The Strongest Link, an avengers fanfic

The Strongest Link

Summary: He barked a laugh. "Natasha, come on. You think some insults from stupid, stupider, and so forth is going to tick me off? You know I have thicker skin than that."

"I know you do. That's why I didn't second guess the brush offs in retaliation, until I realized it made sense when I compare it to your behavior lately. The extended lab times, the staying back when we all go on a run, that /extra/ persistence."

Rating: T

Pairing: Clintasha [Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff]

AN: This hit me /immediately/ after episode 4, because it was a Clint-centered episode and I felt that his desire to work on his arrows and perfect them came from a place of insecurity, rather than just plot placement. Plus, his little conversation with Natasha about her 'thinking' about criticizing his experimental arrow just further fed my theory, and I'm a sucker for anything that helps add to my ever-growing list of Avengers Assemble one-shots.

I have two more currently in the works, about at least half or two-thirds the way done for them both. /Those/ are set in Season 2, I just couldn't watch this episode and /not/ get this typed out before my muse vanished for it. I'm hopping all over the place in terms of timeline, but eventually I'll have enough of them out where I'll make an ordered list of how to read them in order.

I /love/ Avengers Assemble and with my seemingly /not/ fading muse to write for it quite yet, there should be PLENTY more one-shots to come, even if I don't get a lot of reviews for them!

Hope you enjoy! Set immediately after Season 3, Episode 4 "Under Siege". And if you haven't, check out my two other Avengers Assemble one-shots: "Can You Hold Me" and "The Costume Makes the Man"!

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"You're in here way too often, lately." And he took hearing that statement as a /bad/ sign when he was attempting to repair his destroyed noise canceling arrowhead. Well, bad for two reasons - also because he didn't like being chastised any more than the next guy.

But he figured he was in for it after he'd been late in handling the Masters of Evil anyway, as well as letting the Tower get a little taken over by them. Or maybe it was because they'd broken into her room, too, and taken some tech [although not getting away with it because they were still stupid, led by Zemo or not]. Talk about squandered potential - it was cringeworthy.

Clint glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Natasha's disapproving look for a few seconds. She was the one of the only ones who could get into his room without a proper, alerted override - having the code and all - so naturally, she had the same access to his connected little mini-lab/supply closet. Not like she wasn't in here often, anyway, but that was behind closed doors information.

He was a /lucky/ guy.

"Yeah, well, if my arrowheads didn't keep getting /destroyed/, I wouldn't have to keep reworking it. I swear, I haven't had a stability issue with an arrowhead like this for a long time; this noise canceling one is really ticking me." He tapped at the rounded head. "Least I don't have screaming Mimi attempting to shatter it anymore, or in this case, any of the band of idiots."

He continued fiddling with it half-heartedly, but he knew he was in for something when Natasha peered down at his handiwork, leaning over the back of his chair, face next to his. "What's with the sudden persistence?" He opened his mouth to blow off the suggestion, but her hardened stare told otherwise. "I would have asked earlier, but I didn't want to put you on the spot in front of the team." Nice to know she had some discretion; real endearing.

Almost out of defiance, Clint leant back in his chair, propping his legs up on his work table and making an outward gesture with his arms. She stood up straightly almost immediately. "Just working on some arrowheads, contributing to the team, I don't see how that's - "

"That was oddly easier to get out of you than I expected." Natasha folded her arms, an amused smirk playing at the side of her face.

Wait, what?

He propelled himself around with a leg, letting his feet lay on the floor as he faced her. "/What/ was easier to get out of me than expected?"

"Contribution." She replied simply, as if it were obvious.

He arched an eyebrow, waving his hands in mock-relent. "Really earth-shattering. Seriously, what're you playing at? You're doing the whole mysterious Widow thing and normally, I wouldn't mind entertaining it, but after the day I've had? Not in the mood."

Natasha made a gesture of rolling her eyes specifically, before looking towards him with a hard stare. "I watched the security tapes from today. I wanted to make sure nothing /critical/ had been taken and I wanted to see if Zemo revealed anything in his arrogant musings." His stare remained confused. "The continual jabs about being the Avengers' weakest link ring any bells?"

He barked a laugh. "Natasha, come on. You think some insults from stupid, stupider, and so forth is going to tick me off? You know I have thicker skin than that."

"There's no correlation whatsoever with what you're saying. For being the Black Widow, I think your perceptiveness is a /little/ off kilter lately. Seriously, I am perfectly - "

"You're a really bad liar." His eyebrows knit together in irritation.

"You're /really/ good at interrupting people." He retorted, swiveling back around to repick up work on the arrow, because she was being irritating at the moment. Seriously, was she even listening to a single word that was coming out of his mouth?

He didn't /have/ insecurities. He was all confidence and talent. Nothing he had now was something he was /given/, he'd acquired this through years of fine-tuning his skills, on and off the field. No, he didn't have some hammer or ability to channel lightning, or some metal body to hide in, or even some radioactively effected body to take down hard heads, but he did have -

Shit. She was right.

He worried at his lower lip a bit with his teeth. No, he was definitely not going to tell her that.

There were a lot of dangerous things in the world, but telling the Black Widow that she was right was asking for trouble. It was basically ceding and in their competitive limbo, he preferred avoiding that.

Natasha exhaled discreetly, walking closer and instead choosing to lean against a portion of the work bench that wasn't cover in the bits and pieces of metal, pushing aside any of the tools invading her new spot. "What about our conversation earlier?"

"Which one?" He asked without looking up, a bite to his tone.

Her face softened ever so slightly, in that way it did around him, and if he wasn't annoyed at her at the moment, he probably would have teased her about it [he liked to when they were alone], but at the moment - he just found it more patronizing than anything. Definitely shouldn't have looked up.

"The one on the field, when your arrow rattled the ground. I didn't even say anything about your arrow, and yet you got defensive anyway. That didn't come out of no where."

He paused and set the arrow aside, crossing his arms and turning to finally look at her. "I think you forget that I can read you /really/ well after all of these years, Natasha. You judging my work isn't exactly some kind of rarity."

"So this is about me criticizing you?" She reiterated with a raised eyebrow.

"What?! No! When did I say it was?"

"You didn't have to /say/ it, you've showed it." She shifted slightly. "Normally you don't exactly have a problem with me staying the night. As I recall, you're usually the one who suggests it." And she wasn't going to say she took personal offense to it, but she had - slightly.

She supposed she'd just gotten too used to it. She'd slept fine in her own individual room, that wasn't the issue [even if she much preferred sleep in his presence] - it had just been an inconsistency that needed questioning.

Fine, she may have had a small point. "Look, you've already been complaining the past few weeks that the place is a mess and after the Masters of Stupidity got in here, it was even worse, so I was saving myself the extra complaints." He swore it /sounded/ convincing, but she had this way of staring right into his mind or some shit, because even he didn't one hundred percent believe that one.

"You've been distant."

"You're /always/ distant." And he knew he said that just because she was digging up too much of his personal thoughts, so a low blow was definitely the way to get her to quit, but she saw through /that/ too. That didn't mean he wasn't apologetic for the brief flash of hurt on her face. No, that he was /really/ apologetic for. "Natasha," He started, but per usual, she didn't let him get anywhere with it.

"Taking out your aggravation with yourself on the one person who's caring enough to try to figure out what's wrong with you doesn't seem like the best idea, to me." And now she had an edge in /her/ tone, too. Great - he'd pissed her off.

He leaned back further in his chair, draping his hands in his lap and staring up at the ceiling. He was a bucket of exasperation, because /again/, she'd figured him out. Sometimes it was endearing, you know, to have someone who knew you /that/ well. The rest of the time? It was just plain irritating.

"You can talk to me, you know." Natasha tried again, softer this time.

"I know." He replied immediately, sighing heavily. "It's just - annoying. I'm not usually like this."

She shrugged, still watching him. "We all have our insecurities."

He sat up slightly, raising an eyebrow at her. "We?"

She smirked wryly at his catch. "Yes, /we/."

Clint immediately jerked forward, clutching at one of the arm rests with a disbelieving look. "You're not /seriously/ trying to pull the buddy angle on me, are you?"

Part of her wanted to say she /was/, because half of her preferred harboring any insecurities deep deep down, because the Black Widow reputation didn't include insecurities. But the other half of her, the part that cared for him and wanted to make him feel less alone, just wouldn't let her /not/ cough it up.

Regardless, he came to his own conclusion.

He gaped at her. "You're pulling the buddy angle on me! Natasha, come on!" He got his feet, suddenly a /hell/ of a lot more annoyed at her than he was before, fully intending on leaving, when her hand reached out and grasped his wrist, wrenching him back with a hearty pull. He cursed under his breath, rolling his shoulder and rubbing at his bicep with his opposite hand. "Easy, would you? Sheesh. I don't need to dislocate anything on /top/ of what's already happened today because my girlfriend has way too much strength for her own good."

Normally, she'd correct him for the use of terminology, because if he got too used to saying it in private, he'd slip up in public - but she didn't think she needed to do that to him. Not right now, at least.

"I'm serious, Clint."

"Serious about ripping my shoulder out of its socket? Gee thanks, Natasha."

The gaze he got in response was blood curdling. "You know what I mean."

Clint stood in front of her, arms crossed. If she was being truthful, he'd like to hear this oh-so-large insecurity she'd been harboring from him for so long. "Oh yeah? Prove it. What is it, then? Right now. No thinking about it, or else I'll know you're lying."

Her jaw tensed. Well, he was just giving her plenty of options, now wasn't he?

"You're not the only one who feels pointless, sometimes." He looked at her like she'd morphed into the Natasha equivalent of the Hulk. "I'm /serious/, Clint. I'm not exactly the powerhouse of the team. I'm successful because I'm forced to think outside of the box rather than to react with my brawn and I excel in /that/. You've seen where I have my own limitations and they're not exactly complicated."

She could recall a good handful of times where she'd been trapped and needed help, and as much as that shouldn't bother her, it still did. She'd been a one woman army for most of her life [with the exception of her SHIELD work and her partnership with Clint], and she'd always imbedded the motto of 'you have to save yourself' deeply in her head.

She couldn't say it didn't take a chip out of her pride to /need/ that coverage. It was getting better now, her adaptation skills long surviving the change to a team environment, but it still made her think. That she couldn't help.

Regardless, Clint remained skeptical. "I /know/ you, Natasha, and that kind of shit doesn't get to you."

"No, Clint. It /does/." She just was a hell of a lot better at hiding it than him. "Just because I don't disappear into my room to brood, doesn't mean I don't have my own personal problems. I'm still human." She deadpanned in reminder.

Sometimes she couldn't blame him for assuming she was just all confidence, skill, and had none of the second-guessing. Sometimes, she even found it flattering that he held her to that kind of a standard.

But where it bothered her, was when he'd seen her at her worst, and even if it'd been a long time since then - her minute moments of vulnerability were still there, yet he could forget. When she needed his hold or the bodily evidence that he was still alright, that the world was still intact, that they'd managed to save the day /again/.

She was human, that's where she was exploited; in every feeling, in every not-meta capability. It could /all/ be stolen away and that was where her real weakness laid.

The archer sighed and sank back into his chair, rolling it a foot away on impact. He rest his chin on top of his knuckles, gaze flicking hesitantly back to hers. "S'pose I'm being insensitive, huh?"

Her stare lightened only slightly, but enough to put him more at ease for putting his bow in his mouth. "This isn't about that. It's about /you/ and your ridiculous, sudden need to prove yourself. It's going to get you killed. You don't have /anything/ to prove, Clint. You're to blame for a lot of our victories because you see things Asgardians and super geniuses don't. You see things /I/ don't see; that's your line of expertise."

But she stopped suddenly, fixating on the floor as she thought. "Do you remember the cruise where we went undercover?"

"When you kissed me in public and surprised the shit out of me? How could I forget?" His lip quirked upward fondly.

She chuckled, but continued. "And you realized I was going to get gassed before I did?"

"Your first mistake in years, super spy." He teased.

"Or when you took down Giganto single-handedly?"

No, he was putting together her game. "Natasha, I get what you're doing, but - "

"Or today, even? Defending the tower? Fine, they came in and made off with a small piece of Tony's tech, but you evaded Zemo shoeless and bowless." A small amount of amusement playing into the recollection. "That's pretty Hulk-like to me."

He opened his mouth, but he just was out of talking passes for the day, it seemed. Not that he really had a lot to say when she was suddenly sat on his lap, hands on either side of his headrest. He swore his heart was beating just /that/ much more quickly and he should have been embarrassed by the affect she still had on him /this/ far into their little game, but he wasn't. Not right now, at least.

"What I'm saying is that despite my criticism, despite my jabs, my jokes, everything. I am nothing short of /certain/ that you are a commodity. If anything, you're one of the strongest links for the Avengers and you, Clint Barton, do not need to prove that to /anyone/." She concluded with a bidding look that would made normal men quiver, but Clint? He just smiled.

His hands rose from the armrests to circle around her waist, loosely balancing her. He had to admit - she was convincing. Only Natasha would be able to make him feel foolish. She just had this gift; perhaps that was her super power.

"I think I'm starting to see where those Ambassador-like qualities came from," He remarked, staring up at her with the fragments of a smirk etching itself on his face. "Because if you're this good at talking people up, I'd give you the control to my power grid any time."

Her brows knitted together. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Hey, hey, I'm not criticizing." He insisted, tracing faint, lazy circles on her uniformed back. "Just admiring, a little." Glancing down slightly, he added, "Thank you - for that. Perceptive or not, sometimes my judgment gets a little - cloudy. Wouldn't be the first time you've had to knock some sense into me."

She shrugged, her lips folding upwards mischievously. "What can I say? That's what /partners/ are for."

He narrowed his eyes, but only playfully. She was trying to get a rise out of him - maybe he'd let her, this once. He leaned forward, nose-to-nose. "Partners, huh?"

Her hands dropped to instead slide around his neck, smug as ever. "That's it."

"I heard partners are for a /lot/ of things, actually." His lips brushing against the corner of her mouth, faint.

Clint /knew/ he wasn't imagining it when her voice got that much deeper. "Oh really?"

His smirk couldn't be helped. "Really." And made every last effort to entirely shut her up.

It was several minutes later when the echo of Friday came over his room's personal loud speaker, where a few layers of clothing may or may not have been shed, and two pairs of lips may or may not have been /very/ very occupied.

Clint could feel Natasha's lips distinctly trailing down his neck when he first heard the AI. "Mr. Barton, the world is not ending, but it would seem that Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the lab."

He threaded a few fingers through her red locks, humming in only mild irritation. "Yeah? Well make sure to bother me when it does."

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AN: Hope you enjoyed! And if you did, by all means, please review or drop me a fave/follow! I'll be writing out a lot more of these!

Reviews are my life; don't kill me!