#c:melindamay

[fanatolliel]

short story: Locked Away My Memories: Marvel

Title: Locked Away My Memories Fandom: Marvel Characters: Clint/Natasha/Phil, cameos by Melina May and Dr. Goodman Prompt: “I locked away my memories for a good reason.” (via. @colormayfade ’s prompt generator.) Rating: PG Genres: romance/fluff, humor Warnings: mild language, talk of blood and swollen faces and violence Word Count: 1,900 Summary: a mission goes wrong, the team deals with feelings and wounds Notes: pre-Iron Man, story 2/∞ on this new blog

Natasha Romanoff was shaking.

No, that couldn't be right – the infamous Black Widow, international assassin, deadliest woman alive didn't shake.

Clint risked another stare. No, there it was, a slight tremble to Natasha's hands every few seconds. Her hands didn't shake when she exhaled, so it wasn't pain or adrenaline – probably. Clint wasn't the medic for crying out loud; he was the sharpshooter, and so he noticed things like that – a tremble in normally rock steady, sure hands.

The medic had already checked Natasha over, and she’d given Natasha the all clear. It had been a nasty mission, but everyone had come through remarkable unscathed.

Honestly, you'd think you could count on the bad guys to show up on time for an arms deal. But no, bad guy group one had been late and when they did show, they were more on edge than was normal for a arms deal. Bad guy group two was even later, which made bad guy group two suspicious. Agent May, undercover, had to turn to Plan C to keep everybody happy. Of course, once May had mostly calmed everyone’s nerves that was when bad guy group two's lieutenant's cousin (the intel was still coming in) had suddenly shown up, it threw an even bigger wrench into the plan. Phil had immediately called for Plan M.

Clint didn't even know Plan M existed.

Fortunately, Phil did.

Apparently (according to Phil’s hasty commands), Plan M was Clint shooting a Stunner into the crowd, Natasha tackling May so she missed getting shocked, and Coulson leaving the van, running in, and taking out the few bad guys that weren't unconscious.

Which was badass, and would have worked, if May hadn't halfway dodged Natasha's tackle, causing both of them to get hit. And if the bad guy group two's lieutenant's cousin hadn't been some sort of enhanced. Apparently, the dude had some sort of warning system that made him really hard to punch.

And hard to shoot. Which was just plain rude.

All in all, the mission had been a disaster, but a success from an objective standpoint, nonetheless. All the bad guys were subdued. The guns and grenades had been confiscated. The secrets had been spilled. Natasha and May had been annoyed with each other, but after a few minutes of glares and the silent treatment, the both had gotten over it.

While the mission itself would be written up as a success, it was Phil the medic was fussing over as the quinjet flew back to HQ. He was conscious, but woozy with a concussion. Fighting an enhanced who had a warning of your next move and had a preference for punching the head would do that to you.

It had taken a well-timed team effort to put the little bastard down. At Phil's glance and nod, Clint had fired an arrow just shy of the back of the enhanced’s head forcing him to jerk forward right into Phil's fist.

Even bleeding out of every hole in his head, Coulson still had that knockout punch. Badass.

But not fun.

Clint wasn't worried. Despite the anxious hurry of the medic once they got on the jet, Coulson smiled at Clint. Clint knew he'd be all right.

Natasha though.

Clint was worried about her.

Clint unbuckled and sat down beside Natasha. She didn't glance at him, but since her hands didn't tighten, he supposed she didn't mind that he knew.

Well, if she wanted to talk, he'd have to start the conversation. "Coulson’s going to be fine."

"I know." Natasha's voice was stiff, and Clint had to lean closer to hear her clearly.

"May isn't mad at you."

Natasha snorted.

"You didn't mess up the mission–" finally Natasha looked at him with a glare. Clint scrambled, "I mean, that should be obvious, it was that enhanced. He's the real party crasher. No way we could have predicted an enhanced who could predict that his cousin was in danger and also be super dodgy."

"Coulson did," Natasha said with the smallest of smiles.

"Of course, he did. Guy's a mission simulator. Sure, maybe he didn't know the specifics, but you can be sure he had a plan if one of the bad guys got twitched or if sirens had driven by and spooked them or if a wayward skydiver had parachuted through the warehouse."

"I think those are Plans C, G, and U."

"Right? Coulson's awesome." Clint leaned back, tried and failed to stretch his legs out in the small space. Time to be blunt. "So what's with the shakes? You got some sort of alcohol addiction I'm just finding out about? You got the DTs?"

"No."

"Level with me, Nat? I know you don't get scared and you're too used to the adrenaline to get jumpy, and we just went through the whole not worried about the mission or Coulson or May. So spill."

Natasha pursed her lips and turned to the window.

Clint waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

In fact, they were five minutes out when Natasha said, "It's Coulson."

Clint blinked. "Come on, Nat. I know everyone has a crush on him, but this is a bit much."

Natasha glared. "It's not him in particular, but what happened." She paused a minute before continuing. "It's been a long time since I've seen someone get hit in the face that many times with that much blood."

"Head injuries bleed a lot, Nat."

"I know, Clint," Natasha said sharply. "I've knocked out more people than anyone's fair share. But so many times, so unrelenting – it's been a long time since I've seen that." Her voice was small as she continued, "The things they made us do – when we were training – they were horrible, Clint. I've tried to forget. I've locked away my memories for good reasons. I've tried to forget, but all his blood, his face, he reminded me of the other girls, and what I did."

Cautiously, Clint wrapped his arm around Natasha’s shoulders. Slowly she leaned against him. They said nothing for the rest of the trip back to base, but when they got up Natasha squeezed his arm.

Four days later Clint and Natasha were visiting Phil. Again. They visited him multiple times each day, staying for as long as the doctors would let them, leaving only until they could sneak back in. 

"The swelling's gone down, sir," said Clint cheekily as he dropped package of bear claws on Coulson's lap and plopped down onto the chair next to the bed. "You're as handsome as ever."

"Get your feet off the bed," commanded Natasha with a swat. She ignored herself as she sat cross legged on the foot of Phil's bed. "And don't bump him; doc says he's still concussed."

Phil smiled at the pair as he broke into the treat. His eyes closed in bliss as he bit into the sugary sweet pastry. Clint unabashedly watch with a smile on his face. After he swallowed, Phil said, rapturously, "I doubt I'd be healing at all without you two bringing me goodies. It must be some sort of law that every hospital has to have bad food." He passed two of the bear claws to Clint and Natasha.

"The pasta isn't bad," said Clint.

"Like you'd know," teased Natasha. "You never stick around long enough to be served dinner."

"I've had it a few times," Clint protested.

"Yes, I think that mainly would be due to the fact that you were strapped down and I was watching you. You'd never imagine a man could complain so much; it's like we were torturing him instead of healing him," Phil said with a laugh.

Clint shrugged, unashamed.

"How much longer do the doctors say?" asked Natasha, her voice light, but both men could see the tension around her eyes.

"'Soon' is the word they keep throwing around. 'Soon' and 'it was a bad concussion, agent; it could take weeks,'" Phil quoted. "But, honestly, I do feel better and better. Fury pulled rank and demanded they give me my phone and tablet yesterday, so I don't get behind."

"And go crazy," added Natasha.

"And try to escape," continued Clint.

"Neither of you has any room to talk," Phil scolded playfully.

After finishing the bear claw, Phil wiped his hands off on a mournfully small wipe. "How are you doing, Natasha?"

Clint was surprised – Natasha didn't freeze or glare – she only said, "Better, sir." Apparently, Clint wasn't the only one with hawk eyes on the team. Though Coulson's face had been so swollen, there should be no way that he could have seen anything, let alone a tiny tremble–

Phil interrupted Clint's confusion, "Natasha came to visit me by herself a couple of days ago."

"We talked through it," said Natasha firmly.

"And we agreed that as long as you were talking through it with Clint or myself, you didn't have to visit Psych," continued Phil.

Natasha nodded, sparing Clint a glance; he smiled back at her. "Come on, Nat, even the two of us knuckleheads have got to be better than Psych."

"Even Medical's better than Psych," said Phil.

Natasha smiled. "‘Knuckleheads’ is right."

"Hey, badass and handsome and sexy are a much better fit!" Clint protested.

"You know, Natasha," said Phil with a smirk, "if we're knuckleheads than you're the person in love with knuckleheads. What does that make you?"

"A saint," deadpanned Natasha. Clint threw his wrapper at her. "No seriously, the Vatican just called and I'm getting venerated next week." Phil pushed her in the shin with his leg until she was half way off the bed.

"All right, that's enough. Both of you out!" Dr. Goodman glared with hands on her hips, as she pointed out the door. 

"Every time!" groused Clint as he stood up. "Doc, are you a ninja? How do you know we're starting trouble every single time?"

"At least you admit you're trouble," said Dr. Goodman as she ushered them to the door. "Remember, agents, I work for Shield too."

"Figures," muttered Clint as he headed down the hall until he was stopped by Phil's voice.

"Wait!"

"Sorry, doc, even ninja doctors can't stop us from saying goodbye." Clint walked back into the room with a "sorry, I forgot, sir," and gently, carefully kissed his husband on the lips. 

Natasha was close behind with another kiss. After pulling back she whispered something too soft for Clint to catch, and Phil smiled and then actually blushed.

"Woah, watch it, Nat; his heart rate just spiked! Damn girl!"

"Out now," snapped the doctor. "I will talk to Fury if you give me any more trouble."

"Yes, ma'am," said Clint with a salute, as he was shoved out into the hall.

As the pair walked away, Clint leaned over and said, "You've got to tell me what you said to Phil."

Natasha said, "Nope," with a popped p and a grin.

"Babe, come on!"

"Don't call me babe."

"Sorry, shit, sorry. Just come on, Nat! If you won't tell me then at least show me."

"Sure, I'll show you, when we get home."

"Yes!" Clint did not punch the air in excitement.

Natasha chuckled. "...When we all get home; Phil too."

"Party pooper."

"Come on, it's always better with Phil."

"Well, I mean yeah, he's a handsome badass, but remember, 'weeks?' You can't make me wait that long for whispered things that make Phil blush."

"Yes, I can."

Clint sighed, "Yes, you can."

"Love you too."