Argghhh, so sorry for the wait. It was 4th of July weekend so on top of working four days in row, there were many festivities. Plus, I was teaching my cousin how to drive, then I took him for his driver's test this past Tuesday (that little shit passed by the way). So yeah, I've been busy. And I didn't want this chapter to be a let down so I worked really hard on it. I hope you like it. Enjoy!
The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon when Clint polished off his coffee. Natasha sat across from him in the booth at the 24-hour diner, her ham and cheese omelet torn to pieces on the plate in front of her. They'd arrived at the diner an hour earlier, claiming a booth by the row of windows that overlooked the tranquil street. However, with the rising sun, the citizens of New York were starting to rise as well.
For the most part, Clint and Natasha sat in silence at the diner, but that was due to the consumption of food. Now that they were finished, conversation could commence. However, they remained in silence for a few minutes, gazing out the window of the diner pensively.
Natasha's sudden invitation had baffled Clint. She was very hot-and-cold with him. One moment she was calm, cool, and collect. The next, she was in bitch mode. Barnes' sudden departure had also elicited a sudden change in attitude in the female assassin, which generated a lot of questions for Clint.
From his peripheral vision, Clint noticed the elderly waitress sidle up to their table, her notepad in hand and pen at the ready. She glanced at their empty places before addressing them. "Can I get you two anything else?" she asked sweetly.
"No thanks," Clint said. Natasha shook her head. "Just the check."
The waitress nodded and then marched away to ring up their check. Returning his attention to Natasha, he found her staring out the window again, a pensive look on her face. Clint had so many questions, but he didn't want to ruin Natasha's good mood. He had to be careful what he said or there was a chance she could become easily offended.
Nervously drumming his fingers on the tabletop, Clint contemplated how to start a conversation. Talk about the weather? Comment on the busy morning traffic? Mention going for a run when they got back to Avengers Tower? There were so many possibilities but Clint didn't quite know what to say.
Clint was still lost in thought, contemplating what to say, when their waitress returned, slapping the bill on the tabletop and wishing them a good day before running off to tend to her other tables. The archer glanced at the bill and then reached for it, but found his hand colliding with Natasha's instead.
"I've got it," Clint boasted.
"Don't be ridiculous, Barton. This was my idea," Natasha said sourly.
"Your idea, my treat."
Natasha rolled her eyes and then retracted her hand, holding both up in defense. With a smirk, Clint grabbed the bill and looked it over before pulling out his wallet and retrieving a twenty dollar bill. He placed the bill and the twenty on the edge of the table and then returned his attention to Natasha. She was back to staring out the window, almost as if she didn't quite want to look at Clint. So, now he was curious. He had to ask.
"So…" Clint trailed off nervously.
Natasha turned back to face Clint. Her brow was furrowed in confusion and her arms were folded across her chest. "So, what?" she asked.
"There any particular reason you asked me out for breakfast?" Clint asked bluntly.
"This isn't a date, Barton," she stated icily.
"I know," Clint responded quickly and proudly. What kind of fool did she think him to be?
"Then what do you mean?" she asked condescendingly.
She knew exactly what he was talking about but she was trying to beat around the bush. That wasn't going to happen on Clint's watch, though. "Well, an early morning workout together followed by Barnes' departure which caused you to suddenly ask me out for breakfast. What was the purpose?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
With the same stone cold glare, she said, "Seemed like a good opportunity."
But Clint knew better, so he arched an eyebrow at her once again. He could see through her façade; he was quite possibly the only person who could. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the red head sitting across from him. Their eyes connected and it wouldn't take long for the female assassin to grow uncomfortable.
They glared at one another in silence, the buzz of the diner patrons' voices becoming faint background noise the more they concentrated. After a couple minutes, Natasha began to squirm in discomfort. She unfolded her arms and gripped the edge of the seat. Hanging her head, she broke eye contact and sighed.
Natasha sighed again as she lifted her head. She held Clint's gaze for a second before directing it towards the window again. The cars whizzed by the window until traffic was halted by a red light several feet up the street. Natasha's eyes followed these cars as they rushed past the window; her focus was intent on avoiding Clint.
After several more seconds, Natasha pulled her gaze away from the window and dropped her head once again in shame. She folded her hands in her lap before raising her head. Her gaze didn't meet Clint's but he knew she could see him out of the corner of her eye.
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she mumbled incoherently under her breath. At first, Clint didn't catch what she'd said so he cleared his throat to get her attention. Her head snapped up and she shot him a nasty glare before repeating her answer.
"It's just good to have you back."
"Legolas, look alive! It's your turn!"
Clint was roused from his thoughts and he looked wildly around the room to find his male Avengers teammates staring back at him in concern. Seated directly across the coffee table was Tony, who was holding his arm out, the pair of die in his outstretched palm. With a sigh, Clint took the die and shook them in his hand before releasing them to roll an eight.
Why Tony had decided the male Avengers needed a game night to bond was beyond Clint. And why they had to have it in Clint's apartment, he didn't quite understand either. But Tony was a pain in the ass and he was letting Clint live in Avengers Tower for free so he had complied grudgingly. Clint's only rule was that everyone else brought snacks and beer.
Clint grabbed his game piece and moved eight places forward on the game board. His game piece landed on a yellow square and he reached forward to pluck a card from the box. His eyes scanned over the card before standing up and walking over to the easel holding an oversized notepad. Clint uncapped the marker with his teeth and then looked over at his audience.
"Can we stop for the night?" Clint whined.
"Are you not enjoying the festivities, fair archer?" Thor boomed as he shoved a whole Pop Tart into his mouth.
Clint knew Tony meant well when it came to "team bonding." But he knew the billionaire's real purpose in organizing game night, and that was to get an update on Clint and Natasha's rekindled friendship. Since they'd gone out to breakfast, Clint and Natasha spent their early mornings in the gym – sparring, running, and lifting. After their workout, they'd typically get breakfast from the 24-hour diner, where they would eat in silence before paying the bill and leaving.
Barnes' absence had caused the rift between Clint and Natasha to shrink. Even though they spent their breakfasts in silence, more words were exchanged between them throughout the day. During their sparring sessions, insults were hurled at one another, followed by sly grins to show that they were only kidding. While they walked back to Avengers Tower, they made small talk about the weather and their gym session, but never one did they talk about important details.
Clint's rekindled friendship with Natasha had also stabled his mentality. While the nightmares were still frequent, he didn't wake up as terrorized as before. He still lost sleep over them, thus resulting in the early morning workout sessions with Natasha. But that was the point. Spending time with Natasha was helping his mental stability.
And right now, all Clint wanted to do was go to the gym, in hopes of running into Natasha there. Instead, he was stuck in his apartment, playing Pictionary with his teammates.
With a sigh, Clint turned to the oversized notepad, marker at the ready. Clearly there was no chance of him making a disappearing act soon.
"What's the matter, Robin Hood? Missing your beloved Maid Marian?"
A chuckle erupted from Tony's throat and Clint stiffened, the marker hovering just above the paper.
"Tony, stop," Steve scolded.
Angrily, Clint shoved the cap back on the marker and slammed it onto the small shelf on the easel. "Just finish the game without me," Clint grumbled as he stomped past his teammates and headed for the elevator. He pressed the button and the elevator doors slid open, revealing its chrome interior. Clint stepped in and pressed the door close button, barely glancing up at the doors before the shut.
The elevator idled in the shaft, waiting for a command from the archer. He knew his little episode in the apartment was uncalled for, but playing Pictionary was the last thing he wanted to do right now. His psych evaluation was in three days. And though team bonding could contribute to mentally stabilizing himself, it actually made him lose his mind.
Clint leaned against the back wall of the elevator and sighed. He may have been held in captivity for three years by HYDRA, but that didn't mean he needed to be around a group of people all the time. Clint's teammates knew that he was a bit of a loner before his captivity. The company he had when he'd returned was nice but now it was starting to get old. His captivity hadn't changed him; he still preferred to be alone with the exception of one person.
"JARVIS?" Clint said, pushing away from the wall.
"How may I assist you, Mr. Barton?" the A.I. responded.
"Is Natasha in the building?" Clint asked.
"Yes, Mr. Barton. She is in her apartment on the 17th floor."
How ironic, Clint thought sarcastically. Of course Tony would put me the apartment that's a floor below Natasha.
"Thank you JARVIS," Clint answered.
"Shall I take you up there?" the A.I. asked.
"That would be great."
JARVIS responded with the elevator's ascent. Clint knew this was a bad idea. It was a horrible idea, but Natasha was the only person he figured would understand how he felt. Of course their friendship wasn't strained, but they weren't the way they were before his captivity. Barging into her apartment unannounced seemed like a good way to get killed by the Black Widow.
The elevator came to a halt and Clint felt his heart start to pound against his rib cage. He certainly hoped she wouldn't get mad. At the very least, he hoped she would just kick him out if he was unwanted.
The silver doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit living room. Clint hesitated to step out of the elevator, but he was here now; he might as well. He stepped through the doorway and into the posh living room. A faint glow emanated from the fireplace, casting a haze throughout the room. The furniture was basically the same as Clint's: pale white material placed in a semi-circle around the fireplace. A glass coffee table was placed in the middle, surrounded by the pale furniture.
In the dim light, Clint couldn't tell if Natasha was in the room or not. He glanced over to his right, to where the kitchen was situated, only to find it in darkness.
"Done staring?"
Clint jumped and wildly looked around the room for the source of her voice. A low chuckle came from his right and he looked over the find Natasha standing at the end of the hallway. She was clad in a pair of shorts and a ratty old t-shirt while her red hair was pulled up into a messy bun. By the looks of it, she wasn't angry that he'd intruded, but the night was still young.
"I was just, umm, looking for you," Clint stated as he swallowed nervously.
The female assassin nodded before padding across the room and flopping down on the couch. Clint stayed stationed at his spot in front of elevator, unsure if he was welcome to proceed further into the apartment.
"Well don't just stand there," she grumbled. "Come sit down."
Clint breathed a sigh of relief before dragging his feet to carry him further into the room. He took a seat on the couch, staying as far away from Natasha as possible.
"Don't worry. I'm not mad," Natasha said as she pulled her legs onto the couch and tucked them underneath her. "I have JARVIS tell me whenever someone is heading up to the apartment."
Clint nodded, but his nerves were still getting the best of him.
"So, what's up?" she asked, resting her elbow on the arm rest and cradling her head in her hand.
"Oh, umm, just really annoyed by team game night," Clint mumbled.
"Well, I'm glad you're back so that I don't have to go to those anymore," Natasha teased. "Being the only girl kind of killed the mood."
Clint chuckled. "You're not missing anything. Tony's overly competitive. Steve puts everyone else's drawings to shame. Thor shoves his face with Pop Tarts and Bruce sits in the corner, acting like he doesn't care."
"Ah, Pictionary," Natasha stated.
"Yeah, Pictionary," Clint chuckled in agreement.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. The only sound was the hum of the electric fireplace which was the source of light for the vast living room. The light bounced off of Natasha's red hair, casting a fiery halo around her head.
The sudden urge to kiss Natasha hit Clint in the chest like a sack of bricks. It was similar to before his captivity, when he'd been hopelessly in love with her and was close to getting down on one knee. Little things, such as the way the light hit her hair or the way she looked down when he told her something that made her blush, always knocked the air out of his lungs.
Suddenly, Natasha jumped from the couch, breezed past Clint, and headed into the kitchen. Clint couldn't help but admire the way her hips swayed with every step and how her black shorts hugged her curves, particularly her ass.
"You want some coffee? Tea?"
Clint was spooked by the sound of the red head's sultry voice and he hoped she hadn't caught him staring. She was reaching into a cabinet, her toned leg muscles stretching as she stood on her tip toes; Clint couldn't help but stare even more.
"Clint? Do you want anything?" she asked again. She'd retrieved what she needed from the cabinet – a packet full of Starbucks coffee grounds – and she was already setting up her red coffee maker.
"Umm, yeah, yeah, sure. Coffee's good," he agreed. He rose from the couch to join her in the kitchen; he hoped that being closer to her wouldn't cause him to stare at the finer parts of her body.
He mounted the steps to the kitchen just as Natasha closed the top of the coffee maker and hit the button to start brewing. Instantly, the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room. The drip-drip of the coffee filled the silent room. Natasha was leaning against the counter while Clint was directly opposite her, leaning against the island. Neither one of them made eye contact with the other in hopes of avoiding any more awkwardness.
Just drink the damn coffee and then go, Clint thought to himself. Don't make this complicated.
The coffee maker finished spewing the freshly brewed liquid and Natasha pounced on the opportunity, thankful to finally have something to do. She pulled the pot from the burner and then turned to Clint. "How much do you want?" she asked, holding up the pot.
"Oh, umm, I don't know. About three-fourths of a mug, I suppose," he said.
Natasha nodded in understanding and then turned around to grab the jar full of sugar in the corner.
"I'll grab mugs, if you'd like," Clint offered.
"They're right above me," she said, not daring the meet his gaze.
She didn't object; she didn't say no. Therefore, Clint stepped forward and reached over Natasha's head to retrieve two mugs from the cabinet. Their bodies were inches from one another's, and yet, neither one of them flinched away from the other. Closing the cabinet door, he handed one mug to Natasha, which she took graciously. She poured the steaming hot liquid into the mug and then traded it for the second mug.
As Clint passed Natasha the mug, their fingers brushed against one another. A small, faint gasp slipped from Natasha's mouth, her pouty lips parting slightly. It was at that moment when Clint realized how close he really was to Natasha. Outside of the sparring ring, this was the closest they'd ever been. His chest was less than an inch from her shoulder. He was so close he could practically feel the heat radiating from her body.
Right now was his chance, and he knew he should take it. But the thought of getting caught or even getting hit by Natasha was what was holding him back. He worried that Barnes was going to walk through the elevator doors, returning home early from his mission to surprise Natasha.
Then there was the memory of the first time he'd kissed Natasha. He'd caught her off guard and she'd caught him off guard as well. He kissed her; she decked him in the eye, enough to draw blood. Clint had received five stitches and Natasha walked around the SHIELD base for the next week with a smirk across her face, pretty pleased with herself.
But if he didn't do it, he'd regret it. That much he knew. He knew Barnes would be returning in a couple days so who knew when his next opportunity would be, or if there even would be another one.
He noticed Natasha's breathing hitch in her throat as her eyes landed on Clint's lips. That was the only sign Clint took to go forward with his plan. Leaning in ever so slightly, he could feel her breath on his. His lips hovered over hers for a split second before they connected.
She was still at first and Clint barely did anything. It was a simple touch, lips on lips, before he pulled away. His heart was pounding, anticipating her lashing out at him. He expected a punch in the throat or a slap across the face. Instead, she stared at him with a look he'd seen one too many times.
Hunger.
It all happened so quickly. One minute, the mug of coffee was in his hand. The next, it was shattered on the floor in an ugly, black puddle. Natasha gripped Clint's shoulders and shoved him from one counter to the other. His spine hit the countertop of the island, eliciting a moan of anguish from the archer that barely made it out before Natasha's mouth covered his.
Her hands were all over his body and, awkwardly enough, he didn't quite know what to do with his. Their lips molded to one another's, as if they'd just kissed yesterday. They fit perfectly together as their lips moved other one another's and their bodies molded to the other's. Clint found himself resting his hands on her hips while her hands traveled up his chest and rested on his face.
Their goodbye kiss three years ago wasn't this passionate. Their first kiss wasn't either. Hell, their second or third or tenth kisses weren't this fabulous either. Kissing during sex never got this heated and their goodbye kisses were just pecks on the lips. This was three years of pent up frustration, three years of longing, being released into the open. And it felt fucking fantastic.
It was almost as if Clint could feel the hunger in Natasha subsiding as her lips slowed down from roaming over Clint's. When she stopped, she pulled away from him but her body was still pressed up against his. Their breathing was heavy – he could feel her chest heaving against his – and they were gripping each other as if they thought the other would disappear.
Staring into Natasha's eyes, Clint didn't see anger or hatred. He only saw longing. "Wow," he breathed.
Natasha nodded, breathing heavily. "Three years will do that to you."
Grinning, Clint leaned in again and placed a soft and chaste kiss upon Natasha's red lips, as if it were natural for the archer. "Now that I know you're not going to kill me, how about that coffee?" he asked.
A smile spread across her face and a breathy laugh escaped her lips. Clint released her from his grip and bent over to clean up the mess on the kitchen floor as Natasha grabbed another mug from the cabinet.
There was no telling if this was real or a figment of Clint's twisted imagination. One thing was for sure though. The archer had no worries about his psych evaluation in three days. With his Natasha back in his life, he knew it would be a breeze.
Are you still breathing? Take a deep breath. Good. Now that they've kissed, what's going to happen now? Will Natasha end things with Barnes? Will Clint and Natasha leave it at that? Or will this make things even more complicated? And will we ever find out what Clint was supposed to draw during the game of Pictionary before he stormed out!? Oh the burning questions! Stay tuned!
As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!