I Thought You Were Different

Apologies

"You do look really great tonight, Nat," Clint smiled as he drove back towards the training facility, having just finished their first official date. She would glance over to him now and again, watching the colors of his knuckles changing as he gripped the steering wheel, listening for the changes in his breathing and the pounding of his heart that he hadn't realized she could hear. "Any regrets?"

"Regrets? About what?"

Clint didn't reply immediately, exaggerating his movements as he drove, looking over his shoulder more carefully than usual when he turned, checking his mirrors much too often, all in the determination to not look at her until he finally couldn't stand it anymore and gave in.

"Me."

Natasha wasn't the most outwardly emotional person; she would readily admit that. But with Clint...with Clint it was different. They had been friends for so many years now that she had worried about this night since the moment he had asked, but now that it was here, it felt like it was the natural next step for them. She felt sure of it more than ever when the thought of you and Steve together flashed through her mind; she wanted someone to look at her the way Steve looked at you. Now she only needed to be sure that he felt the same.

"Barton," she sighed, reaching over to rest her hand on his knee and smiling softly when she felt his muscle tighten in response, "Clint, I have never and will never have any regrets about you, no matter where this goes. But I need to you to be honest with me. Am I the one that you want?"

"Nat, everything that's happened with (Y/N), Steve, the team, all of it..." he replied with a shake of his head, "...all of it had to happen the way it did in order for me to understand. Okay...do you ever lose something? Like...like your phone or something? So you look everywhere, right? You're emptying drawers, throwing the couch cushions across the room, everywhere. When you finally just give up and accept that you'll never find it again...there it is, right in front of you." He cleared his throat quietly and rested his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers together. "You were always right there. I just had to stop looking to see you."

~~~

Once the dinner had been eaten and the dishes were cleared away, you sat with Steve in the infirmary, waiting for Bruce to come by and do the final check of the day and hoping that he would let him go. This was no place for you to have the discussion you needed to have, but if the doctor wouldn't release him, then this would have to do.

"Can you sit by me?"

"Yeah, sure," you smiled, climbing up onto the bed and taking your place at the end across from him with your legs folded and all the distance you could get between you.

"Okay, but could you maybe actually sit by me?" Steve held out his arms, summoning you to them; you hadn't had those arms around you in so long, and they were so inviting to you that you found it hard to resist him. With an air of apprehension, you slid across the gap between you and turned with your back to him, leaning against his chest as his arms wrapped themselves across you. You shuddered at his touch, leaning your head back against him and allowing the sensation to wash over you; remembering how this had always been the one spot where you felt like you had escaped the world and everything was right. Every muscle in your body relaxed and you were overcome with both elation and sadness, allowing yourself to let go and cry for all the time you had missed with him.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked quietly, leaning forward with a gentle kiss to your neck.

"I've just missed this."

"I know," he murmured into your skin, "I'm sorry."

His apology only made the tears more insistent and plentiful, your breathing now more uneven with each wave. "No, Steve, it wasn't you. This is my fault. How I treated you..."