he was the one • winterwidow

⊱ twelve ⊰

- i'll be there for you / rembrandts -

The next few days were absent of Bucky. Sure, it pained Nat to do so, but it was needed. If anything it was worse to see him daily: it was like a constant reminder of what she couldn't have.

So, instead, Natasha would ask Clint to get the drinks. The first time, he was all for it, making retorts about her 'crush' as he stood up. After he returned, he went silent. Not a completely noticeable one, but definitely unlike the Barton that Nat knew.

Ever since, Clint seemed to tense slightly when asked to get the drinks from the bar before regaining his posture again. Natasha took note on this, but never directly commented on it.

Clint, being the inner child he is, had already packed his carry-on for around two days time when they'd be travelling back home but he had restrained from packing his actual suitcase because of how undeniably boring it was to do so.

For their second-to-last day in the country, the three decided to head down the mountain from the hotel and spend the day at the beach they passed when they were coming from the airport. Sharon had packed everything they would all need, knowing the forgetfulness of the other two.

Surprisingly, they had been able to head down and eat breakfast without any more pool incidents, now outside waiting for the hourly minibus to take them to the sea, when a sudden outburst from Clint interrupted the silence, having previously stood quietly with the floatie Sharon had dumped in his arms to carry.

"I want a hole." He said, giving no context whatsoever to his statement.

"Just be a woman," Sharon snorted. "We have three."

"Not all women do," Nat stated, shaking her head. "Or not all women have working holes."

Now looking horrified, Clint's shocked open mouth finally let out words. "And you guys say I'm the fucking idiot? Get your minds out the gutter, I meant a hole at the beach. You know. Sand?"

A few families glanced over as he shouted the last word, Clint sent them all awkwardly apologetic looks before sending the pair in front of him death glares, about to speak once again when the bus pulled up beside them, doors opening.

"Consider yourselves lucky."

✧★✧

As he said he would, Clint had managed to dig a pretty reasonably sized hole ahead of the beds that Sharon and Nat had found to lay on.

It wasn't difficult to find two sun beds next to one another considering it was a private beach owned by the hotel. Sharon had been adamant to find the best possible stay they could have, and she definitely fulfilled that aim.

By now, the beach was practically deserted. The only other people were a small family on the other end of the beach and a sleeping elderly couple pretty far to the right of them. At this time of day, most of the hotel tended to stay back for the events that start after noon.

Natasha had been trying her hardest to relax, which was going very well until she continuously heard her name being called by the archer in front of her, who was nearly up to his neck in the huge pit he created.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "What is it, Barton?"

"Come look at my hole!"