"Natasha?" Clint was chasing after her in the hallways of Stark Towers, but every time he turned the corner, she was already turning down the next. He'd seen her come out of the residential floor looking distraught, and Natasha Romanoff with tears in her eyes was usually a horrible precursor of things to come, but when she simply hurried away from him instead of trying to kill him he knew this was something more.

Finally, she reached a dead end. Clint approached on her slowly, knowing better than to corner her too quickly and expect her to receive him well. He made a quick assessment of her belt and saw that she had only one gun and a few knives, and that she was not poised to reach for any of them.

"Tasha?" He stepped closer, only five feet away from her now. She had one hand covering her face and the other wrapped around her waist protectively. He came up to two feet away before she spun around and flung him into the opposite wall, her arm coming up to pin his neck in place, blocking off his airway.

Her eyes were red and he knew they'd soon be puffy. He had the urge to comfort her but knew it'd be useless. She never lets him in, and when she does it's for a purpose to her advantage.

Just as he began to see black dots in his vision, she released him and briskly spun around, walking off.

Clint braced himself on his knees and caught his breath, watching as she retreated off to somewhere he knew he wouldn't have access to. He sighed and headed to his own room, the weariness of the day taking its toll on him. When he was told they would he housing Loki, he was less than thrilled. As a matter of fact, he may or may not have thrown up a few times in panic. His foot never stopped tapping until Thor, Bruce, Tony and the offending factor appeared in the living area. Then, he stealthily took in Loki's appearance and felt a tad less threatened.

But he never stopped hating him. Once they'd left the room, Natasha had led him into a small alcove outside of the main area and made sure he was fine. For the most part, he was. She smacked him for being so idiotic as to stand in front of her during the confrontation, but softened as he shrugged and explained to her, "I won't let what happened to me happen to you. Deal with it."

On his way back to his rooms, he thought of ways he could get Natasha to open up. He knew for a fact that if he needed anything, she'd be there for him in the most intimate ways. So maybe, he thought, I'm the one who needs consoling. He formulated his plan down to the minutest detail and by the time he was in his room, lying on his bed, he was ready.

Pepper wasn't sure where Tony was, but he was late. He had a scheduled conference call at 8 pm and she absolutely could not reschedule this. Her heels clicked down the hallways as she poked her head in every door to check for him. Even the closets. She knew there was a possibility that he was tied up with Loki, but she'd made sure Loki was fine the day before, giving Thor strict instructions on how to feed him the soup she'd gotten. She set out fresh clothes for him which Thor promised to change him into, and she even got her hands on a bottle of pain killers that she told Thor he could crush up and put in some juice. Tony had no excuse.

"Tony!" She spotted him turning a corner and sped up. She caught up to him and spun him around, ready to give him hell. "You are not skipping out on—"

"Come on I know you can reschedule this it's not even that im—"

"Don't you dare say it's not important Tony Stark do you know how much I went through just to get—"

"Yes." Tony said simply. "You probably went through hell in a hand basket just to get this conference. But I'm busy."

Pepper stared at him incredulously. "Doing what Tony?"

"I'm going to, uh, I have this thing that needs," He sighed.

"Right. So important." Pepper crossed her arms.

"Look," He grabbed her by the shoulders and ignored her slight push. "I need a break. I've been with a fucked up god and his fucked up god brother all morning and I'm not quite sure but I think Natasha had an emotional break down while she was trying to kill him. I just want to have a drink and pass out."

Pepper was silent, squinting at him skeptically. Then she saw that he really was exhausted looking and shook her head angrily. "Fine."

She turned around and walked down the hallway, thinking of excuses as to why Tony Stark wasn't available for the third time this month.

Clint laid in his bed, face down and waiting to hear Natasha's shoes come down the hallway. They shared a bedroom in Stark Tower, and Clint knew even the mighty Natasha had to rest sometime. He pulled his hand up behind his head and started his show the second he heard the click of her slight heels. His forehead drew together, his lips pursed, and his hands clenched into fists. The door opened gently, Natasha thinking he was asleep.

"Tasha?" He lowered his voice as much as it would go without sounding fake. He mimicked exactly how he'd sound on those restless and tear filled nights in which he relived the time he was under Loki's control.

Natasha's footsteps hastened a bit and she came to stand next to his side of the bed. Without saying a word, and without him having to look up and give the best puppy eyes he could summon, she started taking off her leather suit and shoes, leaving them in a pile. Once she was stripped to her underwear and bra, she climbed over Clint and slid under the covers, first twining their ankles together and then putting her arms around his upper body. Clint happily nestled into the crook of her neck and relaxed. It was long before he felt her body relax a bit too, and he knew his plan was working.

Eventually, after a few minutes of gentle footsies and light, opened mouth kisses on her shoulder, Natasha spoke up.

"I tried to kill him."

What shocked Clint was not her confession; it was normal for Natasha to kill people on a daily basis, and he knew full and well who she was talking about. What shocked him was the fact that she "tried" and did not succeed. Then he noticed the way her shoulders had tensed up, and he didn't dare brave a look up to her face to see if she was crying, he knew that that'd scare her away. So instead, he sighed and pressed his mouth to her neck gently. "We all fuck up missions sometimes, Tash. Don't sweat it."

She shook her head but didn't move to make eye contact. "No, Clint," her voice was an octave higher than usual, Clint noticed "I couldn't. I tried to shoot him. I had him in front of me, immobilized, but I just couldn't do it." As her sentence progressed, her voice got angrier and so did Clint.

"So you mean to tell me you're feeling sympathy for that prick?" He pulled away from her and glared at her red rimmed eyes.

She scoffed. "Of course. Typical." She rolled off the bed and went straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and locking it.

Clint didn't move for a second, replaying what had happened over again in his mind. 'Okay, maybe that was a little insensitive' was what he concluded. He sighed and face palmed. It would take approximately five hours to get Natasha out of the bathroom. He was in for a long night.