ONE SHOT: Unspoken
Pairing: Clint Barton / Natasha Romanoff (Clintasha, Blackhawk)
Summary: What isn’t said between two people as close as they are actually says everything about who they are to one another.
He isn’t going to lie to her. He knows she’ll see right through it. The truth has always been written in that wrinkle between his eyebrows, in two fingers nocking an arrow to drum a string-hummed tune across a taut bow, so subtle and quiet no one not listening for it would hear.
She isn’t going to make it easy on him. She knows he’ll make it twice as easy for her. The proof has always been written in the darkness of his bruises and the lightness of hers, in two fingers crooked to beckon him into a fight he’ll always answer but never beckons her back to on his end.
They aren’t going to be perfect. They know it doesn’t go that way, not for people like them. The end has always been written in the scars they have and the scars they don’t, in the darkness he spared her and the light she blessed him with.
He isn’t going to lie to her. She isn’t going to make it easy on him. He’ll pull his punches and spare her the darkness, so she’ll come for him with all her ferocity—one way or another—if ever need be, because she owes him that. She’ll knock him senseless and bring the light that belongs there back to his eyes, so he’ll anchor her in her humanity or in a mercy she doesn’t see coming, because he owes her that.
Compassion and responsibility make quiet bedfellows. They don’t need to be perfect.