A second part to this imagine for sr_quinn_hexa. Hope you all like 🏹

Clint scrunched his eyes tighter, as the rays of the sun suddenly seemed to rush through the thin material that hung against the windows of the shack. The archer groaning as he felt the dull ache in his head. He had to admit that he couldn't remember everything that had been said the night before. He couldn't, in truth, remember everything that he had done. But he could still remember the most important thing. He could still remember why he was so warm now, despite the frigid conditions. He could still remember why a naked body was pressed up against his. And he was glad that he could. The archer not daring to move just in case he woke her, and the dream within which he currently found himself, was shattered.

Natasha had often joked that he wasn't kidding anyone when he and (Y/n) would complain and snipe at one another. That the archer should give them all a break, and just take (Y/n) out for dinner or something. Hell, she would pay for them both to go to the movies if he wanted to. But each time, Clint would scoff, telling his old friend that she had become a romantic in her old age. And that the only place that he wanted to take (Y/n), was down to the practice range, so that he could do his William Tell impression. Yet, he had known that the Widow had always been able to see past his vehement protests. He would always see that knowing little smile, whenever he would brush off her suggestions as ridiculous. But as always, she had kept his secrets. The Widow well aware of the teasing that he would have had to endure from the others, if the likes of Wilson and Stark found out about his true feelings for the former assassin. Well aware that it was up to the archer to tell (Y/n) how he truly felt, rather than have it blurted out in front of everyone.

When Steve had insisted that the latest mission would be perfect for just Clint and (Y/n). The archer had hoped that it would give him the opportunity to actually man up, and finally explain to (Y/n) why he was always such an insufferable arse. That he could sit her down, without the others there, and tell her the truth. Hoping that she too was hiding her own secret. Yet before he had had chance to say anything, the shit had hit the fan. He had missed their target, and they had had to make a run for it under a hail of gunfire. The ensuing chase, causing the pair to abandon the planned pick up point, and having to flee for their lives into the mountains. Clint more than happy that they had been able to find the old logging cabin. And even though he had wanted to tell (Y/n) while they were huddled in the ramshackle building. Things had just progressed as they normally would do between the pair. The playground antics and name calling starting in earnest, as they had huddled around the fire.

But then (Y/n) had found the brandy. The finely aged liquor, giving him the courage he had need to do what he had wanted to do for so long. To tell her that he wanted to kiss her. To actually kiss her. And then when she had responded. When it seemed obvious that she had as little intention of letting him stop, he had thrown all caution to the wind, as well as the threadbare blankets. The archer sure that he had never felt anything as wonderful as being held close and loved by the beautiful woman that now lay in his arms.

                                                       >>---------------------------------<<

(Y/n) moved slightly, as the brightness of the sun suddenly seemed to fill the whole room. The light material, that may once have laughably been referred to as curtains, let the light hit her full in the face. The former assassin groaning internally as she felt the dull throb in her head. (Y/n) swearing to herself that she would never, ever drink again. But that said, she also couldn't help but smile, as she carefully snuggled into the body next to her. She had to admit that she couldn't remember everything that they had said to one another the night before. Although she would never forget the story about Tony being punched, and the one about the donkey. She couldn't, in truth, remember everything that they had done after she had found the brandy. But she could still remember the most important thing. She could still remember why she was so warm now, despite the frigid conditions. She could still remember why a naked body was pressed up against her. A pair of strong muscular arms wrapped around her. And she was glad that she could. The former assassin not daring to move too much, just in case she woke the archer, and the dream within which she currently found herself, was shattered.

(Y/n) had realised how ridiculous the situation between her and Clint was. She was a fully grown, intelligent, strong woman for god's sake, and therefore should have been able to tell him how she felt. But whenever he was around Clint, it was like he turned into a blushing schoolgirl. Unable to tell a boy how she felt because she knew that it would come out wrong. That she would turn into an embarrassed mess.

Natasha had often joked that (Y/n) wasn't fooling anyone when she and Clint would complain and snipe at one another. That (Y/n) should give them all a break, and just see if Clint would like to go for a coffee or something. Hell, she would even come up with a way of getting the rest of the team out of the compound so that she and Clint could talk in private. But each time, (Y/n) would sneer, and tell the Widow that she was becoming a romantic in her old age. And that the only place that he wanted to take Clint, was out to the firing range, so that he could shoot at him. Yet, (Y/n) had known that Natasha had always been able to see past her vehement protests. She would always see that knowing little smile, whenever she would brush off Nat's suggestions as ridiculous. But as always, Natasha had kept her secrets. (Y/n) knowing that the Widow was well aware of the teasing that she would have had to endure from the others, if the likes of Wilson and Stark found out about her true feelings for the archer. Well aware that it was up to her to tell Clint how she truly felt, rather than have it blurted out in front of everyone by a smug billionaire.

When Steve had insisted that the latest mission would be perfect for just her and Clint. The former assassin had hoped that it would give her the opportunity to actually act like an adult, and finally explain to Clint why she was always seemed to complain at him. That she could sit him down, without the others there, and tell the archer the truth. Hoping that he too was hiding his own secret. Yet before she had had chance to say anything, they had ended up a certain creek without a paddle. Clint had accidentally missed their target, and they had had to make a run for it under a shower of bullets. The ensuing chase, causing the pair to abandon the planned rendezvous point, and having to flee for their lives, up into the mountains. (Y/n) more than happy when Clint had spotted the old logging cabin. And even though she had wanted to tell Clint while they were huddled in the ramshackle building. Things had just progressed, unfortunately, as they always did between the pair. The foolish, childish antics and name calling starting in earnest, as they had shivered around the fire.

But then she had found the brandy. The finely aged liquor, breaking down her inhibitions. (Y/n) finding herself surrendering to the archer's lips, as he had kissed her. And when it became obvious that Clint had had as little intention of letting this stop as she did, (Y/n) had thrown all caution to the wind and given in to her need for him. The former assassin sure that she had never felt anything as wonderful as being held close and loved by the handsome man that now held her close.

"Morning." A sleepy deep voice suddenly said. (Y/n) smiling as she looked up into the eyes of the archer.

"Morning." (Y/n) replied. Her heart beating just that little quicker, as Clint kissed her softly.

"Do ya think they've been looking for us?" Clint asked, as he pulled (Y/n) closer to him. The archer not wanting to lose the feel of her body against his.

"Yes, we have, and we bought you pancakes." A voice said, before (Y/n) got the chance to reply. Clint and (Y/n) both trying to cover their naked forms with the thin blankets, as they looked up and saw the grinning faces of the rest of the team. Tony holding a styrofoam box filled with sweet treats for the pair.

"Now get some clothes on. I'm freezing my ass off here. And I have better things to do than wait in the Quinjet while you two play another round of mummies and daddies." Tony added as he tuned around and made his way outside. Bucky grabbing hold of Sam by the collar and forcing him to leave. The Falcon reluctant to wait until the naked duo got in the plane, to start teasing them.

"You know that they are never going to let us live this down, don't you?" (Y/n) chuckled, as she and Clint lay back down on the floor. Neither of them caring whether old iron draws was cold or not.

"Yep. Ya right. But I don't care. Cos from now on, I don't mind getting stuck with you, wherever we go. In fact, lets pretend that we are still stuck, and make Stark wait a little longer." Clint replied. The archer pulling the blankets back over them. The sound of laughing filling the shack, as Clint showed (Y/n) just how much he really didn't mind being stuck with her.