
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/649911.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Hawkeye_(Comics), The_Avengers_-_Ambiguous_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Clint_Barton/Kate_Bishop
  Character:
      Misc._Young_Avengers
  Additional Tags:
      Fanmix
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-22 Words: 1474
****** We Gotta Kill this Switch ******
by barelyjoyous
Summary
     I see your clint’s makeout song fics and raise you a katie-kate’s
     makeout mix fix.
     Brief moments in which Clint realizes he is too damn old for this
     shit.
Notes
     Although there is nothing more dear to my heart than the information
     that Clint's makeout jam is Purple Rain- The wonderful restlesslikeme
     make a Young Avengers Mix Here, and then I decided that Katie-Kate
     needed her_own_club_mix. And then this happened.
Clint has katie spread out underneath him, her legs over his shoulders and her
thighs shaking, a hand clenched tight in his hair. Clint’s jaw is twinging and
he’s so hard it hurts. There’s just a sliver of light shining from underneath
his bedroom door, and he can hear his neighbors on the other side of the wall,
but he thinks ‘you’re gorgeous’, thinks ‘i’m too damn old for this’, thinks
‘i’m not running away girly-girl,’ and when Katie whines high in her throat
Clint slides up the bed to kiss her.
----
“You want to take me where?”
Clint’s trying to figure out how this coffee machine works. He misses his old
one. His old one that sparked a bit when you plugged it in and sometimes made
his coffee look like sludge. Clint misses drinking his coffee straight out of
the clear pot. This one has too many buttons and makes the coffee right into
your cup. Clint always realizes too late that his mugs are still stacked high
waiting to be washed in the sink.
“A club. You know.” Katie makes some sort of vague hand gesture that leaves
Clint staring at her.
“Come on, Hawkeye. Dancing? Music? Five dollar bottles of beer?”
Clint cringes a little. He can’t remember the last time he stepped foot in a
club, and he is definately too old for this shit.
----
Somewhere along the line, Clint missed the memo appointing him the official
handler of the Young Avengers. Somehow he also missed the memo telling him that
Katie was in the Young Avengers in the first place. He had gotten so used to
keeping her around, her trailing after him when he specifically told her to
stay put. It’s unnerving to think that she’ll be running around New York
fighting by herself, especially with the staggeringly high amount of near-
death-and-or-capture experience they’ve had together.
Clint isn’t sure about the rest of the kids, either. There’s too much magic and
not enough SHIELD training. Sure, Clint’s fought alongside some pretty unique
individuals, but at least when he’s out there he’s got a super spy and a super
soldier to watch his ass.
Besides, Clint’s seen what Magic can do before, has felt it, can still feel it
in his bones. Sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat feeling like he’s still
under somebody else’s control.
Magic, Clint thinks, isn’t enough to keep you safe.
----
Clint has logged a lot of man hours looking inconspicuous in the backs of night
clubs. He knows how to perch himself on a barstool and order drinks, buy a
pretty girl a drink and make casual conversation while watching his target. The
part that Clint’s really good at, is following the target out the back door and
taking his shot, getting in a car, and going home.
Clint was pretty sure last time he was in a club the music wasn’t this loud. He
was pretty sure last time he was in a club the occupants didn’t look like they
were two bucks short of 21, either. Clint’s vaguely wondering if he could get
fired just for being here, especially when he glances over and sees Tommy and
Billy dancing. He’s pretty sure somebody’s hand is down somebody’s pants out
there, and it only gets worse when he watches his Katie grind her hips with
fucking Miss America.
Clint thinks about bailing, the kids are pretty occupied (and fuck he’s gotta
stop thinking kids especially with the way he feels his heart pound when he
watches Katie dance) and he’s pretty sure he could be home before the end of
this song, but he remembers what Katie had said, reminds himself that she asked
him to be here, and he orders another beer.
----
“I’m not going to make out with you Katie.”
Clint’s standing on the edge of a roof, his eyes trained 12 stories down on
Natasha. She lands a kick right in the guys stomach, and as he goes down Clint
watches a jet of red fly out of Iron Man’s palm.
“I’m older than you think, bossman.”
Clint vaguely wonders why she’s even here. Something about field training,
upping her security clearance by more experience, but all it’s really doing is
making Clint grind his teeth as she leans dangerously far over the edge.
Clint’s fingers twitch on his bow as he knocks an arrow, and just as he goes to
pull his arm back, take the kill shot, he feels something fly past his ear, and
looks down just in time to watch Katie’s arrow fly into the fight below. Katie
already has another arrow in her hands and Clint smiles, big and bright.
----
Katie does this fucking filthy thing with her tongue and Clint swears his eyes
roll into the back of his head. He managed to get her shirt off as soon as the
door to his apartment had slammed shut, but her jeans are still clinging to her
hips and she’s sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand splayed over his hip
and the other wrapped around to his back.
Clint cusses, groans, shifts his hips forward, and Katie pushes him back. She
smacks his hip a little too hard, and when Clint shudders, she smacks him
again, harder and Clint growls. He gets a hand in her hair and holds her head
back until she’s looking up at him through her lashes, and Clint watches his
cock slide out of her mouth and thinks fuck.
----
“You know she’s into you.”
“You know you’re seventeen.” Clint says matter-of-factly, plucking the
cigarette out of Tommy’s lips and bringing it to his own. So much for sneaking
out the back for fresh air, then.
Tommy smiles and stuffs his hands in his pocket, bounces a little on his feet,
and Clint runs over every disciplinary action he’s going to be faced with when
he goes back to work on Monday.
----
Clint’s shoving his way through the crowd, his hands full of water bottles when
Katie grabs his arm and turns him around.
Her hair is stuck to her forehead and she’s ditched her jacket, the tank top
underneath riding up to just under her belly button, and Clint feels his mouth
go dry when his eyes scan over the expanse of skin. Clint holds the water
bottles up in surrender, and watches as Katie takes them, toss them to her
friends, and before he can step away, she winds her hand in his and pulls him
close.
“One dance, Hawkeye.”
----
Clint’s got his hands splayed out over Katie’s hips, and every time she rocks
her hips back she lets out this huffy little moan and pushes her hand against
the center of his chest. Clint’s been holding back, but when she runs her hand
up her stomach, over her breast, and into her hair, Clint groans and snaps his
hips up, presses his hand flat against her stomach and moves her where he wants
her. Katie’s head drops down against his shoulder, and Clint drops a hand down
to rub his thumb over her clit.
“Right here, Katie-Kate,” Clint says lightly, surprised at how rough his voice
sounds and he moves his thumb faster until she starts to shake apart in his
lap.
----
Whatever song is playing must be popular, because as soon as Clint hears the
opening bass lines he swears the dance floor gets more crowded.
Katie has a hand on the back of his neck, and one on her own hip, and Clint
doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with his hands. He’s got his head tipped
down, and when she finally pulls his hands onto her hips Clint leans forward
and kisses her.
Clint feels Kate’s hand grip tight in his hair and she knocks their hips
together. Clint slides his hands around to her back and holds on tight.
----
When Clint wakes up in the morning his bed is empty. He feels something clench
in his stomach for half a second, until he hears Lucky bark and Katie yell back
at him.
“Good boy,” Clint says, tugging a shirt over his head as he walks into his
kitchen.
Katie is sitting on his counter, a mug of coffee between her hands and one of
Clint’s t-shirts hanging down to her knees.
Katie gives him a look as he scratches behind Lucky’s ears. “He was hungry, so
I fed him the pizza in your fridge.”
Clint walks into the kitchen, ready to bend down to find the dog food, but he
notices his old coffee maker sitting on the counter, the sleek new stark tech
espresso machine nowhere to be seen, and instead he turns around and wraps an
arm around Katie, steals the cup of coffee from her hands and pulls her into a
kiss.
“Morning, Hawkeye.”
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