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They weren’t in love.
Honestly, the thought of dating Clint never crossed Nat’s mind, at least until others mentioned it to her. Even more honestly, she didn’t know what others saw or why they were considering it. The heteronormativity she managed to avoid growing up in the cold, sterile culture of the red room, she supposed. A man and a woman being seen together didn’t automatically mean anything other than what it was. The thought of being friends with a man was foreign to her, dating one even more so. She could if she wanted to, she imagined. That wasn’t what she had with Clint though.
Clint saved her. He could’ve killed her but she chose not to and gave her a home instead. And instead of abandoning her to S.H.I.E.L.D, he remained at her side, even now all these months later. He was her friend, her greatest ally and the man she owed everything to. But she wasn’t infatuated by him. She didn’t look at him like he hung all the stars in the sky even though, in a way, he had for her. He was just Clint. He was a hero but at the end of the day he was just some person and that was what she needed.
“I hear Barton only keeps her around because she’s sweet on him.”
There were other parts of the conversation Nat overheard. She was dangerous, she wasn’t loyal, she would turn on them, she was a monster, nothing new. She’d heard whispers from the day she’d arrived. This was the first time she’d heard whispers about Clint though. She didn’t like that.
Nat moved quickly, as she always did, and had the woman who’d been whispered pinned against the wall before the man she’d been talking into could even blink, let alone register what was happening before him. He fumbled for his weapon but Nat’s head swiveled, hitting him with a hard glare and warning him not to before he could get very far. Turning back to the woman, Nat stared deep into her eyes deeply, making sure she knew exactly what she was messing with.
“Don’t,” she told her firmly and then she released her just as quickly as she’d grabbed her. The woman gasped even though Nat hadn’t been holding her throat and Nat didn’t bother waiting around to see if she was alright. She was already halfway down the hall by the time the man crouched down to check on her.
“You’re blushing.”
“Shut up. I know she’s scary but that was hot.”
Nat felt a flash of satisfaction. Not the usual response she got from doing something like that. It was flattering, she supposed, but really it was more of an indicator of how different this place was than the red room. Here, people could pursue their attractions and waste time thinking about other people’s romantic relationships. It was a fantasy compared to what Nat had grown up with.
“What’s got you smirking?” Clint asked when she finally bumped into him near the dormitory wing.
“Scared an agent,” she answered, not letting the smirk drop off her face. “Just thinking about how nice it is to be here.”
Nat watched Clint’s expression shift as he tried to react to each of those statements as if they were one. She let herself laugh, prompting his confusion to melt into a sheepish shrug and lopsided grin. He didn’t say anything, no announcement of a lesson learned or congratulations for settling in. He was just some person and that’s what Nat needed to feel like one too.
They loved each other.
Clint read a lot of fiction in his youth. Novels, short stories, romances, adventure, found family– it didn’t matter. He ate it up like candy. Books were hard to come by back then, at least for him. Each one was something special and he clung to every word like it would save him from whatever problem was ailing him that week.
Love came up a lot. The power of love was the answer to any threat in fantasy. A kiss was the climax of so many stories. The drama of a love triangle kept downtime entertaining when the heroes searched for their foe. A kid learned the meaning of family in a coming of age story. Love was a motif in every tale. But as inescapable as it was, some parts eluded Clint.
Love at first sight didn’t exist in real life. Clint knew that. He still wanted it though. It didn’t develop over time either, or maybe it did and he was just missing something. He loved his brother but he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t. Family was just like that. He’d loved the dog who’d trailed after him for a week during that stint wandering the roadside after he’d left the circus. Dogs were different though. Even if love at first sight didn’t exist, Clint swore dogs were the exception to that rule and he’d fight anyone who said otherwise.
Clint never had a single moment he remembered as the moment he fell in love. That made the moment he realized he loved Nat all the more special.
They weren’t young but they were young enough. Nat was twenty-four if Clint remembered correctly. Maybe twenty-five, and that was assuming Nat wasn’t lying about her age. He never checked. She might’ve not even known her true birthday. Clint would’ve given her his if she asked. They were close in age, only a couple years apart by Clint’s estimate. Then again, he was never good with that sort of thing. He wouldn’t be able to tell a kid’s age if it was written on their face.
It was Nat’s first Christmas since defecting to S.H.I.E.L.D, or maybe it was her second. Clint really should be able to remember this sort of thing. It was probably her second. Clint couldn’t imagine them doing anything for their first Christmas together. Or rather, he couldn’t imagine Nat letting him do anything for her that first Christmas. He was fairly certain this gift had been a surprise anyway.
Clint couldn’t recall how he’d learned Nat liked ballet. Maybe he didn’t and he was just making an assumption since she was Russian. Maybe he hadn’t even known and he’d bought the tickets on a whim. Really, he wished he’d remembered more details but he remembered what mattered and that was the look on Nat’s face when the dancers came on stage.
Clint had seen The Nutcracker a couple of times before taking Nat. He won some free tickets in an office raffle a few years ago. It was neat but he hadn’t particularly liked it or anything. Boredom had drawn his gaze to Nat’s face and it stuck there for the rest of the play. After a minute or so, Clint realized that was pretty creepy but he just couldn’t tear his eyes from the joy on her face.
Her lips were slightly parted, her jaw going slack with awe, but it was her eyes that really captured Clint’s attention. With the lights low and from the angle he was at, he couldn’t see them all that well but he could see the wonder ablaze in them and Clint was gone. Everything Nat did was practiced. She always had a facade up. This though? Clint could tell it was genuine and it was the most genuinity he’d ever seen.
Humans were beautiful. The things that made them human made them beautiful regardless of external appearance. Those same things could make a human ugly and Clint had met plenty of ugly people but Nat wasn’t one of them, no matter what she claimed. When she washed blood off her hand after a mission or slipped into that old behavior instilled in her by the room, Clint could never think she was ugly. How could an ugly person love dance so truly and authentically?
People were raw and they were tender and they had all sorts of vulnerable bits they hid when someone was looking. In the theater, they stopped hiding. The people around them were all looking at the same thing. They didn’t think the person next to them would be looking at them and they were too enthralled by the performance to doubt themselves. In the seats around the stage, humans let themselves be real. The mask dropped and they were just there, raw and tender and beautiful as humans could be.
“How’d you like the show?” Clint asked as they left, hands pocketed and arms hooked around each other. It was habit at this point with all the undercover missions they’d been on. A man and a woman walking together were usually affectionate. It was normally stiff under the mask but tonight, Clint was grateful for the warmth in the winter cold.
“It was alright,” Nat answered but her eyes were still shining. She’d loved it, he knew, and that genuine joy in her eyes was why he loved her.
They weren’t in a relationship.
S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had partners so that’s what they called themselves. It was the closest word to describe what they had but Nat and Clint knew their partnership was different from the other agents’ partnerships. Other agents changed partners all the time. They didn’t crack jokes about the people they’d spooked or go to ballets together. They weren’t the person others called when the other got stuck in an air vent or got so stressed they started snapping at everyone around them. Clint and Nat were unique like that.
Their partnership didn’t end when S.H.I.E.L.D. ended either. The other agents scattered but Clint and Nat remained at each other’s side. They shared an apartment when their rooms in the Helicarrier flooded. They shared a cab when Fury called them both in for a briefing. They checked each other’s weapons like they always did, made sure they were eating all their meals, and swapped clothes when one didn’t have anything to wear. Their partnership was as strong as ever, maybe even stronger.
S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t know that though. The fools.
“...Widow, you’re going to be leading operations in the East, Barton you’re going to take a squad down South, Hill-”
“Nah,” Clint said simply, interrupting and not even bothering to get his feet off the table.”
“Excuse me?” Fury raised a brow.
“Nah,” Clint repeated, refusing to elaborate. Nat knew exactly what he was saying though.
“Clint and I work together,” Nat translated, matching his nonchalance. “You’re not splitting us up.”
“We’re short on agents and severely shrinking our scope during this rebuilding process. I can’t play favorites just because you two used to be some of our top agents,” Fury responded but was met with two unyielding stares. He sighed and pinched his brow. “Take it up with Hill after the meeting. This was her plan.”
“Nuh-uh,” Clint insisted, sliding his feet off the table and leaning forward. “You’re not brushing us off.”
“Fury’s right,” Hill told him, taking a step so she was facing him. “You do realize the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. got taken down, right? Things are going to be different for awhile.”
“Not for us.”
Hill blinked at them. “Are you threatening to quit?”
Clint and Nat exchanged a glance. Were they threatening to quit? No, they weren’t. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been their lives for this long so why stop now? Besides, with the data-leaks it wasn’t like they had many other options career-wise. They wouldn’t be screwed but this an ultimatum wasn’t the smartest move either.
“We’re very good at getting what we want,” Clint answered, voice unwavering. It was rare to see him like this. He was usually the lighter of the two. Seeing him go dark was always startling but it gave Nat the opportunity to do something even more unsettling.
“Yeah. Clint is not above groveling,” Nat answered, a cheery smile appearing on her face. It was fake and not a very good one but that was the point and it still got the job done. “Or worse, pranks.”
“And Nat’s not above stabbing and/ or seducing,” Clint added. “Man or woman, you cannot resist her.”
Hill stared at them for a moment before blowing a lot breath of air out of her mouth. “Where did we go right with you two? Maybe if half our agents were as loyal as you two, we couldn’t be in this mess.”
Clint and Nat exchanged a glance, smiling with their eyes but not their mouths. They were really something special, weren’t they?
They had a relationship and it was a good one.
Clint and Nat did end up leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. for the most part and relocating to the Avengers. They didn’t fit in at all yet they fit in perfectly at the same time. They weren’t exactly up there with superpowered beings like the Hulk or Thor but they didn’t exactly fit in with regular humans either, even the ones hardened by life in S.H.I.E.L.D, so why not worm their way into the Avengers? Everything considered, it was the closest thing they could find to a place they could belong.
Nat had a flirty dynamic with Steve and Bruce that later evolved into real friendship. They both had their own sort of antagonistic friendship with Tony. Clint had a near-traditional broship with Thor, as close to broful as the two could get at least. Later, they both gained sort of a parental/ older sibling status to Wanda and Peter. Nat and Scott had their bug thing and Clint had a buddy who could keep up with his humor, often at Sam’s expense. Clint taught Vision how to be human, well-experienced from his time with Nat. Nat gained allies in Rhodey and Bucky in a sea of mission-derailers. Nothing could match what they had though.
Clint walked into the gym as Nat was stretching. He joined him, relishing in the relief from the stiffness that plagued people their age in these early mornings. They were getting up there, weren’t they? Not old quite yet but older than they’d been. They’d known each other for a long time now.
They fell into a rhythm, a near perfect sync. Clint didn’t have to look at Nat to know what stretches she was doing nor did he need to look to copy them. He didn’t need to look to know she started on the leg press so he went to the incline bench. Always start with the big muscle groups. He knew when to move too and so did she. They swapped machines after the appropriate number of repetitions for both of them and then continued this exchange a few more rounds before moving on to another piece of equipment.
It was silent and it was easy. It was different from when they were using the gyms on the Helicarrier but didn’t disrupt them in any way. They knew each other’s bodies as well as their own, as if they’d walked a thousand miles in each other’s feet. They didn’t need to speak, listen, or look to communicate with each other. The bond they shared told them all they needed to know to move beside one another.
They didn’t want to have a life together.
“Don’t you think this is kind of weird?” Nat asked, leaning against the kitchen counter as Clint messed with a pot on the stove. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing but it looked complicated so it’d probably turn out pretty good, though most of Clint’s cooking was pretty hit or mess. That was pretty ironic for a man known as the world’s greatest marksman, wasn’t it?
“What do you mean?” Clint asked, not looking up from his work. “Living with the Avengers?”
“No. This,” Nat answered, gesturing around the kitchen. “You cooking for me. That’s not…”
She trailed off, not knowing how to articulate what she was feeling. Cooking was domestic. Cooking for someone was romantic. That wasn’t what they did. What they had was easy but it wasn’t domestic and it definitely wasn’t romantic. Even edging into that territory made Nat’s skin crawl.
Clint snorted. “I’m not cooking for you.”
“You’re not?” That was a relief but now she was a little offended now. “Then why am I here?”
“Third wheeling for me and Slingshot,” Clint answered casually like that explained everything. “You’re getting paid in our leftovers if you keep Steve from eating it all before Slingshot gets here.”
“Slingshot?” Who was Slingshot? Was there a new hero in New York? Or was Clint seeing someone? Either way, Nat felt like that was something he should’ve told her before he started planning an elaborate meal for them.
“The cat I found in the alley last week,” Clint answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and maybe it was. In hindsight, that seemed a lot more in character for Clint than him inviting someone over. Clint was almost as averse to new people as she was. “We’ve been hanging out. I decided to call him Slingshot.”
“And you decided you’re going to try to lure him into the tower with”- Nat waved a hand loosely at the stove-” this.”
“I’m sous viding chicken breast. I’m going to cut it up, bread it, and turn it into chicken nuggets.”
“For an alley cat?”
“Not just an alley cat,” Clint corrected. “Future Avengers Tower resident.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“He deserves to eat like a king.”
“And I don’t?”
“I see a trap when I see one.”
Nat smiled. “I taught you well.”
“Didn’t you not want me to be cooking for you a second ago?”
“No,” she responded, lying obviously and blatantly. “You’re doing this because Slingshot and I both deserve to eat like royalty.”
“I don’t think a human queen would be eating chicken nuggets.”
“Is that an offer?”
“To what? Cook more? No. You’re going to eat your leftover chicken nuggets and like it.”
“Leftover?”
“These are for Slingshot. No matter how much you try to scare me, he’s still getting them first.”
Clint and Nat stared at each other, waiting to see who would break first. It was Nat, unable to keep the snicker held back any longer. “I miss this.”
“We never really lost it,” Clint told her, “but I’ll keep that in mind.”
But, despite everything, they still wanted each other in their lives.
This wasn’t new information. They’d known this when they left S.H.I.E.L.D. Leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. had been world-shaking but it hadn’t been absolutely shattering like this. There were the echoes of familiarity but this was whole new territory.
Thanos succeeded. He got the stones. Vision had been killed and then their friends and allies all around them had turned to dust. Bucky, Sam, T’Challa, and Wanda disintegrated on the battlefield. They couldn’t get into contact with Fury or Hill afterward. They had no idea where Tony or Peter were, either dusted themselves or stranded in space. There were so many more, too many to count, and those who remained were forced to cling to each other in fear they too would disappear.
Clint wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of disappearing or more afraid of Nat disappearing. This was the thought that dominated his mind as Steve half-heartedly ushered them onto the quinjet and back to the tower. Bruce was on Nat’s other side and Clint’s fingers were wrapped around Thor’s forearm, huddled in the back of the quinjet like shells of their former selves. They’d been so mighty moments ago. They’d been in the heat of battle and the risk of failure was there but it hadn’t set in. They always won in the end. This time, they hadn’t and now they had to- to…
What was there to do but hold on to what they had left?
They split up when they got back to the tower, wandering and ambling without real purpose. Some of the people who worked there rushed up to them to ask what had happened, their own pain pouring out in front of them. Steve handled it, or at least he tried, and the rest retreated upstairs. And for Clint, that was where the dam broke.
Slingshot had been there a couple years now. Clint was always more of a dog person but he’d really grown to love that cat. People were hard but what he had with Slingshot was easy, sort of like with Nat. And now he was gone. Clint didn’t have to look around to know. Cats didn’t run to the door when their owners came home like dogs but the floor felt empty in a way it never had and Clint knew.
Clint cried. It wasn’t a big dramatic show. He didn’t fall to his knees and scream. He didn’t snot all over himself. He just took a breath, took a few steps over to the couch, and wept. After a moment, Nat slowly and gently took a seat beside him, leaning against him and letting him relish in her presence. “I’m here.”
“I know,” Clint told her and it wasn’t flippant or snarky like his words often were. They both understood what those four little words meant and exactly how much they meant. The storm was over and their bond had been tested and they were still standing. They were there and they were here and they would remain. Nothing, not even Thanos, could or would leave them without each other.