Smile (pt. 2)

Clint…with…Tony?

As if her cleats had taken root in the artificial turf of the football field, Natasha found herself rendered immobilized by the sight of her life-long friend looking as relaxed as she'd ever seen him all while sitting directly next to his supposed enemy.

What…?

Natasha could not make sense of the image. Moving of their own volition and without direct instruction from her brain, Natasha's feet slowly propelled the rest of her body towards the bleachers, one foot in front of the other. She was vaguely aware of Bucky's voice in the background, but the fog surrounding her head rendered his words incomprehensible.

As Natasha got closer to the bleachers, Tony's lazy grin grew wider. Clint's expression, on the other hand, was partially masked by a pair of sunglasses but even those couldn't hide the half-smirk on his face.

"Iglesias for the win!" Tony cheered once Natasha had come to a stop in front of the bleachers.

Clint's head twitched slightly in his direction, but Natasha got the feeling that his eyes never left her direction—whether he was looking at her face or the one just past her shoulder was up for debate.

"That was incredible," Tony continued, hopping up from his seat and climbing down the bleachers in such a haphazard manner that Natasha was concerned for his safety.

The concern was unnecessary as Tony managed to maneuver the unforgiving metal steps with ease and land squarely in front of her with a goofy smile plastered across his face.

"Told you, you could do it!" he boasted.

Behind him, Clint was slowly making his own way down the bleachers, but his approach was decidedly more guarded.

"Hey, Nat," he said quietly once he was safe on the ground.

Natasha turned to him, wishing he would lose the damn sunglasses so she could read him.

"Clint," she said, returning his greeting with a nod.

They both fell quiet.

Tony's gaze alternated between them several times, then he clapped Clint on the back. "See man, told you this wouldn't be awkward," he said, sucking a gulp of air between his teeth. "Tsk. Yup…" he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Not awkward at all."

Clint's head twitched in Tony's direction again, and Natasha could almost feel his annoyance, only this time there was something else…something she couldn't identify.

"We need to talk," Clint said, turning back to her.

Deadpanned, Natasha replied, "Yeah. I've been hearing that a lot these last few days."

Even with the sunglasses still on, Clint's reaction to her words was perfectly visible in the way he flinched and the nearly imperceptible sagging of his shoulders.

He nodded gravely. "Yeah. I messed up last night, Nat. I was in the wrong. I'm sorry."

Natasha took this in and noted Tony's suddenly serious expression as it was said.

"Mhmm," she mused, "and what brought about this change of heart?"

Tony's hand shot up.

"Dude…" Clint sighed.

Tony's hand fell to his side.

"That's my bad," Tony said, clearly struggling to remain somber.

Clint finally removed his glasses and rolled his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"He's not wrong, though," Clint eventually admitted. He turned the full power of his best puppy dog eyes on, directing them at her. "Stark and I've been talking all night. He made me realize what an ass I've been this week. What's worse, is that it took Tony-freaking-Stark telling me the same thing you did the other day to get me to see it. I should've listened to you the first time and, for that, I am so sorry, Nat."

Natasha considered this. She looked over at Tony, who was surprisingly watching Clint with an empathetic expression. Her brain started to malfunction again.

"So, what? Are you two, like…friends now?" she asked.

"I wouldn't go that far," Clint said, shaking his head.

At the same time, Tony comically gasped and clutched his chest. "How very dare you, Miss Romanoff. I thought you knew me better than that."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Ignore him."

"Pfft. Rude," Tony joked.

Natasha was further surprised when Clint smiled a bit at Tony's antics instead of punching him in the face.

"This is…weird," Natasha admitted.

Clint's head snapped up. "Dude. You need to leave."

Natasha's gaze flicked to Tony. Instead of looking offended, he was glaring at something or someone just behind Natasha.

"Yeah, unless you want to finish what we started the other day," Tony added.

Natasha turned around and saw Bucky standing a few feet behind her. Instead of backing down from Tony and Clint's twin withering stares, Bucky moved closer until he was side-by-side with Natasha.

"I'm not here to cause trouble—"

"So, leave," Clint interrupted, taking a menacing step forward.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tony's hands ball up into fists in probable preparation for another fight.

"Hold on just a minute," Natasha announced, stepping between Bucky and her two wannabe white knights. "Just hold on. Tony, Clint, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. Isn't that what you said last night, Tony?"

Tony peeled his gaze away from Bucky's face, which had turned inexplicably pale, and his fists relaxed.

"And Clint, you literally just apologized for this, come on," Natasha continued, directing her chastisement towards her best friend.

Based on the way he looked between her and Bucky, Natasha could tell that Clint was struggling between listening to her and giving in to his need to protect her. Even she couldn't be mad at him for that. Natasha reached out and lightly touched his arm. This seemed to work, and Clint took a step back.

With her would-be saviors taken care of, Natasha turned to her ex. "Bucky, you said it yourself, there's nothing you can do or say that will make up for what you did. All of that is in the past now, and I don't want to look back anymore. And I shouldn't have to keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for you to pop up out of nowhere, begging to talk to me. You messed up, and you need to deal with that. It's not my responsibility to make you feel better by forgiving you. From now on, unless it's about football or I approach you, please leave me alone. I don't need these two playing attack dogs; you know perfectly well that I am capable of taking care of myself. Understand?"

Reluctantly, Bucky nodded.

"I'm sorry it has to be like this, but that's on you, and you need to deal with it," she finished.

Her final words were not intended to be cruel or a dismissal, but they needed to be said. She wasn't sorry about what she said but that it had to be said at all. And she definitely didn't like the crushed look on her first and only boyfriend's face.

Ex.

Ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself.

Natasha turned back to Tony and Clint. "I am starving. What do you say we go get something to eat, and you can tell me all about this long talk of yours? I'm curious to find out what you boys have planned for my life."

She batted her eyes with feigned innocence, causing both boys to go red in the face.

That'll teach 'em, Natasha thought.

"Uh, sure thing," Tony sputtered. "My treat."

Natasha shook her head. "I don't think so. I think Clint should have that honor. Isn't that right, Lil' Hawk?"

Lil' Hawk? Tony mouthed to Clint, his grin returning.

Clint ignored him and huffed, mumbling something under his breath.

"I said, isn't that right, Lil' Hawk?" Natasha repeated, struggling to maintain a neutral yet authoritative expression.

"Yes, Nat-Nat," he finally answered glumly.

"Isn't that sweet?" Natasha asked Tony. "Clint's offered to treat us."

Before Tony could open his mouth and piss Clint off, Natasha continued, "In that case, would it be okay to invite my new friends along?" she asked, gesturing towards Carol, Valkyrie, and Maria who were loitering near the end of the bleachers, watching everything unfold.

"I could eat," Maria called out.

The other two nodded.

Clint's mouth tightened into a flat line. "Sure thing, Nat-Nat."

The corner of Natasha's lips twitched. "Hey girls, Clint's agreed to treat us to a celebratory lunch. Any preferences?"

Her question was met with shrugs and a chorus of 'I don't know' and 'it doesn't matter to me'.

At this, Tony perked up. "Have you ever had shawarma? There's a shawarma joint a few miles away. I've never had it, but I've always wanted to try it."

When his suggestion wasn't met with any protests, it was decided.

"Shawarma it is," Natasha declared. "Tony, can you get the address for us? That way, we can all take our own cars."

Tony got the address as requested. Soon, they were all headed towards the parking lot, leaving behind a solemn Bucky and a concerned Steve Rogers.

Tony arrived home later that night. The house was dark and empty as usual, but he couldn't bring himself to notice. At that moment, Tony felt like dancing. The shawarma had been okay, but it was the company that had him feeling intoxicated.

As convinced as he was that his smile could light the way through a black hole, Tony moved through the house, turning on a light here and there as he went. As poetic as his sentiments were, his practical side was winning out. Even though thinking about Natasha made shine like gold, it wasn't going to keep him from tripping over his own feet, especially when the thought of her made him feel a bit dizzy.

When Tony made his way into the living room, he headed straight for the sound system and looked for the best song to describe how he was feeling. Having selected the perfect song, he flipped it on and turned the volume up as high as it could go.

The first few notes of Uncle Kracker's Smile pierced through the silence. Tony started to sway along to the melody, mouthing the lyrics as he did:

You're better than the best
I'm lucky just to linger in your light
Cooler then the flip side of my pillow, that's right
Completely unaware
Nothing can compare to where you send me,
Lets me know that it's OK, yeah it's OK
And the moments where my good times start to fade…

Soon, Tony was dancing wildly around the room, singing along at the top of his lungs:

"You make me smile like the sun
Fall out of bed, sing like a bird
Dizzy in my head, spin like a record
Crazy on a Sunday night
You make me dance like a fool
Forget how to breathe
Shine like gold, buzz like a bee
Just the thought of you can drive me wild
Oh, you make me smile"

He kept it up all throughout the song, and as it drew to a close, Tony felt like he could fly. When the last note played and the song went silent, he returned to the sound system to play it again but was stopped by the sound of slow clapping.

Tony whipped around and saw Bruce watching him with a half-amused, half-annoyed expression.

"Hey, buddy!" Tony shouted in surprise.

"Hey there, Tony. What's up?"

Tony's cheeks puffed out as he searched for an acceptable answer to Bruce's question.

"Oh, nothing much. Just felt like dancing, you know?"

Bruce said nothing but arched an eyebrow.

Tony mimed a little jig to illustrate his point.

Bruce's other eyebrow flew up. "I thought we were supposed to work on the Ultron project tonight."

Tony's stomach lurched.

Dammit!

"Hey, buddy. I'm sorry. Something came up. We can do it now if you want. Here," he said, grabbing his phone, "let me order pizza to make it up to you."

Bruce shook his head. "I'm good. I already ate while I was waiting."

Double-dammit!

Tony scrambled to find an explanation. Something, anything to make this better, but he kept coming up empty.

"So, what happened?" Bruce asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Triple-dammit!

"Uh…"

Bruce stared at Tony without blinking. The longer it took Tony to come up with an answer, the more annoyed Bruce looked. Finally, he seemed to give up and dug his phone out of his pocket while walking towards Tony.

"I get it, Tony. If I had promised I would back off when it came to a girl for my friend's sake and then completely broke that promise, I'd probably be struggling to come up with an on-the-spot lie, too," Bruce said with a sigh as he flipped his phone around.

There, on the screen, as clear as day, was a picture taken earlier by a friendly waiter:

Maria, Valkyrie, Carol, Clint, Natasha, and himself scrunched together on one side of the table, all smiling brightly at the camera.

The worst part?

His arm clearly draped across Natasha's shoulders and his head resting against hers.

"Shit."

"Yeah…"

*Song Inspiration: "Smile" - Uncle Kracker