[She pauses for a good long while. Long enough that anyone else probably would have said something else to her, tried to restate their point, gotten mad at her for ignoring them...]
[They're alone. She knows they're alone because he's in her personal space. She skims her hand up his side, barely touching him, probably not even detectable through the layers of clothing. And then she puts the tiniest bit of pressure on his collarbone, right over the nasty break, long since healed over.]
[And there's so much said in those two little words, so much more than what she'll admit to. So it's a good thing that he already knows. He has his faith that he can keep things together. The only faith she's ever had is that things fall apart. That's been her constant.
[Yeah, manic Clint. That's troubling. Maybe not manic for a normal person, but he doesn't do riled up. Even when things are intense and precarious, they keep it together. Their celebrations are private smiles and the occasional shared bottle of vodka in darkened compounds.
He's going to break. And if she's not there, he's going to be all alone when it happens. or worse, Loki will be there to try his hand at taking Clint over again, the only thing about his ill-advised plan that had worked.]
Yeah. Especially bad things.
[She sighs and, since he's still in her personal space and they're still alone, she leans her forehead against his shoulder.]
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I don't want to do that again.
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You don't have to.
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This won't end well.
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[And there's so much said in those two little words, so much more than what she'll admit to. So it's a good thing that he already knows. He has his faith that he can keep things together. The only faith she's ever had is that things fall apart. That's been her constant.
And she hides it with a wry little smile.]
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He's going to break. And if she's not there, he's going to be all alone when it happens. or worse, Loki will be there to try his hand at taking Clint over again, the only thing about his ill-advised plan that had worked.]
Yeah. Especially bad things.
[She sighs and, since he's still in her personal space and they're still alone, she leans her forehead against his shoulder.]
I don't like boats.