Warnings: none
Characters: Clint, Natasha, Loki
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort, romance | Smut: yes
Word count: 37154 | Status: complete
Clint leaves it for two days, three days, a week, drowns himself in good vodka and bad calls, does his best not to think about it. He’s watched Natasha play this game before, post-apocalypse patch jobs—because that’s what this is, really, whether he’ll say it out loud or not. The end of the world can land hard even if the world’s still spinning; nothing quite like a good bout of mind control to remind you that you’re not in control at all.My comment: Aside from some names wrongly spelt, you’re going to love the plot, the idea, the story and the everything.
He leaves it for a week, seven aching days where he doesn’t speak to anyone, doesn’t read the news, hides his phone underneath the hotel mattress and doesn’t go outside. He leaves it for a week, because it’s supposed to be his turn, damn it; he leaves it for a week because he knows the truth, if he’s honest, suspected it the moment he woke up and knew it for certain when she let him walk away. A week is as long as he can let himself live in limbo, can play at excuses and drown it in drink. On the eighth day, he picks up his phone.
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