Chapter Text
SHIELD was a strange work place if Clint ever knew one. And sure, he didn’t knew much of work places. But he was still pretty certain that it wasn't common for someone to come up, clasp you on your shoulder and congratulate you on surviving your first year.
Sure, what first year the agent referred to he didn’t know and when he asked, the Agent just laughed and walked away. Clint stared a bit, but then shrugged it off. He had a meeting to go (look at him, all responsible for things) and he was going to go even though he already hated everything to do with it, just out of spite. He really just wanted to go back to bed, maybe cuddle with Lucky, and eat cold pizza.
He ignored the creepy smile Sitwell threw him and the confused look Hill threw into his direction on his way to the meeting.It wasn’t unusual that they looked at him funny. He was, after all, a dumpster fire. And well, he knew he hadn’t showered in two weeks and probably not only looked like it but also smelled like it. His clothes had seen better days, too.
But they’d never looked at him thatfunny before. It was as if he’d forgotten something important. As if he shouldn’t be here (no, not that. They had looked at him like that in the beginning, and those had been other looks).
Clint stepped into the lift and was very proud of himself that he waited until the doors closed before he looked down on himself. Wearing clothes, check. Wearing pants that weren’t ripped in places they shouldn’t be, check. He looked into the mirror, but nothing unusual there, either.
Clint decided that SHIELD was just stranger than usual today and was very glad when the lift opened and Natasha got in, barely glancing his way.
“People are weird.” Clint complained, not surprised that Natasha doesn’t even try to produce some kind of expression on her face. That wasn’t her thing.
“Really?”, she asked instead, still looking ahead.
“You reek.”
Clint blinked and laughed a few seconds later.
“Yeah. Maybe. Not the best of days.”, he admitted. It was Nat. She wouldn’t rat him out. At least as long he wasn’t endangering a mission. Or himself. Or other Agents. Again.
“No. Certainly not. You remembered to feed Lucky?”
Clint would’ve felt insulted if it hadn’t been getting harder and harder to manage everything over the last few days. But today, he had done that!
“Yes!” Clint exclaimed proudly.
“I even went outside with him and put laundry in a machine. Okay, I didn’t turn it on, but in theory, I could.”
Nat’s mouth twitched slightly, a twinkle in her eyes.
“Good. You need me to turn it on?”
From everyone else, Clint would think it was mockery. From Nat, though… well, it was only partly mockery.
“Maybe. Bring food if you do.”
He didn’t add that he forgot to buy human food last week.
Nat just nodded, stepped towards the doors and they slid open as if on command. Clint was always astonished how she did that.
He was glad that it was only Coulson and Fury in the meeting room for now. He was glad that Coulson only looked slightly irritated at his clothes and Fury… well, he always looked as if Clint had just done something, so Clint wasn’t going to put too much thought in it.
The looks other people threw him (and seriously, having Hill look at him as if he’d gone crazy was frightening) got ignored. He didn’t have the time for everything.
After the meeting, he just stood up and walked out the door. Coulson knew how to reach him anyway, after all. Since he didn’t get called back, he figured Coulson was at least okay with Clint disappearing. So he went home.
He ignored the other people who looked at him or his clothes. Ignored the strange looks people in the subway gave him. Ignored the understanding look in the old eyes of Miss Tamelia’s eyes.
Clint just went into his apartment, pet Lucky and fell face first on the couch.
When his mobile pinged, he was a bit proud of himself for looking at it.
You know this isn’t fair to Natasha, right?
Clint liked Coulson. But on days like this, he wanted to throw him out of a window. But then, knowing his luck, he would survive it and would drown Clint in either training or paperwork.
Yes. But she offered.
Clint could practically see the resigned look on Coulson’s face. But if Nat wasn’t okay with coming here, then she wouldn’t have offered.
Sure.
Nothing more. And then someone knocked and Lucky went wild and Clint remembered that Nat never just came into his apartment without permission.
He should get her a key. A key was a permanent permission, right?
“You could open the door yourself, you know?” Clint greeted her, relieved when he not only spotted a bag with healthy food (ick… but well, probably better for him… whatever) but also a very big, wonderful smelling box of pizza.
Lucky barked from the living room.
“Sure. You need to air this dump out. You do that and I put away the groceries.”
Clint knew she only did that because she wanted to make sure there were clean dishes. Which… there probably weren’t. He couldn’t remember if he turned on the dishwater yesterday. He was just tired.
Neither he nor Nat were surprised that his eyes were already drooping when she sat on the couch, even though the pizza was still smelling delicious.
“Eat first.”
Clint took it as the order it was, secretly glad that Nat didn’t mind watching his spanish soap opera while eating greasy things she usually avoided. Even if she was feeding most of it to Lucky.
It didn’t surprise him either when he woke up and it was not only quiet, but also dark. And he had a blanket thrown over him. He could see light from the bedroom and a glance at the clock told him that it was barely past midnight. The light probably came from Natasha, reading something or just staring at the wall. Sometimes, she did that.
Clint sighed and got himself a glass of water (because, yes, he drank something other than coffee, thank you very much) and sat down on the couch again. He could join Nat. Maybe. It would be nice to sleep next to someone.
The blinking of his phone caught his eye.
Anyway, happy anniversary. For both of you. No matter how you spend it.
Clint frowned at Coulson’s message. What the hell did that mean? Maybe the message wasn’t meant for Clint. It probably wasn’t. He sighed and stood up, draining the glass of water and bringing it back to the kitchen before joining Nat in the bedroom.
She didn’t look up from her book.
“Better?”
“Yeah. Thanks. Still weird day.”
She made an agreeing sound, only turning down the lights a bit when he laid down again to sleep.