Blinded By You
Summary: His first thought had been to excitedly announce this newfound revelation to Natasha, but that was a bit difficult when she was /still/ nowhere to be found. So instead of going to her, he announced it to his equally tired teammates. He had to admit, after receiving a less than enthusiastic response, his thoughts had crept back to her. Sight, check. Widow's location? Not a check.
Rating: T
Pairing: Clintasha [Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff]
AN: So, I decided to wrap up a good deal of my unfinished one-shots today and this was one of the many on the list. I have a whole section of them in my notes. I'm just in a writing mood, today, so here they are.
This one was pretty cute, so I had to finish it. Plus, I like my titles on the most of these, because they're particularly fitting with what happened in the episode. And I just have an extreme obsession when it comes to Clintasha in any form, but especially when it comes to the Avengers Assemble series.
This is set during and after the season 1 finale, because I just /loved/ the constant mentions of Clint asking where Natasha was. Everyone else who asked, asked about once, but he kept asking during the firefight and then he asked afterward, and I just cry.
Enjoy!
[OoOoOoO]
There had really been two things that were in the forefront of Clint's mind: his sudden blindness [which was natural, considering he was an archer that relied heavily on his sight] and also the location of Natasha. Ever since she and MODOK had pulled the whole disappearing act, he'd worried about her. She was human, much like him, and too susceptible to attacks. MODOK wasn't a force to be reckoned with in that department, regardless of Natasha's overwhelming skill set. Someone with MODOK's range of power was a weakness that rendered them all a little useless.
He hadn't been so sure that a collaboration could have been in the works.
Regardless, the first time he'd heard her voice, well, he couldn't say he was beyond relief, because he wasn't. He didn't know when she'd become more important than his sight [or really anything], but at this point - she had. It was like there was something empty about not having her around him. He could function without her, like when she too often decided to pull her SHIELD disappearing acts, but he didn't want to. They were a well-oiled machine; they were partners, training buddies, just about every important role in the other's life.
The last thing he needed was something to happen to her.
Upon returning to the tower, drunk on victory and also exhausted [despite the fact Red Skull was still very much out there], his vision had come flooding back and he'd been overwhelmed. Now it was all taken care of: Natasha was okay and so was his vision.
His first thought had been to excitedly announce this newfound revelation to Natasha, but that was a bit difficult when she was /still/ nowhere to be found. Some top-secret SHIELD facility and fine, whatever, she didn't need to tell him. It was against the rules, considering he'd long resigned from his SHIELD connections. Don't get him wrong, him and Fury weren't feuding frienemies and the long-developed trust was still there, but that hardly included sensitive intel and the location of safe houses. It was just one of the downsides to inactivity.
So instead of going to her, he announced it to his equally tired teammates. He had to admit, after receiving a less than enthusiastic response, his thoughts had crept back to her. Sight, check. Widow's location? Not a check.
It still bothered him, this distance, and he was pretty sure in a way, it bothered her, too. Not for the same reasons - but still for /a/ reason.
For him, it was the divided allegiance and the lack of commitment to the team.
For her, it was probably the loss of an official partner, which he couldn't deem unfair. She'd never been a team player, but for some reason, they'd clicked and had been the best Strike Team ever formed by SHIELD. Now she was partner-less [generally] and it wasn't something to celebrate.
Despite whatever either of them said or admitted, they were better off together.
After the confirmation of the /still/ zero clues on the location of Natasha, he'd retired to his room. What was the point of sitting up when the rest of the team was exhausted and less than avid in the conversational department? He'd just wait for Natasha and cross his fingers she'd either come back to the tower, or at least make an effort to contact him.
He hated feeling like some desperate lap dog waiting for her, loyal as ever, but he couldn't shake it. He liked her physical presence. Hell, when she was off on SHIELD missions, he was grateful for the little messages she'd get to him. He couldn't exactly return the effort [top-secret location and all, unless of course she'd gotten the go ahead or desire to include him personally], but she knew he would have if he could. That was what counted.
This was just how they worked. Words weren't a huge thing - actions were. He supposed it was just a spy thing - words were more distrusting. With actions, you could tell where the intentions lied. Natasha happened to have a great gut instinct that Clint had trusted on a variety of occasions. And with how they'd been trained, it was easy to see through facades - they knew the signs. Why? Because for years they both had had to form them, and really, they still were.
And as a secondary reason, frankly, after the double agent debacle that had nearly torn them apart, actions settled them both a hell of a lot more.
Besides, words were too emotional and hard to come by, and neither of them were the feelsy type. It came in actions. The occasional touch of a shoulder, the reassuring brush of an arm, the drape of an arm in bed, the head on a shoulder; it was mostly physical, material affection. But he couldn't say their whole communication with just looks and sometimes even less involved a lot of physical things.
It was a connection, he knew that much. And he wouldn't trade that for anything else. Even as he laid in his bed, rolled on his side, head buried in the pillow, staring longingly at the empty space beside him.
Obviously this was dangerous - it always had been. Them hiding it as well as they did made it safer, but not by much. Some would argue that a best friend was just as important as a significant other. Clint would argue that they were both important, especially if they were both the same person.
It was just difficult - and always had been. He took what he could get it and she gave what she could - it was systematically complicated. But did it secure a good amount of longevity? You're damn right it did.
At some point while buried in his thoughts, his tired, renewed eyes managed to slide shut and he drifted. Staying awake, waiting for someone who probably wouldn't come at all, well - that was definitely on the back burner.
He'd see her tomorrow.
[OoOoOoO]
She wasn't going to lie to herself - she was better than that. When the world was in question, she knew herself best and at the moment, she could easily figure out what the dreaded twitch in her fingers meant.
It had to do with him. It always did. That was the problem, and also why separation and a double life was sometimes /very/ very necessary. She was beyond compromised and she couldn't forget it. Distractions were generally futile; he was still crouched, waiting as patiently as he always was, in the furthest depths of her mind - springing up at the most inconvenient moments.
The mission was always her priority - she sometimes had to force herself from physically being concerned when he was in harm's way - and that's how it had been. She'd taken on MODOK and done what she needed to.
But that didn't mean she had been unaware that he'd been blind.
That didn't mean she hadn't wanted to beat the red out of Skull's face when he'd done it.
And that certainly didn't mean that she didn't want to be with him right now, holding him close and basking in the fact they'd survived another day, because this life was invigorating and dangerous and she'd have it no other way, but living this life had always taught her to cherish what you had. When shit was interchangeable in a second, you had to be - and she was.
Natasha shook her head and scoped her tired eyes over the screen in front of her. She was competent longer than most people were when tired, but even these late hours, piled on top of the already long day they'd had, was having its effect on her; she was only human, after all.
She swiped to clear the screen and sighed; she needed to go home.
Had she really just thought that? Considering somewhere - home? Or worse off, was it someone?
She really needed a nap.
[OoOoOoO]
It took a couple hours, but she'd finally relocated from the ambiguous SHIELD facility and arrived at the Avengers' tower. Everyone was long asleep, given she'd rolled in past midnight, but it was fine. She hadn't been looking for a welcome party.
She disappeared into her room to discard her catsuit, locking up her safety belt and gauntlets. Her ass was officially dragging and all she needed was a long night of sleep - just not here. Not tonight.
Quietly, after momentarily disabling surveillance, she entered the code to Clint's quarters. No one had found out yet about their nightly rendezvous and she'd rather keep it that way, otherwise there would no doubt be an onslaught of questions they wouldn't want to answer and believe her, she never acknowledged questions unless she wanted to provide the answers.
In this case, she very much did not.
A rare warm smile arose on her lips as she stared at the utterly exhausted, sleeping form of Clint Barton. But that wasn't the only thing that made her heart clench - adding to it, was the way his arm was draped over her empty side.
He never was any good at light sleeping - it was probably more beneficial to him than her that they'd begun sharing the same bed from time to time, but she didn't mind. She definitely got her own benefits.
But she figured she may as well teach him a lesson about deep sleeping, so she back flipped gracefully, only to land straddling his torso. His spy instincts hadn't faded entirely, because the second her weight had settled on him, his eyes had snapped open and his fists flew to attempt to make brutal, unforgiving contact with her face. Luckily for her, she'd prepared for the reaction and launched out her own hands to take ahold of his wrists, effectively pinning his wrists despite the bulk advantage. She had full coherency on his side, he only had half.
"Natasha," He uttered sleepily in recognition, his lips curving upwards in the goofy way she'd grown to adore.
She didn't bother answering the sleepy archer, arching her neck down instead and claiming his lips for a searing kiss, figuring that kind of greeting would do the talking for her.
His lips were soft and welcoming, and she could just detect the overwhelming affection and relief in it. She couldn't say she didn't return the affection and relief, because near-death experiences always gave them a little shock, especially when they were split up.
He ran his hands through her red locks, gripping lightly and prying his lips back, his now fully open eyes roaming over her face. "Didn't think I'd be able to see your face again." He mumbled, grogginess evident in his tone. Natasha had a strong feeling he wouldn't have said that had he been just a little more coherent, but she was glad he did. That familiar clench in her heart came right back tenfold.
"I heard about that," She frowned. "Temporary blindness?"
"Emphasis on the temporary, at least." He retorted, stroking some fingers lazily through her hair. "Where were you?" Her lips parted to answer, before he added, "And don't say it's classified. If I hear that word one more time today, I might not wake back up."
Her green eyes lit up with amusement. Once again, she made a move to answer, but he stopped her. "And don't just say a super-secret SHIELD facility either, because I've heard that one just as - " She pressed a finger to his lips firmly, silencing his requests.
"You're not giving me time to say /anything/, let alone either of those." She replied sharply, but the amusement was still there.
"Fair enough." He mumbled against her finger, finding the dignity to look sheepish.
"I was outside of Cleveland. MODOK beamed me out with him and I called in some backup operatives - can't be too careful." Her eyes focused on his. "Speaking of careful, be more careful next time. No one needs you /permanently/ blind."
He lifted his hand to grasp at her finger, lifting it from his lips. "It wasn't exactly my first choice, either, but Skull was working on hindering us and it worked. Cap's shield got sliced and diced, Hulk lost control, etcetera." He shrugged. "He got my eyes." He raised an eyebrow. "Wonder what he would have done to you." She was a walking weapon - stealing her gauntlets would barely deter her.
"Not even going to entertain that thought." The last thing she needed was some more focus on her weaknesses - she already had one large and obnoxious one laying beneath her.
"Good call," He grunted, looking up at her hopefully. "Mind getting off me? Bruised ribs." It was always a rib injury, he swore. Everywhere else was unscathed minus a few scratches and bruises scattered, but the damn ribs always took the beating. He could probably see if Tony had some stronger abdominal patting - it'd probably be better in the long run.
Her face contorted sympathetically and she was off of him immediately, sliding into her side of the bed in one turnover. "You took quite the beating today."
Clint arched off of the mattress, inhaling and letting it a grunt. "Tell me about it." He resettled on his back and spread out an arm, waiting for the familiar weight of the spider to settle against his chest, but it didn't come. He turned his head in confusion. "Something wrong?" After a day like today, he could definitely use some normalcy and her not providing it was less than fantastic.
She worried her lip between her teeth. "No, just a long day."
"Then c'mere." He beckoned, wiggling a few fingers. "I'd like to get back to sleep. It wasn't easy to fall asleep in an empty bed."
"You looked pretty out of it for someone who had supposed difficulty with it."
"Well, fine." He relented. "It was easy /today/, but definitely not preferable."
Her eyebrows shot up. "What /are/ we doing?"
Oh no. Here they went. She was doing the whole pull away thing she attempted when things got a little rough in the field. It was her thing after near-death experiences. He couldn't blame her when it came to her past, holding on to too much meant more to lose and they'd been over that. "Hey, hey, you're doing that thing again. That thing where you question our - thing and try to push me away. Yeah, not having that."
"I'm serious, Clint."
"That's the bad part." He rolled onto his side, facing her calmly. "Fact: this system is working for us. Would I like something a little more - public? Maybe. But this is the hand we're dealt, so I can deal. Another fact: we nearly all got our asses handed to us today, and yeah, it was pretty scary to think that we were going to lose anyone, but you know how this game works. We don't exactly deal in street robberies all week, it's dangerous, sacrificial stuff, but so are all of your super spy missions, which most of the time you fly /solo/ with, mind you. You know the game, Natasha." His eyes searched her face expectantly, trying to see if any of his words were getting anywhere, even if he continued anyway. "Sure, I was worried about you and you were worried about me too, probably, but - "
"I was perfectly capable of - "
"I /know/." He cut her off sharply, gaze fierce. He didn't need to see her get defensive over some worry. Today was scary - it was bigger than them, especially them. They were humans, not demigods or radioactively altered humans, or even some big brains hiding behind some advanced, protective tech. They were just two very skilled human beings. "That doesn't say shit to my worry, considering the fact you were silent for a solid hour without so much as a location update." He hadn't let it show too much on the outside, but on the inside - it'd worried him raw.
She was silent.
Clint exhaled. "Look, whatever we /actually/ have going on here, whatever this is, you and I both know that attempting to cut the ties won't do shit." And he was right. "And I don't /want/ to cut the ties, and I'm pretty sure you don't either. So let's just keep doing what we're doing." He wasn't hurt by her worries, if anything, he was flattered enough to be included in them.
Natasha swallowed carefully. "And if something happens? Then what?" This was a dangerous game.
"We'll just have to play it by ear." He reached out and stroked a hand along her side, trying to ease her rigid body down to a more comfortable position. She was too taut - it reminded him more of a battle pose than what you'd have in bed. "The job's about adapting, right? All I know is that I'd rather be with you in - some way, shape, or form than not at all. We could use it when we come home after days like today."
She knew he had a point. Nothing would ever be better than this and she wasn't just speaking from a vaguely emotional standpoint. They were both putting their lives on the line every day for the sake of humanity. Where was the room for that picket fence, office cubicle, normal Nancy lifestyle?
But still, days like today gave them both that vague impression of what it would be like to endure that bit of permanent separation, and it wasn't pretty. It never was.
She nodded at his words and relaxed at his touch. Through his gentle ministrations, he coaxed her closer, her body wiggling just to near and settle against his side. Her head nudged upwards until it was set on his chest and his arm tightened around her, immediately eased by the weight.
It was silent for a few minutes before Clint broke it. "But seriously though, you have to get better about telling us where you are, and by us, I mostly mean me. Especially when you decide to hitch a ride with MODOK, of all people."
"We needed him; he ended up being instrumental anyway."
"That's not the point I'm trying to make."
They were bathed in silence once more.
"Fine, I can work on it."
He brushed his lips against the top of her head. "All I ask." But he didn't receive much of a response afterwards. She didn't need to give one, anyway. She was tired - they both needed sleep. His had only been broken for her, which was fine.
He craned his head to the side, staring down at her sleepy face. It was easily the most relaxed he ever saw her. The bonus was it happened mostly when she was with him. He felt privileged.
He also felt privileged he could internalize all of this without her seeing through him, or she'd shy away.
He loved her too much. Not that he would ever tell her that. Not that he would ever tell her /any/ of how he truly felt.
Truth was, he was blinded by her - consumed by her. Just about all of that poetic, Romeo and Juliet bullshit. But she didn't have to know.
This? This was fine.
And when he glanced down at her, stealing another look at her peaceful face, he knew he was right.
He slept easy.
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AN: Hope you enjoyed the read!
Reviews are my life; don't kill me!