redintheledger | OOM: 2011, San Diego

Entry tags:

OOM: 2011, San Diego

Saturday is a day that Natasha is determined to spend being lazy. She and Clint had gone to SeaWorld (and patched things up) the day before, and although she decided to try sleeping in a bed last night instead of on the couch, her insomnia didn't miraculously vanish.

She managed to have a lazy morning, at least. By her standards. But her personal revelation is an itch at the back of her mind, and it feels dishonest not to tell him. There are risks to saying anything, but then again, there always are. Despite her track record, she's rarely let that stop her.

About the time she hits half an hour spent scrolling through I Can Has Cheese Burger, she can acknowledge that she's procrastinating about it. Looking at LOLcats is an entertaining way to procrastinate, but procrastination it is.

It's not that Natasha can't think of ways to bring the subject up. Although she doesn't spend as much time seducing as people think, she can still think of half a dozen ways of saying 'I love you'. It's that...

This is Clint. And she's fairly certain that all she's doing is playing catch-up, which never gives anyone confidence for negotiating relationships.

She's also fairly certain that she's been glancing over at him a bit too often to play it cool, but these things happen.

"Hey, Clint?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Clint's been waiting for her to talk, stress slowly creeping into his back. It'd be one thing if Natasha got an e-mail that upset her, but the regular glances that he's pretending to ignore (she'd looked away quickly when he met her gaze early on) -- well. He might find out if he's messed something up sooner rather than later.

"Yeah?" he asks, closing his Sudoku book and setting it aside. His body language is all but screaming that he wants to be read as casual.

As a general rule, Natasha is only given to babbling when delirious or otherwise unable to filter her thoughts. She doesn't break this rule now, but it does lead to the occasional awkward pause.

"I...should talk to you. About two things, but the second depends on how the first goes." She thinks about adding, and please don't laugh at me, but she swallows it. His body language is being far too overly casual, and despite her recent analysis, she doesn't want to make any conclusions on what he does and doesn't know, and does and doesn't feel.

"I love you."

... well, that's -- not what he was expecting.

It takes Clint a moment to get his metaphorical feet back under him, brow furrowing with confusion.

"Yeah, I know." He pauses, and considers this statement. He's been married, he's aware it's not sufficient. "I love you too. Why --" are we talking about this sounds a little harsh for what he means. "Did something happen?"

Slight smile, teasing: "You're not dying, right."

"No, I just-"

She stops, and the corners of her mouth lift a little.

"I'm not dying," she says, precise enough that she's a least a touch amused. "I...had some time to think on a train a few weeks ago. And I worked a few things out. Uh," this time, she actually smiles, a little ruefully.

I love you too

"One of them was that it's good to actually talk about things, sometimes."

Edited 2013-10-24 08:19 (UTC)

"Okay," he says. He watches her for a long moment, then breathes a quiet laugh. "I'm not sure -- why you thought I wouldn't be okay with that."

She pretty much shot him down last time he tried to talk about it. Which was... four years ago, and change.

Time shouldn't move that fast.

"Well, I wasn't...a hundred percent certain on your feelings until just now," she says, and her mouth curves again. And, let's face it, I haven't been making great calls lately. Be a bit awkward if I was friends-with-benefits for you." Her voice is light when she says that, but it's covering a depth of emotion. Including pride. She doesn't like feeling embarrassed at the best of times, let alone when her actual emotions are in play.

Then her brows crease, and she tilts her head.

"If that's what you meant."

Did I miss something?

Something else?

Edited 2013-10-24 12:18 (UTC)

"No," Clint says, slow. "That's not... you didn't know I loved you?"

Yeah, she missed something.

"No," she says at last. "I didn't. I've made some analysis that lead very strongly in that direction, but I didn't know until you said it.

How...long did I miss it?"

Well.

When Clint breathes out, it's almost dismissive. The corner of his mouth quirks up, but the amusement isn't real. "Does it really matter?"

Natasha pauses, considers him. She can't tell where the dismissal is directed, but she doesn't like either of the likely options.

Her voice becomes more precise than before. "It matters, Clint."

His smile disappears. "DC," he says, quiet. "2006. When we took Jasper out, after his promotion."

They'd played miniature golf in black tie. Clint had realized half-way through the first game that he was in love with his best friend and he'd been embarrassingly happy for the rest of the night, looking for a chance to let her know.

"I knew you didn't -- I said it wrong," he says, "then."

Clint sighs. "I thought you knew after you came back from Romania. I told you --," he breaks off, and smiles slightly. "It was years ago, Tasha."

Natasha stares at him and then, a moment or two too long after he's finished, she huffs a laugh. It's entirely directed at herself, and isn't very happy.

"Yeah," she breathes out. "Years, I...didn't see it. For either of us.

I'm sorry."

Edited 2013-10-25 09:02 (UTC)

"Hey," he says, almost on the heels of her apology. "It's okay, it's not--"

He's clearing a spot for her next to him on the couch, moving his Sudoku book and laptop.

"It's okay."

It's not, but she bites the words back. She didn't know, and it's throwing her, on multiple levels.

But there is no point in pushing him after repeated protests, so she just makes a noncommittal sound. Then, her expression lightens.

"Am I invited over to the couch?" she asks, voice light.

"Yeah," he says, tone a little tentative.

Nat's quick vocal shifts often throw him for a bit, but... he's good with light. He likes light. It's better than her apologizing for his mistakes.

He opens up his left arm across the back, so he'll be able to settle it around her shoulders when she sits.

Natasha moves over, and sits down carefully. She settles her head back against his arm, reaches up to curl her fingers gently around his, and glances over.

"Hey, you," she says, and there is a faint smile softening her mouth.

"Hey, yourself." his smile quirks before he presses a kiss to her hairline.

He draws back, just slightly, so he can see her face.

She hasn't completely settled, and it shows. But sitting next to him is far better than sitting alone at the table, and that shows, too.

She needs to mention the second thing she wants to talk to him about, but-

"You could kiss me again," she offers, her smile a little teasing and a little hopeful.

(Talking can wait for a moment.)

"Hmm." Clint wraps a piece of her hair lightly around his finger, skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling. "Sounds a little risky."

Except he does kiss her again, nose brushing against her cheekbone a bit awkwardly given the angle. No one said sitting side-by-side was easiest for kissing someone on the lips.

Well, she'll just have to move so that the angle is easier, then. Do something about that risk level.

The danger in moving is that it makes kissing him far, far more comfortable, and as much as she'd like to this until, oh, maybe dinner, she's aware that she needs to talk to him about something else, too.

"You know," she says eventually, ducking her head out of range, "that I said I had to talk to you about two things?"

Clint moves his hand down from her shoulder to settle lightly against her waist. "Yeah?"

"I...miss you, when we're apart," she starts, eventually. "A lot. And, I'm getting a little tired of having to get on a plane whenever I want to see you. Or you having to fly over."

She takes a deep breath. "So, I was thinking about moving down. If you were up for it."

"Uh," Clint says, eloquently.

"I'm not... not up for it?"

Natasha hates double negatives in English. They always throw her. Which does mean for a moment, she looks hurt.

Then her eyebrows crease.

"Not not?"

Edited 2013-11-02 08:41 (UTC)

"I mean," Clint says, a half-beat after she starts talking, guessing the issue. He falls quiet.

"I want to see you more," he says. Then he laughs, quietly. "I want to see you most of the time. It's just... we'd have to talk about a lot of stuff."

Edited 2013-11-02 21:49 (UTC)

Her smile comes darting back, almost shyly pleased. Then she takes a quick breath, and nods.

"I was expecting us to have to talk about things," she says. "Uh, do you want me to...get off you?"

Edited 2013-11-02 23:13 (UTC)

Clint wraps his arms around her more firmly for a moment, before letting go. "Yeah."

The hug is nice, and she briefly regrets the way he lets go. But for this kind of conversation, a little space is appreciated.

A little.

She resettles herself on the couch, hugging her knees as she faces him, and briefly presses her bare toes against his thigh. Hey, you.

"So...talk to me?" she says with a quick smile and an upwards lilt to her voice.

Clint smiles at her, then glances away to think.

"I'm not...," his mouth moves just perceptibly as he look for the right word, "... very good at relationships."

Natasha regards him for a moment.

"As in, 'communication'? Or...something else?"

"Uh." Clint breathes a laugh, genuinely amused.

"This is the longest relationship I've ever had? And we weren't having it. I don't do living with people well," he says, all in one breath. "I'm -- I haven't tried, in fifteen years. But I'm ... disappointing."

"Clint," she says, slowly, "you're not disappointing.

And I can find my own place, if you think living together won't work." Then, hesitating a little, "I had that on my list of options anyway, depending on what we figured out with personal space."

Edited 2013-11-08 02:24 (UTC)

"Right."

She's right. Not about him not being disappointing -- he is. But saying it is stupid; no one wants to hear about that.

He smiles at her, slight. "I'm... going to need to think about it? It's not really personal space.

"Uh. Well, you know I have sex with other people. Do you need to know detail, or have me -- change things?"

Edited 2013-11-12 09:09 (UTC)

'Right' isn't exactly the response she's after, but she has a feeling pushing the issue would make things worse. So, Natasha just nods.

"Take your time, if you need. The paperwork for transfers is going to take a while," she adds, a little rueful.

Given his odd reaction before, she doesn't reply with her first response (a teasing, 'well, I can't ask for change before I have the intel').

"I'm fine with us still being open. But, if you're...If we're discussing things anyway, it can't hurt tell me? And then I can let you know."

He takes a deliberate breath, and calms down almost immediately.

"Look," he says, hesitating. He's not really done this before, but he's seen a lot of the fall-out of people doing it wrong. "I'm not going to be upset if something makes you jealous. It-- doesn't have to be logical. And," he says, "as long as you're not dating anyone else I'm fine, but that doesn't mean you just... have to be."

Of course I'm not dating anyone el-

Natasha stops her mouth before her tongue moves. Of course. Of course. It's not a useful phrase under the circumstances.

"I'm not dating anyone," she says, with a slight uplift of the corner of her mouth. "I can take or leave sex with other people, but actual romantic entanglements? One at a time for me."

She knows herself at least that much.

"And I wouldn't be comfortable if you dated anyone else, either. But outside that, I'm...I'm not sure where my jealousy would flare up, if anything." This time, the subtle expression that passes over her face is a faint wince. "Helpful, I know," she adds, tone deliberately wry.

Edited 2013-11-17 07:32 (UTC)

"It's okay. Uh, what I was saying before..."

He's not looking at her, not really. He's focusing on her right hand, resting on the couch.

When he starts talking, he's calm. Not emotionless, but measured. "I have sex with a lot of people," is where he starts out, mouth twisting slightly. "Not that many, anymore, but probably three in a typical month. How often -- varies. Sometimes with strangers, more often people I know only in that ... context, and sometimes with friends. Um. Not work friends."

"Strangers are mostly women. Others, mostly men. If it bothers you, I could avoid having sex with friends. And... I might be able to cut women out?"

If he wasn't so focused on her hand, if he wasn't doing his Clint Thing of breathe-deliberately-and-focus, she'd make an observation about her cramping his style in Milliways. As it is, Natasha nods, more in acknowledgment of his words than an agreement to anything.

"No work friends is good."

She breathes in and out, her eyes going slightly unfocused as her thoughts turn inward.

"Gender doesn't bother me," Natasha says at last. "But I think normal friends...do."

Edited 2013-11-17 08:35 (UTC)

"Okay." He feels kind of stupid, now, worrying that she'd... well. Worrying.

He glances back up to her face. "I can do that."

Once upon a time, he'd probably have had cause to worry. But that once upon a time was a few decades ago, so Natasha just smiles at him. It's a small smile, but sincere.

"Okay," she says, and then, a touch slower, "Thank you for giving me options. I appreciate it." Particularly when she's gone and sprung this all on him in the first place.

"Do I need to give any myself? Or, is that something you're thinking about?"

Clint blinks at her. He hasn't thought about that.

"I'll think about it."

All that's coming to mind right now is shit like sorry, I had a weird adolescence, and like hell is he going to start a conversation like that with anyone. Especially Nat, who was fighting World War II in her adolescence.

Instead he offers a hand to help pull her into his lap again, if she wants. He could do with hugging her.

She had more than a suspicion that'd be his answer, so she nods easily.

"Sure." She's at his place for a few more days, and then, well. Phone. Or visits. Milliways. They'll work it out.

His hand is accepted with a brightening of her face, and she crawls back over and settles on his lap, arm winding around his shoulders. Not that she was noticing any difficulty in breathing before, but it's easier when Clint has his arms around her. Hugs are good.

Hugs are very good at the moment. And later?

Well.

They'll deal with later when it comes.

Edited 2013-11-17 10:06 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OOM: 2011, San Diego

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject