#clint barton x natasha romanoff

[icantopenwaterbottlecaps]

I drew some art for @quidnunc-life's clintasha The Proposal AU! The fic itself is still a WIP, but I'm already obsessed with the little tidbits she's shared with me in chat 💜❤️

This is also technically my first complete clintasha art ahhh, hopefully I'll find the energy to make more someday :D [reblogs are appreciated :")]

[[edit: some people have been asking in reblogs for a link to this fic, so I just wanted to clarify that this fic is an unpublished WIP, gsparkle is still writing it and was privately sharing some tidbits of progress with me. I’m afraid it’ll be a while yet before it’s published, so I drew art of it to tide myself over because I too can’t wait to read it. Sorry y’all, there’s no link/fic to read yet]]

[loomontoia]

but you are holding me like water in your hands

(...) but you know the killer doesn't understand

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 16 - ‘no, I can’t feel anything’

Warnings: panic, self harm, medical procedure

Word Count: 2k (gif not mine)

Summary: they won’t let her see Clint. Desperate times.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

(A/N- halfwayyyy! <3)

.

Natasha opens her hand, the wounds large on her knuckles as she picks at them absentmindedly.

She hasn’t wiped the blood off the glass, just like they haven’t washed his blood off the floor.

She thinks they’ll get around to it, but it’s clearly not a priority.

Sweat still clings to her.

She closes her eyes and they’re beating him. She can’t get the images out of her head.

She’ll kill them, she’s sure of it.

Once they let her out, she’s going to kill them. Even if Thompson then kills her.

She doesn’t care anymore.

She wipes the blood off on her t-shirt, the black SHIELD issued clothing becoming darker with the stain of red.

Natasha bites the inside of her cheek, centering herself.

Deciding not to dwell on the fact that she may have traded one organisation for an equally corrupt organisation, she stares doggedly at the hallway entrance, wishing for someone to come.

She needs to know he’s alive.

He was when they took his broken body.

He didn’t look dead, just on his way there.

She bites down harder.

Taking a breath, she waits.

.

Maria locks down Natasha’s cells more thoroughly. She adds only herself, Clint, Coulson, Fury, two recruits she knows and trained personally, and Sharon.

She worries for the spy.

Clint’s attack was clearly targeted.

To have it done in front of Natasha was a show.

Her phone rings, Coulson’s ID flashing.

“Any news?” She asks in greeting.

“He’ll be okay. Broken ribs, broken nose, broken arm and bruising. Nothing internal they can see, so bed rest for at least two weeks.”

Maria opens his SHIELD file.

“Not in medical-” she starts.

“No, but there’s only a few truly safe places for him.”

“Maybe he can take her,” she jokes, but even as the words come out, she knows it’s a good plan. “Coulson, maybe they can go, we can finish up here, and they can go.”

He stays silent for a moment.

“Let’s get him stable first, and then make some plans.”

Maria nods.

“Someone needs to check on her.”

“Someone needs to stay with him.”

Maria sighs heavily.

“Fine. But if she does anything, you’ve got her for the next week.”

“I don’t think I’m getting the better part of the deal,” Coulson replies, “he’s in medical.”

Maria suppresses a laugh.

“The two that did it? Were they on the list?”

Coulson takes a moment.

“Yes, but we only got one. The other is at large.”

“I think I know, but why Clint? Was it because of her?”

“I think… a warning. For both of them. For us? I don’t know. The quicker we get this done the better. Has the news started to filter in the gossip chains?”

Maria glances at her other phone.

“That there’s been some disappearances?”

Coulson doesn’t reply.

“Yes,” Maria continues, “people have noticed. But SHIELD’s a big operation, no one is too suspicious, yet.”

“That’s good,” he replies. “I have to go, the doctors are coming.”

“Yeah okay, ask them when he’ll be ready to move.”

“Will do. Thanks Maria.”

And with that the call ends.

Maria sighs heavily, hoping that Clint doesn’t have any lasting trauma from the attack. She scoffs to herself. It’s a stupid notion.

She thinks of Natasha, trauma central, and opens the cameras.

The woman stands staring at the door.

The blood on the windows is stark red against the whiteness of the room.

Maria frowns.

Stares.

Waits for her to move but she doesn’t.

She knows she needs to go and see her, probably tell her that he’s going to be okay, but her feet don’t move, stuck in limbo as she watches the woman.

The blood on the floor is Clint’s.

Grief for her friend hits her, and she sucks in a breath.

She needs to move.

One foot in front of the other, she tells herself.

.

Clint groans.

He hurts. He feels the familiar drag of painkillers and reaches up to touch his face, finding a drip in his left hand, the sensation of pain familiar.

“We got one of them,” he hears Coulson say. “You’re okay, just beaten up.”

Clint holds a thumb up, hoping it conveys everything.

His arm is heavy.

He remembers.

His body.

Hurts.

He feels so tired.

“Natasha,” he says, his throat sore and dry. “Check?”

Coulson takes his hand and places it back down on the bed, the movement comforting and reassuring.

“Sleep,” he prompts, as Clint feels the pull into darkness.

.

Maria walks down the hall grudgingly.

She had been planning to go.

She tells herself that anyway.

But when Coulson had called and said it was a request from Clint, she knew she had to go now, before she left for the night.

The last corner finds Natasha staring at her, still in the same position she had watched her in hours ago.

She walks forward to the window and greets her.

Natasha adjusts her position.

Maria sees the welts on her hands, the blood red scabs from punching the glass.

“That must hurt,” she states, looking at her hands.

“No.”

Natasha’s voice is clearer than Maria remembers.

Perhaps with purpose.

“Is he alive?”

“Yes,” Maria responds, not wanting to elaborate.

“Can I see him?”

She thinks for a moment. Looks at Natasha’s hands, the way she tried to help.

“No,” she decides. “But when he is better, we can take you.”

Natasha’s eyes flash with anger, it’s gone in an instant, but it puts Maria on edge.

“Take me to see him?” she asks again.

Maria frowns, wanting to leave. She’s tired, she wants to go home, not deal with the Russian assassin and her demands.

“No,” she repeats.

Natasha takes a step closer to the bloody wall.

Leaning back, she smacks her head hard against the window.

Once.

Twice, before Maria reacts.

“What are you!? Stop!”

Natasha hits it a third time, cracking her skin and opening a fissure on her forehead that starts to bleed profusely.

She leans back again, showing no signs of stopping.

Maria swipes the door to open, and Natasha misses her mark of hitting her head for a fourth time.

In hindsight, Maria recognises that this was the only way that she could see Clint, the only power that she has in a very powerless situation.

“Stop!” Maria’s voice echoes in the room.

The command holds power as Maria holds Natasha’s arms.

“Stop, I’ll take you to him.”

She feels cornered.

Blood drips down Natasha’s face, the bruise already forming, and the cut wide.

“Stop,” she says again, just so it’s clear.

Fear, in the lengths that Natasha would go to see that Clint is okay, curls in her gut.

She’s not sure it’s the right decision to send them away together, but maybe, it will give her another purpose.

She doesn’t trust her with national secrets, but maybe she does trust her with her friend.

And maybe that’s more important than National Security.

“Handcuffs,” she sighs, producing a tissue and handing it over.

Natasha points to the bed.

“Get them.”

Maria doesn’t want to step inside Natasha’s cell, like entering someone’s room, or home without permission.

Natasha does as she’s told, stepping backwards and watching that Maria doesn’t move towards the button that closes the door. The handcuffs are placed on and Maria gestures for her to come forward.

Bloody tissue in hand, Natasha blots blood out of her eye-line.

“You’re insane,” Maria mumbles looking at her.

“I need to make sure he’s okay. I can’t… I owe him.”

The brief sentence makes Maria pause mid-step.

“You owe him?”

She’s sure Clint would never put a quid pro quo on a life, not one that he’s put this much energy into saving, and proving she’s an asset and not a liability.

Natasha stops alongside her.

“I owe him,” she repeats. “He can’t die until I know what the debt is.”

Maria starts forward again.

“You did something for us,” she starts, her voice purposefully low. “There’s a mole in SHIELD,” she admits.

Natasha’s harsh laugh makes her glance back.

“Double agents are everywhere. You think Russians are the only ones that house American spies in their midst? Any fool would know that they house agents that work both sides. Only bigger fools let them get promoted to director.”

Maria stops again.

Natasha clenches the blood soaked tissues.

“You knew?”

“I suspected.”

Natasha wipes at her face again.

“Your face tells me I’m right.”

Maria snarls.

“I don’t like you,” she tells her.

Natasha blinks languidly at her.

“I know.”

The last key swipe leads them out, and Maria starts the walk to medical.

Natasha is lucky that it’s late. Only the janitorial staff and a few agents milling around. No one gives them a second glance.

Looking back, Maria finds Natasha’s head bowed, eyes cast to the floor.

Blood dripping and making a trail.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” she asks.

“Because if you are, the floors get wiped down frequently. So there’s no chance of you following it out.”

Natasha touches the tissue to her nose.

Maria ignores the action.

The first elevator is quick, but the second that leads to medical is slow.

Natasha looks at the signs, she sees the hyper vigilance in her eyes as she spies the arrows.

The signs of fear are subtle.

The slight beads of sweat along her brow.

Small inhalations of breath that are more measured, like she’s practicing meditation.

The way her muscles seem to tense on every step, like she wants to run away but it’s sheer force of will that keeps her moving forward.

“Don’t kill anyone,” she mutters.

Natasha nods.

She’d been joking but apparently it was a consideration.

Maria decides against the medical team.

She didn’t like Natasha but she knew a risk when she saw it.

“Turn.”

She pushes Natasha into a medical bay.

The bed inside seems to make Natasha balk.

“Sit.”

The order seems to help.

The panic flits across her face momentarily before it’s dampened down into an impassive mask; Maria doesn’t miss it. She looks curiously at the woman in front of her, the blood doesn’t seem to phase her, but the room does.

“I’ll get the doctor.”

She watches the fear reaction play out in real time.

“No,” Natasha says, her voice almost inaudible.

Maria rolls her eyes.

“You need stitches, you don’t do things half assed, and that will continue to bleed.”

Natasha wipes at her head, the clink of the handcuffs shift Maria’s focus.

“You.”

The request is whispered but forceful.

“No doctors. Please?”

Maria doesn’t know why Natasha has a fear of doctors, but she does feel sorry for her. She knows the vulnerability costs her. Knows by the way Natasha won’t make eye contact or the way she squeezes her hands to stop them shaking. It breaks open the wounds on her knuckles and Maria is reminded of how hard she must have hit the glass when Clint was being beaten.

“Fine,” Maria says, “but it might not be neat.”

Natasha shrugs, fingers rubbing the raw skin on her hands.

Maria hands Natasha a towel.

She finds the antiseptic wash, the pain killers, gloves and the numbing cream.

“Do you want these?” she asks, holding up the pain killers.

Natasha shakes her head, staring at the blue gloves, now on Maria’s hands.

As gentle as she can, she rubs the numbing cream on Natasha’s head.

The only reaction is a flinch.

Maria cleans Natasha’s hands first. Slowly, she opens them up, washing the blood, putting the antiseptic on and watching for a reaction.

Natasha seems out of it.

Maria isn’t sure if it’s the blood loss, or the place, or a combination, She wraps each with a bandage. First the left, and then the right.

She wipes the blood again.

“Do you feel this?” Maria asks, gently touching her forehead.

It takes a minute for Natasha to answer.

“No. I don’t feel anything.”

Maria thinks there’s more to her statement than she understands. Touching her head, she realises the wound seems more superficial than deep.

She opts for glue over stitches.

Gently, she washes the wound.

“He’s okay, you know.”

Cleaning it carefully, wiping the blood away, she continues.

“Broken ribs, broken nose, broken arm, some bruising,” she lists. “Nothing he hasn’t had before.”

Natasha’s eyes focus behind Maria, but subtly her breathing changes.

.

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

Apparently my ship type is “World’s Dumbest Husband (Who Suffers From A Debilitating Hero Complex) And Redheaded Wife (Who Is So Much Cooler Than Him).”

[voicesinthedarkness]

friends

Clint Barton

Feburary 17th, 2008

Unspecified location

Clint wakes to the sound of the other hotel bed creaking.

“Nat?” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m fine, Barton,” she snaps, but her voice shakes—just barely.

She heads to the bathroom, and he can hear her washing her face at the sink. He sits up, turning on the lamp as she returns. “You okay?” he asks gently, noticing her red, puffy eyes. She grunts, the sound nearly a growl, and gets back into bed, facing away from him.

“Why do we need extraction?” Nat asks after a long, silent moment, and Clint’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that she’s never had anybody come back for her.

He shrugs. “In case we got badly injured, I guess?” She looks over her shoulder at him, examining and evaluating his response. 

“You know you can tell me if you’re not okay, right?” he says just before she turns back around. “It’s—it’s okay to not be okay. I won’t think any less of you for it.” Nat stares at him. “I had a nightmare,” she says bluntly. Then she faces away from Clint again.

He turns out the light, curling back up under the blankets with a sigh. It’s a while before Nat breaks the heavy silence.

“I dreamed that the extraction squad were double agents from the Room,” she says quietly. “And they came for me. And you let them take me.” Clint sighs sadly. “You will never have to go back there if you don’t want to,” he tells her firmly. “Not on my watch.”

Nat doesn’t answer. Maybe she doesn’t believe him; maybe she’s reached her limit of vulnerability for the month. Clint can’t tell.

He really, really hopes she believes him.

>>>———————————————>

Natasha Romanoff

April 12th, 2009

Odessa, Ukraine

"Ястреб."

Natasha's voice echoes raspily through the comms, cool and calm as ever despite the immense pain dancing merrily through her injured body. Barton reopens his end of the comms immediately.

"Паук," he answers easily. She coughs, wiping dust off her face. "I've been shot," she tells him, rummaging through the supplies in the half-smushed jeep for a first-aid kit. "The engineer is dead." She pauses to focus on bandaging the bloody hole in her gut, and Barton panics. 

“Паук?! Respond!” he yelps right in her ear. “I’m doing first-aid, ястреб!” she snarls, and she can practically hear his embarrassment. “Sorry,” Barton mumbles, “I… I got worried.” His American accent is rough, raw, genuine.

For some stupid fucking reason, this makes Natasha’s heart constrict. She doesn’t deign to respond except with a cold, “Over and out.”

She thinks about it as she’s cleaning up the many, many scrapes from falling down the cliff. Did Barton really care for her like that? Was it all some greater scheme? 

Fucking hell, she thinks, I’m so damn sick and tired of being so wary of the first person to ever show me kindness.

>>>———————————————>

Clint Barton

June 5th, 2010

Clint and Natasha’s shared apartment

Clint flops on the couch, exhausted. Absently, he wonders when Nat’s going to get home. A few days was the longest S.H.I.E.L.D. had let them be apart since Budapest, and now they’d been apart for two weeks, give or take.

He’s only vaguely surprised to realize that he misses her.

The door clicks open. Lucky barks excitedly, and Liho meows from the back of the couch. And Nat’s there, just as exhausted and even more beautiful. She looks at him, unsmilingly, yet Clint can see the glint in her eyes.

“How are you?” she asks casually, sitting down on the couch next to him. “Tired as shit,” he answers. She laughs genuinely. It wasn’t even that funny.

He leans closer, waiting for the punch to his groin. Nat continues to watch him calmly. Clint swallows, tentatively running his calloused fingers through her red-gold curls.

Nat’s eyes drift shut, and she leans into his touch. Clint’s breath hitches audibly and a delighted smirk curls Nat’s scarlet lips. “I missed you, you dork,” she whispers, snuggling close against his side. “I missed you too,” he whispers back, nuzzling a kiss into her hair and holding her close. He closes his eyes, breathing in her pine scent. 

God, she smells amazing.

~ ~ ~

so this was meant to be long but the MCU's timeline is confusing and even longer and also I don't like having to bullshit scenes where we know they happened but we don't know the exact details because my brain is just like "But What If 🤭 This Didn't Actually Happen 🤔”

anyway

"Ястреб" = Hawk

"Паук" = Spider

[justsomeclintasha]

-Went for a drive

Clint leaves the note on the kitchen table and heads for his truck, not bothering to grab a jacket. The morning is cool, but the wind on his skin feels nice. Refreshing. He takes a deep breath and starts to drive.

A nondescript country song plays through the radio. It’s one of the few channels he can pick up in the middle of Iowa, and it’s certainly not his taste, but it’s good enough. He rolls the window down, not really listening. A cow stares at him judgmentally as he passes.

“Yeah, well, you smell bad,” he mutters. Up ahead a sign catches his eye. Green Valley Cemetery. Before he can even think about it, he’s pulling into a parking space.

He knows exactly where to find them. Both graves are covered in weeds. The name of his mother is barely visible, his father hidden by a vine. He spits on his father’s grave.

“Hey mom.”

Kneeling down in the damp grass, he begins to clean hers off. His hands are wet and his fingers are cold by the time he’s done. He stands, brushes off the dirt, and studies the stone.

“I didn’t turn out like him.” He pauses, looks around, but he’s alone. “I’m sorry that he- that I couldn’t-“ he sighs, not sure where to go with that thought.

“I met someone. Her name is Natasha. You would have liked her. She’s great, really great. She can’t cook for shit and she hogs the blankets, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I just… I just wanted you to know.”

XXXXX

“You look frozen.”

She cups his hands between her own, breathing warm air between her fingers. He kisses the top of her head. Her hair is messy, pieces sticking out of her braid and fuzzy from where she was laying on the pillow.

“You sleep okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Bad dreams?”

“I’m okay. Just had to go clear my head.”

She lets go of him, moving to pour him a cup of coffee. He takes it gratefully as she passes it over. The warm mug feels good.

“I went to see my mom.” The words are out before he can take them back. “It was… I told her about you. She would have liked you.”

Natasha tilts her head curiously. He avoids her eyes as he sips his drink.

“I don’t know why, I was just driving and then I was there.”

“It’s okay.”

“I know.”

“Are you alright?” she asks gently.

“I think I needed it. The closure, sort of, but that doesn’t feel like the right word. I told her you’re a terrible cook,” he admits, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You did not!” He laughs at her offended expression. They both know it’s true. “Don’t worry, I told her good things too.”

“You better have.”

“How about I make breakfast and I’ll tell you about her?”

“I would love that,” Natasha says honestly, and Clint feels his heart skip a beat.

“Me too.”

[hoppers-babygirl]

Forget It. PT5

Author: hoppers-babygirl All works are mine and none shall be translated, thank you!

kofi: ko-fi.com/hoppers_babygirl

Word Count: 3379

Warnings: Cursing, angst- lots of angst.

Header made by: @firefly-graphics

It was around ten in the morning when you woke up. Looking around groggily you realize a set of arms are wrapped around your waist. Your brows pinch in confusion and you look to find the person the arms belong to only to find Clint’s face buried into your pillow. You move ever so slightly to face him better. You never thought you’d wake up in his arms again one day. Usually you woke up in Bucky’s arms. A cloud of sadness threatened to loom over you but you wouldn’t let it. Not anymore. It wasn’t fair to you to keep overthinking what happened, it’s in the past and you had to pick up the pieces and move on. 

Sure you didn’t exactly have to move into bed with someone but you’re a grown woman and can do whatever you damn well please. As you’re lost in your thoughts Clint wakes up and is watching you with an unbelievably goofy smile. 

“Morning Princess, how’d you sleep?” His hand comes up to brush a few stray hairs from your face. His deep and husky voice brings a smile to your face. 

“Good morning handsome, I slept really well actually.” You turn your face so his hand cradles your jaw and your lips press a few kisses to his palm. His smile somehow grows even bigger. 

“I’m glad. You deserve a good rest especially after such a wild party.” He laughs softly as his thumb gently strokes your cheekbone. You hum quietly for a moment, “I’m guessing the usual breakfast routine?” Your brow quirks as his smile deepens. “You got any good coffee around this place?” He asks before sitting up in bed. You follow suit, pulling the blanket up around you as you rest your back against the headboard. “Yes I do. It’s in the freezer as usual and you obviously know where the coffee pot is.” You get comfortable in bed as he kisses your temple before he stands from bed and makes his way toward the kitchen. 

Smiling to yourself, you sit and recall your previous night. The sunlight shining through the curtains gave you a bit of a headache but you didn’t really mind. In the semi quiet you begin to recall events from the night before. You weren’t exactly sure how to feel, on one hand you can’t believe that you and Clint did what you did, but then again a slight guilt casted a shadow over you. 

Before your thoughts wandered any further your phone rang, it was Bucky. Biting your lip you click ignore and send it to voicemail. You knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore the situation for much longer but for now you wanted to just enjoy breakfast with Clint. You take a deep breath and get up from your position in bed. Standing up you stretch and wince slightly as you stretch your legs. A blush creeps up your cheeks as the pain reminds you of the night before. You hadn’t realized things had gotten that far out of hand but you also couldn't remember much at the moment as the headache began to creep its way over you. 

Quickly you throw on your robe and go to the bathroom to clean up and grab a shower. You washed last night off of your body and soon shut the water off before stepping out to wrap a towel around your body. Going over to your sink you fix your hair and begin to dry off. Clint called out to you letting you know breakfast was finished. 

Once dry and in your robe you step out from the bathroom and throw on an old shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms along with your slippers. Clint stood in the kitchen plating the freshly made pancakes and eggs wearing his pants from the night before, it looked a bit silly seeing him that way but you remembered he didn’t have anything else to possibly wear. You gave his cheek a soft kiss before you sat down in front of a plate. Coffee was brewing while orange juice sat on the counter. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for so I went with the basics. I drank a whole pot of coffee while you were washing up though, so if you want a cup you gotta wait until it’s done. If not, I grabbed you a glass of juice.” He explained before setting the pan that held the leftover scrambled eggs he had made on the stovetop. 

“It looks good, thanks.” You gave a smile before you started to eat your food. You hummed in delight at the taste of the pancakes that filled your plate as well. 

“Mm I think I’ll have coffee but I need syrup.” Clint chuckled and made his way over to the pantry to grab out the syrup for you. 

“Here, but you don’t have to thank me. Everyone needs good hangover food the next day.” He plopped in the chair next to you and began to eat. 

Your phone rang once again but you turned it to silent, Clint eyeballed you curiously as you nonchalantly stood to make yourself the cup of coffee you had wanted. 

“Aren’t you going to answer that? It might’ve been Tony giving us the itemized bill.” He snorted out a laugh. 

You stirred the contents of your mug and shook your head. “No, I want to enjoy breakfast without being disturbed. Well.. as undisturbed as I can be with you around.” You turn on your heel with a smirk teasing your lips. 

Clint dramatically scoffed and clutched his chest. “And here I made you a nice breakfast. Oh the heartbreak..” 

You laughed at his silliness before you took a cautious sip of your coffee. Humming at the taste you and Clint resumed eating breakfast in a peaceful silence. Eventually you finish your meals and you begin to clean up, Clint grabbed another cup of coffee for himself. 

A peaceful silence fell over you both as you cleaned the kitchen up as well as the dishes, eventually Clint finished up his coffee and made his way to go take a shower. After drying your hands off you walked into the living room and laid down on the couch. Your head didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would but it still didn’t feel that great. Your phone vibrates once again causing a groan to fall from your lips, getting up you walked into the kitchen to retrieve it from the kitchen table where you left it last. 

“Hello?” You asked with a slightly harsh tone. 

“I should’ve known you’d be grumpy, you always are after a night of drinking.” Maria’s voice sounded through your speaker. 

You shifted from foot to foot as you felt silly for sounding so rude when you picked up your phone. 

“Sorry, I didn’t look at my screen before I answered. What’s up?” You hummed softly. 

“I just wanted to check on you, I saw you left the party last night with Barton.” She spoke. 

“I’m okay, it was a good night actually. Just got a headache from it all.” You explain as you move around your kitchen, grabbing the Tylenol from the cabinet and taking two tablets with some of Clint’s leftover coffee in his cup. 

“Yeah, it seems you two had quite the party going on before you left. You do know that everyone saw you two leaving the party rather quickly.” Maria wasn’t one for gossip but she was your friend and she did have a tendency to be nosy. 

“All I remember is the music was loud and the tequila was good.” Sure you cut some information out but not everyone needed to know the events plus you weren’t even sure what last night was all about yourself. 

“You know- nevermind. Just make sure you rest up today. Work’s just too quiet without you.” Maria ended the call with those words leaving you wondering what she was going to say. 

But your thoughts were soon interrupted as Clint came out of the bathroom a few moments later with his towel wrapped around his hips perfectly. The sight caused your lips to curl into a smirk, “You going to do a walk of shame back to your place in my towel?” 

“You know me I don’t care if anyone sees me, I’m sure half of this building has seen me naked at least once.” He shrugged with a dopey grin. 

His words made you laugh, he was right. “Just don’t forget to return the towel, okay?” 

His smile fell a bit. “Oh… I figured maybe I’d grab some of my things and come back here.” He explained.

“Oh..OH.. uhm I don’t know I mean isn’t there someone else you could stay with? Someone who you haven’t slept with?” You tease with a half assed smile. 

“I just didn’t think either of us would want to be alone but it’s cool, don’t worry I’ll have your towel back to you.” He began to gather his clothes from the night before. 

A pang of guilt hit your stomach, he wasn’t wrong about you not wanting to be alone but you weren’t even sure what to make of last night so what would it mean if he did stay over? As you were in your thoughts he started for the door which made you scramble to your feet. 

“Wait! Wait- you’re right. I don’t want to be alone but I don’t really know what we’re doing and I just thought time away from one another would give us some time to figure out what the hell we’ve been doing.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

Clint was stopped in his tracks, for a moment he paused as you spoke but soon enough he too stepped out your door. Your shoulders slumped and you let out an exasperated sigh before you moved to lay down in bed again. 

You close your eyes and eventually doze off once again, as you lay curled up in bed you soon feel a dip in the mattress. The feeling caused you to wake up a bit, looking up through tired eyes you could’ve sworn that you saw the long dark hair you had grown used to lying there beside you- a banging noise woke you up causing you to gasp and sit up quickly in bed. Looking around you grew a bit disappointed at the empty space in your bed, it was just a dream.

There was another loud noise which caused you to get up from your bed. You hadn’t realized that before you went back into your room that you locked your door. “Hey, let me in since you won’t answer my calls.” Clint’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. You sigh in relief and open it up to find him now dressed and your towel he took earlier cleaned and folded up neatly in his grasp.

“Must you be so loud?” You groan and move out the way to let him in your apartment once again. 

“Like I said- you didn’t answer my calls and I wanted to bring this back.” He tossed the towel on your kitchen table as he moved his way into your living room nonchalantly.

He plops on your couch and looks back as if asking you to join him. Which you do after closing your door once again. 

“Did you wanna order a pizza?” He glances at his phone for the time. “It’s almost dinner anyways.” 

You hadn’t realized that you were asleep for that long. Plopping onto the couch you nodded, “Yeah might as well.” 

A beat of silence fell over you both before you spoke up, “Why’d you come back after me being an ass?” Your voice soft as you spoke. 

“Because you were right, we probably should figure out what the hell we’ve been doing but I didn’t want to be alone so I came back anyway.” He shrugged.

You nod and hand him the remote to which he puts it on some show with dogs dressed up as cops but you don’t care. It was cute and amusing enough to keep your attention while Clint called in the pizza order. 

After a few episodes he got the text that the pizza delivery guy was waiting in the lobby of the compound so he got up to grab your dinner. While he retrieved the pizzas you decided to grab drinks and plates for you both before bringing them into the living room knowing he'd wanna watch a movie while you two had dinner. A few moments later he came back with four boxes of pizzas which almost made you wish that you had placed the order instead of the man obsessed with pizza. 

Shaking your head with a chuckle you grab two of the boxes to help him as he sets the boxes down in the kitchen. “You’d think I would learn to make the call to the pizza place myself but for some reason I just haven’t yet.” You tease. 

“What can I say I just love pizza.” He joked as he opened the boxes showing you the different pizzas he ordered. One with all meat, one with all cheese, one with veggies and meat and the last with pepperoni and pineapple. You hum at their delicious scent and pick a piece up from each box before you settle back on the couch once again. 

Eventually Clint joined you on the couch with his plate full of pizza and he grabbed the remote control changing the channel to some comedy that played in the background. You didn’t pay much attention to it as you ate but every so often Clint would laugh at the movie's antics. While chewing on a bite of your pizza your mind began to drift, you wondered what Bucky was up to right now, was he and Natasha sharing dinner together just as you and Clint were? Or was he hanging out with Steve and Sam? Maybe he was out with someone else already, you couldn’t blame him if he was. Soon enough your thoughts were interrupted as Clint gently bumped into your shoulder to get you back to reality. 

“Hey.. hellooo.. Watcha thinkin about?” He hummed and set his plate down so he could turn in his seat to face you better. 

“Hmm? Oh- nothing important. Sorry I didn’t mean to space out, guess it’s just one of those days.” You explain, your stomach began to knot up so you set your pizza down as well. 

“Yeah I get that, I mean I keep thinking is Natasha thinking about me as much as I have been of her? No offense.” He said. 

You nodded. “I don’t mind. I’ve been doing the same thing too about Bucky of course, but it’s also been nice to hangout with you again before I totally hated your guts.” You tease with a small smile. 

He chuckles in agreement. “Yeah today has been kinda nice, no major arguments or anything crazy like that.” 

You grow quiet for a moment. “So.. why did you and Nat break up? I mean she’s clearly the one you wanted to be with all along.” Clint squirms in his seat at your question. 

“I told her that I loved her and she kicked me out.” He said quietly. 

“That's a little weird but I mean I don’t blame her.” You say. 

“What do you mean? Are you siding with her?” He grew defensive. 

“Clint you can’t really be mad at her right? Well I guess you are if you slept with me but seriously being told I love you from someone is big especially with her history.” You go on to explain. 

“What do you mean someone with her history?” He asked, aggravation laced in his tone. 

“Did you know nothing about her? C’mon man. She has been mistreated by men all her life and then finally she trusts one enough to let into her life and then you expect her to return this grand gesture? You should’ve realized that her boyfriend telling her that you love her would be a much bigger deal to her than it was to you.” You explain.

“But it was a big deal to me as well!” He protests. 

You shake your head. “No Clint, you’re not getting it. She’s probably scared to tell you that she loves you too because she's been manipulated so much in her life that she doesn’t believe she can have anything good happen to her like the man she probably loves, tell her plain as day that he loves her.” You weren’t sure why you were defending Natasha but if she and Clint could salvage what they had then maybe you and Bucky could too… 

Clint shook his head at you but deep down he knew you were right. Dealing with Natasha was almost dealing with a skittish cat, one false move and she would be spooked. “I felt so stupid after telling her but you’re right. I never really thought about it like that until now. I just thought maybe she didn’t really love me, that maybe I was too needy or too childish for her and that telling her that I loved her was the final straw for her. But I just don’t get why she’d be hanging around Bucky if she really did love me.” He said. 

“Probably the same reason you and I are hanging around each other, we’re familiar. Now don’t get me wrong it’s hard seeing them together but you have to remember they’ve known each other longer than we have, longer than you and Natasha have known one another. And even if she doesn’t actually have any feelings for him, she still knows that it won’t need to go any further than what it might have already, which means she won’t have to deal with something so life changing. Why didn’t you just go to her and talk this out instead of coming here to get drunk and fuck? I mean hey the sex was good, great even but you’re smarter than that. You know you two would have figured things out.”  

He sighs and gives you a shrug. “I don’t know… maybe because with you it wasn’t so hard. I love you meant I love you and I want you out the apartment really meant I want you out the apartment. But with Natasha sometimes it was a guessing game, sometimes things had double meanings to her and I was tired of trying to play her game.” He said. 

You shake your head at him once again. “You wanted out because shit got too hard and you didn’t want to keep putting in the effort to fix things because that’s what you do.” 

“You know I wish I didn’t even answer your question. You have no right to say this shit when your relationship went to hell too.” He throws in your face. 

You scoff. “You do realize we were engaged right? I know your habits Clint. You might be mad at Natasha for being the way she is but you’re just the same Clint. You play this game of just being the dumb country boy but you know better! You only play dumb so people won’t expect as much out of you as they should!” Your voice grows louder with your words.

“Maybe this is why Bucky left you because you like to play therapist to everyone but yourself. Have you sat back and really thought about what went wrong in your own relationship or are you just diagnosing your breakups as everyone else's problems?” Clint spat out before he stood up and headed for the door. “You know what this is why I left the first time, I shouldn’t have made the mistake of coming back here.” 

“Go ahead Clint, walk out on me once again just because you don’t like what you’re hearing!” You call out as he nears the door, his hand gripping the handle he turns back and looks at you just before slamming the door behind him. You throw a pillow at the door with an annoyed growl.

Taglist: @bubblegumbarnes@geeksareunique@lostinthoughtsandfeelings@atinytinyhypewoman@vicisbookishblog@sourpatchspinster@abswritesfandoms@writeroutoftime@of-outerspace@tazzi-baby@tcc-gizmachine@wally-darling-hyperfixation@xoxabs88xox@multifanworld@supraveng@boundtomyfate@iheartsebstan@ilovemysupersoldiers@queenoftheunderdark@cobym@marvelkeepsmesane@tommosononlyangel@daintysan@gay-vibing@starrybeesandlibraries@marauders162@lethallyprotected@winterslove1917@cjand10@sergeantbarnes1917@deedee8855@boundtomyfate

and anyone else I missed!! <3

[braveclementine]

We're Okay

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

Steve came running over as Elizabeth closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. Pietro was clutching his side, the one bullet that had actually hit him.

"What'd you do that for?" Pietro asked, holding his side tighter.

"Cause." Elizabeth whispered. "I actually had armor."

"Elizabeth?" You asked shakily and she shook her head.

"Just tell me where the wounds are." she said.

You took her hand, letting her fingers touch each one. Turquoise aurora filled her hands and you watched in amazement as the bullets flew out of her skin and the skin healed over. Once she was done, she pushed herself weakly to her knees, resting a hand on Pietro's hip and doing the same. Exhausted, she slumped forward.

"Sorry." She panted, pushing herself to her feet and staggering. Steve caught her around the waist. "I've never put out so much energy before."

You laughed shakily. "We're all okay?"

"Yes." Pietro said. "I must go back for my sister though."

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. "The ship. Go back to the ship. All of us. It's up to her, Thor, and Tony now."

You all followed that direction, though Steve hovered on the island. That is, until it suddenly dropped and he jumped onto the lifeboat. You looked over the edge in fear because Tony had been under the island.

"Tony!" You shouted into your coms. But there was nothing from him.

Sam landed on the deck next, folding his wings in and flipping his goggles up. "Everyone okay?"

You didn't know. Why had Wanda left the post? How had it been turned?

You suddenly saw lightning in the sky and the entire island started to explode below the lifeboats.

"Tony?" You whispered, tears falling down your face. "Tony please."

You bent your head and prayed.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

You walked happily on Tony's arm as you moved through the new Avengers compound. You were wearing a blouse and skirt and Elizabeth was dressed rather similarly on Steve's side. Thor was between Tony and Steve as the men talked.

"The rules have changed." Tony said. "We're dealing with something new."

"Oh, the Vision is artificial intelligence." Steve said.

"A machine." Tony said.

"So, it doesn't count?"

"No, it's not like a person lifting a hammer." Tony said and you laughed although you were wondering why Steve was walking around with both hands on his belt buckle. Were his pants to big for him and he was holding them up? Or, you tried not to laugh, was he attempting to hide his boner because he kept looking at Elizabeth quite often. Or, maybe that was just how Captain America walked.

"Right, different rules for us." Steve said.

"Nice guy. Artificial."

"Thank you." Steve said.

"He can wield the hammer. He can keep the mind stone." Thor finally said, smirking over the fact that they were both deciding that it wasn't because they weren't worthy (though you were still certain in your mind that Steve was), it was simply because Vision wasn't a human. Although, that also left debate for your daughter who Sam was bringing home to you right now.

"It's safe with the Vision." Thor continued. "And these days, safe is in short supply."

"But if you put the hammer in an elevator-" Steve argued.

"It would still go up." Tony said.

"Elevator's not worthy" Steve said in an almost sing-song voice. You giggled.

"I'm gonna miss these little talks of ours." Thor said, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder.

"Not if you don't leave." Tony said.

"I have no choice." Thor sighed. "The Mind Stone is the fourth infinity stones to show up in the last few years. It's not a coincidence. Someone has been playing an intricate game and has made pawns of us. And once all these pieces are in position-"

"Triple Yahtzee." Tony and Elizabeth asked together.

You groaned, "Tony you've infected her."

Steve chuckled and then asked, "You think you can find out what's coming?"

"I do." Thor said, coming to a stop now that you were all outside. "Besides this one," Thor tapped Tony in the chest, "There's nothing that can't be explained."

Elizabeth hugged you and Tony quickly and pecked Steve's cheek before dancing over to where Thor was standing. "I'll see you guys eventually!"

"Please bring the kids next time." Tony said, crossing his arms. "Everleigh and them can have a playdate."

Elizabeth's radiant smile beamed at them, before she slipped her hand onto Thor's arm. Thor lifted his hand towards the sky and a brilliant column of rainbow light came down and pulled the two of them up.

The three of you stared down at the burned circle of grass.

"That man has no regard for lawn maintenance." Tony complained. The three of you turned to go back. You could see Sam in the distance and you smiled. "I'm gonna miss him though. And you're gonna miss me. There's gonna be a lot of manful tears."

You bit your tongue so you didn't laugh.

"I will miss you, Tony." Steve said and you tried harder not to laugh. Steve sounded so robotic saying it, it was hilarious.

"Yeah? Well it's time for us to tap out." Tony said as the orange car pulled up to where you had stopped by the road. "Maybe I should take a page out of Barton's book. Build Y/N a farm. Hope nobody blows it up."

You smirked.

"The simple life." Steve said, coming to a stop and placing his hands at his belt again. You turned around so you could giggle in peace.

"You'll get there one day." Tony said softly.

"I don't know." Steve sighed. "Family, stability. . . The guy who wanted all that went into the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

"You all right?" Tony asked and you stepped forward, taking Everleigh from Sam's hands.

"Thank you so much Sam." You said sincerely. "And sorry I pulled you away to go to Sokovia."

"Nah, it was fun." Sam laughed. "Life threatening, but fun."

You smirked. "Steve and Nat training you later?"

"Yep. With Rhodes, the Maximoff twins, and um, what's the guys name?"

"The Vision." You answered, kissing Everleighs forehead. "I missed you so much sweetheart."

"You're not joining in?" Sam asked.

"Nah. I'm gonna go home, take care of Tony's needs." You smirked. "And then I'm gonna stay with my daughter. Don't worry though, I'll join your for training next week. We'll get into shape."

"Alright." Sam smirked, clapping you on the shoulder. "Stay in touch sugar."

"Will do Tator Tot." You retorted.

"Baby cakes?" Sam asked with another smirk.

"Pop Tart?"

"Honey?"

"Cutie Pie?"

"Cherry Pie?"

"Pumpkin Pie?"

"You better be talking about food and not giving each other lovable nicknames." Tony called over his shoulder to you two.

You winked at Sam. "See ya later hun."

"You too sweetheart." Sam said, trying not to laugh.

Steve shook his head, clapping Sam on the back, pushing him hurriedly towards the building like he thought Tony was going to kill him.

"I can shoot him from here." Tony stared after Sam.

You laughed, passing him Everleigh and taking the car keys from him. "Get in baby. We're going for a ride." 

[yyink]

Doomed Clintasha 😔

clintasha makes me so weak

[eichan2d]

Ser cursi mi pasión. They're having a date in a snowy day and Clint it's a "the cold is mental if the outfit it's great" or something.

[loomontoia]

It has been a while since I posted here

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 14 - Left for dead

Warnings: attack, blood, violence, being jumped/being beaten

Word Count: 1.2k (gif not mine)

Summary: Maria and Clint sort out the mess that is Shield and Clint goes to make amends for not visiting Natasha.

Masterlist.

Whumptober Masterlist.

<3 thank you for the comments - I hope you know who you are. You all get a very big hug and/or a crisp high five. <3

.

Clint knocks twice.

Maria opens the door, rolling her eyes when she sees his offering.

“Really? Kung pow chicken?”

Clint waves it in front of her face.

“Fine, you can come in,” she concedes.

“How’d you go?”

Maria shrugs, closing the door behind them.

“I’ve been working with Fury, more so than before, and I like the way he operates. He’s methodical. We think we’re getting closer to a full list. He’s been working with the WSC, but I fear Thompson knows something is up.”

Clint nods.

“Coulson said the same thing, there’s been less debriefs and we haven’t been sent on any more missions. He said it’s because of Natasha’s intel, but I don’t think so.”

Maria opens the box and the smell infuses the room.

“God I’m hungry,” she sighs, “have you seen Natasha yet?”

Clint shakes his head, guiltily.

“I don’t have an answer. I don’t know what I want from her. I know what I want for her, but I don’t know what I want for me. How I fit.”

Quieter, he whispers, “I don’t know if I’m up to helping her.”

Maria throws a pen at him.

“You’re an idiot.”

Clint rubs the spot where the pen hit.

“Ow.”

“You’re an idiot,” she repeats.

“Of course you’re not up to helping her.”

The bluntness makes him stare at her.

“What I mean to say is, that no one is up to that task. Why do you think in AA it’s one day at a time? None of the problems that lead to the addiction can be solved overnight, none of the problems that have come from her trauma can be solved in a day, a week or a year. It’s never ending. So if you help? Even a little? It all adds up. Just be consistent. This will be long, but it's not forever.”

Clint eats thoughtfully.

Her words reverberate in his head, and hold a truth he hadn’t considered.

“Yeah.”

Standing Maria offers him a drink.

He accepts and sips it, looking at the paperwork she’s compiled.

“Shrike’s dirty?” he asks, surprised.

Maria nods.

“Yeah, that one surprised me too. I liked him.”

“How do you know?”

“Money,” she sighs.

“I hate this,” Clint replies, flipping through the pages.

“Better to have them out, rather than relying on them and getting us killed.”

“I know.”

There’s a mutual silence that envelops the room as both finish eating and start sorting evidence.

.

Fury furrows his brow.

The hologram on his left flickers, then his right, and finally the one in front of him.

“This is highly unorthodox,” the one in front of him frowns.

There’s a sense of unease, and Fury hopes that none of the people in front of him are in cahoots with the Russians.

It was unlikely, but not impossible.

He presents his evidence.

The pictures of Dreykov standing and shaking hands with Thompson, and the one where they’re sitting at a table seemingly in a meeting, feel particularly damning.

Maria had done a good job making the information simple and concise, explaining the impact on the Council and all it stood for.

They’d need their resources if they were to have any chance at deposing Thompson.

Fury finishes on the plan for quiet infiltration. That each member would just… disappear and be replaced, to serve as a warning; he hoped.

The woman seated for the Oceania region nods along. She also fills in some gaps.

“We’ve long since suspected there was a mole in SHIELD,” she announces. “I am willing to back your cause.”

“Seconded,” comes another voice.

“Your motion is passed. We will provide the munitions and men you have asked for. The Raft will be set up for interrogation and imprisonment.”

Fury nods, pleased.

This was a good play, and he would tell Maria as such.

“Be careful,” the faceless woman tells him.

“We will be in touch.”

.

Clint walks the familiar route to see Natasha. The bag of donuts in his hand is a peace offering for not seeing her the past week.

Guilt presses down on him for it, but the reprieve and recalibration of himself was needed.

Now set up with a therapist, again, he knows that he can do better because he can show up for her.

It’s not an excuse. It's a fact.

Sharon isn’t on watch and a man he doesn’t know waves him through.

Clint doesn’t like it, but he hasn’t been here enough lately to know all the guards on rotation.

He continues on, wondering how she’s going.

A week had probably felt like a lifetime.

Maria had checked in, so had Coulson, even Fury; their report visits were minimalistic because of the circumstances.

Maria had said she was quiet.

He hopes it’s been okay.

He rounds the last corner and finds her sitting on the floor staring straight ahead.

He would say that she’s meditating.

She doesn’t move as he comes into view, she doesn’t even acknowledge him.

He waves to open the door, but nothing happens.

He looks up to the camera and waves again, not wanting to go back to see what’s happened.

Natasha is watching now.

Sharp eyes look on as he holds up donuts and smiles.

Clint hears footsteps down the hall. Automatically, he turns and sees it is the guard from down the hall, another man with him.

“Hey,” Clint greets.

They don’t return it.

The first lengthens his baton, the second shoots a taser, hitting Clint in the chest.

Pain and electricity alights his body as he tips forward.

He watches as it happens with a detachment, unable to react except to drop the donuts.

Natasha moves to the glass.

They close on him quickly.

The baton hits him, first in the body, then in the legs.

The second man just using fists.

They hit hard. They hit fast.

The beating is rough. Clint feels his breath taken away between blows and he curls himself up into a ball.

If he can wait...

If he can get control of one of them...

A blow to the head distorts time, and pain, never ending pain, radiates out. White, hot, searing pain.

He can’t hear their yelling.

His nose is bleeding, blood in his throat.

Natasha, he thinks idly, they’re going after her.

He hazards a glance up and sees her pounding on the glass. Her lips are moving, knuckles split and bleeding as she tries to break it.

It’s no use, he wants to tell her, it’s too thick.

But still she tries.

There’s a break as one of the men pauses. Clint has enough wherewithal to grabthe baton and pull it towards him.

He knows his ribs are broken.

Probably his face too.

His arm maybe from protecting his body.

Still he tries.

But the next blow feels like a car hits him.

He yells out.

As he fades into darkness, all he sees is Natasha yelling and punching the glass, blood on the wall, blood on the floor.

[scarlettjohanssones]

WAIT THE WAY I NEED THIS FIC SO BAD ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!? please i need it!!! AND THIS ART IS LITERALLY SO PERFECT SKSKSKSKKS

I drew some art for @quidnunc-life's clintasha The Proposal AU! The fic itself is still a WIP, but I'm already obsessed with the little tidbits she's shared with me in chat 💜❤️

This is also technically my first complete clintasha art ahhh, hopefully I'll find the energy to make more someday :D [reblogs are appreciated :")]

[flexitarianfandom]

Curtain Call

CloudAtlas

Summary:

Clint Barton has a problem

Written for the prompt: You’re the neighbour that keeps their curtains open, even when changing, and I can’t talk to you without blushing.

Marvel, Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

[justsomeclintasha]

It was bad. -Maria

Clint scowls at his phone and tosses it on the coffee table.

Of course it had been bad. Because why would they send Natasha on an easy mission without him? If only he hadn’t broken his wrist last week. If only Fury believed he could still be useful with one working arm.

He could, mind you.

The sound of the lock turning pulls him from his thoughts. Natasha steps inside and drops her duffel bag on the floor. Her hair hangs in damp curls over his sweatshirt, rolled at the cuffs to fit her small frame.

“Hey. Survive here without me?”

“Barely. I’ve eaten nothing but pizza for the last three days.”

She moves to sit on the couch next to him. Dog Cops plays in the background, volume off, subtitles on. Absently, he scratches his skin near the top of the cast. It doesn’t really itch at the moment. She picks at her nails, sitting just a little too tense, movements a little too controlled.

“Stop analyzing me.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m going to make some tea.”

“I can get it for you.”

“I got it.”

“Okay.”

Quietly, she moves to the kitchen. He closes his eyes. The cupboard creaks, the metal tea canister opening, then closing as she takes out a tea bag. He can picture her reaching for the jar of honey- and then something smashes.

In an instant he’s up and moving into the kitchen. She’s frozen, staring at the broken glass on the floor.

Honey seeps slowly into the throw rug, a small cheap one they got from Walmart, she doesn’t even like it but it was good enough and now it’s sticky and ruined and that’s never going to come out and-

Her breath catches on a sob and she presses a hand over her mouth.

“Hey hey it’s okay,” he soothes, leaning down to make eye contact. She shakes her head, letting him pull her into his arms.

“I hate that carpet,” she chokes out, somewhere between laughing and crying.

“We’ll get a new one.”

“I just..” She manages a deep, shuddering breath, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I’m just so tired.”

“Come on. You need to get some sleep.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Course I will.”

“What about…?”

“It can wait til tomorrow,” he says gently. And it doesn’t matter if he’s talking about the mess, or the conversation in their future. It can wait.