Clint is kinda drunk, and he knows that it’s a bad idea. But there’s nothing else to do the Middle of Fucking Nowhere, New Mexico, and the town has a bar. Nothing spectacular, but the music is good, and he likes what they have on tap. Luckily for him, this bar also has a pretty girl making eyes at him from across the room. She can’t be more than 23 - also probably a bad idea, but the idea of talking to someone who isn’t part of S.H.I.E.L.D. and who also has some pretty amazing cleavage outweighs any hesitation he may have left. He picks up his beer and walks over to the other side of the bar.
“Hey,” he says, taking a seat beside her.
“Took you long enough to get over here,” she remark. “Thought I was going to have to find some other guy to ogle.”
Clint takes a cursory look around the bar. “So it was me or the two guys with the trucker hats in the corner?”
“I was thinking Herb the bartender. He might be my grandpa’s age but he’s pretty spry,” she says with a grin.
“Guess it’s good for you that I came in tonight,” he says. “Got a name?”
“Darcy. What about you?”
“Clint,” he replies.
Darcy nods. “Come here often?”
"You've been staring at me for twenty minutes. Did it really take you that long to come up with that line?" he asks with a wink and takes another drink from his beer.
A little grin turns up one of her plump, cherry-colored lips. “You’re good,” she says, “But really, what brings you to Middle of Nowhere, New Mexico?”
“Let’s just say construction.”
Darcy’s grin widens as if she knows something, but she nods and accepts his answer. It isn’t totally a lie, just glossing over a few details. They continue talking as the music on the jukebox changes from “Travelling Riverside Blues” to “You Shook Me All Night Long.” Clint offers to buy Darcy’s next drink. “What is that anyway?” he asks, examining the remaining orangish-yellow liquid at the bottom of the glass.
“A Mai Tai.”
“It’s very bright.”
“Yeah, but they come with a little umbrella,” she says and twirls the tiny colorful parasol between her fingers before tucking it behind her ear.
Clint smiles at her and orders another Mai Tai for her and a beer for himself. As soon as the drink is placed in front of Darcy, she picks up the new umbrella with two maraschino cherries on the end of it and offers it to him. Taking hold of her slender wrist, Clint brings it closer to his mouth and slides the alcohol-soaked fruit off the end with a flick of his tongue. Darcy’s eyes widen for a split second and he grins as a faint blush creeps into her cheeks. He lets go of her wrist, allowing her to take the umbrella back. She brings it to her mouth and the fruit disappears between her lips.
“Okay, you have to stop staring at me like that,” she says.
“Like what?” Clint asks innocently.
“Like you’re cataloging all the ways you’re going to remove my clothes with your teeth.”
“What if I am?”
Darcy swallows hard and quickly recovers. “Then you’re going to have to wait until I finish my drink.”
“Fair enough. Finish your drink,” he says, still amused by the color on her face.
Clint glances around the bar and notices the number of patrons has doubled since the drinks came. A few more enter through the heavy wooden door at the front of the bar, all wearing matching t-shirts or jerseys. Two middle aged guys come in with their faces painted in the same colors. There’s only a small, color TV attached to the wall above the bar area, so they start filling up the empty bar stools and nearby tables.
“I forgot it was game night,” Darcy says, setting down her drink. “Hope you don’t mind crowds.”
Clint shrugs. “I can manage.”
“It is interesting to watch them, though. Being a sports fan allows people of any walk of life, age, or physical ability to form a shared identity with their fellow fans,” she points out. “When their team does well, their self-confidence improves, and they say things like, ‘We won last night.’”
“That’s... very insightful,” he says.
Faltering for a moment, Darcy glances down at her drink. “Sorry, I’m interested in that kinda stuff.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Clint tells her and places his hand over hers. She looks up at him and smiles.
“That’s usually the kiss of death. Most guys I meet at school usually get that glazed over look when they realize I’m more than just a pair of tits,” she grumbles.
“Well they are pretty nice,” he comments, making her snort and roll her eyes dramatically, “But I’d rather have something between your ears than filling your bra.”
Darcy looks at him, sizing him up. “You’re alright.”
“I try,” he says and takes a drink of his beer. “So, tell me more about sports fans and their group identities.”
Darcy returns to her observation of excitable sports fans. The bar gradually fills up with what has to be the entire town all decked out in their team’s colors. Their noise and cheers drowns out the sound of the jukebox. It’s starting to feel a little too close for comfort, and Clint notices Darcy has moved closer to him to avoid the line of thirsty customers at the bar. He spies a relatively empty corner toward the back with a dart board.
“Want to play darts?” he asks, having to yell over the noise.
“I suck, but sure!”
They make their way through the crowd to the back of the bar and settle down at the last open table in the place. Clint writes their initials on the chalk scoreboard and grabs a handful of darts. He offers them to Darcy but she insists that since he’s new to town, he can go first. It’s really way too easy given what he really does for a living, but he decides to hold off on the showboating at least until later. All three darts land within a hair of each other at the center of the board. Darcy gapes at him.
“I am not following that,” she states, folding her arms over her chest.
“Oh c’mon, you can’t be that bad,” he says and retrieves the darts from the board and handing them to her. “Go on, show me what you’ve got.”
“You might want to take a few steps behind me. I told you I suck at this.”
As it turns out, Darcy really isn’t kidding about being a terrible shot. The first dart bounces off the edge of the board and falls to the floor. Number two hits the chalkboard while three manages to ricochet off the wall and almost hits him in the eye. Darcy apologizes profusely as she picks up the errant projectiles and goes to sit at the table, looking dejected.
“You just need some more practice,” he tells her, giving her a pat on the shoulder.
“I think I’m beyond just needing practice, dude.”
Clint manages to get her back on her feet and places her in front of the board. He steps up behind her, angling her body, and helps her line up the dart with the bullseye. Darcy looks at him when he moves back, still very unsure of herself. He nods toward the target and she sighs, turning back, and throws the dart. This time, it lands on one of the outer rings and sticks, earning her two points. The look of shock on her face this time is all her own doing, and she pulls him into a fierce hug.
“Okay, you’re magic because I have never been able to do that,” she exclaims.
Clint laughs. “I just know how to line up a shot. You have two more darts. Try to get them closer to the bullseye,” he tells her.
The next two don’t land any closer, but they don’t fly back at any vital parts of his body either, so he counts it as a win. They play for a round before Darcy excuses herself for a moment. Clint takes this time to consider the possibilities for the evening, he could 1) end up just having a few more drinks and head back to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s makeshift headquarters outside of town, 2) end up making out with a pretty girl who is just a little too young for him, or 3) end up having sex with a pretty girl who is just a little too young for him. Any of these would work just fine for him - being away from the crew back at the compound is enough to make this an enjoyable evening. He looks up and sees Darcy as returned with a fifth of Cuervo Gold, two shot glasses, some lime wedges, and a salt shaker. Option one suddenly seems a lot less likely based on the look on Darcy’s face.
“What are you up to?” he asks, smiling back at her as she lays out everything on the table.
“Consider it a gift for teaching me how not to suck at darts,” she says. “Now, you do know how to do tequila shots, right?”
“Just pour the tequila, smartass.”
Darcy raises an eyebrow and pours the tequila into the two narrow glasses before sitting back down across from him. The table is small enough that their knees touch when she sits. She slides one of the shots toward him. Both of them lick a patch of skin on the back of their hands, sprinkle on some salt, and lick it off again before taking the first shot. They quickly suck on a lime wedge as soon as the shot is down. Darcy winces and shakes her head.
“Smooth,” she says, coughing.
“I thought you college kids were experts at drinking,” Clint teases.
“I’m majoring in Political Science, not Cirrhosis,” Darcy explains and rests her chin on her hand, leaning toward him. “Besides, tonight’s a special occasion.”
Clint smiles at her, mimicking her by placing his elbow on the table and his chin on his own hand. “Seems like it to me.”
Darcy leans in just a little closer, their noses almost brushing. “Your turn to pour,” she tells him and sits back in her chair with a satisfied smirk.
Shaking his head, Clint takes the bottle and divides it between the shot glasses. He hands her another lime wedge and takes one for himself. This time, she has him place his arm on the table, palm facing up, and leans over to lick a short line on his forearm with her incredibly soft, wet tongue. He does his best to hide the shiver that goes through him. Darcy glances up at him with a wink before salting the line of saliva and licking it off. She lets go so she can finish taking her shot and sucking the juice from the lime. He looks her over and decides that her neck is the best place to lick salt from and moves his chair closer to hers.
Clint brushes her dark wavy hair away from her neck and leans down, licking a trail up her throat. She shudders beneath him and he grins, adding the salt to the little path on her neck. Not much of it makes it on there, but Clint is beyond caring about the shots with her this close to him and shivering. He licks slowly up the side of her neck and can feel the vibration of the moan that escapes her. Being this close, he can smell the clean scent of her shampoo.
“You’re a bad influence,” Clint breathes into her ear.
Darcy shivers again and he pulls back to finish his shot. When he looks at her again, she has the slice of lime held precariously between her lips. It isn’t just the tequila burning low in his gut this time. Clint licks a little remaining salt from his lips and leans over to take the lime from Darcy’s mouth. The lime will just end up getting in the way and Clint reaches up to remove it completely, letting it fall to the floor so he can kiss Darcy properly. He cradles her head between his hands, and she sighs into the kiss, leaning closer to him until her breasts are pressed against him.
“...okay, you’re a little too good at that,” Darcy comments and he grins, pulling her back in for another kiss.
The angle at which she’s sitting makes it hard for her to be completely seated in his lap, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. Making a tiny frustrated noise, Darcy gets out of her chair without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Clint wraps his arms around her to keep her from sliding off, though one hand ends up buried in her hair. While the sweater she's wearing was very nice and soft, his fingers are itching to find out what her bare skin feels like beneath it.
Darcy rocks in his lap, working them both up until they aren’t so much kissing as panting against each other’s mouths. He brushes the hair from her face to get a good look at her. Biting her plump bottom lip, Darcy grins at him and leans down to brush those soft lips against his ear. “Back room, five minutes.”
Darcy slides out of his lap and saunters over to the hallway across the room from their table. To anyone who might see, it just looks like she’s headed for the bathroom. She gives him one lingering look before opening a door and disappearing inside. Five minutes is going to be just way too long to wait. Clint runs a hand through his hair and takes a moment to collect himself. He gets up and plays a quick game of darts against himself to pass the time.
Before Clint goes into the back, he glances over at the crowd but sees they’re all too wrapped up in the game to notice anything else. He’s grateful for the distraction and walks over to the door Darcy had opened. She sticks her head out, looking both ways before pulling him into the store room.
“You sure the bartender won’t come back here?” he asks as she locks the door behind them.
“All the extra booze is stored under the place. There’s a trapdoor under the bar. This is just extra toilet paper and junk. No one comes back here while the place is open,” Darcy says.
Clint presses her back against the door, kissing her. “I hate to break it to you but I don’t have anything on me,” he tells her between kisses. “Wasn’t expecting to get lucky.”
“Got you covered. Just let me get my purse,” she replies with a smirk.
“In a second,” Clint says as he moves down to kiss at her neck, grazing her pulse with his teeth.
Darcy’s little intake of breath encourages him to slide one knee between her thighs. Immediately she begins rocking against his thigh, making a desperate little mewling sound in the back of her throat. Clint nips at her earlobe and she gasps again. “Did you want something?” he murmurs.
“Oh god,” she pants, “Want you to fuck me.”
“I think I can do that.”
Clint grins at her and undoes the buttons on her jeans, slipping one hand inside. Glancing down, he can see the purple cloth panties she has on and slides his fingers beneath the waistband. As if his dick weren’t hard enough already, the remaining blood in his head heads south when he feels how wet Darcy is. He swears under his breath and reclaims her mouth. With his index finger, he circles her swollen clit slowly around and around until she’s whining against his mouth and insistently tilting her hips. A shudder goes through her body when he slides two fingers inside of her.
“Can’t wait to get my cock inside of you,” he breathes into her ear. “So fucking wet.”
Darcy’s fingers grip at the fabric of his shirt as she grinds down against his hand. The look of concentration on her face makes it clear that she’s trying to get herself off with just his hand, but Clint doesn’t want to let her do that just yet. He reluctantly withdraws his hand from her, and she stares at him. This isn’t the first time that he’s been on the receiving end of a death glare like the one she’s giving him.
“I’m not done with you yet. Now get the rest of these clothes off,” he orders.
Clint takes a step back and peels off his dark grey t-shirt, tossing it to the side. He starts undoing his jeans and glances up to see that Darcy has gotten her sweater off. Clearly, that shirt did not do her breasts justice. The dark purple bra encasing them accents their roundness and contrasts her fair skin. Darcy catches him looking and grins before she slips her jeans off. She steps out of the pile of discarded shoes and denim and over to him, placing her hands over his. They had stopped at his belt when he got distracted by her perfect breasts.
“Need some help with that?” she asks, smiling up at him sweetly.
Clint stops her before she can get at his zipper and walks her back toward the heavy wooden table in the center of the room. Darcy steadies herself with both hands flat against the table behind her. The slight curve of her body makes her breasts stand out more prominently.
“I have a few things I’d like to do for you first,” he tells her and trails his fingers up her sides.
“S-sounds good,” she stammers as another shiver rolls through her.
Using his fingers, Clint traces the edge of her satiny bra, and she moans softly. Her legs spread, allowing him to close the remaining distance between them. Clint presses a kiss to her shoulder. Darcy’s entire body responds to the kiss - her arms wrap around his waist, her hips hitch up ever so slightly, and her eyes flutter shut. She still tastes faintly of lime and salt, and Clint wonders what she tastes like elsewhere. He drops one hand to her breast and cups it through the plum-colored material. Sighing, Darcy arches against him as if trying to urge him to touch her more, but Clint has something better in mind.
Clint kisses down her body and comes to kneel in front of her. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he slides them down her legs. When Clint looks up again, he notices a tattoo on her right hipbone. It’s a cartoonish version of Bettie Page with two sparrows on either side of her, both holding cherries in their beaks. While it looks like something that would have been pinned up in a soldier’s locker decades ago, it seems to fit her personality - cute, fun, and sexy.
Grinning, he has her hook one leg over his shoulder to give him better access. Darcy cries out when his tongue finds her clit, and she buries one hand in his hair. The hot, velvety feel of her against his tongue combined with the sounds that she’s making cause his cock throb painfully against his jeans. She bucks against his mouth, begging “please, please, please” in a painfully desperate voice as he undoes her with this mouth. He fucks his tongue deep inside of her, and she has to flatten her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
Withdrawing after a few more passes of his tongue, Clint presses a kiss to the smooth inside of one thigh and stands to face her. Darcy has removed the hand from her mouth but her breathing is still unsteady. She pulls him into a kiss, wrapping herself around him again, and he can feel her trembling beneath him.
“I’m going to need you to fuck me now if that’s cool,” she says, seeming to have recovered a bit of her playfulness.
“I can do that.”
Darcy reaches into the purse that Clint just now notices sitting on the table beside her and fishes out a foil square. To his credit, he's been a little preoccupied up until now. Clint holds the packet between his teeth as he undoes his jeans, pushing them down along with his briefs. He tears open the packaging, letting the foil float to the ground, and rolls the latex over his cock. Darcy is watching him with her lower lip caught between her teeth. He gently tilts her head up with one finger so that their gazes are level.
“My eyes are up here,” Clint tells her, and she laughs.
“Just one thing,” Darcy says, standing up straight and turns away from him. She leans forward with her hands against the table and looks over her shoulder at him. “Does this work for you? Because I’m pretty fond of it.”
Clint slides his hand up her smooth back. “Definitely works for me, but lay down against it so I can get in there,” he tells her.
“‘Get in there’? That’s very romantic,” she snorts.
“I’m sorry, so I can make sweet, sweet love to you from behind.”
“That’s better,” Darcy says and flattens herself against the table, folding her arms beneath her head for comfort.
Clint takes a moment to appreciate the gorgeous sight before him - Darcy’s petite, curvy frame is laid out in front of him eagerly awaiting his touch. If only there were a bit more time and a more comfortable location, the two of them could have a hell of a time. He figures he can’t complain all that much about the current situation. Darcy gasps in surprise when he enters her.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Clint groans, having to collect himself for a moment.
Making a frustrated sound, Darcy wiggles her hips against him and Clint gets the idea. He leans down over her and sweeps some of the hair away from her left ear. “Might want to hold on,” Clint says in a tone that sends another shuddering wave through her body. He rights himself and settles his hands on the curve of her hips as he begins to fuck her. Each thrust has Darcy crying out, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sleek, wooden table. She props herself up on her forearms, and it gives her just enough leverage to push back on his cock, instantly doubling the friction.
“Harder!” she rasps out.
From the audible change in her breathing, Clint can tell the change in pace is working. His hips snap against Darcy’s ass while he holds her in place. He fucks relentlessly into her tight warmth, feeling pressure building deep inside of him, and he hears her sharp intake of breath just before she comes apart beneath him. The way her pussy flutters around his cock makes him groan, and he has to take a second to steady himself. He leans over Darcy’s shuddering frame, trying to catch his breath.
“Doing okay, darlin’?” Clint says, pressing a kiss to her shoulder after she’s gone still and quiet.
“Mmm,” Darcy hums. “Can we change positions? Kinda sore.”
Clint gingerly withdraws himself from her body and allows her to pull herself into a standing position. Darcy turns around to look a him, her hair a frazzled mess around her flushed face. She glances down and raises an eyebrow at what she sees.
“I think I can help you with that,” she says.
“Please do,” Clint replies, grinning at her as she sinks to her knees in front of him.
Darcy peels the condom off, discarding it over her shoulder, and wraps one warm hand around his cock. Clint bites back a groan and places his hand against the edge of the table for stability. Her hand works over his dick in firm strokes, and that tension that had edged off a few moments earlier is suddenly back and steadily growing at the base of his spine. From this position, Clint can see the slight movement of her breasts as she jerks him off. They had already been in there long enough, but if he had more time, he would have removed that bra and gotten his hands and mouth on them.
“Fuck, your tits are perfect,” he groans.
“Mmm, yeah they are,” Darcy purrs up at him, tilting her head back to give him a better view. “Gonna come on them? Hm?”
Darcy punctuates the question by squeezing her fist around his cock. With her other hand, she gently cups his balls and continues to pump his cock. Clint groans again and feels the pressure deep inside start to give way. He clings desperately to the table as his orgasm rips through him. Pearly white ropes of come splash onto Darcy’s ample cleavage, crisscrossing over her fair skin. His heart pounds so loudly that he’s sure that Darcy can hear it. When his cock seems spent, Darcy removes her hand from it, raising it to her lips to lick away the excess. Closing his eyes, Clint slowly sinks to the ground beside her. He moves Darcy’s hand so he can kiss her.
“Thought you were gonna kill me, girl,” he pants against her lips and she grins.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Clint leans down to clean up the mess he left all over her chest. Darcy’s head drops back with a low moan as his tongue laps the faintly bitter tasting fluid. She fists a handful of his hair, tugging his mouth back to her own. Her tongue slides eagerly into his mouth, and he wraps his arms around her waist, allowing her to suck the taste of himself from his tongue. His head swims a little at the thought and fuck, if only they had a little more time.
“We should get out of here,” Clint tells her, holding her face in both hands.
“Yeah, I’ll go out first and see if the coast is clear.”
Darcy gives him one quick kiss before standing and searching for her discarded clothing. She dresses quickly and combs her fingers through her hair to smooth it down. Clint tugs his jeans and underwear back up over his hips and replaces his t-shirt. He grabs the condom and wrapper from the floor, tucking them into his pocket to throw away later. Carefully, Darcy checks outside the door before she steps out, waving her hand for him to follow her. Clint takes a look at the room to make sure they aren’t leaving any evidence behind and follows her out.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, they meet each other outside in the parking lot. Darcy is leaning against Clint’s car, somehow managing to look adorably sexy in her heavy coat.
“You would drive a muscle car,” she comments.
“That a bad thing?” Clint asks, tugging at the zipper on her coat.
“I wasn’t complaining.”
Clint grins and leans down to kiss her. “Get in, I’ll drive you home.”
As it turns out, Darcy doesn’t live very far from the place. Clint gets out and walks Darcy to the apartment building’s entrance. She digs a set of keys from her purse and looks up at him for a moment, a glimmer of hope in her big blue eyes.
“You can, uh, come up if you want,” she says, biting her lip.
“Trust me, I’d really like to-”
Darcy interrupts, “But you can’t. Gotcha.”
Clint places a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “It’s true. If I didn’t have to get back, I would take you upstairs and take your clothes off with my teeth.”
Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “... so you’re really sure you can’t come up?” she asks, voice sounding a little shaken.
“Yeah,” he tells her.
They end up making out against the door of the apartment building for a good five minutes. Clint’s upstairs brain takes over at that point, and he forces himself to step away from Darcy. She pouts a little but shoves him gently toward the street, telling him that he needs to go before she drags him up to her apartment. He returns to his car and smiles when she tells him, “See you.”
“Not if I see you first,” Clint replies and gets in his car.
Around seven the following morning, Clint finds himself in Coulson’s office wishing that he had just stuck to beer the night before. If Coulson is angry, Clint can’t tell by that neutral look he has perfected over the years. Coulson slides a manila folder across the desk to him with his new assignment. Inside are profiles of two scientists - Foster and Selvig - who Clint is going to be watching. Nothing out of the ordinary. He flips to the third page and sees Darcy’s face attached to the third profile.
“Please continue reading through the file, Agent Barton,” Coulson intones.
Behind Darcy’s profile are a series of photographs of Darcy and him arriving at her apartment and walking up to the door. Clint suddenly feels like he just ended up in an episode of Cheaters with these surveillance photos. He swallows and looks at Coulson’s completely unamused face.
“I see you’ve already gotten acquainted with Miss Lewis.”