study_in_scarlet | Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)

Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)

The first few nights were the worst; that initial moment of panic when she awoke alone before remembering where she was and that Clint was thousands of miles away, the emptiness she felt not just in the bed but in her heart when he wasn’t near. Eventually that faded but with each passing day Natasha grew more worried about how he was holding up. How was he coping with the nightmares without her to sooth them away? Was he working himself too hard as a distraction?

More than any of that, though, was that unshakeable expectation that her phone would one day ring and she would be called back with those three words that made her blood run cold and still haunted her dreams.

Barton’s been compromised.

She couldn’t shake the fear, but worse than that was the realisation that the phone call never would come, even if something did happen to him. With Coulson gone, who else would know to call her? Who else knew how important Clint was to her? Sure, many people had their suspicions, but none of them knew for certain because she had never allowed it. She had been so insistent that they keep their relationship secret, and with each passing day it became harder and harder to remember why. Over the years he had become a very important part of her life, the best thing in her life, so why was it so hard to give herself over so completely? What was she so afraid of?

His last words to her ran through her mind constantly, the clear desperation in his voice making it clear that it was something he had been holding back for a long time. He loved her, and he didn’t say it expecting to hear it back, nor did he say it in some last ditch effort to get her to stay, or to stall her for a few more minutes. He said it because he felt it, because he meant it, and because he needed her to know how he felt. There was no manipulation behind the words, only truth.

And she had said nothing in return.

She could argue all she wanted with herself that there hadn’t been time, that the doors had closed and cut off any reply, but ultimately it was a lie. She could have stopped the lift, she could have gone back up or even called him. She could have been a few minutes late getting to the base, but she had just walked away like she always did. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop regretting it.

“...if something did happen and I didn’t say it I’d never forgive myself.” Those were the words that haunted her the most. She knew how he felt, now without question, but she kept her own feelings so guarded, kept them even from herself, that there was no way he could know. What if something happened to him while she was gone? Or to her? She had a lot of time to analyze her own feelings during this mission, but what if she never got to tell him? What if he never knew?

All these thoughts plagued her every waking hour so Natasha threw herself into the mission more than ever. She took more risks, pushed harder than normal. It was dangerous and she very well could have blown the entire mission, but it seemed that luck was on her side. The job was expected to take at least four months.

She finished in three and a half.

Every second felt like a full minute as she sat through her debriefing. Director Fury praised her speed even as he showed disapproval for her recklessness, but in the end it was a mission accomplished and a job well done.

Walking out of his office, Natasha made a beeline for the weapons range. She had asked Agent Hill about Barton’s status, her heart pounding in her chest, and had been beyond relieved to hear that he was currently on base, safe and sound. She could have called him the second the mission was over, but having finished so early she had hoped to surprise him. Of course it also played a factor that if she had called him and received no answer she wouldn’t have known how to handle that.

Stopping just outside the archery range, she took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be expecting her, and while she hadn’t done anything so drastic as shave her head or go blonde, she did look a little different. She hadn’t cut her hair since before their last conversation, and while it hadn’t grown that much in their time apart she had taken the time to straighten out the curls which gave the illusion of extra length. He would probably look just the same, she hoped he would, and after a moment’s pause she pushed the door open and walked in.

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Even though he was clearly okay now, Natasha still frowned when he described how his time without her had started. Of course she had pictured a similar situation while she had been gone, though she had also pictured much worse situations, but that didn’t mean the confirmation didn’t bother her. She would have squeezed his hand if she hadn’t been holding the pizza. “I’m assuming I have Hill to thank for that.” Maria was more perceptive than people gave her credit for.

Thankfully he didn’t dwell on it, and when they stepped out onto her floor he wasted no time in showing her the little gifts he’d stashed around.

Many people might have freaked out about the toothbrush thing, the first sign of moving in, but logically it only made sense. They spent so much time in each other’s rooms it was silly not to have one there, so she accepted it without question.

The keychain was something else, and she smiled at the story. It was adorable, he was adorable; that wasn’t a word Natasha normally threw around, but nothing else seemed appropriate enough right now. He was also a complete dork, but that was part of his charm. So different from any other man she had ever been with or who had ever made a move on her.

“It’s not stupid,” she said, setting the pizza box down on her bureau and taking the tiny hawk from his hands. “Well, I don’t have to meet with Fury...”

"Yeah, I went on a rampage and begged her to give me something to do." He grinned, awkwardly standing around. Sure the toothbrush thing should have had alarm bells ringing in any logical persons head but his reasoning was exactly what she was thinking. He spent far more time holed up on her floor rather than his own so it made perfect sense.

The stuffed hawk on the other hand... That was totally a whim. He'd have laughed at her if she'd have vocalized the word, adorable. Clint was a lot of things, he never classed himself as adorable. More like the saviour of all stuffed hawks in exsistance.

"It is kinda stupid. I saw him and his friends and thought they should be saved. So I kinda brought them all... and now I have enough for a complete brood." She'd laugh if she saw the odd places he'd hidden them on afternoon in between nursing a split lip from an over enthusiastic trainee and filling in an accident report.

"You should meet with Fury though, and keep the lil' guy, he's not got a name so you might wanna get on that." Really Clint had named them all Clint Junior and then a numerical figure on the end, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

He moved to perch himself on the edge of her bed, toeing off his shoes and wiggling socked feet against the carpet.

Natasha wasn’t sure if Clint was exaggerating or not, but seeing the physical shape he was in and knowing he hadn’t been allowed on any missions, it was highly possible he lost it and resorted to begging. She decided it was best not to ask.

Looking down at the hawk in her hands, she raised her eyebrows when she looked back up at him, her lips curving up into a wide smile. “All of them? How many of these did you buy, and what did you do with the others?” She had a mental image of every surface of his bedroom covered with perching stuffed hawks and couldn’t help but laugh. Moving over to set hers on the bedside table, she started routing through her bureau for a change of clothes.

“I’m supposed to name him?” she questions, settling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that she may or may not have stolen from Clint and holding the bundle to her chest. She’d never had any stuffed animals as a child and wasn’t aware that naming them was the norm. “And of course I’m keeping my appointment,” she made sure to make clear in case he hadn’t caught that she had been joking about skipping it.

He was grateful she didn't ask, it hadn't exactly been a moment of pride in his life. But for someone who was scared of losing their own mind again it was an easy way out. Beg until someone gave you something, anything. Hell he'd have been ready to go through stacks of papers and rearrange the order. Anything to keep himself busy.

He smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "Ten, there were only ten left and they looked lonely..." He trailed off, watching her go about her room for a moment. "I just have them sitting around, there's one perched on top of the shower, y'know.." Awkward, yeah way to make him feel stupid by explaining where they all sat Natasha. "Couple on the book shelf, on the television... just anywhere.."

He noted the clothes, they'd been his in days gone by but after Steve screwed up the washer in the first few weeks of communal living he hadn't been able to fit into the shirt. "Yeah you have to give him a name, it's only right.."

He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, nodding at her last statement. There was nothing to say to that except to give her a small smile that touched his eyes.

“Ten?” she repeated with a laugh. She could see buying both if there were only two left, but ten? Ten was not a lonely number. The separation really must have been hard on him. When he went on to explain where he’d stashed the rest she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing more. It was almost as good as the mental image she’d had before she knew. “On the shower?” she could barely hold it back, it was just too precious.

Moving over to where he sat, she reached a hand out to ruffle his hair before leaning down to place a quick kiss on his forehead. “I’ll have to think about it, then,” she said before heading for the bathroom for a quick ‘freshening up’. “Why can’t I just call him my hawk?”

She stopped just inside the washroom and dropped the clothes on the floor. Taking a towel off the shelf she tossed it out to Clint to put under the pizza so that if it was greasy enough to soak through the box it wouldn’t get on the sheets. She’d have to take a look for some cups since they hadn’t actually been thinking about stopping in the kitchen for drinks. Water would have to do, though she probably had some vodka stashed somewhere as well.

"Hey he only had ten left, he couldn't sell them, they were covered in dust.." Okay so he made that last point up but honestly, how could he leave them knowing that no one wanted them?

Okay she was laughing at him, Clint guessed that was better then her calling him crazy and pitying him. "Yeah on the shower, he was blue.." It was fitting okay! No, Clint needed to stop.

He smirked as her fingers moved through his hair and barely closed his eyes at the fleeting kiss. He needed more but he'd have to learn to be more patient although her words stopped him and he stared at her for a minute. He wanted to ask if she was replacing him with the stuffed keychain. "You can call him that, it's a fitting name." No, he went with the cowards answer like always.

He caught the towel in his hand, moved to shimmey out his jeans because wearing denim in bed should never happen. Instead he turned to spread the towel over the top of the sheets and turned to rifle through her bottom drawer in the chest, retriving a screwed up pair of flannel pants, some he remembered leaving in her room months ago and tugging them on.

"Hurry up, the pizza's getting cold." He wasn't above whining and apparently neither was his stomach as he grasped the pizza box and carefully positioned it on top of the towel.

“Oh, well in that case it is perfectly understandable. Poor things needed saving,” she said, putting on her best false sincere look. Endearing was really one of the best words Natasha had to describe a lot of the silly things Clint did, but it really seemed to fit him.

“It’s not really a name, though,” she said. It had been meant as an absence of a name. “If I had had a teddy bear as a child, would I have had to give it a name? Something like Bucky?” It seemed a bit odd to her to name something that wasn’t living, but if Clint insisted she would humour him.

Using the toilet and washing her face and hands in the sink, Natasha took a moment to look at her reflection much like she had the day she left, only this time she smiled rather than frowned. She was nervous, scared and oh so tempted to just forget everything she had decided and go right back to how things had been before, but there was also a part of her that was excited to move forward, to take this leap and see where it led them.

“Alright, alright,” she called back, quickly changing her clothes and exiting the bathroom. Stopping at her wardrobe she triumphantly extracted a bottle of vodka, three quarters full, before settling herself on the bed beside him. “There are probably glasses in another cupboard,” she offered before removing the cap and just taking a swig straight from the bottle. Holding it out to him she flipped open the pizza box and reached for a slice.

"Yeah, If you'd have had a bear when you were younger I'm sure you'd have gave him a name. That's what people do, name things." Clint vaguely remembered a scruffy looking bear from his childhood. He couldn't exactly remember what he'd called it, or even where it was now, so they were somewhat in the same boat.

He waited for her to finish even if he was jiggling the pizza box on his knees at a rapid pace. When she'd finally returned he grinned at her, eyebrows both raising at the vodka bottle. "Who needs glasses?" She certainly didn't as he watched her take a swig before it was pushed into his hands.

Her idea of Vodka was like drinking paint stripper. Really, but whatever, he'd take whatever he could get. Taking a mouthful and trying not to cringe at the burn in the back of his mouth and throat, aiming to dull it with the taste of pizza which is why he set the vodka bottle on the night stand and reached for a slice.

"So tell me, if this leading up to the best homecoming ever? Pizza, clean sheets, a mini hawk and vodka?"

Natasha could certainly play the classy lady when she wanted to, or needed to as was more often the case, and nobody would have even an inkling that she wasn’t that way all of the time. That wasn’t really her, though; she was much more at home eating greasy pizza rather than caviar and slugging vodka straight out of the bottle over champagne from a crystal flute.

She watched Clint as he took a drink, a smile teasing the corner of her lips. She could tell he was trying so hard not to pull a face and he actually accomplished it pretty admirably. She knew vodka wasn’t his favourite, especially the stuff she bought, but he never complained.

“I can’t quite think of any better at the moment,” she replied. It certainly beat her last homecoming, not that she really considered it that. She had been pulled out of her mission and sent straight to India before returning to New York, and considering the circumstances behind it all she preferred not to think about it too much. Chewing her pizza thoughtfully, she suddenly gave him mock suspicious look. “Wait... leading up to? Have you got something else up your sleeve, Barton?”

Clint had seen her play classy. He’d been the one to zip up her dress, watch her paint her lips, and watch through the windows while she romanced people and sipped expensive wines and champagnes and seduced every single person in the room. She was spectacular, though he preferred to see her like this. Not afraid to get pizza grease or tomato sauce all around her mouth, swigging from the bottle. Here she was his Natasha, not some false alias.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having such a great time.” He grinned, devouring the slice of pizza in a heartbeat while his foot nudged hers softly. “I meant, the day is still young, there’s still a lot of time left..” He shrugged. No he had no other serious plans except to press into her and try to steal some of the air out of her lungs.

“What else would you like to do today? This is your ‘welcome home’ party afterall..”

That was true, it was still early, probably far too early in the day to be drinking already but Natasha wasn’t one to care about things like that. Besides, she could always claim jetlag or something.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think we’re doing pretty well just playing it by ear,” she said. Finishing her slice of pizza, she wiped her hands on the towel before moving a little closer, her chest pressing against his arm, one arm moving behind his back... where she proceeded to snatch the bottle of vodka back from where he’d put it on the beside table. Pulling away, she grinned at Clint before taking a swig. “Like you said, it’s early yet.”

Not that she didn’t want to just tear his clothes off and have her way with him then and there, but there was still a lot hanging over her heard, a lot of words that needed to be said, and this time she wasn’t going to lie to him or make him wait. Maybe he had decided that he never should have told her how he felt, and maybe he was glad she seemed to have forgotten about it, or was at least pretending it had never happened... or maybe it was on his mind as much as it was hers but he thought she didn’t want to talk about it. She knew Clint, and while she hadn’t seen his face when he’d said it she had heard the sincerity in his voice. She would bet any money on the latter.

Lowering the bottle, Natasha turned her eyes to the pizza as if contemplating her next piece. “Best homecoming ever,” she said, rolling the bottle between her hands. “The send off wasn’t too bad either...”

Clint wasn’t going to complain about how early she’d cracked out the vodka, he had nothing to complain about. She was here, she didn’t seem to be avidly trying to avoid him, they had vodka, pizza and yeah, Clint was pretty happy with himself.

“Yeah, who needs a plan huh?” He grinned, licking his fingers clean of excess tomato sauce, about to lean for another slice when she pressed herself against him and he watched her carefully out the corner of his eyes. The vodka, she was after the bottle, yeah, okay. “Yeah early… I know you can drink like a fish, but go easy, after all, it is early.” He grinned, snatching up another slice of pizza.

He had thought she’d forgot who was trying to block it out. But that wasn’t in the forefront of his mind right now, he was just genuinely glad to have her back by his side. It had all been sincere, there had been no ulterior motives to him declaring his love for her, it had been too late for her to call it off and what had he expected? For her to stop the elevator and come back after she’d brushed off their conversation about normalcy? No, it had torn him up but he got her reservations.

He almost choked on the bite he’d taken as he looked back to her and managed to drop the toppings onto the towel, scolding himself internally as he picked up the mess and scraped it off his fingers back into the box, now staring at a slice of dough covered in sauce. “Oh? Well I’m glad my performance was up to scratch..” Yes he was talking about the sex, because honestly he wasn’t sure where she was going and since he was so great at putting his foot in things he decided to go for the only thing other than his declaration he could think of. Yeah.

“I think the homecoming will be better though…”

“I could drink this entire thing and still barely feel it,” she bragged, but even so she put the cap on the bottle and just set it on the bed within easy reach of both of them. Of course she had taken one last sip before doing so, but still.

She had hoped to ease into the conversation; start with a very obvious hint and see where he took it. She hadn’t expected him to almost choke in reply. Placing a hand on his back and rubbing it gently, she waited until he recovered, but apparently he hadn’t quite gotten where she had been going, or was at least pretending he hadn’t.

This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

“Up to scratch? Don’t tell me you learned modesty while I was gone,” Natasha teased him. She could just jump right in with both feet like he had done before she left, but this entire idea was terrifying enough as it was, and she didn’t have an excuse to run off if it all went south.

“You might be right,” she said, though her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to work out her next step. Unsure what to say, she grabbed another slice of pizza and took a bite. She hoped he was right. When it came to the send off the sex part had definitely been amazing, but there had also been the emotional roller coaster they had both been riding on. The tension in the kitchen, the fight when she had told him she was leaving, the absolute desperate want to stay together... the homecoming had to be better unless she just absolutely messed up everything she wanted to say.

"I know you can..." He smirked, nudging her softly. Yes she could drink him under the table, then again that's what you get trying to drink with a Russian. Clint was sure they had vodka flowing through their veins anyway.

No her hand hadn't helped, just left a trail of heat where she'd rubbed and jesus no, this wasn't going to work because he already wanted to pull her into his lap and show her how much he'd missed her. Play dumb, it was easier.

"I've learnt a lot since you were gone.." He picked at his naked slice and sighed, dumping it into the box. His stomach was hurting and it had nothing to do with the pizza or how hungry he was. He grabbed for the discarded vodka bottle and drank back a good measure, and yes he did wince after that one.

He was ignoring that emotional rollercoaster. The fight wasn't worth talking about because it was about times gone by, all of it was. That awkward air was settling again and Clint wasn't sure what to say to make it better. He wasn't sure if he could make it better by saying something, so he reached for another slice of pizza, carefully making sure he didn't lose the toppings from this one, unless she was about to throw another curveball at his face.

He switched between the slice and the bottle balanced between his legs, finally screwing the cap back on after his throat was burning and his head a little on the fuzzy side. Not enough food to be downing straight gulps of vodka like a fish.

"I know what you meant.." He said softly, finally. "And.. I don't expect anything back so it's cool.."

She knew he was just throwing back a light comment to match hers, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was true, and if he had learned a lot, what exactly had he learned? It became instantly clear, though, when he grabbed the vodka that putting off this talk wasn’t going to work. She watched him down a good amount and she watched him wince, but she couldn’t seem to tease him about it like she would have even just a few minutes ago.

She had set them on this path and now there was no turning back.

They ate in silence with Clint adding a lot of drinking into the equation as well and Natasha not even trying to steal the bottle back. The silence was heavy and awkward again and god she hated it but she didn’t know how to start. She had never been good with the whole ‘feelings’ thing, so she was beyond grateful when Clint finally broke the silence, broached the topic and gave her her opening.

“I know you don’t,” she said; it was simultaneously one of his best and worst qualities, how he was willing to give her whatever she thought she needed even if it tore him apart in the process. “but it’s not ‘cool’. You deserve better.”

Tossing her half eaten crust back into the box, she turned on the bed to face him. “I need to say something, and I need you to just listen, okay?

His gaze shifted at her words, catching her eyes and holding them. Yeah he probably did deserve better but he didn't want that, he wanted her, whether she loved him back or not, well, he'd get over that. It would take time but he'd move past it.

He wanted to say that, opened his mouth to attempt to but she was still talking and facing him and dear god they were going to have this talk. She was going to tell him he was a fool, that she didn't want that, that she didn't appreciate it. His head made up a hundred and one negative reactions and it made him not want to listen.

Yet he swallowed back the lump in his throat and chewed on the last bit of his pizza and nodded. "Okay, I'm listening."

This was it. She was going to let him down gently and he was going to sit there and not say a word.

She had his full attention now and it was completely terrifying. She had had months to think about what she would say when she saw him again, but everything she had planned escaped her now that the time was finally here. There was only one thing she could do.

She had to just close her eyes and speak from the heart.

“When I married Alexei it wasn’t my choice,” she started, and once the words started they just kept going. “The marriage was arranged and I did what I was told. I never questioned it.”

This wasn’t anything Clint didn’t already know; what he hadn’t read in her file years ago she had told him since. She had never gotten into the details, though. Even though she had turned to face him, and she continued her story she dropped her eyes to her hands. It would be easier if she didn’t look at him.

“The marriage had been set up, but I grew to love him anyway.” It still hurt to talk about it more than a decade later; some wounds never healed. “I loved him, and when he was killed I was devastated and decided I was never going to let myself be that vulnerable again. Love was for the innocent and naive and I was neither of these things. It was a luxury I didn’t deserve so I shut it out.”

He knew how the rest of that story went. After Alexei’s death she had gone rogue, using the skills the Red Room had given her to do her own jobs. She sold herself out to the highest bidder and she didn’t care what she had to do for it. That was how SHIELD had caught wind of her, and it was why they had sent Clint after her.

“You did more than spare my life that day. You saved me,” Natasha forced herself to look at him now. “You saved me from myself. Since then you’ve trusted me, believed in me and... you’re the most important thing in my life, Clint.”

Her chest felt tight, her throat dry, and as much as she tried to ignore it she could feel her eyes starting to burn. “You... when I thought...” she was losing it, her words were failing her. She had to just say it. “I loved Alexei, but what I feel for you is so much stronger.”

He was patient, he listened, but it hurt. He hurt for her.

He knew her past, he'd been the one they'd sent her files to, he'd been the one to hunt her done, he'd watched her break in half and he'd made a call off his own back. He'd chose to save the wreck and help rebuild it.

He knew her past, but knowing and experiencing it were two different things. He had no sickening love story, just handfulls of countless women he'd gone through during his time being a traitor and trying to reform.

Clint waited until she was finished, took a deep breath and had to take a moment to realise what she'd said before he was moving, turning his body to face her, hand reaching for hers to interlink their fingers, his other hand moved to her cheek, swiping a thumb under one red eye and bit his lip.

"You saved yourself. You wanted it as much as I didn't want to kill you. You made the call to come with me, you put your life in the hands of a man you'd only just met, one who was on order to destroy you." He paused, let his hand drop from her cheek to her knee, squeezing it softly.

"Listen, all of that, it's the past and we can't change that, no matter how hard you wish you could, there's nothing you can do. But this.." He nodded down to their hands, flexing his fingers softly. "This is your future if you want it."

She hadn't said it back, not that one word but what she had said made his heart pound against his ribcage. "I love you, everything about you and.. I tried to stop myself from falling that deep because I knew you wouldn't accept it but, it was too late, by the time I realised it it was too late and I couldn't do anything about it." He shifted closer, his hand moving from her knee back to her face, cupping her cheek in his hand as he ran his tumb along her skin softly. "I love you Tasha.. completely and stupidly in love with you."

She leaned into his touch, missing it already when he dropped his hand, but his fingers were still entwined with hers and she held on tightly.

“You gave me a choice. I didn’t get a lot of those in my life,” she said, her free hand moving to grasp his shirt at the side of his waist, fisting the material in her hand. She had been little better than a soulless machine, built to do whatever she was told and never once did she disobey. Clint had given her the choice, to live or to die, to try a new life or give up all together. Even in her state of grief she had never been one to give up.

The thing about Natasha was that even though she had done so many horrible things in her life she didn’t waste her time with regret. She didn’t wish to go back and change things, she only wished to atone however she could now. Her past was a part of her and she clung to what memories she had, but she preferred to live in the present. Only now was she realising there was also the future to look forward to.

She did want it, she did want to be with him, but before she could form the words he was talking again. He was telling her he loved her, again and again, and she felt her heart hammering and her breath becoming shorter but... she wasn’t afraid anymore. Love didn’t have to be a luxury only the child she had been could afford. It didn’t have to be a weakness nor a fantasy. Love could be real, even for someone like her.

She moved her hand to the side of his face as well, unable to stop herself from leaning forward to kiss him. She kissed him briefly, twice, three times; she didn’t have the breath to make it longer, he had taken her breath away. Maybe she could do the same. “I love you too.”

He didn't say anything, just carefull squeezed her hand, letting her scrunch up his shirt. If it kept her grounded and helped her then he'd let her do almost anything.

Her kisses were almost confirmation, he lost count quickly with the warm feeling settling inside of his head. A mixture of what was going to be, and the vodka. And then she just had to go and say it, the real confirmation. Those four little words made this a blissful moment and jesus he wondered if he was dreaming. Wonder if he'd wake up any moment and it would be day one, and he'd be alone, cold and shaking.

But no, this appeared real, from her firm weight, to the way he nudged his nose into hers with a smile creeping onto his lips. One he knew for a fact wouldn't wash off for a while, a damn long while.

He dropped her hand, lifted both of them up to press against her face, lips finding hers easily and jesus, he clung on because he had to. He wanted to roll her over, press against her and just hold her close but this was new for them both and hell, he was far too pleased with how the situation had gone down. he broke the kiss, almost left breathless but everything because yes, she really had taken his breath away.

"I promise, I'm not going to leave you." He didn't know that, he couldn't make that promise but jesus if there was a choice whether to walk the earth forever or 'move on' he'd take the former option. "I can't even, describe how.." No, his brain had gone and he was suddenly struggling to find the right words to say, but his mind was blank. "Tasha, I can't even tell you how, how happy this makes me." Jesus at this rate his eyes would get all red and watery and he had nothing to blame it on except for the flood of emotion crashing into him like a wave. And relief, jesus so much relief.

This was the kiss she had been longing for since she’d gotten back; hell, it was the kiss she had dreamt of since she left. They had said a lot in the past few minutes, and the kiss only elaborated on it until she wasn’t sure she’d ever breathe again. For so long she had deprived herself of love; she had built a wall around her heart that was supposed to be impenetrable, but Clint had torn it down, brick by brick, she had just been too scared to acknowledge it. Now that she had, though; now that she realised what she had been hiding from and let herself love him she felt like she was drowning in it, drowning in him.

She knew he was making promises he couldn’t keep but she didn’t care, she understood the sentiment behind it. He would never leave her by choice, and that promise she would accept even if she didn’t say it. She was having a hard time saying anything right now, and it seemed so was he. In the end, though, he got the words out. He was happy. No, better than that: she had made him happy. Natasha knew she made him happy in the past, but as their relationship grew more serious she didn’t realise until that last night they were together just how miserable she made him as well. She never wanted to do that to him again. He wanted more than she had been ready to give, but he had been willing to accept that just to be with her, willing to give up everything he wanted just to have her. No more.

She kissed him again, still breathless and needy, before wrapping her arms around his neck and just pulling him close, just wanting to hold him, to be close to him. “Good,” she said. “I want you to be happy.” More than that she wanted to make him happy. Maybe she wasn’t as willing as him to give up everything for his happiness, that way only led to resentment; but she was willing to meet him halfway. She was through being a taker; if they were really going to make this work, and god she wanted to, then she had to give more than a little as well.

She missed the biggest point of all, one he'd been trying to stress for a very long time. He was never truely miserable, on the surface maybe but happiness always won out in the end. "Natasha, you've always had that. You've made me happy for years."

It was the truth. For all the little arguments, for everything he wished he could say but kept under lock and key, for all the times he'd sat and wondered what the point was or where they were going he had still be happy. Happy because she'd reformed him just like he had her, happy because she'd become his closest friend and he hadn't ever truely had many of those in his life, happy because she trusted him, because she wanted his company. Happy because she was his home, and for a man who never had a stable upbringing there was nothing finer than that.

He didn't want her to give up everything, that would change her, he didn't want her to change, not for him nor for anybody else. He dropped hands to her waist, careless of the pizza now considering it was no longer a high priority, but far more concerned with how close he could pull her into his body.

"Thank you," The words were mumbled into her hair as he held her close and let her take what she needed. He had to thank her, for everything she'd done, for never giving up on him, for wanting to be with him and for trying, all for him.

She wanted to believe him, and maybe it was true, but she couldn’t help but feel that more recently he had been hiding just how miserable he had been. She had definitely hurt him their last night together by not being willing to talk about going public with their relationship, and by hiding her assignment from him until it was down to hours before she left. Maybe she couldn’t fix how that had all gone down, but in the end it had led to this moment and from now on she could be better.

“I”m happier with you than I’ve ever been,” she said, wanting to give him something but also because it was true. There wasn’t a time in her life that she had been more sure of herself, more confident of who she was; there wasn’t a time she had ever been happier. With Clint she could be herself because he loved her for who she truly was, not who she was pretending to be or even who she thought she was. She was happy, and she attributed much of that directly to him. What he was thanking her for, though, she wasn’t certain. If anyone should be grateful it was her, and not just because he had let her live all those years ago, but because he had shown her how to live and have given her so much worth living for.

The pizza and vodka were long forgotten, and when he tried to pull her closer Natasha did her best to comply. It was difficult with how they were sitting, their legs got in the way, so she gently pulled them over with a mumbled “come here” until they lay on their sides. She tangled her legs with his, one between his and the other draped over his hip, and pressed closer, tucking her head under his chin. “Best homecoming,” she muttered against his chest.

He shuffled with her, every movement seemed so insignificant but Clint's heart was still beating too hard for his chest and he felt like he'd been sent off to a limbo world where normalcy was their thing. He had been miserable, miserable that he couldn't show their friends how happy she made him, miserable that he couldn't profess to the world that the red head was his. That was his misery, but now maybe things would change. Small changes, tiny little things that would shift their dynamic towards a better future for both of them, and as a partnership.

He let her shift him however she wanted, moved his legs so she could slide one between his. One hand reached under the cover to rest on the leg hooked over his hip. Clint held her close, free hand trailing fingers softly through her hair, untangling small knots here and there as he went. "You're telling me.. this has probably been my favourite day." He smiled although she couldn't see, smiled because he was happy. There'd be misery, there'd be arguments, but the fact that she'd confessed what her heart said was enough to see him through whatever lay ahead.

"Y'know, I thought you were gonna tell me to get lost. I expected the worst but this, this is perfect Tasha. I know this is a big gamble, but we'll get through anything and everything together." Thick as thieves.

Smiling at his words, Natasha closed her eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. In Clint’s arms was where she belonged; she felt relaxed, safe… she felt like she was home.

As comfortable as she was, though, she couldn’t help but wonder… what now? Did they just continue on as they always had? Did they go seek out the others and tell them? She wasn’t big on public displays of affection, she felt there were some things better kept to themselves, some things she didn’t want to share, but at the same time she wanted to give him more. Maybe it was best to not plan anything and just let it happen naturally.

Pulling back enough that she could look at him, Natasha’s brow pinched together slightly. She wanted to ask why he would think that, but she probably didn’t want to hear the answer. She had been so closed off, so insistent they keep their relationship a secret, and had always changed the subject when he tried to talk about anything deeper than the surface. It was understandable that he would think she’d run, but didn’t he realise she was lost without him? One hundred and seven days; that was how long she had had to contemplate his declaration and decide what she wanted to do about it, and in all honesty the time away was probably a good thing. Had she had to answer him right away things might have gone very differently, and his fears might have been realised. As it was she had one hundred and seven days to miss him, to think about him and what he meant to her; she had the space and the time to analyse her own feelings and decided what to do about them. The mission had really been a blessing in disguise, even if she might never admit that aloud.

“Good thing I like to gamble,” she said, moving her hand up to brush over his cheek and along his jaw. “I didn’t finish the mission early because it was easy,” she admitted, but didn’t elaborate, instead relying on him to fill in the blanks.

Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)

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