On the Outside

Clint planted his hands on his knees, preparing to stand up when Tony's voice called out, "Hey, wait a minute! You squeeze anything outta Starscream yet?"

A sigh passed through the archer's lips as he relaxed back into the couch once more, his grey eyes swinging over to the other side of the room. Natasha turned back to face them, having already been making for the door, and turned her attention to Tony. Clint was used to being a little off her radar by now, not that he enjoyed it. "Nothing useful. I'm getting there," she told them. "I think he's starting to come around."

"Lady Natasha," Thor said, taking a couple of steps forward from his position beside Steve, "might I visit my brother? I am sure I could aid you in getting through to him."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Natasha said, firmly but not unkindly. "Fury hasn't authorized visitation yet. Maybe once I break him down a little more. I'll let you know."

"What exactly are you doing to-" Thor started, but Natasha cut him off with a sharp look.

"Nothing like that. We just talk," she reassured him, and the Asgardian's face immediately flooded with relief. She glanced at the clock on the wall and narrowed her eyes before adding, "I should get going."

"Nat!" Clint called to her, getting swiftly to his feet. Natasha froze where she stood, her back still to him, as he crossed the room to her. "C'mon, don't go tonight. My next assignment starts tomorrow...I was hoping we could spend some time together," he said quietly once he'd reached her, carefully bringing his hand up to brush his fingers along her upper arm.

She turned her head to the side, not enough to look at him but enough to speak to him; he had half a mind to grab her and turn her all the way to face him, but he restrained himself. "I can't. I'm starting to get through to him. I can't stop now," she said, her voice low but firm.

"Natasha," Clint exhaled, a bit more sharply than he'd like. That made her turn to face him, but his frustration had been mounting for...months at this point. It needed to come out, and the challenging expression on her face was just enough to start pushing him toward that threshold. "What difference is it gonna make if you go tomorrow instead? I'm only asking you for one night," he said, miraculously keeping his voice level.

"All the difference," Natasha answered him, and he could tell from the determination in her voice that he couldn't win this battle, not that he could ever win with her unless she let him. "If I wait too long, then he'll—"

"What? What is he gonna do without you while he's rotting in that goddamn cage?" Clint said tensely, the words half growled as he tried to keep his voice low enough to avoid being overheard by the rest of the team.

Natasha bristled at his reaction, and he nearly thew his hands up in the air and walked away from her right there. She narrowed her eyes at him and coldly asked, "Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?"

"Yes! Alright, yes, I am sure I want to fuckin' talk about this right now!" he erupted suddenly, flat out unable to contain himself anymore. "Every time you say we'll talk about something later, guess what? We never do! Stop running away from me, Natasha, and tell me what the hell is going on for once. That is all I have ever asked of you."

Natasha rounded on him, her green eyes full of ice. "What's going on is you getting in the way of my mission. I don't have time for this."

"What else is new?" Clint half laughed. "What's gotten into you, Nat? What is he doing to you to make you act like this?"

"Act like what?" she asked coldly.

"Like you're not even human anymore!" he shot back, but the way her hardened expression faltered slightly made him regret the words immediately. "Nat, I didn't—"

"I'll see you when you get back," Natasha said gruffly, turning and throwing the glass door open before she stalked down the hall to the elevator.

Clint felt his stomach drop as a tangible silence settled over the room. That definitely hadn't gone the way he'd wanted it to, although he supposed he should have stopped expecting something different a long time ago.

Someone cleared their throat, reminding him that he and Natasha hadn't been alone in the room. "I, uh, I think I should go," Bruce said a bit awkwardly. Clint didn't turn around yet, but the other man clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder as he passed. Bruce was good that way; he didn't pry into other people's business when it didn't concern him.

"My lady expects me," Thor announced, softly, and soon the sound of his heavy footfalls reverberated through the room as he approached Clint as well. "I am sorry, my friend," he offered, his hand falling briefly onto Clint's shoulder before he turned and left for the balcony.

"Well, I'm stayin'," Tony remarked, and barely a moment went by before the clinking of bottles filled the silence. "C'mon Legolas, get a drink," he called.

Clint let out a long sigh and brought a hand up to rub his forehead. A couple moments passed before he could bring himself to turn around and head over to the bar, falling into a seat beside Steve as Tony shook some ice into a couple glasses. "I'm sorry, guys...I don't..." he started, but he trailed off in a vague gesture. He was barely sure what had just happened, only that it hadn't been what he'd intended at all.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Steve reassured him. "Everybody fights sometimes. It's natural."

"That wasn't a fight, that was Cupid takin' one of his arrows and shovin' it up your ass," Tony pointed out, setting down the glass of amber liquid in front of Clint. "Sorry, but I'm right," he added with a shrug.

Steve shot him a disapproving look and turned to the downtrodden man instead. "What was that about?" he asked, and Clint winced a little at the fact the Captain had picked up on the subtext of the conversation.

He shook his head and took a pull from his drink. "I dunno, she...We've had problems lately," he said a bit lamely, unsure he even wanted to talk about this let alone know how to start it all off.

"No shit," Tony said flatly. "C'mon. Be a man and own up to your feelings."

Clint groaned audibly at the suggestion and gave Tony a look that clearly asked whether he was serious. The billionaire stared him down, however, and eventually he dropped his gaze back down to his glass. "I really don't know," he started, his defeat beginning to creep into his tone. "She's been different...distant, really, since the big battle. Won't talk like she used to, avoids me sometimes. I catch her staring out the window for minutes at a time, remembering stuff she won't tell me about. And now this...Loki business, it's just getting worse. It's like she's...obsessed or something. She talks to the guy almost every other night even though she's not getting anything out of him, on the nights she doesn't talk to him she still comes home late even though I know she's got nothin' to do...I think he's getting to her somehow but she won't say a word of what he tells her down there."

Silence fell again for a few moments until Steve hesitantly suggested, "Well...has it occurred to you that maybe, and tell me if I'm outta line with this...maybe something happened between them when she went to figure out Loki's plan and she's, I don't know, maybe trying to put that to rest?"

"Oh, come on," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "You really think Henry VIII over there got to Romanoff? That woman's the closest thing to a Terminator we're ever gonna get. She's incorruptible."

"No, she's not. She told me she was compromised, but..." Clint trailed off again, taking another drink. "I just thought...I mean, she seemed fine soon as the fighting started, and I was so fucked up..."

"She's a master actress, buddy. Fact you know something's wrong to begin with is enough to tell she's slipping," Tony told him, although this time he sounded almost pensive rather than flippant.

Clint let out a hard sigh as he continued to stare into his drink, the tumbler held between both of his hands. "I just don't know what to do with her anymore," he said, hating to admit it although it was the truth. Natasha had squirmed so far away from him now that he felt like he was only barely hanging onto her. At any moment she could slip through his fingers and he probably wouldn't even notice until it was too late. He just had no idea who she was anymore; sometimes, with the way she acted, he was afraid he never really knew to begin with.

Another couple of moments passed in silence, Tony having evidently decided he had no good advice at this point, or maybe just no more obnoxious, unhelpful quips. Steve, at least, suggested, "Just give her some space. Let her try to figure whatever she's going through out on her own. Natasha's strong. If she needs you, you'll know."

Clint nodded at that, but he couldn't help but feel deep down that he wouldn't ever know. Natasha wasn't the type of woman who depended on other people and he'd never taken her for that, but with all she'd seen, all she'd done, he knew that she struggled. He wanted to help her, he just couldn't do that when he didn't understand what the problem was.