In all honesty Clint had mostly stopped because kicking against wood and metal didn't get him very far. He was already searching for the next thing to break, with his hands shoved down his pockets, still trembling hard, and his vision blinded by blood-red shades of wrath.
He had nearly forgotten that Natasha was there before she spoke up, but that tone in her voice - uneasy, shocked, nearly scared - and the way she hugged herself... It was like a bottle of ice water emptied on his head, long before he even really realized what she just had said. He had done that, he made her feel like that... Not a surprise she wanted him to leave.
Had she really just said, she wanted him to leave?
"What?"
His voice suddenly sounded very quiet, helpless and choked. That short anger fit already faded, drowned by the much more powerful, dreadful feeling of fear and self-loathing. So that was how great he helped her, she rather wanted him away from her than deal with him any longer. There couldn't be any better motivation to get his shit together immediately.
He made a beeline for her while he was still trying to come up with something to say and finally gave up on it, just pulled her in his arms instead. He held her tighter to his chest than all day, with his too hot face pressed against her shoulder. That way he could at least pretend to himself, it was sweat on his cheek, not the sudden desperation taking hold of him.
"You think I would do that, Nat? Leave you alone with this?"
He forced himself to let go off her enough to look at her, sick of hiding suddenly. She would know he was hurt, just like her, no matter if he showed her or not, so whom was he trying to fool?
"I'm not running, okay? I'm a catastrophe and a coward and a mess, but I'm not running from you, ever."
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Date: 2014-06-13 12:42 pm (UTC)From:He had nearly forgotten that Natasha was there before she spoke up, but that tone in her voice - uneasy, shocked, nearly scared - and the way she hugged herself... It was like a bottle of ice water emptied on his head, long before he even really realized what she just had said. He had done that, he made her feel like that... Not a surprise she wanted him to leave.
Had she really just said, she wanted him to leave?
"What?"
His voice suddenly sounded very quiet, helpless and choked. That short anger fit already faded, drowned by the much more powerful, dreadful feeling of fear and self-loathing. So that was how great he helped her, she rather wanted him away from her than deal with him any longer. There couldn't be any better motivation to get his shit together immediately.
He made a beeline for her while he was still trying to come up with something to say and finally gave up on it, just pulled her in his arms instead. He held her tighter to his chest than all day, with his too hot face pressed against her shoulder. That way he could at least pretend to himself, it was sweat on his cheek, not the sudden desperation taking hold of him.
"You think I would do that, Nat? Leave you alone with this?"
He forced himself to let go off her enough to look at her, sick of hiding suddenly. She would know he was hurt, just like her, no matter if he showed her or not, so whom was he trying to fool?
"I'm not running, okay? I'm a catastrophe and a coward and a mess, but I'm not running from you, ever."