Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sadly.
A/N: Chapter 7. Sorry it took so long, I had so much work to do and I haven't felt inspired to write anything recently. This may not have been what you were expecting... Hell, it wasn't even what I was planning to write but it just sort of went this way and no matter how much I tried to write it differently it always ended up like this... ;(
Chapter 7 – A Hollow Victory.
Natasha Romanoff pushed her partner into her room and slammed the door behind her. Smacking her palm against it aggressively when she realised Tony had his ear pressed up against the door. She heard a tiny whimper on the other side of the door and listened as the sound of footsteps faded away down the hall. She looked over her shoulder at her partner, Clint Barton, who was now pouting and rubbing at his arm.
"Ow. What the hell, Nat? That hurts," he whined, prodding at his arm.
Natasha rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a baby, Barton." Refocusing, she fixed her icy glare on him, turning to face him fully. "What the hell are you doing back here?"
Clint looked down at the floor and grinned his classic schoolboy grin before hopping up onto her bed and stretching out, his arms folded behind his head. He shrugged. Natasha growled and shoved him off, so he landed in a heap on the floor. "Don't put your muddy shoes on my bed. It'll be a bitch for me to clean."
The archer pulled himself up onto his hands and knees and shook himself slightly. He paused and stared down at the ground, hiding a sly smirk from Natasha. He had an idea. In an instant, he was up and on his feet. He grabbed the Russian's wrists and pinned her to the wall, his expression turning dark. She looked up at him, noting his narrowed eyes and set jaw. His eyes might as well have been black as they darkened in rage. She blinked at him, unfazed. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn the man was more bipolar that she was.
"You know I can easily throw you off me, right?" she remarked dryly, raising an eyebrow at him – not the least bit surprised by his futile attempts to distract her. Clint smirked.
"I don't doubt it for a second, Romanoff." She winced slightly as his breath tickled her face.
"Well then," she said simply, smiling calmly up at him before swiftly kneeing him in the gut. Caught completely off guard, the archer reeled backwards, clutching at his stomach. He looked up at her and narrowed his eyes.
"What the hell, Tasha?" he growled out, sucking in a breath and straightening out. He lifted his arm to pin her again, but the Russian grabbed it and twisted it round until he conceded. Natasha merely stared at him as he whimpered, her serene mask firmly back in place. "Stop trying to fight me, Barton. You're not charming your way out of this one."
The spy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why are you doing this, Clint? You know you should be in SHIELD medical right now. You can't just keep going against their rules all the time." Clint groaned and rolled his eyes, turning away from her.
"Oh, because you've never disobeyed anyone have you, Tasha?" he scoffed. Natasha narrowed her eyes at him.
"But this is serious, Clint. You never follow protocol after missions. You never go to the post-mission debriefs, you pass the paperwork along to some junior agent and you never come in to the base unless absolutely necessary. Now this. How much more of this do you think Fury is going to take, Clint?" She sighed and her tone became slightly softer. "He's going to kick us out so fast it'll make our heads spin."
Clint looked leant back against the wall, folding his arms and averting his gaze. "He won't kick us out, Tasha. We're too good at what we do. He needs us."
"Maybe, but he can end our partnership in a flash, Barton."
The archer's eyes snapped up to meet hers. He looked at her for a moment, searching her face. "He wouldn't do that to us," he said quietly, almost to himself. Maybe Natasha was right. Their partnership was everything to him; he didn't want to lose it. Not over this. They were the perfect team and they both knew that if he kept acting the way he was they were going to be reassigned.
Natasha softened slightly. She didn't want to be punishing her partner. Hell, if she had been in his position she would have busted out of there much sooner. Clint was known for his never ending patience with people, but he was also known for his reckless behaviour. He had never spent more than a day in SHIELD medical before this – not even when he had been shot – so Natasha could sort of understand why he made a break for it.
Sighing, the Russian ran a hand through her hair. Why was he so goddamn impossible? She cursed under her breath. She wanted so badly to be mad at him, but Barton was so damn hard to stay mad at. Now she was going to have to deal with Maria. Perhaps if they could get some sort of deal set up, herself and Clint may be able to go on some light-weight missions. There was no way in hell that she was going to babysit Barton. That man was worse than a freaking toddler. He would have her tearing her hair out at the end of the first hour.
She stiffened slightly when she realised her partner had fall silent. Clint was never silent. Something was wrong.
Cautiously, she looked back up to her partner who was now slumped against the wall of her bedroom with his forearms resting on his knees. He was cradling his head in his hands and breathing extremely slowly. Natasha tensed. Shit. Quietly, so as not to alarm him, she crossed the room and crouched down before him, and placed her hands on his arms. She whispered his name.
He raised his head and leaned it all the way back against the wall, his eyes screwed shut. He wore a grimace on his face, and he was whispering to himself under his breath. Natasha took his face in her hands and tilted his head towards her. She felt his forehead, he was burning up.
"Tasha," he whined, bringing his hands up to rub his temples. He let his head fall forward to rest on her shoulder. The Russian stiffened slightly but didn't pull back. "It hurts."
Natasha froze. She didn't really know what to do. She had never had to look after a sick relative, and had never really been sick herself. Panicking internally, her mind rallied through all the comforting gestures that Clint had offered her during their long partnership whenever she had been injured in the field. Settling on the first one that she deemed reasonable, she raised her hand and gently stroked his head – it had worked last time, right?
"I know, Clint. Can you tell me where it hurts?" she said softly. She had to determine what was going on. She was hesitant to contact SHIELD or to get one of the other avengers because that meant that Clint would never get his ass out of SHIELD medical again. Slowly, she pulled his head away from her shoulder, ignoring the twisting in her gut when he nuzzled against her neck. She turned his face to hers and shook him gently.
"Clint I need you to open your eyes, okay? I need you to look at me."
The archer complied, and Natasha breathed a massive sigh of relief. His eyes were normal. That was good. His brow puckered and his eyes fluttered shut again. Grabbing his jaw roughly, she forced him to open his eyes again. He grumbled at her and tried to push her away.
"Clint look at me. I really need you to focus. Can you understand what I'm saying? Do you feel sick at all?" she grumbled when he just grunted in reply and smacked him on the shoulder. "For god's sake Barton pay attention."
Hearing her urgent tone he refocused slightly and stared at her. His brow furrowed in concentration as he practically glared at her. His eyes flickered over her face, but Natasha didn't waver. She simply held the sides of his head with her cool hands as he attempted to bring himself back to the present. Eventually, the archer sighed and looked away from her. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he leant his head back against the wall, the stressed rigidity of his muscles dissipating.
Natasha sat back on her heels, and gave him some room, still watching his face warily. She relaxed considerably when he spoke.
"Sorry," he mumbled, looking at his hands, which were tying themselves in knots in his lap. He looked up at her with a solemn expression. Natasha scoffed.
"Clint, don't you realise what just happened?"
The assassin looked at said nothing and stood up. Natasha huffed in exasperation when he tried to side-step her in order to leave.
"You fought it off, Clint. That means it doesn't have to control you anymore."
The archer looked up at her and smiled wryly.
"If I'm honest, Tasha, it seems like bit of a hollow victory."
A/N: So, Clint can fight Loki off – but that doesn't mean he's always going to be able to. Don't worry, it's definitely not always going to be this plain sailing...