For several long seconds Clint just stared at the closed bathroom door and tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. He had fucked up - again - that much he could put together in his head. Probably finally reached the limit of how much whining and self-pity in a week Natasha could stand before she exploded, just like he had feared... He had known it, he should never have started talking about that fucking dream...
But that wasn't what she had said and if he blended out that one most important sentence in her enraged little speech, he just kept on bullshitting himself, and her.
I should have killed myself before ever letting you take me.
That had been expected of her, no doubt, and in telling her, Clint thought of his life not worth all that much damage he had caused... He had basically made it sound like he thought the same of her and her right of absolution.
Suddenly he couldn't stand sitting in this now empty room with too much dry air and cutting silence anymore. He stormed outside without knowing where he was going. The humid warmth hit him like a wall when he opened the door, thankfully, and awoke him from that sudden state of frozen shock and self-disgust before he could do the next stupid thing and just disappear for a few hours. Maybe he would have done that weeks - days - ago, before Natasha and him had renewed certain promises and made a few new. No matter how much he felt like shit right now, no need to do the same to her, even more than he already had.
After another few seconds of standing around like an idiot with a stupid, lost frown on his face, he decided, he could do his thinking of how to deal with this situation as well here, in this bad excuse for a garden, without Natasha having to worry about him on top of all.
He left the door open half an inch to let her know, he was still around and pulled himself a folding chair close that leaned against the wall, more than a few years old probably and fairly weathered, but at least it didn't crash under his weight.
Well, then, how to make up for this new masterpiece of bad rhetoric of his? If it had been just that, it would have been easy. He could have tried explaining to Natasha, tell her, he hadn't been serious, he hadn't meant it. Unfortunately she knew him much too well to buy that.
Something unexpectedly touching his leg had him startle so much that he nearly reached for a weapon that he didn't even have with him. Only then he recognized a small dark shadow that he became familiar with more and more, strolling around his chair.
"Don't look at me like that, bud. This is your fault", he grumbled, reaching out for the kitty's head without even realizing, mimicking the way Natasha had caressed it earlier.
Somehow that appreciative purr answering him helped to turn away from that worst panic and self-hate and focus on the problem on hand. Manipulative little beast. Clint rolled his eyes at the animal and quickly crossed his arms, trying to ignore that ongoing restless caress of fur against his legs.
After what she had taken from his words, it really was no miracle, Natasha was angry with him. He could try make that right, of course, repeat all the things he had told her countless times. That she was worth his decision back then, that he had never regretted it for even a second and how much she had made up for her past mistakes in all these last years.
He could tell her all that again, but what good would it be, how did he expect her to believe it when he couldn't, once she told him the same? He had promised her to be honest with her, always, that was what had brought this whole mess up, and he wouldn't make it even worse by lying to her now.
"You've chosen the wrong household to creep into, buddy", he murmured, without even realizing he was already patting that damn cat again. "Can't even fucking take care of what's most important to me."
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Date: 2014-03-26 02:37 pm (UTC)From:But that wasn't what she had said and if he blended out that one most important sentence in her enraged little speech, he just kept on bullshitting himself, and her.
I should have killed myself before ever letting you take me.
That had been expected of her, no doubt, and in telling her, Clint thought of his life not worth all that much damage he had caused... He had basically made it sound like he thought the same of her and her right of absolution.
Suddenly he couldn't stand sitting in this now empty room with too much dry air and cutting silence anymore. He stormed outside without knowing where he was going. The humid warmth hit him like a wall when he opened the door, thankfully, and awoke him from that sudden state of frozen shock and self-disgust before he could do the next stupid thing and just disappear for a few hours. Maybe he would have done that weeks - days - ago, before Natasha and him had renewed certain promises and made a few new. No matter how much he felt like shit right now, no need to do the same to her, even more than he already had.
After another few seconds of standing around like an idiot with a stupid, lost frown on his face, he decided, he could do his thinking of how to deal with this situation as well here, in this bad excuse for a garden, without Natasha having to worry about him on top of all.
He left the door open half an inch to let her know, he was still around and pulled himself a folding chair close that leaned against the wall, more than a few years old probably and fairly weathered, but at least it didn't crash under his weight.
Well, then, how to make up for this new masterpiece of bad rhetoric of his? If it had been just that, it would have been easy. He could have tried explaining to Natasha, tell her, he hadn't been serious, he hadn't meant it. Unfortunately she knew him much too well to buy that.
Something unexpectedly touching his leg had him startle so much that he nearly reached for a weapon that he didn't even have with him. Only then he recognized a small dark shadow that he became familiar with more and more, strolling around his chair.
"Don't look at me like that, bud. This is your fault", he grumbled, reaching out for the kitty's head without even realizing, mimicking the way Natasha had caressed it earlier.
Somehow that appreciative purr answering him helped to turn away from that worst panic and self-hate and focus on the problem on hand. Manipulative little beast. Clint rolled his eyes at the animal and quickly crossed his arms, trying to ignore that ongoing restless caress of fur against his legs.
After what she had taken from his words, it really was no miracle, Natasha was angry with him. He could try make that right, of course, repeat all the things he had told her countless times. That she was worth his decision back then, that he had never regretted it for even a second and how much she had made up for her past mistakes in all these last years.
He could tell her all that again, but what good would it be, how did he expect her to believe it when he couldn't, once she told him the same? He had promised her to be honest with her, always, that was what had brought this whole mess up, and he wouldn't make it even worse by lying to her now.
"You've chosen the wrong household to creep into, buddy", he murmured, without even realizing he was already patting that damn cat again. "Can't even fucking take care of what's most important to me."