AN I don't own Marvel or any of its characters!
Natasha finally caved and asked Clint about the clothespin he always carried around, sometimes in his pack or with his scope but most often in his pocket. He smiled at first, coyly, like he wasn't planning on telling her. Truthfully, he hadn't decided yet. She undoubtedly had pieced together that it wasn't sentimental because he'd lost or used the clothespin on assignments before and always just replaced it with a new one from the nearest Walmart, throwing the rest into a donation bin somewhere. He only needed the one. But he knew she had to have been thinking about it for a while now turning it over in her mind and trying to think of it from a new perspective. she was asking though which meant she really didn't know. Semi-consciously, he fingered the clothespin in his pocket, running his finger down the seam until it caught on the metal hinge.
"Why do you think?" He finally settled on and asked. She gave him an exasperated sigh.
"I don't know practicality maybe? Some life lesson you learned as a kid? If I knew I wouldn't be asking Clint." He smiled, despite himself, and took a seat on the cement while she took the scope to watch for a bit. Still she kept pushing.
"Just because I can't see you doesn't mean I didn't notice you weren't answering." He had to chuckle under his breath. She was always like that-petulant and demanding but in a good way that said she didn't take shit from anyone. Out of habit, he pulled out the clothespin and rolled it in his hands.
"Well, you know what a clothespin is, right? What it does?" She put her hand on her hip even if she didn't look away from the scope.
"It pins clothes?" He laughed.
"Yes, it does, but there's more. Call me crazy and maybe it comes from the years in the circus watching clothes flap on a line but… have you ever tried to wash clothes on a line without clothespins? It works for a bit, while the clothes are wet and heavy or while the weather is calm, but give it time and they'll start flying off into the dirt and trees like banshees. That was always how I felt as a kid in the circus, like a piece of clothing on a line, just hanging there because I had enough fear and deadlines weighing me down. I always thought the day would come where it all faded just enough for that right gust of wind to catch me and carry me away." Natasha stared at him like he was insane.
"You're not making a lot of sense." He rolled his eyes and gestured to the scope.
"Keep watching, Tash. I'm getting to the point. Anyways, before I was so rudely interrupted," He paused so she could feel his teasing glare. "It sounds silly I know but as things got worse and worse I held on to that. The idea that one day something would come and whisk me away from that clothesline I was stuck to. I thought someday, something would save me from that horrible reality. But I got out and joined the agency and nothing really changed. The line was different but I still felt trapped, like I was both stuck and barely holding on at the same time. I tried a lot of things to try to anchor myself from yoga and meditation to alcohol and self harm. Nothing worked." He shrugged, running his thumb over the cheap wood and clicking it a few times.
"But then I met you. The line hasn't changed but I felt… different. Like letting go of all that pain and anger didn't mean I would slip away or lose my grip on reality. Slowly, it let things go. Little things are first and then bigger until there was hardly anything to weigh me down. I should have been caught by a reckless breeze or been carried off into nothingness but I stayed, firm on that line. It took me a long time to realize why I could still hang on to reality without all that weight." He hesitated, turning the clothespin over in his hands until Natasha grew impatient and cast him a look from behind the scope.
"it was you, Tash. While I wasn't looking you had come up and slipped your hands in mine and tugged me back to earth. All that time I wasn't paying attention, worrying do much about losing the weight and flying out of control, I didn't notice that someone had clipped clothespins along the line, holding me down. Something that let me let go of the weight without losing myself or reality. A clothespin…" He trailed off again, smiling at the little mechanism in his hand.
"You were my clothespin, Tash. I carry it to remind myself that you're here, holding me in reality, and that it isn't bad to let the heavy things go. To remind myself that I don't need the weight. That I have you."
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