Chapter one
It's been 26 days since they defeated Thanos. Not that he'll ever admit that he's still counting the days. Nor will he ever admit why he's still counting the days. It's been 26 days since he almost lost her. The woman he loves. The woman who, for years, he considered to be his best friend, his family. Every morning he wakes up, still believing she died. Because that is what he sees in his dreams. And every morning the reality proves him wrong. She is still very much alive. Natasha Romanoff is still alive and staying here in his house.
He wanted her to come with him to his house. They were both still shaken by her almost dying. The fight with Thanos's army didn't leave them unharmed and the only home she ever knew was destroyed in battle.
Turns out the universe pulled a sadistic joke on him. On them, really. Because his wife, his Laura, somehow didn't come back from the ashes. To this day no one knows why. His kids came back, his friends came back yet she didn't.
But he has to admit that he already mourned her. He grieved, he cried, he fought his way through the world to bring his family back. As horrible as it sounds, the most precious part of his family did come back. His kids came running towards him when the quinjet touched the ground. That's when he knew everything was worth it. He looked at the faces of Cooper, Lila and Nathaniel and he knew that these three were the reason why he did what he did. To get to this point.
He realised his wife didn't make it back when Lila asked if he knew where her mom was. When Natasha asked if she didn't appear where she disappeared and Lila shook her head no, Clint knew he'd never see his wife again. The expected heartbreak on his side didn't come. The heartbreak of his kids on the other hand… Clint was even more relieved than he already was to have Natasha there.
Somehow they worked as a team around the house. Comforting three kids who just lost their mother. Cleaning up the house as no one had really been there for five years. Making sure everybody was clean and fed and in bed at the end of the day. Then it would be just them. That's the routine they held onto for the last three weeks. For everyone in the house this routine was important. It kept them sane. It gave them some kind of structure.
Clint and Natasha would talk almost every night after the kids went to bed. It only happened once that they were in their own bed before 2 a.m. During those talks Clint started to realise something. He liked having Natasha in his home. He loved it, actually. He loved how easily they fell in a domestic rhythm. But he also saw how traumatised Natasha was by the events of the past five years. She didn't speak of it though. The dark circles around her eyes grew darker by the day. The whimpers he heard every night grew louder each night. The moments she went outside to be alone became more frequent each day.
He knew she was going to crack. He knew it wouldn't be long. And today, after he brought his kids to school and came back to the house, he knew it was going to be the day Natasha lost the battle against her bottled up emotions. Clint saw it in her eyes when he looked at her sitting on the porch. Even from a distance he could see the tears in her eyes. She's sitting on the couch that's on the porch, her knees pulled up, feet on the couch and her arms wrapped around her legs. She looks so small, so broken. So very unlike the Natasha he knows. He softly approaches her and sits down beside her. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't touch her. He just looks at her pale face. He waits patiently for her to talk. Finally, after who knows how long, she speaks.
'It's my fault'.