Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

[study_in_scarlet]

They didn’t get a lot of time off together, at least not enough to make a trip away worthwhile, so for this one weekend they decided to stay in the city and play tourist for the day.

They had started with a walk through Central Park before grabbing an early lunch at one of the city’s many street vendors and then wandering through the American Museum of Natural history. Natasha found the Hall of Minerals fascinating while Clint had gotten a kick out of all the dinosaur bones. They both enjoyed laying under the big blue whale with all the normal people.

Afterwards they went to a nice restaurant for supper, blending into the crowd of normal couples as best they could and Natasha actually forgot if she was playing a role or being herself as they finished their wine and shared their desserts.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely as they left the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. Nearby a busker played guitar and sang with surprising melody and soul, barely seeming to notice as people threw change into his open case, so caught up was he in his music.


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[study_in_scarlet]

When the door slammed shut she gripped the edge of the bathroom counter with white knuckle ferocity and tried to catch her breath. She hadn’t meant to lose it, the whole point of this trip was to get Clint to open up and try to help him heal, but here he was trying to be honest with her and she had bit his head off.

She just didn’t know how to deal with it. It hurt; hearing him say those words hurt. She knew he hadn’t been referring to her, hadn’t been thinking of her at all at the time, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He had changed her life, saved her life, and ever since she had been on a road of retribution. She put her blood, sweat and tears into atoning for her past, for all the awful things she had done, and he made that journey sound foolish, that maybe she would have been better off dead than trying to make up for what she had done. If he thought his life worth so little, what did that say about her? If not for him she wouldn’t even be here; she would have grown tired, she would have slipped up, and someone would have finished her.

Looking up at the mirror, only a blurry image stared back at her, and it was then that she realised she was crying. Pushing away from counter she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower, mixing the water so it was near scalding, her skin turning red almost instantly.

She felt ill, the heavy meal from earlier sitting like a hard lump in her stomach; she felt exhausted despite the nap earlier; she felt emotionally drained, yet the tears kept coming. He would have killed himself; given the opportunity to do it all over again he would have taken his life stupidly thinking that that would have somehow done something to save a lot of people. If it hadn’t been him it would have been someone else and people still would have died, maybe more people because Clint wouldn’t have been there to help them in the end. He would have killed himself, and she never would have had the chance to get him back, to fight for him. Just like that he would have been gone. “You selfish bastard,” she sobbed into the hot, heavy spray of the shower.

She wanted to help him come to terms with everything, to try to atone for it all, but he would rather just turn back the clock and have someone else take his place. How could she help that? Why should she bother? Yes, he had done some awful things under Loki’s control, but in the end that was the real truth of it, wasn’t it? He hadn’t made the choices, he had been powerless to stop his actions, he had been completely under the control of someone else. In Natasha’s case it hadn’t been like that. She’d had her brain tampered with, she had been manipulated, but in the end every life she had taken she had done so of her own accord. She could have ran; hell, she could have told them she would rather die, but she hadn’t, she had done as she was told, and after she had stopped taking orders, when she had been running her own show it had been worse. She killed for money, killed without question, and all entirely by her own choice.

She knew it wasn’t the same thing, and that she should be more understanding of Clint. He wasn’t like her, he didn’t know what it was like to cause the deaths of so many innocent people before that, and the wounds were still fresh, but it still hurt more than she could possibly say.

If he thought so poorly of himself, what would he really think of her if he wasn’t so blinded by love? Did he think others should hate her, mistrust her, and condemn her for her actions like he seemed to believe was only right for him?

Closing her eyes against the stinging tears and the scalding water, Natasha doubled over, one hand grabbing blindly for the shower wall and the other clutching her stomach as its contents finally refused to stay down.

[farmboyhawk]

Clint still had no fucking idea what to do, how to even approach Natasha after this unexpected crisis when he heard the shower going. After first figuring, she just needed a moment on her own herself, he was on his feet so fast that the chair knocked over when he heard some much more alarming noise from the room. He didn't even bother closing the door when he rushed back in.

Literally in the last moment before he could just open the door to check on her, he held himself back with all but force... This wasn't like one of the breakdowns he had been through with her before.

This time he was the fucking reason. And if she didn't want to see him now, he was the only one to blame.

"Nat?" His voice sounded just as lost and helpless as he felt. "Can I... Do you need anything? Can I come in?"

It was a plead, with just as much desperation as the hate he felt for himself even more now shining through, for making her feel like that, for upsetting her so much. He had no idea how to make up for that, if he could make up at all, but there was no way, he wouldn't try. Just a few minutes he had given himself that as one of his few positive traits, after all. He never gave up something before it was over. And certainly not on the woman he loved.

"Please, Nat, I... I'm sorry. I'm not fucking going anywhere, I told you that, remember? Give me a chance to talk this through, please."

[study_in_scarlet]

By the time she was done and there was nothing left to bring up Clint was already outside trying to talk. Sinking to the floor of the shower she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting the water continue to rain down over her. She wanted to tell him to go away, that she just wanted to be alone, but she couldn’t make herself for the words. He hadn't run away, and that in itself had to count for something. The worry and desperation in his voice hit straight for her heart, and there was another part of her that wanted to hold him, wanted to be held.

Natasha was never someone to play silly games, not when it was important. The silent treatment was ridiculous, and pushing him away wouldn’t solve anything. As hurt as she was she knew they had to talk, and putting it off would only make her shut down, make her store away all the hurtful feelings. They had to deal with this head on, and they had to deal with it now.

“Come in,” she said, her voice choked. Her hair was already wet so she reached for the shampoo more to give her hands something to do than anything else. She didn’t try to stand, though; her legs still felt too shaky for that, and the last thing she needed right now was to appear even weaker than she probably already did.

[farmboyhawk]

Seeing her like this, in a mess, with her eyes red from crying, cowering on the floor, always broke Clint's heart, but in a way it had never been as bad as today. For a moment he felt like turning around and running after all, simply because he didn't even know how to stand himself right now, leave alone be there for her. But he didn't show it and he didn't run. He had never run when Natasha needed him. As long as she was not telling him to go, he wouldn't.

But his hands were shaking badly when he went down on his knees next to tub and just stayed there, helplessly, with his arms crossed on the edge and his eyes not only burning from the too hot steam filling the room. Her skin was reddened, too red, and he took a second to regulate the temperature a notch down, before he just stared at her, with one hand tightly clutched into his hair.

That she was really crying, still was, was so much worse than when she had yelled at him.

The throwing up part was over, but she was pale, much too pale, and all he wanted right now was pull her in his arms, wrap her in a blanket and hold her until things would be alright again. Only this time it wouldn't be that easy.

"I hate this." Starting by how much his voice trembled. This was all too fucking fucked up. "I hate what this made of me and that I hurt you. I wish I could just go back to normal and wipe it all out. I wish I could deal with this like you do. I thought I could. You know, the first few weeks... after were actually pretty good."

And suddenly he was telling her the one occasion he had never told anyone, the one thing he had kept to himself, something he hadn't wanted to burden her with. Maybe he should have. Maybe things hadn't gone downhill so fast. At least... maybe she would have understood. Now all he could do was try to explain why he felt the way he did about himself.

"The whitecoats had all these nice words and explanations and the Council didn't order to execute me and all. Thought I was doing pretty well. We were nearly finished dismantling the Helicarrier, just a few people left, and in Washington there was a nice little timeout waiting for me, for training, recovering and all. Soon it would be the two of us in the field again, against the rest of the world. I was doing good. Then I came from a late construction shift and just wanted to crash. I didn't even look up when these two guys joined me in the elevator. Knew them, we were on four tours together shortly before New Mexico. That was before I killed one of these guy's brother during New York. Stood right by the turbine when it blew up."

His voice had gone flat, completely emotionless, so not at all what he had expected if he was ever to tell this to anyone. Maybe he had spent enough months thinking, screaming, punching and crying about all this to be drained of all emotional energy.

"I went out of that elevator with two broken ribs, a new fracture in my nose, three cuts that I could hardly stitch myself and I've been pissing blood for two weeks. But that didn't hurt that much, you know. It was the pain in this one man's eyes that broke me. S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me a home when I had nothing, and I let all these people down. And whenever I think I'm over it, when you tell me how you feel about me, when they write down another evaluation telling me how good I'm doing... Then I see this guy's face on my mind and I'm right back to the start. I feel like I'm not making any progress at all. I'm... not like you. I'm not strong, Nat."

[study_in_scarlet]

It took all of Natasha’s willpower to face Clint when he walked into the room. It would have been easier to shut the curtain or put her back to him, but if they were going to be honest and they were going to get through this then she had to let him see her, completely and uninhibited.

She tried to work the shampoo in her hair but even holding her arms up felt too tiring, and her hair was far too tangled; it was going to take lots of conditioner to get it manageable again. Hugging her legs again instead, she just watched Clint as he settled in front of her, though not before taking a moment to adjust the water to a more reasonable temperature. It was the little things like that that made her willing to do whatever it took to make this relationship work.

He started speaking, and while she wanted to interrupt when he admitted to wanting to take it all back, she stayed silent. He had the floor, it was his turn to talk, and she would wait until he was finished to have her turn. It was how it worked, it was how they made it through things, though she couldn’t remember a time when it was this bad, at least not between them. Usually it was other people or other things that hurt them, not each other.

The story caught her by surprise; how had she not known? She had been away on a mission without him, and when she had returned he had been mostly healed up. She had teased him about getting beaten up by some new recruits in a training session and he hadn’t corrected her.

She felt her stomach twist again.

For a long moment after he had finished she stayed silent. These were people they knew, people they worked with, people they trusted to have their backs. This wasn’t the same as her situation at all. “It’s easy to be strong when you’re not faced with the reminders every day,” she offered, her voice barely a whisper. Her throat felt raw and her head ached from the crying and the vomiting, but it was her turn, so she had to say something. “I can still see their faces, the ones I killed, but I didn’t know them and I’ll never see them again. I even put an ocean between me and where it happened.”

She hugged her knees tighter.

“I didn’t know. There’s a lot I understand about what you’re going through, but there’s more I never could.” It pained her to admit it, that maybe she couldn’t help him as much as she thought she could. “I keep saying that I know how hard it is for you to be there with all those people, and that they don’t blame you because it wasn’t you, but I... I didn’t know.”

[farmboyhawk]

"How could you? I did everything to not let anyone know."

Clint had thought, that look on her face a few moments ago had been bad, but this was even worse. This helplessness, the guilt. Natasha never looked like that. Sure, there were flashbacks, bad nights, but he had always admired the ways she dealt with her past. She always seemed so confident, so steady in everything. Seeing her look like that was horrible, and suddenly he thought to understand a little better, what it was like for her being with that wreck he had become.

She also seemed pretty exhausted from her crying if she couldn't even finish getting her hair done, which made him feel even more like punching the next wall for his stupidity, but this wasn't about him. He had to be there for her now.

"Let me help you please, Nat", he asked quietly, already reaching for the shampoo bottle and carefully urging her to stretch her legs so she could hang her head forward. It wasn't the best solution, but he didn't want to force his touch on her in any way now, not before they had cleared this mess up. And at least with doing this for her, he didn't have a problem. He had often enough in the past, when she had been too tired or injured.

He just had never been the reason for such a condition. For a moment, the self loathe wanted to come back, blinding him, causing his hands to tremble again, but he swallowed it down. Hadn't he just found out that didn't get him anywhere? He should rather correct his mistakes and could just hope, Natasha would give him the chance to.

"Just close your eyes for a little... and listen to me to the end please."

He reached for the shower head to get her hair wet again, gently, carefully to not pull on the tangled curls, spreading it down over her head with the other hand.

"If you want to leave then, I'll understand. I just... I need to try understand all this myself. It's not like I often think about it, you know. These are not exactly the things I tell the whitecoats to get through my evaluations."

He thought about where to start shortly while he spread a good amount of shampoo on the mess that was Natasha's hair. There wasn't much more to tell about that incident back then. Except for maybe the one thing she had just noted, that he had hurt her with- again. Today was a new record, definitely.

"I thought about telling you, at least, but I think you would have confronted these guys one way or another, and... I didn't want that. I didn't want them to be in trouble for something that I'd probably would have done myself, would it have been me in their place. Just the thought of losing someone so close... Like you for example... I'd be just as pissed with whoever was responsible. I'd have asked the same questions. Why didn't you fight harder? Why couldn't you stop him? Why did you let that guy control you?"

He stopped for a moment to take another shaky breath. They were nearing dangerous territory again, but he didn't stop. He had to be honest with her. Their relationship couldn't be based on lies. She had had enough of that in her life.

"And yes... That question keeps me awake many nights. If I could have saved all these people with my death, why didn't I? Why didn't I stop it before it started? But if I was in that situation again... I'd do just the same again. I told you, I'm not a man to give up, even if it would be better. I'm a stubborn bastard like that. And then..."

He hesitated for a second and leaned forward quickly for a kiss on Natasha's shoulder, hardly there, hardly to feel. Just an assurance how serious he was. And with the water still dripping over her skin, she hopefully wouldn't feel his tears flowing freely now.

"My mind was gone pretty quickly in these few seconds when that scepter touched me... But I remember thinking of you. I was afraid, he would come for you next. I wanted to find a way to protect you, somehow. And I... I wanted to see you again. I'm selfish like that, I guess. So I let him take me, thinking that maybe I could find a way out of this mess. But I didn't. I'm nothing the warrior you are.
All these years ago, when I saw your file and later when we fought, I already knew that on the right side, you would be capable of unbelievable things. You were like one of these heroes in the books I loved so much as a kid. With a dark past, sure, but that just made you stronger because you came out on top. It made me think, maybe I could be like that too. Be better than I am.
But I was always mediocre at best. I was always expendable. So I come back to the same question, if the world wouldn't be better off without me. And still couldn't do shit about it, even if the answer was yes. I never go down without a fight. And I don't..."

At this point he had to stop again because his voice became too rough, clear his throat, take a few seconds to start rinsing the foam out of her hair after he had softly worked the shampoo in, massaged her scalp the way she liked it so much for several minutes without even realizing.

"I don't want to lose you", he finally added when the shampoo was out and she would hear him again with the water not all around her head anymore. "I don't want to give up what I have with you, and I don't want to leave you.
Do you have this conditioner stuff here somewhere?"

Probably he should ask more something along the lines, if she wanted him to leave now, but he couldn't bring himself to. He wasn't sure, he wanted to hear the answer.

[study_in_scarlet]

When he offered to help her she didn’t refuse; it would be a whole lot better than sitting there, staring at each other. Well, maybe not better, but it would make it easier to talk. Maneuvering a bit so she was at a better angle, she hung her head and sucked in a deep breath at the familiar touch. It was so tempting to lose herself in just that and tell him that it didn’t matter, but if they didn’t talk about this now it would only fester, and they would both be left wondering. Eventually it would all come to a head again, and it would only be worse next time.

She did as asked, and once again stayed silent while he talked, though she was quick to stopping him from the get go when he even thought to suggest that she could leave. No matter what she would not walk out on him.

She listened as he made his excuse, and she had to admit it was a good one. She would have wanted to defend him, to do something in retribution. What Clint didn’t get, though, was that if they were swapping situations, if he was the agent who had lost a loved one... if she were to be anyone else in this situation, then she would be Clint. Why didn’t she stop those that controlled her? Why did she do what they told her? She had killed men, women, children; she had killed husbands and brothers. She wasn’t sure Clint would ever understand that.

Still, it was a bit relief when he said he wouldn’t have given up, even if he’d had it to do all over again, though she knew there was much more to it. She steeled herself to listen, though the kiss took her by surprise and she unconsciously flinched.

He kept talking.

Just hearing the raw emotion in his voice made her heart ache, but to hear him speak so poorly of himself made her want to hit him. This was not the cocky archer her had bested her all those years ago, but she hadn’t realised just how hard he had fallen.

The silence while he rinsed her hair gave her time to think, and when he was finished she wiped one eye with the back of her hand and peered out through the sopping curtain of red hair to located the conditioner bottle. Handing it to him wordlessly, it took her another minute before she responded.

“For someone who is so confident in his abilities on the range and in the field, you have a real poor sense of self worth,” she finally said. “You are not mediocre, you are not expendable, and the world would not be better without you, and I’m tempted to kick your ass for even saying such a thing.”

Her voice was still raw, but it was a little stronger now than before. It was her turn to talk, and he better damn well listen. “If it hadn’t been you that day then it would have been someone else. They would have had different skills, the plan would have been different, but Loki still would have gotten shit done and people still would have died. Maybe your replacement wouldn’t have been as effective, but it all would have still happened, one way or another, only in the end you wouldn’t have been there to help us take him down, and even more people would have died.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath and clenched her jaw. She couldn’t give in now, she had to get it all out. It was time for a little tough love.

“I want to help you, Clint, but I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself; I can’t give you back what Loki stole, you have to do that yourself, but first you have to stop this pity party you’re throwing yourself. When you said that you should have died to prevent the death of others... is that what I should have done? You feel like people are right to hate you, that they shouldn’t trust you, shouldn’t have anything to do with you... is that how they should feel about me? You were under Loki’s control, Clint, and maybe you could have tried to fight him but he’s a fucking god and we both know it wouldn’t have made a difference. You can’t be held accountable for what you did, there was nothing you could have done to stop it, no matter how much you try to tell yourself there is, so it’s time to stop beating yourself up over something you had no say in. You know my past, you know how many people I killed, and no matter what the Red Room did to me, you know these were my conscious actions. And after I left, when I went out on my own, I chose to kill, I sold my skills to whoever paid enough.”

The anger was back now; anger at him for making her doubt herself, but more than that she was angry that he was still blaming himself, angry that Loki had torn him down so far.

“I fight every day to atone for what I did. There is no point living in regret, I can only move forward. Maybe it was easier for me because of my training, because of my life, because I took myself away from it all, but everything you did was not your doing, it was not your fault. Even if you can never accept that, you can work toward getting past it. Just look at your childhood, look at the things you lived through with your sense of humour still in tact. You are stronger than you think, Clint, you just need to stop convincing yourself you aren’t.”

[farmboyhawk]

It was her turn to talk and Clint let her. Even in the moments when he wanted to interrupt her, when the bad conscience wanted to take over and he wanted to assure her, he would never think such a thing of her.

Maybe it was better to busy himself with straightening out her hair while he listened, with probably too much of that foamy white stuff and the most carefulness he could give to not hurt her, not again. Just like he had already realized outside... How should she believe him how highly he thought of her, when he felt so much hate for himself at the same time?

By the time, her hair was tidily falling back over her shoulders in long wet waves and he turned the shower off, carefully wrapped a big towel around her shoulders so she wouldn't freeze, she had stopped talking. But her words lingered heavily on his mind. He could feel her watching him, knew that she waited for an answer and she deserved one. Maybe he needed it too, finally heading into the right direction. Into any direction, instead of lingering in this zone of illusion, resignation, hopelessness and nightmares, hoping things would just turn out to be alright as they always had.

Natasha's words, maybe harder and more cutting than she had ever talked to him, made him realize for the first time, how dangerous holding on to this childish hope really was. His life had been turned upside down, this wasn't something that would fix itself. Running from it, as it had always been his way, wouldn't help it either. And he couldn't run. Didn't want to run, not from her, from what they had.

He had told her, he had always been a fighter and that was true... But after Natasha had confessed to him this weekend and they were closer than ever... Maybe for the first time he had a real, solid and good reason for such stubbornness. Something he didn't want to lose, not only something he wanted to achieve because he wanted to be special.

But what did he do for it? Natasha kept on fighting for him, to the point of this exhaustion right now, he could hardly even watch, through tears, screaming and anger... And he went on nodding, smiling and going right back to the business of self-destruction as soon as she wasn't looking.

Had he really wondered just for a minute where this heavy crisis suddenly had come from?

"I'm really stupid with this, right?"

Only when he spoke up, he realized he had ended up with his forehead resting on his arms, leaning heavily on the edge of the tub, his thighs faintly throbbing from the long uncomfortable position. The last of water from the shower had dried, but strangely enough, his side of the greyish ceramic wall was still covered with drops that wouldn't stop running. He had a vague idea, they would probably taste of salt.

"Shit, Nat... I would never... You're the greatest person I know. You're making it better, all of it, ever since I know you..."

He started babbling again, when really he should be talking about himself. He wanted to. He tried several times, but then there came the point when his voice was just too choked to talk, and he didn't even care if she would see and hear him crying in a way he seldom - maybe never - had been able to let go in front of her.

There was just... nothing left. Where over the last year had settled all that anger, all the doubts, the disgust of what he had done and become, the hate... Suddenly there was a hole inside and he couldn't breathe right. He didn't get his hopes up that all these feelings were gone... What had been done, couldn't be undone. The guilt would always be there, it was just heavily numbed right now.

But maybe... just maybe, there was something else there too, that could help him let go of the blame at least. The only one to blame was out of his reach. Millions of light years away and even if the bastard was here, there hardly would have been a way to make him pay. On the other hand that asshole still had control over him, though, still made it to make his life a struggle everyday. Something felt seriously wrong in this picture. Unfortunately Clint had never been much of a painter, so he couldn't quite figure out how to redo it. Or even fill that sudden vacuum inside.

He couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear, that he would be magically healed. Not right now, at least. He could just repeat what she already knew and hope, it would be enough for her.

"I want to live, Nat. I want to try make up and be happy with whatever life is there for people like us. I want to be happy with you. I don't know what else to say."

[study_in_scarlet]

When the sound of the shower cut out the silence was deafening, and Natasha wrapped the towel tighter around herself. She felt even more exhausted having got it all out, but she wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or regretful. She was supposed to be supportive and understanding, but she could only do that for so long. It wasn’t her nature to coddle nor to beat around the bush; she was direct, often harsh, but sometimes that was the best way to get through to someone.

She really hoped that would be the case here.

Giving him time to think over her words, she remained entirely motionless, watching him closely the whole time. Even when he spoke she didn’t answer, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought. He had to come to terms with what she had said or it was pointless.

Of course his first instinct was to backpedal, to try to take back the insinuations of his earlier words, and still she said nothing. She knew he loved her, and she knew he didn’t think badly of her because of her past, but he couldn’t hold her on a pedestal while condemning himself for lesser actions. If he was to hold himself accountable for what he had done then he should hold her accountable too.

Finally he was too overcome for excuses, too overcome to speak at all. When he let himself go, let the tears run free, she finally moved, one hand carding softly through his hair. She hated to see him like this, hated that she had pushed him this far, but she knew he needed it. He needed to let go, he needed to stop hiding behind a happy mask and pretending everything was okay, that life would just go back to normal if he pretended hard enough. He needed to stop running, to stop beating himself up, to stop internalizing everything. Maybe now they could start moving forward.

“It’s enough for now,” she said, continuing to run her fingers soothingly through his hair. “When I said the world wouldn’t be better without you in it, I meant my world. I need you, Clint, but I need you to fight, not for me but for you. You can’t keep going like you have been. You have to face it, you have to deal with it, and you have to move on, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

[farmboyhawk]

Hearing her say, she was with him, still, should have been a relief. It was, as was her touch that Clint pressed against tiredly, feeling even too drained to lift his head right now. It was comfort but not the usual reassurance and maybe that was better. Natasha was right, she couldn't save him from this, and he shouldn't lean on her even more than he already had. She wasn't the one to go this long way through a poisoned fog, back into a life that shone such a little light at the end of the tunnel right now.

But she could be that light. That point to orientate himself on, that most precious thing he didn't want to go without. That was all he could ask of her right now and it was already a lot.

"I just wish I wouldn't have to put this on you", he finally said, with his head still buried against his arms, in a still rough but at least steady voice. "I wanted to be strong for you, to not pull you down with me. Guess I've only achieved the opposite."

Finally, after wiping his too rough, to sensitive feeling cheeks on his arms, he brought himself to look at her. It hurt, he couldn't remember ever feeling so vulnerable, so weak in front of her, but he needed her to see that he was serious, that all her words and efforts hadn't been for nothing.

"But I'm thankful you're there anyway. No running anymore, promise."

He should have promised her more, that he was better now, that everything she had said was right and had just made the needed change in him... But he never made promises he couldn't keep to Natasha. He wanted to believe her, because it all sounded so very logical and calming, but he knew his own stubborn head well enough to be sure, it would be take time for all this to really sink in. For the moment, trying was all he could give her.

[study_in_scarlet]

Although he still wouldn’t look at her she thought she could feel him growing calmer under her touch, so she kept up the soothing motions, willing to give him all the time he needed to deal with everything she had just made him face.

Eventually he spoke, his voice still raw but stronger than before, and when he finally lifted his head to look at her she felt her heart ache for him. He was completely vulnerable, completely honest and open and the pain in his eyes was hard to stomach, but she offered a weak smile back, her hand moving down to brush his cheek.

“Isn’t that one of the advantages of this whole ‘relationship’ thing? Never having to go through anything alone?” she said. “I don’t want you to be strong for me. I just want you.”

She could forgive what he had said because she knew the darkness the words had come from; she hadn’t exactly been the most pleasant person to be around when he had first brought her in, but he had never given up on her and he had helped her every step of the way. He had believed in her, and that had meant more to her than anything else. “I believe in you, Clint. And I believe in us.”

She wanted to kiss him, but until she brushed her teeth she had to settle for pressing her forehead to his and stroking his cheek.

[farmboyhawk]

Her last sentences had him shiver again, only with emotion this time, and press his dry, rough lips to her palm, just resting there when she leaned over. Her touch soothed the last of panic away for the moment, which made just room for even more exhaustion. And he'd wake up with hell of sore muscles in his thighs tomorrow.

But he didn't move, not yet. He was too busy not losing it again, for more positive reasons this time. This... was maybe the most important thing she could have told him on this difficult evening.

"That's kind of new to me, you know", he whispered, with a voice that could really use a glass of water right now. "Usually things are of expected me, people expect me to function like I always did. Or they stopped expecting anything at all from me. It's nice... to have someone believe in you."

Somehow he managed a smile, a careful, still shy touch of her shoulder. It was hard to believe, they had been arguing that badly just a few minutes ago. And then again not at all. They had been through too much to be weathered so easily. And Natasha telling him that she wanted to continue that, that she wanted to be there for him, was all the reassurance he needed right now.

"Probably should take a shower myself", he murmured, just to say anything, because everything else was said for the moment.

Getting up turned out to be hell of a job that ended with him crashing on the tub edge, rubbing cramps out of his thighs.

"Remind me to have my next nervous breakdown on a soft underground."

[study_in_scarlet]

She returned his smile, a little easier this time than the last, and this time she didn’t flinch from his touch. Clint had always tried so hard to prove himself, even before she had ever known him, but how often had anyone truly encouraged him? Not just that, but how many people had ever told him that it didn’t matter what he did that they would always care for him and believe in him?

“It is,” she agreed, because it was nice. More than nice. It was his belief in her that had made her the woman she was today. In the beginning she had thought that it was all for show, that she had to succeed for him to save face for bringing her in, but soon she realised that Clint was really that genuine, that he had really seen something in her worth saving, and he truly believed she could be better than she was, that she could do great things. That belief had made all the difference in the world, and it had made her want to not only do well, but to be the best.

When he tried to stand and stumbled instead, she reached out to catch him as best she could. “I guess I should have went to bed instead of the shower,” she said, the closest she could come to a joke after all the emotional turmoil they had just been through. When she continued, though, she was more serious. “Do you need help?” He had helped her wash her hair, and she would gladly do the same for him. “Completely innocent, just a shower.”

She was pretty sure neither of them were up for anything more right now.

bitt

[farmboyhawk]

"Let me give it a try."

While Clint didn't mind being helped by Natasha when he was really down with something, right now he needed to force this exhaustion out of his bones himself, at least enough to move right again. If he started that now... If he let himself be eaten up by what was dragging down his mind... Then the day wouldn't be far, when he wouldn't want to get up in the morning. He had no plans of getting to that point.

He got up slower this time, after he had pushed the worst of cramps out of his legs and wiggled his way out of his clothes, and rested on the sink for a moment until he could be sure, he wouldn't be falling on his silly ass again. The warm water of a quick shower helped, at least a little, and it would give Natasha a few minutes of her own to restore herself.

"Just gonna get an orange or something or my stomach will probably wake you up at midnight", he remarked with half a rueful grin when he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. "And then I'm pretty ready to crash, to be honest. Tomorrow, if you want, we can always...
Oh fuck, tell me, I'm dreaming."

Whatever he had just wanted to say, ended in an unbelieving, half amused, half horrified yelp when he opened the bathroom door and found something he definitely hadn't expected on the TV table.

All of the remaining fruit had been thoroughly licked or bitten into. A half full water glass had fallen and just dripped its lest remains into the carpet. The flowers that Angelina had left on the table had lost most of its blossoms. And in the middle of this whole mess sat a certain little black devil and meowed at him obviously completely satisfied.

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha pushed herself up to her own slightly wobbly legs and wrapped her towel securely around herself before abandoning the shower for his use. She stayed close, just in case, but backed off once it was clear he was fit to stand on his own again. While he washed she busied herself with brushing her teeth, gargling some mouthwash, and tying her hair back in a loose braid, and by the time she was finished, only a few minutes later, so was he.

Of course it was still early, and they really should have been getting something for supper, but the very thought of food at the moment made her stomach churn again so she just smiled and nodded and let him go about getting food for himself. She was glad he was ready to turn in after that, though, as she was pretty ready to drop herself, but when he stopped mid sentence, cursing instead, she felt a cold hand grip her heart for a moment. She was almost scared to look around him to see what had garnered such a reaction, but when she did a surprised laugh burst out and she had to slap a hand over her mouth.

She had the distinct feeling that the kitten was intentionally pushing him.

Trying to hide her amusement, Natasha looked from the kitten to the mess it had made and then to the door, which still stood open. “You left the door open,” she pointed out, very helpfully.

[farmboyhawk]

When Natasha was actually laughing at the whole misery, Clint turned his head to her half amused, half offended and really pretty relieved- he sure hadn't expected her to laugh so soon after all this shit.

"Admit it, this is a conspiracy. You two are trying to overthrow me here."

He pointed a finger at her with a mock glare and tried to remember then where Angelina kept the whole housekeeping stuff. He wouldn't hurt the cat of course - he loved animals far too much for that - but he really was in no mood to deal with fleas tonight, so the broom would have to do to shoo the unwanted visitor outside.

Before he could even try, though, the little devil jumped down from the table and started strolling around Natasha's legs with a smug purr.

Clint could swear, that thing was grinning at him.

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha too was surprised to find herself laughing, but it was probably partially because of all the pain and tension they had just gone through that the laughter came on so easily. She needed it, and it felt good to let some of that stress drain out. Everything wasn’t so easily fixed; there was still lingering hurt and a hard road ahead, but they were okay for now, and that was all she could hope for.

“I am not the one who left the door open like an open invitation,” she pointed out. She realised just how distraught Clint really must have been when he came back inside to have done so, and her expression soften though she said nothing further on that matter. “It’s still open, by the way. You might want to get that before we end up with more visitors.”

Crouching down, she scratched the kitten on the top of the head, switching easily to Italian when she spoke to it. “You didn’t have any friends you wanted to share with?” she said quietly. The poor thing was really rather small, probably the runt of the litter and maybe an outcast because of it. “Smart kitty, keeping it all for yourself, but you better go now.”

[farmboyhawk]

"I can hardly argue with that", Clint admitted, still grumbling mostly at himself and already on the way to the door.

Half-way he thought better though and went to his dresser to put on some comfortable dark sweatpants and the shoes that had ended up in a careless pile there earlier. And while he was already on it, he could as well get that old, ragged blanket from the last drawer, something that no one used anymore anyway. Which made him roll his eyes even more at himself.

It was official, he was doomed. Well, he could use a short walk to get his muscles back working anyway.

"Back in a minute."

He really had no idea what got into him. Except for that soft, tender tone in Natasha's voice maybe, and that little light in her eyes when she talked to their furry visitor. Whatever it was, half a minute later - now with the door closed - he found himself behind the house under the same small roof eaves where he kept his scooter from occasional rain and greedy looks from outside.

In the corner between the bike and the house, there was an empty apple box stacked that he had meant to discard for probably 2 years or something. Nothing he needed, no hurt at all in creating a little nest with that blanket and the bowl of milk he had taken along from the front door. Not much left in there, but he could take care of that tomorrow, after the market. For today a certain little someone had definitely had enough food.

No effort at all, coming back here once or twice a day to leave something to eat, just a nice gesture to make Natasha happy, and from now on the front door would stay closed firmly, and...

And also he was a big sap and an idiot. Damnit, Barton.

After rolling his eyes for a last time, he leaned over to the tilted living room window and knocked to get Natasha's attention.

"Alright, red, get him out here. I've got a place for the night for him."

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha watched Clint curiously as he stopped on his way to closing the door, deciding to get dressed instead. Maybe that wasn’t so unusual, but the fact that he needed shoes and a blanket didn’t really fit in with a man who was shooing a cat outside and staying in the rest of the night.

When he went outside and closed the door behind him, she looked down at the kitten in confusion and received only a meow in answer.

“We should probably put you outside, and maybe tomorrow I can get you cleaned up. You’re cute, but you could use a bath,” she said, scooping the kitten up in her hand. Getting to her feet, she held the kitten up in front of her face a moment, looking into it’s big, soft eyes before lifting it a little higher. “You’re not a boy cat at all, are you, little one?”

The kitten mewled and wriggled in her hands so Natasha started toward the door to let it back outside when she heard the tapping at the window. Turning towards the sound, she gave Clint a strange look before crossing the room to the window and opening it. The look lingered a moment while she processed his words. He wouldn’t let it stay in the house, nor should he unless they got it bathed and checked out first, probably, but he was actually setting up a place for it to stay, right outside where it could still be sheltered.

“Her,” Natasha said, giving the kitten a final scratch before holding it out the window for Clint to take. “It’s a her.”

[farmboyhawk]

Clint gave a surprised frown- for some reason he had expected their visitor to be male, but thinking about it, it made perfect sense. He still wasn't too happy about that sudden household addition, but some things... just happened. Kind of fitting that such a tough little fighter, surviving on the streets of an area that didn't have much patience with strays, should be a strong female just like the human it seemed to like so much.

"A little baby girl, huh?"

Taking the little one into his hand came naturally. First on the farm and later in the circus there had been enough cats around to at least know how to handle them. The hot thin body nearly fitted on his hand in whole when he pushed it under the cat's belly, with the ribs standing out painfully. Thinking about it, it was a miracle, it had pulled through that long.

Not that he wanted to think about it, so he quickly put the animal down in that prepared bed and tried to ignore, again, the warm sensation of its purring against his skin, and fought that silly little grin on his face. Now he probably had caught fleas after all.

"No screaming at night. Or you'll have sleeping pills in your milk tomorrow", he threatened their guest in Italian, but again he was pretty much ignored.

The kitten looked around in its new place a little suspiciously, confused, but then started kneading the blanket under its paws just like a grown up and finally curled into a filthy little ball. Which was absolutely not cute. Not a bit.

Clint sighed deeply and made his way back into the house, still shaking his head. Maybe he just grew old and sentimentality came with that...

[study_in_scarlet]

Clint seemed just as keen to call the kitten a ‘he’ as Natasha had been; it was sort of the default gender term when people were unsure. “Apparently,” Natasha answered. “I thought we should know so she doesn’t have to be an ‘it’ all the time.”

Handing the kitten over, Natasha couldn’t help but smile a little at how gentle Clint was with it, nor did she fail to notice that little grin he was trying so hard to hide. He was a goner; if she suggested tomorrow that they should find a vet, get the kitten all the proper shots and even give it a name, she figured he would try to argue, but he wouldn’t put much effort into it. Even his attempt at a threat was all for show.

Turning her attention to the kitten, she watched it stand there a minute, unsure whether to accept this new luxury or run, before it finally settled down. She watched a moment longer as Clint moved back to the front door before bidding a quiet ‘good night’ to their furry friend and closing the window.

When Clint reentered the house Natasha was waiting for him, and any lingering animosity she might have felt towards him from their fight earlier was completely gone. “Thank you,” she said softly, pulling him into a gentle hug. It was nothing she had asked for, but she knew he had done it for her nonetheless.

[farmboyhawk]

Clint didn't quite know what to answer, so he just held Natasha close to his chest and breathed his relief, that the dangerous tension from before was gone, into her still damp hair. Tomorrow, they could talk if they both felt like it. Calmer, after a few hours of rest and thinking, hopefully more rational, with less pain. For now it was enough to know that they could still find comfort and calmness in the arms of the other.

The evening had taken its toll, though, and he hadn't forgotten how exhausted Natasha had been just a few minutes ago. It still hurt to think of it, and it definitely was the best motivation for getting his shit together from now on, for really working on getting better instead of just talking about it.

"You could go to bed already if you want. I'll be with you in a few. Just taking care of the mess."

His lips rested on her neck for a moment before he let go off her to get some paper towels and the wastebin from the kitchen.

[study_in_scarlet]

It felt like a long time that they just held each other, and it was exactly the comfort Natasha needed right then. No matter what she felt safe and loved in Clint’s arms, and she wanted to forget everything and just stay there until all their hardships had passed. Of course this was impossible, but it was a nice thought.

She could have offered to help him when they parted, and maybe she should have, but she was still walking around in a towel and rather preferred to get dressed. Besides, it really wasn’t that much of a mess that it needed two people. “Don’t be long,” she said anyhow before heading into the bedroom.

She hadn’t really packed much in the way of sleeping clothes, at least not practical ones, figuring she wouldn’t have much need of them, but tonight seemed to be one of those nights that sleeping nude didn’t seem appropriate after everything, so she ended up in a camisole and panties. Once she was changed she thought about going out to help Clint with whatever was left, but the bed just looked too inviting, and she knew he would just tell her he was almost done anyway, so she climbed into bed instead, curling up on her side facing the edge and listened to him moving around quietly in the other room.

[farmboyhawk]

Clint joined her not only with the obligatory water bottle but also a few plain crackers on a napkin that he placed on her bedside table, in case she would get hungry in the middle of the night and her stomach maybe still needed a little rest. Standing on her bedside for a moment, he carefully reached out to push her hair back from her face and rest his fingers against her cheek tenderly.

"Thank you for your patience, Nat", he murmured, his voice thick from returning exhaustion, but at least he didn't feel as drained as in the bathroom. A few hours of rest should make them both fit soon enough.

He wasn't sure if she would be comfortable with too much closeness right now, so he settled on his back when he laid down beside her and just stared at her slender, curled up form from behind for a while. With her hair still a little untidy, she looked not unlike their little visitor, he found with the smallest of smiles.

Only without fleas, and that thought at least made him chuckle.

[study_in_scarlet]

Natasha smiled softly at his touch, and even wider when she opened his eyes to find the food he had thoughtfully placed on the table in case she wanted it later. It was the gestures like this, the little things that nobody else saw, that made her want to do serious bodily harm to anyone who spoke poorly of him, including himself. He was the most thoughtful, caring person she knew, especially when it came to her, and try as she might have in the beginning it had been impossible not to fall in love with him.

She didn’t answer his words, no answer was needed; she just listened to him move, feeling the mattress sink behind her when he laid down. He was respectful of her space and her needs, not even trying to touch her, but when he chuckled she was left confused. It sounded like a genuine one, not the wry nor bitter ones she had heard so often lately.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, scooting backwards on the bed and reaching behind her blindly for his arm.