arachnat

[arachnat]

godsrighteousman:

“Oh, ha ha,” he said dryly, one eyebrow quirking up. “Very funny.” Steve, although he hated to admit it, loved their “fights”; and not just in the training room. He couldn’t - and didn’t - banter like this with anyone else but Natasha, and being with her felt like a relief from the seriousness of his world. “For that, I’m not saying anything else on the subject.”

“I know, right? I’m hilarious.” Joking with Steve was entirely different than joking with anyone else - even Clint. With Clint it was a whole lot of inside jokes and weird metaphors that made her stomach ache from laughing sometimes. With Steve it was all underhanded insults and harmless backstabbing jabs; and Natasha loved it. “Oh, like you were gonna anyway? Yeah right, Rogers. You might as well go ask Thor how they managed to sew Loki’s mouth shut and just do that.”

[arachnat]

godsrighteousman:

Steve exhaled when Natasha asked the question. Of course, it was bound to happen at some point, and he could tell she’d been waiting to bring this up. This was gonna be good. “You calling me a liar, Romanoff?” he questioned, one eyebrow raised, his tone full of jest. “Well, despite how much you hate it, you’re wrong.” He have her a casual shrug and half a smile. “Sorry.”

“Yup. And not just about this.” The facade of Captain America wasn’t half as good as most of her own covers - she could see through it, as could anyone else who cared enough to look. “Who’s the liar now, Rogers?” she quipped back, quirking a brow in his direction. She laughed a little, attempting not to smile too wide. “Oh, don’t apologize to me - apologize to whoever you kissed.”

[arachnat]

The smell of idoform attacked her senses, and the bright lights of the hospital wing was such a stark contrast to the midnight darkness outside that Nat had to blink a few times to be able to see clearly. The front desk was a blur. 

“Oh, he’s in 173. Room 173, first floor. But, ma’am, you can’t go in unless you’re fa - ”

She rushed through the hallway, shoving people aside and not bothering to say anything. She was in no mood for pleasantries. There wasn’t any time for that (not that there was usually time for that, but today was a special case).

She’d been sleeping when her phone rang. No one called her, not usually - not without texting first. Not even Steve did that anymore. And so when Nat had answered it with caution, the voice on the other end was going to be a shock no matter what.

“He has you down as his only emergency contact. You can -”

She’d hung up and left immediately, and now she was so close, so close to room 173, yet she found herself stopping short of the door, too afraid to go in. What would she find in there? A ventilator keeping him alive? A feeding tube in his stomach? A sheet-covered body?

A nurse swung out of the door, absorbed in her clipboard, and it jarred Nat from her fears. The door was winging shut behind the nurse, and Nat took the opportunity to slide in undetected.

“Clint.”

The name fell from her lips long before she had a chance to think it over. He was laying there on the white sheets, bruised and bloody but alive. Alive. 

“Jesus christ!” She exclaimed, moving over to the bed and pulling the pillow out from under him. Hitting him with it once (albeit lightly), she let it drop to the floor as she struggled to keep the relief from her face. “You son of a bitch. You got hit by a car?”

[arachnat]

“Hey, Rogers,” Nat said, voice all but dripping with a low-toned tease. “Remember that time in the mall when we kissed?” She chuckled as if she was remembering something that had happened ten years ago, when in reality it had barely been a year since that fateful day. “It was totally your first since ‘45, by the way.”

[arachnat]

[arachnat]

well, fuck.

@dogbarton

Even after all her years spent at SHIELD, Natasha was still surprised at how immense the organization’s several headquarters was. New York’s HQ was the biggest, but she’d been to London’s, Berlin’s, and --- most memorably --- Budapest’s, along with a few others that had since been destroyed or moved. And while the latter was her favorite, New York was where she found herself the most. Lately she’d been assigned to training, making sure that young trainees were prepared for anything, but she much preferred field work. The training reminded her far too much of her own training, and she shivered at the very memory.

But, riding in the elevator next to Clint on their way to another training seminar, Natasha didn’t feel so bad. Maybe it was the repetition of it, maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe --- just maybe --- it was the fact that Clint was there. Whatever the reason, she was glad. Training became a lot easier when you actually wanted to train.

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” she reminded Clint again, finding it necessary to make sure he realized she could manage on her own. “I can handle a few trainees.”

Just then, the elevator door dinged and slid open, revealing something that was not the SHIELD training floor. Instead of high-tech computers and agents wearing regulatory outfits, the doors revealed desks littered with paper --- she wasn’t used to seeing so much paper --- and old lamps, walls covered with filing cabinets, women in tan and brown pencil skirts, and men --- a lot of men --- in what appeared to be World War II uniforms. The huge table in the middle  with a map of the world littered with Axis and Allies figures, surrounded by officers and women with long sticks, was either an over-sized RISK board game, or wasn’t a game at all.

This wasn’t a simulation. No one had any reason to simulate what sure did look like a bustling war strategy room from the 1940s, and Natasha knew it. Sensing that Clint had caught on to the situation as well, she glanced at him and swallowed.

“Well,” she said, taking a deep, albeit a bit shaky, breath. “Fuck.”

[arachnat]

Natasha sighed quietly, having always known Steve wouldn’t let her change the subject so easily. After all, he was an expert at it, and would definitely know when someone else attempted to do it to him. But deep down she didn’t want to change the subject anyway; after such an… emotional encounter with Clint, there was no one to talk to it about but Steve, and it felt good to share her thoughts – something she wasn’t used to doing.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, her tone thoughtful and distant. “But it was… different to hear it, y’know?” Her brows tightened for a moment, but she looked up to Steve openly when he asked if she had replied. She found herself smiling at the memory as she replied, her gaze going down to the floor --- in more of a bashful happiness than discomfort. “I told him I loved him, too.”

 Steve shrugged at her vague description, finding it hard to wipe the smile from his face; he was talking to one of the best spies in the world, yet she chose to say y’know. At her insult, he pointed to her, raising an eyebrow. “I’m gonna ignore that,” he stated, coming to a stop before continuing. “Besides, you can’t just change the subject. You’re the one who started it, and you can’t leave me hanging now.”

Steve was somewhat surprised by her answer – He said he loved me. He looked at her then, really looked at her, and he realized - as impossible as it seemed - that no one had ever said that to her before. “Well, he sure wasn’t discreet about it, truth be told. Did you… say anything back?”

[arachnat]

If she thought her throat couldn’t get dryer, she was proved wrong as Clint continued to talk. She’d always known he felt this way, from nearly the very first time they met, all those years ago. He didn’t kill her; instead, it seemed, he had fallen in love with her along the way. She never even thought it was possible for someone to love her. After all, she was never herself with anyone.; she was always the spy. But with Clint... she had been herself. He brought that out of her somehow, pulling the person she was underneath all of the lies to the surface and nourishing it until she felt like herself again, if only when she was with him. And if Natasha was being honest with herself -- which she seldom was -- she loved him for that.

The pure, raw truthfulness of Clint’s words brought her back from that dark, defensive place she had been in, and her face softened a little. And when he continued even further -- I love you so much -- she found her throat constricting in sudden emotion, and her mouth parted as she exhaled. I love you was one thing, but so much... Her whole guard -- all the walls, all the traps she had set up over the years to ensnare anyone who came close to her -- crumbled at the tiny smile on his face, and she slowly started to walk over to him. When she reached him, her gaze traveled over his face, lingering on his mouth -- something that had happened quite a few times before -- before she all but collapsed onto him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. And no matter how hard it was for her to say, she knew he deserved to hear it.

“I love you, too.”

Clint’s eyes never left the floor. Even as he saw Natasha moving in his peripheral vision, he never looked up from that particularly fascinating spot between the floorboards. He had expected this reaction from her; he knew she’d known of his feelings on some level - who didn’t - so he didn’t think she would be surprised as much as… uncomfortable, maybe. He never once thought she would reciprocate his feelings, either, but he was fine with that. As long as the burden was lifted from his chest, from his soul, he knew he’d be alright. “Because it’s true,” Clint replied matter-of-factly, his gaze finally lifting to meet Natasha’s. He shrugged. “That’s all I got. I’m sorry, I really am, I just…” His voice trailed off then, his line of sight drifting to the wall behind her. “I’m just tired, Tasha. I couldn’t do it anymore. Hiding it was the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done some stuff. You know.” A weak smile formed on his face before he continued. “I love you so much. I know how it sounds, but there isn’t any other way of saying it without writing some kind of elaborate Shakespearean play, and I’m a shit writer.”

[arachnat]

“Can’t wait,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes and wondering why she opened that can of worms. The locked door gave her a silent comfort, but the easy casualness of Clint’s body language unnerved her somehow. It was probably because it was the exact opposite of how she felt, and she didn’t like feeling out of place. It was her job to blend in, and so she did her best - her best being moving to the couch and throwing herself on it, equally as ungraciously as Clint had a moment before. In the same movement, she flung her upper body into his lap, using his slouchy position as a pillow.  “Nothin’ juicy,” she assured him, trying a casual tone on for size; but it didn’t fit. “I was just... feeling kind of... off?” She stammered, but continued quickly, before she lsot the nerve. “Do you ever feel like running away?”

“Yeah, I never remember,” Clint replied with a one-shouldered shrug. “I really should get on that, though. Next time you text me, regardless of the subject, you can bet your ass I’m replying with ‘and what would you be doing if I was there?’” He absently locked the door behind her, moving to the couch and dropping onto it with ungracious flair. “So, what’s going on? Anything juicy I should know about?”

[arachnat]

x

[arachnat]

 Natashasnorted a little at his piss-poor attempts to change the subject, but shedecided to play a long – at least for a little while. “Hey,” she said sharply,pointing at him briefly. “That mug shopping trip was needed, Rogers. You were using styrofoam.”

She smiled alittle as he paused and spoke, touched at the honesty in his words. They did need it, especially now that alltheir secrets were public information. Natasha walked into the building,relishing the cold air inside. She raised both of her eyebrows, looking up atSteve with a certain kind of surprise. “Problem, huh?” She nodded, like atherapist listening to a patient. “You want something more than being friends?Does she? Has she said anything?”

“Yeah, well, not all friendships are the same,” Steve responded shortly, still clinging to the thought that he could throw her off his trail. His hopes weren’t particularly high in that department, though; she was a trained spy - and a good one - after all. “Tony didn’t go mug shopping with me like you did, either, but we’re still friends.”

Steve reached for the handle of the large door as soon as they reached the building, but Natasha’s words stopped him from opening it. “I guess they do,” he responded with a small smile, returning the eye contact. “God knows we need it.” He opened the door for her then, looking off to the side with a distracted expression before sighing. “Okay, okay. But I wasn’t lying, technically. I mean, she is my friend, but that’s all. I guess that’s the problem.”

[arachnat]

“We… y’know,” Nat said, in a tone usually reserved for kids who had gotten in trouble. She hated the way she felt, as if she wanted to crawl under a rock if only to stop the smile creeping onto the super soldier’s face. Sniffing dryly, she folded her arms and refused to meet Steve’s gaze. “I am not turning red,” she defended, looking up to finally look at him. “This is just what it looks like to have actual color in your skin. I know you wouldn’t understand.”

She sighed quietly, raising her brow just slightly at Steve’s words. “It’s fine,” she reassured him, slowly becoming less anxious around a friendly face who wasn’t, it turned out, going to scold her - as she originally thought. She sighed again before continuing. “He told me he loved me,” she said simply, almost as if that was all that needed to be said.

Steve raised his eyebrows, giving her a quick glance before setting his shield against the wall with a soft clank. He crossed his arms, confusion running across his features as her expression changed to… what? Embarrassment? Was that even possible?

Oh. “You what?” Steve choked out, his eyes widening in shock as a smile slowly spread across his lips. He was struggling to hold in laughter - not because it was funny, and certainly not because he was laughing at her - at just how long it took. “Nat, are you - are you turning red?” He asked, eyeing her playfully. “I think you’re turning red.” He glanced around then, making sure there was no one around to listen in - although he was sure Natasha had that covered the moment they walked in. “Hey, I’m glad. It was a long time coming. How’d it happen? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

[arachnat]

Natasha subconsciously noted his fidgety behavior, but she brushed it off rather selfishly - she had to talk to him. She didn’t have anyone else. She waited until they made it inside the facility and were away from prying eyes before she started talking again.

“So... I might’ve done something kinda stupid,” she admitted right away, eager to get on with it. She cleared her throat, her cheeks turning rather embarrassingly scarlet. “Okay, so, you know how... me and Clint... well, we...” Suddenly her mind buzzed with alternate things she could tell him, lies she could spin to keep her private life private - but Steve was her friend, and she knew he wouldn’t go parading her secrets about the city. “We had sex.”

Steve gave Natasha a weak smile in return to her greeting, nudging her gently with his elbow as tradition demanded. It was still hard for him to be friendly and casual with everyone after Bucky fell back into his life - he wanted to be, more than he cared to admit, but he just couldn’t. It - the search, the constant feeling of guilt - was all so frustrating, and it was nearly impossible not to take that frustration out on the people he cared about. So, naturally, his plan of remedy was to stay as distant as possible.

Steve absently adjusted the shield on his back as he listened, ignoring the fact that it wasn’t even crooked. “Sure,” he answered, his brows knitting together at the strange request. “What about?”

[arachnat]

Natasha’s hands had gone numb. Her brain felt like it had flipped in her skull, and the voice in her head was louder than ever - run, go, get out of there, ignore it, forget it ever happened, forget him - but her voice seemed to be quieter than ever. Mute, in fact - she couldn’t utter a single thing. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known. His feelings weren’t exactly secret; she didn’t even think he had tried to hide it at the end. But him saying it, it being concrete, being proven, sent her into a quiet, lethal panic. She sprung from her seat and turned away from him, taking a few steps away for comfort’s sake. Her head lowered, and she heard one of his words in particular over and over in her head: sad. It’s all very sad, he had said, and even though she wanted to believe that... was it actually sad? Was she sad, or something quite different? Natasha spun back to him then, looking angry in her shock. “Why?” She spat out impulsively, like she was interrogating him, feeling out of control and uncomfortable because of it. “Why would you say that?”

Clint looked towards the wall when she asked her question, scrunching his nose uncomfortably when he realized it was too late not to answer. He briefly debated with his common sense before deciding on an answer, figuring the truth was his best chance to get out of the situation unscathed. “The difference, Tasha, if you must know, is that I love you far more than anyone else ever could.” He felt weightless, suddenly, and it took everything in him to hold back the laughter that threatened to escape his chest after the confession. Whether said laughter was caused by happiness or panic, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. He was free. “I know because if someone else did happen to love you more, they would die. I’d have go to their funeral and pay my respects, like, ‘oh, yeah, me too, buddy. Me too.’ It’s all very sad.”

[arachnat]

Natasha laughed and snorted at his response, reaching up to press the ‘request to talk’ button repeatedly, making sure the beeping sound it would make in his apartment was loud enough to annoy him. She climbed the stairs, knowing his apartment wasn’t high enough to take the elevator, and entered his apartment without a knock. “You’re a terrible white boy, Clint,” she said. “Not once have you ever texted me ‘wyd’.” She hoped this talk would distract him from the real reason she came - she had gotten cold feet on her way.

Clint pressed the button that unlocked the building’s front door, making sure to hold it down long enough to speak to Natasha. “As a certified white boy, I can tell you with full confidence that it’d be more like ‘what would you be doing if I was there?’, then the wink face. For future reference.”

[arachnat]

Natasha finally exited the quinjet, following everyone else who had been on board. She had long since gotten into the habit of never letting anyone exit anyplace behind her - not after Budapest.  The mission they had just finished had been assisted by no one other than the Avengers, with help from a few very loyal former SHIELD agents.

She jogged to catch up to Steve, who was still clad in his full mission attire - as was she - minus his mask. She elbowed his arm lightly, smirking up at him in their usual greeting. She didn’t expect much in return from his side, though; not after SHIELD collapsed, and Bucky had gone missing again. Natasha knew he was looking for him, despite her warnings, and she also knew Sam was helping him. Steve had been more than a little distant since then, and even she - someone she considered his friend - couldn’t get to him. She didn’t blame him, though. If it was Clint and not Bucky, she didn’t know what she would do to get him back.

“Hey,” she said in a low tone, as they exited the docking bay and began walking across the small field of grass, on their way to the new Avengers facility. “Got time to talk?”

[arachnat]

Natasha didn’t often let any of her emotions float to the surface, but when Clint repeated what she had said - damned near perfect - she couldn’t allow them to simmer anymore. It had been years, and she could no longer control them. But she was so terrified of saying anything, and she doubted that she even could, when it came to it. 

She was quite unfamiliar with the warm feeling that spread throughout her when he continued - but it was a nice change, and she smiled warmly at it. Natasha looked at him quizzically when he stopped himself, and she leaned over to him and nudged him with her shoulder. “What difference, Clint?”

“Yeah?” Clint answered quietly. He recognized her attempt to remove herself from the situation, and he made a conscious decision not to let it happen; this was as close as he’d ever come to telling her the truth, and he wasn’t backing down now. “Thanks, Tasha. I mean it,” he said, his voice clearly showing his emotion. “I feel the same, you know. You’d have to find someone damned near perfect too. The difference…” He trailed off then, suddenly unable to spill the secret he’d been keeping for so long. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, I feel the same.”