He shows up on her floor the night Phil makes his return from the dead. He's shaking but he tries to compose himself when it is not Natasha who answers but rather Bruce.
The doctor stares at him and then his shoulders set, "What can I do for you Clint?"
The man begins to snarl at the tone, snapping, "I didn't come to see you."
Bruce almost riles back, only pausing at the hand on his back. Natasha slides in front of him but her hand stays holding to him. She stares at Clint calmly, silently as he continues to shake slightly.
"Come in." She pushes Bruce back and Clint walks in, controlled steps taking him to the couch and he sits down hard.
Natasha looks at Bruce, sees the gleam in his eyes. She smiles slightly and he sees the strain in her lips. She leans up, kisses his cheek and whispers in his ear.
"I know. I know, I do. But, trust me, he needs me right now."
"After everything, he doesn't deserve you."
She smirks, "He's not Hawkeye right now. He's hardly even Clint. Just…how about dinner?"
He watches her closely, knows he can hear it all from the kitchen. His eyes flicker to Clint shaking and he nods, calling softly, "Tea, Barton?"
The man jumps, flinches and blinks hard. He winces at his reaction and merely nods once. His eyes never settle on them so Natasha squeezes Bruce's hand and strides to the couch.
As soon as she settles Bruce watches Clint melt into her, head going to her lap and pressing into her stomach and he clutches onto her, shaking so hard Natasha begins to move with him. Bruce almost protests but she looks pointedly to the kitchen and he moves.
Clint's sob makes him falter but he goes on anyway.
Natasha's voice breaks the silence. "Talk to me sweetheart."
Bruce winces at that and Natasha pretends not to notice.
"Tash, oh god, Tash," she strokes fingers through his hair and tuts at him in a manner meant to soothe. He rolls to his back just barely and looks at her, "I know I don't deserve this and I'm so fucking sorry Tash but I can't and my chest feels like it-" he chokes and she leans her head down to press forehead to forehead to him.
"Phil's back, sweetheart. He's back and you're here."
Clint bites his lip hard and then whispers, "He lied to me. Fury too. I wouldn't leave after the debriefing, I wouldn't…turns out Fury took the heat. Phil made the call not to tell me."
Natasha sighs, "I know how hard this has been-"
"Do you?" his voice is accusing.
She pauses and then leans up straight. "You left, Clint. You have never just left me. You carried…you carried me out of Russia the second time they took me away and I thought I was dead. You kept me alive after Cairo. I put a gun to my jaw and you stayed. So I know exactly how hard this has all been."
She sighs, rubs his chest, "I know you blame me. I should have been on the detail with you but I was mad that you took my scar the week prior. And while you were a puppet Phil…I know you blamed me. But you've always talked to me. So please, talk now."
Clint reaches up, desperately clutches at her curls and she allows it. "You remember that night I burnt down my apartment?"
She smiles sadly, eyes flickering to Bruce as she murmurs, "I remember bloody clothing in my bathroom and hunting down that son of a bitch when you were out on pain meds."
Clint sniffles, "I loved him and he fucked me raw before telling me he had to get to his real life. God, I was pathetic."
She tuts, smacks at his chest, immediately then rubbing at the spot. "He used you and lied to you. He preyed on you when you didn't even know if you wanted to be in a relationship."
Bruce stares and Natasha catches his eye before pointedly looking at the kettle. Bruce moves, blinking as his jealously soaks in the fact that Clint wasn't purely straight.
"This is worse."
Natasha squeezes her eyes closed. "Yeah. Because you trust and love Phil. And he lied. And he left you. And now he's back and he wants it back the same, right?"
Clint nods, hissing as his eyes leak, "He asked if he'd see me at home. Like we could just go back. Like he didn't leave me to…he knows me better than even you Tash! He knows me nightmares and past and all my scars and he wants to just pick it up."
Natasha pulls him up and hugs him with crushing force. He shakes and she smoothes his hair as she whispers, "I've got you. You're alright sweetheart. Oh, Clint," she pulls away and frames his face as he balls his fists, "It's alright, it's going to be okay. I'll fix this. Shush, I'll fix this."
He shakes his head, "You can't, Tash. No one can. I can't even fix me!"
His balled fist rubs too hard at his eyes and she captures his wrist, stands rigid and pushes him down on the couch but the movement is about safety not threat. "Easy, Clint, please, take it easy. Don't hurt yourself. We got over that, remember? Together."
She glances at Bruce and shakes her head to still his path to her. "Listen to me," she kneels beside him, "I want you to sleep. Bruce will go get your go bag from your floor and I'll stay here. Just close your eyes and I'll take care of you sweetheart. You can stay here and I won't let-" her voice breaks and she smiles as she cradles his cheek, his eyes drooping, "I won't let anyone hurt you. Not Fury, Phil, not anyone."
She starts to stand but he grasps for her, "Tash!" she stills and his eyes are desperate as he mumbles, "I fucked up. I was so…and Kate…"
Natasha smiles softly and leans down again, crosses her arms over his chest as she leans against him and speaks, "I know. Oh, sweetheart. Such a soft little heart in that big ol'chest. I knew you'd reach out after Phil. I knew…god, Clint…they broke us. We used sex as weapons. It's not your fault. You were so angry and hurt. I'll handle Kate. And if she thinks she can get to Phil and say a word I'll handle that too."
Clint rests into the cushions as his eyes fall and he mumbles, "Is Bruce here?"
She knows what he means and she smiles as she strokes his hair back. "Yeah. Yeah, he stays sometimes. If you want him to go…"
"No. No, Tash…you're happy."
She leans forward and kisses his temple, "I am. He's a good man, Clint. He'll look out for you, too. You just have to let him."
"It's scary."
She shrugs, "Always is when you have to trust someone. But he's worth it. And someday…someday maybe Phil will be worth it again too."
Clint whimpers, "Tash…"
She sighs, "Hush, sweetheart. Go to sleep. We'll be here."
He stills and then she sees his fists slowly unclench as he begins to snore and she stands. She stares at Bruce as the man sets the kettle on the counter and watches her. He takes a small step and then she is almost running to him, throwing herself against him as she shakes and he squeezes her tight.
"Natasha,"
She calms down as she lets him warm her. She glances back at Clint and then pulls Bruce to her bedroom. She clicks the door shut and sits heavily on the end of the bed.
"This is all so fucked."
He listens as she bites at her lip nervously. Her eyes flicker to him and she sighs.
"When Clint found me…Coulson wouldn't touch him. It wasn't right. I tried…I was broken and I tried to repay the debt of him not killing me with the only thing I had. Myself. When he wouldn't, I moved up. Phil sat me down and told me a few things. His team doesn't run that way. Clint was learning and I had to get it quick because we were the new elite. So I had to be valuable in other ways, learn how to repay with emotion, trust, fidelity."
She shrugs, puts her head in her hands, "Clint and I got close. I…love him. He is my brother. People can say what they like but there's never been a need for that with us. We came from places where sex was an arsenal of weapons and I've never needed a weapon against Clint. And then one night I found out he loved Phil. Bummer was he thought he wasn't loved back. And Clint doesn't just use sex. He usually…"
She stands abruptly and paces. Bruce stands by the door, hands carefully in his pockets as he reminds himself to give her enough space to be strong. "He's always so fragile! And emotions are his weakness. Because he feels so quick and so strong. As a way to keep from really being vulnerable he just let himself be used. And people did. That man…the one he burnt his apartment down after…"
Natasha freezes and stares at Bruce much too still. "I put a knife through his ear after castrating him. Because when Clint says fucked he means something…a little different. After that, I went to Phil. Told him to take care of my sweetheart or I'd gut him. Phil was terrified. Not of me, but of the fact that someone knew he adored that crazy guy."
Bruce finally strides to her in silence and pulls her close. She burrows into him and finishes softly, "I know you don't think this is good, him being here. I know you want me to be okay but I have to fix him. I just-"
He shushes her, holding her close as he rocks them slightly, "You're so strong. I'll be here with you, no matter what. I won't like him for a while because the other guy just doesn't change so easily when it comes to you."
She laughs. The tension still hangs over them but she pulls away and straightens herself out as she tries to regain control.
"Come on," Bruce pulls at her gently, "I'll make you dinner and we'll be very quiet for Clint."
She nods and follows him, murmuring, "He won't say anything, you know. It's not that guy who's been trying to prod at me since the battle, it's really my Clint." As they pass the couch her eyes linger on his form on the couch and Bruce smiles slightly, amending that maybe the other guy changes only for her.
In the kitchen, they sit for hours, all lights off except for the stove. Dinner has long been consumed and dishes handled, food saved. They are sipping tea and speaking sparsely as Natasha sits her vigil, watching over Clint.
Finally, Bruce stands with a stretch, pulls her up and kisses her temple, "I'll go grab his bag. Do you think he's okay on the couch or should we get him to the guest room?"
She shakes her head, "There will do. I suppose you'll need to grab a few of your things as well, we haven't been staying here too often."
Bruce smirks and shrugs, "Am I supposed to be upset that you're comfortable staying with me now?"
Natasha rolls her eyes and kisses him lightly, laying her head to his chest as he now holds her close.
They stand for a moment, her eyes fixed on Clint and Bruce watching for any signs of duress from the young man.
"Go sit with him, I'll be back."
Natasha nods, pulls away and moves over to the couch. She sinks down beside the table and leans against it as she watches Clint's face. His muscles tense just barely and Bruce sees him flinch as the soft click of the door sounds. He grits his teeth to hope that the hearing aids do not assist in his awakening and tries to sneak out. As he leaves he hears Natasha's voice singing a soft Russian lullaby and knows from experience her hands are cradling the man's shoulders, holding him together as he struggles.
Bruce finds his feet travel easily to the elevator, but finds that rather than punching the buttons for his floor or Clint's he deftly smacks the button for the guest floor.
Arriving he walks out to see Phil not tucked in to a private room. The newly resurrected is sitting in the common living area, staring at the television as it plays on mute.
Bruce walks up beside the couch and stares at the man, finally gritting out, "You won't hurt them. You will stay on your floor and away from them. If you cross their paths you will make yourself a reason to exit."
Phil is staring at him now, face as blank as it had been while he'd been absorbing the moving images on the screen. He stands and swallows hard. "Are they okay?"
Bruce clenches his jaw, "No thanks to your sudden return. Have I made myself clear?"
Phil glances down, asks quietly, "Is she taking care of him?"
Bruce's silence is answer, no words spared where correction is unneeded.
"And you're taking care of her?"
Again, silence, but Bruce feels himself tense and takes a slow breath.
"That's new." Phil arches a brow at him and Bruce feels him jaw click as he wonders if the man intends to try to use this new development. "A secret. Well, I'm good at keeping those."
Bruce sneers his disgust and spits, "Don't make comparisons you don't understand. Just stay away from my-" he cuts himself off and Phil smiles slightly.
"Your woman?" the twitch of his eye asks what Clint is.
"My partner and her brother."
Phil watches the man before him, hears the equal path he lays between himself, beast and all that he is, and Natasha. He hears the strain of naming Clint and knows for who he does so but still it makes him sick to know that he cannot counter with any claim to the man. Not now, he's lost that privilege.
Bruce takes the prolonged silence to be the end of their chat. Turning sharply, he heads back to the elevator intent on retuning to Natasha as quickly as possible. As the lift ascends back to his location he hears a small sigh and tilts his head ever so slightly, the monster always ready.
Phil swallows carefully before speaking. "Is there anything I could say that would make him understand what I did?"
Bruce does not bother to turn, rather thinking to spare the man before him the disgusted sneer on his face. As the doors open he shakes his head and responds, "There're only things you should have said a long time ago. And it's not just him you need to fix things with."
Phil stares at Bruce in the endless seconds of the elevator waiting for more.
Turning finally to the open doors Phil catches a flash of green in the doctor's eyes as he mutters, "Keep your distance, Lazarus. I doubt you'll have three lives."
His guest is long gone when he shuffles back over to the couch and resumes staring at the show that plays with no sound. His face twitches for just a moment before he whispers to himself, "I guess all great partnerships always need a greater reason." As the realization sinks in that he is once again the reason for his Clint aligning with forces that will stand between him and his love the tears begin to pool in his eyes. He shuts them quickly and sighs, "I knew he'd never like Tahiti."