She did want to tell Clint. She really did. Natasha just didn't know how.

In the two months that they had known each other now, he had always been the one to start conversations. Natasha's response to them had grown over that time, from blank stares, to glares, to nods, to occasional one word responses, and finally to questions of her own, but she didn't know how to do this.

Coulson seemed to at least want to help her do it, she thought, looking at her new quarters. Far from luxurious, but a nice step up from her cell. This one had a real bed, and a window, even if the glass was bulletproof. There was also a bar fridge, a small kitchen, and a TV.

"How great is this?!" Clint exclaimed, looking at it all. He checked the fridge. "Oh, man, you've got doctor pepper!"

"What's that?" Natasha deadpanned.

Clint glared. "I'm not falling for that again." He muttered, and Natasha tried not to grin.

Swiping one can of the drink, Clint continued his exploration of her quarters. He seemed much more excited about this than Natasha was, though she had just grown two new limbs, so a new room didn't seem like much by comparison.

She was caught up looking at the view from the window when she heard Clint call from the other room, "How do you have a better bathroom than me?!"

Natasha smiled, safe in the knowledge that he couldn't see her right now. "I'm a valued guest."

"Oh fuck you Nat." That was the second time Clint had used the nickname now, and he was still waiting for her to comment. Confirm that it was okay. He'd keep using it until then at least. He liked it.

Natasha lay down on the couch, getting used to the feeling to small wings pressed against her back. It wasn't too bad, just unusual. It was nice to note that, even in the thirty or so hours since they had sprouted, her wings were gradually getting bigger. Like they had been waiting to burst out.

Clint came back, stolen drink hand. He smiled when he saw her sprawled out on the couch, that smile that made his eyes crinkle. "Comfy?"

Natasha shrugged nonchalantly. "It'll do."

Clint chuckled. "Better than the basement."

"I don't know." She said stoically. "At least down there I didn't have to deal with you next door."

Clint put one hand over his heart in mock offence, and Natasha barely pulled her legs away before he sat on them. "I'm hurt, Nat, hurt."

She rolled her eyes, sitting up and snagging her drink back. "You keep calling me that."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to stop?"

Natasha paused, then shook her head. "I'm just not used to it."

"Then I guess I should do it more, so you get used to it." Clint grinned, and snatched the can from her. He shook it, aghast. "Empty? Nat, how could you?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's mydrink,придурок."

"You're a bread duck!" He said petulantly, and Natasha stifled a laugh.

"Придурок." She corrected.

"Pyramid rug."

"Clint."

"Pride rock."

That one made her laugh fully, despite her best efforts. Natasha smiled, teeth gleaming. "Just... stop."

Clint beamed, like making her laugh was his intention all along. It probably was, come to think of it. "Only cos you asked nicely." He said sappily, mussing up her hair with one wing.

When Natasha batted him away, Clint went to wrap his wings around her shoulders, as he had done a few times before. So he was surprised when Natasha squirmed away.

Clint immediately withdrew his wing, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing." Natasha said, not looking at all on edge, actually, which was something of a relief.

Clint bit his lip. "Nat, if I'm ever doing something that makes you... uncomfortable, or anything, just say and I'll stop okay? You don't have to let me run things, I'm not your boss, or your mark. I'm your friend."

He expected the tiny grin on her face. Natasha was new to this, that was clear as day. But the way Clint felt his wings flexing bigger and bigger every day told him that she wasn't that opposed to it.

"It's not that." She said softly. If anything she looked... excited.

It was infectious. "What is it then? Did you sprout a pair of little pink wings?" He said it teasingly, but something on Natasha's face told him that he'd hit the nail on the head. "Wait, really?"

Natasha shrugged, still grinning.

"Crap, I-I mean, not that there's anything wrong with pink, it'll clash like fuck with your hair, but it's a nice colour and-"

"They're not pink."

"Oh thank God." He sighed. "Wait, what colour are they then? Show me!"

Natasha's shoulders curled in defensively. She hadn't shown them to anyone yet. She hadn't even seen them herself due to their size.

"Come on Nat, you've seen mine! Show meeeee, please? Pretty please?"

He was trying to make her laugh again, and it made that bubble of warmth in her stomach grow some more. "You just want me to take my shirt off."

Clint pulled a face. "Gross, who'd want to see that?" He teased, succeeding again in getting a laugh. "Besides, why do you think they invented sleeves? On your back?"

This would be one of the times she could tell him to stop, and Natasha knew he would. She didn't want to though. Someone had to see them first, and she wanted it to be Clint. She hummed a little in thought, the mood changing to one of quiet bonding. "Okay." She murmured, turning a little and trying to pull the oversized sleeves around the small limbs.

Natasha felt Clint's calloused fingers help, brushing her skin and making her shiver. "Nat." He breathed. "They're beautiful."

"And small."

"They match your eyes."

"Spend a lot of time staring into my eyes, do you hawkeye?" She teased, and Clint barked a laugh.

He let his fingers gently skim the soft feathers, then pulled the sleeves back over them. It didn't look like they'd be able to stay hidden for very long. "Do you still wanna know what makes them grow?"

Natasha ducked her head, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "It's okay." She mumbled. "Coulson told me yesterday." She swallowed her apprehension at admitting it, admitting that she knew that Clint... loved her, that others did to. It was nice. She liked this tangible reminder that these people actually cared for her.

"Oh." Natasha could practically hear the smile growing on his face in the silence that followed.

Clint paused, not sure if this was crossing a line. As always, it was best to ask. "Can I hug you?"

Natasha looked up, surprised, then smiled a little and nodded.

Clint grinned and pulled her into a crushing hug. He'd wanted to do this for a while now. He was glad to note that Natasha wasn't tense, wasn't scared or put off. After a moment she even returned the hug, her arms wrapping around his ribs and her head resting on his shoulder.

Natasha was, however, surprised, when she felt Clint's wings come around her as well, a soft shield. He'd done that once before, but it felt different now. She trembled at the touch, then gave in, sinking against him. This was actually really nice. The wings were made from love, and Clint had his wrapped around her. Holding her, protecting her.

Clint smiled at how she relaxed when his wings joined in on the hug. He sighed softly. "I'm really really glad I didn't shoot you."

Natasha snorted. "Way to ruin the moment."

"Aww, we're having a moment?"

"Fuck you." Natasha grinned, pulling away, but found Clint's wings inescapable.

"No, stay, we're having a moment!"

Natasha scowled, then smirked when an evil thought occurred to her. Her arms flung over his shoulders, fingers wiggling at the base of his wings.

Clint instantly burst out laughing, his wings retreating in defence against the unexpected attack. On reflex, he pushed Natasha's hands away and fell onto his back, a mess of feathers, cheeks flushed with laughter.

Natasha grinned down at him. She loved his smile, his laugh. She loved that this SHIELD assassin was ticklish. She loved how he had all the coordination of a baby bird leaping from the nest and plummeting to the ground. She loved his deep purple wings. She loved his hugs.

Even with them hidden behind his back, Natasha could see his wings expand that little bit, and the warmth in Clint's eyes confirmed it. She felt her own stretch and stifled a yelp, even though she was sure that Clint knew.

He smiled crookedly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "I'm really glad I didn't shoot you." Clint said again, softly, warmly, and Natasha couldn't help but smile back.

"Me too."