A/N: I've felt this little tale coming for a while, now. This evening it FINALLY chose to take shape. I've had some… pretty hectic times lately. And BAM, here we go! (chuckles)

DISCLAIMER: OH, PLEASE…! If I owned ANYTHING at all, we'd have a movie with just Hawkeye and Black Widow by now… (POUTS)

WARNINGS: Some language… Weirdness… Description of depression… You can see this as Clintasha, or just friendship.

Okay, before I chicken out… LET'S GO! I really hope that you'll enjoy this.

Those Nights When the Sky's Ablaze

The Clint Barton Natasha Romanoff – who was only recently Natalia Romanova – knew was loud and brash. A force of nature with no sense of self-preservation. (Which became adamantly clear when he decided to let her live and risk her not returning the courtesy.) He was a loon with an easy grin, and a soft spot for all things broken which he showed far too readily for a seasoned killer. He was… everything that she just wasn't.

Or so she thought. Until she realized that they had more in common than she'd imagined. The kind of things she wouldn't have wanted them to have in common.

A year and two months after they first met she woke up and frowned, trying to figure out what roused her. Her eyes darted around in the nearly utter darkness of the cheap motel room. Until, in approximately eight and a half seconds, it registered to her that the narrow bed on the other side of the room was empty. The door to the room's tiny balcony was closed but a hint of melted snow on the floor revealed that it'd been opened recently. There wasn't a trace left of her partner out there, either.

Something inside Natasha tingling with alarm, she slipped soundless and elegantly out of the bed. In a flash she'd changed her night-time clothes to a pair of jeans and a shirt. By the time she reached the door she'd pulled on a heavy coat, not exactly looking forward to nursing frostbites.

Natasha groaned quietly when her sharp gaze spotted the evidence of barefooted steps on snow. Really? Sometimes she really questioned the other agent's survival skills.

It didn't take long before she spotted Clint. By then she'd learned to seek from high up whenever she wanted to find the infamous Hawkeye. They'd been given a room at the hotel's top-floor. Still she had no idea how he'd managed to climb to the rooftop.

Natasha had two options. (Well, the third would've been just leaving him there. But since she sort of owed him her life, she didn't want his death of hypothermia on her conscience.) She could call out to him and risk waking the whole hotel. Which would've led to all sorts of unwanted attention. Or she could keep him company.

Mentally cursing the archer, Natasha began the perilous climb up. She did admirably well for a long time. Until her hold on the ice-cold metal slipped. She would've been sent plummeting down ungracefully if it wasn't for the large, calloused hand grabbing her wrist. Clint looked down at her with a frown. Like she was the insane one, while he was sitting up there without a coat or shoes. "What are you doing?"

Natasha arched a loudly speaking eyebrow. And enforced the impact with something that wasn't quite a glare. "Really, Barton? You're asking me that?"

Clint helped her up. As soon as she was sitting somewhat steadily, if not uncomfortably, he looked away. "I, ah…" His jawline tightened. "… just needed a moment alone."

Funny, that was usually her line. And now that she got a good look at him, Natasha realized that a lot of things were different from usual. Or maybe she just hadn't been paying enough attention before.

There was a haunted look in Clint's eyes, and it seemed like he hadn't slept properly in a while. He was pale, and visibly exhausted. His usually alert gaze seemed to see something no one else could. And whatever that something was, it was unpleasant. Bad enough to chase him into a freezing night.

Nightmares, Natasha realized in a flash. The worst kind. Those which were actually memories.

"You can stop staring, Tasha." Clint sounded tense but not snappy. He kept his gaze away from her firmly. "I'm not gonna… crack, or something. I just… need a goddamned minute." He sounded frustrated and pissed off, but not at her.

"And you decided to come out here for that minute?" Natasha sounded nauseatingly worried. And found that she didn't mind much. "In case you haven't noticed, it's freezing."

Clint shrugged. "'s okay", he muttered, his mind drifting away with his thoughts. "At least it's quiet, here. And the cold makes it easy to not think about… other stuff."

Natasha had no idea what to say to that. And really, it didn't seem like Clint expected a verbal response. It was the kind of silent understanding she'd never experienced with anyone before.

Tonight was one of the bad nights.

Slowly, knowing that in his current state of mind the Hawk wouldn't have approved of rapid movements, Natasha wrapped her coat the best as she could around them both. He felt ice-cold but it was something other than the temperature which made him shudder as soon as she touched him. "Idiot", she hissed barely audibly. Then grabbed one of his almost frosty hands to hers, and began to rub it firmly to keep the blood flowing.

Tonight was one of the bad nights. She wondered how many of those she'd missed, but decided that she'd be there for him now. Because, she was still new to the whole concept, but… Wasn't that what partners did? (At least, by some magic, Clint always awaited with tea and stupid, ancient romantic dramas whenever she had a bad night.) Not that she was much of a fan of the whole, mushy partner-thing.

Natasha's eyes rose to meet the direction her friend was staring at. There, on a pitch-black sky, the most beautiful northern lights she'd ever seen danced. Sang their own sad, barely audible song. (Or maybe it was all in her head.) It almost looked like the sky was in flames. When eventually a few tears rolled down Clint's cheeks, shining like diamonds, Natasha pretended that she didn't notice. Only took a firmer hold of his hand.

Tonight was a bad night. But Clint would be up and fighting in the morning, that one little bit stronger. Natasha had faced enough nights like this to know.

And the next time there was a night when the sky was ablaze, she was already waiting for him.

End

A/N: That… spilled out FAR FASTER than I would've EVER expected. Oh, those two…! It's so good that they found each other, isn't it?

SO, folks… The word is now yours! Was that ANY good, AT ALL? PLEASE, do drop a word or two to the lovely box below!

THANK YOU, so much, for reading this strange little fic! And whoever knows. Maybe I'll see you again one day.

Take care, folks – of yourselves, and all the Clints and Natashas out there!