“I thought you said you weren't her boyfriend.”

“Twelve-year-olds have boyfriends. I'm her man.”

**HIGH FIVES YOU LIKE WHOA**

Clint totally identifies himself as being her man. Totally.

SEVEN MILLION POINTS TO YOU.

Also, I will so write this.

:D! It is the best quote, and wheeeeeeeeeeee.

Head canon accepted.

Sometimes, I think Jason Walsh has informed far too much of how I see Clint.

And then I remind myself I don't actually have a problem with this *g* And Clint'd totally call himself Natasha's man.

I'm the same way! I link Walsh and Clint in my head, two sides of the same coin.

*melts*

I love this quote so much...and it's so very Clint-on-Natasha.

As I was reading it, I could see him saying it! I could see the way his eyebrow quirks up and the way his body language tightens just for a breath or two, as if he's remembering everything that has gotten them to the current point in time.

*flails*

ooooo! This actually helps drive a story I started last night! *skulks away to ponder*

:D! Glad to have been of service!

I just watched this show, btw. ::twicecough:: LOVE THIS QUOTE!!!

Clint's been sitting on the roof, overlooking the construction lights blazing through Manhattan for close to an hour when he hears the door open.

Clint doesn't look over until Steve says "hey," because sometimes the super soldier likes to pretend he's alone on the roof (deck? Clint's not really sure what you call a roof with its own roof, beyond kind of defeating the purpose. He's not stupid enough to try to climb on top and upset Stark's attempts to "make solar technology actually efficient for, like, sub-Saharan Africa or any place that actually gets sun," though, not to mention the wiggly gadgets of architectural and/or wiring intent). That's cool; the circus and the army were both spaces so shared that Clint's well aware of how much privacy is a polite fiction or a place inside your head.

"Hey," he says, rolling his shoulders and straightening his posture. He tilts his head to the space next to him on the stairs between the raised deck space (which has tables, chairs, a mini-bar) and the flat area in front of the railings which nominally separate "indoors" from "out".

Steve folds himself down onto the stair, elbows resting on his knees, and Clint realizes that he's missing both his notebook and the tablet he's been fiddling with for a few weeks.

He sighs, a bit, and rubs at his left eye with the heel of his hand. "You here to give me a pep talk, Cap?"

"I wish you guys wouldn't call me that," Steve says, but there's no heat to it. "Are you looking for one?"

"I could pass," Clint says, and Steve nods.

After a couple minutes, Steve clears his throat and Clint looks over. "Tony's been kind of a jerk today."

Clint snorts. "Today and every day. I didn't see you or Banner doing much better, though."

Sure, Stark'd been the one to talk about Natasha's... physical appearance in eloquent detail over pizza, like her being in Montreal meant abandoning all tact was a fucking matter of course, but Steve'd just blushed and not contributed, and Banner'd hemmed and hawed without committing to anything.

It'd been all Clint could manage not to burst out with a fuck you, because even though his anger has a protective edge to it (that's his wife, Tony, and not knowing does not get you any free passes) the worst of it is born out of a disgust for how unprofessional it was, like Nat's one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agents because she's decorative or something. Not for the first time (but for the first time not born of one of Natasha's stories from when she was working for Stark Industries), Clint's disgusted that Tony was able wriggle his way out of sexual harassment training by leaving a note-taker. And he... didn't have the words to explain that when he was angry, didn't want any violence to occur and be taken the wrong way.

"Yeah," Steve says, and his mouth twists in something that's not quite an apology. That's okay; Clint's not the one who needs to be apologized to. He's quiet for a long moment, clearly searching for what to say. "Natasha's a hard worker," he ends up with, then winces at how it sounds. "I, uh –"

Clint figures he'll give him a break, even though stammering Steve is kind of entertaining. "I know what you mean. She studies a lot."

Steve sighs, with an edge of relief, and nods. He and Natasha've been getting pretty close; something about Natasha finally finding someone who appreciates books. Clint kind of hopes Steve'll end up liberating a few shelves from their apartment's impromptu library in San Diego, at least before it takes over the apartment proper from its stronghold in the study. "Not that it's any of my business," Steve says, and pauses; Clint makes an inquiring noise. "She's your gal?"

Clint's startled for a moment, and then he laughs. "I'm not sure about that," he says, and it's a bit humorously self-deprecating – he doesn't really think Nat'd contradict it, but he'd feel awkward accepting it for her. "But yeah, I'm her man."

"Ah, right." Steve half-grins, a bit distant but amused. "I know how that one goes."

I am a very slow Ash, and just worked out that 'Montreal' is where I sent Nat in my ficlet Pelmeni and now I'm going :DDDDDD a lot at in-story references. I HEART OUR SHARED HEADCANON AND VARIOUS 'VERSES.

That aside, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiic. And just, yes, to all of Clint's roiling cold anger with both protective and the disgust at unprofessional behaviour, and the yesssss to being so angry he's not doing anything in case it makes it worse. And Steeeeeeeeeeeeeve, and the trying to be friend but still a bit awkward turtle and yes to the mutual understanding of 'actually, I'm hers' and, fiiiic

*draws hearts around*

Steve is the awkwardest turtle. steeeeve.

*hugs* ♥. I legit though you knew that went I ran it past you for comprehensibleness :P. But haha, I AM GLAD YOU LIKED THE TIMELINE NOTING.

Note: I am so late for work right now it isn't funny, so I am just linking to the fic on AO3.

objects in mirror (are closer than they appear) (http://archiveofourown.org/works/500435)