"I don't care," she snarled, swinging at him.
He caught her wrist easily. "You're a fucking liar," he growled, "I'm so tired of the games, Natasha!"
"Then leave!"
His eyes narrowed. "Is that what you think I'm going to do?" he said, "You think you can just push me away and Ill leave you so easily?"
"Everyone leaves!" she said angrily, yanking her arm away. She turned her back on him, but not before he had seen the flash of hurt in her eyes.
"Look at me, Tasha," he ordered softly, touching her shoulder. Petulantly, she pulled away. Sighing, he turned her back to face him, cupping her face gently and forcing her to meet his eyes. "Ill never leave you, Tasha," he said, "Theres nothing you can do to make me want to go away."
"You cant know that," she whispered brokenly.
The sparkling sheen of tears in her eyes was nearly his undoing. "I do," he said honestly, "I do know that. I've known it since I first saw you."
Her lips trembled. Clint took the biggest risk of their careers and, leaning forward, brushed his lips against hers. Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. He closed his eyes, adding just a little more pressure. He was starting to feel like a perv, about to cut his losses, when she hesitantly kissed his back.
His heart lurched in his chest, his spirit soaring. She then abruptly drew back, throwing him back down to Earth. Emerald eyes held stormy blue for a moment before she pulled completely away and ran to her room. The sound of the door slamming echoed down the hall. Barton leaned his head against the wall, exhaling a shaky breath. He had done it, gone and kissed her, and she had fled faster than a wounded rabbit. He was an idiot.
Natasha leaned against the closed door, her heart hammering. She was a fool. How could she have allowed him to kiss her, herself to kiss him back? That look- the raw adoration and concern- in his eyes, had brought her low. She was never guarded enough with him. Barton was too honest, too forgiving.
Clint Barton was the first man she had ever kissed because she wanted to, because she wanted him. He shouldn't care about her, no one ever had before. He knew the most about her, knew the real her. These useless feeling he caused in her would go away. Barton was a distraction she didn't have time for, didn't need or want.
She was a killer. She had nothing to offer him. She had no soft feelings. Love was for children, fairy tales were full of shit. She was neither a child or ignorant. She did not care about Clint Barton, end of story.
"You're a fucking liar."
His words hissed through her mind and she sighed. At least he would never know. Things like this would never happen again. It was annoying that the words echoed as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and determined not to think about the man in the other room.