Sacrifice verse with hasheart and tiptoeing

[redledgerdays]

Who: Natasha and Clint
What: not discussing feelings as relating to this
Warnings: At the moment, can't think of any
Notes: Continuation of events, side story


[Natasha has always been very good at pretending. she learned from a young age how to be whatever she was needed to be, to bottle away what she felt and simply become. it's a type of training she's never been able to shirk, even years later. oh, she has to pretend for S.H.I.E.L.D. of course -- there's a reason they brought her in, and her skillset isn't exactly bereft of subterfuge. but it's not the same as having no choice in the matter

and she has a choice now

when she wants to -- when she feels cornered and uncertain, when she's treading new ground -- she always falls back on her training. even when she knows it's fruitless. Barton's always been able to see through the masks; after all, he's the one who saw her and not what she was pretending to be, all those years ago

so when she holes herself away for a few days, purposely burying herself in work and making herself scarce in the wake of Bruce's stunt in the desert, she isn't surprised it's Clint who comes to find her in her quarters]

Comments

[hasheart]

[He doesn't even bother to knock, knowing that she knows it's him before he even turns the knob to let himself into her room, taking in the familiar quarters at a glance before narrowing in on Natasha herself.

The door isn't locked, which says something about her ability to predict his coming over at least unconsciously, even though if it had been locked, he could have overridden the door code in mere moments to get inside. But that isn't the point. The point is that Natasha is avoiding having to think about things, in that way she did when she thought she was getting to emotional about something and tried to ignore it until the feelings went away. She'd done it with Clint, way back when, and again with Phil, later on. It doesn't work, never did, but her reactions are endearing almost, in their predictability.]

Knock knock, Tasha.

[redledgerdays]

[she doesn't give him the benefit of a reaction, shoulders hunched while she finishes the last of her paperwork, a stack to rival Phil's piled on the small desk in her room. it's one of the only pieces of furniture, really. she's always preferred keeping things sparse. which is why there's only the one chair and her bed, neither of which she openly suggests to Clint but that she'll know he'll take anyway. he's predictable like that]

I don't suppose you brought anything to drink.

[she still hasn't turned to look at him. it's easier to hide that way when the man you're talking to knows how to see through all of your illusions]

[hasheart]

[A faint squeak as the mattress shifts under his weight puts paid to her prediction. Clint gives her averted face a grin as he makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, watching her studiously avoid looking at him.

It was rather funny, how she thinks that he can't tell her thoughts just because he's not looking her in the eye.]

I wasn't going to bring the drinks to you. I'd rather take you to the drinks.

So you're coming with me before you go and do something stupid to keep busy for another week.

[Might as well get right to the point.]

[redledgerdays]

Going out for drinks has never ended well for us.

[she finally sits back in her chair, swivelling around to face him. he gets a look for the 'something stupid' comment, but otherwise she just looks ... normal. maybe a little tired. it's pointless to put up fronts with him]

There is work to be done around base, Clint. I don't need to go find it.

[hasheart]

Yeah, and you have half of the junior agents convinced that you've decided to become the next Coulson.

[Really Tasha. Paperwork has never been her style unless she's chewing on something, and using it as an excuse to get away and think. And honestly, most of the stuff she's doing is beneath her skillset.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and gives her a steady look.]

We can always talk about Banner without drinks, if that's what you want.

[redledgerdays]

[she hates paperwork, really. but it gives her a reason to get away and think that doesn't draw the sort of attention as her running to a safe house might. and it's too telling when she goes to the firing range. better to let the junior agents think she's turning into Phil; at least that'll keep them on their toes]

I'm not interested in talking about Banner.

[hasheart]

[Really, Clint would have thought of her going to the firing range as less telling than her little Phil impression. Of course, he really has no room to talk about that, since pretty much all of his own issues get sorted out on the range. Or in the air ducts of S.H.I.E.L.D. but he's been officially banned from doing that. ]

Too bad. It's been over a week and you've been avoiding even the mention of him or his mission like the plague. Coulson's making noises about psych evals, just to warn you.

[redledgerdays]

[the problem with the firing range is that everyone knows she goes there to let off steam, either physical or mental. At least paperwork has ambiguity to it

Natasha doesn't say anything at first when he mentions evals, expression just as neutral as ever. Then she's up, grabbing a jacket from her closet and heading out the door]

Your tab this time. I'll talk with Coulson later.

[hasheart]

[He'd offer that instead of drinks, they tag team the range, but the last time they'd done that the junior agents had been terrified to even approach them for weeks. Which neither of them might actually mind much, but it makes it a little difficult to get anything mundane done around S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters with agents scuttling away at every turn.]

Nothing dire, Tash. You remember what happened the last time you threatened him.

[He grins as he says it though, following her out of her room and out into the hallways.]

If it's my tab, I get to set the rules for tonight. Deal?

[redledgerdays]

I was in traction for three days.

[one did not threaten Agent Philip Coulson. not even his own agents. and to be honest, she'd needed that talking down to; needed to know Phil was the same as them, just as capable, just as deadly. she needed to respect him and she did. utterly and completely

Natasha gives Clint a look as if to say 'you were always going to set the rules for this talk' then just shrugs. there are fights she can win, and fights where it's better to concede]

What are they?

[hasheart]

Yep. And had a wrapped wrist for a week.

[Clint remembers the days when he and Coulson used to butt heads about trust, about limits and boundaries, and about respect. Those days were long enough ago that it had just amused him to see her go through the same, and to earn her knocks the hard way.]

Information exchange. Every shot, answer my question, then you can ask one in return. Fair's fair.

[That she'd tell the truth went without saying. There are very few secrets between them now, at least, the secrets that remain are the ones that they didn't even want to ask about. Not yet.

Clint bets it's a much more generous terms of agreement than she expected, but conversation is always better paired with drinking than interrogation.]

[redledgerdays]

[leave it to Clint to offer an information exchange over booze. it's absurd enough she laughs despite her mood]

Fair's fair. But if I'm done, we stop. No questions.

[she doesn't mind telling Clint the truth. not really. but there are those things she doesn't know if they're true or not -- things she hasn't admitted to herself, or worked out sufficiently enough to tell if there's even any substance to them. that she doesn't want to lie to Barton speaks volumes for their relationship

it doesn't take long to reach the small bar on-base. it's an intimate sort of spot, tables shoved in close, lights turned low, but always buzzing with enough activity that no one hears anyone else's conversation. they've spent any number of evenings sitting at their corner table, shooting the shit over shots, and today is no different as they step inside and Natasha orders the first round]

Don't make me regret this, Barton.

[hasheart]

No questions, sure.

[It's easy enough to agree to, as he knows she won't stop their exchange without a damn good reason. He'll just have to be careful what he asks, to get the most information that he wants before he's too drunk to watch his words.

The path to the bar is a familiar one, as is the decor once they're inside, and the people in it. They're regular enough to merit their own table, which sits unoccupied and waiting for them. He sinks into his seat, nodding in approval at her first choice of rounds.]

Vodka. Why am I not surprised?

[When their shots are set down he picks his glass up, deftly gesturing at her without spilling a drop.]

So, how long is Banner going to be on your shit list?

[redledgerdays]

[she smirks, sipping from her glass] Starting easy. It seemed only right.

[of course, then Clint asks his question and she drinks her shot properly, downing the alcohol without a hint of affect, setting the glass down a moment later, waving for the next round. Rum.]

Until he stops being an idiot. Why do you care?

[hasheart]

[He knocks back his own shot after he's done asking, grimacing a hair at the burn going down his throat. Its a different burn than rum or whiskey, which he's much more used to.]

Easy for you Tash. I wasn't raised on this stuff.

[A short answer, huh. Looks like he'll have to get more creative with his wording.]

Because as long as you're pissed at him, you're a terror to everyone around you.

[redledgerdays]

[he never could hold his liquor as well as her. she was banking on that tonight, too]

Now you're just being melodramatic.

[hasheart]

It's not melodramatic when there are junior agents whispering dark secrets about you in the hallways.

[He's grinning as he says it though, playing up the melodrama, even if its...mostly...true.]

[redledgerdays]

They always whisper dark secrets about me in the hallways. Try again.

[as if to remind him, she lifts her glass, doing that little head tilt of hers]

[hasheart]

[That makes him laugh, and he lifts his own glass.]

Touchè.

All right, fine. What can he do to stop being an idiot? And before you ask why I care again, you're not entirely on your game right now, and I don't think you will be until you sort this out.

[And with that he salutes her with his glass and downs his drink.]

[redledgerdays]

[he has a point, of course, even if she won't admit it]

Accepting that things aren't the same would be a start. That he can't do everything on his own and that I make decisions for myself; I don't need his protection.

[she frowns, more than a little aware of how similar she'd been after her recruitment. Clint would probably point it out, the ass. Natasha taps her glance, thinking, then downs it]

Would you have done any differently in my place?

[hasheart]

Gee, that sounds a little familiar.

[Yes, he is enough of an ass to say it, but it's because she needs to hear it even if she already knows it to be true.

He acknowledges that there are some differences though, in both her and Bruce's situations and how they were recruited, but enough is similar that he can see it rankles her, to have to go through it all over again, except on the flip side of the coin.]

Not a damn thing. Aside from possibly channeling Coulson even worse than you have been and outlining every single stupid thing he'd done wrong over the past 24 hours, complete with an annotated powerpoint presentation. [That had been a memorable debriefing, even from through the glass of the biohazard containment unit he'd been in.]

Or just clocking some sense into him.

[He's mostly joking, of course.]

But look at him though. I can see why he thinks he has to protect everyone, even you. We'll just have to show him that we can take care of ourselves. And showing is part of teaching, you know.

He did promise not to do it again without consulting you.

[redledgerdays]

Don't rub it in, Hawkeye.

[his response is validation, though, and she smiles, both at that little victory and the image of Clint on a Coulson-style warpath. It was easier to find the absurdity in her actions when she could put them on someone else.

His defense of Bruce was a little harder to swallow and she didn't bother hiding it, twisting her shot glass around with a finger, expression dark]

For a man as smart as Bruce Banner, he is an idiot if he doesn't have proof enough we can take care of ourselves.

[hasheart]

We're the ones that told him all of the stories where we couldn't, you know.

[And the ones where they could, but stories like Seattle on his part, and St. Petersburg on hers tend to linger.

When Natasha doesn't immediately wave for their next round, he takes over, getting them his personal poison of choice: whiskey.]

And it's different, when you know someone's capable professionally, but then having to remember the same on a personal level when you work with them.

[redledgerdays]

Those are different and you know it, Clint Barton.

[they were young and stupid in those stories. (most of them, anyway). they had earned their marks, suffered missteps and failures and she had the scars to prove it. she wasn't the same girl Clint had brought in so many years ago, willful and arrogant, adamant she could and would go it alone. and he wasn't the same, either. Clint's confidence was wrought from an ego that had failed him one too many times, from seeing how arrogance could lead to disaster.

they weren't the same as the stories, and if Bruce couldn't see that, he was either willfully blind or desperate for excuses

he orders the whiskey and she downs it immediately, letting the slow, hard burn wash away her otherwise bitter thoughts]

There's no real difference between the two. Trust doesn't end with the job.

[hasheart]

So are you saying that he's not allowed to make rookie mistakes?

[Technically that counts as a question, so he downs his shot, enjoying the burn and the mellowing out feeling spreading from his stomach as the first two shots start to kick in.

Banner is new, and so green that Clint knows that if he wasn't the Hulk on the side that he wouldn't even be cleared for field duty at all at this point. He hasn't had the time or the experience he and Natasha have had, the successes, the failures, the beatdowns and the rescues and the near-misses that have moulded them into the agents they are today. the only thing Bruce has experience in that rivals their own is the drive to protect, to spare others the things they did on a normal basis so they wouldn't have to. And what he wants to protect them from, well, Tasha knows what it's like to be on the receiving end of a Hulked out Banner.

He just needs to learn not to spare Clint or Natasha any of that, not anymore, not now that he's on their team. Easier said than done, but nothing is ever easy for any of them, it seems.]

It's still a change, to trust someone knows what they're doing, and to trust them, Tash.

Do you know the first time I really trusted you? I don't mean as an assassin, but you, Natasha. If you guess wrong I'll tell you, but it counts as your question.