CHAPTER FOUR

He must have slept for a very long time, because when Clint was finally awakened from a mostly peaceful sleep, his eyes were blinded by painfully bright light. His stomach turned as he immediately thought of the light from his dreams, but as the effects began to wear off and his eyes adjusted, he realized that it was the noontime sun coming in through the windows he had forgotten to cover. Groaning heavily, he pushed himself out of bed and pulled the curtains shut. He felt much better once he realized that the dreams had only started a short while before he had awakened. The drugs must have put him so far under that they had made him sleep like a rock. He was sorely tempted to go back to sleep, still feeling as if he needed a few more hours, but that could wait for now.

Someone knocked on his door just then, and he opened it with the chain still locked, as he always did, to see Natasha on the other side, as before. She looked as if she had been worrying, but when she saw him, she smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat, and said, "Get some sleep?"

"Yeah," he said, leaning his forehead against the door post and already knowing her next question.

"Did you take my advice," her tone gave the 'told you so' impression she was obviously biting back.

"Yes," he replied.

"And?" she really was trying to rub it in, he guessed.

"It worked well," he said, taking in Natasha's almost smug expression.

They were both silent for a moment, and Clint hoped she did not realize he was probably gazing at her with a strange expression on his face. Then Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "Well, aren't you going to invite me in, or have I lost that right?"

He smirked, glad there was the door between them at this point because he was fighting back the desperate urge to kiss her. "Of course you have," he responded while unlocking the chain.

As soon as he had opened the door fully, she walked in and took a seat on his couch, motioning for him to join her. He observed that her face had resumed its usual serious look and braced himself for the worst as he took the offered place and clasped his hands in front of his knees, "What's wrong?"

Natasha raised her eyebrows, then answered, "You know, I'm sure we could make Tony understand if you don't want him in your mind. I know you've been worrying about that."

"Mind reading hasn't been invented yet, and what do I have to hide? Nothing Tony could do would be any worse than what I went throughout Loki," he tried to be indifferent, but inside, he wondered if he was wrong.

Deciding that he most certainly did not want to talk about the last part, she gave him a look and asked, "What do you have to hide?"

Clint just shook his head, returning her look, with a mysterious smirk, "Nothing."

"You are lying, Clint Barton," Natasha stated, "But if you really don't trust me, then alright."

He nudge her, "You're so unfair."

"But really, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one would force you into what they're asking of you," she said, placing one of her hands over his, which were still clasped together and sending an electric spark through his body.

For a moment, he just looked at their hands, knowing he should not be so affected by it but not being able to block out how much he enjoyed her touch. One of his thumbs subconsciously brushed gently back and forth along her hand as he thought through what he wanted to say. Natasha pretended not to notice the gesture, but Clint could almost feel the surprise radiating from her when he realized what he was doing. He really had no desire to stop, though, and he continued to stroke her hand with his thumb as he turned to her and spoke slowly, "What else can I do? If I'm the only one of us who knows enough about this guy to stop him, and this may be the only way to get the information..."

His voice trailed off, and he hoped Natasha knew what he was trying to say. She squeezed his hands gently in response and whispered, "You're not weak, Clint. Everyone has secrets, and, I'd venture to say, if any one of us was put in your position, we would not be nearly as resolved as you are. You are the strongest person I have ever met, and your choice in this won't change that."

At that moment, Clint felt so elated have had to force himself to keep a straight face. She really had just said all of that. His mind immediately registered something:

I love you, Natasha Romanoff.

It came without warning, and startled Clint by how certain it was, but there was no way he was going to let her hear it. These thoughts of her were giving him more serious doubts about having someone in his mind. If she found out, he knew their friendship would be awkward, and she was the best friend he had ever had. But he realized the look on his face was probably at least giving her suspicions.

"I...have to," he replied, finally.

Her eyes showed the worry she was trying to hide, "If that's the way you want it," she paused, then said, "Want to go somewhere for dinner? If you knocked yourself out, I doubt you've eaten in a while."

His mind froze completely. Had she just asked him out? No, he was over-reacting in the strange state he was in, they had been friends for enough time that they had gone out to eat together before, but still, "Um, sure," he hated the off note in his voice. Where had that come from? Clint Barton did not talk like that.

Natasha stood and said, "Well, come on, then."

As he rose to his feet, he grabbed the belt with his gun holster and pistol, which was hanging nearby, and strapped it on. When he looked up, he could not help but notice the odd look in Natasha's eyed. She did not question his actions, and he could tell that she at least partially understood his motives. He would have preferred to have his bow with him, but, as they would probably not be gone for long, he thought it might be too cumbersome.

Without another word, they both walked to the door, and, after Clint had unlocked the door, they left the apartment.

"Where do you want to go?" Natasha asked, glancing over at Clint as they reached his car. He opened the door for her and stepped back, earning a curious look from his friend.

"Doesn't matter to me," he said, then got into the driver's seat and turned to her, "Where to?"

They ended up at an Italian restaurant after a rather short discussion, but Clint was finding it nearly impossible to focus with Natasha sitting across from him, occasionally looking up and meeting his dark eyes, which were more often than not fixed on her. It did not matter that he was even more paranoid now about her knowing of his new feelings, he could not have done anything about it. Either way, Natasha was acting normal, so he guessed she would attribute any strangeness in his behavior to either lack of sleep or something else to do with the past two months.

Then he remembered something, "There was someone else there," he murmured, sounding as if his mind had drifted back in time.

Natasha looked up, "Excuse me?"

"In the warehouse, or wherever. There was someone else - a woman, I think, but I couldn't make out what she was saying," he clarified.

Natasha's face had taken on a contemplative expression, but he could see the almost horror in her eyes, "They had more victims?"

Clint bit his lip in thought for a moment, then responded slowly, "I don't remember much, but I don't think so. She sounded too...sane."

"But you couldn't see her?" Natasha pressed.

Clint winced as he said, "I could barely focus on anything."

Natasha touched his right forearm, which was resting on the table in front of him and her expression was apologetic as she said, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, no need for you to be sorry," he said, taking in her soft green eyes as they met his. They rarely looked so vulnerable, so expressive, but right now, there was so much emotion he could not help but wonder if she just might feel about him the way he did about her. He did not let this idea stay more than a split second, though, realizing that if he could read her eyes, she could probably do the same to his. Her soft hand on his skin did nothing to make keeping his emotions invisible any easier, however.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, and then they both went silent again. It was more of an understanding silence than it was an awkward silence. Clint's left hand vaguely covered Natasha's, which was still on his arm, but neither of them really seemed to notice it. There had always been silent times like this between the two of them in the years they had known each other, times when silence spoke a thousand words, and neither of them minded it.

After a few minutes, however, Natasha checked her watch and announced that she had a meeting and had to go. Even as he released her other hand, Clint felt the rising urge to say something, to do something just to show her how much he cared about her, but he pushed it down, instead giving a simple, "Good luck."

Natasha beamed at him for the first time in so long he had forgotten what that expression looked like on her. He let himself just take in that moment, trying to imprint in his brain the way her eyes lit up, and her perfect lips formed the most amazing smile he had ever seen. His heart was racing twice its normal speed. As strange as these new feelings were to him, he could not deny that, despite the fact that they were obviously hopeless, they did feel...really good.

Then she waved and left, a completely smitten Clint Barton just gazing after her with an expression of the utmost longing on his face.