Clint's room was just barely beginning to be colored with the unmistakable white-yellow of the sun as it reached a higher place in the mid-morning sky. He'd slept okay, mostly because he could still feel the phantom weight of Loki's arm around his waist, but he'd been awake since around six a.m. and he'd spent the few hours since then just starring and thinking. He hadn't decided a single thing.

Thor had been gone for over twelve hours and they probably shouldn't expect him back for a while. Time was so different on Asgard and this wouldn't be the first time he'd promised to only be gone for a little bit and then be gone for months. In the meantime, Clint wanted to take the opportunity to confront Loki and get him out of his system. He just didn't know how.

During their "walk", Steve had convinced Tony to give Loki a room in the tower while they figure out what to do about him. He was only two floors from Clint, just far enough to way to make the archer itch to see him. After their confession session in the med bay yesterday, he was confused and lost in his thoughts.

"Sir?"

Clint groaned but didn't stop staring aimlessly at the ceiling above his bed to answer, "Yeah, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

"Mr. Stark has authorized the repairwoman to replace your door. She is on her way up."

"Boy am I glad he doesn't need my permission to let people into my apartment," he quipped but then huffed. "Yeah, whatever. Send her in." 

A few minutes later he heard a polite, "Mr. Barton?"

"Yeah, don't mind me."

She didn't and started setting up her tools as she leaned the new door against the wall. Clint pushed himself up on his pillows just enough to watch her work. She disappeared from view and came back with other wooden pieces, the frame he assumed. She looked so content, working a job that she was good at. Simple, quiet, one step after another until the job was done.

"What's your name?" Clint asked, breaking the silence. 

She didn't look up from her work when she said, "Jenny."

Clint pursed his lips in thought and shuffled to get more comfortable on his bed, letting the silence sit between them while he put his thoughts in order. "So, Jenny..." 

When he didn't expound on those two words, Jenny turned to look at him and asked, "Something on your mind?"

He huffed and scooted to the end of the bed to slump his elbows onto his knees. "Do you know anything about BDSM?"

That pulled a surprised laughed from the repairwoman. "I know a bit," she admitted as she went back to knocking the door frame into place. She waved her hammer towards him, "Is your dom ticking you off?"

Clint's eyebrows shot up. "What makes you think I have a dom? What makes you think I'm not a dom?"

Jenny pulled her lip between her teeth, narrowing her eyes before she said cautiously, "I didn't mean to assume. You just scream sub to me, and when you asked I thought you were having some relationship troubles." She started on the door hinges. "My baby girl always gets that tone in her voice when I've done something she's not happy about."

He sat up, more alert, and questioned, "You're a dom?"

She raised a brow of her own and shot back, "You bet. Proud caretaker of one sassy baby girl."

Clint threw his hands into the air. "Is everyone in on this thing?"

"What thing?" she asked.

The archer stood and came over to stand by Jenny, leaning against the wall. "This dom/sub thing." He picked at a hangnail and refused to look at her. "I sort of thought it was, you know..."

"I don't," she pushed while she screwed in the last hinge. 

Clint rolled his eyes. "Depraved, disgusting, weak. All the things people say!"

Jenny caught his eye and held it. "You've been hanging out with the wrong people."

"Yeah, well," he rubbed at his eye and scratched his five o'clock shadow, fidgeting, "it's mostly me that says that."

She hummed, understanding, and crossed her arms across her chest, screwdriver hanging from one hand. "New to the community?" she wondered.

"I'm not in the community," he answered. "I'm not even...I don't know what I am."

"Got it," she realized. "Hey, if you want I can ask Charlotte- my partner- to answer some questions. You know, from a sub's point of view. Maybe she can clear things up for you."

Clint watched her, looking for any signs of pity or judgment, but Jenny was waiting expectantly, open and honest. "Yeah," he told her before he could overthink it. "I'd like that. Thanks, Jenny."

"Of course. We've got to support each other. That's the beauty of the community."

He felt a little lighter, a little hopeful, at having a source to help him figure this out that wasn't Loki, that didn't make him want to bend over and present like he was a backwoods, feral cat. He needed a clear head to begin to understand the things he was feeling. He needed help.

God, he hated admitting that- even in his head.

He must have been staring because Jenny waved a hand in his face and said, "Mr. Barton?"

"Yeah, sorry? And, please, call me Clint."

Jenny nodded. "Clint, then. When would you like her to stop by?"

"Oh, uh," he looked at his watch. It was still early. "Is she free sometime today?"

The repairwoman chuckled but nodded. "I think so. Let me double-check she's at home, though?" She pulled out her phone and started typing.

"Yeah, sure, sure," he allowed, realizing that he must seem pushy. He backed up a couple of steps and said, "I'll just let you finish up." He had just turned back to his bed when he remembered. "Oh, by the way. I hope you're up for another job."

She eyed him. "What else did you break?"

"Firstly," Clint held a finger and cocked a hip, "I didn't break my own door down. That was Tony- or Steve, I'm not sure. Second-" He held up his other finger but then winced. "I sort of cracked the tile in my shower when I punched it yesterday."

"Punched it, huh?" she questioned.

He raked a hand through his hair and diverted his eyes around the room. "I've been tense."

"I noticed," she agreed. "Does that have anything to do with the person who is not your dom?"

Clint laughed, aware of how obvious he was. "Maybe."

"Maybe," she repeated, knowingly. Jenny's phone dinged and she checked it. "Looks like she's printing off some stuff for the business, but she can swing by in about an hour."

When Jenny looked to him for confirmation, Clint nodded quickly. "That sounds great. Yeah, good." He clapped his hands awkwardly, walking over to his dresser to change out of his boxers and last night's t-shirt. "Okay, then," he said as he faced the drawers. "It's a date." He opened the drawers and started shuffling things around, unseeing and uncaring. "Just a totally normal everyday meeting." He wiped away the sweat that suddenly prickled at his hairline. "About being submissive." He swallowed. "Not a big deal."

"It's really not." Jenny's voice made Clint jump, and it said something about his mental state that he didn't hear her approach. If she were Natasha, he'd have a knife to his throat right now.

The archer turned and nodded, unsure. "It feels like it is."

Jenny shrugged then. "Well, maybe it is, but not how you're thinking." She placed a comforting hand on Clint's arm and he instinctively leaned into it. "It doesn't change who you are. People don't become subs overnight. Generally, it's something that's always been in there, and now you've found a way to express it."

"You make it sound like I'm coming out of the closet- which," he rolled his eyes, "is a completely different breakdown that I'd prefer not to relive."

She laughed and nodded. "That I get, but can I say something?"

"I think we've established an open dialogue by now, Jenny," Clint observed, making Jenny smile.

"It's not about the person's gender. It really doesn't have anything to do with who they are outside of a scene at all." She threw the hand on his shoulder into the air. "Hell, you don't even have to like your dom," she pointed at him, "but you do have to trust them. At least with this."

"I don't even have to like them..." Clint murmured, thinking.

"I mean, it's way better if you do, but if they give you what you need and take care of you, then who cares what happens outside of that, right?"

Clint sighed. "Right, I guess."

Jenny thumbed behind her. "I'm going to finish your door and then I've got to pick up some supplies for another job."

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead." 

She went back to the open threshold but added. "I'll put in a work order for your shower and I should be able to come fix it pretty soon. That Tony Stark doesn't like to wait."

"No, he does not. Thanks, Jenny."

She offered him a soft smile. "Anytime," she offered, and he knew it was for more than a repair job.

"Mr. Barton, Charlotte is here. Shall I send her up?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. was really getting her workout today. Clint never had visitors, and he'd had two so far today.

He was in the kitchen, fully dressed- not in sweats- and his hair was combed back into a tame quiff. He didn't really know how to cook, but his mom always told him that if someone was doing him a favor, he should make them as comfortable as possible while they did it. So, he'd cut up some fruit and made a salad that he thought looked genuinely good.

"Yeah, thanks, FRIDAY." He sliced the last of the kiwi and dropped it in the bowl, using the wooden fork and spoon to mix up the sweet-smelling delicacies. He dropped his knife into the sink and grabbed two bowls and two forks, rushing to set them at his kitchen island. Just as he placed the large bowl of fruit down, the elevator dinged and he heard faint footsteps around the corner. 

He walked towards the entryway to greet his guest and was surprised by what he saw. Charlotte was short, barely to Clint's shoulder, and he wondered how the height difference between her and the very tall Jenny played out in the bedroom. Beyond that, Charlotte was dressed in a professional, well-fitting knee-length dress that smoothed down her thighs and nipped in around her knees. Her heels were high and sleek, which made her all that much shorter out of them. 

This woman didn't look deviant, disgusting, or weak. She was hot. All chocolate skin and bright teeth. Clint raised two very interested eyebrows. "Charlotte?" he wondered. 

She held out a hand, enthusiastic and confident. "That's me. Clint, right?"

He took the hand and received a strong shake. "Wow," he muttered stupidly as he let his eyes slide down and back up the petite woman.

Charlotte pointed two fingers at him and flicked them up towards the ceiling. "Eyes up here, bud."

Clint felt his cheeks go pink and he yanked his hand away. "I'm so sorry. I just wasn't expecting..."

"A put-together, confident woman? Yeah, most men don't."

The archer waved his hands urgently. "No, no, that's not what I-"

"I'm teasing you, babe. Relax." She lifted her sleek bag from her shoulder and hung it up by Clint's jacket in the hall. "Can we sit somewhere?"

"Of course, yeah." Clint hopped to and led her into the kitchen. "I made us a snack in case you're hungry."

"I am actually. Thanks so much." She pulled herself up onto the tall stool and then kicked her heels off so they landed underneath her. "Yum, fruit." Clint was still standing behind her, wide-eyed and taken aback. Charlotte turned back and nodded her head at the other stool. "Don't make me eat by myself."

Clint scrambled to his stool and dished his own bunch of fruit into his bowl. Charlotte crossed one delicate leg over the other and slanted to face him in her chair, spearing a slice of strawberry and popping it between her bright pink lips. "You look stressed, Clint."

He was stressed. Jesus, this was already the most nerve-wracking thing he'd ever done- and he'd infiltrated the Chinese underground nuclear labs a few years back. Now, not only did he have to admit his shortcomings to someone, but he had to do it while fighting back the urge to lick Charlotte's dark, strong arms and prominent collarbones. 

"I am," he admitted. "Can I be honest?"

"Always," Charlotte permitted. 

"You are stunning."

"That's not honesty, Clint, that's flattery. Jenny did tell you I'm taken, right?"

Clint nodded, rushing to explain. "Yeah, of course. No, I mean- you are breathtaking."

"You mentioned. That's not what you really want to say, though, is it?"

He pushed his bowl away to set his arm on the counter and lean forward. "How do you do it?"

"What exactly?" she asked.

"Keep it together," he urged. "How do you look so confident and calm? How are you not freaking out?"

Charlotte's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why would I be, Clint?"

He took a deep breath, opening his mouth to say something, closing it again, then trying one more time. "I can't do anything. I can't think, I can't fucking breath." He mimed throttling himself. "I feel like I'm losing my mind."

She hummed and nodded, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. "Have you allowed yourself to be taken care of recently?"

Clint licked his lips. "What do you mean?"

The woman looked at him expectantly. "I mean, when was the last time you played? Went under?"

Clint shook his head slowly. "I'm lost."

"How new are you to the community?" Charlotte wondered. 

"I'm not part of this community thing? I don't know what it is."

Charlotte nodded once. "Right. Can we get a little more comfortable?"

Clint's mouth dropped open. "Yeah- yeah, sure." He stood up abruptly and moved to take his shirt off.

"Woah there, kiddo," Charlotte halted him and lowered his arms and shirt back down. "I meant maybe a seat on the couch so we can talk?"

The archer squeezed his eyes shut tight and wished the ground would just swallow him up. "I knew that." He rubbed his arm nervously. "I swear, I'm not usually this dumb. I'm just really nervous."

Charlotte touched his arm, making him open his eyes. She was close, looking up at him with a smirk. "You're cute, Clint Barton. I might have to talk to Jenny about you." With that, she walked around him and into the open living room. He had no idea what that meant, but it sounded promising.

***

I didn't really intend for these characters to appear but I quite like these ladies. Mwah! Xoxo, Jess