Chapter Text
It's a relief, really. Curiosity is satisfied, good times were had, and they both got their rocks off, so to speak. Everything'll be fine. Just give it a few days.
But Clint's spine is curved like his bow, straining under the pressure of the words he doesn't dare say as he perches at the edge of her mattress. Natalia can see everything just fine out of the corner of her eye and doesn't really have to look at him as he stands abruptly and starts digging in the dark for his pants. He's yanking the shirt back over his head when she realizes that she might have handled this poorly.
"Clint--" she tries, but he's always going to be so much faster than he looks and is already gone. He's managed to grab everything--socks, wallet, earpiece and weapons--but as Natalia stands in the tiny kitchen, clutching the sheet around her, she sees the gleam of his keys to her apartment on the counter, and her heart breaks just a little.