"So it's true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love."
― E.A. Bucchianeri
Clint purposefully marched down the corridor, after debriefing Fury on his return from his mission that morning he was looking forward to a cup of coffee and a warm shower before sinking into his deliciously comfortable bed. Coming towards him was Steve, Clint could already feel his body exuding sympathy towards the soldier and his eyes skated over the dejected man's walking form. His shoulders were slumped and rounded and his strides were slow and sluggish, like it was an effort just to move, he lacked his sparkling enthusiasm and soldier-like strength and grace that he always used to emit. Clint's eyes were drawn immediately to a bandage wrapped tightly around his right hand, bright scarlet smears scorching the stark white material, his face was cast down his eyes looked dark and the jovial, youthful righteousness that Steve usually expressed no longer remained. Their paths crossed midway and Clint stopped causing Steve to look up and address him,
"What happened Rogers?" Although Steve and Clint weren't especially close Steve could hear the concern in his voice, reaching out to him attempting to comfort him, instead it pierced him in the gut, another reminder that he must look like a wreck, a wounded shadow of the man he used to be. The man he wished he could be. A weak smile adorned Steve's lips, failing to reach his eyes; it tried to deflect the pain he truly felt, it failed,
"Oh this..." Raising his bandaged hand up slightly, feebly trying to feign the joke that he had only just noticed himself,
"... ummm just went a bit too hard at the gym that's all. It'll be fine; anyway I've got a meeting with Fury so I'll speak to you later." Placing his good firm hand on Clint's shoulder he gently advised,
"Get some rest." Before half heartedly smiling again and continuing down the hallway. Clint knew that Steve and Natasha had not been great, it wasn't hard to see, being Natasha's best friend he could see all the signs of her cutting herself off, pushing everyone away including Steve and himself.
Walking into the kitchen Clint spied Natasha sat at the breakfast bar, one foot was tucked underneath her whilst the other dangled swaying slightly as she ate her cereal. Her dark curls were pulled up into a messy bun and she wore black sweatpants paired with a white tank top. She looked slight, petite and delicate, and that scared him. Walking over he allowed a sigh to escape his lips, allowing his fatigued muscles to momentarily relax and find relief whilst also expressing his exasperation at the situation between Steve and Natasha. Walking towards her, she looked up; no welcoming smile graced her lips, no expression of warmth, just the stern and steely gaze that had become so usual now,
"Hey, how was the mission?" Looking upon her face Clint felt the uncomfortable weight of Steve's wounded and dejected expression push against his chest, as he replied courteously,
"Went off without a hitch, standard acquiring of information." With a nonchalant shrug he slumped into the stool beside her, inhaling deeply and preparing himself for the conflict he was about to undoubtedly throw himself into. Reducing his voice to a hushed and gentle tone he broached the fragile subject,
"Nat, what's going on with you and Steve? I just saw him and his knuckles were smashed to pieces, and if the awkwardness between you two isn't indication enough I can guess it's something to do with you?" With an exasperated sigh and a slight eye roll, Natasha dropped her spoon into her bowl causing a large clatter of metal on china to permeate the comforting silence of the room, before turning her head and addressing a severe and cold gaze upon Clint,
"I really don't think it's any of your business do you?" Her voice was low but rasped with a soft growl of annoyance as she grabbed hold of her bowl and swivelled off the stool, storming towards the dishwasher. Before she had reached her destination Clint stood and grasped hold of her arm turning her to face him, before addressing her through gritted teeth and an expression of clear annoyance,
"None of my business? Are you kidding me? As much as you've been trying to get rid of me you're my best friend and Steve is my team mate, so yes it is my business." As she shook his hand from her arm she slammed the bowl onto the counter before fully turning to meet Clint's enraged response, with a mocking smirk plastered upon her face,
"I thought you would have been one of the first to rejoice at the possibility of me becoming available..." Stepping forwards into Clint's personal space she brought herself uncomfortably close, before bestowing her gaze upon his lower lip, and continuing in a low sultry tone,
"Get back to how things were." At that she let a sadistic laugh erupt from her lips, amused by her teasing and taunting, as Clint stood with an expression of pure rage his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Unable to contain his frustration any longer, his unyielding gaze fixed on hers causing her to abruptly cease her chuckling, as he responded vehemently,
"I always believed that you were worth saving, always but the effect Steve had on you... he saved you in ways no one else could, in ways you didn't even know you needed. Now you can use what happened to you two as an excuse to be an asshole to him, to everyone but just remember he made you feel things you didn't even know you could. You owe him that much." Her features remained emotionless, her lips pursed tightly in a straight line, her dull olive eyes continued to bore into his, no longer possessing that spark of light that all who knew her had been enraptured by,
"Fuck off Clint." With a sharp and aggressive shove to Clint's shoulder she pushed him aside and swiftly made her way towards her room, leaving Clint standing alone. Allowing his head to tilt forward and his shoulders to slump and drop in defeat, he felt the burgeoning beginnings of a shit storm brewing.
Despite his past with Natasha he had been thoroughly accepting of her relationship with Steve, knowing full well that if he and Natasha had been suited to one another the relationship between them would have progressed beyond sex. Steve was a good honourable man who exuded honesty and virtue, something which he felt Natasha would benefit greatly from, not to say that she was innately bad but she needed someone who could draw out the goodness that she often doubted she possessed. Steve did that. His love for Natasha was pure and unforgiving, something that all the Avengers including Clint had observed, and despite assumptions it seemed that Natasha reciprocated those affections, if not in a slightly more muted manner. Clint therefore felt the bitter pang of offence at Natasha's poisonous comment regarding his underlying feelings for the spy; he respected her and Steve and had come to admire the strong and adoring relationship the unlikely pair had forged. The belief he had held that the two of them would be able to withstand distress of any kind had slowly started to wane; as he saw the destructive claws of grief contribute to the painful demise of two beloved friends. The damage he observed convinced him more and more that perhaps there was no coming back for them now.