There had been a time when Clint would have called Natasha the least optimistic person on the planet. Especially in the first years after he had brought her in. He remembered just too well how often he had grown tired, exhausted, felt dragged down himself by all these anger and hate inside. The self loathing, the violence, this mistrust. How long it had taken him to carefully, gently make her turn just a little, away from the darkness, to all the beauty in the world she had never been taught to see. It had been a fight that he more than once had thought to lose.
Yet they were still standing here now, together, with him in pieces on the floor this time, and everytime he thought, there was no way, he could put himself together again... Sometimes it really took just a small smile, another light hearted idea to distract him. And her obvious determination to not let him dwell in what threatened to eat his soul up.
It hurt, seeing in her eyes the same fear, the same uncertainty that he had been through back then. That all these attempts would be for nothing and that the other one would be lost on the way anyway. If there was no other reason to get his shit together and find his way out of this bullshit, maybe he should just keep on remembering this expression.
Turning away from the runways, he softly pulled her in his arms and rested his chin on her shoulder with half-closed eyes, ignoring the curious stares and amused smiles around them. He let the cold wind wash over him, through him, allowed the tremble going through his body. Trying to let it clear his mind with Natasha's comforting warmth so close telling him, it was okay. That he could fall, let go off everything. That there would still be much waiting for him. Like the beloved smell of her hair or the everlasting concern for him of hers.
"Not going anywhere", he murmured into her ear, allowing the quiver in his voice that she would know of anyway. "Just... give me a little time."
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There had been a time when Clint would have called Natasha the least optimistic person on the planet. Especially in the first years after he had brought her in. He remembered just too well how often he had grown tired, exhausted, felt dragged down himself by all these anger and hate inside. The self loathing, the violence, this mistrust. How long it had taken him to carefully, gently make her turn just a little, away from the darkness, to all the beauty in the world she had never been taught to see. It had been a fight that he more than once had thought to lose.
Yet they were still standing here now, together, with him in pieces on the floor this time, and everytime he thought, there was no way, he could put himself together again... Sometimes it really took just a small smile, another light hearted idea to distract him. And her obvious determination to not let him dwell in what threatened to eat his soul up.
It hurt, seeing in her eyes the same fear, the same uncertainty that he had been through back then. That all these attempts would be for nothing and that the other one would be lost on the way anyway. If there was no other reason to get his shit together and find his way out of this bullshit, maybe he should just keep on remembering this expression.
Turning away from the runways, he softly pulled her in his arms and rested his chin on her shoulder with half-closed eyes, ignoring the curious stares and amused smiles around them. He let the cold wind wash over him, through him, allowed the tremble going through his body. Trying to let it clear his mind with Natasha's comforting warmth so close telling him, it was okay. That he could fall, let go off everything. That there would still be much waiting for him. Like the beloved smell of her hair or the everlasting concern for him of hers.
"Not going anywhere", he murmured into her ear, allowing the quiver in his voice that she would know of anyway. "Just... give me a little time."