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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So focused on Clint, it took Natasha a moment to notice the other young recruits at the back of the room and put the pieces together. This was actually more than she could have hoped for for him, a much better way to spend his time and distract himself than she had imagined he would take. Inwardly she kicked herself for feeling jealous, though hugging one’s instructor wasn’t exactly standard practice around here.

As he approached Natasha stepped to the side of the door and let it close behind her instead of walking back out like her first instinct tried to tell her to do. She studied him when he reached her, his face and his physique. She had worried he would be just a shell of a man by the time she returned, but he looked good, even better than he had before she had left. This was good news, of course, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“So do you,” she said with a strained smile. Of all the ways she had pictured their reunion, she had never thought it would be this awkward. “So you’re doing instructing now. It suits you.”

Yeah, Natasha hadn't benn the one who had to try and train a band of new recruits who had laughed at his trick shots and spent more time gossiping in pairs than listening to a word he said.

He smiled slowly, looking her over and noting the way her hair fell longer now it was straight although he lamented the lost of her soft curls. "Yeah yeah, too much time in the gym maybe.." Yeah, he had over done it but hey, it was nice to be able to count his abs again.

"Not sure if that's a compliment or... I'd prefer to be in the field but my left arm ran off for a mission and there's nothing for a handicapped hawk, so they stuck me in here.." Oh he didn't mind instructing people, he just ached to be out putting himself to better use.

When he mentioned the gym she couldn’t stop her eyes from traveling over his body, noting how the black t-shirt fit just snug enough to hint at the well toned muscles underneath while the short sleeves did nothing but accentuate his arms. She didn’t think it was possible for his biceps to have gotten any bigger than the already had been, but they did appear that way.

Christ, three and a half months had been a long, lonely time.

Snapping her eyes back up to his there was a moment of concern when he spoke of being handicapped. It took her a moment to realise he had been referring to her running off on a mission. “You are far from handicapped,” she said with a soft half smile even if she too had felt like part of her was missing the whole time she had been gone. “Your students seem to like you,” she noted, gaze moving over his shoulder to the group of young agents behind him and the excitable blonde in particular. “Are they all so... friendly?”

He felt rather than saw her eyes drop down, eyebrow perked in and shoulders shrugging. "Kept my mind off things.." She didn't ask for a reason, but he still gave one, just in case she wondered why he'd forced his body to the limits.

He caught her gaze, smile creeping onto his lips and hell he wanted to reach out and smooth that straight hair away from her face, but with the weight of subtle gazes behind him he thought better of it and kept his hands to himself. "Oh I dunno, one of those guys nearly took my hand off the other day." Yeah, that hadn't been fun and Clint had praised his quick reflexs for enabling him to move his hand from that target as quickly as he did.

He cocked his head, looked over to the group who were standing around pretending not to be monitering their conversation. "Nah, they kind of like to mock the whole Hawkeye thing but I dunno, maybe that got old." He laughed, crossed arms over his chest just to give his hands something to do. "She's been struggling with hitting targets, give her a gun and she's spot on, but her precision needed sharpening so, to the archery range.." He reached, punching her shoulder lightly, "Not everyone is as much of a hardass as you are."

So just like she had thrown herself into her mission, he had done the same with is workout routine, and for the same reason, at least partially. She had also been trying to get home as quick as she could, which panned out rather well in the end. “Well it seems to have paid off,” she said.

“Archery isn’t for everyone,” Natasha said, watching the occasional fleeting glances that were thrown at her. Most of them had probably arrived after she had left on assignment and had no idea who she was. “Give me a gun any day.”

It wasn’t that she was jealous, exactly... okay, so she was but she knew she had no reason to be. She didn’t think Clint was even capable of cheating on her, though she couldn’t truthfully claim she hadn’t wondered if he had taken her silence after his confession as proof that their relationship would never progress and had decided to move on. It wasn’t like he could have contacted her to tell her he had found someone who wasn’t afraid to show her affection.

Meeting his eyes again when he punched her shoulder, she propped her hands on her hips in mock irritation. “Just because I don’t hug everyone who does something nice for me or cry over every little thing doesn’t mean I’m a hardass.” Unless it was just Clint that this girl liked to throw herself at.

Clint nodded, no, Archery took a certain skill, patience, observation, precision. "Yeah but y'know, it hones other skills, makes you focus on a target."

He laughed at her stance, her words, shaking his head as he mocked her, placing his hands on his own hips. "I'd ask why you're not hugging me, but let's not excite the kids right?" Kids, yeah, some of them were almost the same age as him, not everyone was as young and fresh faced as that Bishop kid.

Pushing it, keep your mouth shut, pretend you hadn't declared your love for her through a crack between two metal sheets and move on. "You wanna go grab lunch or something? You can fill me in about how boring your mission was. Sure I've earnt a break, this teaching shit is hard work."

“True. You’re definitely the most focused person I know... at least when you want to be,” Natasha teased. She couldn’t help but smile at him when he mimicked her stance, her earlier worries fading. This was Clint; even if he had decided to move on he... oh, who was she kidding? He wouldn’t, not without a fight, not without definitive proof that she wanted to end things which he was simply never getting, especially not now.

“Right. I would hate to ruin my hardass image,” she replied, no matter how badly she wanted to just throw her arms around him. “Then they will all think it’s okay to hug me.” Which would not go over well at all.

Calling them kids was a bit odd, though, considering some of them were probably older than she was. The blonde didn’t look that much younger at any rate.

Natasha hesitated a moment following his invitation. She had hoped to talk to him alone, but that could always wait, right? Not that she was putting it off or anything. “I haven’t eaten since I flew out, so I’m starving,” she said after a moment. “Cafeteria?”

"What's with all the compliments huh? What you after?" He grinned, the last part was a joke. If Natasha wanted something she generally vocalized it.

He couldn't move on, that would be impossible for him. Considering he couldn't even look at another woman and think he could just give Natasha up for her, no, not happening. Not unless she made it clear, not unless she cast him aside first.

"Yeah, can't have them thinking you're a soft case." He wanted to say something different, but that was pushing boundaries he didn't want to cross. Not quite sure where exactly their 'relationship' stood since he'd spilt his guts and watched her go.

"You always were bad with grabbing food and yeah, unless you want to go find somewhere a little more upscale, but that would mean I'd have to change, this isn't exactly diner finery." He nodded, fingers reaching to touch her shoulder softly before he turned, made his way back to his group and told them to go find Hill, or to go to the gym, anything to get them to leave and stop looking between him and Natasha. He collected the bows from ech person, not trusting the equipment to actually be left in the room considering there was a twenty something fresh out of college who looked a little too longingly at the weapon.

He nodded over at Natasha, that silent language beckoning her over as the trainees started moving to leave, leaving him to collect arrows and try and tidy the area up a little.

“I’m not allowed to be nice every once in a while?” Natasha replied. There was actually plenty that she wanted, just now wasn’t the time and place for any of it. In truth she had missed him, plain and simple, and if that made her a little more complimentary than usual then so be it.

“Exactly. If I ever have to train them or work with them on anything, I would prefer they be intimidated by me,” she said, wiping the smile off her face as she looked over his shoulder at the rookies again. A few of them who had been watching rather closely looked quickly away.

“It doesn’t have to be upscale,” she said, actually preferring to get him away from headquarters for a while, but he probably didn’t have a lot of time, he was still working after all. “The cafeteria is fine.”

The slight contact of his hand on her shoulder, no matter how brief and innocent the touch, sent a current through her. She wanted nothing more than to just pull him into her arms, bury her face against his neck and just hold him. It had been too long, those months filled with worries and fears and the occasional nightmare, and while she could see that he was fine her body still craved the physical reassurance.

As Clint’s students filed out, she passed them on her way further into the room and busied herself with plucking arrows from one of the targets.

"Okay okay I get your point." He laughed. Shaking his head softly as he watched her. Dear god he wanted to just pull her into his arms and kiss the life out of her but now was not the time, not when he was still concerned that he'd broken their ease.

"See that's where we differ, but that's just how we work. You are intimidating though, in a good way, I think.. I'll just just my shovel and start digging." Yeah, and it had started, that awkward attitude he gained around her, that stupid, awkward attitude.

"Anything is fine, I don't mind, we can go grab burgers or something.." He nodded to her, giving her a half smile.

He was careful to watch her, letting out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when the last of the gawkey agents left the room and it was silent except for the sound of Natasha working on the arrows. "Welcome home, by the way, It's really good to see you back and the hair is... it's nice, you do look great.." Since when did conversation become awkward? He hadn't seen her for over three months and yet he was acting like a stupid teenage boy.

Oh yeah, perhaps he'd changed the dynamic. They needed to talk about it, he needed to backtrack, somehow get out of it, charm, a lot of wiggling, he wasn't sure how, but somehow, someway he needed to try and sort this out.

Everything had been going pretty good as far as Natasha was concerned, but then they had been playing their usual game of friendly banter that they always played when there were other people around, and that hadn’t changed. When they were alone again, though, the awkwardness settled in like a heavy fog.

This was definitely not how she had imagined this going.

She didn’t care about burgers or what they ate; it was easy to ignore her hunger when her stomach was churning with nerves.

“Thanks,” she replied, brushing her hair back behind her ear in what was probably the closest she had looked and felt like self conscious in a very long time. Plucking the last arrow from the target, she moved over to where Clint stood and held them out to him. She didn’t know what to say, what could she say to make this better? So she went with what sat closest to her heart at that moment, the thing she was feeling stronger than everything else. “I missed you,” she admitted quietly.

That was just it, it was easy when there were other people hanging around, where Clint could make idle small talk easily because they couldn't discuss them, what they were doing. There would never be awkwardness when there was somebody close enough to hear them.

But this was killing him. His heart was aching in his chest, his fingers were on fire, craving to reach out and grab her, push her against the nearest solid wall, pick her up and hold her close and give her three months worth of kisses.

He couldn't do it to himself though, couldn't break himself anymore. Three months of constant worrying about what she'd say when she got back and she'd chose to not address it.

He watched her with a small smile as she pushed back her hair when really he wanted to do that himself, wanted to stroke fingers along the red curtains. He took the arrows, carefully lined them so they all sat equal in length and he was just about to get him down in the small box when she spoke and he looked at her, the arrows and their length forgotten for the moment.

"I missed you too, although you already knew that." His heart hammered in his chest, maybe things had changed slightly, although this could just be lip service to keep him docile, keep him believing that he hadn't ruined anything. "I missed you a lot, nothing was the same without you here."

She watched his movements, always so precise and measured, especially when it came to his archery equipment. Years ago she used to joke that the reason he was single was because he could never love a woman as much as he did his bow and arrows, and no woman ever wanted to play second fiddle to anything. Back then she never would have guessed that she would be that woman, no matter how true the rest of it might be.

She did know it, she knew he had missed her, but then he had to keep talking and, damn it, she should have waited by the door for all the trainees to leave so she could have locked it behind them.

During her time away everything had changed for her, but now that she was back it was as if nothing had; she was falling right back into all the same old patterns and tricks that had almost destroyed everything before ending in a love confession, all in the span of twenty four hours. The time apart had forced her to realise many things, and she had to remember that, had to stick with it, because Clint deserved so much better than she had been giving him before.

They had to talk; if they wanted to work this out they needed to talk somewhere they could be alone and undisturbed, but for now...

Throwing caution to the wind Natasha grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to her before sliding her arms around his back and burying her face in his chest.

The easiness was gone, as he met her eyes he had a moment of understanding. Later, sometime later. Those micro expressions, their silent language. He understood it but made no move to show he understood, aware that she may not have wished for him to read her.

As her fingers found the front of his shirt he was certain they'd sort this out. They had to, without her he was lost yet with her it was destroying him, his need for normal, it was becoming a bad habit.

So he let her press into his space, didn't object as her arms slipped behind his back and her face curved into him just as easy as before. He gave in, sank arms around her waist, pulled her impossibly closer and slid one hand up to do what he'd wanted, to smooth fingers through her hair while he breathed her in.

They'd be okay because they had to be.

"I missed this, the way you smell, your curves, the smile you wear, your laugh.." He sighed, burying his face into her hair, into the crook of her neck until he could press lips to the skin under her ear. "No more long assed solo missions. No more deep cover. We're partners..."

Home. That’s what it felt like when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him. His body was different, muscled more defined, but he still smelled like him and she still felt the same in his embrace. Home wasn’t New York, it wasn’t Stark’s tower, and it sure wasn’t SHIELD headquarters; home was right here in his arms.

She was practically clinging to him as he spoke, and clinging to every word just as tightly. She wanted to return it all just as good but her throat felt tight and she couldn’t seem to find the right words. She could do one better though, at least when it came to Natasha speak. She could tell him she missed him all she wanted, but she could prove it even easier.

“I have a meeting with Fury. Next week,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. She shouldn’t have touched him, she should have just gone to lunch and talked later, because now that she had she was a goner; now that he was in her arms she never wanted to let him go. “I’m going to tell him I don’t want to do them any more.”

She knew it wouldn’t go over well, and it could possibly end her career with SHIELD, but she didn’t care any more. She was a spy, and a damn good one, and these missions were her specialty, but this one had been so miserable she couldn’t face the idea of another, not without Clint. Having seen how reckless she had been maybe Fury would agree.

He'd say he didn't believe her, but he knew better. If she said she was going to do something nine times out of ten she went ahead with it. His arm tensed around her waist, the fingers he'd stroked through her hair stopped and he pulled back only slightly to look down at her. "You're serious about this right? This is something you want..?"

He had to ask, needed the vocal confirmation that she didn't want them anymore, because Clint sure as hell didn't want to sit and watch her go again, and he sure didn't want to go off on his own, not without her by his side.

Fury would hate it but technically Fury owed her a big one. he'd been the one to rubber stamp the call to end her life, and she'd turned out one of his best agents. He owed her that much.

Clint smiled and fuck everything, he reached, tilting her head up and finding her lips in a brief kiss, cut short by the fact they were still in a public place, anybody could walk in and they still hadn't had the talk, although with the way things were going Clint was pretty sure this was a direction he was going to be happy with.

"Come on, let's head back to the tower, order some food in, crash out." Hill could go to hell, it ws pretty obvious that he wasn't going to join up with the junior agents to go watch them go over the same routines he'd been teaching them for the past week. "I changed your sheets like I said I would." Gold star for the busy home maker.

In all honesty Natasha hadn’t been sure. The thing about the solo missions was that she was really good at them, the best, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed them. She was growing tired of the extended periods of being someone else, of being away from everything and everyone she cared about. Gaining people’s trust only to stab them in the back had been easy until she’d done it to Tony and Pepper. Tony she could handle, he hadn’t exactly been a peach the whole time, but Pepper... it had taken a long time to regain Pepper’s trust after that, something that Natasha had been surprised to find had genuinely bothered her.

Still, she hadn’t been sure until that very moment, until she heard it in Clint’s voice just how bad he wanted it to be true. “It’s what I want,” she confirmed, returning his smile. She didn’t even stop him when he kissed her, though she had to give him credit for keeping it brief.

His suggestion to leave was exactly what she wanted to hear. She had been so close to just suggesting he blow off the rest of the day, but it was probably better he decided to do so on his own. “Take out and clean sheets? How can I possibly say no?” Who cared that it was only early in the afternoon; it sounded like the perfect way to spend the rest of the day. Pulling out of his arms, she was already heading for the door. “Let’s get going before someone comes looking for you.”

If it's what she wanted then Clint wouldn't complain. If she'd vocalized her doubts he'd have told her to stick with it. He'd still be supportive even if it crushed him, because just like all the other times Clint would simply back down for her.

"Big greasy pizza, clean sheets, might even get some 'snuggles' if you're lucky." He grinned, following after her like the puppy he was, nodding eagerly at her suggestion and following through the door.

He had to change, couldn't exactly go into the outside world wearing his black ensemble, opting for his usual choice of jeans, a shirt and jacket, minus the shooting glove which he off course took extra care with.

The ride wasn't awkward, he made light conversation with jokes thrown here and there, pointed out new buildings that had finished construction since she'd been gone, told her about the crazy pigeon lady who'd accosted him on his early morning runs five times in one week before he'd caved and handed her a few dollars to buy bird seed to feed the birds like that musical with the flying nanny.

Take out would be awkward and would take forever if they phoned it through, so he'd stopped briefly to disappear into a greasy pizza shop, one of the best because New York simply had the best pizza and when he returned he made her nurse it carefully as if it was a child. One pizza with extra cheese and an assortment of toppings they both liked.

It was in a shady parking spot in the Stark Tower where he caved, he hadn't just picked this spot on a whim. A blind spot in the camera system, one Stark still hadn't fixed and he took full pleasure in abusing it by leaning over to kiss her, subtly checking on the pizza as well.

"Tomorrow I'll make you that breakfast in bed, y'know I like to keep my promises."

Even though they hadn’t had time to talk much, what little they had said had been enough to break the tension and return the ease to their interactions. As per usual, when it came to small talk, Clint did most of the talking, and Natasha enjoyed playing tourist for a little while, looking at all the places he pointed out and laughing at his silly jokes and stories. How she had gone over three months without this she wasn’t sure, but while she never wanted to do so again she couldn’t help but think it hadn’t been an entirely bad thing.

She waited in the car while he picked up the pizza, knowing she didn’t even have to tell him what she wanted on it because he always knew, and she even humoured him by holding it carefully in her lap while he drove them back to the tower.

She was just unfastening her seatbelt when he leaned over to kiss her and this time he didn’t get away so easily. Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck she didn’t waste time replying to his words, just brought his lips back to hers to kiss him deeply as if reminding herself of the shape of his mouth, the taste on his tongue. Only when she was in danger of tipping the pizza over and simply throwing herself at him did she pull back. “Maybe we should move this upstairs...”

Something had changed, he was positive now with her hand curled around the back of his neck and her relearning what seemed to be every inch of his mouth. Her suggestion was taken with a nod since he was slightly breathless and perplexed by her sudden change in demeanor. Or maybe she remembered about the blind spot. Still he'd tell himself otherwise.

He all but climbed out the car and even though he waited for her, lingering around the back he couldn't help but lightly touch her elbow as he attempted to speed up the process. Upstairs was a good idea, he'd even left a couple of surprises in her room, ones she'd be sure to appreciate, maybe.

He was excited, that much was evident by the way he shuffled in his shoes and stabbed buttons on the elevator panel and all but jostled her into it when the doors slide open. "I still can't believe your back, like what, two weeks early too."

Stepping out of the car, Natasha carefully carried the pizza with her even though Clint seemed a little less concerned now about coddling the thing and more interested in getting upstairs as soon as possible. She wore a small smile, a secret smile, but inside it was much bigger.

“They must have underestimated my skills,” she replied coyly as he herded her into the lift. This was a much more pleasant ride than the last time she had been in it, burdened with the impending separation and Clint’s sudden confession of love. She had been so thrown, so confused then, but it seemed so long ago now. “I was just glad they hadn’t sent you anywhere in my absence.” It would have been like the universe’s cruel joke if she would have risked everything to get home early only to find him gone.

"They always do.." he never did. He knew her skill, knew how she operated being by her side so many times under impossible odds. She was more than a warrior.
"No where for them to send me, nothing to do except mope around for the first few weeks, after that they dragged me into training and well, yeah."

Honestly he'd have probably preffered being sent across the country to some remote location, if it meant he had something to do but missing her homecoming would have hurt.

"So I kinda have some things for you, well one of thems for me, the others for you but I'm not sure how you'll feel about it." He declared this just before they reached her floor and the doors slid smoothly open. The first was his own damn toothbrush situated in the bathroom, for those awkward onion and garlic induced morning breath attacks, the second was some stupid key chain in the shape of a stupid hawk he'd spotted while romaing the streets like a stray dog. Except yeah, he couldn't buy just one, he'd had to buy the whole box consisting of ten multicoloured stuffed hawks hanging from keychains.

"It was stupid, I saw it and thought 'hey now you get to take me everywhere' but yeah, your meeting with Fury will kinda throw that thought out the window." He didn't mention he'd got nine more hoarded on his own floor, peeking out from odd places.

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.

Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)

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