Posted in clint barton, fanfiction, reader insert

It’s You and Me – Chapter 16

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

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Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2306

Rating:  E

Warnings:  action, canon typical violence, mentions of past child sexual abuse

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.


Chapter 17: Then

Clint was nervous as he followed you along the edge of the rooftops.  Not because he was afraid of being hurt, or getting caught.  You and he had been living in Brooklyn for a few years now in a shitty little apartment in a not great neighborhood and yet things had been going pretty smoothly.  They had a regular gig at the Coney Island Circus Sideshow and Clint even had a part-time job teaching kids trapeze at a trapeze school in Brooklyn.  It was generally enough to pay the rent and utilities and buy food.  On weeks things might get particularly tight because of an unexpected bill or doctor’s visit, you would find some sketchy wall street guy to cat burgle, and the two of you would have enough to make sure you wouldn’t need to do that again for at least a couple of months.

It wasn’t ideal, but the two of you were happy.  He loved being with you, and he loved this sense of stability you had together.

Then around four months ago, things had started to change.  He’d brought up the idea of having kids.  He knew despite the fact he felt his life was more stable than it had ever been, the reality was, you and he were in no position to raise them right now – he just wanted to put the idea out there.  If there was a plan to do it, then maybe you could work towards that as a goal.

You had completely shut down.

“No… no, no, no.  You can’t do this to me, Clint,” you said, moving down the couch away from him and hugging your legs.

He looked at you confused and more than a little hurt.  “What?  You don’t want to have kids with me?”

“I don’t want them at all,” you said.  “I thought you’d be on the same page as me.”

“What?  But why?  I love kids.  Working at the trapeze school is so much fun…” Clint explained.  “You always seem to get on with kids during the show and back when we were at the circus.”

You shook your head.  “I like them fine.  But Clint you should know… what we’ve been through in our lives… why would you want to create a life and put them at risk of repeating that?”

Clint blinked at you.  “But you would never hurt a kid.  Neither would I.  I want to give someone the chance at a happy stable life because of what mine was like.”

“What if something happened to us?”  You said.  “We don’t have any family.  They could end up going into shitty foster homes just like you did.  Or.. or… they …”

You stopped talking and hid your face in your legs.  He moved closer to you and put his arm around you.  He wasn’t sure how he felt.  He’d always seen himself as a dad at some point.  Even when he was young and angry he wanted to have a family … almost like it would be a way to finally fill in that box he’d never been able to check before.  But you didn’t want that, and he loved you.  You’d stuck by him through so much and he’d stuck by you.  To throw that away now when he was happy seemed crazy.

So he dropped it.

The problem was it seemed to cast a shadow over things.  He wanted to move forward but you were pulling away.  And then one day you came to him and said you had a job.  When he pressed you about what the job was or even why you had set one up when money had been fine lately, you wouldn’t talk and just asked him to trust you.

Only he still had that stupid issue with trust.

He tried though.  He had gone along with it and followed you into the mouth of the lion completely unsure if it was an old circus cat trained to keep his jaws apart or a young wild animal ready to tear you both apart.

After jumping over more rooftops than he’d care to count, you stopped suddenly and indicated for him to drop.  The two of you crept to the edge of the roof and peered over the roof to the one over from you.  There were a group of people standing around a bunch of crates talking.  Some were armed with guns, but he noticed the sword hanging from a large man’s hip.  He narrowed his eyes and slowly it dawned on him. 

“Is that Jacques?”  He whispered.

“Yes,” you said in a soft growl.

“What’s in the crates?”  Clint asked.

“It’s not important,” you said.  “It’s not why we’re here.”

Clint turned his attention from the group on the roof to you.  You opened and closed your hand on the hilt of your sword as you stared daggers at Jacques.  “Why are we here?”  Clint asked.  You didn’t reply, but your fingers twitched on the sword.  “Sugar… why are we here?”

“Revenge,” you seethed.

Clint’s jaw dropped open and he grabbed your arm, spinning you to face him.  “That’s not what we do.  If you wanted to get back at him, you should have just called the cops. Obviously whatever he’s doing is illegal.”

“After what he did to me?  To us?” You hissed.  “He broke your leg and left you for dead, Clint?  You told me that yourself!  And you’re just going to let him go about hurting other people?”

“This isn’t the way…” Clint implored.  “Come on.  Let me just call the cops and we’ll leave them.”

“I need to do this, Clint,” you begged.  “Please.  You want this life with me, and I can’t… I want you to have it, but I can’t if he’s out there.”

Clint was going to try and reason with you more, or beg you not to do this when a commotion on the roof drew his attention.  A group of people burst through the stairs with their weapons drawn.  They looked like government agents – feds or CIA – and everyone was shouting as they swarmed onto the roof.

Chaos broke out.  Swordsman and his group scattered, trying to escape the agents swarming the roof.

“He’s getting away!”  You shouted and jumped out, bounding over the roof after Swordsman.

“Sugar wait,” Clint shouted.  He took off after you, quickly nocking and loosing arrows, taking out anyone that came close to you.

A helicopter swooped in, lighting up the area as a firefight broke out.

Clint kept his attention on you.  He didn’t want you to kill anyone.  Even Jacques.  Especially Jacques.  As much as the Swordsman had been responsible for so much pain, he was also one of the only father figures Clint had.

“Sugar!  Stop!”  He shouted as he followed after you.

You and Jacques began to duel, your swords flashing with the light from the chopper.  “You think you can best me, girl?”  Jacques sneered as he cut your bicep.  You flinched and he took the opportunity to run again.  At the same time, one of the agents aimed his gun at you.  Clint reacted without thinking.  He loosed his arrow and it clipped the agent’s gun barrel sending the shot wild.  At the same time, two agents tackled him to the ground and wrestled the bow out of his hands.  You spun around and screamed his name.

“Run!”  Clint shouted, but it was too late, another agent grabbed you and knocked you down, sending your sword flying as he pushed a gun barrel into the back of your head.

“Don’t struggle and we won’t have any reason to shoot you,” one of the agents growled.

“You’re letting Jacques get away,” Clint argued, as they dragged him to his feet.

“How about you worry about the prison time you’re about to do,” the agent growled.


Clint’s shoulders ached.  He felt like he’d been sitting at this bare metal table with his hands cuffed for hours.  He worried about you.  No one would tell him where you were or if you were okay.  People would come in and ask him questions and then leave again.  He hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink and his bladder felt like it was going to explode.

A guy with an eyepatch came into the room with a tray of food.  Two agents that could practically have been twins flanked the door.  “You must be getting hungry,” eyepatch said, putting the tray just out of Clint’s reach.

“Need to pee,” Clint grumbled, squirming in his seat.

“You haven’t let him use the bathroom?”  Eyepatch said, looking at the agents.  When neither reacted, eyepatch uncuffed him from the table.  “Take our friend to relieve himself.  We aren’t animals.”

Clint hadn’t appreciated a piss as much as he did that one in his entire life.  By the time he was wrestled back to the table, he was already feeling a little more comfortable.

“So,” eyepatch said, pushing the tray over to him.  Clint grabbed the bottle of iced tea off it and popped the cap, swallowing the sweet liquid in large gulps.  “We’ve been asking around, and the only one of the group who even knows who you are was the girl with the sword.”

“Is she okay?”  You asked.

“Nasty cut on her arm.  Needed stitches,” eyepatch said.  “She’s in our medbay.”

“Who’s our?”  Clint asked, taking a bit from the meatball sub on the tray.

“We’re asking the questions, Mister Barton,” eyepatch said.

Clint choked on the bread and took another drink to clear his throat.  “How do you know my name?”

“We know a lot of things, Clint,” eyepatch said.  “Can I call you Clint?”  Clint shrugged.  “The names, Fury,” eyepatch added, offering Clint his hand.  Clint shook it awkwardly before going back to the food.  “For example,” Fury continued.  “We know you were in the circus with Duquesne.  So if the two of you came from the same place how do you explain your being there if you didn’t have anything to do with the rest of them?”

“Like you said; we know Duquesne.  I’d say the reason we were there was not far from the reason you were there,” Clint snarked.

“You shot at one of our agents,” Fury said.  “Doesn’t seem like we were on the same side.”

“I knocked his gun off course so he wouldn’t shoot my girlfriend,” Clint said.

“You expect me to believe you made that shot intentionally?”  Fury snarked.

Clint took the lid from the iced tea and flicked his wrist.  “Camera, thing one, thing two,” Clint said as it spun through the air.  It hit the security camera cracking the screen.  The two guards turned to look at it and it ricocheted off and hit the first one in the forehead, bounced up, and came down right on top of the second one’s head.

“Mister Barton,” Fury said.  “I want to offer you a job.”


Clint hurried into the medbay, still being flanked by the twins.  They left him at the door and Clint rushed to your hospital bed where you were sitting, handcuffed.

“You okay?”  He asked, patting you over like he was checking for breaks.

“I’m fine.  Just some stitches.  I don’t even know why they’re keeping me here,” you said.  “Mind games, probably.”

“They offered me a job,” Clint said.

You looked at him and tilted your head.  “What?”

“I know, right?”  Clint said.  “They said I’d be an asset to the organization.  Imagine us – spies.”

“Spies?”  You asked.

“Yeah,” he said.  “We’d make so much money and … we could get a house.  And a dog… Maybe even… if you wanted to… kids?”

You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish.  “I – I can’t… I can’t join them.  Clint… they’ll control us.”

“It won’t be like that…” Clint argued.

“How do you know?  How do you know what it’s going to be like?”

Clint shook his head.  This was not going at all how he expected.  “But it’s you and me… that’s how it is.”

“Clint, I can’t let people control me like that.  I can’t.  Why do you think I do the things I do?”  You asked.

“Because we have to… to get by,” he said.

“No,” you said with a hollow laugh.  “I can’t trust people Clint.  Only you.  I don’t even trust the manager at a McDonald’s to not try something.  If I steal shit, I’m the one in control.”

“Sugar… I want to do this,” he said.

“Then… then I guess you better do it without me,” you said.  “I can’t… I can’t…”

Clint sight.  “Well, maybe… maybe we can… I’ll take care of you.”

You laughed again.  That same hollow sound as before.  “Sure, Clint.  The spy and the thief.”

“Are you saying you want to break up?”  Clint asked.

You shook your head.  “That’s not what I’m saying.  I want you to choose me.”

“But… but they said… they said if I don’t take the job I’m gonna go to prison,” Clint said.

“What?  See Clint?  I’d rather go to prison than take that option,” you said, a tear rolling down your cheek.

He leaned in and kissed you deeply, cradling your jaw.  He wanted it to reassure you that it would be fine.  And maybe it would in the sense that neither of you would end up in jail for this, but it wasn’t going to be okay between you.  He pulled back slowly and looked down at you.  “I’ll make sure we both get out of here.”

He strode out of the room and was met by Fury in the hall.  “I’ll join,” Clint said.  “But you need to let her go and leave her alone.”

“Great,” Fury said, clapping Clint on the shoulder.  “Come along Agent Barton, you’ve got some papers to sign.”


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