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Days since the Battle of San Francisco: 13 (still)


"Heads will roll and rock tonight/For those about to rock, we salute you! /For those about to rock, we salute you! /For those about to rock, we salute you, yes we do…."

"Ma'am, you have a visitor," Jarvis interrupts – again.

I twist around to give the nearest camera an irritable look. "If it's Bucky, tell him to leave it and I said I would be up for dinner," I huff as I inspect some frayed wiring on the underside of the Quinjet airfoil I was lying under.

Jarvis goes silent and the AC/DC comes back on, but only for a moment before it's shut off completely.

I give a low growl and click off the tiny flashlight I had been holding. "Bucky," I hiss as I slide out from under the machine, "I told you-"

"I'm not Bucky."

I freeze in place, my eyes going wide as I stare at literally the only person in the entire Tower I've been trying to avoid for the past two weeks – Clint.

And, of course, my 198 IQ makes me come up with something really intelligent, like "Oh."

He just snorts and leans back against the wall near the door, leaving us studying each other in complete silence. Judging by his expression, though, my ex is just as anxious and uncomfortable as I am.

"Sooo…" I start hesitantly. "Um. Hi?"

"Hi yourself," he sighs and shakes his head. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"You were in the infirmary…" I trail off unconvincingly, still not fully over the initial shock.

"And let me guess, you were busy?" I nod haltingly as he looks around the workshop. "Right. I mean, it looks like it. But…you couldn't spare five minutes?"

"Clint…" I murmur softly, not quite knowing what to say to fill the yawning chasms of silence.

"I see," he mumbles, and I swear my heart shatters at the completely crushed look on his face. "I, um, guess…I'll see you at dinner, then?" he asks, and, without waiting for me to reply, turns towards the door.

"Clint, wait-" I plead, but then he's gone, leaving me standing alone in the middle of a dead silent lab with my mouth hanging slightly open and his slower-than-normal footsteps fading down the hall.

I groan and rub a hand over my face, swiping at the hot tears that were threatening to spill. "J, did that just happen or am I hallucinating?"

"It did happen, Miss Stark."

"And now I have to go eat dinner with everyone after that?" I make a face.

"You did promise Sergeant Barnes, ma'am," he points out smugly.

I sigh in defeat and slump my shoulders. "I hate it when I do that. Fine," I moan, throwing down my work gloves with more force than strictly necessary. "If I'm not back within an hour and a half, search the city for my body."

"Of course, ma'am."

I sigh again and put the screens around me into shutdown, leaving the lab quietly and feeling like I was walking to my execution.

And I'm allowed to be dramatic - I haven't slept in 3 days. Cut me some slack.

The communal floor is vaguely buzzing with tension and quiet conversation between Jane, Betty, and Darcy, like they're too afraid that they'll break something if they talk any louder.

Everyone goes quiet as I walk in, and all my instincts are screaming for me to run! Run and never look back!

Dad gets up with a huff and half carries, half drags me to the seat between himself and Bucky, which is of course right across from Clint. Have I mentioned lately that my luck sucks?

Well, it does. My luck sucks.

I resolutely avoid his eyes, keeping my gaze on the Asian-type dish that was being served. I wasn't honestly that hungry, mainly because my stomach was tying itself in knots, but I figured I needed to eat.

"So," Steve tries. "This is...nice."

"Nice?" I snort quietly, echoed by my dad on my right. "Right."

"Well we're all in one place and not killing each other," he points out.

"But you couldn't cut the tension in here with a Katana," Natasha retorts frankly with a pointed look at me and then Clint.

Clint and I are barely able to share one glance before looking anywhere but at each other and isn't that pathetic?

"We're not the only ones at fault here," Clint argues. "Tony-"

"Stop throwing blame around," Steve orders. "Peaceful dinner, remember?"

I snort again but we all fall silent, the only sound being sounds of people breathing and chewing loudly.

By the end of the meal, the tension in the room has grown exponentially, past the elephant in the room to a cloud that was choking every single one of us.

I jump as Dad throws his fork down with a loud clatter.

"That's it!" he exclaims. "I'm sick and tired of you two throwing yourselves upon your swords!"

"We're not-" I try to protest.

"No!" He slides his chair back from the table and stands. "Come on. Floor 67. Let's go."

"I don't-"

Dad turns on his heels and fixes me with a piercing look before leaving the room, practically dragging Clint with him.

I move to get up and then stop, frozen in place by the thought of being trapped in the elevator with Clint and my ticked-off father.

The intercom by the entrance to the kitchen buzzes. "Taylor, I don't care if you take the stairs, just hurry up before I get one of the super-soldiers to drag you up here."

"Coming, coming," I sigh, shoving my chair back. "Old man," I add quietly, and Bucky laughs as I pass.

At least someone was getting humor from this situation.

I make my way up the seven flights of stairs in pretty good time, pushing open the stairwell door to see my dad and Clint already waiting. "I'm here."

"Took you forever," Dad complains. "Now, Jarvis has locked you in here-"

"What?"

"Hey!"

"-so you might as well stay for the tour I'll be giving," Dad finishes, ignoring both our protests.

"Tour?" I ask. "Why do we need a tour?"

"Because I've redecorated quite a bit," he admits. "Just look around."

I turn to get a better look at the room, and find that, yes, it is different; the wood is a dark, dark brown, and there's a black sectional couch with its back to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. Across from the couch, mounted on the wall that separated the living room from what I assumed was the kitchen, was a big TV with a media center that matched the floor. Between that and the couch there was a soft, plush, light grey rug, and a glass-topped low coffee table.

"Where are we?" Clint questions quietly.

"A retreat," Dad answers cryptically, leading us towards an archway. "Come on."

I make a face and glance at Clint tentatively, catching him looking back at me before we both turn away.

I shrug and follow my dad, Clint following me with his footsteps being just slightly unsteady.

Through the doorway there's an L-shaped hallway, with one branch leading straight ahead and the other to the right. Dad leads us to the first door on the right of the straight part, holding it open and gesturing for us to go ahead.

I step into a cavernous room about the size of a gymnasium, with stone floors that threw sound everywhere. Most of the room was taken up by a massive swimming pool, save for about ten feet that had a hexagonal hot tub.

I glance over at my dad and raise an eyebrow.

"There aren't many pools in the Tower, but I figured you two could use one," he explains. "For exercise, relaxation…other things," he wiggles his eyebrows, earning a glare from me and an eye-roll from Clint.

I walk up to the edge of the pool, lining my toes up to the edge and peering into the calm, clear waters. "How deep is this?"

"Nine feet maximum," Dad calls. "Three feet at the shallow end, over there by the steps."

I glance at the northern end of the pool, where there was a small white staircase going from the edge of the pool to the bottom, complete with two handrails. "And how is it this deep?"

"Floor 66 is currently uninhabited," he admits. "Mainly boiler rooms and maintenance stuff. I was able to extend the pool and all of it's filtration systems downwards."

I nod, biting my lip as I consider the schematics.

"What's this?" My thoughts are interrupted by Clint, who was standing across the room, leaning against one of the four massive floor-to-ceiling windows that took up most of the southern half of the opposite wall, and on the other side was a dark room.

Clint taps the glass. "Hello?"

"Right, come on." Dad leads us out the way we came and down the fork of the hallway. At the end of the shorter hallways there's a set of oak double doors, simple but with minute scrollwork detailing.

Dad shoves the doors open with a flourish. "Jarvis, lights!"

The lights come on to reveal a pretty big room, with oak bookshelves lining the walls, a stone fireplace on the wall opposite the door, and even a small sitting area with a couch and an armchair in the upper left-hand corner.

I'm vaguely reminded of something from Beauty and the Beast.

"Welcome to your library," Dad announces from behind me, and I turn to see him and Clint watching me, the latter with a look of soft amazement on his face.

(I don't think he was looking at the room.)

"Well, technically it's both of yours," Dad amends, pointing to the two of us, "but if we're honest here you'll probably be the one using it most. It's roughly 36 feet by 33 feet, it's got everything from Shakespeare to Lee Child and it's got a fantastic view of the pool." He points over to where, on the same wall as the door, the same windows we were looking at earlier looked out onto the pool, with a lounge chair pressed up against the window for optimal viewing.

"Dad," I turn back slowly, "you didn't have to-"

"Yes, I did," he cuts me off. "Want to see the rest of it?"

"There's more?" Clint asks in awe, sounding a bit like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Of course there's more, birdbrain," Dad rolls his eyes as we walk back into the hallway. "It's like you don't even know me."

"There isn't actually a bedroom here," he explains as we return to the main hallway, "because as much as I joke, that's not really something I want to think about, in all honesty," he admits, and I silently agree. "Plus, if everything goes according to plan, you guys will get your own place one day and this is a retreat, not a permanent living situation."

I feel a blush climbing up my neck as he leads me and Clint, who has gone strangely quiet, thorough a door across from the pool.

We step into a massive gym, longer than it is wide, that has everything from a high-tech treadmill to a basketball hoop and an entire back wall that's covered in a rock-climbing wall.

"Welcome to the ultimate athlete's playground," Dad announces from the center of the room, arms spread. "Basketball, rock climbing, running, cardio; you name it, this place probably has it."

I give a small smile of appreciation and rock back on my heels to watch Clint examine everything with an excited energy about him that I hadn't seen in a long time. It was kind of refreshing.

"Do you want to go drag him away or should I?" a voice asks, and I turn to see Dad, who's moved to be by my side. "We have one or two more stops to make."

I shake my head and approach my ex-boyfriend, taking his sleeve and dragging him – gently, taking him injuries into mind – until he decides to move under his own power.

Dad leads us back out into the main hallways, explaining as we went, "The bathroom's right there-" pointing to the last door on the right, "-and it connects to the pool as well."

We end up back in the living room, and it seems like that might be the last stop of the tour, until Dad perks up again.

"Oh! I almost forgot! One more room!" He walks over to the wall of windows, pushing on the third one from the right and revealing it to be a swinging door, not a window. He steps out onto a terrace that I had somehow not noticed before, waving for us to follow.

The terrace/balcony was a rough semicircle shape, spanning the entire front of the building and giving an amazing view of both the lit-up city below us and the suit landing pad and jet launching pad, a little more than 300 feet above us.

I could've stayed longer, but Dad was quickly herding us back inside and it was, after all, January in New York.

"Did you like it?" Dad asks anxiously once we're back inside.

"I loved it," I tell him, Clint chorusing the sentiment, "but why'd you do it?"

"Because I figured you two needed a place away from everything and everyone, a place that was just…yours," he shrugs sheepishly. "And it really is just yours," he adds. "There is only one way to access this floor, and that's using a special pass-card, and there's only two pass-cards: right here."

He hands us each a thin black card, plain except for the text 'CR-67' stamped across the top in big white letters.

"You two are the only ones that can access this floor; the security system here in completely unbreakable," Dad explains. "I figured you needed the privacy. And speaking of privacy…I'm gonna leave you two now," he finishes in a rush, quickly exiting the room via the elevator.

Leaving just me and Clint…again.

My ex sighs behind me. "Taylor…we need to talk."

I slowly turn to face him, absently fingering the card in my hands. Suddenly the very coz feel the living room had previously had felt hot and prickly.

"Yeah," I agree softly. "We do."