Acceptance
"Natasha."
What can she say to him? What can she say to the man she is marrying in just a few days when he has just caught her kissing his longtime lover?
James is still a solid presence next to her, but she has put enough distance between them that she can no longer feel his body heat.
She finds she feels lost without it.
Squaring her shoulders, she breaths in and holds it, settling the last bit of her nerves. Inside she's still a swirling bundle of anxiety, but she knows she presents a strong facade. Chin lifted, she braces for whatever is to come next. "My Lord."
His eyes darken a bit at the use of his title. The reaction could be taken one of several ways, but he is doing a better job than she's happy admitting at concealing his true emotions.
James places a hand on her shoulder. It's very steadying. "Natasha. It's alright. Relax. He's not mad. He's not even upset."
She spares him a glance, but quickly returns to watching Clint. He is holding himself very stiffly, spine straight in a way she rarely sees him now that she is allowed to witness the more casual version of who he is.
She has learned he favors poor posture when left alone. Or with his love-
Lover. Just one. Just the one lover. And his soon to be wife. Not lovers, never that.
What had she been thinking???
She had kissed James. Or he had kissed her. Either way, she was under no illusions; she had let it happen. Encouraged it, in fact.
And now they have been caught.
By her future husband and James' lover! Her thoughts are a mess trying to work through what exactly is going to happen next and why exactly she had thought that would be a good idea.
Her breathing is coming more quickly than normal again, this time directly related to the spiral of her thoughts. And it all stems from the fact Clint won't say anything, won't open up and scold her, or question them, or shout about how could they do such a thing or-
"Out in the open? Really?" His voice is low when he speaks and Natasha goes still, breath getting stuck in her lungs at the sound of it. "I thought you were better than that, James."
It is a scolding. But not the kind she was expecting, the kind she was dreading.
James looks at Clint, open mouthed.
Not the reaction he was expecting either then.
"Inside. Both of you." The command is short, serious but not unkind. They both gape at him.
He's right, of course. This is no place to be having this conversation. While it is far enough away from the estate that they are unlikely to be interrupted, there is still the possibility of them being seen.
She sees James clench his jaw out of the corner of her eye. After a moment, he hefts himself up off the ground. Looking at Clint, he gestures with his eyes at Natasha. Clint gives the barest shake of his head.
James rolls his eyes, but steps closer to Natasha. He holds out both hands for her to take so he can pull her up. He must feel the tremble of her fingers as she wraps them around his, but he just holds her tight until he is sure she is steady on her feet.
They wait while she brushes herself off, getting the blades of grass and bits of leaves to stop clinging to her clothing. It wouldn't do for the woman who is taking over the running of the household in a few days to come back looking like she had been romping around in the forest.
The fact that that's exactly what she had been doing is beyond the point.
Eventually she is satisfied with her appearance, meaning she has come to the conclusion that it's as good as it's going to get, and she looks back at the men.
James is watching her, had been the whole time she was fiddling with her clothing, because she could feel his heavy gaze the entire time.
Clint, she finds, is watching James.
Every muscle she can see is tensed. His hands are clenched at his side, veins popping out in his forearms and his neck. He looks like the strain of not making physical contact is physically paining him.
Looking back at James, she can see why.
He hasn't bothered to tidy himself up quite as well as Natasha had. He still looks very rumpled. His clothing is bunched in places it shouldn't be, his hair a bit wild, shirt coming untucked on one side, dirt on the elbow of his shirt where he had reclined on the ground, drawing her on top of him…
And his lips are the delightful red of being recently kissed, eyes slightly dilated, the intensity behind his stare making him look a bit on the wild side.
She refuses to look past his chest, but she can still tell, from her peripheral vision, that he's hard. She had known it from having been pressed on top of him the way she was, but seeing it with Clint there, not knowing how seeing James like this is affecting him…
She feels hot all over. And she's sure it isn't all from the embarrassment of being caught anymore.
Clint turns and heads off across the open grass, making straight for the door. James gestures with a hand for her to follow, with him bringing up the rear.
James doesn't watch her at all on the walk back to the manor. Or if he does, she suddenly has no awareness of it, which, a week ago she would have thought to be a blessing.
Now it feels more like a curse.
Clint reaches the door first, by quite a wide berth. He stands and holds it open for Natasha and then James after her. He makes no eye contact with her as she passes, but stares blatantly at James as he walks by.
He usually has much more tact for hiding these things when they are in any way exposed to the public. Natasha's eyes scour the hall quickly, making sure they haven't been seen. Thankfully, the hall is deserted.
James comes to a stop beside Natasha, raising an eyebrow at her. She shrugs back at him, both of their gazes turning to Clint, awaiting further instruction. Neither are sure of what exactly his plans are, so they are loath to try and guess, lest they get it wrong.
Clint rolls his eyes and passes them, turning a corner and taking the first staircase he comes to, long legs taking two at a time.
They get off the stairs and turn several corners. Natasha would be lost if she weren't following directly behind Clint. James is still a step behind them, bringing up the rear.
Finally, they came to a door. Natasha recognizes it as the entrance to Clint's rooms.
She has never been here before, never felt it was her place to come to his private space. Now that she is here, she wishes she had thought to come before. Some familiarity would be nice in a situation like this.
At least she wouldn't be in such uncertain territory.
Clint had already opened the door and strode in, not waiting for anything. James caught the door behind him, shrugging apologetically at Natasha as she stands rooted to the spot in shock.
"Thank you." It's the first she has spoken since standing up. She meant it though. In all likelihood, she would have been smacked in the face with the door as it swung shut otherwise. She isn't exactly processing at top performance at the moment.
"After you." James has a smirk on his face that Natasha would want to smack right off if she wasn't so focused on what's about to happen.
She nods as she passes him again. He steps in after her, letting the door close behind him, latching it softly once it had. Stopping just inside the door, she looks around for Clint.
They had entered into a small entertaining room, a place for company, which is much more polite than what Natasha was expecting. There's a table with several chairs, a couple of cushioned seats with smaller tables flanking them, and even a fireplace. It's very cozy and has her missing her parents' home with a pang she hasn't felt in years.
She must have given some sign of the inner turmoil she's feeling, because James is beside her suddenly, taking her hand in his and squeezing softly. She is thankful for his awareness and squeezes back, swallowing a lump that had appeared in her throat suddenly.
Clint had continued on into the room, disappearing through a doorway that Natasha assumed leads to his actual bedchamber. Glancing at James, he nods. Small, but enough.
She takes a few steps forward, feeling hesitant, but determined not to show it. Even to these men who seem to have no problem seeing right through her.
Approaching the open doorway, she tips her head to the side to peek into the room.
Clint is sitting at a small cushioned chair settled under a small window. There is another chair opposite it as well as a tiny table between them.
There are papers laid out on the table in front of him that he is staring at rather intently.
He looks up suddenly, taking in a breath and gesturing to the empty chair across from him. Natasha nods once and marches her way to the chair, sitting before she can get any ideas of what is happening or why.
She can feel James' presence behind her. He isn't close, hovering instead in the doorway. She wonders if he is as uncertain as she is about what Clint has planned for them.
Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Clint folds his hands, long fingers twining together under his chin. Natasha's heart jumps in her chest when he finally speaks.
"We have some things we need to discuss."
Her throat begins to tighten again. That's not a great start to this conversation.
Clint clears his throat in a very 'let's get to it' manner. "We are only two days from the wedding. There are certain matters we need to have addressed before then."
She nods slowly. She isn't sure what specifically he is referring to, but she had known they would be having this discussion at some point.
"Good. Glad we're on the same page. Now," he reaches out and picks up some of the papers from the table. "These are the legal documents I had drawn up detailing the relationship between us. The protections in place for both parties, expectations, etc. You may read them over at your leisure over the next day or so. But I insist, they must be agreed upon by the day of the wedding."
He holds out the papers for her to take. Her hand doesn't shake when she lifts it from her lap, but she fears she won't be able to control it much more than that. She fights the urge to look over her shoulder, to see James.
That she feels like seeking his approval is ridiculous. She is glad that he had chosen to remain behind her. This really is between Clint and herself. Deal with it, she tells herself. This is not even close to the most difficult thing you've dealt with.
She sits back, papers in hand, staring at the first page uncomprehendingly. It's a lot of words and she draws a sudden blank on how to read them. Clint is still watching her, waiting for her to say something.
His eyes are roving over her face and Natasha doubts he is doing anything as innocent as appreciating the view. She hasn't seen herself yet, deliberately not looking at the small mirror hanging above the fireplace when they had walked in. In hindsight, she wishes she would have. Having no idea what he's seeing makes her self conscious.
She crosses her legs in the chair, smoothing a hand down her hair in an effort to make sure she looks presentable. It isn't much, but it's the best she could do to try and convince herself she isn't at such a disadvantage.
Giving up on getting a reaction out of her, Clint leans back again. "Well. You can take your time with those documents, then. There's no rush and you should look over them closely, of course. Just let me know when you are finished reading them through. Any changes, questions you might have… demands even." He smiles at her, the joke she had been decidedly unprepared for catching her off guard.
"Yes, I will look it over. And I'm sure if it isn't to my liking, you will be the first to hear about it." She doesn't include the fact that he would be the only one, save for James, to hear about it, but figured the implication is obvious.
Clint nods, still smiling. Something about the exchange has him very pleased with himself. "Right. James, dear. Would you run and fetch us our meal? I would rather dine here. I don't wish to be interrupted tonight. Probably better if we just keep to my rooms."
James nods his understanding, eyes landing on Natasha as she finally allows herself to turn and seek his gaze. He looks equally happy, which is even more odd than it is coming from Clint, because he hadn't even been involved in the interaction and he so rarely expresses his happiness.
As he gives his mocking form of a bow, the one he never fails to give when they are alone (she assumes as a precaution, should they ever not be as alone as they think), he makes direct eye contact with Natasha through his lashes.
Her heartbeat quickens just a bit and her cheeks flush as she turns back to Clint, and then James leaves the room, a cocky smile gracing his lips in a way that she wishes she could find irritating like she should.
She wonders if she will ever get past this ridiculous swooning reaction she has for him.
Looking back to see Clint focusing on her the way he is, she curses momentarily having forgotten there are two of them.
"So, Natasha. You seem to have gotten James to open up to you quite nicely." There is a laugh in his voice, held tight behind the apparent need to tease her.
Oh, here it comes, she thinks. Although, if he can joke about it, she feels confident he isn't too upset about it.
She isn't quite flustered by it, but she is at a loss when it comes to what to say in response. Leaning forward in her seat to lay her hands on the table between them, she manages to answer, "I suppose you could say that, yes." She chuckles, but the sound is awkward.
"Well, since he seems to have gotten to you first, I would like my chance to catch up." The blue of his eyes glint with mischief as she watches. He softens a bit, leaning forward again. "If that's alright with you, of course."
Natasha blinks at him. "I- catch up? I'm not sure what it is you're referring to…"
Clint reaches a hand out across the table, a single finger stroking along her knuckles. "Whatever you're willing to give to me." He keeps his voice casual, but there's a current of something more under it all.
Her breath speeds up, goosebumps raising along the skin of her arms. Her eyes remain glued to his hand where he touches her. That contact is the only thing she can focus on.
Clint, watching her stiffen up, her breathing coming fast now, places his whole hand on hers, a light touch that relaxes her clenched fists. She is thankful for it, but is torn between wishing he would have stopped touching her all together and wanting him to touch her in so many other places instead.
Her mind is reeling from how vastly different the two thoughts are.
"Natasha? I'm sorry. Would you rather we wait until James returns with the food?" He moves to draw his hand back. She panics and stops thinking entirely. Before he can actually break contact, she flips her hands over so they're palm up and grabs ahold of his wrist.
She looks up to see him looking at their hands where she holds him. Finally, he blinks and his eyes find hers. "So, you do know what I was referring to."
Deciding quickly that if this is the opportunity she is being given, maybe she should take it. Natasha is a slave, engaged to be married to the man in front of her; there are worse fates than to be attracted to one's husband. Especially when one's husband is also attracted to them.
It may not be the relationship every woman dreams of, complete with fairy tales such as love and honest affection, but these men respect her. They have both shown her that.
Yes, she could definitely do worse.