Debate
More time passed and Clint had been trying very hard to make his relationship with Natasha seem believable. He played the doting fiance well. He had begun seeking her out regularly, always kissed her hand in a way that displayed attraction, and acted sullen when she had to leave.
More than once she had looked back over her shoulder to find his eyes still on her, face bearing an expression she couldn't read. James always looked on from the background, eyes passing between the two of them like he was learning something.
Finally, the wedding was drawing close. It was just under a month away. Preparations were well under way. Natasha was learning her duties under the watchful eye of her future husband.
She's educated enough that everything has been relatively simple so far. When Clint couldn't oversee her studies, James frequently shadowed her. That had started shortly after their engagement, James following her around. It had been roughly the same time she had stopped throwing incessant barbs at the two of them.
He was quite good company, she had come to learn. Intelligent and respectful, but quick in a way that rivaled her own wit. She found she actually enjoyed his companionship through all the dullness that came with reading book after book to better understand the duties of her new position.
She sits in the study now, James at her side, having a heated discussion about politics that has come miles from where it began as an innocent question regarding food production.
The door swings open and in walks Clint. She stopped being alarmed by his presence weeks ago, stopped trying to avoid it mere days after agreeing to the marriage. They had become some sort of comfortable with each other. It was a state she had never anticipated them reaching.
She doubted their truce would survive this discussion however.
"How can you say such a thing?" Natasha's voice continues over the greeting Clint tries to issue. "You come from common folk, just as I do! How can you be so casual about something that would so negatively impact your own family?!"
Clint takes a seat, hand resting on James's forearm. He seems almost amused, though his face remains serious, with almost a touch of sadness.
Natasha feels some of the hatred she had thought she was past bubbling to the surface again.
"And you! Of course you would think this is funny. You, who have never wanted for anything in your life." She slouches back in her seat and huffs, stray hairs that had come loose from her braid in her impassioned outburst puffing out around her dramatically.
"Yes, never have I wanted for anything. Never have I been in a position where I know exactly what I want, yet out of duty, am required to go on as if it means nothing. To settle for something else entirely." The look he gives her is pointed.
It does the trick. His point has been made.
She isn't interested in feeling pity at this point though. The fact that he is using their arrangement against her is like a slap in the face, whether he means it that way or not. The smirk that should punctuate his words as the joke it was intended to be only serves to work her up further.
"Oh yes, you poor thing. I forgot how difficult you must have it. You found someone who loves you and you even love him back. But no," she stands abruptly enough she nearly knocks her chair over in the process. "Instead, you were supposed to find some poor witless girl who will brainlessly fawn over you and then trick her into thinking she has done something wrong, making her the reason you never visit her bed."
Natasha paces the room, aggravated in a way she hasn't been in years. She continues, arms gesturing in a way she can't control, her brain using her limbs as it pleases to demonstrate her anger, free of conscious thought.
"And somehow, you even managed to mess up that much! How many fair maidens are there who would have fallen, quite literally, at your feet just for the chance to be considered? And yet here you are with me."
She laughs, a cruel sound she barely recognizes.
"Your manservant managed to find you the least cooperative candidate possible. The woman who blames you for everything wrong in her life. A slave you had to bribe with her freedom to convince her to marry you, to cover up the fact you have no interest in taking a wife!"
She stops and turns to them, vision blurry in that way that it gets when the pressure in your head just gets to be too much. She isn't yelling, but it's a near thing. The effort it takes to keep her voice at a reasonable volume may just be her undoing.
She sees Clint stand from his seat. James had risen along with her, although whether it was to try and soothe her anger or protect his lover from it remains to be seen.
Clint begins making his way to her where she had frozen near the far corner of the room, waving James off as he takes a step to follow. Immediately James stills. As Clint rounds the table, Natasha begins hurling words at him again, hoping they will be enough defence to protect her from whatever plan he has to punish her.
"How will that go exactly? Will your dearest be in attendance for the ceremony? Is his ranking high enough that he merits an invitation to the wedding? So he can watch as you promise yourself to me? In a way he can never do?"
Those words were more hurtful than she had ever imagined saying. She was not the kind to judge, the kind to attack someone for the things that make them happy. But the words are out now, and it was her voice that had spoken them, she knew.
Opening her mouth to try and take them back, more spew forth in place of an apology. "And in the bedchamber that night. How cruel of you! To expect him to be there and watch. To bear witness to the man he loves, taking another lover. A woman, at that! Unless…"
Clint was still approaching her, one slow step at a time. She could see as each of her words struck him, landing right true to her aim. James remained where he was next to the table but she could tell it was killing him not to approach.
"Is that why he'll be there? Is that how you'll make it through?" Clint is nearly close enough to touch. "I had wondered how that was going to work, if you have no interest. I hadn't considered his presence might be required for a different reason. That he might play a bigger part than a simple witness for you."
He takes a final step, closing the distance between them and grasping her wrist. He drags her forward until her body is flush with his, held there by the grip on her arm. She tries to jerk it back, but only succeeds in bringing them closer together.
She is on her toes from keeping her muscles tense, arm bent, fist clenched. She does her best to keep the snarl on her face, even this close to his face. Close enough for her to feel the piercing blue gaze cutting into her, forcing any more words she may have for him to die on her tongue.
"You misunderstand, Natasha." She can feel the heat of his breath on her face. "There will be no problem for me on our wedding night. It will be no hardship to have you in my bed."
Natasha feels her lips drying and her blood beginning to rush in her veins. She darts her tongue out in a useless attempt to disguise her reaction.
From the way his eyes track the movement, she has hidden nothing from him.
"Any promise I have made to you to abstain from our marriage bed after that night, has been made, not from lack of ability. But rather out of respect for the relationship I choose, as well as the one being forced on me." He releases her wrist but makes no move to retreat.
What's more surprising is, neither does she. Instead she remains, frozen under the intensity of the spell that had been cast around them.
"I would not hold you hostage to a relationship that benefits you in no way. Rest assured, my dear, I shall enjoy our wedding night immensely. But that is where our liaison ends. For all intents and purposes, we will lead separate lives. I have no intention to complicate things beyond what is necessary. For either of us."
With that, he steps back. For a moment, Natasha feels as though she might collapse, her knees shaky in a way she fears will not hold her after facing such intensity from the man in front of her. She manages to stay upright somehow, stiffening her spine and heaving in a breath in an effort to fortify her frayed nerves.
Behind Clint, she sees James watching intently. His gaze is nearly as heated as their master's. She averts her gaze quickly, unwilling to acknowledge what any of it might mean.
Clint straightens his clothes and within seconds, it's as if their mutual outburst never happened. The only tell being a healthy flush to his cheeks and an obvious spark in his eyes.
"I can only hope, when the time comes, you can manage the same level of excitement." He pegs her with another look, this one somewhere between teasing and stern, as he backs his way to the door. "Let it be known, I take no unwilling participants in my bed."
Her breath catches at the same time as she hears James snort from his place at the table. When she finally manages to break eye contact with Clint, he has nodded to James and the man has made it most of the way to the door without her even noticing him move.
Clint nods his head in her direction, an ever pleasant smile gracing his lips again. "A pleasure, as always, my darling." He gives her a mock bow as the door is opened for him and they both disappear from the room, leaving her alone to calm her racing heart and thoughts.
When she finally makes her way back over to her vacant seat, she slumps into it, exhausted and confused.
What the hell was that?