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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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.

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.

Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)

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