A/N: I didn't really know what to classify this as so I just went with angst. As for this being a one shot or a drabble- I'll be honest, idek. But yea, here. Have some possible Clint/Nat feels.
Characters might seem a bit OOC but then again, Clint didn't have the biggest role in the movie. And here's one last final warning, this is really shitty writing so yea. Brace yourself.
*Update* I half-assedly cleaned this up. But quite frankly, it ain't gonna be perfect. Hell- it was never meant to be and I originally had no intentions of publishing it. I guess that teaches me never to post a rough draft again. Or to listen to myself at the early morning.
Much love and many thanks to the reviewers.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly.
Clint couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. But the words continued to echo dully in his mind. Natasha was leaving and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Not that he wanted to, after all, she was a grown woman and she knew what she wanted. The last thing the archer wanted was to push her in the wrong direction, away from her goals.
He tried to crush the turmoil in his mind and body but it only worked so well. Nat already knew that her leaving struck him a hard blow so there was really no point to try and hide it.
The way up to Natasha's room seemed to go on forever.
He propped himself up against the door frame and casually rapped his knuckles against the partially ajar door. "Hey Nat, I'm here to help you pack."
Natasha, who was supposed to be packing couldn't help but stare around her room. Everything in there held its own little memory. Most of them of course were of Clint, he was the one she'd miss the most out of all the other SHIELD agents. If she ever believed in anything it was that he was her soulmate. He knew every fear, every tear, and every happy moment in her life. When she upset all he had to do was be in her presence it was enough to make her feel better.
Her chest seemed to tighten at the thought, making it harder to breathe. This was her decision and she had to see it through, because she wanted it more badly then anything.
"Clint," For once he had managed to sneak up on her, but she didn't show her surprise. "Yeah, thanks for this again." Suddenly the room felt very small, a light blush had settled over her cheeks. Ducking her head so he wouldn't see, she started picking up things randomly for the floor. "Make yourself useful and put some of those things on the desk into the box next to it."
He made his way into the room with slow, precise steps. Eyes glanced around, lingering on the now barren walls. Granted there hadn't been tons of stuff up in the first place, but now they just seemed sad.
Sad, he thought with an inward laugh. Who would've thought he would describe walls as sad.
A crooked smile tinged with sadness made its way onto his face. "It's no problem Nat. After all, it's what friends are for, right?" His eyes lingered on her for a moment before turning to stare at the desk.
Natasha mulled around the room, picking up every little thing, pretending she wasn't picking up the things connecting her to this life. She didn't say anything to Clint for fear that her true emotion would show, though he probably knew anyway.
The sound of cardboard brushing against fabric and skin was loud in his ears as he slowly placed some of the valuables into the box. "You wanna get one last drink when we're done?"
Still despite the lingering sadness, she felt calm. It was this way whenever she was with Clint unless things got too emotional and personal. His voice broke her out of her reverie. "Yeah that would be fun. I could use a drink." Typical Natasha, wanting to drown her sorrows with alcohol.
"Would you like some vodka then, comrade?" He cast a glance at the red haired woman as he made sure to ask in his best imitation of a Russian accent in hopes of eliciting a laugh from the woman. Hell, it caused him to sort of smile.
Damn it she thought. Darn Clint, she didn't want to laugh but he had a way of doing that. Clint was not good at speaking Russian or imitating it for that fact. She rolled her eyes at him a small smile gracing her features.
Strong arms lifted the full box with ease as he gently walked it over towards the door. He wasn't sure where Nat wanted it but he figured that here was as good a place as any. Picking up her box, Natasha also decided the best place was to put it near the door. Setting it down with a low thud she turned to face him.
"я лучше вас" She replied while winking at him. The corners of the man's eyes crinkled slightly as he grinned and laughed. Compared to Natasha's flawless Russian his was atrocious. This worked out perfectly in the end. "Come on Barton let's go have that drink shall we?" Already half way out the door, Natasha left the room knowing the man would not be far behind.
He cast one last glance at the room before he followed the woman out, shutting the door with a gentle click and quickening his pace to catch up with his partner. "I think that drink sounds mighty fine right about now."
"Yeah just don't forget who is Russian, Clint. This means I can hold my liquor better than you." Clint let out a hearty laugh, "let's not remind the world that a woman can out drink me, okay? I've got a reputation to keep." Natasha could drink more than most people, heck she could probably drink all night and still be fine. For her, it was hard deciding if that was a good or annoying thing. Good because if she needed to be she would still be able to be on alert but bad because if she wanted to get hammered, it would take forever.
Focusing ahead of her she tried not to jump whenever their hands brushed against each other accidentally. For Clint, the gentle brushing of hands usually served as a reminder to scoot a few inches away to give the person their space.
"I'm thinking for tonight we should go to the usual bar."
He gave a slight nod in affirmation to Natasha's suggestion. "The usual sounds good."
It was the bar they went to a lot, but mostly after horrifying missions which happened to be most of the time. He worked on shoving back the sudden influx of feelings. It was their bar, the team's bar, their after mission hangout place. They had been there so often that he had lost count, lost track of what missions had been the reason for the bar visit. But he wouldn't be able to forget this one, not ever.
With a slight nod of her head, the pair made their way to the bar. Upon entering the bartender left his other customer and headed straight towards them. "We are in dire need of Vodka." Natasha stated bluntly already sitting down in a chair.
Her eyes scanned the place; it never changed which is another thing that attracted her to this bar. It was the one thing that remained constant in her life. "I'm going to miss this." Her voice quivered slightly.
Clint easily slipped into the chair beside Natasha, propping his elbow on the solid wood. The man tried his best to ignore the gentle quiver in her voice but he knew it was there.
"Hey now," he started softly, "no sad thoughts! We're at a bar and alcohol makes all the sad things go away." The man allowed a bitter laugh to complete his sentence. It was more directed towards himself than Natasha anyway.
He placed his hand ever so gently onto her shoulder, "you won't be gone forever. You're just taking a nice vacation and every so often you'll come back here for a beer." Clint couldn't tell who he was trying to comfort more, himself or Natasha.
She closed her eyes just for a second, letting the words sink in. The way he said it made it sound like it was true but they both knew it wasn't. Maybe he had an idea though, if she thought of it as a vacation it might not be as hard as it already was. Though Natasha was never good at imagining anything other than the cruel reality she lived in all her life.
"Right, sorry I'll keep that in mind." Her hand moved onto his, giving him a reassuring squeeze before letting go. "Now I believe we have some drinking to do." Her voice now had its usual playfulness to it. Grabbing the glass that was in front of her she tipped it towards his, a silent 'cheers', before quickly downing the drink.
The crooked smiled tugged his lips upwards, "atta girl."
Only a moment after speaking, he too tipped his head back with the drink. The gentle burn of the alcohol didn't come as a surprise, not anymore.
He set the glass back onto the counter with a dull thud and a soft, satisfied sigh.
Natasha stared at the empty glasses intensely. "Another." She commanded to the bartender. Her emerald eyes turned to look at the archer, there was something she needed to know it was killing her for a long time and now seemed the perfect time to ask.
"Clint, why didn't you kill me?" There was no beating around the bush when it came to her; straightforward had always been a trait of hers. At least when it came to certain things. Nervous about what he could say, she started playing with her white skirt.
Blue eyes studied green for a moment before glancing downwards. Another sigh, though this one was heavier, made its way out.
"Nat…" he started, trying to figure out the best way to word his answer. "I-," he paused again as the memory replayed over and over in his mind and then continued speaking in a now pained voice. "I don't really know… Something told me not to, that killing you would've been the wrong choice." It was true, every fiber of his being had screamed to not do it, to put the arrow down. It was also one of the few times he had willingly gone against orders and even though he had been ripped a new one, he was happy with his choice.
His eyes glanced back up to try and read her pensive expression, his own was a mixture of feelings.
Nat. She secretly loved that nickname. It was short and sweet, but also intimate for he was the only one she allowed to call her that. Her eyes showed understanding and pain. She had often wondered many times whether she would have done the same thing. Sometimes she liked to delude herself that she would, most times she knew differently.
"Thanks, I don't think I ever really said it but thanks." She leaned slightly towards him, his scent engulfed her. A sad smile graced his face before he quickly replaced it with a hopefully happier looking expression. He didn't know how to respond to her thanks, after all, what could he say? It's was no problem? No, no words would be suitable as a response so he chose to hold his tongue.
Once again her eyes locked onto his, she wanted to memorize every word and every movement. "Another drink?" Her eyebrow quirked up at the question.
"Another drink." He affirmed. "Do you really expect me to quit after only a handful of drinks?" It was said with a soft chuckle.
Rolling her eyes she picked up her glass gracefully, yet again downing it in one gulp. "I wonder how long it would take you to get drunk, Barton." A devilish grin spread across her face. She wanted to have fun and she always got what she wanted.
He raised a brow and shook his head slightly; nothing could stop the smile this time. "Is that a challenge, Romanoff? You know I won't back down from a challenge." "That's the idea Hawk boy."
Clint knew he would probably regret this in a few hours but he didn't care and Natasha's grin only widened. She wasn't afraid to lose to Clint, but this was going to be fun. She took another drink downing it down quickly before giving him a knowing look. "Well?"
He smirked, knowing full well the consequences and that Nat would probably out drink him but he didn't care, after all tonight was supposed to be fun… sort of. The man downed his next drink before glancing at Natasha. "So should you keep count, or me?"
"I believe I should since pretty soon you won't be able to keep track of your own shoes let alone how many drinks we both have." "Well shit, I should've invested in those velcro shoes huh? Saves me all the trouble." "Don't worry; you should just worry about the trouble you're about to be in." "Ouch Nat, your words, they sting me so."
He placed his hand on his chest and gave a scoff in mock offense. The corners of his eyes crinkled up as he laughed, pushing more glasses away. Clint could handle the liquor for a while longer than most people. Picking up her next drink downing it, Natasha noticed she still felt nothing. "I believe I had about four already. You, two."
Another dull thud and another empty glass.
What had once started off as a gentle warmth was now gone. Clint knew that it'd probably take a handful of drinks to get him down and out but of course he was always willing to push his limit.
He had lost count a while ago.
Over ten glasses later, Natasha still didn't feel any different then she did with the first drink. Clint, on the other hand was rather worse for wear. She grinned at his state; it was clear who had won. There was no doubt she wouldn't but still the fact he didn't back away from the challenge amused her. "It looks like I won." She teased.
The man looked at her, his eyes glazed over. He was happy and warm and everything was funny. A dopey grin was plastered onto his face. "Y'always win," he slurred slightly. His head was pounding as he turned in his seat, trying to weigh out the options of what another drink would do. Already he knew that he had probably gone too far but really, he was too far gone to even care.
Natasha giggled slightly at the man, maybe this was her plan from the beginning. Clint being clumsy instead of his graceful poise self would surprise anyone who hasn't seen him like this.
It took all of his concentration to slip out of his seat and stand without smashing face first into the ground. "S'y'ready to go back home?" "Alright, but let me help you with that." Carefully she clasped an arm around his waist, while her other arm grabbed his to place around her shoulders. "There that's better, isn't it?"
His arm sat comfortably on the woman's shoulders as he turned to glance at Natasha, fighting against the spinning room. "Mmyea 'ankss." He leaned against her slightly, taking a few hesitant steps forward.
Anyone who walked into the bar would be greeted with the archer studying his shoes as if they were a fascinating new species of animal and the smaller woman pretty much holding him up. It was quite a sight indeed.
Natasha half dragged the man back to his room. They had received many looks and even one person offered to help her but she just pushed past them without a second thought. This wasn't the first time she had to drag her partner back to his place.
Carefully she set him down on his bed, making sure not to shift him too much. When he was finally nestled on there, she looked at him and couldn't help but smile at the goofy grin that was placed on his face. "идиот" She whispered softly.
He stared up at the Russian woman, trying not to be distracted by the comfort of his own bed. But he couldn't help it, everything felt so soft and smooth. Focus Barton, he mentally chided himself as his eyes lazily rolled to refocus on Natasha.
"Sstay..?" It was hardly above a whisper.
The facade of happiness broke down with that one word. All the times she had taken him back drunk he would just roll away and drop to sleep. Her heart plummeted, sitting down on the edge of the bed she turned away from him. "I can't do that." Her voice chocked out. "I have to go." Even though he was drunk, Clint still felt his heart drop.
The words rang true, she had to leave. It was now or never but her body willed to stay with him. Willed to spend this one last night with him, but could she really leave in the morning. She shot up from his bed. "Bye Clint."
His breath still hitched and his eyes still tracked the woman as she stood. His mind struggled to find the proper word in Russian; it was much harder to do when he was drunk. "до свидания" It was a mere whisper now as the man fought to keep his voice still. But still a light quiver could be heard.
Hearing the quiver in his voice tore her apart, it made her spare a glance his way which was a bad idea. Her breathing became heavy as she stared at him, her body started to tremble.
This is it, he thought miserably. She's leaving. The archer tried to console himself with happier thoughts, lying to himself that she would be back, that she was just taking a short break- a well deserved vacation.
But even he knew that it wasn't true.
She didn't think it would be this hard to leave him, yet she could barley make her feet shuffle towards the door.
"I can at least give you a proper goodbye I guess." Her voice shook; she didn't even bother hiding it. Walking back towards the drunk man. She bent down and placed her small arms around him. "I'll never forget you." She whispered softly in his ear. When she pulled back she placed a soft chaste kiss on his forehead.
It was a sad, crooked smile now as he wrapped his arms around her in return. The least he could do was give her a proper goody-bye hug. "Good," it came out as a breathy sigh. The drunken man began to wonder if it was possible for her to hear the rapid pounding of his heart.
"Natasha," he began, fighting to control his emotions. He wanted her to stay but he didn't want to stop her from leaving either. Besides, they were just partners- isn't that what it always boiled down to?
"спасибо."
"Пожалуйста." Her whisper was enough for her, if she said anymore she would surely break down. Letting him go, she made her way over to the door silently. This time she didn't look back as she left her partner. Only when she was far away did she let the tears fall.
The hushed click of the door shutting was lost in the chaos of his thoughts. Clint's lips turned to form a frown as he drunkenly pulled himself out of his bed to rifle through one of the nearby drawers in search of some hidden liquor.
He wasn't drunk enough. Not yet.
A/N: Told you it was gonna be shitty but hey. C'est la vie.
For you folks wondering, here's a pretty rough translation. As far as I know, good-bye and thank you are correct. But then again I speak broken Russian so writing it is a weaker point. Grazie to young writer at large for fixing some of my late night booboos.
1. I am better
2. Idiot
3. Good-bye
4. Thank you
5. You're welcome
R&R