"You know you can't keep blaming yourself for what happened, right?"
"Of course I can. It was my fault.”
"He always hated it when you blamed yourself."
"Can we stop talking about him?"
Those blue-green eyes that everyone in the compound had grown to love since meeting Steve had gone dull. They lost their usual spark a long time ago. Natasha couldn't even remember the last time she saw Steve even crack a full smile.
He never did, during this time of the year, anyway.
Every night for almost two and a half years after their battles were over, Natasha and Tony had to listen to the loud, bloodcurdling screams and cries that came from Steve's room as a result of everything he'd been through.
"Give us something to work with here, Rogers," Tony spoke with a soft voice, trying to coax Steve into talking to them, or at least one of them. Having dealt with PTSD and anxiety in the past, and having suffered to that very day, he thought he could help. At least, try to. He didn't want to snap at Steve. Not right now, when he needed all of them.
"I said I wanted to stop talking about him," Steve took a deep, shaky breath, turning his head sharply to look at his two friends that were only trying to make him feel better.
"We're tired of seeing you like this," Natasha spoke up again at Steve's protest, "but we can give you some time alone." She nodded at Tony behind the Captain's back, and they both left to allow Steve some space to breathe.
The second Steve's bedroom door shut, he stood up, pacing around the area. No matter what, he was just totally unable to keep still. His eyes landed on one of his two bedside tables - the one on the left side. Clint's side. He hadn't opened the drawers in years, not since after his funeral, when he went to find the hearing aids he'd left in his drawers. Nat had insisted that he might want them, so it was Steve's job to find and bring them. He was the only one who really wanted to, anyway. Anything just to give him those last few moments where he could pretend everything was alright, that Clint was just out somewhere, or in the kitchen eating a pizza slice that he'd dropped off the floor, or downing a whole pot of coffee. Usual things that Steve had gotten used to seeing, little reasons why he ended up falling in love with his favorite little dorky archer.
Before he knew it, the old soldier was crying, on his knees right next to their bed. He thought he'd cried his share of tears a long time ago. He had convinced himself that this year, he could handle it. He could go to the cemetery and not be reduced to a sobbing, hyperventilating mess. Almost a whole decade and the super-soldier still couldn't handle it.
Gathering the strength after a good twenty minutes' cry, Steve reached over with shaking hands and opened the drawer, looking inside. He figured he could find something of Clint's, an old photo or something, that he could bring to the cemetery to give to Clint, as a birthday present. Much to his surprise, it was empty. Well... almost totally empty.
A solitary black box sat at the bottom of Clint's drawer. A small one. Steve was surprised, honestly, that he hadn't noticed it before. He could've sworn it hadn't been there... Unless he just ignored it or something. Picking it up slowly, he held it for a second, before deciding he should open it. He was curious as to what Clint could possibly have been hiding from him.
Steve almost couldn't believe it when he opened the little box and saw nothing inside except a little piece of paper.
Taking it and unfolding it, the first thing he noticed was Clint's slightly messy handwriting. He hadn't seen that in years. Why, of all things, was this note left? Looking it over, Steve read slowly,
"Remember that note you wrote on the pizza box from our first date? I kept it. It's in my closet, on the top shelf. Look inside. -Clint"
Of course he kept it. Of course. Oh, Steve loved that dork so much. The soldier was laughing, but tears continued to stream down his face the more he thought about that strange little pizza-loving, coffee-drinking archer. Why had he been the one who had to go so soon? Why couldn't it had been the other way around? If Steve could go back, trade his life for Clint's... he would.
Doing as the note had said, curiosity getting the best of him, he opened up the closet, the hinges on the doors squeaking from not being used in ages. At first, he couldn't find the box Clint had mentioned. Of course he'd been messing with him. He always used to do that.
Steve stepped back from the door, about to shut the closet again, until the box on the top shelf caught his eye. There it was, sitting right next to Clint's folded uniform from forever ago. Must've been Nat who put it away. As if Clint ever folded his clothes properly before putting it away. Almost unable to reach it, he managed to pull the box off of the shelf and set it down on the bed. In his own, neat handwriting, written in smudged Sharpie marker was some stupid little joke Steve had written long ago about his pick-up line being too "cheesy". Smooth, Steve. Real smooth. Normally he would've been embarrassed, finding something like this, but... he only felt a weird mix of thrilled and extremely upset, all at once.
Steve opened the box, which was slightly crushed and definitely falling apart from spending years stuffed in Clint's closet. Again, what he noticed, written on the top of the inside of the box was the archer's handwriting.
"I know this is cheesy, but I don't know how else to ask... Will you marry me?"
A little gold wedding band was taped to the bottom of the box. Steve didn't even notice it at first, because of the tears in his eyes. Oh God. When he saw it, he only sobbed harder, to the point where he was almost unable to breathe.
When he finally started to relax, he whispered a little "Yes" to himself, without even really thinking about it. Removing the ring from the box, he slipped it on. It fit perfectly. How had Clint known his ring size? ...That didn't even really matter now, did it?
It had taken ages for Steve to stop listening to voicemails Clint had previously left on his phone. Now he had a ring. And he never wanted to take it off. He also didn't want the others to know about it, though... They were concerned about him as it was. He didn't want them to question him even more.
And so, Steve wore it on a chain around his neck, tucked underneath his shirt. He knew he wouldn't lose it that way, at least.
-----
At night, when everybody in the Avengers compound was either asleep or otherwise shut away in their bedrooms, Steve headed off to the cemetery to go and visit Clint. He wasn't buried too far away, at least. An hour or so away from the compound.
He found the gray stone relatively easily, and sat in his usual spot, right in front of it. "Hey... Happy birthday, Clint. Getting old now, huh?" He hugged his knees to his chest, staring at the name engraved in front of him.
"Oh... I have this, by the way. I finally found it. Sorry it took me so long. That was an awesome proposal," Steve pointed out with a little smile, pulling the ring out from under his shirt and letting it hang there instead. "I said yes, in case you didn't hear me," he continued, "And I brought you something. I know you always loved these, so I figured it was good to bring them to you..."
He placed the bunch of flowers in front of the stone, wiping his eyes to make sure he didn't start crying. He didn't really think he had any tears left in him anyway. "I love you. I really, really miss you. Everyone does." He sighed, absolutely heartbroken that he had to be sitting here, talking to a gravestone, instead of Clint. They could be talking about their wedding. They may have already been married at this point.
Steve spent hours and hours, until the sun started to come up again, sitting and talking to Clint. It wasn't his birthday anymore, but... that didn't matter. Reluctant to leave, but knowing he had to get back, he stood up. "Goodnight, Clint. I love you," he repeated for what was probably the millionth time that night.
He left soon after that, starting to make his way back to the Avengers compound before anybody knew he was gone.
No matter what Steve did from then on, whether he was on a mission or not, he wore his ring around his neck. He never took it off for anything.
And he spent every single day missing the hell out of Clint Barton.