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All throughout her life, Natasha Romanoff has never felt as though she fitted in, she has always been an outsider, even among the ones that she has trusted most. She’s never really understood the human mind’s fascination with sex, to her, it’s just another way of getting what she wants. The Red Room taught her that when sex= love, sex also equals vulnerability. Weakness. It’s something to be avoided at all costs. Sex is simply a weapon to gain what she wants.
Even around the ones she trusts, she has never really loved anyone, sure she’s had flings with a few of them, but there has never been sexual attraction involved. She told herself that it was just leftover brainwashing from the Red Room; she can feel attracted to someone, she’s not broken. Not yet anyway. She won't let them ruin her anymore.
When working as an assassin, she used to have to use sex to get information, or to get her marks into a vulnerable state. It was easier to kill that way. Quicker. Less mess to clean up after. Although it got the work done, it left her feeling dirty, tainted by the touch of a man she never knew, tainted by the touch of a man who was now dead. It made her want to scream and cry even thinking about it. Those missions were the worst. When arriving back at her safe house, she used to spend hours washing herself, cleaning away the invisible fingerprints left behind that made her skin feel grotty and disgusting.
After joining S.H.I.E.L.D, she could get away without any form of physical contact for weeks at a time, and she didn’t have to kill people, not in the same way at least. Her missions were cleaner, she didn’t start feeling dirty and she didn’t leave feeling dirty. It was a blessing in disguse.
When she sees all of the other agents discussing their romantic life, she has to remind herself to stay calm. She sees the way they look at her, like she is a monster. Like she is the odd one out. Is she a monster? She’s not like them, she never has been. For as long as she can remember she has never been like that. What if she isn’t the monster, what if it’s them? The ones who want love and sex and ultimately weakness as a part of their daily life. She respects them though, respects their choices. It’s not up to her what they do or don’t do with their life. It’s just not to her taste.
When she joins the avengers, it’s a whole different story. Constantly surrounded by noise and chatter and people and physical touches and talk of sex and love and everything she hates, but is fascinated endlessly by. They seem to spend all their time talking about sex (well Stark does anyway), it makes her uncomfortable. How do they feel the attraction for sex? She thought that they would be more like her, too broken from her years of service to even consider a relationship. But they are the exact opposite. She’s good at hiding it though, and it’s not as if she’s ever going to get close enough for anyone to see how it makes her feel. Apart from Clint.
She likes Clint, his snark and sass and way of making her feel human, not like a monster, is something she has never found before, and probably could will find again. And it’s not as if he’s not bad looking, but as much as she wants to like him, to prove she isn’t a monster, she can’t. And it hurts so much more every day.
There are rumours flying through base that her and Clint are an item and it grosses her out. It makes her skin crawl just thinking about it. And it makes her want to cry and scream and just tell someone how she feels but she was conditioned long ago to not trust anyone. It doesn’t stop it hurting though.
So how on earth does she find herself with Clint after their last mission talking about it?
They’re sat around the bar in the avenger’s tower nursing drinks at some early hour of the morning. As far as they know, they’re the only ones awake in the tower. She downs a shot, and Clint follows suit. They’re both covered in muck and dust and grime from an explosion and blood, a mixture of theirs and their enemies, but neither of them are badly injured, so medical can wait until the morning.
They’re talking and laughing, it feels almost natural, as if she has done this a thousand times before. Until the talking stops and they’re both looking at each other, and she is suddenly conscious of how close they are, and that Clint’s head is actually getting closer to her slowly. Suddenly she’s finding it hard to breath and her heart is beating loudly in her chest, is he going to kiss her?
Their lips meet for a split second until she’s backing away and turning her head away as she stands up and says she is going to her room, then Clint grabs her arm gently and asks her what’s wrong, his face showing only the slightest sighs of upset. As he looks at her, eyes wide and caring, she realises that she owes him an explanation, or at least an apology, so she sits down again, head bowed and hands wiping tears away from her eyes at the thought of what she is about to do, tell someone her biggest secret. The emotional baggage she kept close to her heart is about to be released into the world.
She hears a faint voice, whispering in her mind, it takes her a moment to place the voice as her trainer at the Red Room, don’t show weakness. She pushes it down and swallows her anxiety before talking.
“Love is for children.” She mutters, her voice stuttering on the last word, “I can’t love people, not like that.” Clint looks at her confused, before looking away.
“What do you mean?” he asks her. It takes her a moment to reply, as she thinks of a way to convey her feelings.
“The Red Room. They broke me. Made it so I can’t love anyone, not sexually at least.” She answers finally. There a second of silence before he replies again.
“Maybe you’re not broken, maybe it’s just the way you are.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “Have you ever heard of the term asexual?” he asks. She thinks for a second about what he means. Before asking him, he tells her that it is where you feel little or no sexual attraction, before describing aromantic as the lack of romantic attraction, and that yes romantic and sexual attraction are different things. She feels lighter somehow, like a weight has been lifted from her.
She looks at him while she thinks, a small patch of his hair is stuck to his head with dried blood and she resists the urge to move it.
“Asexual” she says loudly, testing the way the word feels in her mouth.
“Asexual” she repeats, quieter this time, lost in though. She’s not broken. Not a monster. She’s asexual. It fits nicely. She likes the way it sounds. Suddenly spurred on, she says goodnight to Clint before racing upstairs to her floor, she showers quickly, or at least as quick as she can to remove all the dirt from her and then settles on her bed, the laptop resting on her knees.
She spends the rest of the night researching until Jarvis interrupts her to tell her the others have asked if she is joining them for breakfast, she closes her laptop, happy with her research, and heads downstairs, ignoring the pull of exhaustion that threatens to close her eyes. When she enters the kitchen, she heads immediately for the coffee pot, next to Bruce, and pours herself some. As she drinks, she catches Clint’s eye and smiles at him, he smiles back and they hold eye contact for a few seconds before Steve walks between them to the toaster and disrupts the contact.
After breakfast, she talks to him, and tells him what she learnt, how she researched what it was, what it meant, what it felt like. She tells him how he helped her solve a secret she has kept for years, as well as educating her on multiple other orientations. She tells him about how for so long she has felt broken, different, wrong because of this.
As an afterthought, she asks him about how he knew what asexuality was, he tells her that he’s known for years, since he found out he wasn't straight before he joined S.H.I.E.L.D, pansexual is the term he uses, Natasha doesn't quite understand what it means but she tries out the word anyway. She thinks it suits him.
The two of them sit in a comfortable silence, sipping coffee, and really? Neither of them would have it any other way.