A/N: Darcy makes an appearance! I'm not quite sure how she ended up in this story, but she's fun. Also, Dean's more of a wreck than usual, but he has Clint to help get him through it.

"So how was lunch with Darcy?" Dean asks over breakfast. He's not feeling as rested as he usually does the morning after a hunt. He feels restless, and he's not in a good headspace. He blames it on Crowley's visit.

He doesn't like how easily Crowley knows him, doesn't like that Crowley's taken an interest in him or that Dean's ridiculously easy to play. And he really doesn't like the fact that he's been conscripted—no, agreed—to help put Crowley at the top of hell's food chain. He's supposed to be killing demons, not putting them in positions of power.

Clint grins as he spears a forkful of eggs. "It was good. She's hilarious. You'd like her."

"Mm." Dean pokes at his tater tots. "How'd you meet?"

Clint laughs at a memory Dean doesn't have access to. "New Mexico. Same time I found out you were alive again." Clint's expression slips into something softer. "She was Jane Foster's assistant. They're the ones who found Thor. I got to confiscate her iPod. She was pissed about it."

"Of course," Dean says. "You don't mess with people's music. That's like a violation of basic human rights."

Clint rolls his eyes. "I'm kind of afraid for you two to ever meet each other."

"Well, I haven't met her yet so there's no saying I'll ever meet her." Dean finishes off his eggs and moves onto his toast. "Besides, I stay away from the sciency stuff and it sounds like that's where she lives."

"No, that's where she works." Clint's grinning and it either means something good is going to happen or something that Dean's going to be annoyed about. "And I think you're going to meet, because I asked her to come to the bar with us on Friday."

"You what?"

Clint takes advantage of Dean's shock by sniping a piece of bacon. "SHIELD isn't all work and no play. You know that, and since neither of us are scheduled for a mission, we're going out. I invited Darcy, because she knows how to have a good time. You can bring Sam if you want."

Dean can't remember the last time he went out to a bar, and he wonders if it's a sign that he's getting old or that his job has really gotten to him, but he could use a night out. Drink a few beers, play some pool, get pleasantly buzzed and forget about responsibility and work and demons and just have a nice night with his boyfriend.

"Like Sam would ever choose to have fun," Dean says.

Clint laughs and leans in for a kiss.

The bar isn't one of the swanky ones just down the street from the tower which Dean is grateful for. He likes the rustic bars with the cheap drinks and chipped pool tables and dart boards that are missing a full set of darts.

He feels comfortable in worn seats, surrounded by a faint cloud of smoke. There's no smoke in this bar, but the bar itself and the furniture are made out of knotted wood that makes Dean feel at ease.

The bar is on the right side of the room with a few scattered tables and booths on the left until they give way to a dance floor and then a small stage. Right now there's a local band on stage, and Dean spies Clint and Darcy tucked into the corner, Darcy's back to the front door which means Clint sees Dean instantly.

He smiles and lifts his fingers in a come here gesture, and Dean's feet are moving before he's even aware that he's going. He pauses by the bar, because he's not sure if he needs to get a drink, but then Clint's holding up a beer, and Dean ignores the warmth spreading through his chest at the fact that Clint's here with a table and drink, waiting for Dean to come fill the space that's been set aside for him.

Sliding into the booth next to Clint feels natural like Dean belongs there and then Clint slips his arm around Dean's waist, and Dean's pretty sure he could sit here all night and not complain.

"You must be the infamous fugitive," the young woman across the booth says, and Dean tries not to startle at the sound of her voice, because that would give away the fact that he'd been so distracted by Clint he'd forgotten that she was here. Clint's hand squeezes Dean's hip, and if a hand squeeze could be smug then that's what it would feel like. Or maybe that's the way Clint's body is vibrating with the repressed urge to laugh.

Dean gives Darcy a lazy grin and a nod. "Dean Winchester, at your service."

Darcy's grin is full of mischief as she leans in to say, "Don't need the services you offer. I've got a taser and a vibrator, and they both work beautifully."

Dean chokes on his laugh, and Darcy grins before raising her beer to Dean in a toast and taking a long drink.

"Told you you'd like her," Clint says and he's definitely smug now.

"Of course he does, everyone likes me." Darcy punctuates the statement with a toss of her hair. "Now, I was promised pool."

"She always gets what she wants," Clint whispers loud enough to be heard.

Darcy makes a show of reaching into her purse like she's about to pull a taser from it.

"I'm sure there's a very good reason for that," Dean says, "and I'm not planning on arguing with her. You up for a game?"

Clint grins, full of teeth and promise, and he leans in to murmur into Dean's ear, "I'm up for anything." The words are accompanied by a nip to Dean's earlobe, and Dean wants to get out of the bar now. He wants to drag Clint the nearest empty space and pin him up against the wall and kiss him, but before he can actually act on that thought, Clint is nudging him to get out of the booth so they can go play pool.

"I hate you," Dean mutters.

Clint slips his hand into the back pocket of Dean's jeans and gives his ass a squeeze. "No you don't."

"Adorable," Darcy drawls looking completely unimpressed with their exchange of affection. "Now are we going to play or what?"

"You didn't tell me she was bossy," Dean says but there's a smile tugging at his lips as they follow Darcy over to an empty pool table.

"I can hear you," Darcy tells him cheerfully. "I'm also a trained SHIELD agent."

"That's a bit of a stretch," Clint says. "You're not a SHIELD agent."

"But I am trained."

"To make coffee and file papers."

Darcy's eyebrows go straight up. "I think you're insulting the work I do."

"That would imply that you actually do work."

"Big mistake," Darcy says, handing Clint a pool stick. "I was going to go on easy on you, 'cause your boyfriend's here, but now I'm going to kick your ass."

"In your dreams," Clint retorts. He tries to pass his pool stick to Dean, but Dean shakes his head.

"Pool's better in pairs. I'll play winner."

"Which'll be me." Darcy grins and chalks up her stick. "You want to break, Hawkboy?"

Clint glares at the nickname and goes around collecting the balls from the pockets so he can set up the game. Dean leans back against the wall to watch the two of them. They're easy together, familiar, and he watches as Clint "accidently" hits her with his cue stick getting blue chalk on her white shirt and how she then "accidently" slams her heel down on his foot.

Dean laughs, no sympathy for either of them, and he feels a strange ache in his chest as they grin at each other and call a truce. This is what a normal couple looks like, Dean thinks. They joke about coffee and their jobs and give each other a hard time, but they also know how to relax and have fun, and this is the kind of relationship that Clint deserves.

They bump shoulders as Darcy passes Clint to get a better angle on her shot, and Dean wonders if they'd notice if he just slipped out. He's sure that Darcy has some sort of baggage, no one's is perfect, but it's probably nothing as extreme as making demon deals and being hell's #2 torturer.

"She's insufferable," Clint confides as Darcy does a little 'I got the ball in a pocket' dance, but his voice is full of warmth and fondness, and he can't quite keep the smile off his face.

"Oh yeah," Dean agrees. "That's why you two go to the bar all the time."

There must be something off in his tone, because Clint tilts his head to the side, a question on the tip of his tongue when Dean shakes his head.

"Everything's fine. I'm going to get our drinks. Try not to lose before I come back, I want to see Darcy's victory dance."

"Hey!" Clint protests, but his smile isn't completely there, it's hesitant like he knows he's missing something, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

"Yo, birdbrain," Darcy calls. "You going to go or what?"

"Your lame names never get any better," Clint says. He turns back to the table and pushes Dean out of his mind and focuses on what shot to make next.

Dean begs off playing winner, claiming that he wants to give Clint a chance to even up the score. Darcy laughs and thinks it's a great idea. Clint pauses for a moment like he's considering shoving the stick into Dean's hands and making him play but then he shrugs, takes the beer Dean's offering, and goes back to exchanging playful trash talk with Darcy.

Dean cradles his beer, still his first one, and lets his attention drift over to the band. The lead singer looks like he's trying to make out with the mic, and the drummer has way too much hair, and Dean thinks that their music isn't half-bad, but they'd probably have a bit more successful if they stopped trying to fit in. They were what you expected from a small bar's Friday night band and that would never get them noticed.

Darcy cheers as she sinks a ball, and Dean flashes her a smile and gives her a thumbs-up from behind Clint's back.

Dean agrees to play the third game even though Clint and Darcy are tied 1-1 and should be playing a tie breaker. Darcy assures Dean that if they play a tie breaker then she's going to win and that will make Clint pout and be no fun for the rest of the night.

"I'm not sure why I take you anywhere," Clint grumbles even as he passes his cue stick to Dean.

Darcy flashes a smile too sweet to be completely genuine. "It's 'cause you love me."

Dean feels Clint's gaze flit to him, like he's afraid Dean's going to have a freak out, but Dean's smiling, happy and relieved, because Darcy is a good person for Clint to love. She's fun and happy and, most of all, safe, and that's what Clint deserves.

"You're delusional," Clint says after a moment too long. "I'm going to go get another round of drinks. Same you had before?"

"I want," Darcy begins.

"No." Clint gives her a stern look. "You aren't allowed to have energy drinks under normal circumstances. I'm certainly not giving you one mixed with alcohol. You want something sweet? Maybe pink?"

"Do it and I'll carve Clint sucks into all your bows."

"Devious." Clint turns to Dean. "You want another beer?"

Dean holds up his beer, showing that it still has about a quarter left. "I'm good but thanks."

"That's your first," Clint says. "We've been here for almost an hour."

Dean smiles, hoping it'll dispel some of Clint's worry. "One of us has to be responsible, and it's certainly not going to be either of you." Dean leans in to press a brief kiss to the corner of Clint's mouth before turning to Darcy. "Unlike Clint, I'm actually good at pool so you're going to have a bit of a challenge."

Dean's fingers itch to curl around his beer and finish it. He wants to knock back some shots or pound a few more beers, but he can't. He thinks it's entirely unfair that whenever he wants to drink the most is when he definitely shouldn't be drinking at all. He wants to drink until his head is fuzzy and his stomach is warm, until he's forgotten about everything he's done, everything's doing, until life is one pleasant blur of sensations.

But Dean's head isn't in the right place to be that kind of drunk tonight. If he drinks he's going to get angry or emotional, and he doesn't want that. He doesn't want to ruin Clint's night, and he doesn't want to give away the fact that everything isn't okay.

"You going to break or just stare melodramatically out into space all night?" Darcy asks, cutting through Dean's thoughts.

"Right," he says. "Sorry."

"Uh huh." Darcy leans against the edge of the table. "You know, a lot of people have tried to set me and Clint up."

"Mm." Dean carefully lifts the plastic triangle up and goes around to the other side of the table so he can break.

"Any reason his boyfriend's trying it?"

Dean looks up from the cue ball, shocked that she'd picked up on something he thought he was doing a pretty good job of hiding. "Uh."

"You're an idiot," Darcy tells him. "Which is exactly why you two are perfect for each other. I have no desire to date him, and he's too in love with you to even consider dating me."

Dean doesn't want to be having this conversation. Darcy's obviously observant, something he should've realized since she works at SHIELD, and Dean has way too many secrets he's trying to keep.

"I thought we were playing pool," Dean says.

Darcy snatches the cue ball off the table. "I'm talking sense into you, because I might not want to date Clint, but I like him, and I'm not going to watch you two fall apart."

"We're not falling apart."

Darcy rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's why you're trying to set him up with me? You bored or something? I mean, you two have been dating for a damn long time and—"

"I'm not bored," Dean snaps. He would never leave Clint, because he was bored. It would be impossible to be bored with him.

Darcy grins, and Dean has no idea what's just happened, but it's probably not good. "So you think it's something wrong with you. He clearly loves you, dude, so relax and have some fun."

He loves what he knows of me, Dean thinks. He loves who he thinks I am, but I've been carefully not telling him things that will make him not love me, because I'm selfish, and not a good person, and I'm afraid that I won't be able to get out of bed in the morning if he doesn't love me.

Dean doesn't know when he got so dependent or pathetic, but he knows he's too deep to fix it. He doesn't understand how this always happens to him. Dad, Sam, Cas, now Clint. Dean can't imagine life without the people he cares about. His chest constricts, a sharp ache piercing through his heart that makes his eyes water with the shock and intensity of it.

"Shit," Dean breathes and it isn't until he feels a warm hand on his shoulder that he realizes he's spoken out loud. He turns to see Darcy looking at him with worry, her smile completely erased from her face.

Dean takes a quick step back, because he doesn't even know her, not really, and even if he did, he wouldn't want her pity.

"You should really play that tie breaker," Dean says and he lays the stick against the table. Darcy crosses her arms over her chest like she's going to protest but Dean shakes his head. "Clint's had a rough week. He deserves a night of fun, and I'm not going to be fun tonight. Make sure he blows off some steam and don't let him worry about me. I'm fine."

"Oh buddy," Darcy says. "You're so far from fine."

Dean's shoulders slump with relief, because someone's finally noticed, and he hadn't realized how much he wanted someone to cut through his bullshit until they did. It isn't enough to make him stay, because he meant what he said, Clint needs to have some fun, but it's enough for Dean to give Darcy a real smile before he heads for the door.

Dean gets ready for bed, but he doesn't go to sleep, because he wants to wait up for Clint to make sure he makes it back okay. A part of him kind of wishes Clint doesn't come back, that he opens his eyes and realizes that Darcy is perfect and everything he needs and that he goes back to her place.

And then Dean thinks that maybe they'll be too drunk to be thinking clearly. What if Clint takes her back here? This is technically Clint's suite, no matter what anyone (Sam) has to say on the matter. Dean doesn't want Clint and Darcy to stumble in, drunk and handsy, and find Dean on the bed, because that'd be awkward, so Dean jumps out of bed and searches for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt so he can go back to his room.

There's a bed there, and it'll be no trouble for Dean to sleep there for one night. He wonders if Clint will bring Darcy to breakfast in the morning or if he'll think that's too awkward. Dean wonders if maybe he should go to the Impala. Sleep there tonight and then go visit Bobby. Maybe he should move out of the tower.

Dean's vaguely aware of the fact that he's way too tired to be trying to think right now. He stumbles into the wall as he tries to pull his sweatpants on. Trying to stay awake without anything to distract him is hard. Whenever a bar trip or a hunt keeps Dean awake to the early hours of the morning, he has no problem keeping his body alert and his head clear. Why is he having so much trouble now?

"Going somewhere?"

Dean's head snaps up, and Clint's standing in the doorway, his hair sweat mussed, sticking up in every direction, and there's a healthy flush on his face, and he's smiling, but it's guarded, like it's trying to protect the worry that's deeply inset in his eyes.

"You're back," Dean says as he pulls his sweatpants up. He peers around Clint, but he doesn't see Darcy. Doesn't hear any sign of her either. "And alone."

Clint frowns. "Of course I'm alone. Did you leave the bar to come back here and drink?"

"I'm not drunk," Dean says, but he might as well be, because his body feels too light, like he's not actually in it, and words are rising up in his throat, and he wants to talk even though he knows he shouldn't.

"Darcy said something was wrong," Clint says, coming further into the room, but he doesn't shut the bedroom door because he knows it will make Dean feel trapped. "I should've come back right away, but she said to let you stew for a bit."

"She's smart."

Clint's close enough to run a hand through Dean's hair, to tilt his head down so he's looking straight into Clint's eyes. "Yeah, but she doesn't know you like I do. Too much thinking is bad for you." Clint's other hand loops around Dean's waist, pulling him closer. "Want to talk about what's got you all worked up?"

No, Dean thinks, but what comes out is, "I don't want you to date Darcy."

Clint's goes still, his hands pulling away from Dean. "What?"

"I mean," Dean grabs Clint's hands and tugs him closer, because Dean needs to be touching him, needs Clint's heat to bleed through, to warm Dean up, because he feels cold, so cold. "I do want you to date."

"What?" Clint asks again but he doesn't try to pull away this time. "Did I do something wrong tonight?"

Of course Clint thinks he's done something wrong. He never understands that it's Dean's fault. It's always Dean's fault. "No." Dean runs his hands up and down Clint's arms, willing the tension to bleed out, for Clint to relax. "Nothing wrong. Never. I love you." Dean's hands pause and tighten, his grip almost desperate.

"But you want me to date Darcy?" Clint sounds confused, and Dean can't blame him. It's all jumbled in Dean's head too.

"Yes," Dean says and Clint stiffens again. "No. I mean," Dean pauses, wildly searching for the right words even as his mind screams at him to just shut up before he screws everything up. "I should want you to date her. She's good for you. You deserve someone good for you, but I'm selfish. I love you so I don't want you to leave me, but you should." Dean can't decide whether he wants to cling to Clint or push him away so his hands just go slack, palms resting gently against Clint's arms. "You should get as far away as you can."

"Oh Dean," Clint sighs and then he's wrapping his arms around Dean, holding him tight, like he never plans on letting him go, and Dean begins to shake, because he doesn't deserve this, but he wants it so much. He wants this to be real, to be a promise even though he knows he shouldn't.

Clint's hand cards through Dean's hair, almost petting him, as Clint maneuvers them to the bed, and as soon as they're lying down, Dean worms his way into Clint's space, sliding a leg between Clint's, winding an arm around his waist, curving a hand behind his neck. It's still not enough. Dean's not sure it'll ever be enough.

Dean's eyes meet Clint's for a moment, but the worry and the trust and the love in them is too much so Dean drops his head to the curve of Clint's neck.

"I've messed up," Dean says even though he shouldn't. He shouldn't talk, because then Clint will leave, and Dean doesn't want him to leave. But Clint needs to leave. He needs to get out before Dean ruins him.

"It's okay," Clint says and his hands are warm as they stroke up and down Dean's back.

"It's not." Dean closes his eyes, rallies his strength. "I messed up bad, and I wish I could tell you how, but I can't. I literally can't speak when I try and tell you, but I had to tell you something, because I'm not good enough for you. I did something I shouldn't, and I don't even feel sorry. I," Dean chokes and presses wet eyelashes against Clint's neck. "I need you to leave me."

Clint's hands pause, but his arms pull Dean tighter. "That's not happening."

"But—"

"I know you," Clint says, "If you did something then you thought you were doing the right thing. Maybe something bad is going to come out of it, but I don't blame you for that, and I certainly don't hate you for it. We'll figure it out."

No, Dean thinks. Clint isn't just supposed to accept. That's not how it's supposed to work. He's supposed to get angry, he's supposed to yell and hurl insults so that Dean hurts, so that Dean's too shocked from the pain to register that Clint's leaving or try to stop him.

"You don't understand," Dean says. "This isn't even the worst I've done. I haven't told you about hell. I—"

"Enough," Clint says and his voice is sharp, brooking no room for argument. "I know everything I need to know." Clint tilts Dean's chin up so they're looking at each other. "I love you, and you're not going to change my mind."

"It's going to blow up in my face," Dean says. He has no idea how bad things are going to get with the Crowley and the Alastair situation, but they're going to get bad.

"I'll be there," Clint promises. "We'll figure it out. Just," Clint's fingers brush over the back of Dean's neck. "stop pushing me away. Okay?"

"I'll try."

They don't talk about it the next morning, at least, not directly. They wake up and go through their morning routines, and Dean feels awkward and raw as hell, because he'd been emotionally wrecked last night, but Clint's acting like nothing's happened, and Dean's not quite sure how to handle that.

At first, he decides to ignore it like Clint's appearing to, but Dean isn't good at ignoring problems so when they go to breakfast, he gives himself a knife even though he doesn't need one and doesn't give one to Clint, and he watches to see if Clint goes and gets a weapon of his own or eyes Dean's with suspicion.

Nothing.

Next, Dean stands in Clint's blind spot while he dries dishes, and Clint tenses, because he's uncomfortable with anyone in his blind spot, but he doesn't say anything, just continues to wash their dishes. Dean doesn't understand. He'd told Clint last night that Clint couldn't trust him, and Clint's okay with that? That doesn't make any sense.

Dean frowns and focuses on going completely still. He slows down his breathing until his heart is a slow quiet beat and until the breaths he's pulling in and pushing out are barely audible.

"Stop testing me," Clint snaps, startling Dean out of his impromptu meditation.

And just like that, they're fine. Well, as fine as they get. Dean doesn't understand how the hell he got so lucky to be dating Clint, but he stops pushing and they go out that night, back to the bar and they drag Sam and Natasha with them and meet up with Darcy and Jane and Thor there, and Dean learns that Clint has a damn good voice when Darcy gets him drunk and makes him sing karaoke.

He also learns that Darcy has a terrible voice, because Clint drags her up onstage for the chorus. Sam has a goofy grin on his face the whole night, and Natasha looks politely disinterested; though, Dean catches her almost smiling at Sam when Sam stumbles up onto the stage to give a passionate rendition of Build Me Up Buttercup with Thor.