A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the lovely reviews! :) This series is my first fanfiction ever, so reviews are welcome :) Let me know what you think, and tell me what you think might happen next!

Clint didn't really know what to say. To be fair, he hadn't particularly talked to Barnes before, and he had absolutely no clue why Barnes wanted to talk to him in the first place. So he just decided to respond with cold indifference. "James Barnes." he said, walking over to Natasha's room, and closing it.

Barnes was a tall, thin man. To be fair, he was rather handsome looking, and Clint wouldn't be surprised if he was to hear that Natasha had been romantically involved with him at one point of time. He had an American Accent, but with the amount of time he'd spent in Moscow, there was a slight tinge of Russian tied in there.

James Barnes looked in Clint's direction curiously. "Whose room is that? Is that Natalia's room?" he asked, turning to face the archer, who was now leaning against the wall.

"Cut the crap. Why are you here?" Clint asked coldly, glancing at his watch quickly. Five minutes was all he had before Natasha would call. He was sure she would call. Barnes was curiously looking at a frame in his hands. He slowly made his way to the living room, and Clint followed him. He turned around, holding the picture up. "Where was this?" he asked, holding up the picture that had been hung up in the kitchen wall.

It had been in Sydney. Natasha had been working an office undercover job, and Clint had been there to make sure she remained safe. Basically, they both worked, surveying the area. They'd gone sightseeing, and the photo had been taken by a lovely couple who thought they looked 'cute'. Natasha had scoffed, but Clint and gently prodded her waist, telling her to keep quiet and not to attract attention. That had been five years ago.

"Sydney." he said, quietly. "Why are you here?" he repeated, enunciating each of his words with more emphasis. Barnes sighed, nodding, and pocketing the frame. Clint did not comment. He simply eyed the photo as it disappeared. "I have a proposition for you, Barton." Barnes said, folding his arms across his chest, and stalking to the other side of the room, looking at the books on the shelves. When Clint did not say anything, Barnes continued. "As you know, Natalia's been looking for me for the past few months. Five, to be exact." he muttered, looking around. "And I know she wants to kill me. She won't join the Red Room- she won't come back." he said, his eyes raking Clint's body. "And the reason for that is..you."

Clint raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Sure, Natasha and I care, but she has enough sense not to join those bastards. Clint opened his mouth as if to say something, but Barnes just continued. "You see, Clint, I've known Natalia for years. Eighteen, to be precise. And I know when she cares about someone. Loves someone." That got Clint's attention. He folded his arms across his chest.

"Natasha and I care about each other. We're partners, and that means we stick around." he said defiantly. "I don't expect you to understand." he muttered irritably. Barnes raised an eyebrow. "Wait for my proposition, Mr. Barton." he said quietly. "I'm offered to give you anything. Whatever the hell you want. Money? So be it. A new house?" Barnes looked around the old apartment in distaste, but Clint wanted to keep it. Sometimes, the older objects were the more important.

He shook his head, and smirked at Barnes. "I don't want any of that." he said, simply. His phone suddenly buzzed. He furrowed his eyebrows and picked it up.

"Barton." he said gruffly, his eyes never leaving Barnes. "Oh, Tasha. It's you." he mumbled.

Natasha was on the other line, sounding livid. She sounded like some bastard had just shot her in the foot. She sounded...worried.
"Where the hell are you? Is he gone?" she asked, pacing her room frantically.

Clint shook his head subconsciously, and then realized she wasn't around. "No. Still here. Look, I'll call you back, okay?" he muttered, and put the phone down, just as he heard Natasha say, "No, Clint, don't you fucking dare-"

He threw the phone down on the couch, and let his hands fall to his sides. Barnes shrugged.

"Let me ask you something, Barton. Do you love her?" he asked, his lips pursed. His eyes never left Clint's as he waited for a response patiently.

"What?"

"Do. You. Love. Her?"

Barton clenched his fists into tight balls for a couple of seconds, choosing how to react. "What does it matter to you? If I love her or not?" Barnes looked at Clint sympathetically. "You don't know the past she's lived, Clint. It's horrific. She's not the person you think she is."

"Let me decide that." Clint growled, moving over to his cupboard to grab his jacket, walking to the door. "Let yourself out, if you don't mind." he muttered.

Barnes strode to the door, shutting it quickly, just as Clint pulled it open. "Let me make this simpler for you. I have a bomb planted somewhere in New York." he said, his voice barely audible. He pulled out a small controller from his pocket. "And it can go off whenever I want it to."

Clint stood up straight. "Give me that." he said, quickly, making a grab for it, but Barnes was too quick.

He simply shook his head, standing by the bookshelf now. He was fast. "It takes two to make something work, Clint. I want something in return."

Barton stood there, standing over Barnes, who looked too calm to be living. "What?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Barnes stood up, pocketing the controller again. "You're going to leave. Get out of New York, go to Russia, I don't fucking care. She can't find you. She won't find you. But I want Natasha to see that you're gone. And you don't care. And you don't love her."