Lines of Communication (1/1), The Avengers
Title: Lines of Communication
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters/Pairings: Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton
Rating & Warnings: K
Word Count: 300
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Something More?
Summary: Clint finds moving on difficult.
Author's Notes: Written for the epic mrstater. Takes place after the movie, spoilers abound.
He was drunk when she found him.
Natasha crossed the bar, ignoring the leers of the men around her. “You shouldn’t be drinking on the job,” she chided, sliding in the stool next to Clint.
“I’m off the clock,” he slurred, raising a half-full glass to his lips.
“We’re never off the clock.”
He huffed a bitter laugh. “Don’t remind me.” Clint swirled the glass around, seemingly mesmerized by the swirling amber liquid.
“Fury has another mission for us,” she said. She put her hand on the cup and gently pushed it towards the counter.
Clint looked at her, his eyes unfocused. “Remember how you were talking about the red in your ledger?” He didn’t wait for her response. “I’d say I’ve got you beat after all of this.”
Natasha shook her head. “It’s not your fault. What Loki made you do--”
“--was assist in the murder of hundreds --if not thousands -- of people and in the destruction of half of New York City.” He lowered his gaze. “There’s no atoning for that.”
“It will get easier,” she assured him, her voice soft.
“Guess so.” He didn’t seem convinced, but he set down the shot glass anyway.
She stood up and was pleased when Clint followed her lead. “If you ever need to talk...” she started awkwardly. Talking with people about their emotions was never an easy subject for her. It always seemed preferable to have a detached sense of professionalism around those she worked with.
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. The kiss lasted all but a fleeting second, but it was enough to make a faint blush dust her cheeks.
“I know,” he whispered, giving her hand a brief squeeze.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Clint talked to her after all.
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters/Pairings: Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton
Rating & Warnings: K
Word Count: 300
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Something More?
Summary: Clint finds moving on difficult.
Author's Notes: Written for the epic mrstater. Takes place after the movie, spoilers abound.
He was drunk when she found him.
Natasha crossed the bar, ignoring the leers of the men around her. “You shouldn’t be drinking on the job,” she chided, sliding in the stool next to Clint.
“I’m off the clock,” he slurred, raising a half-full glass to his lips.
“We’re never off the clock.”
He huffed a bitter laugh. “Don’t remind me.” Clint swirled the glass around, seemingly mesmerized by the swirling amber liquid.
“Fury has another mission for us,” she said. She put her hand on the cup and gently pushed it towards the counter.
Clint looked at her, his eyes unfocused. “Remember how you were talking about the red in your ledger?” He didn’t wait for her response. “I’d say I’ve got you beat after all of this.”
Natasha shook her head. “It’s not your fault. What Loki made you do--”
“--was assist in the murder of hundreds --if not thousands -- of people and in the destruction of half of New York City.” He lowered his gaze. “There’s no atoning for that.”
“It will get easier,” she assured him, her voice soft.
“Guess so.” He didn’t seem convinced, but he set down the shot glass anyway.
She stood up and was pleased when Clint followed her lead. “If you ever need to talk...” she started awkwardly. Talking with people about their emotions was never an easy subject for her. It always seemed preferable to have a detached sense of professionalism around those she worked with.
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. The kiss lasted all but a fleeting second, but it was enough to make a faint blush dust her cheeks.
“I know,” he whispered, giving her hand a brief squeeze.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Clint talked to her after all.