He listens until he can't take the pain in her voice anymore. Hawkeye's boots hit the floor almost noiselessly, but Natasha heard it and whirls around, panic in her eyes. "Don't stop on my account." He states coolly. "How long have you been there?" She bristles.
"Since Chi'ix- to berezhinix ruk teplo." Clint sees the tension rippling beneath her skin. She's embarrassed that he caught her, and though her face is a blank page, the way her arms are crossed over her body, the tenseness of her muscles and the crack in her Black Widow armor that she only allows when she's around him. It's in the frozen lake that's her eyes, a small crack that lets all of her emotions flow through. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but Clint sees it the same way he sees an opening for a shot.
"'Tasha," He starts softly and she flinches at the sound of her name. Anger burns within him. This isn't how his partner responded to things. Something's wrong. He moves closer and she braces her body for a fight. He steps into her personal space and mentally prepares himself to hit the floor, because he knows a punch kick combo is heading his way, eta three seconds. Clint can tell something is very wrong, because Natasha is telegraphing her next move like a rookie. He catches her incoming fist and closes his hand around it and her anger breaks.
"What are you doing?" She whispers as his other hand comes to rest at her waist. "Just pretend for a moment." His tone is just as soft. The training room is spinning gently and before she realizes it, Clint has led her across the room in a slow waltz. "Go on. Sing." He prompts.
So she does. She sings of the love she believes she can never have, she sings of ghosts and of loss, of things that her training has torn away from her; of things that she yearns for. Natalia sings of frozen Siberian nights, of the glow of dawn reflecting on fresh snow, of a reunion that can only be brought on by death.
When she's finished, she rests her head against Clint's chest and lets him continue leading them across the room. They stay in silence for a while, Natasha's haunting voice still ringing in their ears.
"You're wrong." He says. Natasha looks up at him, silently posing a question. He doesn't answer her, just presses a kiss to her forehead and lets her go, bowing as he leaves for the ladder to his perch.
She watches him, no, lets him go. She isn't ready to accept the offer he just made. But it was nice to know that the door was open.