InsaneJournal

Who: Natasha, Clint
What: Catching up after Nat arrives
When: backdated, April 8th after this post
Rating/Warning: green


Clint was on his way over for their long overdue face to face. At least his with this version of her. It still took some doing to wrap her head around the thought of other hers floating in and out of this universe.

It’s why she was still getting used to the confines of her new apartment. It was and wasn’t hers. Everything in the closet were outfits and brands she’d choose for herself. She just had no memories of when that happened because she hadn’t been the one to do so. Her gear was the same and even the decorating was to her taste. She wasn’t sure if that was the previous hers or whatever decorating algorithm Tony had developed for this place. Sometimes it all made her skin crawl.

One of the good things about it was that she didn’t have to worry about her alcohol supply. Opening the kitchen cupboards to find where it was was also painless. The one dedicated to alcohol had been stocked to the brim with everything and anything she’d ever want for a late night drinking binge. She pulled out everything she and Clint would need for this discussion and set it on the living room table.

Clint had been looking at the world through the bottom of a glass more than he had at any point since the bad decisions of his early twenties. He used to be careful about things like that, afraid of being the kind of father his old man was. The kind that didn’t have a word for anyone when he walked in the door until he cracked open a beer. Clint’s father was a mean bastard and a violent drunk and it had killed him. Clint wanted to be more for his own kids. Now there he didn’t have much to fill his time except to get drunk. It was easier than the silence and the ache of missing.

He stepped up to Natasha’s door, rapping his knuckles on it in a particular pattern, an old code to let her know it was him and he was alone.

Natasha had poured herself a drink and was savoring the first sip from a seat on the couch when the knock sounded. She set the drink down and went to open the door. Once it was open she immediately pulled Clint into a tight hug. She knew better than to say anything. No words were necessary. Clint was desperately hurting and nothing she said or did would make that better. All she could do was be there for him. Getting through it was only a journey he could start for himself. Hopefully the previous hers hadn’t done too much damage on that front. It sounded like they hadn’t helped him even get started at all.

“Hey, long time no see, friend,” she said softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hey, you too,” Clint said, eyes crinkling with a smile. “It’s been a minute.” The last version of her had really put the ‘alternate’ in alternate universe. That Natasha hadn’t been his best friend and Clint had missed her.

All these apartments were laid out in a similar way so Clint made his way to the couch when he pulled away, making himself at home. He poured himself a whiskey and raised the glass. “Welcome to the universe.”

Natasha settled back into her spot on the couch, tucked against one of the arms, and picked her glass up again. She clinked it against his and said, “It’s definitely been something.” She took a large swallow and gazed into the glass for a moment. “Not sure I’m going to get over the deja vu and everything else.”

She watched him, unsure how to broach the loss of his family and just how complicated this alternate universe was.

“Once you’ve been here for a little while, people kind of forget there were other yous. It gets easier. Last you seemed to be mad at mad for something so you’re already making strides there,” Clint offered. “I wonder if any of the other mes were weird. Nobody said.”

“That’s good to hear. I would hate for that to be hanging over my head all the time. Some unscrupulous folks might use that as a way to call in favors they don’t deserve.” Natasha arched an eyebrow. “I still stand by my initial assessment of previous me and that she was a bitch. She must’ve come from a universe even more fucked up than mine.” She reached for some of the pretzels she’d placed on a bowl on the table. “Hmm. Sounds like they weren’t. Otherwise, you’d probably have heard before now.”

“I think maybe the me where she was from let her down. Took a bad punch or something, I don’t know. I’ve done worse, I s’pose.” Clint sipped from his glass. “How you taking all this? Doing all right?”

“Maybe.” It didn’t sound like her no matter the circumstances that may have lead to it. Natasha shrugged at his question and sunk back into the plush couch. “Adjusting, I think. I had a lot of information thrown at me and sorting that out only does so much.”

Clint had a long drink. “I think the thing to do is forget about the other yous. You’re here now. The other ones don’t matter. It’s your life now. Can’t change what they did. Stop worrying about it.”

“Easier said than done.” Natasha followed suit and took a long drink of her own. “But guess people have had more experience dealing with that than I have.” It irked her having random stuff done in her name by people that weren’t her. She should be used to it.

“Such a control freak,” Clint said with a wide smile. “You’re just mad you can’t boss around your past selves.”

Natasha stuck her tongue out at him. “That may be part of it,” she admitted. “Though I would say pot, kettle. You like things just so as much as I do.”

Clint scoffed, warm from whiskey. Words tumbled out as if this was just another night between the of them. “I’ve got three kids, it’d be chaos otherwise.” Except it wasn’t any other night and the smile faded fast.

Natasha watched the happiness drain out of Clint as fast as it had appeared. The grief was raw and present and filled the room. She reached out for his hand and squeezed it. She didn’t have any words. No words could even begin to console Clint. All she could do was be his friend and hope that was enough to help him through this.

Clint squeezed Natasha’s hand and then and then reached for his drink. He smiled a little at Nat over the rim of his glass as if to say ‘See? I’m fine.’