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Clint left the hospital first. It wasn't unexpected. He had a job and whispered it gently in her ear before he took off.
"Got class."
Natasha nodded and watched him go. He taught archery classes down at a local range to kids mostly, but he also had an adult class or two. She sat up and yawned and looked over to see Bucky staring at her.
"He's—" Bucky began.
"Clint. My…" She suddenly let her voice trail off. Boyfriend? Roommate? Best friend? "He's been there for me," she finally said.
But Bucky wasn't fooled. He gave her that lopsided smile that used to make her heart beat a little faster. "You love him." His voice held a hint of sadness but no real question.
She didn't want to answer. Bucky had been her whole world for a long time, and she'd grieved him hard after he went MIA. It was only the fact that he deserved honesty that brought out her answer in the end. "Yes. I do."
Bucky blew out a long sigh and leaned his head back on the pillow. "We're still friends though, right?"
Natasha nodded. "The best."
—
It was late when she dragged herself out of the hospital (or to be accurate, when Steve kicked her out with Bucky's approval) and back to her and Clint's apartment. It was quiet, too quiet, but she figured he might have hit the sack before her.
She paused at the kitchen. There weren't any tell-tale signs of his presence: none of leftover takeout in the fridge or oven for her. His chipped white mug wasn't hanging around the counter. It was odd, but she didn't stop to consider it.
Clint hadn't gotten home yet. She headed for the bedroom and comfy sleep clothes to collapse in the bed. She scrounged up the PJs he'd so helpfully tossed aside out of his way the night before (the shirt was hanging off a lampshade; "Really, Barton?"), then slipped her arrow necklace off to set beside the…
Natasha's hand went still and her skin suddenly felt cold. Where was Clint's flashing alarm clock?
She stood up and dug through the socks with a slowly growing panic. She couldn't find the hourglass necklace she'd bought him. It was all her own socks, feminine, white, small. She slammed the drawer shut and dug through the next. Nothing of Clint's, just…
Nothing.
She strangled a harsh whining cry at the back of her throat, swallowing it down. This couldn't be happening.
"He needs me, Clint."
The look on Clint's face, taken aback, blinking in understated surprise flew through her mind. He didn't— he couldn't have thought—
But he did. That much was obvious.
She hurried to the closet and threw open the door, only to cry out in despair. His things were gone.
She yanked her shoes back on, dug her keys out of the bowl, and went after him.
—
Natasha still knew the way to every place Clint had ever crashed and every friend he'd ever had. She knew to check in with the little hole in the wall Kate Bishop kept and how to break into Tony Stark's security system, JARVIS, (friendly sort if you rubbed him right), and where Barney Barton, Clint' brother, lived when he wasn't sleeping at the office.
She found him at Barney's. Barney wasn't in or there's no way Clint would have come sleepily to the door himself when she knocked frantically.
He blinked his surprise at seeing her. She could see the pizza box on the coffee table behind him and a mess of blankets spread out haphazardly across the couch.
"What are you doing here?" Clint asked, face screwed up in genuine confusion.
Natasha stared at him. She searched his expression and didn't even see the hurt or… anything.
"What are you?" she countered.
He stiffened. The sleep went out of his posture, and he held the door open wide enough for her to come in. It was as much of an invitation as she was going to get, so she took it and stepped inside.
This wasn't supposed to happen, and she still wasn't sure how things got so out of hand.
"At the hospital, I didn't mean for you to leave."
He closed the door. His hand lingered for a moment afterward before he finally turned around to face her. "He needs you."
She could feel the ghost of the words he wasn't saying. You said Bucky needed you more than I do.
But she'd never meant—
"Not as a lover. Clint." She stepped forward and tried to hide the hurt when she saw him flinch. "He needs me, but I need you. "
Clint breathed in for a long moment, not looking at her but rather some point over her shoulder. "He's here with you, Nat. He's back."
She'd said that once upon a time, that Clint was here and Bucky wasn't and that's why it didn't matter that she'd never entirely buried her love. She shook her head now, negating her own words. "I love you." She'd never outright said it before.
Clint stared at her, the rest of his response dying unspoken.
She said it again, firmer, signing with the words. "I love you, Clint Barton."