Lord, what is with me and these large gaps between chapters? Hopefully I've still got some readers out there! I'm trying my hardest to break out of this rut I have found myself in because I love this story and my characters way too much to give up on them. Hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter Twelve

Clint's eyes shot open. His entire body was tight with fear and the vague memory of a nightmare gripped at his head, his heart and for a second he'd felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. His heart beat like a drum in his chest as he winced against the images and sounds that had forced their way to their surface of his consciousness. The air around him was thick and heavy and filled with the echo of the voice that sent chills running through him.

"Necessary to our victory... blood tested and true...a triumphant legacy…"

The chilling words lingered. It was Loki, the clear recognition filled Clint with nauseous anger. He sat up, still gasping for breath and swung his legs over the side of the bed in a half attempt to ground himself back into reality. He didn't know what time it was, but it appeared to still be dark out and the sounds he could hear from outside didn't indicate that it was daytime. He sighed and then pushed his face into his hands again. His pulse and breaths began to even out and gradually the shaking began to subside. The physical relief wasn't really doing much inside of his head though. Loki's evil grin was still there, tattooed in his memory, his voice as chilling and terrifying as it had always been.

The words had been said to him in a dark room, Clint couldn't identify where, but he hadn't been the only one there, but he couldn't tell you who they were either. He knew what he had done and knew who they probably were, a bunch of SHIELD enemies that barely needed a push to fight along with Loki, but beyond that, there was nothing. The knowledge sent him further inside his head, ducking under the surface once more, but suddenly a soft touch on his arm brought him back. His attention snapped behind him and Erin's tired gaze met his. Even if it was dark in the room, his eyes could make out the worried expression on her face. She knew what was going on and there was a large amount of comfort in the fact that she didn't ask him to explain it.

He didn't fight it when she gently pulled him back down on the bed or when she laid against him, her head on his shoulder and invited his arm around her. It was a silent comfort and brought more peace to him than any bottle of Jack Daniels had done. Slowly the images in his mind faded and he felt himself settle into comfortable hold she had on him. He breathed her in, closed his eyes and let his fingers stroke the soft fabric of her scrubs. Good memories, only hours old, began to replace the fucked up ones. The two of them making out with each other like they were in high school; Kissing, feeling one another up and overall just enjoying the hell out of the whole moment. He couldn't remember ever doing anything like that before. Since he was 17, if sex had been available, that's what he did. It had probably been available last night too, he didn't go forward into finding out though. Instead he just danced on the line, studying every inch of her body with hands and finding some unparalleled intimacy between their lips. He had slightly regretted the decision when it had taken all of his will power to calm his dick down after, but now after the latest episode of "The Clint Shit Show" he was grateful to have that closeness.

He was grateful to have her and he was fucking glad he had stayed.


When Clint woke up again it was clearly daytime, but he was alone in the bed. The knowledge was a slight upset, but the sound of the water running in the bathroom brought a bit of the comfort back. He got up, ignoring the pang of hungoverness that always seemed to come after one of those episodes. Rubbing at his face he got some clean clothes and quickly changed. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and left the room.

The coffee on the counter was fresh and hot and Clint grabbed at the pot, pouring the remaining contents into a mug from the shelf that said "You Go Glen Coco". The shot of caffeine helped push away some of the fog and he took another few gulps to try and rid himself of it completely. He looked around the apartment kind of taking in that "lived in" feeling he admired about the place. It had that whole modern Brooklyn thing going on; brick walls, hardwood floors, but Erin's touch in the rooms made it better, bringing a comfortable normalcy to the place.

He had taken great care in cleaning up the place the night before so his attention immediately went to the pile of textbooks and college lined notebook on the table next to the open Macbook that looked like it had taken a beating or twenty in its lifetime. Was Erin still in school? A more focused glanced over everything made him decide she was apparently crazy enough to add "Graduate School" to her list of daily demands. His respect for the woman multiplied itself by 10. After everything she had gone through and everything she did daily, she was still trying to push herself forward.

The thought was interrupted by the sudden buzz of his phone that he had put on the counter. Once and then twice, the screen lit and indicated the arrival of multiple texts. His jaw clenched, Clint swiped at the screen to see they were from Natasha.

"Hawk…"

"At least let me know that you're alive."

Clint swallowed back the guilt. He had been doing this shit to her for weeks now and it was probably time he stopped. He still felt like she was trying to sniff him out though and that was the reason he was still hesitating. He wanted to stay under the radar, but talking to her would probably help more. The dreams, visions or whatever were becoming more lucid. He felt like he had the physical strength to handle a good part of it now, but Natasha had better knowledge than he did about Loki, his powers and the world they had come from. Especially now with Thor, the golden muscle God, getting his own Avengers nametag. He knew her too well and was sure she had already pried every ounce of information she could out of Thor while simultaneously inserting herself into some big sister role to keep him in line while he was Earth side. That was Natasha's style. She took care of people, even when they didn't realize it and she would take care of Clint if he let her. She would analyze everything he remembered and solve it in minimal time like a contestant on Jeopardy with a $200 answer.

"Blood tested and true…and triumphant legacy…"

Seriously, what the fuck did that even mean? What did that bastard want.

Clint didn't think of himself as dumb, but when it came to anything involving that Asgardian crap literally all he had to go on was the minimal shit they he had been given before he had left for the desert to guard the Tesseract while Dr. Selvig studied it. That information included a folder from Fury and his own witness to the epic of saga of Thor losing his magical hammer a few years prior. Selvig also probably knew more than he did. In fact, judging by the mountains of data he collected every day, Clint was sure he knew more about it than anyone else on the planet. It didn't really hit him until that moment, but Clint hoped that guy was okay too. He had been a slight pain in Clint's ass in the desert simply because he hadn't liked being watched, but he wasn't someone who deserved to have his mind warped by Loki with a magical stone either. So far his forced memories hadn't featured the doctor, but Clint knew he had been there. Coulson had said…

Fuck, Coulson…

"Hey." Clint must have been out of it, because he hadn't even noticed Erin enter the room or get close enough to him that she was able to put a hand on his arm with the sweet word. "You okay?"

"Tired." He forced a smile with the lie.

She didn't believe him, that much was pretty damn obvious, but she smiled back at him anyway. God, she had a beautiful smile, everything just went the fuck out the window she directed it towards him. It warmed him from the heart out and pulled him closer to her. Her hair was washed, freshly dried and that intoxicating cherry blossom scent that he had come to love lingered in the air between them. She was wearing a gray and black quarter sleeved New York Yankees shirt and a worn pair of denim shorts, probably an outfit she had warn around the house for years, but to Clint was the sexiest damn thing he had ever seen. He suddenly wanted to touch her again and the longer he looked at her, the more overwhelming the urge became. She needed to do what she did last night, just cut all the middle man and jump right in for it. That had been amazing and he needed that again. Her sexy ass didn't get the memo though and she was already walking passed him and reaching into the cupboard. He took a hard breath as her amazing legs were put on display in front of him. They were perfectly toned, long and slender and he wanted to throw the damn things around his waist and….

She was looking at him again, probably had said something too, but he obviously hadn't been paying attention. "Huh?"

Erin was holding out one of the two toaster pastries that had come out of the foil packet. "Breakfast?"

Clint took it. Strawberry, plain too. Not a hint of that fake delicious icing. "What no pancakes?"

"No sex, no pancakes." She laughed and popped a piece of the pop-tart into her mouth.

The sly little quip completely broke through his fog and stopped the replay of the Clint Shit Show inside his head, probably her intent. Finding his footing, he feigned indignation, "Wait a damn minute. I don't remember agreeing to that."

She swallowed the bite, leaned against the counter, and smiled. "Get a lawyer if you like, but I think my argument will hold up in court. A satisfactory sexual encounter must be had in order to receive pancakes the next morning. It's in the contract." The quip was so perfectly done, even Erin struggled to hold her amusement in. Clint wasn't going to abandon his ideal breakfast that easily though.

"Oh that's funny to you?" he asked. "Blue Balls is a serious thing, Erin. A very real and painful thing. I barely slept last night."

She faked an apologetic look, her dark blue eyes sparkling at him. "Poor baby, you should have made the move."

"The move? When?"

"I gave you the open." She defended herself with a playful smile "Don't tell me you didn't notice it?" As she said the words she put her arms around his shoulders and gave him a look that was one part sweet and one part seductive. "I did the back arch, wrapped my legs around your waist…remember?"

It was playful flirtation, Clint knew that, but hell if he didn't feel the ties around his heart pull tighter…and his dick fully strain against his jeans.

"We might need to talk about this," he said, moving his hands up her sides. "I don't like to play games."

Erin smiled, pressing herself into him. "You're playing one right now."

Clint feigned a scowl, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Shut up, woman." he got out before his mouth came down on hers, teasing those perfect lips open and letting the surge of heat cover him. Kissing her was definitely his new favorite thing, he could this for hours, fuck he could do it for days. He could do it for the rest of his life…

Clint's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of the Imperial March behind him. He paused and pulled back, remembering the last time he had heard music in his head when kissing Erin. John Williams was definitely an improvement from Nelly, but it was still strange. Erin's expression went from freshly kissed to "Whoops" in a second.

"My phone, it's my dad." She patted his chest, "Hold on, okay?" she dashed to the table where her phone sat next to her books and answered it on the second round of Darth Vader's anthem. He'd never say it aloud, but Clint was somewhat thankful the distraction. His thoughts had begun to drift into an area he wasn't sure he wasn't to be in yet. Kiss Erin for the rest of his life? For fucks sake, that was insane even for him. How long had he known her? Two weeks? You didn't fall for a woman that fast. You didn't think about forever or crave their presence. You didn't flirt with one another over pop tarts and pancakes in the relaxed atmosphere of the kitchen on a summer morning either. You definitely don't do that…

Clint turned and looked at Erin. She was leaning against the white lacquered table, the phone to her ear, the conversation with her dad on the other end of the line fluid and familiar. She smiled when Clint caught her eye and despite what he had just argued in his head, Clint's heart and soul clenched, threw their hands up in surrender and accepted that he was in love in Erin.