I just wanted to let my followers (hi guys!) know that I'm working on a sequel to this story. It's called "Cold Fusion" and I should have the first chapter or two up within the week. Thank you for following my work!
-Lio
Here's a short preview:
Black Widow
If Clint Barton looks at me like I'm made of glass one more time, I'm going to kick his ass.
I could do it too.
We are sitting in a cafe on a side street in Paris. I catch him looking at me over his demitasse when I glance up from Le Figaro. Even through his dark sunglasses, I can feel "that" look in his eyes. At the mixture of self-reproach, affection and pity, anger flushes hot across my cheeks and my heart clenches a little. I want to slap him.
I'm torn between reminding him that even trying his damnedest, I still beat him and pointing out how crucial he was in the battle of New York. I'm not sure what, if anything, I could say to reach him. There seems a gulf impassible between us as he wrestles with what Loki did to him. Clint always knows what to say to me to calm me and bring me back from the brink—often it's nothing—and I used to be able to do the same for him. But what do you say to a man who has been used as he was? To assuage the guilt he feels even though we both know how little control he had?