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If there's one thing Clint has always been good at, it’s talking to people.
In his circus days, he was constantly out and about, talking to people who would come to see the shows. Before he got under the big top for his portion of the show, he was just another excited kid about to see the strange and bizarre. He had no problem talking to kids and enhancing their excitement, letting parents know which ones would probably terrify their kids, or just meeting new people.
With SHIELD, he did the same, but with recruits. It had changed, however. He kept secrets now, refused to dish out details about himself. He found out things about other people, learned and memorized facts and anecdotes, learning things that they had given to him, but never giving anything of himself. Or, if he needed to, he would give just enough to satisfy, without it being enough to give them a way to find him if he didn’t want to be found.
Since joining the Avengers, Clint had done the same, just with people on the street. His favorite place to do that was a little coffee shop that’s outside of Stark Tower. The place wasn’t too busy, and the baristas there seemed to like him and his charming smile or quick – and dumb – jokes. He’s not sure why, but he liked to listen to them too. They knew he was an Avenger; a coffee shop sitting that close to Stark Tower, where it all went down… that made sense. So, he indulged them by telling them little bits and pieces that he had learned from spending time with The Avengers. For example, he told them about pranks played on other members, or of how Tony was incapable of doing anything without Pepper around, or how Pepper made even the most well-adjusted people feel like they’re incapable without having her around.
Natasha was the first to meet the friendly baristas at the coffee shop. Clint waited for her to wake up, and then dragged her out of the Tower with barely enough time to get her shoes on. Her hair was in a braid from the night before, she hadn’t even had time to brush it, and she’s scowling at the sunlight. However, Clint paid for her coffee and the smile the barista – Jamie – gave her was big enough that it made her feel a little better. Natasha could tell by the easy way that Clint talked to them, how he’d learned their names and little ticks that gave them away, that he was there often. Natasha made it a habit to join him most mornings, though she told him that it’s just so that he didn’t mess up and tell them something he shouldn’t.
Before long, Natasha was talking to Jamie and her co-workers as well, telling stories about the ways that Clint messes up. She even laughed when Jamie told her about the time that Clint didn’t listen and tried to chug a fresh brewed cup of espresso. Natasha’s reaction after was a head shake and a wry comment of, “that explains why he had so much energy that day”. Clint, as revenge, told Jamie about how Natasha and Pepper are dancing around the idea of being in a relationship.
“We are not, Clint,” Natasha retorted, her tone calm even as she averted her eyes from him, looking instead at her coffee. Clint grinned at her, shaking his head.
“You’re head over heels for her, even though you never admit it. And she’s got a soft spot for you, probably because of how much you help her put up with Tony. So just ask her to dinner,” he responded. Natasha pegged him with a glare that warns him of the thin ice he skates on, but he just shrugged.
“It might not be a bad idea,” Jamie piped up, earning her a glance from both assassins sitting in the coffee shop. “I mean, if she says okay, and it doesn’t seem like it’s romantic, you can just say that it’s a dinner to take some of the stress off of her, right? And if it does, then you can tell her how you feel.” Clint looks at Jamie for a minute, then turns his gaze back to Natasha, a grin widening his features. Natasha looks at both of them, then at Clint, and heaves out a sigh.
“I can’t take you anywhere, Clint.”
“I brought you here!”
Most days, the conversation flowed about the same. They come in, get their coffees, and just converse. The place has a good location, but with a Starbucks just around the corner, there isn’t that much business. They keep busy enough, but they’re relatively slow. Clint promised once to help change it, and they would appreciate it, but there’s been no evidence that anything is changing. No one brought it up again, but the way that Clint sometimes grinned at the baristas made them wonder what his plan was.
But, other days, the conversation had a very different flow. Either Clint would come in and be rather quiet, or someone else in the building would have a problem. One of the other baristas, Jamie’s timid friend named Star, was worried about her parents, who were fighting. Clint bought her a coffee and listened to her for an hour and a half, softly offering advice to help her deal with it. It wasn’t long before Clint had some of the baristas coming over to ask for different advice. When Natasha came, they stopped, but Clint encouraged them to come over anyway. Natasha listened, but stayed mostly quiet. It wasn’t until Clint was at a complete loss of what to suggest that she spoke up. While Clint’s advice was more focused on self-preservation, Natasha’s straight forward advice had the potential to range from self-preservation to risk taking. If someone was afraid of a reaction, she would quietly point out that a person couldn’t live their lives afraid of what other people would think. She was most passionate in her defense of doing what made them happy, not what pleased other people.
“It is impossible to please everyone you meet, so stop trying,” Natasha told one barista. “It’s not going to be easy to retrain yourself out of that behavior, but you have to. You’re going to keep giving and giving to other people until you have nothing left to give, or nothing left to keep for yourself. The people you’re currently giving to are just taking. They don’t offer anything in return, and those people aren’t people you need in your life.”
That day, on the walk back to the Tower, Clint kept looking at Natasha until the redhead finally gave in and asked what he was doing.
“Just thinking about what you said,” Clint responded. Natasha raised an eyebrow.
“Why? Worried you’re giving too much of yourself to others?” she asked, her tone sarcastic. Clint rolled his eyes.
“Nah, not really. But it’s good advice… Makes me wonder if you thought like that at one point.” They walked in silence for a few minutes until Clint shrugged his shoulders and offered her a grin. “Then I remember that you are the Black Widow, and no one takes anything away from you.”