It had taken Natasha a long time to accept that Clint loved her, that anyone could truly love her with they knew of her past, of the scars on her soul that would never fully heal. Clint knew them, though; not all of them, nobody knew them all, not even Natasha herself, but he knew enough to know her so when he said he loved her she knew he meant it.
It had taken her even longer to realise that she loved him back, that this feeling of complete and utter trust and security and affection that she felt for this man was love. She wasn’t a complete stranger to love, there had been others in her past but she had been barely more than a child then and after the pain it had caused her she had written love off as a childish notion, one she would never let herself feel again. Then Clint had come along and slowly but surely he had changed her mind.
She didn’t say it, at least not with words, because by the time she had realised that what she felt was love, she had also realised that there just weren’t words strong enough to truly express the depths of her feelings. So she told him with her smile, the look in her eyes, the press of her body to his. He reassured her that he didn’t need to hear it with a simple kiss on her forehead, but she promised herself that someday she would tell him because he deserved to hear it.
Moving in closer she settled her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, just relishing in the moment and ignoring all else, even the first few drops of rain as they struck her face.
Not a moment later the music stopped as the musician scrambled to gather up the money and stuff it all into his pockets before safely stowing his guitar away again and making off quickly for shelter.
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It had taken her even longer to realise that she loved him back, that this feeling of complete and utter trust and security and affection that she felt for this man was love. She wasn’t a complete stranger to love, there had been others in her past but she had been barely more than a child then and after the pain it had caused her she had written love off as a childish notion, one she would never let herself feel again. Then Clint had come along and slowly but surely he had changed her mind.
She didn’t say it, at least not with words, because by the time she had realised that what she felt was love, she had also realised that there just weren’t words strong enough to truly express the depths of her feelings. So she told him with her smile, the look in her eyes, the press of her body to his. He reassured her that he didn’t need to hear it with a simple kiss on her forehead, but she promised herself that someday she would tell him because he deserved to hear it.
Moving in closer she settled her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, just relishing in the moment and ignoring all else, even the first few drops of rain as they struck her face.
Not a moment later the music stopped as the musician scrambled to gather up the money and stuff it all into his pockets before safely stowing his guitar away again and making off quickly for shelter.