My Weakness

Natasha wasn't the least bit afraid of Clint, but she wasn't looking forward to dealing with him, either. Clint kept mostly silent while she socialized with Bruce for a bit, discussing plans for Christmas. They'd all decided to spend the holidays together, since none of them had any family to speak of. Pepper had made arrangements for a huge traditional feast Christmas afternoon, and they were all looking forward to it. But Bruce had suggested doing a small party with cards, secret Santa, Christmas movies and maybe drinks on Christmas Eve, and everyone had jumped on board. (They all usually did when drinks were involved.) So the three of them sat around discussing what to get their secret Santa, whom they had drawn that morning.

Natasha poured Bruce and Clint a coke, putting rum in Clint's. Natasha asked Bruce, "So, who'd you get?"

"Pepper. Who did you guys get?"

Clint smiled a little. ”I never tell. I just wanted to know if either of you got me."

Natasha snorted. Bruce asked her, "Who'd you get?"

She cut her eyes at Clint, bracing herself. "Cap."

"Shit." Clint slid his drink across the countertop and walked out of the room, she heard the door to the staircase slam. Natasha sighed and took Clint's drink, swirling it before she took a long drink. She twisted up her face a bit: she hated rum.

Bruce was quiet for a minute or so. "So, you two, that's a thing?"

"Yeah."

Bruce nodded. "I figured as much."

She looked up. “Yeah? You did?"

"Yeah, I've had an idea since we debriefed on the helicarrier."

Natasha looked dumbfounded. "Why? How?"

Bruce looked down and smiled, a small, sad smile. "Well, I'm very sensitive to my environment and emotions, for reasons I'm sure you can understand." She nodded. He continued, "You were a completely different woman when he was discussed. It was a radical change. The emotional shift was pretty amazing."

Natasha was stunned. All of those years she spent stuffing her down her emotions and pretending they didn’t exist, being trained and training herself to feel nothing. Now, not only was she feeling, she was feeling so strongly that other people were seeing what she was trying to hide. Goddamn bloody hell.

He seemed to read her thoughts. "That's not a bad thing, Natasha. It's important for you to understand that."

"Yes it is. It makes me weak. Vulnerable." Her head was spinning.

"No." He reached across the counter and took her hand. "Having a weakness can often be our biggest strength, when we learn to control it. Look at me. Look at Tony. He taught me that, actually." She looked up at him. "I'm vulnerable. Under the right circumstances, I could lose control and destroy everything and everyone around me. Tony has a piece of metal next to his heart that could kill him at any moment if he doesn't control it with a piece of machinery." He tugged on her hand a little because she had looked away. "Those things became our greatest strengths. Stark used the technology that saved his life to invent clean energy that is revolutionary and will help millions upon millions of people. Not to mention help him become a superhero that keeps the world safe. I've learned to control mine for the most part, and I can use my strength and rage to save people's lives." He let go of her hand and tapped the counter to get her attention again. "Hey. Listen. Having a weakness, being human, it makes you better. It makes you stronger. You have to work harder, and that's a good thing."

She nodded and went back to staring at nothing next to the cabinet to the left of the oven. Bruce drank the rest of his coke and sat it down on the counter. "Besides. With this particular weakness, you get to share your life with someone." She quirked her lips a little. "Go talk to him, Nat."

"Okay."

"I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, Bruce."

"No sweat."

She sat for a second then called out, "Hey, Bruce, wait!"

He ducked his head around the corner, "Don't worry, Nat. I won't tell anyone. But I think only Cap doesn't know. And Thor."

She looked at him a moment. ”He wanted to learn to dance so he could dance with his old girlfriend he left behind in 1945. She's in her 90s, and I was afraid he'd crush her with his super strength. I'd never hurt Clint."

He smiled. "I know. He does, too. He just has to remember it."

~*~

She walked down the stairs to his apartment a while later, but no lights were on and she didn't see him.

"Clint?"

"What."

"I came to talk to you."

"Why? Doesn't matter."

She clicked on the lamp and saw him. He was sitting in an armchair, a bottle of Jack Daniels open beside him mostly empty and a half-empty tumbler with ice in his hand. She walked over and sat on the coffee table in front of him.

"It matters, Clint. You didn't see what you think you saw."

"No, I mean, it really doesn't matter. You're not mine. You never were."

Natasha was genuinely confused. "I don't understand."

"Fury called me into his office today. We're not married. Merry Christmas." He raised his glass in a mock toast.

Natasha was stunned into silence, then tears gathered. "How can we not be married? He had us annulled? Why would he do that to us? I don't -"

"No, you don't get it. We were never married. Our wedding didn't count, apparently. It was a fraud."

Her head was ringing. "I was there. We said vows, we made promises, we signed papers, we kissed. We're married."

He leaned forward and wagged his finger. "Ah, the papers, you see. There's the crux of this moldy-ass biscuit. Apparently, you got married under an alias, and voided our marriage. So it didn't count. We're not married. You're not my wife. I'm not your husband. And you're free to slow dance with whoever you like."

"Now wait a second, Clint."

"No, you wait. I have the best goddamn vision on the planet. I saw what was happening, Nat. It was quite the romantic scene. Exactly what one wants to walk in on an hour after his world falls apart."

"He asked me to teach him to dance so he could go see his old girlfriend in the retirement home."

"Oh, BULLSHIT!” He stood up, threw the tumbler into the fireplace with incredible force and it exploded, glass shards falling like ice crystals all over the floor. Natasha uncovered her head to see that he had started pacing the floor in front of the mantle, ignoring the glass at his feet. "He wants you, Tasha! He wants my wife! Or my ex wife. Or my never wife. Fuck, I don't even know what you are."

"I'm your wife."

"No you're NOT.”

Natasha slipped back into her training. She betrayed no emotion, shut it all down. Inside she was wailing, screaming...but externally she was calm. Instinct took over.

"Yes, I am. I made vows, Clint. I intend to honor them."

He laughed without humor. "Some job you're doing there with that, Nat. Looked real honorable in Cap's arms."

"It happened exactly as I told you. You can trust me or not. But I love you, and would never hurt you." She stood up and turned to leave.

"You just did."

She looked back at him, not knowing what to say. She walked to him and wrapped him in her arms. He didn't respond, but let her hold him.

"I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry."

His voice was small. "We're not married, Nat. We’re not. I wanted to marry you."

"You did."

"I tried, but I fucked it up." He wrapped his arms around her then, and they stood, holding each other in the semi-dark.

"We can sort this out. Appeal to someone. Pull strings."

"Fury tried. He really did."

Natasha was dubious, but said nothing. "Well, then we'll just get remarried. And we'll do it up this time. Get Fury to give me away.” She smiled, trying to brighten him up, find a silver lining.

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you would have to use Natalia Romanova to marry me. That's your real name. And the second you file that name anywhere..."

"The KGB will show up." Her stomach plummeted. She had had to renounce her name, but apparently it was still her legal name. There had to be away around this, she just didn’t know what it was. Why didn't Fury know?

"I can never marry you, Nat. I can't keep you safe and be your husband. I have to choose. I choose your safety over what I want."

Natasha stood silent, her arms wrapped around him, her head against his chest. All of her attempts to tamp down her emotions were failing her, she felt completely jumbled. So she just stood there, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, smelling his spicy-woodsy scent she loved so much. She realized she was wetting his shirt with tears. Finally, she said the only thought that made sense to her.

"I still feel married to you. I don't feel any different." He said nothing. "Do you feel differently about me because I'm not legally your wife?"

"I don't know what I feel right now. But I love you."

"I love you, too."

They held each other some more, Natasha trying to keep from staining his shirt more and failing. Clint not knowing what he felt about her...she couldn't imagine anything more heartbreaking coming from his mouth. He had always known how he felt about her - at least he seemed to. Oh God. What was happening to them?

Clint pushed away. "I have to go. I have to pack."

"Pack? Where are you going?"

"Texas, indefinitely. I have to infiltrate a drug ring. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

Natasha had to sit down. It was too much. It was all just too much.

"But...it's Christmas. Our first Christmas..."

He looked at her, his eyes forget-me-not blue and so, so sad.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."