I think we’re done here,” she remarked.

He took her hand and allowed her to pull him up. “Not on my A game tonight. Sorry Nat,” he admitted.

“What’s up?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Just a little jumbled.” It was a reference to Loki’s period of mind control, and Natasha had no idea what to say to that.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she suggested. Clint nodded, and together they trudged to the elevator that would lead them to the living quarters of their new home.

Upstairs, they ran into Steve. “Captain,” Natasha greeted with a nod as Clint raised a hand.

“I was just going to make something to eat,” Steve explained, gesturing to the kitchen. “Care to join me?”

Natasha glanced at Clint, who shrugged. “Not that hungry,” he explained.

Steve gave him an appraising up and down look. Nobody in the tower had his appetite and metabolism, but Clint wasn’t usually one to refuse a meal after a workout session. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”

Natasha looked at him more closely. He did look pale, she now noticed, and his face had a strange pinched expression. “Nat’s cognitive recalibration was just a little much I guess,” Clint joked. “She doesn’t know her own strength.”

The soldier and spy both stared at him. If anyone knew their own strength, it was Natasha. “You’re sick,” Steve supplied simply. “Trust me, I was sick enough before the serum to recognize it.”

Clint pursed his lips but didn’t answer. Natasha tried to meet his eyes, but his gaze was pointed at the floor.

“Come on,” Steve ordered. “Let me make you some soup.” He marched off to the kitchen and when Clint made no move to follow, Natasha put her hand on his forearm and led him after the captain. His muscles were tensed under her hand.

The first thing Clint did when they sat at the counter was grab a paper towel from the dispenser and cover his face with it. “IH-TSCHEW!”

“Bless you!” Steve boomed from the cabinet, where he was puling ingredients out to make his soup.

“Thanks,” was the mumbled reply. Natasha noticed his cheeks staining with the barest hint of red. If she hadn’t been as attuned to him as she was, she probably wouldn’t have even noticed.

“So how are you,” Steve went on, not noticing Clint’s embarrassment. “Really. After the whole Loki thing. We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk about it.” He plunked a whole raw chicken on the counter next to the spices.

They had actually had many chances to talk. Clint just hadn’t taken any of them.

“Fine.” It was short and curt, bordering on being rude. Steve appeared to notice, but brushed it off.

“It would be okay if you weren’t,” Steve went on as if nothing had happened. “He was in your head, for goodness sake. And you never really got any closure with Thor taking him back to-“

“I said I was fine,” Clint snapped. He pushed himself off back from the counter and strolled away purposefully.

Steve stared after him in confusion. “I’ll call you when the coup is ready,” he called.

“You’d better call me, cap,” Natasha corrected, pushing herself back as well. “I’ll go check on him.”

She followed the archer at a distance back to their shared room. She heard a couple sneezed, saw him bend over at the waist while he walked, but didn’t say anything to him. She half expected him to slam the door before she could come in, but it was left open a crack for her.

Clint was pacing the room.

“That was rude.”

Clint stopped pacing and glared at her.

“Glare all you want, dorogoi,” she told him, addressing him in her native Russian. “But Steve’s right. You’ve been through hell.”

There was no response, but his glare seemed to lose some of its anger.

“Come here.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed him backward. When the back of his knees hit their bed, he allowed himself to be pushed down.

Natasha smiled at him. “Let me show you not knowing my own strength now.”

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I've always loved their dynamic. There's just something about them together that makes me think of my best friend and how close we are. This really captures that. There's also the humor between them that never fails to make me laugh. This was really good for your first time. Thank you. :) 

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