A moment passed in which Clint wasn't certain you were going to respond to him at all. He almost wished you hadn't when you turned away from his touch and the light caught the sheen of tears in your eyes. Son of a bitch. His urge to beat the shit out of Rumlow was increasing by the moment.

"Don't worry about it. It's over."

Anger flared through him that you would still protect your father after everything he'd done, but before he could protest, Maria spoke up. "I know you'd rather just forget it, but you can't honestly expect us to let this go? This is too far."

You shrugged and gave a little laugh. "It doesn't matter. He's finally done what he wanted to do from the moment he met me. He has officially declared he's not my father. He's had me written out of his life. Happy Holidays and all that."

Clint saw easily through the carefree tone of your voice. As much as you and your father didn't get along, you were heartbroken. Damn it, Rumlow.

"What do you mean he's written you out of his life?" Nick asked. The dark tone to his voice had Clint hoping he never pissed the man off to that extent.

"I'm not his daughter anymore, okay? No money, no home, no nothing. Not even when he dies. He said we could discuss it when I come to my senses and do what he wants." Clint rubbed his hand down your arm and you pressed closer to his side.

There was a stretch of silence while they all digested what had just happened to their friend. At least that's what Clint assumed until Nick Fury leaned his head back in laughter.

Maria smacked his arm with the back of her hand and hissed his name. "What are you doing?"

The man struggled to get himself under control and wiped a tear from his eye. Clint glanced down to find you smiling in amusement at Nick. Well, that was something, at least.

"Sorry," he said and pulled himself together. "Not to put too fine a spin on it, Rumlow just fucked himself and it is a beautiful thing."

"So, are we kicking his ass or what?" Tony asked as he looked around the group.

"Oh, we are, but he's not even going to see it coming," Nick assured with a sinister grin.

You shivered against him and glanced up. "That's his evil smile. He has a plan."

The group found a table in the corner and settled in as Nick explained his contract with Rumlow's company rested contingent on you taking over for him, either before or after death. As Rumlow had disowned you and written you out of the will, that was no longer a possibility. When Fury backed out of his contract come Monday, it would cost Rumlow's company millions. It was a blow to the part of his anatomy Rumlow treasured the most, his wallet. You thought it was brilliant, but Clint still wanted to beat the shit out of him. A couple of discreet inquiries later, he'd discovered that Rumlow left as soon as he finished his conversation with you. Coward.

It wasn't much later when Natasha and Bucky joined them. Natasha greeted you with a hug and Clint arched a brow. He had no idea the two of you were that close and the knowledge had him shifting his weight in his chair uneasily. You glanced at him with a soft smile. "You okay, handsome?"

He forced a smile. "Of course."

You looked at him a moment longer before nodding your head once and turning back to the conversation. Clint spent the rest of the evening in quiet contemplation only occasionally contributing to the conversation.

At the end of the evening, Scott had barely shut the door behind the two of you after getting in the car before you turned to him, arms crossed. "Okay. What's up with you? You're broodier than normal."

He frowned. "I do not brood."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, you so do."

He grabbed you and shifted so you were leant against his side. "I'm still pissed about Rumlow." It was a half-truth but you seemed to buy it easily enough.

You nodded and settled more securely against him. "He's not worth it." There was a beat of silence then you laughed. "We have the best friends."

He rubbed his thumb along your arm and hummed. There it was again. That word. We. At some point the two of you had ceased being you and him and were now we. They. A couple. You were so tightly woven into his life, he feared if he tried to pull you out the whole thing would unravel.

When the car pulled up to your door, you turned and gave him a kiss. "I had a nice time tonight despite everything. Thank you."

He smiled in spite of himself. "It was my pleasure, beautiful." Suddenly remembering the email he had received earlier, he grabbed your hand to stop you as you went to slide out of the car. "What are you doing Tuesday night?"

"I finally managed to get some time in the photo lab since people are on break. Do I need to move it?" His gaze ran over your face and he knew you'd change everything in a second to please him. Was that because you wanted to or because it was in the contract? He'd never worried about this shit before.

Finally, he shook his head. "Nope. I was just going to take you to dinner. Nothing important. We'll go another night."

"You sure?"

When he nodded you leaned in to give him another kiss. Another moment and you were out of the car and in your building. His eyes followed you until he could no longer see you through the glass then he shifted his attention to your window. By now Scott knew not to leave until your light went on and you waved down at them.

The car was already pulling out of the parking lot by the time you made it to the window.

***

Tuesday evening you grabbed your computer and the memory card from your camera before heading to the photo lab. You had a rare uninterrupted block of time to use their equipment and intended to take full advantage. You'd been so busy you hadn't even had the time to look at the photos you'd taken, but you knew there were some of you and Clint that would be perfect for your show. Provided they were cropped correctly, of course.

As you sat up in the room, you slid the memory card into your laptop and tapped the table while you waited for the images to transfer. Your brows lifted as you saw the sheer number of photos on the card. You certainly didn't remember taking that many. Bouncing in your seat you started to scroll through the images the moment they were all on your computer. The photos of the two of you had you smiling until you arrived at the paint fight. By then you were laughing.

The laughter trailed off as you scrolled down. Oh. Oh my. Well, you certainly hadn't expected that this evening. Your face heated at some of the more explicit images captured by the camera. But then the artist kicked in and you started focusing on sections of photos that could be used by themselves or in projects. You grinned and started to mark photos to work with. This was going to be brilliant.

***

Clint finished his speech and thanked the gathered crowd once more before stepping from the stage. The dinner tonight was being given in his honor for his charitable contributions and advancements made with prosthetics for amputees to live a more active lifestyle. He'd honestly forgotten about it until the reminder email he'd received the week before.

Natasha met him as he left the stage and directed him toward their table. Clint had arrived just in time to give his speech and had no idea where he was sitting. Bucky sat beside three empty chairs, his own prosthetic on display proudly. Clint grinned and nodded a greeting as he took his seat. "Where's your lovely lady this evening?" Bucky asked leaning toward him.

Clint shook his head. "She's getting ready for her show."

Nat frowned. "I'm surprised she didn't make it a point to be here. That doesn't seem like her."

He cleared his throat. "I didn't tell her. She didn't need to rearrange things to be here. What she's doing is more important than me getting another award."

"I'm not sure she'd see it that way," Natasha muttered and he shot her a look. She held up her hands. "I'm done. You should eat."

She spared him any more discussion as they finished their meals. Once people started moving around the room to get drinks and mingle, she spoke again. "I just don't see why you care."

He rested an elbow on the back of his chair as he turned to face her with an arched brow. "I'm sorry?"

She shrugged. "I don't see why you care if she has to rearrange her schedule. I mean that's what she's there for, right? To go to things like this with you?"

Irritation crawled up his spine. "I'm not a heartless bastard, Nat. And I'm hardly insecure enough to fear attending an event on my own."

"Nice award, Barton," came a voice from behind him before Nat could respond.

Clint turned to Tony with a smile and shook his hand. "Thank you, Stark. Just trying to live up to your high expectations of me."

Tony waved his hand through the air. "Impossible." He looked around. "Where's your better half tonight?"

"Not here." Clint's tone was clipped. He was irrationally angry with Tony for the inquiry. It had to be Natasha's prodding getting under his skin.

Tony dropped a hand onto his shoulder. "Dear god, you didn't break up with her, did you?"

Clint scowled, his brow furrowing. "She's working."

"Besides, don't you think she's more likely to break up with him?" Bucky asked.

Natasha nodded and hummed thoughtfully.

Tony laughed. "Oh, not that one. She's smitten with him. It's written all over her any time they're together. I'd say the feeling is mutual but Barton doesn't do love."

Clint shoved his friend's hand from his shoulder and got to his feet. "I need a drink."

He ignored Tony's insistence it was only a joke and made his way to the bar. A two-minute walk, took fifteen by the time he finished shaking hands and extricating himself from conversations he didn't wish to have. Someone leaned on the bar beside him while he waited for his drink. Not wanting to exchange anymore inane conversation, Clint didn't glance over.

"Barton," came the familiar deep voice.

Clint straightened and drained his drink quickly before slamming the empty glass onto the bar. He licked his lips and turned to face Rumlow. "What are you doing here?" he all but growled.

The other man shrugged. "I was invited."

"A mistake, I'm sure. Did you think you could get my girl alone to break her heart some more? That you could smack her around? Sorry, but she's not here."

Rumlow frowned. "Don't pretend you're any better than me. We both know you don't care for that girl any more than I do. We're using her in our own ways. She just cooperates better with you."

Later, Clint wished he hadn't gotten quite so angry. One moment fury spiked through him. The next Rumlow was on the floor and Clint's knuckles throbbed. Perhaps if he had been a little more clear headed, he would have remembered the incident better so he could relive it later. The room had gone silent and Clint cast a look around before striding out the door.

***

When he arrived at your apartment, you weren't home yet. Honestly, he hadn't expected you to be and didn't know why he was even there. He let himself in with his key. He needed a drink and some time in the quiet to clear his head would be good for both of you. Sliding out of his jacket, he tossed it on the back of the couch. He poured a large glass from the bottle you kept around for him before grabbing an ice pack from the fridge.

After numbing his knuckles a bit, he threw the pack back in the freezer and snatched his glass from the counter. He sat on the sofa only to get quickly back to his feet. He was too keyed up to sit still. Instead, he started to roam through the apartment. A light in the hall caught his eye and he moved toward the open door of your studio.

He shouldn't look. Even the thought had his gut churning, but he couldn't seem to step away. Somehow he was convinced all the answers he needed were behind that door. He took a breath and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

His eyes went wide as he moved to the center of the room. He'd never seen your studio in such a state. Half-finished pieces mixed with completed works, photos and sketches hung on every wall. Black and white. Charcoal. Pencil. Splashes of color to break up the monotony. And in every image, on every surface, he saw himself reflected.

Not his face. No, that would be too obvious and completely not your style. Instead, there were places you went. The curve of a shoulder. The hint of a smirk. And hands. His hands were everywhere. Cradling your face. Clutching your waist. Caressing your body. His chest tightened as he sucked in a breath and moved in a slow circle.

And when his gaze fell on the doorway, there you were. Hands twisted together, a sheen of tears in your eyes as you gave him that cockeyed smile. The one that said you wanted him to reassure you. To tell you everything was going to be okay. But he couldn't. Not about this. This was his ruin. He moved his gaze from you to one of the photos on the wall. Your lips touching his as the two of you laughed.

"You love me." His voice was little more than a whisper and he wished he didn't sound so devastated by the revelation, but he supposed there was no help for that.

"What?" Your voice broke and he clenched his free hand to keep from reaching for you.

"I knew. I realize that now. I tried to ignore it, but it's all right here in this room, isn't it?"

"Clint." The plea in your voice had him returning his eyes to you.

"Tell me I'm wrong." And there was a plea in his as well.

A tear fell down your cheek. "I can't."

Clint closed his eyes. Forced himself to swallow down the elation and the heartbreak. This...this was no good for either of you. He'd been fooling himself to think otherwise. He looked at you one last time before nodding once and walking past you. Ignoring the heartbreaking call of his name, he placed his glass on the counter. After grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch, he was gone.

The slam of the door echoed through the apartment and what was left of your heart.