The quinjet touched down and Natasha shot up so fast she toppled over sideways; he moved to catch her but Bruce got there first. "Thanks, Bruce," she mumbled, voice thick with sleep, giving an embarrassed smile. He sighed and followed his teammates towards Headquarters. Agent Hill pulled her aside, and for a moment they laughed and grinned at each other. He smiled softly to himself – he had that connection with her. Except, it was suddenly different. There were feelings climbing his heart and head that he had never intended on feelings.
Later that night, just as the sun had sunk behind the Stark Tower, he met her on the balcony. Everyone else was inside laughing, celebrating their victory, but she leaned outside against the railing, hair tossed aside by the wind, eyes squinting against the city lights. Up there, everything seemed so far away. Up there, they were just a gang of rowdy adults, instead of The Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes. He cleared his throat lightly.
"Hey, Clint," she whispered. He moved closer, resting his elbow against the edge to look at her. "What's up Nat?" he asked, watching her eyes glittering in the last lingering shred of sunlight. The look she had on her face, he quickly realized, was one he had never seen on her before. His heart caught in his throat; sweat was beading lightly on her forehead, despite the cool night breeze, and her pupils were dilated, staring at some point far over his head. "Shit, Nat. Are you ok? What happened?"
Her eyes snapped back to him, as if they had just realized he was there. She drew a deep breath through shaky lips, eyes drifting back towards the skyline, and said, "Do you remember when Bruce, uh, was provoked and freaked out, and I didn't notice because I had just knocked you out to get Loki out of your head?" He rubbed his forehead at the mention. She pushed on. "And he, Bruce… I mean, the "other guy" showed up."
"Yeah?" he nudged. Where was this going?
"I never told you this before, it seemed, I dunno, really weak, and I only really think about it during Code Greens, but… I was… Terrified. He… That shattered me. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to be killed and that I'd never get a chance to say goodbye to…" She fixed her focus on him again, terror ingrained in her beautiful, glass cut, battle haunted face.
"Oh, Nat…" Tears had crept into the corners of her eyes. He didn't mention them but she swiped at them nonetheless – she still hated anyone seeing her cry, it was reflexive.
"I will never beg for my life, Clint, you of all people know this, but I almost slipped that day. I almost gave up, got down on both knees, and prayed. I don't even think I have it anywhere in me to believe in anything, but there I was. Huddled in between the pipes, listening to him get farther and father away, with tears and snot and shaking and everything, praying. For my life."
It had built up in his mouth and came tumbling out before he could stop himself, "I don't see how you could love him. Not after that."
She took another deep breath, a shiver running down her spine. Was she cold or afraid?
"I feel like that now," she murmured.
"Like what?"
"Terrified. Afraid for my life. I don't know what I'm going to do, Clint." She stepped forward, closing the distance between them as she wrapped her arms tight around his waist, burying her face in his just-washed shirt. He noticed then that she was still wearing his ripped shirt over her outfit. He was about to mention it, but then her voice reached his ears again, smaller than usual, "I love you, Clint. I really do. Thank you. So much."
Then she pulled away sharply, spinning around and disappearing back into the building, so fast he had to think for a minute before he noticed she was gone. 'I love you, Clint. I really do.' He watched the door for a while, catching his breath, thinking, I love you, too, Natasha. I really do.
