If there's anything I've learned from writing fanfiction, it is this:

Once You Get Inspired To Write A Fic, Start Immediately.

So many times I've come up with a storyline, but I put off starting it, and now I'm just not motivated to write it anymore.

So when I got the inspiration for this fic, I started typing it up right away, despite the fact that I'm neck-deep in at least three other fics at the moment. Hence, updates for this story promise to be rather sporadic, but I do intend to work as consistently as possible.

Enjoy!

Well, he was screwed now.

Clint Barton lay on the untidy floor of his bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. His hands were tucked beneath his head, and he was frowning and muttering to himself as he kicked accusingly at the door.

He was in love with Natasha Romanoff. The realization had just struck him, not five minutes earlier, and now he was reduced to a scowling, grumbling, door-kicking, emotional noodle of pure, unadulterated crap, stretched across the stained carpet and contemplating life. And, more specifically, contemplating his newly-discovered feelings.

And, even more specifically, contemplating what Fury would say if he knew that one of the best partnerships in the history of SHIELD was in danger of going bye-bye all because a certain incompetent archer had gone head-over-heels for one sarcastic, lethal, smirking redhead.

Shucks.

A spider crawled out from underneath a nearby pile of laundry and looked quizzically at Clint. Clint stared narrowly back.

"What're you looking at?" he demanded.

The spider didn't reply.

"Scram!" Clint made a swishing motion with his fist, and the arachnid scuttled back toward the pile.

"Hey, if you see Natasha, tell her I say Thanks Alot," Clint called.

I'm talking to a bug.

The creature had vanished, so Clint went back to admiring the ceiling and meditating on his pitiful existence.

A relationship between them would never work (between him and Natasha, not the spider). Even if SHIELD protocol somehow allowed it, there was no way she felt the same way.

Or was there?

Of course there wasn't!

Was there?

Clint sat up.

Think logically about this, dude. The only way you can know if she likes you is if you ask her.

Clint shuddered.

Oh, there was no way he was going to ask her.

He would rather take on a closetful of poisonous spiders, blindfolded. Or jump off a cliff into a lagoon full of crocodiles. Or sneak up behind Fury and take off his eyepatch.

(Well, actually, that last one required further thought.)

But… was there any chance she liked him back?

Only one way to know for certain…

With a few muffled curses, Clint heaved himself to his feet. He trudged across the floor towards his bed and flopped down on the rumpled bedclothes in front of his open laptop. A quick scribble of his fingertip across the keypad was all it took to light up the screen. He opened up a webpage and clicked the searchbar.

Google search results for: how to tell a girl you like her without actually telling her?

The first link was for an article with a promising title:

21 Ways To Hint That You Like Someone

The first bit was just a random paragraph about how it can be hard to work up the courage to approach someone about your feelings, blah blah blah. Clint scrolled past it till he got to Step 1:

1.) Text them. Not just to make plans, but just because.

Clint looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling and rubbed absently at the stubble on his chin. Well, that sounded easy enough. His phone was sitting on his bedside table a short distance away. He eyed it doubtfully for a minute, then reached over and snagged it. He pulled up his messaging and, without giving himself time to change his mind, his thumbs danced quickly across the keypad, composing a short message:

[15:26, sent] Hey whats up?

He stared at the message until the minute text beneath the blue bubble informed him that his text had been delivered. Then he turned off his phone and laid back onto his mattress, closing his eyes.

His phone vibrated against his leg.

His eyes shot open and he sat up. He caught a glimpse of his screen just as a new message blinked to black. Hurriedly, he switched his phone on and read the text:

[15:27, Nat] I'm at home. What's the problem?

Clint frowned. 'Problem'? He hastened to reply:

[15:27, sent] What? There's no problem

Her response came quickly:

[15:28, Nat] Then why are you texting me?

Clint took a deep breath and dragged his hand through his hair, slightly irritated. Damn Nat – she could always tell when something was off.

[15:29, sent] Just checking in is all

Several long minutes ticked by before she finally answered:

[15:31, Nat] Hey seriously what's up? Do you need me to come over?

Clint ground his teeth.

[15:32, sent] No! I already told you nothings wrong

A few more tense minutes passed before her reply came in:

[15:33, Nat] Barton, you never text me for no reason

Clint was more than ready to argue with her on that point, but he realized, with a twinge of embarrassment, that she was right. He had barely reached this conclusion when another text came in:

[15:33, Nat] If you're being held at gunpoint, give me our code word

Clint groaned and buried his face in his hands.

[15:34, sent] No, I'm serious, everything's okay. I'm literally just checking in

There was another moment of inactivity before she replied:

[15:36, Nat] Ok if everything's fine then I have to get back. Prepping for tomorrow

[15:37, sent] Tomorrow?

[15:37, Nat] We have that undercover job?

Clint groaned again. Right – that op Fury had put them on… There was some juvie offender who had been in SHIELD's custody about six months prior. He had been assigned to mandatory community service now, and Fury wanted to be sure he was staying within the parameters of the law. It was really more Natasha's job – simple surveillance op; all she had to do was pose as a volunteer and stick around with the team for a couple hours. Clint was really only going along as a formality, since they were (that word again) a team.

[15:39, Nat] You're still coming right?

[15:39, sent] Yeah totally. See you then?

[15:40, Nat] Bye

Clint flopped back onto his pillows again and resumed his vigil of the ceiling. Well, it hadn't been a total failure. He had at least talked sociably to her, after all. Maybe that dumb list thing wasn't such a bad idea. He sat up and looked at his computer screen again, scrolling down to look at Step 2.