"Well, that could have gone better." He said aloud to himself. Though people were not really his strong suit. That's why he got along so well with Nat and Banner. Well..when Banner was still around and not MIA.

He tended to deflect real conversations with jokes and sarcasm.

He left the talking to people like Sam, Stark, and Steve. Hell, even Vision seemed to have better people skills than he did.

Clint was just trying to be polite. He didn't want to bother her. Especially after he almost attacked her.

Damn hearing aids. He really needed to remember to turn them on more often. Walking over to the glass door he snuck a stealthy glance outside.

She was still there. Now she was positioned on the floor among the pillows, laptop on and her typing rigorously with headphones in her ears.

He briefly studied her out on the balcony but now he could do it more thoroughly. Brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of black-framed eyeglasses. The color of her dark brown hair reminded him of espresso beans. Though sometimes when she moved her head and the light caught her hair, she had hints of deep chestnut within her curls.

Her hair was a deep contrast from her ivory skin. It almost made him think she resembled Snow White. A movie that Stark had all forced them to watch.

He watched her eyes dart across the screen with concentration. Clint wondered what she did for a living. By the black flared skirt and purple blouse, he would guess somewhere professional.

After he watched her gather her past the shoulder-length curls and put them into a ponytail, he decided he was bordering on creepy by just standing there watching his new neighbor. Turning around he left the door and went into the living room.

Dorothy/ Dottie/ Dot.

She was awkward and flustered at the same time when she spoke to him. Clint didn't mind though. He was awkward too.


It had been closing in on a week since I had last seen Clint after our awkward encounter on the balcony.

The guy knew how to avoid someone that's for sure.

Or maybe he liked to be by himself. Maybe he was scared. Or he was running from something. Even my less than genius deduction skills could tell from our brief encounter that something was keeping him guarded. He was hiding something.

But then weren't we all. I was the last person in the world who could judge someone on that. People's pasts were in the past for a reason.

If Clint wanted to be left alone that's fine. Not like it mattered to me.

Even if I did like looking at his pale green eyes.

Whatever I didn't need any distractions. These last few days at work had been exhausting. Diana was stacking files upon files on me that needed cataloging. It was pointless busywork, but it needed to be done, and who better to do it than the young, still slightly new girl.

I had hoped after the first several weeks Diana, my boss, would ease up on her hatred for me.

Nope.

Six months of working at the Smithsonian Museum of American History and she still despised me. To her, I didn't belong there. A fact she always made clear time and time again in her petty ways.

Her boss, however, Jude, actually liked me, and was the main reason I was hired.

Pushing all of the work crap out of my head I unlocked my apartment door and shut it with a firm close. Leave all that stuff out there. Don't bring it into where you live.

Dropping my bags I went to the kitchen and pulled my Brita out of the fridge. Walking over to the sink I turned on the faucet to fill it up.

The pipes made this gurgling sound a few times before I heard something pop and explode. Bending down I opened the cabinet doors. The next thing I knew water was gushing out of the now disconnected pipe under my sink.

"Oh crap!" Shrieking as I became soaked with water. Closing the doors I ran to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of towels and sprinted back to the puddle that was growing larger on my kitchen floor.

Getting soaked once again I wrapped a few towels around the open pipe. That slowed down the flow of water momentarily, but I had to do something. I had thought about calling Pops but by the time he got here, I might have a Noah's Ark situation on my hands.

I had some handyman skills but not enough to fix this. It was after five so the super would be unreachable.

Looking down at the floor and the towels that were becoming soaked I took a chance in sheer desperation.

Going out onto the balcony I went over to Clint's door and knocked as loudly as I could.

"Oh please be home." Praying as I dripped in front of his door.

Some moments later a confused Clint appeared at the glass door and opened it. No doubt taking in my drenched state.

"Hi, do you know anything about plumbing?" Getting right to it.

"What?" His perplexion at my question hitting right on the money.

"The pipe under my kitchen sink just exploded and now it's two pipes and I have no idea what to do! Do you think you could help me before my apartment goes underwater!" Rushing out as I felt more water droplets drip from my hair.

Clint was silent for a few seconds as he no doubt took in the crazy woman before him.

"Let me get my tools." He finally said.

Letting out a sigh I thanked him as I waited for him out on the balcony. When he came back he caught me mid movement of wringing my hair of water.

"It's been a long day." Sighing in embarrassment.

Clint gestured to my balcony door indicating for me to lead the way. Walking back into my apartment I was acutely aware that he was behind me. I was also praying my apartment wasn't messy, not remembering when I last cleaned.

Clint shut the door behind him as I went into the kitchen stopping in front of the sink where the towels were now completely soaked, and the puddles had gotten larger.

"Well, first we should probably shut the water off." He said as he reached under the sink and turned the water valve.

Putting down his toolbox I helped him unwrap the towels and stared with him as we both looked at the disjointed pipe.

He was silent and I was silent as I watched him study the problem at hand.

After a minute he concluded, "It should be an easy fix." Then he got down on the floor and laid with his back on the wet towels and studied under the sink.

"Just let me know what you need." Taking a seat down next to him with his toolbox at the ready "I have some knowledge on home repair. Pops insisted when I moved out on my own, but this is beyond me."

For a while, we both were quiet with his occasionally telling me what tool he needed as he worked in the cabinet under the sink.

The position made me unable to see his face and I had no idea what he was thinking. He was probably annoyed that he had to spend his evening helping his idiotic neighbor.

After some time the silence got to be too much. I was in desperate need for sounds. Even if it was one-word responses.

Studying him I wondered what I could talk about with him. I noticed him wearing a Queen T-shirt. Nice, something that could be common ground.

"So do you like them or do just have the t-shirt?" Asking him to break the quiet.

"What?" Clint stopped and raised his head to stare at me.

"Your Queen shirt. Do you like them or do you just have the shirt as something to wear?" Gesturing to his clothes.

"No, I love Queen," Clint said before getting back to work.

"Oh me too." Speaking "I'm a lover of all things '80s. I can thank my mom for that."

He went back to being quiet and my heart sank.

But then he spoke, "What are your favorite songs?" He asked me while he worked.

I tried not to smile as my plot for keeping the conversation going worked.

"Besides the obvious choices of Bohemian Rhapsody, We Will Rock You, and We Are the Champions. I love Somebody to Love, Radio Ga Ga, Don't Stop Me Now, and Hammer to Fall." Responding.

"All good songs. Though I would add Another Bites the Dust, and I Want it All." Clint said to me.

"Do you have a favorite member? But you can't say Freddie Mercury." Smiling.

"John Deacon hands down. He is so underrated since he left the band. I mean he wrote Another One Bites the Dust." Clint said with a tone of passion and it made me smile.

"What about you?" He asked as he got up from under the sink and sat up across from me.

"Brian May. I mean the guitar riff in We Will Rock You will forever be iconic." Sternly saying.

Clint studied me for a moment which made my skin itch at being scrutinized.

"How old are you?" Was what he asked me.

My eyebrows rose "You expect a lady to give her real age?"

His face held a shocked expression. Too quickly he was trying to back peddle with an apology but broke out laughing.

"Sorry just messing with you. I just turned 26." Grinning at him.

Surprisingly, he smiled back.

"What about you?" Questioning.

"A real lady never tells." He joked back, and it caused me to dissolve into laughter.

"Touché." My smile growing wider when he began to join in with his own chuckles.

"I'm 33." He smirked.

After the laughter died down, we stared at each other with light smiles. There was silence, but it was different from before. Contented. Nice.

It felt nice.

But then Clint cleared his throat and stood up. I don't know why, but I felt disappointed.

"I think it should be working now." He told me as he turned on the tap as he examined the sink and waited for something to break.

The water came out fine and nothing exploded again.

Success!

"Oh thank you so much!" Giving out a relieved grin.

"No problem, glad I could help." He said as he began packing his tools and I began to gather the wet towels.

"If there is anything you never need or if I can ever repay you please let me know." Telling him as he was about to leave.

He waved me off "You don't need to repay me." Sheepishly saying.

Again silence. We both shifted from one foot to the other as nothing was said.

"Well have a goodnight." He eventually said.

"You too, thank you again." Telling him as he opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. He gave me a small wave after he shut the door before disappearing from my sight.


That was definitely not how Clint imagined he would spend his evening. Helping Dorothy fix her broken sink and bonding over their love of Queen.

He was beyond surprised and confused when she showed up at his balcony door dripping like a wet dog, frantic and overwhelmed.

He didn't mind helping her though. It wasn't like he had any big plans that night. It was awkward at times when they were both quiet and they both didn't know what to say.

Clint had been actually racking his brain for something, anything to say when Dorothy broke the ice and talked about Queen.

He realized he liked speaking to her. She was pleasant company. He had never been a people person but at least with the team, he could be with them and not have to say anything, but still feel included. These past couple of weeks by himself he had been missing human interaction.

He didn't even realize what he had been missing until he spent some time with Dorothy tonight. He liked that she knew how to joke. He liked that he could smile and have it feel genuine.

Then he had to leave on a clumsy note. He could sense it. They both could. When he got home he found himself chastening himself for not being more sociable with her.

He kept going over what he could have done different, or other things they could have talked about. Or something different he should have said.

As the night ran on however and the midnight hours went by he began to wonder why he was fixated on this so much.

Why did he care?

It kept nagging at him but he couldn't figure it out.