What Happened To My Socks?! (Clint Barton x Reader) One-shot/Drabble
Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader
Summary: Clint can’t find any of his socks. The Avengers left the Tower, not including Y/N and him. He’s just hungry with cold feet.
Word Count: 551
Warnings: Implied sex, some swearing –I think….
A/N: This is for @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics challenge. Enjoy!
“What happened to my socks?!” Clint mumbled under his breath, cursing,” Where could of I possibly put them, damnit!?”
Taking the elevator to the common floor, Clint stepped out looking around. “Hey, guys. Do you know what happened to all of socks?”
“Morning Barton,” Y/N greeted him, Clint couldn’t stop staring, he was the only one who drank straight from the pot, until now apparently. The coffee, in the pot, was light brown sitting in Y/N’s hands, she was wearing a large, purple, checked t-shirt, Stars and Stripes shorts, her (Y/H/C) was perching on top of her head in a messy bun, purple rimmed glasses sitting on her nose reading something on her phone, and- are those his socks!?
“Are those my socks?”
“So what if they are, Barton?”
“I can’t find any of mine.”
She says oops. Oops!
“Have you been stealing my socks?”
“Not only your socks, though they are very comfy.” She wiggled her toes, glancing up, smirking at him, her (Y/E/C) eyes glimmered with something –mischief maybe.
Clint’s jaw dropped, “So, that’s where all of my clothes have been going!?”
“Mostly, Nat has some too.”
“Well duh, we’re sneaky. She’s an assassin and I’m an ex-art thief, you can’t really best people who know how to sneak around and professionals about it.”
You got to be kidding me, Clint thought.
Clint looked around, “Where is everyone else?”
“Out getting breakfast now, there an attack, we handled it, apparently you didn’t hear it the alarm though. Don’t feel bad, it barely took an hour.”
Y/N moved towards the fridge, opening the door and started pulling stuff out. Clint suddenly felt self-conscious about his sweatpants and muscle shirt and bare feet, whilst trying not to look at Y/N’s ass in those shorts. She seemed to be wiggling it excessively.
“Your ass looks nice today. Not that it doesn’t always look good.”
She frigging laughed! Here he thought she would kick his ass.
“Well, these shorts originally belonged to Steve. Natasha stole them from Steve, then I stole them from her.”
“I know right.”
Such sarcasm, Clint thought dryly.
She set a plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes she retrieved from the microwave.
“Yes’m.” Clint winked.
Clint devoured the bacon and eggs first. Covering the pancakes in strawberry syrup, Clint cut it up into bite size pieces, going to take a bite only to be interrupted by Y/N stealing the piece of pancake right off of his fork.
“Hey!” Clint exclaimed, pouting, “That’s my pancake!”
“Alright,” Y/N spoke with mouth full.
Chewing a bit before, kissing him full on the lips to trade the syrup left back to him.
He stood shell-shocked, mind still working on processing what had just occurred.
She sighed, exasperated.
“I like you, dummy. So, I got breakfast and I kissed. I also stole your clothes, not only because they’re comfy, but because they’re yours.”
She gave him an earnest, openly hopeful look.
“Does this mean I get my socks back?”
That startled a laugh out of her.
“Nope. I’m keeping them. I didn’t lie about them being comfortable,” she said, popping the ‘p’. “But….you could take them off…along with the rest of my clothes.” She winked.
Her hips swayed enticingly on her way out of the kitchen.
“Hey, wait up!”