Bed of Burning Snarl || amnesia!verse || closed

[stillnotlegolas]

Clint thinks that, quite possibly, he might lose his mind. It won’t be a fast process, going insane, but he’s pretty certain that eventually he’ll just make the step forward right over the edge and go completely and totally bonkers. There are things they’ve been trained for, and then there are things they were never trained for - magic and gods and

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[stillnotlegolas]

"You have to have noticed," Clint replies, keeping his attention on the model, cutting his eyes over to the engineer once before they return to the glowing diagram. "But look, I mean, I know she's gorgeous, of course I do," And he's just sort of talking now, realizes maybe he should stop, but he can't help it. He's just--he can sort of deal with Nat being Natasha, and he can sort of deal with half of SHIELD still thinking he's a fucking turncoat, and he can sort of deal with the fact the longer this goes on the less likely it is that Nat is ever coming back, but put all of it together and he's feeling a little crazy around his eyes. "but seriously, she's not right, you and I both know that, and just--" He fades out because dammit. He doesn't even know. He can't think about this. About Tony and Natasha and the fact that she looks at him sort of how she looked at Clint when he'd brought this version of Nat into SHIELD a decade ago.

He should be happy for her, that she finally found someone she can be comfortable around, because she obviously wasn't able to pull it off with him because despite his best efforts he can't drop the fact that she's a different woman than the one he wants her to be. How do you turn that off? If anyone would give him a suggestion, he'd be more than willing to take it. Hell, wipe out the past ten years from his head too and they can just start over. As it is--

"Seriously though, Tony. I don't know what's going through her head half the time," And doesn't that grate, because he's used to being able to read Nat like a book, "but, you're--" he waves a hand at the man's form, "enticing, you know?"

[nottheworsthing]

"What's to notice?" Tony replies. He's still mostly convinced that Clint's experiencing some sort of stress-induced delusion. Shaking his head in utter bemusement, he pushes abruptly away from the abandoned welding and crosses the workshop toward Clint, brushing half-finished holographic designs out of the his way as he goes. "Feel free to start making sense at any time," he says sardonically, stopping just on the other side of the main helicarrier schematics.

Goddamnit, he is in no way awake - or failing that, caffeinated - enough to be dealing with this. Calculations and schematics and handling power tools, all these things he can do in his sleep, and has in the past. But anything involving people and feelings? Not a chance. He can be charming when he wants to be, but for the most part his people skills exist on a purely superficial level.

"...thanks?" he says, for lack of any more intelligent answer. He's looking Clint over now, and- well, Tony has been subsisting purely on coffee and manic hypercreativity for the past three days now, and right now Clint is making him feel healthy and well-adjusted by comparison. Tony is well acquainted with the signs of someone running themself into the ground - though admittedly he's more used to seeing from the inside - and this is all looking very familiar. He's very much aware of the irony vis-à-vis pots and kettles, but it doesn't stop him from asking; "Okay, seriously, when was the last time you slept?"

[stillnotlegolas]

"Fuck you I've slept recently," He retorts, but completely counteracts any assertion he might have by rubbing his hands over his face and leaving his hair sticking up in a rather ridiculous fashion. He has slept recently, technically, but while the couch in his level of the tower is comfortable for sprawling and sitting, it wasn't made for sustained sleeping and he's just about to lose his mind for want of a decent night's rest. But he's also not about to force himself on Natasha or kick her out of the one place she feels somewhat comfortable. Of course, being locked out of his bedroom every night is doing wonders for his mental stability.

"I'm fine," he adds, as if this would help him be more convincing. "I just--thought I'd come here, and--let you know. About Nat--about Natasha, and what's going on with her, and you."

But it seems like some of the wind has gone out from under his sails, and he just--he doesn't know how much longer her can do this, this thing where he always says the wrong thing and ends up hurting Natasha and she strikes back in defense and cuts as deep as she can manage.

[nottheworsthing]

"Sure you are," Tony replies in tones of deep and abiding skepticism, raising his eyebrows at Clint. Well at least it's nice to be proven right. Yeah, Tony is intimately familiar with 'sleep deprived and incoherent' and he's pretty sure he's looking at a bad case of it right now. Still doesn't explain the weird delusions involving Natasha having a crush on him - which, once more with feeling, what the fuck - but it's something. "Come back when you've slept. You're talking crazy talk."

[stillnotlegolas]

"Dammit, Tony, I'm not crazy," He snarls, tightening his arms across his chest and turning his attention fully to the other man. "She talks to me, alright? And it's come up," Not in so many words, but Clint can't think of anyone else that Natasha talks about with equal--well, he might call it reverence. Respect, certainly, awe, slightly, and a whole lot of something he can't quite put his finger on, but is the closest to infatuation he can imagine for her. He doesn't entirely have enough evidence to make a blanket statement, but he knows her enough to know it might be an issue.

[nottheworsthing]

He opens his mouth to make the instinctive protest of but she doesn't even like me. But even as the words form he stops, because- well, that wasn't exactly true any more, was it? Ever since the day Natasha had first wandered into the workshop, a tacit sort of truce had existed between them. And all of a sudden the fact that she kept coming around made a lot more sense. To say nothing of the way she watched... He blinks a few times, brow furrowing. "Huh."

[stillnotlegolas]

He just lets out a snort and nods, because aha, Tony gets it. And while there's a bit of comfort in knowing he's not crazy, it's not exactly comforting to realize that Tony's noticed enough that he thinks it might be a possibility too. At least, now that Clint's pointed it out to him.

"Right," he agrees, crossing his arms back over his chest and leaning against the workspace between them. "and maybe she isn't Nat right now, but she's still--" God, Nat would kill him for this, or at least punch him. She hated when he went all territorial alpha male on her, and he didn't do it often. Hardly ever, actually, because hell she really didn't need anyone fighting her battles for her, and half the time she fought her own, won them and fought a couple of his on the side, but Natasha isn't Nat and he doesn't--she brings out every single one of his protective instincts, and he knows logically he doesn't need to protect her from Tony, because Tony's a decent guy under all his flash, but he's sort of--protecting her from everyone right now. "--still, you know, off limits"

[nottheworsthing]

Tony's eyebrows shoot skywards. "You know she'd skin you for that, right?" he says incredulously. Out of possibly everyone he's ever met, Natasha is probably the least in need of people being protective of her. And he really can't see her taking well to anyone making the attempt. Even Clint. "Also, 'off limits'? Seriously?"

[stillnotlegolas]

He's well aware. Trust him, Tony, he's got the scars to prove how well she doesn't take it, but, dammit, he's still not--

"I know," He agrees, shoulders slumping just a little as he looks away from Tony. "Doesn't make it less true though. Maybe I'm being crazy about it, I don't even fucking know, but, I just know she's all kinds of twisted up and not herself--" His hands are back at his face, scrubbing over it, like he might be able to make more sense of any of this by blocking out his sight. Dammit. He can't fix it and he doesn't know how and it might never be fixed and somehow this is going to end up being his life. Him waiting for a woman to come back who's gone, and the woman she once was coming to hate him because he can't stop waiting for who she'll be.

[nottheworsthing]

"For the record: still not convinced you're not crazy," Tony clarifies, because it seems like this needs to be said. It's still a bizarre and vaguely unnerving thought to attempt to wrap his head around. Maybe the old Natasha had never liked him, but he appreciated that she was upfront about it. He liked to know where he stood. With this new version of her...well, he's about as far from knowing where he stands as is humanly possible. It's cold comfort than no-one else - including Natasha - has any real idea either.

He shrugs. "Seriously though, it's not like she can't take care of herself," he points out. He has full faith in Natasha's ability to break every bone in his body if he steps out of line.

[stillnotlegolas]

"I'm well aware she can take care of herself," Clint retorts, because really, Tony, he knows that. He's probably been on the receiving end of Natasha taking care of herself more than anyone else recently, and he's very aware of how good a job she can do of it. "But she's also not herself right now."

He can feel the press of his ring against his chest and he tries not to scowl, but it's just another reminder of what, exactly, it seems like he's lost. "So just, do me a favor, alright?"

[nottheworsthing]

Tony's eyes narrow. "Seriously?" he says flatly, his face hardening into the sort of blankly indifferent expression he usually only wears around reporters and other hostile forces. "This is seriously a concern of yours?"

[stillnotlegolas]

Were Clint in his right mind, he might have recognized that expression and responded appropriately. Because, he knows Tony's faces, to an extent--it happens, when you're on the same team and see everyone in a thousand different facets of their lives, and even more when you're actually friends--and he should have seen the absurdly wide warning sign that came with this one. And, well, he's never really had Tony consider him a hostile force before, so he's not entirely certain what he's supposed to make of it.

Except, of course, to push an issue he should have realized was a moot point before it even became a doubt in his head.

"--you think I'd be down here if it wasn't?"

[nottheworsthing]

"So what you're saying to me here is-" No, he's not even going to finish that sentence. There's no way it can possibly end that doesn't make him want to punch something. His face is a mask, but something hard and angry is glittering in his eyes as he points toward the door and says evenly; "Get the fuck out of my workshop."

[stillnotlegolas]

"Tony--" Clint starts, shaking his head a little and not at all taking the direction he's been given. "Look, I know you're too good of a guy to do anything, I just--wanted you to know, to, ah," what, remind him that Natasha wasn't Nat right now? That sounded stupid even before he said it, "Just, you know--"

[nottheworsthing]

"No, sure," Tony interrupted in a venomously reasonable tone, "You wouldn't be down here if it wasn't a concern, right?"