Author's Note:
I don't really know how this happened. I ship BlackEye so hard, and my friends and I joked about how we were sure something happened during the whole hospital room scene in the Avengers, so I decided to write it! I really hope you like this, and that it isn't terrible. I haven't ever written a fanfic before! This is my first one, so please go easy on me, but I'm definitely up for constructive criticism. (:
Also, I, very sadly, do not own any of the characters and some of the dialogue in this fanfic! It all belongs to Marvel, so please don't sue me! Thanks. ;)
Enjoy! :D
Natasha was in the training center while Clint watched her behead dummies and kick them in places that made him wince just to think about it. She mutilated all of the dummies in seconds and stopped for a short break to catch her breath. During the rapid lift and collapse of her chest, Clint snuck up behind her (even though it wasn't really sneaking since she knew he had done it) and teasingly whispered by her ear, "You missed one."
He didn't even have to see her face to know the wicked grin that had just spread across her face. She whipped around kicking her leg over him as he ducked down as to not be kicked in the face. Their movements were fluid and graceful. Kick, block, punch, spin... but it soon ended with Natasha standing over a defeated Clint.
"Let's see. Where's that at now? Natasha: 39, Clint: 2?"
Clint slowly got up, trying to get air back in his lungs after it had all been pushed out in a huge wheeze as he had hit the ground.
"Absolutely not. I've at least got 3 wins," he teased.
Natasha smirked as she said, "Either way, you really need to work on your hand-to-hand combat, boy."
"Well, quit distracting me with your body."
Natasha scoffed. They weren't romantically involved (she didn't have time for that), but they had been working together long enough to tease each other about that, and she knew that her body distracted men. It worked out very well in her favor most of the time.
"That's one of my best ploys! You just need to learn to get over that..."
"Nat, I'm a man. I doubt that will ever happen."
Natasha smirked. He was the only one she allowed to call her "Nat". Any other person tried to call her that and they would be on the floor begging for their life in a second.
"So what are you doing this week? Any new missions from Fury?" She asked while they gathered their things and headed back towards their rooms.
"Fury wants me in the room with the tesseract to keep an eye on things. What about you?"
"I'm on a mission in Russia. Classified information, you know… I can't tell you exactly what I'm doing." She joked and elbowed him in the ribs. "If you don't have any plans for this next week when I get back, maybe we can finally have that movie night you have owed me for the past 3 months, hmm?"
Clint mocked her in the highest pitched voice he could manage, "Oh my goodness! Three whole months? That is absolutely horrid!"
She jokingly punched him in the shoulder. It hurt. Of course, he would never tell her that.
"I don't have and plans, Tash. That should be fine." He smiled.
"Tash". That was another one of those names that only he could call her.
"Alright, Cupid. Go babysit those rookies." She winked and they parted ways, but she couldn't help but push away that flutter in her chest that had occurred when she saw him smile. She was Natasha Romanoff. Incapable of love and feelings.
...but she was only human.
"Natasha. Barton's been compromised."
The words rang through her skull as she paced back and forth in her room. She was worried sick. And what made her even sicker, was the fact that she was worried sick! They all knew that this was part of the job. There was always a chance of an agent not returning or something happening to them. She never believed it would be either one of them though. No one could see her like this. She was Natasha Romanoff. Incapable of love and feelings.
...but she was only human.
"Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Drakoff's daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire. Barton told me everything. Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basis of sentimentality. This is a child's prayer, pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away. I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you, slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim!"
Natasha woke up screaming in a tangle of sweaty sheets. She sat there panting for minutes until she finally laid back down, head resting on her fluffy pillow. She watched as the sun slowly came up through the thin, white curtains covering the bulletproof glass window across her room. She knew she wasn't going to fall back asleep. Not now that she was thinking of Clint. She got out of her bed, her feet hitting the cold stone floor as she headed to the bathroom. She figured a shower would help her. She got in, letting the hot water scald her skin, hoping it would rip this terrible emotion out of her. It did, just in a different way than she had wanted. She suddenly collapsed on the ground in sobs, the hot water mixing with her salty tears. She sat there sobbing for a long time before she finally composed herself enough to wash her hair and turn off the water. She stepped out of the shower, grabbing her clean, fluffy towel and wrapping it around her. Looking in the fogged up mirror she saw a red faced, puffy eyed girl looking back at her. "Who are you?" She thought silently to herself. She was Natasha Romanoff. Incapable of love and feelings.
...but she was only human.
The fighting was like old times, but there was new factor this time. Clint's usually steel-gray eyes were a horrific icy blue...and this time there would be no helpful hand up to the loser. Clint was in it to kill this time. Graceful kicks, punches, blocks, and spins were thrown as the danced around each other in a deadly game. They fought hard, finally resorting to hair pulling and biting. It was really quite unexpected, here there were two master assassins resorting to hair pulling and biting. They were just so perfectly matched. For every punch she would throw, he would block and throw his own. Finally, spinning him around and throwing him down hard, Clint hit his head on the rail of the catwalk they were fighting on. He struggled back up to look into her eyes. "Tasha?" He gasped. His eyes faded from the icy blue back to the steel gray she had looked into so many times, but she wasn't going to chance it. One swift punch to the head and he was down. She miserably thought in her head, "Natasha: 40, Clint: 2". She used her com saying, "Barton's down. We need the medics down here in the detention level."
She stared at his still body sprawled on the floor while waiting for the medics to come. She wanted to burst out in tears. "No." She thought defiantly. She was Natasha Romanoff. Incapable of love and feelings.
...but she was only human.
She sat by his bed for hours watching his chest rise and fall and listening to the shaky breaths coming out of his slightly open mouth. She watched as his eyes slowly opened, almost expecting to see the icy blue, but was relieved to see his normal shade of gray. He blinked a few times before trying to sit up.
"Rest." She pushed him back down to lean on the raised bed. "Barton, it's going to be alright." She said halfheartedly. He wouldn't be alright. He'd be taken by nightmares in the dark of the night for the rest of his life. He'd never completely forgive himself for killing the agents that had trusted him. He'd never forgive himself for hurting and betraying her.
"You know that? Is that what you know?" He paused. "I got- I gotta flush him out." He closed his eyes, breathing heavily.
"It's gonna take time."
"You ever have someone take your brain into play? Pull you out and stuff something else in? You know what it's like to be unmade?"
She stopped pouring the glass of water she had been occupying her time with and sat it on his bedside table, looking him straight in the eye.
"You know that I do."
He looked down, thinking. "Why am I back? How did you get him out?"
"Cognitive recalibration." She paused, thinking of her creative name. Seeing the look on his face, she explained further. "I hit you really hard in the head."
"Thanks." He chuckled. She sat down next to him, unlatching the restraints around his wrists. "Tasha, how many agents-?"
"No." She looked him in the eye. "Don't do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for."
Clint looked down, knowing he shouldn't push that matter any further. "Loki, he get away?"
"Yeah. I don't suppose you know where?"
"I didn't need to know. I didn't ask. He's gonna make his play soon though. Today."
"We gotta stop him."
"Yeah? Who's we?"
"I don't know. Whoever's left."
"Well, if I put an arrow in Loki's eye socket, I'd sleep better I suppose."
She laughed a quiet, tired snicker. "Now you sound like you."
He looked concerned. "But you don't. You're a spy, not a soldier. Now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?"
"He didn't, I just..."
Realization dawned on his face. "Natasha..." He whispered, almost too low for her to hear.
She paused. "I've been compromised. I got red in my ledger, I'd like to wipe it out."
They looked in each other's eyes for a moment, both with concern for the other in their eyes. Clint finally broke the silence. Looking away, he said, "You know, sometimes I wish we could just be normal. What would that life be like? How different would that be?" He looked at the gray floor while he spoke, too nervous to look her in the eyes.
She closed off her feelings and wiped all emotions from her face. "You know we can't though. We already chose our paths. This is our job. We can't change it now." She got off of the bed and quickly started to leave. She was in a too vulnerable state right now to deal with this. Clint knew she had started to close off like she did when he brought this subject up. She felt that she was letting her feelings get in the way in these moments so she put up a wall. He wasn't going to allow those damned bricks in between them this time. He stopped her, grabbing her arm. It was a pretty dangerous thing to do to Natasha Romanoff, but he knew she wouldn't ever hurt him…too bad at least.
"No. Don't. Just stay." He could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She could see the fragility in his. That wasn't like him. There was always only strength in those steel colored eyes. "Please." He pleaded. She couldn't stand to see him like this. Those eyes bore into hers.
He sighed in relief as she turned back around and sat back down beside him on the bed. He was relieved when she didn't immediately jerk her hand back when he intertwined his fingers with hers. She looked a little startled at first and looked at him with surprise in her eyes.
"Clint, I can't- I don't know if we-"
"No, please. Just… please." He looked like a wounded child in that moment.
She sighed reluctantly, but then placed her head on his shoulder. Her walls were slowly crumbling down. A small smile snaked its way onto his face. He leaned his head onto hers, closing his eyes and taking in the smell of her fiery tinted hair. They sat there for a while, blocking out the rest of the world as she leaned against his strong, sculpted shoulder and he took in the scent of her hair and the feeling of their hands wrapped around each other. His skin rough and calloused and hers soft and supple. So many had died at the sake of both of those hands weaved together. Clint blocked that idea from his mind. Right now he just wanted to focus on the feeling of them being so close to each other.
Natasha couldn't help it as the words tumbled out of her mouth in a whisper, "I…I fell apart when you were gone, Clint. I didn't know what to do. I thought I had…that I had lost you." Her brows knit together and she stumbled over her words. She didn't know how to express her feelings. Hell, she didn't even know how she had these feelings. She'd spent so long learning how to suppress them and not allow them to get in the way and then…and then Clint happened. She lifted her head from his shoulder and turned her head towards him. Continuing with rare tears in her eyes she said with a light chuckle, "I don't know what the hell you're doing to me."
He lifted his hand to cup her cheek and she pressed into it closing her eyes. Seeing her look so vulnerable broke his heart- for lack of better terms. She was Natasha Romanoff. The strongest woman- no, person- and most talented assassin he had ever met. She wasn't ever helpless. Their foreheads almost touching, Clint took a huge leap by leaning forward and kissing her. He figured that would either result in a great ending or him lying on the floor unconscious. He was willing to risk it in that moment.
He felt her body stiffen in astonishment and then slowly relax as their lips touched. Her arms slung around his neck as her hands wrapped in his short-cropped hair. He raised his other hand to bury in her curls and pulled her into his lap. Breathing heavily, they broke apart and looked into each other's eyes. Natasha suddenly realized that she was in his lap and blushed a shade of red as bright as her hair while almost falling off of his lap in her haste to get out of it. He had never seen her blush. He smiled just thinking of the fact that he had actually made Natasha Romanoff blush. That was quite a feat. She just stood in front of him for a moment with her hand running through her tangled curls awkwardly. She tried to come up with the words to say, but for once in her life was speechless. He got up and closed the space between them, realizing this wasn't a time for words. He wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his hand on the small of her back and brought his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. She rested her hands on his chest closing her eyes too and relished in the moment of…them.
"Fury's would be pissed." She mumbled.
"Let him."
"But it's completely against protoco-"
"No."
"Clint, really-"
"No."
She pulled back her face to look him in the eyes, "You really think you can just say no to me?" She teased.
"Yes." He responded sarcastically with an idiotic grin widely spread on his face.
"Like hell you ca-" She started before Clint clasped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes grew wide before they narrowed and in a childish moment, she licked his hand.
He pulled his hand back in shock and as she was snickering hysterically said, "Did you really just lick my hand?" He tried to wipe his hand on her hair and she pulled back trying to get out of reach but he just pulled her closer.
"Really?" She laughed as she struggled out of his grasp (without too much effort). "Yes, I didjust lick your hand. You afraid I have cooties?" She said, raising her eyebrow.
"No." He replied with a sarcastic stern face. "Just a little stunned that the illustrious Black Widow was immature enough to lick my hand just so that she could speak."
With a tip of her head and a smirk she said, "That's me."
Breaking away from him, with a hand still clasped with his, a more serious expression returned to her face. "So… what happens now?"
"I don't know. I guess we just keep going as usual…but maybe add in a little more kissing than usual." He teased her.
She laughed but then said, "Seriously, Clint."
He stroked her hair. "I don't know, Nat. I've never done this before either. I guess we just try and figure this out together." He kissed her forehead.
She replied with a smile, "Sounds like a plan." She broke from his grasp. "I suppose right now we should probably deal with the matter at hand though: Loki. You'd better clean up, Lover Boy." She kidded while tossing him a towel that landed on his face.
He took the towel off of his head and kissed her cheek before going into the small bathroom attached to the room and closed the door.
She stood there for a few minutes wondering what the hell had just happened in a matter of eight, maybe ten, minutes. She was jolted from her thoughts when the door slid open and Steve Rogers was standing there in full Captain America clad.
"Can you fly a plane?"
Clint emerged from the bathroom wiping his hands on the towel. "I can." Steve looked from Natasha to Clint wondering for a moment if he had interrupted something. He quickly pushed away the thought of being rude, for that should be the last thing on his mind at the time. He looked to Natasha for reassurance of Clint being completely…himself again and she nodded.
He looked back to Clint. "You got a suit?"
"Yeah."
"Then suit up."
Steve left them and she looked to Clint who was searching for his black and burgundy vest and pulling off his black shirt at the same time. She couldn't help but look at his very nicely sculpted abs and arms as he searched around in his bag. She had seen his muscles many, many times, but she had never really…seen them. Feeling her eyes on him he smirked and said, "I know you're checking me out, Fireball." She hated how people teased her about her hair, but she allowed him.
"Well at least I don't have to hide it now." She joked back.
Once he was in full gear with a quiver on his back and a bow in hand she looked at him and said, "Let's go kick some God and chitauri ass."
He smiled wicked, crooked smile she had seen so many times before going in on a mission. This time, the happiness and flutter of her heart in her chest surprised her though. She didn't have feelings…or-or did she? What of all of those years she had learned to suppress her feelings? She was Natasha Romanoff. Incapable of love and feelings. But she finally realized.
…she was only human.
After the battle with Loki (and some shawarma Tony suggested), the Avengers headed their separate ways. Bruce and Tony drove off into the sunset to go spazz over science and do Odin knows what, Steve rode off on his motorcycle and went to go find his place in this new, strange world, and Thor and Loki went back to Asgard. But Clint and Natasha, well, they knew they were still needed at S.H.I.E.L.D. Before they went back into active duty, Fury gave them time off, but they had no place other than S.H.I.E.L.D. to be. They stayed at their home, the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, but took some time to themselves to try and heal from the damage the battle had done and figure out "what happens now". They were Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Capable of love and feelings.
…and they were only human.