Something a bit dark (for me): Clint never actually broke entirely free from Loki's control / still had lingering issues until Loki died. Or until the stone that powered the tesseract was destroyed.

YES! so many opportunities with this one! I am all about a DarkClint and/or Loki and Clint fic

I know darker fic is up your alley *grins* and someone asked about darker prompts so I thought i'd have a go at leaving one. I rarely think them up though; I have an AU brain, ha.

🤗and this is why I adore you!😍

💜💜💜

Gotta provide a variety of prompts to tempt everyone 😄

Title: lingering doubts
Rating: Teen
Warnings: swearing, nightmares, insomnia, and some angst with a side of cuddling
also on AO3
Notes: I don't think this turned out very dark but it does feel angsty, I think.

---


Clint rubs his eyes. "Nat?" a smile slowly forms on his lips and doesn't she love that - that smile, just for her. "How'd you find me?" He answers the door wearing striped pajama bottoms and a faded purple t-shirt. She can tell he hasn't been sleeping well from the way he holds his body, the softness of his voice, and the tiredness in his eyes. "Spy, remember?" She locks the door behind her and lets him pull her into his arms. Minutes tick by as she allows herself to sink into his touch. Into him. She hasn't let herself feel how much she's missed him until this moment.

Clint pulls back and brushes a lock of hair out of her face. "Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but what are you doing here?"

She offers him a smile, aiming for sweet yet coy. "Can't a girl visit her boyfriend?"

Clint leans against the counter and sighs. "Is that what we are?" It's an old argument. Tired and worn. She lets the smile linger on her face a few moments longer before letting it fall. They're so much more than boyfriend and girlfriend. So much more than friends. "I like to think what we are defies definition." It sounds like the truth.

"Nat, it's me."

She hangs her jacket on a hook by the door and stashes her bag in the corner by the sofa. "I missed you and I was worried about you."

"You were worried about me?" Clint laughs. "Nat, you're the one who ran around kicking HYDRA's ass and dismantling S.H.I.E.L.D. with Captain America."

She shrugs as if it had been no big deal. As if she hadn't exposed herself to the world. "You heard about that?"

"I may have caught something about it on the news."


They play catch up, eat leftover pizza, and share a couple of beers. Afternoon turns into evening and eventually settles into night. From what she can tell from his trash and recycling situation Clint's been living mostly on pizza and beer for longer than seems healthy. She should've checked in with him sooner.

*

Clint doesn't know what to think when she shows up on his doorstep a few days after flipping the bird to a bunch of idiotic politicians. No one's supposed to know about this place, not even her. He should've known she'd find it. Not that he's trying to keep secrets from her, not exactly, or maybe he is trying to keep secrets from her. Like the fact that he's spent the better part of the last two days awake because the bone numbing exhaustion and fatigue are nothing compared to what waited for him in his dreams.

She falls asleep first, something that almost never happens. He lies awake for a least an hour until wakefulness blossoms into sleep against his will.


"Did you miss me, Barton?" A wide, gleaming smile appears in the darkness. "I think you did, didn't you?" Loki steps out of the shadows like the dramatic bitch he is.

"No." He's had this dream before. If it is a dream. Fuck, he hopes it's only a dream.

"You can admit it to me, I won't tell anyone." Loki looks off to the side as if he's there in the room. "Not even her."

Fear grips him. "Stay away from her. She's not yours."

"But you are." Loki's voice purrs in his ear.

"Clint!"

His eyes snap open, Natasha looms over him, so much concern showing on her face that it makes him want to turn away. "Sorry," Clint gasps out, trying to catch his breath. "Bad dream." His throat feels raw and rough. He must've been screaming in his sleep again.

Natasha raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say, No, shit! She moves over and he sits up, leaning his back against the cold hard wall. He glances at the clock. Oh goody, he'd managed to get almost three hours of sleep this time. He lets his head bang against the wall and closes his eyes. He's so fucking tired of this.

"Clint?" There's fear in her voice now.

"I'm fine," he mumbles. It's a lie, of course. He hasn't been fine in a long time.

"Is this why you haven't been sleeping?"

Clint opens his eyes. "Who says I haven't been sleeping?."

Natasha gives him a very pointed look and Clint sighs. "Yeah, that's why I haven't been sleeping." He runs his hand through his hair and frowns. "Not much anyway."

"How long?"

"Since New York." When he's busy, he barely notices it. When he hits the bed exhausted after a long day of running around and jumping off buildings he sleeps fine. Well, mostly fine. But whenever he tries to rest or take some kind of fucking break it all falls apart. He's not sure how much longer he can keep doing this. Living like this. He feels like he's being undone all over again.

"Anything else besides the nightmares?"

Clint hesitates. He doesn't really want to tell her the truth but he doesn't want to lie to her either.

He looks down at his hands. "Mostly."

"What else?"

"Sometimes I hear his voice in my head telling me to do stuff," he admits reluctantly.

Natasha is suddenly very alert. "What kind of stuff, Clint?"

the bad kind "It doesn't matter what kind of stuff, I don't do what he tells me." He shakes his head. "I don't think it's really him. I think they're just echoes." Or maybe Loki's hooks were in him still but that's one fear he refuses to give voice to.

"This isn't good, Clint."

Laughter bubbles out of him. "Ya think?"

"You need to talk to someone."

He turns and flashes her a smile. "I am talking to someone."

Natasha looks less than impressed. "Someone who knows more about this than I do."

"Who?" Who could he even begin to talk to about this? Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. still existed he wouldn't trust their shrinks with this, not unless he was looking to get himself locked away and experimented on for who knows how long.

"Bruce or Doctor Selvig, maybe?" Natasha suggests.

Neither one's a bad idea but something in him wants to resist. Suddenly completely exhausted, he closes his eyes again.

"Clint, whatever this is, you don't have to do it alone." Natasha leans against him, her head on his shoulder, and he puts his arm around her.

He drifts off for a bit but his eyes snap open when Natasha gets out of bed. She goes to her bag, fishes inside, and pulls out a small vial. "Here, drink this," she says, handing it to him.

"Do I want to know what's in this?" He holds it up and peers at it. There isn't a label. The dark amber glass masks whatever's inside.

"Do you want to sleep?"

"Without nightmares?

She nods. "I have some phone calls to make." She kisses him. "Sweet dreams."

He downs the contents of the vial in one swig and grimaces. It tastes like old socks left out on a hot summer day. "Here's hoping."


Edited 2024-08-27 08:38 pm (UTC)

ACK!!!! Clint, nooooooooo

Poor Clint ♥

Aww, Clint, no :(

I like the uncertainty, that it could just be nightmares, or echoes... or it could be more; that part of the fear is the not knowing, but that if he does know for sure the answer could be worse. Which ties nicely into not wanting to voice it to anyone, and oh the trust to be able to tell Natasha, even if she does have to catch him in a nightmare first.

Thank you :)