Work Text:
Sunday, 11:30 PM
She checked her watch nervously again. Only five minutes had passed since her last glance. Jessica Drew continued staring at the television. She had no idea what was playing. It was simply on so she would appear to not be waiting up. The apartment was dark except for the lights of the street lamps giving a faint glow through the curtains and the flicker of the television. Manhattan was never quiet. The sounds of the street were faintly audible. Jessica ran her fingers through her mane of jet black hair and tried to figure out why this bothered her so much.
This was the third Sunday in a row her roommate Natasha Romanov and her ex-partner Clint Barton had spent throwing cutlery or whatever it was they did over at his apartment. Jessica had the distinct feeling of dread in her stomach. It was silly. She had lost Clint Barton in the jungles of the Savage Land two months before. The redhead had gotten to him over a few days in ways Jessica hadn't been able to over several years. Initially she had assumed the woman had pled for her life and given the archer...incentive.. to let her live. Natasha was trained in the art of manipulating men by any means necessary. Sexually had certainly seemed the shortest route with Clint.
She cringed at the memory of seeing the tell-tale signs of passion: fingernail marks down Hawkeye's back and teeth marks imprinted on his shoulder. Who does that? Seriously? In a humid jungle full of man-eating reptiles and renegade mutant villains? Nothing about that mission had seemed the least bit "sexy." There was no sign that the Black Widow was sleeping with him now though. She always came home after her lessons. On Avengers missions they were professional. There was no sexy banter and only a few longing looks. All of those originated from Clint, just for the record. Jessica's heart ached slightly every time she saw him gazing wistfully at the redhead.
Clint Barton was a lady's man. He had tended to favor short, superficial relationships but he respected Jessica as a colleague. She thought at the time maybe it would give her an edge. Maybe she would be the one who tamed S.H.I.E.LD.'s most eligible bachelor? In retrospect she saw that he viewed her more as one of the guys. Clint wasn't looking to fall in love. He wasn't looking for a woman to heal his past and fulfill him in a way his work could not. No, Clint Barton seemed perfectly content with his extremely shallow love life until everything he was looking to avoid came charging into his life like a locomotive. The poor guy never stood a chance.
It was hard to date outside of work when your job was classified. The relationship inevitably started on the wrong foot when the question of "What do you do?" came up.
"I work for the government," was about all that could be said. Then if one managed to skate past that milestone there would be the late night phone call summoning her for a mission.
"Where are you going?" That's a question you can't elude forever.
"I can't tell you," leaving the "it's classified" unspoken. They were sick of that phrase by then.
Then a mission goes south and you come back from "I can't tell you where" with deep purple bruises, matted hair, bloodshot eyes and images that even half a fifth of straight scotch consumed in a dark room won't erase. Yeah, you never hear from them again after that.
That's why frat regulations at S.H.I.E.L.D. tend to be pretty blatantly ignored. No one else gets them. No one outside could understand. Jessica overall was content with her career and her life. She was a high level agent after all. She had proven herself as an asset even without any superpowers. It was hard to watch a blossoming romance from the front lines when despite your best efforts feelings still lingered. She was sure the origin was about eighty percent ego. What does that woman have that she did not?
Suddenly she picked up the murmur of voices outside. She crept up to the window glancing out at the sidewalk. Natasha and Clint were down below. In yet another cheesy and uncharacteristic gesture the Black Widow appeared to have his coat slung over her shoulders. She couldn't make out what they were saying but opening the window would most certainly give her away.
Clint was looking at his shoes, his trademark shades slid forward from their perch in his spiky hair. He looked up at Natasha pushing the sunglasses back up as he said something sharply to her. Natasha reacted with a few nods of her head. She then started to return his jacket as she made a line for the front door of the building. Clint caught her by the upper arms and spun her to face him. A passerby could mistake the gesture as rough but Clint and Natasha were not gentle people. The two of them stared at each other in that lovesick way movies portray too often. It only lasted a few seconds before Clint was kissing her. It wasn't a "tear your clothes off/ get it out of our system/ hazy with drunken lust" kind of kiss. This was far too intimate. Jessica retreated from the window. That pang of insecurity started to feel slightly more like its' close cousin jealousy.
A few minutes later Jessica heard one set of footsteps behind the living room wall. Her hands gripped a mug of tea that had long gone cold. She had picked it up simply to have something to occupy her hands. Natasha entered the apartment nonchalantly. She had that cool, detached lack of concern everywhere she went. The flick of the switch on the wall flooded the room with light. She hung up the scarf that she had worn and dropped her handbag by the door. The hard "clunk" when it fell was the only indication there was most certainly a small arsenal in there.
"Oh, hello, Jessica. How was your evening?"
"Uh, good, Natasha, how was your lesson?"
"Good. Clint is very skilled. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to surpass his natural hand eye coordination. I've made progress though."
"Isn't it a little late for a lesson?" Jessica hadn't meant to sound so accusatory.
"He talked me into going to a bar near the apartment afterwards. That's why he walked me home...but you knew that already," Natasha answered without emotion. Her message was clear. Nothing got past the Black Widow.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I just...It's hard for me. To see the two of you, Y'know?"
Natasha looked away for a moment like she was preparing herself.
"Jessica, I wanted to get this all out in the open. Becoming part of a team has been an adjustment for me and I still am learning. I told Clint tonight I wanted to discuss it with you before we...proceeded..with ...a relationship."
Jessica stared at Natasha for a moment. The greedy part of her brain screaming to deny giving her blessing, to cite team dynamics and all manner of hypocrisy that she had been all too willing to trample for her own opportunity at the attractive archer.
"So he..like.. asked you to be his girlfriend?"
"I don't think common vernacular would ever apply to people like us. He wants to be with me. I want to be with him. This will be a new experience for me as well. I won't proceed if it jeopardizes the team though." quietly she added "I haven't been sleeping with him, just so you know...not since.."
Jessica knew that not signing off on this would create a bigger schism in the team than would be advisable. She was reminded of trite lines from Hallmark cards"If you love something set it free.." Could she ever claim to have cared about Clint if she denied him the woman who obviously ignited something in him she never could?
"I'm not going to pretend this is easy on me, but I see the way he looks at you. I saw him throw his career at S.H.I.E.L.D. out the window for a woman he just met. I saw the way he always wants to be touching you. I saw him holding you as the bomb dropped. You're under his skin. If you hurry you should be able to make it back to his place before the train stops running."
Natasha smiled back at Jessica...a warmer smile than she had ever seen on the woman.
"Thank you, Jessica. Thank you. I haven't really had friends..You saw Yelena...or a boyfriend. I'm really glad we are friends."
Jessica smiled and rose to rummage through the fridge. She handed a bottle of White Zin to Natasha.
"Go celebrate!" Natasha accepted the bottle and it clinked against metal as she placed it in her handbag. She took her wispy scarf and a light jacket and left.
Jessica couldn't help but grimace as she heard the descent down the stairs was a lot quicker and less graceful than Natasha's usual gait. She walked up to the fridge again and pulled a bottle out of the back of the freezer. She flicked off the lights and walked slowly back to the couch,reclining as she let out a sigh of resignation. She and Johnnie Walker had some catching up to do.
post-script:
Jessica groaned. Sunlight was streaming through her windows. When she opened her eyes the flood of light stabbed her brain like an ice pick. She heard footsteps and clinking coming from the kitchen of the apartment. An unfamiliar laugh echoed through her open bedroom door. It took a moment to realize that sound came from the Russian. As she sat up rubbing sleep from her eyes the dull ache of unrequited affection that had plagued her gut had been replaced by an intense lurching.
"Hey, Jessica, pancakes are ready. I also made bacon and eggs!" That voice was definitely Barton. What were they doing at her apartment?
"Barton, don't you have your own apartment to be ravishing your girlfriend in?"
"I do, but you know I don't have groceries. Nat and I have to be at the tower in an hour. Your apartment is a lot closer."
Oh, it was "Nat" now? Also, no, she had never been to his apartment. Right now she didn't care who Hawkeye was fucking. It could be that woman who had failed her on her first three field tests for S.H.I.E.L.D. and she still wouldn't care so long as she could just bury her face into the cool side of her pillow as she awaited deliverance from her hangover. In the moments that Jessica Drew cursed Hawkeye in every language she knew she decided she was over him. There was no way she could ever have tolerated a man who wouldn't leave her to sleep off her hangover.