Clint awoke to swearing. Angry swearing. Nordic swearing. Lucy's swearing. Lucy swearing while still in the nude.
"What the heck?!" he exclaimed, sitting up in bed far too fast and clutching his head when his entire body protested the movement.
"Spin the bottle," Lucy growled, yanking on her jeans from the night before.
Clint groaned as the memories flooded back to him, and said the first thing that came to mind. "You said you wouldn't get drunk!"
"I was turned into a godforsaken woman four days ago; I think I'm allowed to get drunk over that one!"
Clint didn't know what to say to that, so he quickly fell back onto what had quickly become his and Lucy's faithful standby.
"Go to Hel."
"What do we do now?" Lucy growled once she was fully clothed.
"You do whatever you want – within your boundaries; I am going to work," Clint decided, crawling slowly from the bed.
"On a Saturday?"
"There is always work to do at S.H.I.E.L.D. if you want it," Clint said, hastily pulling on his own boxers and jeans.
"You're being a coward. We were drunk, this happened, the world is still spinning."
"Are you really trying to tell me that if you had your powers, you wouldn't have already killed my by now?"
"You were too valuable a lackey for that, and if I had my powers I would have turned you back into my slave the moment I set eyes on you again."
"You know what?" Clint snapped, glaring sharply at her. "Let's just pretend that this never happened. Got it?"
"Agreed; however, I really think you ought to lay back down. If your headache is half as bad as mine, you're going to end up going into work and getting sent on some stupid mission where you will end up shooting blind, and I don't think you want that."
"Because you suddenly have a caring regard for human life?" Clint snorted, turning his back to the stupid woman and yanking a t-shirt out of his dresser.
He missed the guilty look that slipped through Lucy's eyes before she said quietly, "I don't think you like the idea of hurting innocent people, that's all."
"Of course I don't," Clint said, pulling his shirt on and turning back around to face her as he said darkly, "But then you've never been concerned with that before."
So saying, he brushed past her, and was in the doorway before he heard her whisper, "I am sorry."
He froze, literally mid-step, and turned back around to look at Lucy as he asked, "What did you just say?"
Lucy sighed and slumped down onto the end of the bed, looking at her hands. "The things that I saw yesterday with Thor when we went to help repair the city… I did not expect them."
"What do you mean?" Clint asked, moving a couple of steps closer.
"Your people – Midgardians – I think I may understand why Thor likes them so much," she admitted, looking out towards the blue sky outside the bedroom window while her thoughts were obviously even farther away. "I didn't realize the city was in such disarray until I saw it yesterday morning… but there were so many people there, everywhere, ready and willing to help – some still smiling even."
"And?"
"And I killed so many of them, Barton!" Lucy said, flying to her feet and going to stand directly in front of the window, looking out with her back to him. "I ended so many innocent lives, and I don't even know why – not really. Do you know that my original goal in trying to garner power was to gain my father's approval?" He snorted bitterly, adding, "And we see how well that worked."
"Well, apparently this plan – his plan – is working."
"What are you talking about?" Lucy asked, looking at him in confusion as she went back to sit on the edge of the bed.
Clint lowered himself to sit on the bed beside Lucy. "Wasn't the point of Odin sending you here to give you a conscience? Seems like that's working already."
Lucy narrowed her eyes at him, snapping, "Yeah, you tend to regret lots of things the morning you wake up with your arch enemy in your bed."
"Technically, you're in my bed, Angel. Besides, I thought Thor was your arch enemy."
"Thor… is complicated. Really, I don't even know where I stand anymore, Barton. The Chitauri were supposed to be my allies, and they're obviously not. My father still dislikes me, my mother's too disappointed in me to even look at me, and in the middle of all of that my dear big brother barely deserves consideration at the moment."
"What about the rest of us?" Clint asked with a half smirk.
"Who?"
"The Avengers."
"They don't even know who I am. If they did, I'd already be dead."
"I know who you are, and you're still breathing."
"For how much longer, though?" Lucy asked dryly.
"Until you do something that gives me a reason to break my promise to Thor."
"Look at us, Barton," Lucy said with a dry chuckle. "You keeping your word and me being heartfelt. What's wrong with us?"
"We're not entirely sober yet, Angel."
"Which brings us back to the real issue here. Stay home or you'll do something you regret."
"If I stay here with you, I might still do something I regret," Clint answered.
Lucy raised her eyebrows, mistaking what he had said as being meant as suggestive of something that would be reminiscent of what they had obviously done in the night. "Like what?"
"No! Wrong train of thought, gutter brain!"
"You're the one who pointed out that we're not sober yet."
Clint shoved himself to his feet, grumbling, "And until we are sober again, I'm going to appease you and go watch movies in the entertainment room. Happy now?"
"Not happy, just less concerned."
"Less concerned for who?" he asked, pulling her to her feet with a smirk.
"All parties involved."
Clint's smirk got worse as he leaned forward and pecked her right on the lips. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Angel."