Natasha leaned back a little and examined the scar under his fingertips. She remembered that scar, of course; she also remembered being livid when she returned from her own mission to find Clint had been injured. She hadn’t been given many details, and while the thought of hacking into the mission files had come to mind she had pushed it off. If he wanted her to know he would tell her.
She hadn’t considered that it wasn’t that easy.
Holding him close against her she offered what comfort she could with her embrace. She knew better than anyone what it was to have memories so close yet just out of reach. There were things from her past she didn’t remember, memories that had been taken from her, others that had been implanted to take their place. There were times she wasn’t sure if any of her childhood was real, but she had gotten past it all enough that most nights the dreams didn’t keep her up. Most nights.
“One of my many talents,” she said, kissing his neck, then his shoulder before resting her chin there. “And my door is always open for you.” She wanted to listen to him, wanted him to open up to her, and it meant more than she could say that he did without her pressing him. “Do you think you can get back to sleep?” She didn’t even know what time it was, but considering how early they had gone to bed last night she predicted an early morning anyhow. Maybe, if her stomach cooperated, they could get a walk in before it got too hot. Or they could go and claim their spot on the beach, maybe try to find an umbrella somewhere to sit under for a break from the sun.
no subject
She hadn’t considered that it wasn’t that easy.
Holding him close against her she offered what comfort she could with her embrace. She knew better than anyone what it was to have memories so close yet just out of reach. There were things from her past she didn’t remember, memories that had been taken from her, others that had been implanted to take their place. There were times she wasn’t sure if any of her childhood was real, but she had gotten past it all enough that most nights the dreams didn’t keep her up. Most nights.
“One of my many talents,” she said, kissing his neck, then his shoulder before resting her chin there. “And my door is always open for you.” She wanted to listen to him, wanted him to open up to her, and it meant more than she could say that he did without her pressing him. “Do you think you can get back to sleep?” She didn’t even know what time it was, but considering how early they had gone to bed last night she predicted an early morning anyhow. Maybe, if her stomach cooperated, they could get a walk in before it got too hot. Or they could go and claim their spot on the beach, maybe try to find an umbrella somewhere to sit under for a break from the sun.