His voice was too harsh, too rough when he stopped her, and he hugged her closer apologetically for a moment, but he couldn't help it. He could hardly sort out what was going on in his own head, leave alone strive for control and sensitivity as much as usual.
"We both couldn't know."
And it wasn't just her. He had been through more torture sessions in his life than he cared to remember, and there were certain body parts, especially female torturers went for gleefully every single fucking time. He wasn't infertile by any means. But he had spoken to enough doctors after waking up with a feeling like someone had sat his whole lower body on fire, to long dismiss the idea of getting his cords cut, like he had thought about it some years ago. With both their compromised ability to reproduce combined, there had been simply no need for that anymore.
In short, they had beaten the chances of the lottery, and if that wasn't a scary thought, he had never had one.
No use pondering about that now. He could make his appointment to finally take care of that problem after Natasha had been through the emotional disaster that was upon her, upon both of them. He had only one job to do right now, and that was keeping help her through everything. While locking away whatever was waiting under that thickening layer of ice inside completely. This wasn't about him.
Her answer, at least, was half of a relief. No legal bullshit then, and they even had a few weeks left to prepare for everything, whether here or at home, whatever she preferred. It wasn't like they could just go on and enjoy their holiday anymore anyway. One step after the other, and every of them centered around her and her well-being. He couldn't allow himself to get too emotionally involved in this, not even a second.
He didn't want to get up, let go off her for even a second, but he was damn well aware that she had less than nothing in her stomach, and that wasn't exactly a good basis for crucial decisions.
"Back in a second."
He pressed a short kiss to her temple, hoping that the touch wouldn't feel half as cold and numb to her as it did to him, with his skin still crawling, freezing with shock, and quickly went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, a few grapes and an apple. The plate clattered too loud, too shrill against the counter, betraying his trembling hands, and when he cut the apple in four halves, he earned himself another cut. There was no pain, no noise from his lips, just an unnerved rolling of his eyes.
Get your fucking shit together, Barton.
He sucked on his forefinger absent-minded when he returned and placed the plate on the table, without another of these nerve-wrecking noises this time, and sat back down with Natasha. The break hadn't done anything to straighten his thoughts, but he hadn't really expected it. It wasn't like he could plan much right now, anyway. It was her decision, whatever was to happen next.
He just nodded at the plate and the bottle shortly, not wanting to push her and tried to think of his next words, again without much success. He couldn't just let her do all the talking, and whatever they were bringing up in this conversation now... It was inevitable it would hurt, for any of them. The least he could do was not drag this out with uncomfortable silence.
"How do we do this, Nat? I mean... You... Your body can't have it, right?"
He didn't expect any answer but a confirmation, not after what he knew about her file, about her past. Maybe he just still didn't want to allow himself thinking of another option. It was too fucking terrifying.
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Date: 2014-06-09 10:10 am (UTC)From:His voice was too harsh, too rough when he stopped her, and he hugged her closer apologetically for a moment, but he couldn't help it. He could hardly sort out what was going on in his own head, leave alone strive for control and sensitivity as much as usual.
"We both couldn't know."
And it wasn't just her. He had been through more torture sessions in his life than he cared to remember, and there were certain body parts, especially female torturers went for gleefully every single fucking time. He wasn't infertile by any means. But he had spoken to enough doctors after waking up with a feeling like someone had sat his whole lower body on fire, to long dismiss the idea of getting his cords cut, like he had thought about it some years ago. With both their compromised ability to reproduce combined, there had been simply no need for that anymore.
In short, they had beaten the chances of the lottery, and if that wasn't a scary thought, he had never had one.
No use pondering about that now. He could make his appointment to finally take care of that problem after Natasha had been through the emotional disaster that was upon her, upon both of them. He had only one job to do right now, and that was keeping help her through everything. While locking away whatever was waiting under that thickening layer of ice inside completely. This wasn't about him.
Her answer, at least, was half of a relief. No legal bullshit then, and they even had a few weeks left to prepare for everything, whether here or at home, whatever she preferred. It wasn't like they could just go on and enjoy their holiday anymore anyway. One step after the other, and every of them centered around her and her well-being. He couldn't allow himself to get too emotionally involved in this, not even a second.
He didn't want to get up, let go off her for even a second, but he was damn well aware that she had less than nothing in her stomach, and that wasn't exactly a good basis for crucial decisions.
"Back in a second."
He pressed a short kiss to her temple, hoping that the touch wouldn't feel half as cold and numb to her as it did to him, with his skin still crawling, freezing with shock, and quickly went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, a few grapes and an apple. The plate clattered too loud, too shrill against the counter, betraying his trembling hands, and when he cut the apple in four halves, he earned himself another cut. There was no pain, no noise from his lips, just an unnerved rolling of his eyes.
Get your fucking shit together, Barton.
He sucked on his forefinger absent-minded when he returned and placed the plate on the table, without another of these nerve-wrecking noises this time, and sat back down with Natasha. The break hadn't done anything to straighten his thoughts, but he hadn't really expected it. It wasn't like he could plan much right now, anyway. It was her decision, whatever was to happen next.
He just nodded at the plate and the bottle shortly, not wanting to push her and tried to think of his next words, again without much success. He couldn't just let her do all the talking, and whatever they were bringing up in this conversation now... It was inevitable it would hurt, for any of them. The least he could do was not drag this out with uncomfortable silence.
"How do we do this, Nat? I mean... You... Your body can't have it, right?"
He didn't expect any answer but a confirmation, not after what he knew about her file, about her past. Maybe he just still didn't want to allow himself thinking of another option. It was too fucking terrifying.