Steps
Natasha feels uncertain as she enters the bedchamber. She has never been to this area of the manor before. She has had no reason to. Now, finding herself in unfamiliar territory with two men she isn't sure she trusts, her heartbeat races, betraying her fear.
Why would she be brought here? Surely there was no reason for her to be brought to her Master's bedchamber?
But there were reasons a woman might be brought to her future husband's bedchamber.
That was NOT the deal they had made. She whirled around to face Barton, ready to protest that this was definitely not what they had agreed upon. She had been under the impression she had more time, that perhaps they could reach a point together where she didn't feel they were still enemies before she had to face this part of her decision.
When she was facing him, however, she saw him leaning against the wall just inside the door, one arm folded over his chest, and one hand being used to cover his mouth, obscuring the smile gracing his lips.
The bastard! He had seen her reaction and thought it was funny!
He must see the anger flare in her eyes because he pushes himself up off of the wall and approaches her slowly, careful to not inflame her further.
"I apologize if this comes as a surprise to you. I had assumed that was what you and James were discussing when I found you."
"You mean he didn't follow your orders? You sent him with a job to do, and he didn't follow through." It's a bit cruel of her to point it out to his master.
Their master, his lover, she supposes. But she is still rather upset about the whole thing, as she was left feeling particularly unbalanced after the moment they shared just before Barton had found them.
"No, not that at all." Clint still looks amused, peeking back at the other man, even as Natasha tries to get his servant/lover in trouble. "In fact, James sought you out on his own. I gave no order for him to find you."
Behind Barton, James stares resolutely at the floor, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze. Barton looks practically giddy, barely able to hide his smile when he turns back to face Natasha. He does catch the tail end of her scowl, which gives him pause and makes him look between the two in confusion for a moment.
"Well, I can see that, whatever passed between you, there was no mention of your new room." He gestures around them, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. "I'm not sure of your family's circumstances before you came to live here, but I am sure this must at least be comparable, if not better. At the very least, it is a great improvement from the quarters you have been residing in since you came to us."
That was not even close to what Natasha had been expecting. She looks around, eyes glossing over everything in the room in pure shock. This new information is too much for her to truly process.
Looking around again, she tries to gather her thoughts. "Surely you can't mean to give me such a nice room. Master." She adds on automatic. She has long since perfected the balance of respect to disobedience.
Disagreeing, provided it is done respectfully, may be permissible, while disrespect, even when agreeing, is a worse punishment when caught by those in charge of the slaves. "Allowing a slave, or even a normal servant-"
Her light protests were cut off. "James and I had a conversation after our meeting last night. Several, in fact." Clint looks to James as if for permission to continue. When James nods, the movement is curt, like he expects whatever explanation that follows to go poorly. "He shared his concerns that certain things had not been made clear."
"This is a gesture of good faith." He says, studying her face and interpreting the wide eyed shock there correctly. "An assurance that all of what was promised to you, I intend to follow through with. This is where you will stay until we are married."
Ah, she thinks. This is the beginning of disguising her position here. They intend to make her seem more respectable before announcing their impending nuptials. It hadn't been discussed the day before, but she supposes it makes the most sense for this to be the first step.
Inviting James into the room further with a simple wave of his hand, he continues. "We both want you to be comfortable with this arrangement. We are aware of how much of a sacrifice this is for you, even though it appears to be only to your benefit."
James cuts Clint off, sensing something in the conversation path that Natasha hadn't picked up on. "What he means is, we don't want you to think your sacrifice is lost on us. From the surface, it appears you are getting the better end of the deal. Between the three of us, we understand that things aren't quite as they appear."
"We want you to be comfortable with us, but that means you must trust us. We were hoping this might be a step towards that."
Clint had rolled his eyes when James had taken over speaking for them, but by the end he was looking at the man with such love it made Natasha's heart ache a little.
What it must be like to be loved in such a way. And to be able to love someone in return.
"Yes, I hope you accept this as a step forward in our relationship. And please," he gestures around the spacious room, devoid of any other witnesses, as he eases from the more sensitive tone he and James had taken on for the more intimate conversation. "When we're alone, you are not bound by such strict social rules. You may call me Clint. I've never been the kind to stand on propriety. Particularly on matters between a man and his wife." There is a glint in his eyes as he says it, like some sort of joke.
She supposes that's just what it is.
Natasha allows her gaze to flit over to James. Barton- Clint- sees the motion and follows, turning to his lover, looking him up and down in a way that makes Natasha feel like an intruder, but snapping out of the moment quickly enough she isn't sure she didn't imagine it.
"James doesn't count." He says, winking at the man as he straightens to focus on Natasha again. "I can assure you, he has no plans to run and tattle on you for a lack of respect."
"Yes, I suppose that would be counterproductive to your… cause." In truth, Natasha hadn't even thought about that. She had been more concerned with how James would feel about her encroaching on his territory.
Not that she would be admitting that any time soon.
A sly look appears in Barton's eyes. Clint's eyes. His eyes. Natasha watches it take over his features.
Keeping his eyes on James, he says in a strange voice, "He seems to be rather fond of you, as well. It likely wouldn't be helpful for his cause either."
James appears to be turning a very light shade of pink. Teasing, Natasha realizes. The strange tone was teasing. Clint had been teasing James.
About being fond of Natasha.
"She seemed the best candidate. From what little I knew of her." His voice sounds defensive, in the instinctive way that one has no control over.
Of course. James had been the one to pick Natasha, Clint had said so yesterday. Picking the woman his lover was to marry would be an easy way to poke fun at him.
Or maybe it had more to do with the fact he knew enough about Natasha to understand that she would be amenable to their plans, despite her being a slave. Picking on him for associating low enough for him to recognize her as a good candidate the way he had.
She finds herself wanting to say something in his defense. She is thankful to be given this opportunity, much as she dreads the whole thing. If Clint keeps his word, she will be regaining some autonomy over her own life.
And she is beginning to think he might be a man of his word.
Then again, should she be thankful to the man for unlocking chains he and his family had placed her in in the first place?
She is saved from having to decide whether or not she should say something by Clint (using his given name was going to take some getting used to) speaking to James.
"Well, would you be so kind as to fetch her trunk from her quarters for her? Bring her things up so she can start to settle in a bit?" Sensing Natasha's stare, wide eyed with surprise, he checks. "If that's alright with you, of course?"
She was being asked her opinion? On something as trivial as whether she was alright with James bringing up her one small trunk and single bag of belongings so she can settle into her new room.
Holy shit, she has a new room.
Her own room.
Nodding her head dumbly, she forces herself to find her voice again. "Yes. That would be fine."
Clint nods to James, who in turn tips his head to Natasha and heads for the door. He's almost through when Natasha jolts to her senses.
"James." He freezes, foot raised to step through the threshold. He pauses a second before turning back, holding the door frame with one hand to look over his shoulder. She waits until he locks eyes with her to speak.
"Thank you." She hopes he sees the rest of the words she can't quite bring herself to say to him, the truce she's proposing from their… encounter earlier.
He smiles softly, just the corner of his mouth ticking up. He nods again, and she knows he understood. She gives him a small smile back and he exits the room to collect her things.
Maybe they were right. Maybe they could take steps towards having a decent relationship. Despite what has apparently been her best attempts at stopping that from happening.
Barton clears his throat behind her. She startles; he is much closer than she remembers him being when she turned to speak to James at the door.
She is alone with him, she realizes. And she has no idea what to expect.