Mocked By The Truth (Clint)

[Clint "Hawkeye" Barton]

Clint's life had become so wacked out over the last six months; his paranoid side had truly had a chance to manifest itself, and he found that he was wearing a rut in the carpet of his room from constant late-night pacing. He considered it a miracle that he was still walking, let alone talking normally. Sometimes he even doubted his ability to make the shots needed to support the team, his partner, or himself. Two things were for sure, though, was one, he wasn't thinking straight. Nothing he would probably say in the next few hours would make sense, or be truly accurate. So was the case with this moment- and as Clint felt his train of thought slip away he found himself getting more and more exasperated with himself. If he could have stomped his foot on the ground, he would have. This thought process of his got him so annoyed sometimes!
The second thing was, Natasha's presence didn't make it any better. She got the sharpshooter's guard down, his emotions raging, his internal body temperature rising. He adored her, was the simple thing to say.

She was probably right about not losing their jobs. SHIELD wasn't one to let some of their best people off the hook at something as petty as a romance. Actually, if anything, it would boost their popularity with the public. Clint knew of more than a couple people who were wholeheartedly in favor of a romance between the two agents, and though they tried not to bring the subject up around them, Clint could sense them start to get excited when he and the Black Widow would even start to converse. What the heck had run through his head when he had the notion that Fury might fire them? Through the gloomy face he had put on, Clint managed to smile at his own stupidity. "Man, that was such a dumb thing to say." He muttered, eyes once again turning apologetically to Natasha. It wasn't often in the past that he was wrong, yet at the same time he and Natasha thought a lot alike, and what one would observe and take into account would be what the other one soon would as well.
Nat tapped the top of his hand with her fingers, and for a moment his eyes were fixated there as he turned his palm rightside up and touched his fingertips to hers, admiring the uneven but nonetheless beautiful nails. The only thing he could do at her words was nod. He had already stated several times before the same thing she essentially was now.
"Ah, it's alright," Hide it all over again? Hell no. Now that it was out, Clinton wondered how he had ever lived without realizing or telling. "It was going to have to happen eventually. I haven't felt better than I do right now in ages." He could give credit to Loki, how he had helped for all this to transpire. If he hadn't enslaved Clint, messed with Natasha's feelings, he and the Black Widow would still be distanced, a gap in between them that was very obviously there but impossible to bridge or identify.

[Natasha "Black Widow" Romanov]

How long had it been, she wondered? How long since she and Clint had begun this little dance around one another, struggling to ignore the feelings that had begun to develop in each of them as they tried to continue on and not let those feelings interfere with their work? She didn't really know when the first time was that she had thought of Clint as being more than her partner, her protector. Most people automatically assumed that Natasha was strong enough to handle herself in any situation, and for the most part they were correct. She'd never voiced her thoughts aloud to anyone, not even Clint...but there were moments when even a woman as strong as Natasha Romanov needed someone who was there to protect and care for her when things got too rough for her to handle alone. And that person had been there since the very beginning, since the moment he had first made the call to spare her life and bring her into his own work environment because he believed that there was more to her than others saw. No matter how many times she tried to tell him, or even show him for that matter, Nat was sure that she had never fully thanked him or shown her appreciation for the things that he had done for her.

Her heart skipped a little when she saw his hand slowly turn over, his fingertips pressed lightly against her own as his eyes examined the rather horrendous state of her hands. They were not soft and feminine, with a smooth surface that was soothing to touch...her hands were calloused, scarred from any number of cuts, bruises and burns that she had endured over the years, with nails that, while clean, were rather uneven and not at all taken care of. Perhaps if she had been like other women she might have taken the time to worry about getting a manicure or something of the like. The only time she dealt with her appearance was when it came to putting on another disguise. Right now though, they were not a prime concern, and so she inwardly cringed to think of how he might view hands such as her own. "It was honest," she muttered softly, her own eyes falling to the touching hands between them. "You were never the type of person to say something you didn't mean..." Not to her, anyway.

Their situation looked so complication from where she sat on one end, wondering just how he viewed it from his. To an outsider it was perhaps a lot more simple than they were making it out to be, and normally the two of them were fairly good at coming up with solutions of some kind. But in this instance, it seemed that neither of them were going to be able to make a decision without serious thought. Rising slowly from her chair, Natasha left her hand where it was for the moment, touching his fingertips, and looked down at him with that almost distant look that she tended to use when she was getting ready to run from a situation. "Think about it," she said quietly. "You were always the better of the two of us at using your heart and your mind together." The last thing she wanted to do was pressure him into something they were not yet ready for, for fear that it might perhaps end badly and destroy the friendship that they had built up over the years. Did she want to take a chance? Of course she did.

But for the first time in a very long time, Natasha Romanov was afraid...