So I'm a major Huntingbird fan. Parting Shot basically killed me. I've been meaning to write a little piece for these two dorks for a while, and I finally got around to it! Hope you enjoy.

"I just think we oughta give it another shot."

It isn't the first time she's said this, of course. She's said it many times, and will likely say it many more. Sometimes it's introduced differently, often phrased differently, but it is always accompanied by that same irresistible expression: anxious, uncertain, yet hopeful. And, deep down, he knows that this is no novelty. That this is just another mistake waiting to be made, another chapter to add to their horror story.

But he tells himself otherwise as he moves in to kiss her. He tells himself that this time will be different, this time they'll try harder, this time… things will work out.

He doesn't really believe himself, of course – he's told himself this particular lie enough that it is no longer convincing. No, they both know how this will end – just when things start to heat up, she'll turn cold, and then it will just be a matter of time until he breaks her ice and they start over again.

Maybe it's a lot of pain to put himself through, a lot of heartache for the sake of one person. But, somehow, Bobbi always makes it worth it.

So they fall together again. And, for a while, everything is perfect – they go to bed together and wake up together, they share meals and long, deep conversations, they spend time relaxing and time chatting and time watching bad TV on lazy afternoons. They laugh and they talk and they steal glances and kisses and hugs. And, for a while, it's easy to pretend that he was right – that this time, the stars just aligned for them, this time, it just stuck.

But, finally, they reach that point – the point in their relationship where, inevitably, their blissful euphoria gives way to burning malice, and their fights last long into the night, until his throat burns from shouting and her cheeks blaze with fury.

Somehow, when they're apart, they crave each other, and when they're together, they can't stand each other. Every time, they find new reasons to argue, and every time, they're both too stubborn to apologize.

He glares at her across the room, fists clenched at his sides, anger searing hotly in his chest.

"I'm walking out," he snaps. "We're done, we're over, do you hear me?"

She glares right back at him, arms crossed, jaw clenched, and doesn't answer.

"I'm walking out, alright, so don't you try and bloody stop me!"

She is silent as he heads for the door. They both know his insistence that she not try to stop him is not an order, but a plea. If she does try to stop him, if she offers any resistance, he knows that he can't stand strong; he will fall right back to her and they will start all over again.

He has nearly reached the door.

"Wait."

He stops.

He turns slowly as she crosses to where he stands, her blue-gray eyes searching his face.

"Stay a little longer," she says softly.

Theirs is not a love story. It is a story of chance meetings and first impressions and anger and lust and tension and second chances and third chances and fourth chances and giving up and moving on and then fifth chances and sixth chances. Yet they just keep coming back to each other, and sometimes he thinks they're insane.

But, somehow, in spite of their friction and their fights and their ever-present issues, something about Bobbi just feels so right. Even when he hates her, the thought of her keeps him going, keeps him sane. In his train-wreck of a life, she is the only thing that gives him any degree of stability – if nothing else, they are consistent in their inconsistency. She is the only thing that makes any sense.

Because, like it or not, she is a part of him now. A complicated and confusing part of him, maybe; a part of him that he doesn't always understand, and sometimes wishes he didn't need.

But there's no way around it: no matter how many times they fight and break up and swear each other off for good, she needs him and he needs her, so they will keep on coming back.

And maybe that's all that really matters.

(Clintasha squad: Your oneshot-of-the-month goes up tomorrow. x)