Clint answered with another soft kiss on the top of her head and wrapped his arm very loosely around her, his hand resting on her hip, so she could sit up anytime she wanted to. Then he waited.
It worked. Slowly, but it worked. Her slowing breathes was the needed line for aligning his thoughts into a dull rhythm of numbers and paragraphs. He concentrated mostly on Italian, not only because he should perfect his skills if they stayed here longer than expected. It was less chaotic than fleeing in six different languages to desperately try drown his mind, like in the cellar before. This time he was much calmer, years and decades of learning how to focus helping the task, and he actually made it to keep his head completely blank.
He breathed with her for a while but then found it easier to keep a four second rhythm in time with his inner monologue. His muscles felt heavy, not like something in his back would tear any moment anymore. He was still.
What wouldn't come though, was sleepiness. It was more that training zen he had tried to achieve without success earlier. He could have made a few really good shots right now.
Fortunately he had considered that possibility on the run to the bathroom. He waited until he could be pretty sure, Natasha was out, then he peeled the pills he had brought from their blister cards and swallowed them dry before burying the blister under pillow to throw away tomorrow. It wasn't exactly stuff he wanted her to see him taking. It wasn't stuff he particularly loved to take himself. But it had helped a lot in the past for not dreaming of Loki fucking his mind over every night. Or for not dreaming of all the creative way of killing Natasha planted in his head by this bastard. He would be waking up pretty dead, but nothing that two cans of coffee couldn't fix.
It turned out, the shit was even better on a nearly empty stomach. He counted hardly four or five more of Natasha's breath before he was gone.
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Date: 2014-06-15 07:22 pm (UTC)From:It worked. Slowly, but it worked. Her slowing breathes was the needed line for aligning his thoughts into a dull rhythm of numbers and paragraphs. He concentrated mostly on Italian, not only because he should perfect his skills if they stayed here longer than expected. It was less chaotic than fleeing in six different languages to desperately try drown his mind, like in the cellar before. This time he was much calmer, years and decades of learning how to focus helping the task, and he actually made it to keep his head completely blank.
He breathed with her for a while but then found it easier to keep a four second rhythm in time with his inner monologue. His muscles felt heavy, not like something in his back would tear any moment anymore. He was still.
What wouldn't come though, was sleepiness. It was more that training zen he had tried to achieve without success earlier. He could have made a few really good shots right now.
Fortunately he had considered that possibility on the run to the bathroom. He waited until he could be pretty sure, Natasha was out, then he peeled the pills he had brought from their blister cards and swallowed them dry before burying the blister under pillow to throw away tomorrow. It wasn't exactly stuff he wanted her to see him taking. It wasn't stuff he particularly loved to take himself. But it had helped a lot in the past for not dreaming of Loki fucking his mind over every night. Or for not dreaming of all the creative way of killing Natasha planted in his head by this bastard. He would be waking up pretty dead, but nothing that two cans of coffee couldn't fix.
It turned out, the shit was even better on a nearly empty stomach. He counted hardly four or five more of Natasha's breath before he was gone.