I thought this chapter would be grotesquely boring, but I actually kind of like it xD
Hope you like it too - enjoy! :)
Well, if there was one good thing he could take away from the whole 'Step 8' disaster, it was that Natasha had been worried about him. And had touched his forehead. A small victory, but hey, it's the little things that make a difference, right? Besides, that whole ordeal had been a total flop, so it was good to find a silver lining. Even if it was a thin silver lining.
Maybe actually more like a gray lining.
Anyway, maybe Step 9 would be better. The next morning, the first thing Clint did was consult the list to find out:
9.) Loan them a book that you "just thought they would like."
Oh no.
This could be a problem.
Because Clint… well, he didn't read. Or not really. At least, he hadn't read in a while. Like at least a year. And if he didn't really have any 'favorite books', then how was he supposed to recommend one to Natasha? Just pick out a random book title and tell her to read it?
Actually yeah, no, that probably wouldn't go well. He'd end up picking out a board book or something (no offense against board books).
Well, there's got to be something I can let her borrow.
Clint shuffled into the living room and approached the dusty old bookshelf. He knelt down in front of it and began perusing the titles.
He didn't even know where he'd gotten half of these books from, and he'd only read like five of them. He frowned, mumbling the titles to himself as he tilted his head sideways to read them.
Why the hell do I own a book called 'And Now My Soul Is Hardened'?
Clint pulled the book from the bookshelf and flipped it over to look at the back. The back panel read: 'Warfare, epidemics, and famine left millions of Soviet children homeless during the 1920s. Many became beggars, prostitutes, and thieves, and—'
Okay, so not that one, he decided quickly, putting it away. Why do I even have this book anyway?
A brightly colored volume caught Clint's eye, and he pulled the book out to examine it.
"The Big Book of Pain: Torture & Punishment Through History – What the hell!?" he exclaimed aloud. Where do I even get these books!?
He put the book away and searched for a different title.
His eye fell on a classic: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Hey, that was a good one. This was one he'd actually read more than once. Clint pulled it eagerly out of the bookshelf and glanced over it.
Well… why not this one?
I guess anything's better than… what does that say? Oh – 'Understanding Child Abuse and Neglect'. Good.
Clint tucked the Harry Potter book under his arm and hastened away from the terrifying bookshelf.
…
Natasha was at HQ. It didn't even occur to Clint to question this fact or at least check up on it until he arrived at the base. That was usually where she was in the mornings, whether she was in a meeting, training the new recruits (which she was sometimes forced into doing by Hill), helping with paperwork in some way, working out, or doing something else entirely. Whatever the case, that was where she was most likely to be, so Clint entered the base without bothering to text her and make sure.
Fortunately, he was right. When he entered the SHIELD café for his customary cup of coffee, Natasha was nowhere in sight – but he was informed by several agents who were loitering by the coffee machine that they had seen her heading down to the basement, which was where the gym was. Clint finished his coffee and headed down to the basement.
The SHIELD gym was always alive with activity, but especially in the mornings. Able-bodied agents were scattered across the room, sparring, stretching, and using the workout equipment to stay in shape. Seeing all of them working so hard gave Clint a twinge of guilt – he hadn't been in the gym yet this week. He should really stop by more often.
He located Natasha pretty quickly – she was easy to spot, thanks to her vibrant hair. She was across the room, bench pressing two impressively large dumbbells. Her eyes were closed, and the white cords of her earphones snaked down into the front pouch of her black hoodie.
Clint crossed the room and circled around behind her head. He stood there for a minute, looking down at her upside-down face. Her hood had fallen down, and her hair was tied back in a curly ponytail.
Clint nudged her head with his knee. "Hey, you."
Natasha opened her green eyes and looked up at him. She smiled, making his chest constrict, then said, "Give me a minute." She spoke a bit louder than normal, probably because of the volume of her music.
Clint nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. Natasha closed her eyes again – she hadn't noticed the fat book under his arm yet.
Several minutes passed, filled with the sounds of the activity from the other agents in the room. Clint waited patiently, watching with admiration as his partner continued steadily lifting and lowering the dumbbells, which he now saw were a hundred pounds each.
Finally, she opened her eyes and sat up, lowering the weights onto the floor. She tugged out her earphones and dropped them onto the floor with her phone, then peeled her hoodie off over her head, leaving her in a thin tank top and shorts. Her skin was glistening with sweat, and a few loose strands of hair clung to the nape of her neck. Clint swallowed, trying not to stare at her muscular back and shoulders.
Of course, being her partner, he'd seen her in various stages of undress through the years… but not since he'd realized how he felt about her. And now suddenly it felt so different…
Natasha swiveled on the bench to face him, using her hoodie to wring the perspiration from her hair. "So what's up?"
"Oh, uh…" Clint cleared his throat, trying to collect his thoughts. Come on, just say something, you dummy! "Well… not much. Just, uh…"
"'Just came to say hi'?" Natasha quoted, smirking.
Clint realized she was alluding to what had happened the previous day, and he blushed, remembering how foolish he'd looked. Natasha's smirk grew, and she quirked an eyebrow, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Oh, yeah, uh…" He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. That was, uh… yeah. Sorry about that."
Natasha shook her head, lightly dismissing his apology. "Morse and I had fun trying to guess what you were up to."
Clint gulped. "Like… like how?"
She shrugged. "Morse felt pretty bad about it, actually – she was one-hundred-percent convinced that you'd come to tell me something private, but you couldn't because she was there." She ducked her head, scooping her phone up off the floor.
"Oh," Clint said clumsily.
"Did you?" Natasha asked abruptly. Her tone was affectedly casual, and she seemed intensely focused on winding up the cords of her earphones rather than looking at him.
"Did I – huh? Oh." Suddenly Clint wished he did have something private to tell her. That sounded a lot more impressive and interesting than just coming to say hi. "No, I didn't," he admitted meekly.
Natasha looked up at him again, fixing him in place with her searching gaze. "Hm," she said finally.
There was an awkward silence.
Natasha's eyes dropped downward, and she squinted, tipping her head on its side. "What's that?"
Clint froze. "What's what?"
"That." Natasha indicated his book.
"Oh!" Clint presented the novel. "It's Harry Potter. Have you read it?"
She shook her head.
"It's really good. You should read it sometime. Actually—" (as though it had just now occurred to him) "—why don't you borrow it? Right now? I mean, I've already read it, so…" He extended it eagerly towards her.
Natasha shook her head. "No, that's okay. I'm pretty busy these days. I'll get around to reading it sometime or another." She tucked her cell and earphones into the pocket of her hoodie.
Clint hesitated, his hope fading. "Are you sure? I think you'd really like it," he said fervently, trying to pass her the volume again.
"No, thanks." Natasha swung a leg over the bench and stood up.
Clint mumbled something about "okay" and stuck the book under his arm, disappointed.
"Anyways… I should go," he said, toeing the floor. He felt Natasha look keenly at him.
"Wait, hold on," she said, stepping towards him. Clint met her eyes, then she looked down at his book again. She extended her hand.
"Let me see it."
Clint hopefully handed her the novel.
Natasha turned it over in her hands; flipped through a few pages. Clint waited expectantly.
"You know what, I've been meaning to read these," she said, looking up at him. "I think I will borrow it."
"Okay!" Clint said excitedly. "Yeah, borrow it, and uh… tell me if you like it! We can talk about it, if you want. I've read them all, you're gonna love it!"
"Okay," Natasha said, grinning at him. "Yeah, I'll definitely read it. I haven't read in a while, it'll be fun."
"Okay," Clint said again. "Well… I guess I should go now." (Before I have a chance to make a fool of myself.) "I'll catch up with you later." He turned and started for the exit.
"Wait, Barton."
Clint turned. Natasha was crossing her arms, tucking the book against her chest, smirking at him.
"You know… you and I haven't gone head-to-head in a while."
Clint started smiling. "What, you mean like sparring?"
"Yeah, like sparring." Natasha took a step closer to him, grinning wickedly. "What do you say? Tomorrow, same time, same place?"
"I'll be here," Clint said immediately.
Natasha nodded promptly, then pivoted and returned to the bench. Clint was still smiling as he headed out of the gym.
This is gonna be great! I haven't sparred with her in ages, not since… not since I realized…
Oh, crud.
