Clint x Natasha FanFic's

A distraction and an Eyeball by fifthofnovember

They walk along, in step and silence, Tony listening to his shoes click on the pavement with his eyes low, and Clint with his on the teenaged couple walking arm in arm across the road before Tony even sees them. Clint's much more in his element out here, where the motion and light (even though there's too much for his liking from street level) lets him see. He'd rather have the distraction to focus, no matter how ridiculous Tony or anyone else thinks it sounds, rather than sit and navel gaze and get lost in his own head. He doesn't particularly like it in there. Especially lately.

"So. Anyway." He glances at Tony, like he wants Tony's permission to continue, just in case the sound of his voice is intruding in Tony's headspace.

"Anyway." It's a mood Clint wants more than a place, if he's going to talk. Even though Tony has no idea where they hell they are, it seems like Clint knows, or maybe that's just because all these neighborhoods start to look the same the more of them you see. And they've both seen a lot.

"I almost did do it."

"Almost?" The very word strikes Tony as odd, because he doesn't "almost" anything, and Clint certainly doesn't either.

"Yeah. I would have. If it wasn't for Natasha." Clint stops, runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on the back of his neck, looks around. He looks up at the light and god damn he hates that fake, orange sodium glow. It's almost insulting. He can't see anything. He takes a step away from Tony, then two steps back and sits down on a bench with his elbows on his knees. Tony sits down too, but like he doesn't want to make too much noise, with one hip on the edge of the bench and waits.

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The cell is small and square, and this one has no windows rather than being all windows. Clint, unlike Natasha, doesn't even try to sneak up on Loki. He wants Loki to know he's there.

"Looks like your brother is running a little late." Loki just looks up with that smirk Clint has come to detest. "So we get to have a little chat. Just man to man."

"Need I remind you, Agent Barton," and Clint realizes that he suddenly hates the sound of his own name, "that only one of us is a man?"

"Finally, we're starting to see eye to eye."

"Since you mentioned it, I liked your baby blues much better."

"Yeah, well, I didn't. Blue's never really been my color."

"Why did you come here, Agent Barton?" He's sure Loki's just doing it now to see him bristle. He clenches and unclenches his left hand which is justitching for it. "Did you come here to kill me? Not much glory in shooting - what's the expression - a fish in a barrel?"

"There's not going to be any glory in your death. I didn't come here for glory. That was you, remember? Why don't you remind me how that worked out?"

"My glory isn't to be found here."

"Right, right. Asgard. King, betrayal. That line is getting really tired."

"Then state your business. You're boring me." Loki crosses his legs, leans back, crosses his arms over his chest and he's still smirking.

"I haven't been sleeping too well lately."

"Oooooh. I'm so sorry to hear that, Agent Barton." One more time with that, and Clint thinks he's going to skip taking the shot, bend those bars with his bare hands, and choke Loki to death with his knee on his chest and his hands around his throat. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yeah. Hold still." Clint brings his hand up in front of him, flexes it a few times. "Although, I don't really need you to. In fact, this might be even more fun if you don't."

"Clint!" He turns on his heel and man, how can Natasha always creep up on him like that? "What are you doing?"

He disregards her and turns to face Loki again because really, shouldn't it be obvious? To her, of all people.

"Clint, this isn't going to prove anything." He really wishes she'd stop talking, because it's distracting and it's spoiling his moment. "So you kill him. It doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything."

"Really? Does it? What does it change, huh? What does it undo? Does it bring Coulson back? Does it..."

He wheels on her like a panther, his blood boiling and he's not sure what he's angry about, or maybe he's angry about everything, but he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears and the rage is going to eat him alive if he doesn't make a move. "It. Changes. Everything." Natasha flinches because he's never yelled at her before, never screamed at her like he is now. "I had a knife to your throat, Nat. I was going to kill you. I would have killed you."

"But you didn't."

"Easy to say that now, isn't it? Don't you get it? How can you trust me?"

"That wasn't you."

"It would have been my hands that cut your throat." His voice is icy now as he turns his back to her and he's digging his nails into his palm. Natasha realizes she much preferred him screaming.

She stands behind him, not so close as to crowd him, because she does trust him, except not now, now she doubts him just a little, but she wants her hand on his bow arm when he draws. If she's touching him, if she can feel what he feels, if she's connected to him someplace, she might be able to understand it, might be able to forgive him. Maybe. He stands there, shaking but not really, shaking inside but not out, she can feel it, and of course he can make the shot, of course he can, he could do it with his eyes closed...

Clint reaches behind him, the motion as natural to him as breathing, Loki is still smirking but Clint can't even see anymore, he's shooting on instinct which is all he needs, really. All he's ever needed.

Then Natasha can feel the tension go out of him, physically, ooze out onto the floor and slither away, as he puts the arrow back in the quiver.

Loki is stone faced and now Clint is smirking. "It's better this way. Now, no matter where you go, you'll always know you're only alive because I let you live. You don't deserve to be killed by an arrow off my bow. I have more respect for it than that."

He brushes past Natasha and out the door. She stands there, staring at Loki, thinking of all the ways it could have gone differently. How everything could have gone differently.

"Seems your boyfriend lacks conviction." The words and their significance aren't lost on her, and still have the same impish, sing-song, sickening tone, but for some reason, the smile has been wiped off his face.

"He could have killed you too," she mumbles over her shoulder as she walks out.

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"So she didn't really stop you, did she?" It's just come to Tony's attention that his hip is really hurting from sitting in this position for so long, he's cold, and it's completely dark now.

"Actually, I think she did."

"You wish she hadn't?"

"I don't know, Stark." Clint stands up, brushes his pants off. "I don't know."