(mentions of past!Loki x fem!reader)

I wrote this for a writing challenge on Tumblr. I had the prompt: I hate him/ Well, you've chosen the perfect revenge: mainlining tequila.

The moment you saw Loki, you knew the night was going to take a bad turn. The two of you had been lovers once, but it had ended badly. Now he'd shown up at Tony's party with a new lady on his arm. You didn't care about that. What you did care about was the fact that it seemed like he was trying to flaunt himself and her everywhere.

The smug look on his face made you want to slap him until he couldn't see straight. However, the last time that happened, Pepper threatened your job. You didn't want that. You enjoyed your job with Stark Industries. That left one option. Drinking until you couldn't see straight. Your turned on your heel and headed toward the bar that Tony always had at his parties.

"Tequila, Nat and keep it coming please." Natasha raised a brow at you, but nodded. A moment later, she slid a shot of tequila your way. You downed it quickly and she refilled. And again. And again. And again until you lost track of how many you'd had. The annoyance you'd felt up on seeing Loki had worn off, but you weren't feeling like yourself.

"You know what, Nat? I think I should just swear off men altogether," you said. Or at least that's what you thought you said. What came out was just some slurred together words. Natasha chuckled softly and shook her head. She waved to someone over your shoulder. You soon felt a hand wrap around your waist. "Hey, watch it buddy." You looked too see that it was your friend Clint. You smiled.

"CLINT! I MISSED YOU!" you cried a little too loudly. Clint practically dragged you off the barstool and outside. He sat your down on the nearest chair as he waited for the valet to bring his vehicle. Loki appeared a moment later with his girlfriend. He nodded curtly at Clint before his eyes found you. You flipped him off while you tried not to fall out of your chair. Loki rolled his eyes but before he could say anything, the valet returned with Clint's truck.

Clint helped you into the truck and got in without saying a word. Only when you had been driving several minutes did he speak. "So that's why you were drinking. Loki." You scoffed. "Ugh. I hate him." Clint couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, you've chosen the perfect revenge: mainlining tequila." You giggled, something Clint loved hearing.

"You're funny, Clint. I've always thought you were funny. And smart. And cute...like really cute. You have pretty eyes." Clint shook his head. He knew you were just saying those things because you were drunk, not because you really meant them. "Go to sleep, Y/N." You firmly told him no. "I don't want to. I want to talk to you. I gotta tell you stuff. I gotta tell you that I went out with Loki to get over you. It worked too. A little too well. He's such a prick."

"You don't mean any of this, Y/N. I'm going to take you home and let you sleep it off." You protested the entire way back to your apartment. Clint had to physically grab you out of the truck and hoist you over his shoulder to get you inside. Turned out to be a bad idea when he stopped outside your apartment and you proceeded to throw up all over his back.

"Sorry," you muttered as Clint set you down inside. You were looking a little more sober than before. "I-I think I have a shirt of yours here you can put on." You took an ungainly step and tripped into Clint. He caught you before you could stick your hand in the sick on his back. "Just...go get in bed. I'll find my shirt."

Finding the shirt was easy enough. Clint knew exactly which one it was since it was your favorite of his. He also noticed several other pieces of his clothing from the last time he'd crashed there. After he changed shirts, he grabbed a glass of water and some aspirin out of the bathroom. He expected you to be passed out on your bed, but you weren't. "Stay with me?" you asked in a soft voice.

Clint knew it was a bad idea. He didn't want you to think that he took anything you said while you were drunk to heart. But when he looked into your pleading eyes, he relented. "Sure. Lay down." With a small smile, you did as he said. Clint kicked off his shoes before climbing into bed with you. You snuggled close to him and whispered as you drifted off to sleep. "I love you, Clint." Clint bit back a sigh. You wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, but he would. He kissed the top of your head. "Love you too, sweetheart."

The next morning, Clint was up before you. He decided to get up and cook you some breakfast. But first he needed a shower. He grabbed the clothes he'd seen last night and grabbed a shower. Sure, he smelled like you know, but it was better than smelling like a bar. Now he could cook breakfast. And that was what woke you.

You came staggering out of the room as Clint was plating up breakfast. "Morning, Sunshine!" You let out a groan and shot a glare in his direction. Clint laughed softly. "You know, you really shouldn't drink tequila, Y/N. It gets you so much more drunk a lot quicker than anything else." You waved him off as you sank down in a chair. Clint pushed a cup of coffee your way.

"What happened last night?" Clint glanced at you from the corner of his eye. "I figured you wouldn't remember. Let's just reiterate that you shouldn't drink tequila." He was refusing to meet your gaze. You narrowed your eyes. "Clint...what happened?" Clint licked his lips. "You said some things you didn't mean and I put you to bed. That's it." You pushed the plate away. "Clinton Francis Barton, you never lie to me. Don't start now."

Clint sighed. It wasn't often that you used his full name. "Okay. You said I was funny. And smart." Your brows rose a little. "That's not so bad." Clint cleared his throat and went on, "You also said I was really cute and had pretty eyes." Your eyes widened. It was obvious that you hadn't intended on saying anything. "Oh god, shoot me." Clint laughed then you asked what else.

"You asked me to stay with you. As you were falling asleep you said-you said." He was having trouble getting the words out. "I said that I love you, didn't I?" Clint nodded, prompting you to let out yet another groan. "I'm sorry, Clint. That wasn't how I wanted to tell you. I was really hoping for something more romantic." Clint froze in place. You had meant it?

Suddenly, you said, "Wait! I thought I heard you say it back." Clint felt the blush creep up his neck to his face. He turned away from you. Why was he acting like a lovesick teenager? You were his best friend not some stranger. He heard the chair scraping across the floor and soon felt your arms wrap around him. You rested your cheek on his back.

"I did mean it, by the way. I do love you, Clint," you whispered. Clint turned around so he could see your face. "I meant it too." You smiled and he leaned in to kiss you. Then he suddenly pulled back. "No offense, Y/n, but really, you shouldn't drink tequila." You brought your hand up to your mouth with an embarrassed laugh. "Sorry. To be continued?" Clint beamed. "Try and stop me." He placed a kiss to your forehead and let you go brush your teeth.