don't do that. don't give me hope.

Clint laughed, the sound loud and bright. “You know, that’s not actually a bad answer,” he said, smirking at Shuri. “I mean, what’s more American than eggs? Cap eats eggs! A lot of them, I’ve seen it in action, it’s astounding really,” he quipped. He paused for a second, frowning. “Now I want eggs.”

“I’m florescent and that’s weird.” 

“You’re….what?” Natasha asked the moment the statement left her boyfriend’s lips. She looked up at him from her position on the couch with a worried expression. He didn’t look florescent to her. Maybe he was drinking too much coffee. Or too much vodka. The redhead pushed herself up from the couch and met him in a few strides. Her green eyes scanned him closely, hands on his shoulders as she looked at him. “Did you get into the vodka orange juice again?” She asked, before leaning in and pressing her lips to his forehead. Natasha lingered, before murmuring, “You look normal to me. Ruggedly handsome, irresistible. But not florescent.” 

They were sitting there, on his couch, Dog Cops playing on the TV. But he wasn’t really watching it. He was thinking -- and usually that was a dangerous gamble for him. Either he’d wind up confusing himself, or more likely, fall down some rabbit hole that was better left untouched. But today, it didn’t seem like a terrifying prospect. Today, Nat was beside him, and his thoughts didn’t seem quite so dark. Even with the recent memories of that woman who had looked like Natasha, and sounded like Natasha, and almost was Natasha, swirling in his head. He wasn’t thinking about that Natasha, the one he couldn’t save. He wasn’t thinking about the times he hadn’t been able to save his Natasha either. He wasn’t thinking about his mistakes or his failures or regrets. He was thinking about her, and how far they’d come, and how amazing it was, to just be here. 

He didn’t even realize he’d spoken out-loud until she crossed over to him. She touched his shoulders, kissed his forehead, called him irresistible, and he laughed, beaming up at her. “Apple juice,” he corrected, smirking. “But no, that’s not what I meant. I... feel florescent,” he said, feeling a flush creep up his neck. He set one hand on the back of her neck, resting gently in her hair. “I spent a long time in the dark, you know? My head -- it feels like a shadow sometimes. But not today. Today I feel like I’m glowing.” 

Clint’s eyebrows shot up and he blinked at the girl. “Uh...” He trailed off, glancing around the street. “Yeah. That’s why I try to avoid talking about murder at all, ya know?” Did she recognize him? She wasn’t anyone he’d gone after while Ronin, but otherwise, why would she be saying this stuff? 

Clint held up his catch proudly. He was freezing half to death, but he had done it. “No promises,” he said, grinning at Coulson, waggling the little fish in the air. “A little fish smack will do you wonders, bro, trust me!” he insisted, waving it a little closer to Coulson’s face. They had both needed this. Something simple and a little outside the city, something to take away from the madness of the last few... well, pretty much their entire lives. “We could eat this!” he said excitedly. “Do you know how to cook a fish? You know how to cook everything, right?” 

“I’ve never been scared of your opinions or your feelings,” Clint pointed out, smirking lightly. He reached over, squeezed Natasha’s hand. “Well, okay, your opinions on how Budapest went, now that is terrifying,” he joked. “But seriously, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. What was it like over there?” he asked, free hand pulling on his earlobe. “I mean, for you. You went to a whole other dimension -- it must’ve been weird.” 

“Your life isn’t...” Clint trailed off, frowning for a second. “All right, well it is. But in that case, I choose to focus on the funny. Like hey, I was chasing down a guy last week and he would’ve gotten away except his belt got hooked on a fence -- that was pretty funny,” he offered, smirking at Wanda. He paused for a second. “So, uh, just so we’re on the same page here -- what exactly is sad and funny like our lives?” 

(✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): Your mind came up on Cerebro. It’s not like I was /searching/ for it. (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): You have very loud internal opinions about coffee grinders, you know that? (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): How do you think telepaths feel about you? (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): I have a sense of humor! Just not about barbecuing! (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): You’re not Steve either, right? (✉ → avenger no. 3 🏹): Too many blond white guys on one team. It’s just confusing.

(✉️ ➡️ Clint): I’ve got your six.  (✉️ ➡️ Clint): Promise.   (✉️ ➡️ Clint): I love you more.   

(✉ → decent sniper): Yeah, Hydra was real nice about things like that. It’s unfortunate their pension programme was so non-existent. (✉ → decent sniper): The good decisions part, but sure. Is the squirrel thing a regular occurence? (✉ → decent sniper): UNSENT Still hate that name. (✉ → decent sniper): Stubborn’s one word. Guess it’s weird having people look at my brother one way, you know? (✉ → decent sniper): Helping an amnesiac former assassin work out what he did?  (✉ → decent sniper): Pretty sure there’s a few bombs out there still waiting to go off. I might be able to piece together the way to them, if I nudge some boxes around. (✉ → decent sniper): I wasn’t the Summer Soldier. (✉ → decent sniper): Better to make things simple. It’s when you start thinking about it that you’re stuck.

[📱 zu herr pizza ] noted. [15 minutes later]  [📱 zu herr pizza ] okay it’s downloaded, i think. or uploaded. or leftloaded. [📱 zu herr pizza ] the little circle dissapeared and now i can open it.

It was cold, but that didn’t bother him. He’d been colder. The bruises and scrapes he had from handling things in the city, from fighting creepy-crawly monsters and all manner of nastiness from other  universes, those didn’t bother him either. He’d been in more pain. 

But he’d never felt quite so alone before.

He must have. When he left Barney in the circus. When the Avengers split up. When Kate left. When Nat...

Clint decided to focus less on thinking and more on target shooting. He was on the roof of his apartment. Closer to the city, less memories of Nat to make him ache. He still ached. His fingertips ached from the hours of uninterrupted practice, but it was the rest of him too. His legs were sore from running and searching for her. His jaw burned from screaming her name, and his ears were ringing, so he turned off the aids. His arms ached with the weight of missing her. His heart... god his heart had been through so much. 

He lined up a shot, imagining this one was gonna go right through him. One last jolt and then he could be done. (Not really, he’d never do it, he just -- Stark was right, sometimes you got tired.) But just as he was about to let loose, something much faster whizzed past him, going straight through the bullseye. He turned, switching on the aids while he looked.

(✉️ ➡️ Clint): We’ll figure it out, okay?  (✉️ ➡️ Clint): I guess it’s a good thing I’m not going anywhere anymore, huh?  (✉️ ➡️ Clint): Yeah, I know.  (✉️ ➡️ Clint): Okay. 

[📱 zu herr pizza ] what’s snake?

[📱 zu herr pizza ] obviously it doesnt have a real snake on it. i would have to move it to communicate.

Sniper training wasn’t something that Bucky had particularly enjoyed – he didn’t enjoy anything about the war, didn’t flourish in aspects of it like the other men did, wanted nothing more than to be home with his ma and his sisters – but it was something he was good at. That meant it was a little easier to give his time to than duking it out in the trenches for hours at a time. There was something comforting about working out angles and wind resistance, something that meant Bucky was the one in control, even of this single, small moment. So when Barton offered a shoot off … “You’re on,” Bucky said, and then held up a finger. “On one condition – you can’t go crying to the other Avengers when I hand you your ass.”

Of course, Bucky knew that it was going to be the other way around. Clint Barton was a legend – one of few non-enhanced humans on the Avengers, a founding member at that. “The world just keeps rolling whether you’re on the train or not, right?” Bucky learned long ago to roll with the punches. He had more of an acclimatisation period than Steve was allowed. “Circus. That definitely explains the flourish,” Bucky said with a wry smile, looking over at the other man. Something definitely shifted, but Bucky knew what it was like to talk about the past. He preferred to keep that aspect of his life with Steve or Sharon, focus on the future with other people. “I ain’t ever been to a– no, I have.” There was the music playing in the back of his mind, but little else. “Felt larger than life, from what I can remember. Guessing behind the scenes was a little different, right?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Clint said, grinning crookedly. “Pretty sure that’s never gonna happen.” There weren’t a lot of things that Clint Barton was confident about. But a bow was an extension of his arm. A gun was like another hand. His eyes were sights that were always accurate, and he could shooter harder, faster, more than anybody else. He had made sure of that. 

Kate was a close second. He hoped Bucky was all right with fourth, because Natasha was up there too. 

“Dark humor, oh, I like that,” Clint said. “We don’t have enough of that here. Tony tries his best, but ya know, throwing us all in jail kinda soured our sense of humor for a bit.” Yeah, they would get along just fine, Clint was sure of it. “Style points never hurt a guy, right?” he asked, proudly sticking his hands on the hips of three-day old sweat pants. Watching Bucky struggle to remember, grasping at wisps, it made a guy think. At least Clint knew where he came from -- even if it wasn’t exactly a pleasant picture. “It was a front. For all kinds of crime,” he explained. “Robberies. Drugs. Kidnapping. Murder. I was a part of that. I was just a kid, I wasn’t trusted to do a lot, but... I did my share of futzed up stuff.” And more, of his own free will. Whether the circus screwed him up or whether he always had a screw loose -- well that he might never know. “I don’t talk about it much,” he continued after a beat. “I tell everyone a little bit, let ‘em know what they’re getting into. It’s part of the official record,” he shrugged. “But everyone’s got stuff they don’t talk about.” The cave. The ice. The experiment. The ballet. The banishment. The betrayal. They all had mistakes, plenty of sins, not one of them felt truly innocent. Bucky was in good company. 

In retrospect, Natasha guessed that she had loved Clint for a lot longer than she’d been able to admit. For a long time, he was the only person that she trusted. He was the only person that she could talk to. There was a reason they were partners and it wasn’t just because she wouldn’t work with anyone else. There had been other people. Matthew Murdock, for example. He was a good guy. He was kind and treated her well. However, when it came to that 4 letter word, she found herself withdrawing. He said it and she split immediately. Still hadn’t spoke to him to this day.

Things with Clint were different. There was always some unspoken thing between them. He was her best friend. Her partner. That was what she told everyone. On the inside, however, it was always something more. Something that she hadn’t been able to admit until a few years ago. It scared her. She spent so much time ignoring it. So much time running from it that now - it all seemed like wasted time. Time that she’d never be able to get back.

That was why now - she held onto every moment. She held onto him tightly and refused to let go. Not again. Never again.

Marriage wasn’t something that Natasha had ever let herself think about. It wasn’t something that she imagined like all of the other girls. She wasn’t built like other women. Marriage wasn’t something that Natasha had ever imagined. But now? Laying there in Clint’s arms - she could see it. Hell, she wanted it. It scared her, but she couldn’t deny what she felt. She wouldn’t. The redhead brushed a kiss across his lips and smiled, “I can do whatever I want.” 

For a brief second, Natasha let herself imagine that. She imagined marrying Clint Barton and the entire affair. She imagined spending the rest of her life with him. Being Mrs. Natasha Barton and finally getting rid of the last name that tied her to her past. Then - much like everything else in their lives it took a turn for the worst. 

It wasn’t often that marriage came without the promise of children. There was the picture perfect idealization that she was sure Clint had somewhere in the back of his mind. She didn’t need to look at him to know what her words had done. She could feel it in her bones. For a long time, she had no regrets. She didn’t want what she couldn’t have. But now? She did and the mere thought of not being able to have it tore her apart. 

Natasha didn’t mind silence. She had always preferred it. But this silence? It was deafening. She felt like she was suffocating on her emotions. Then, like a million times before - Clint Barton was there to save her. He kissed her and for a second she was surprised and emotional - but she returned the kiss fervently. She shook her head and replied softly, “There’s nothing I can do about it. I just… I wanted you to know. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.” Clint needed to know. He needed to know before doing something that he’d regret in the long run. 

Nadia always loved flying. It was one of the things that made her happiest to have been able to make her own suit. Right now, Jarvis wasn’t particularly fond of it, mainly because it meant that Nadia was able to go off on her own while he was unable to catch up. To him, it was his responsibility to make sure she stayed safe, but she knew what she was doing. She was old enough to not need a chaperone everywhere she went. 

Seeing arrows shooting through the air caught Nadia’s attention and she flew towards them, careful to not get hit. She’d thought it might’ve been Kate, but after following them to the source, she found Clint. He’d already spotted her, so she landed on the rooftop next to him, holding out her hand when she was full size. “Hello! I’m Nadia.”

Clint blinked as the person materialized in front of him. He was used to shrinky-dink powers, but it was more the fact she listened. A lot of people were skittish about actually stopping to chat with an Avenger, even one like him. 

“I have a friend who goes by that,” he said. “Sometimes anyway, it’s a little complicated. I’m Clint,” he said, extending a hand. “Sometimes go by Hawkeye.”

LOOK! I have a phone! || scarlet