damn right it's more solid than yours

aw-hawkeye-no  asked:

Oh man, can you write more of the arranged marriage AU? IT'S SO GOOD. If you are inspired, of course. Thanks!

Continuation of this

294.

Agent Sitwell was a smooth, smart, faintly sarcastic sort of man, who abided by protocol precisely so far as it served his purpose; when it did not, he talked his way around to a point where it did, with no one else any the wiser. 

At present he was arguing with Rogers, who couldn’t give less of a damn for protocol when it didn’t match up with what was right. Unstoppable force, immovable object, and this was only the first meeting. 

“There are concessions that Hydra believe should be made,” Sitwell was saying, a faint smile doing its very best to conceal the faint lines of tension around his eyes. “Given the numerous less than desirable traits of your designated candidate.” 

“Rude,” said Clint, unheeded by anyone except the Soldier, whose mouth curved up a little on one side. He really was even hotter than his photo, in person. Older, more rugged, his hair longer and unevenly cut, and with an added solidity and an edge of danger that was doing frankly alarming things to Clint’s stomach. 

“I’d thank you not to insult a member of my team,” Steve said, coldly. “Clint is a good man, a damned fine Avenger, and the best shot I’ve ever seen.”

“All excellent qualities in a husband, I’m sure,” Sitwell said, snidely. 

“As opposed to being a mercenary and assassin, I guess,” Steve answered acidly. 

“I’m sorry, should I be bringing up Agent Barton’s checkered resume?” 

Clint sidled over towards the door, trying to look casual and probably failing miserably as soon as he got a closer look at the Soldier’s arm. 

“Okay,” he said, quiet so as not to interrupt the negotiations, “that thing is just cool.” 

The Soldier didn’t say anything, but he twisted his arm a little and clenched his fist, all the plates up the arm shifting and resettling. It was kinda hard to look at it as anything other than preening, and Clint was gonna take that as a good sign. 

“…already been married…” Clint caught, and he winced. That was a conversation he really wasn’t interested in hearing, frankly. 

“Hey,” he said, thoughtful. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“Pretty sure we’re supposed to wait until after the wedding,” the Soldier answered, his voice rusty but amused. Clint choked on a laugh, red flooding his cheeks. 

“Okay, interesting thought, but I was just… gonna show you the range.” 

“Range?” The Soldier said, cocking his head, his attention clearly caught, and Clint grinned properly for the first time since the whole marriage subject had originally come up. Maybe this could work out for them after all.