study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

"Hey."

Great. Just great. That last shot had still been a catastrophe, but Clint had just felt himself slowly slipping into zen mode - or at least force his way into it - when the silence was broken. Since he still didn't find anything to say, he decided to go on with his training anyway. Natasha would tell him if she wanted to do anything else than watch him embarrass himself.

Probably not the best mindset to get his shit together, admittedly. He mostly was good at shooting because he hadn't done anything else since he had been a kid. He knew he could do it, that there were only a few people in the world - if anything - who were on his skill level with a bow.

Right now he wasn't any of that, though, and maybe he was just too tired after a day of pretending to fool himself even more. It was still there, underneath his skin, in the twitching muscles of life long training, just waiting to be used, that certain emptiness and focus in his head he needed for his weapon. But it slipped from his grasp like a wet snake whenever his eyes rested on the target.

Well, at least the arrow hit the target again this time. Or actually it cut straight through the thin wooden edge, then clonked against one the solid metal hangers that fastened the whole thing to the wall. Then it fell, with a too loud, crunching noise that let Clint know that there went his work of the late afternoon.

"Gets you thinking, doesn't it?", he said flatly as he set his bow aside before he could damage even more, and went to get the broken gear. "Probably really better that we call this whole thing off before it starts. I mean, look at me. How am I supposed to protect a family? I'm a fucking wreck, Nat."

The hardly held in aggression exploded finally when he touched that damn arrow head he had just ruined. He stared at it as if he had never seen one before and hurled it against the rough concrete of the nearest wall then. Well, that felt surprisingly good. Kicking against the wood boarding of the target felt even better, mostly because it hurt and even pain was better than feeling nothing or just anger right now. So he did it again, and then a little more. What good was any of this shit anyway, when now he couldn't even do the only thing he had been capable of?

He acknowledged her presence but kept training, so Natasha sat down in the middle of the staircase to watch him. She usually loved watching him train; she had never met anyone else even close to as adept with the bow and arrow, and it was a thing of beauty to watch such skill at work. He made it look effortless and moved with such grace that she could get lost just watching his serene face and the dance of muscles under his skin.

But not today.

She winced visibly at the miss and the awful sound it made that signaled a ruined arrowhead, but that was nothing compared to the words that followed. She knew he was upset and finally letting it out, knew he was talking about the baby, but there was a part of her that wondered if he meant them as well. Maybe it was all too much, and if he couldn’t look at her the same after this then could they really stay together?

She wanted to ask him, could taste the question on her tongue, but suddenly he exploded, all the pain and anger coming out violently, and she could only watch him, helplessly. What could she say or do to make any of this better? How could she make him understand? She felt her heart aching, felt herself teetering on that edge again. She couldn’t fall, she just couldn’t, but she couldn’t leave him to fall on his own either. But she could give him a way out if he wanted it.

“You don’t have to do this, Clint,” she said after he had stopped kicking things. Getting to her feet she descended the stairs and stood at the bottom, her arms wrapped instinctively around her stomach. “I can take care of it on my own. You can stay here, or go home, and I’ll find you when it’s over.” It was a genuine offer; if it was too much for him she could do it herself, she could be strong for the both of them. If he didn’t want to be involved he didn’t have to, and then when they saw each other again they could figure out whether it was better to ‘call the whole thing off’.

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."

It wasn’t that she wanted him to leave, but if dealing with this head on hurt him this bad then maybe it would be easier for the both of them to spend some time apart and deal with it separately. Easier, maybe, but would it be better? If they didn’t deal with it together, how would they make it through the aftermath?

For the first time in a very long time she wanted to back away from him when he approached so quickly, unsure of what he intended to do, but when he pulled her into his arms and held her so damn tight she felt all her walls crumbling around her, everything she had been trying to keep suppressed bubbling to the surface.

She didn’t answer his question, just slid her arms around him and hugged him back, clinging to him like a lifeline. She didn’t want to do this alone, she wanted him by her side, but if it was too much for him then she would do whatever it took. She didn’t need him, she didn’t need anyone, she never had, but she wanted him, wanted him more than anything.

When he forced her to look at him she could see her own feelings mirrored back at her and that first hint of vulnerability became clear in her eyes. She tried so hard to hide it, to remain strong, but face with such pain and misery it was hard to keep her own to herself.

“But… will you hate me?” she asked, her voice sounding almost childlike as she voiced the fear that had settled so deep in her heart, the one that scared her more than the rest. “After this, after I do this…”

"Not you, Nat. We do this. We decided this."

That look on her face hurt so much more than all the fears and doubt Clint had fought all day. Of course this was a catastrophe, the worst that ever could have happened and no one had said, it would be easy. It would be haunting them... just like so many other things they had done. And they had gone through all of those together and made it through, because they had always been there for each other. They would do the same with this crisis, for both their sanity, before one of them would break beyond repair.

He let go off her with one arm to cup her face with his still cold, trembling hand, push that baseball cap she was still wearing out of her face to make her look at him. That she even considered he was able of hating her, hurt, but it wasn't like he knew where it was coming from. Natasha had never had anyone to stick through everything going on in her life with her. No family, no one she had let close enough to her for it.

Except for him. Even if he had felt the wish, he would never have left her alone with this. He wouldn't be one of these assholes to vanish when it became difficult.

That still didn't make any of this easy, though. If he wanted her to believe him, he had to be honest with her. He couldn't go on pretending this didn't touch him to the core, not after that scene that had just happened. He still didn't know fucking why, since the idea of having a kid still scared the shit out of him, but that was how he felt and he couldn't change it. It didn't help lying about that.

"We'll probably end up hating ourselves a little", he finally said, after long seconds of just caressing her cheek and letting her see all these hurtful emotions on his face. "But Nat... Why should I hate you? We've made this mess, both of us. It's our decision whether we give this a shot. We're doing what we both can live best with. That doesn't change the way I feel about you, ever. I love you, Nat, not what your body can or can't do."

He kept saying ‘we’. We decided this, but had they really? He had asked her what she wanted and she had told him her decision. I can’t, I need but what about Clint?

He was so damn supportive, almost to a fault, and Natasha wanted to bury her face in his chest and hold him tightly and let him sooth it all away, but it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they had to go through this in the first place, but it also wasn’t fair what she was doing to him. Maybe she had been pushing him away as doing it alone would be easier as she wouldn’t have to see what it was doing to him.

Shivering at his touch she made herself meet his eyes when prompted, made herself face all the hurt he was feeling; made herself recognize that this wasn’t just about her. He was opening himself up for her, dropping that mask and letting her see the true depth of his pain. He wanted to be strong for her just as badly as she did, but all the lying would only hurt them worse in the end. She could live with regret, had for most of her life, but this was different. They had to walk into it with both eyes open, knowing full well how each other felt about all of it.

When he had finished speaking Natasha shook her head. “Our decision, but I never really gave you a choice,” she said, her voice cracking faintly. She had to ask, had to know; he deserved that, deserved everything. “Clint... what do you want? If it was your decision to make, and yours alone?”

"I don't know, Nat. I really don't."

And there it was, the question he had run from all day. It was a little less horrible than he had expected, now that he had already shown Natasha how bad he really felt. But he still couldn't put it in words, why.

He took that silly cap carefully off her, to feel her closer, at least try get some of the usual tenderness and carefulness between them back, after they had worked each other up so much unwillingly during the day. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes to allow himself really ponder about this one question for the first time.

Immediately that tightness in his throat, the pain in his stomach returned, but this time he fought it back and rather concentrated on telling Natasha what she needed to hear. If they wanted to do this together, they had to be on the same side, equally sure about how to handle this. Or it would come between them eventually, and he was not gonna let that happen.

"I can just tell you what I don't want. I don't want this blood on my hands, but as far as we know, this will happen either way, so I guess it's best to cut this whole thing short. It's easier for both of us. Easier for you, I hope. Because I don't want you to get destroyed by this, Nat. That's what most important to me. That you're safe and happy."

He faltered then, because that wasn't all and she would see now that they were so close. See that restlessness in his eyes, the unwillingness to make this decision just yet. He had no problem let her make it, but that was not what she asked of him.

"Dunno, maybe I'll feel better after that checkup tomorrow, when we speak to that doctor. I just want to know how high the risk really is. If we take it then or not... That's up to you, Nat. I've told you, I'm with you, whatever you do."

The answer maybe wasn’t what she wanted to hear but it was honest and it was expected. It was a big decision, one they had never expected to face, so of course it wasn’t so easy to make.

Leaning into his touch, Natasha clenched the back of his shirt in her fists and closed her eyes. He was still here, he was still with her, and no matter what happened he would be by her side.

She had thought he was done talking, that they would be stuck in limbo again with neither of them knowing what to say nor how to say it, but thankfully he knew they couldn’t carry on that way, and he knew that she needed more than an “I don’t know”.

He was still unsure, that much was obvious, and while he spoke of them making this decision together, it seemed quite clear that he would bow to her wishes in the end. If she felt it was too risky, if she felt there was no possibility she would carry to term, then he would stand by her as she terminated the pregnancy before she could miscarry, whether he wanted to or not.

That wasn’t the full truth, though and what he followed up with made her body freeze. He wanted to know how high the risk really was before deciding, meaning that he didn’t believe her that it was impossible. But no, it wasn’t quite that. At first it had been the doctors in the Red Room that had told her that her body was a ruin and would never birth a live child, so they had supposedly fixed it so she would never conceive again. Clearly that was a lie. Then it had been S.H.I.E.L.D. who had confirmed the diagnosis, but what it that was another lie? And even if they weren’t lying, maybe they saw what they expected to see. Maybe...

Taking a shuddering breath she nodded against him. “Okay,” she said, not elaborating. If he wanted to wait to decide then they would wait. If he wanted to hear it from a doctor directly that it was too risky to even try, then that was what they would do. And if her diagnosis didn’t turn out how she expected... no, she couldn’t let herself think that yet.

Clint already opened his mouth to tell her again that it was her decision only when she froze in his arms. But then the discussion would either start again or they would be just where they had been in the afternoon, trying not to hurt each other and still doing so.

Maybe he needed to be egoistic about this part. He needed to know, to be sure. It wouldn't change his decision if it didn't effect hers, but he had to face this with both eyes open. He had run too often in his life and fallen flat on his face too often for that. If he wanted to support Natasha, he needed to stay in balance himself, somehow.

So he stayed silent and wrapped both arms around her again when she nodded, cradled her close against his body and stayed like this with his lips pressed gently against her forehead, nothing else. Just letting her feel he was there, now and in whatever would come up next, like promised. He didn't ask her to go upstairs or if she wanted to head for bed - he had a feeling it had to be evening by now - he said nothing at all. At least this time the silence didn't hurt as much.

She felt small and vulnerable in his arms this evening, and that hurt too. But that's what partners were for, right? He had to be the strong part on such evenings and provide whatever she needed.

He didn’t say anything more, just pulled her back into his arms, and Natasha thought that maybe they would be okay. He was willing to be there for her, to do whatever she ultimately thought was best, so she had to be willing to do the same. She had to be willing to consider other options, and to not let her fear make the decision for her. This doctor would be able to give her a completely unbiased opinion, unlike those in the past, and that could be worth everything.

For what felt like a long time they just stood like that in silence before she finally stirred in his arms. Leaning back she looked up to him, trying to convey with that look just how grateful she was for him, how much she loved and appreciated him. Stepping up on her tip toes she placed a brief kiss on his lips before finally releasing the death grip she had had on his shirt.

“I’m going to get a bath. You can join me if you want,” she said. It was an offer if he wanted to, if he wanted the close comfort, but not a request if he would rather continue his training or do his own thing. “But afterwards we are both going to eat something.”

"Sounds very good."

After that long afternoon in the sun and especially that little anger fit from just now - that already began to feel like a strange distant dream in his head - Clint felt sweaty and uncomfortable. Relaxing a bit in warm water, holding Natasha whenever she needed it, waiting for enough tiredness to sleep to kick... Better than anything else they could have come up with, really.

He didn't comment on the eating part because he was pretty sure, he wouldn't get down more than one or two bites again, but he didn't want to upset her. So he just smiled shortly and lead the way upstairs, leaving his gear where it was. He could take care of that tomorrow or something. Fidgeting around with his weapons had never seemed so unimportant to him. Especially when it looked like he couldn't handle them anymore anyway.

He pushed that new uneasy worry away like he had done it with most of his feelings through the day, shook it off like a nasty insect. No time to worry about his own trifles right now.

He left it to Natasha to prepare the bath because he wasn't sure how her stomach was doing and what kind of smells she could handle. Sitting on the tub edge with his hands folded in his lap, he watched her as he could feel at least one of the desired goals of the evening already kicking in... He suddenly felt incredibly tired.

She knew he was still reluctant to eat anything, and honestly she felt the same, but she knew they had to. She would likely wake up sick in the morning again, and with little to bring up it would be even more unpleasant. As for Clint, he wasn’t doing himself any favours either, and the last thing either of them needed was him getting lightheaded while driving into town. For now she let it go, though, deciding to press the issue later, after a relaxing bath. Maybe it would help.

Once they were in the spotless bathroom Natasha drew a warm bath, opting out of any scented products. She’d had enough with the cleaning supplies, so a mild soap was all she planned on using this time. Gathering towels and cloths to set within reach, she stripped off the sweaty clothes and tossed them toward the washer. Somehow they had fallen into the routine of Clint being the one to take care of washing the laundry so she thought little of it as she stepped into the tub. Settling back against the side, she held her hand out to Clint to join her. She knew he wasn’t in the mood to really let his hands wander right now, but she really didn’t want him touching her stomach right now either; she just wanted to wrap her arms around him and settle her face against his shoulder so hopefully he would accept the reversed positions this time.

Clint had not expected Natasha to want too much touch at all, so he was pleasantly surprised when she invited him to her instead of retreating to the other side of the tub. With the exhaustion growing, he had just come as far as peeling his shirt off so far, but now he hurried a little more, adding the rest of his clothes to the pile she had built already.

The water had the perfect temperature and he found himself sighing a bit, a hint of relaxation emerging when he sat down between Natasha's legs and leaned back against her carefully. She seemed far better than in the morning and he could just hope, she would tell him if he got too heavy or something. He nuzzled his cheek against her shoulder when he sank deeper under the surface and rested his hand on her knee soothingly.

"You know, sooner or later we'll grow fins if we keep on being in the water so much", he murmured, just a shadow of his usual humor, but you got points for trying, right?

She didn’t want to be touched, not really, but she wanted the comfort of his body against hers where she could be in complete control of the situation. Thankfully Clint didn’t argue or question it, and actually seemed eager to agree.

When he leaned back against her she wrapped her arms loosely around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her breasts were still tender but his weight against them wasn’t enough to really bother her at the moment so she closed her eyes and settled in, breathing a sigh of her own.

“Might not be so bad if we get gills to go with them,” she answered, her lips curling just slightly in the ghost of a smile against his skin. It was funny, though. Between the showers, baths and the beach they had spent more time in the water in the past week than probably the previous couple of months combined.

"Hm-Hm. You'd make a ravishing mermaid."

It felt strange to hear himself chuckle after a day of crisis. But what good would it do to stick to gloom and glare all the time? They knew that they were facing something really bad and it would take them time to recover from this. It certainly wouldn't help if they forbade themselves every little smile.

Or every closeness. Her lips touching him reminded him how much he loved it to be near her, even if it was just the smallest gesture of affection. They belonged together, they cared for each other... That wouldn't just go away, no matter what happened. He let just his thumb circle softly over her thigh and closed his eyes to let that growing exhaustion settle in his body. He actually felt like he could sleep at least for a few hours right now.

It felt good to hear him chuckle, to feel that slight vibration in his chest. There wouldn’t be much cause for mirth for the next who knew how long, so she would take what she could get. “As long as I don’t have to wear seashells. They don’t look overly comfortable.”

Slowly she could feel the tension in her muscle fading and exhaustion taking over. 9am still sounded so far away, but if she could sleep for at least a couple hours of the remaining time that would be a blessing.

“We probably shouldn’t stay in long,” she said, nuzzling against his neck. At this rate they might just both fall asleep in here, which would make for a rude awakening when the water cooled off.

"Right."

Clint sighed just at the prospect of moving and leaned his head back for her to get closer against him. Of course she was right, cold water would quite efficiently eliminate any kind of relaxation they had just found.

It had gotten late, but he had a feeling, sleep still wasn't close enough to try and close his eyes in spite of all exhaustion. But maybe he could Natasha help with hers.

"Want me to give you a back massage, red? Helps you falling asleep maybe."

When he leaned back against her she closed her eyes and held him a little tighter. She didn’t want to move either, didn’t want to lose the first moment of peace they’d had all day, but it was inevitable.

“What about you?” she asked, placing a brief kiss against his shoulder. “You need some sleep too so you don’t drive us into a ditch tomorrow.”

"I'll try once you're out, I promise."

Clint answered her gesture with turning his head to her, to softly graze her temple with his lips. Tenderness, care, closeness. That was all they had right now. And him at least taking care of himself enough to not worry her. Technically he had driven cars on a gallon of blood loss or high like a fucking satellite, after some asshole had injected drugs into his system, so a little tiredness wouldn't kill them. But Natasha didn't need one more weigh on her mind.

"I'll down a pill or two if necessary. We both need to be fit tomorrow."

With a still very unwilling sigh he wriggled out of her arms - trying to avoid a discussion made it easier - and got out of the tub to take one of the prepared towels. He held it out for Natasha in his hands, inviting her to step in so he could dry her.

"Want to have that snack before? There's ice cream in the freezer or the rest of that salad. Or I can cook you something."

Try and succeed were two different things, but she had to trust that Clint would take care of himself, for her if for no other reason. Tomorrow was important, and they both had to be in the best shape that they could be, considering the circumstances. “Okay,” she agreed.

Very reluctantly she let him out of her arms. She knew he was trying to keep her from pressing the matter, but she let him go anyhow. Pulling the plug on the bath she got to her feet and stepped out and into the towel Clint held ready for her. “I think I’ll just stick with toast or crackers for now,” she said. Maybe tomorrow she could eat a more balanced meal, but for now sticking with what was bland and comforting sounded like a better idea.

"Crackers in bed. We're turning into one of these couples", Clint chuckled.

He dried her body gently, carefully but without drawing anything out, just making sure she wouldn't be freezing, and fastened the towel around her chest then, placing a quick kiss on her shoulder. He felt fresher now, the dust off the day washed off, and a lazy tiredness had settled in his bones that he welcomed with open arms. He brushed his own towel half-heartedly over his chest and fastened it around his hips, already half out of the door to get busy in the kitchen.

It was thanks to his guilty pleasure he had actually two different kind of crackers in the house. Also, it was really not his fault that the wholemeal version came only in animal shape. At least he could prepare a nice plate with a little selection that way. With the plate in one hand and a bottle of water in the other he entered the bed room, half expecting and half worried that Natasha would already be asleep. It would be better if she had something more to eat before.

Natasha let him go off to the kitchen alone. She knew he needed to feel useful right now, and if waiting on her, taking care of her, gave him that then she wouldn’t try to take it away.

By the time he joined her in the bedroom she had traded her towel for a pair of panties and one of his t-shirts and was sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, the sheet pulled up over her legs. “You could have just brought the box,” she said, smiling softly at him.

"Hey, don't disillusion me. I like to think of myself as a great cook."

Clint made a show of bowing in front of her like a waiter in a high class restaurant and sat the plate down on the bed in front of her.

"I remember that shirt", he remarked, sitting with her with a small, thoughtful smile. "Got that when we were in Croatia. Most boring drug dealer in the world. You were clawing at the walls after two days."

“Oh, well, in that case you did a wonderful job of preparing these crackers,” she replied, smiling a little wider at the act. Of course leave it to Clint to put the utmost care into something as simple as this. Two kinds of crackers, of course. Picking one up and nibbling at it, she looked down at the shirt she wore.

“That one?” she stated, shaking her head. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a quiet mission, but that one was definitely too quiet.”

Holding the other half of the cracker out to Clint, she gave him a look that pleaded ‘please? for me?’.

That look on her face just couldn't be resisted. Grinning, he lowered his head and snatched the cracker from her fingers, not pulling a muscle though food still tasted like nothing with a hint of nausea right now.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't mind quiet missions if we were sent to places like here", he added, grinning.

It was nice, pretending for a few minutes that everything was fine, that this place was still perfect for them and that they would just go back to their old lives once they would fly home. Like nothing had happened at all. Reality would kick in soon enough tomorrow. At least for a little while he didn't want to think about it.

"Rich and lazy by day, a little hunting by night..."

He laid back on the mattress with his arms crossed under his head, casually getting out of reach of that plate.

"Got a feeling, accounting department wouldn't be happy with us, though."

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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