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Darcy had been pre-occupied thinking about what she could make for dinner that night; it had become ritual for her and Clint to eat together when Clint wasn’t out on a mission, and they usually took turns at cooking once they realised that they couldn’t continue to live off of Chinese and Mexican takeout for the rest of their lives.
Clint’s creations were sometimes great, often barely digestible, but always unexpected. He refused to use any measuring equipment and instead favoured throwing improvised ingredients into his mixtures haphazardly. It always amused Darcy to watch Clint in the kitchen, he was confident even while smoke was pouring out of the oven. Darcy was more cautious in her cooking endeavours, and had settled on pasta carbonara when Clint interrupted her thoughts.
“Darcy, I can’t do this anymore. Us. I’m sorry.” He had his poker face on when he said it, though his eyes seemed steelier than they did when they played card games.
Darcy jerked a bit, out of surprise. To be honest, she thought she had the upper hand in the relationship. After a string of unreliable ex-boyfriends she was very cautious with whom she chose to let in. She was disappointed that she wouldn’t get a chance to with Clint; they had been getting there.
Clint hadn’t changed his facial expression but she knew he was evaluating her, assessing the situation, forever a tactician. She ran through their past few days together trying to remember if anything had happened that could have brought this about and came up empty. They’d hung out all weekend, and Clint spent the entire night at her house for the first time. She definitely wouldn’t beg for him like a desperate puppy. It wouldn’t be of any use anyway, after three months Darcy knew that Clint didn’t often change his mind. Who the hell did Clint think he was? Trying to pass her off out of nowhere without even offering a reason. Then again, this was supposed to be easy. When they’d started their relationship one night after months of being flirty friends, he had made it clear that they weren’t headed anywhere serious.
“Okay, is there someone else?” Darcy asked as coolly as she could. She expected the answer to be no, she just wanted to pull an explanation out of him. She could be cunning too.
When Clint straightforwardly answered, “Yeah.” Darcy was surprised. And a little pissed off. He had been so good at pretending that she was the only target he had his arrow fixed on. Ha. If you can’t keep your 20/20 vision on me, then I don’t want you around anyway. She almost spat out something bitter like, “Thanks for the cold honesty”, but decided to be graceful and cool. She tried to channel Natasha Romanov or Pepper Potts or Oprah. She bet Oprah never let an unexpected break-up get the better of her. Even if it was the most thrilling, unexpected and easiest relationship she’d ever had.
“Oh, alright.” Darcy said taking a step back, as if by physically removing herself she could also emotionally remove herself from the situation. “Our three months were good but I figured it had to end sometime.” That was a lie; Darcy hadn’t even thought about the end, she was so caught up in what she thought was the start.
Clint’s expression remained inscrutable. Darcy wanted to punch him.
"I just thought I'd have a little more warning when it happened." Darcy added, a little petulantly. Okay, so she wasn’t completely good at being impartial and nonchalant yet.