Clint had lived in orphanages his entire life. The food was menial, the company loud and boisterous and not in a good way. Every single meal was a new experience.
But never had he had a meal like this one.
"I was just trying it out," Bucky explained. And all I got was the wall, I really don't see the problem".
"Why'd you wait till my back was turned?" Nick asked exasperatedly. "Why didn't you just ask?"
"Because what kind of responsible adult would let someone shoot a gun at the dinner table?" "Besides I didn't get him so this is all moot point".
"I just want to understand what you were trying to accomplish".
"I was just trying to bring some new experiences to the dinner table. Jeez".
"And you just happened to be aiming near Clint?" Natasha seethed. "I understand no body is happy about me dating him but I think shooting him is overkill. We need to communicate better" she deadpanned.
"I wasn't aiming. If I were aiming, he'd be dead. I'm willing to sort it out through cuddles. "
"We're not cuddly people".
"What about the gaping hole in your wall" Clint interjected, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Mainly because everyone else was watching this conversation pretty placidly and honestly had barely reacted to the sound of the gunshot. In fact, they had just continued eating. Clint himself seemed to be unable to move from his chair from the shock.
"Oh its no big deal" Bucky said with a wave of his hand. "This isn't the first time this is happened. It's just the first time this has happened in front of company".
Nick held his hand out for the gun wordlessly and Bucky handed it back.
"This gun won't do you any good if you don't have bullets in it, " Bucky said . "How're you gonna catch those killers without bullets in your gun?"
"Aren't the police going to come at the sound of a gunshot" Clint blurted out as it occurred to him.
Everyone snorted in unison.
"They know better than to come to this house" Nick informed him with a smirk.
Clint wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the story behind that.
And so he followed everyone else's example and simply continued eating.
He made sure to squeeze Natasha's hand under the dinner table though.
Once everyone had finished and began taking their plates to the kitchen, Clint sidled up to Natasha.
"So…Bucky just lives here?"
"Yup" she answered simply.
"What about his family?"
"They travel a lot because of their jobs. And they don't really care. Bucky's always lived here, I can't even tell you when we got the spare bed put in. He's family." She shot him an apologetic glance "I'm really sorry about dinner".
Just as Clint was about to answer, Tony pushed himself between them.
"We said he could stay for dinner. And we spent the whole morning around him. When Nick's home, its family time." Tony said firmly, not even bothering to glance at Clint.
"He'll be family soon enough" Natasha responded determinedly, causing Tony's eyes to narrow. "Come on I'll walk you home."
"Oh no" Steve intervened, coming up from behind them "It's getting dark out. I'll drive him and you stay here".
"I'm fine actually" Clint interjected with a forced smile. Getting shot at then getting kicked out. Lovely. "I'm used to walking". Subconsciously he leaned over to give Natasha a kiss, and practically heard everyone hissing. He practically ran out the door.
As he started the long trek home he looked at the buildings around him. On this side of town all the houses had perfect lawns and various expensive expenditures. He hadn't noticed before but Natasha had an elaborate tree house. He spotted one house that had a mini golf course around the back. Another had a ceramic statue of a two dogs humping.
These people had too much money.
He'd mostly been situated in blue-collar neighborhoods, but none of them had an alternative lifestyle like this town did. Houses were attached and narrow. Yards were small. Cars were American. The people were mostly Italian descent, with enough Hungarians and Germans thrown in to offset inbreeding.
He'd only walked a couple of blocks when he came across a middle aged man smoking and staring at him intensely. Beginning to feel uncomfortable Clint spoke:
"Can I help you sir?"
"Goddamn doctors. I have to sneak out of my own house just to get a cigarette." He made a dismissive gesture. "I can't stand being in that house, anyway. It's like a mausoleum filled with a bunch of stiffs. Goddamn pink piece of shit."
"If you don't like the house, why do you live in it?"
"Good question. I should sell it. I never liked it, right from the beginning, but I just got married and my wife had to have this house. Everything with her was pink." He reflected for a minute. "What was her name? Trixie? Trudie? Christ, I can't even remember."
"You can't remember your wife's name?"
"I've had a lot of wives. A lot. Four. No, wait a minute . . . five."
"Are you married now?"
He shook his head. "I'm done with marriage. Had a prostate operation last year. Used to be, women married me for my balls and my money. Now they just marry me for my money." He shook his head. "It's not enough. You've gotta have standards, you know?" He scrunched up his nose.
"This cigarette tastes like ass," he said.
Clint wasn't sure what ass tasted like, but he looked like he would know, so he was willing to take his word for it'
"Uh huh" Clint answered doing an abrupt turn and heading back to Natasha's house.
"You have creepy neighbors," he said immediately in answer to their perplexed looks once they had opened the door. "He seemed pretty harmless but this seems like the kind of neighborhood where people bury each other in their backyards and the cops could care less. And it really was getting dark
Natasha chuckled and he could hear Tony making a out a comment under his breath about pansies.
Later, after Steve had driven him back to the orphanage, Clint had a moment of enlightenment. It was late, past eleven. He'd been getting ready for bed as there was nothing else to do. Maybe it was that Tony's comment had caused him to bristle, maybe it was temporary insanity, Clint simply couldn't explain the need to go trek back to Natasha's house.
It was easy enough to sneak out; he'd done it hundred of times. He walked quickly to avoid thinking about being murdered by a paranoid housewife wielding an iron.
He climbed over the fence once he reached Natasha's house, thanking god that it wasn't electric. He wouldn't have put it past them.
Once he reached where he knew where her bedroom was situated, he nearly groaned.
So incredibly cliché.
He threw rocks at her window.
"Romeo, Romeo, where art thou Romeo" he called when Natasha's head appeared, bewildered, as she stuck it out the window.
"Clint what the hell?" she said gaping at him.
"I realized today that I love you," he told her simply. "Even though it's only been a couple of weeks. I realized this upon my near death experience today. And what's more romantic than doing it a la 'Romeo and Juliet'?. I don't know I just didn't want to wait t o say it…" He began to ramble.
He couldn't be sure because of the distance but he thought he saw a smile begin to form on Natasha's face.
"They die you know. After like, three days of knowing each other".
"Then why the hell is it so famous?! That's pathetic they barely knew each other! I can think of much better love stories. Like Batman and Catwoman. Or Princess Leia and Han Solo". The last one made him pause. Not far off the mark.
"Clint?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you too".
He knew Natasha could see his grin. It was impossible to miss.
"Aren't you supposed to climb up here or something?"
"My ladder's at home."
