"So what happened?" asks Clint, stepping into his and Nat's room and shutting the door behind him. At the ottoman opposite the bed Nat unzips both boots, looking up in response at him.

Now what was she to say?

It was…Well, it wasn't pleasant. She hadn't expected it to be. She hadn't expected it to be easy. Matter of fact, this was exactly what she'd expected. Pepper shouting furious and in tears, blaming and blaming Tony, asking what she did wrong, answering herself claiming she'd tried and tried, raging furious that he's said he won't, admitting more impulsively between her escalated voice where Nat concludes she'd approached Tony first.

In the rants Nat listens, moving not, speaking not. She listens, till the end where she speaks and more or less her words resemble justly Thor's, words Pepper didn't wanna hear but Nat insisted, maintained a neutral, factual tone stating they were too unalike, they wouldn't change and they don't have to, it shouldn't be this hard and how it is then this was best.

Had it worked that Pepper's tears had dried and these facts she takes to heart, dejectedly, disappointedly. Another friend might've taken her side, condemned Tony, saying she was right like it was the only thing to say because as the friend it's your job, to pat their back and wipe their tears and rage along and 'support,' as opposed to telling the truth because it's more about nursing pain than it is about addressing what had happened and what next to make.

Nat was not a typical friend and she barely understands what that means to be. She's herself when she speaks the blunt truth whether or not the more it hurts because it is the truth and Pepper must descend from her high and see it.

If she has or was yet to Nat sooner makes her leave because no more can she say or do, no more can she offer of comfort this was as far as she could go.

By heart she hopes it was enough.

Now to explain, and really she doesn't want to, not to Clint because she knows why he asks and it's not because he cares. She knows he does, but it's not the main reason.

And what she's come to learn she knows he'll cling to, say what he will of scornful exclamations she hadn't the mind to hear nor dismiss.

But like it was he'd grown silent at the decision consented upon by all where he was last asked and in retort he questions if it even matters, his say. No one spoke because further arguments would prove as unproductive. She wonders if at all his mind had changed, little as be.

Briefly nevertheless she'll explain, rising with that pair of ankle-boots pinched between her fingers to the walk-in closet.

"...Remember before Tony left, and we thought that something'd happened between him and Loki?"

"Something did." Clint wide-eyed exclaims, following her with a fast tone knowing. "They slept together didn't they?" Aside she puts her boots and turns, correcting him:

"They kissed." Out she steps then cross-armed faces him. "And according to Tony, he was gonna tell her when he came back. That he wanted to break up with her," in all fairness she had been as surprised as Clint now was hearing this.

"Really?" If it had gone down the way Pepper had described it – which Nat doubted sincerely – quite odd it is that Tony would premeditate breaking up with her, implying so serious these thoughts, these feelings for Loki that they needed careful contemplation; he was rather more impulsive than conservative.

Nodding Nat makes for the bed, talking over her shoulder as she sits at one edge. "...Half-way through I managed to piece together that. She was going to break up with him too, was in the process actually. Because she couldn't take all the. Constant worrying." Still standing Clint takes this in. "...It's possible he lied about the kiss just to spite her." There he shakes his head insisting:

"No. Whether that's what happened or Tony's underexaggerated it to a kiss," to her side he makes to sit, "something did and we both know that much." This was true enough and she was certain too.

"Did he say anything?"

"Haven't seen him since you left. Haven't asked and I doubt he'd tell me a goddamn thing," spoken quite sardonically. "You know how he gets when I dis his boyfriend." Funny as the humor in his tone Nat smirks, but these words that play out when they do are not amusing and it's more concerning the way they know it'd end very badly between he and Tony should it persist. She advises:

"You might wanna cut that out from here on out."

Quickly there that humor fades and more sternly he says: "Not a chance. Not until he sees what I see." It's a beat and Nat wonders:

"…What do you see?"

"Loki's manipulating him," answered instantly, like it's fact. "I don't know why I don't know for what. I know it's an act. Pretending to care, swoopin' in to save him, earning his trust – it's all for something, I just don't know what but I'm gonna find out." This all she acknowledges. And it isn't new, these words, these thoughts that from day one Clint's reflected, most of them too but…

…Well, much has happened.

"…And if it turns out that you're wrong?" asked carefully she expects the reaction perplexed, more irritable now he asks:

"What's with you, Nat? Why are you taking Loki's side all of a sudden?"

"I'm not, I just…" Quiet then she looks down. She's not sure what to say, how to explain it, how it is it's like she knows…

Knows what?

"…When we were on the plane. Loki was injured from the fight. Bad burn." At Clint she looks retelling plainly. "He wouldn't let anyone near him, except Tony." Hazel-green eyes grow distant in recollection. "...The way he looked at him while…" slowly now she shakes her head and here Clint hears what it is she means. "I just don't think he's faking it." Though he takes this in, considers, he finds himself persistent.

"He's the God of Mischief, Nat. Ever think he's just that good?" At him she cocks a brow and really now she wonders. Though she knows, now it feels like she's only thought she had, like there's more to it that maybe she hasn't heard before.

"...Why do you hate him so much?" Aback takes him slightly the question and stubbornly first he refutes:

"It's not about hating him, it's about…" trails off then reluctant because there's just one reason and it's always been just one.

He ponders for a beat where the wisdom lies in telling her or refraining, sooner just relents and admittedly speaks what surprisingly she's never heard indeed.

"…I had. No control over what I was doing...what I was. Thinking." In his eyes when upon her they gaze there is much. Remorse, regret, distress hoarsely then he whispers: "…I could've killed you, Nat." Slightly there Nat's eyes widen, then considerably soften. Away Clint looks, puts control to that face twisted so in a grimace of some pain, makes it plain.

How is it then Nat wonders that she's never seen this? Taken truly all along the reason was her. When he'd turned in his sleep more times since the battle was that what he dreamed of? Deep inside haunted so truly fearing, loathing.

Daintily there her hands moves to touch him, come hover atop his wrist, grazing lightly before he's turned his hand over so her smaller one's slipped in. Fingers intertwining they grip each other tightly, he afraid and she reassuring. He so scared to lose her and she clinching harder affirming her very solid presence.

Quipping then to cool his nerves she speaks: "…Might be overestimating yourself a little." Registering the reference he looks and coyly Nat sits smirking. A heartly breath of laughter escapes him and wider Nat's smile grows. In her eyes a gleam of affinity so clear it's really rare to see, there his own warm. Move his hands one pressed to the mattress, another cups her cheek and as promptly, plump, pink lips press hard against his. Fervent fingers trail through velvet red hair clutching tensely, sooner fade that soaring stress between their kiss he melts.

When they part and their eyes they lock in them are words scarcely spoken, more expressed in gestures deep as breathless kisses, small as hands held firmly, brief as one long glance.

Foreheads pressed then eyes slide shut, some seconds quiet then Nat speaks up, quietly, carefully, but…compulsively, insistently. "…Clint," it's just the way she whispers his name and already she has his full attention. "…I think you should cut him some slack." A moment processing what she'd meant before Clint pulls back, face creased in true perplexation asking coarsely:

"Why?"

Finally there it's spoken.

"Cause you gave me a chance."

Then to hear what literally she'd been implying his eyes drastically widen and quickly he must argue. "That's-" But knowing she interrupts saying:

"It's not different. You know it isn't." He wants to say it is, insist – no, she and Loki were not the same.

The circumstances maybe but…

…But point out the difference and one common will retort.

Lives they'd taken both and that's all that needs asserting. Truth there a past so dark he'd pulled her from, so dark he's seen it. Things she's done he knows she regrets so deeply even if it doesn't show…

For a beat to wonder…For a beat he asks…if in Loki there too is remorse…

…If from the dark, so dark Tony tries to pull him.

Put aside for a second the personal contempt think in sense and more alike than he'd ever prefer were their stories.

A huff of air from his nose frustrated thinking whilst along he pulls Nat into his arms and she relents, an ear to his heart as lightly Clint's thumb strokes her cheek, mind afar but heart there, of him he thinks, for her he feels. For her he tries to think because flat-out she's asked him to. So hard should he persist and refuse – he won't upset her, and the things he knows she'll say in response he can't deny nor negate.

Because all along in the back of his head he knows…Likely it's why Nat never speaks against him, likely it's why Loki never speaks to her.

All along he knows – in a way he feels is sick and twisted, or it's jealously that he knows each other they seem to understand.

…Now he tries to understand…Maybe it's time he let go and look.