"It's you who helped me become stronger, you know."
Clint's thumb grazed her lips, capturing that smile he needed more than anything right now. Only his knuckles, where his skin wasn't as rough as on the inside of his hand, gently brushed her cheek.
When she laid with him like that, without her uniform, her weapons, tiredness instead of tension coloring her movements, sometimes he forgot how deadly she really. One could fall for that tender vulnerability, nearly afraid to touch her, not wanting to disturb that perfectly illusionary picture.
It was an illusion that Natasha had beaten out of him pretty much at their first meeting already. In the course of the years she had always been a kind of idol, if he had ever had one. He had needed to be on her level to become the partner she wanted - often needed - by her side. And only too often, after especially bad missions, he had somehow made it to orientate himself on that never ending motivation of hers. The wish to make it better, to help and come out of it a better person at the end.
Clint wasn't sure, he would be still here now if it hadn't been for her. Maybe he needed to trust her firm belief and stubbornness once more, when she told him, he would be alright.
The desire to kiss her was suddenly overwhelming strong, so he quickly lowered his head, lifting her chin enough to cover her lips, let their softness chase away the last of frightening pictures behind his closed eyes. His arm around her waist gently pulled her closer, the need to feel her pressed tightly against him growing. Maybe he was a little addicted to her touch, alright. There definitely was worse to endure.
no subject
Clint's thumb grazed her lips, capturing that smile he needed more than anything right now. Only his knuckles, where his skin wasn't as rough as on the inside of his hand, gently brushed her cheek.
When she laid with him like that, without her uniform, her weapons, tiredness instead of tension coloring her movements, sometimes he forgot how deadly she really. One could fall for that tender vulnerability, nearly afraid to touch her, not wanting to disturb that perfectly illusionary picture.
It was an illusion that Natasha had beaten out of him pretty much at their first meeting already. In the course of the years she had always been a kind of idol, if he had ever had one. He had needed to be on her level to become the partner she wanted - often needed - by her side.
And only too often, after especially bad missions, he had somehow made it to orientate himself on that never ending motivation of hers. The wish to make it better, to help and come out of it a better person at the end.
Clint wasn't sure, he would be still here now if it hadn't been for her. Maybe he needed to trust her firm belief and stubbornness once more, when she told him, he would be alright.
The desire to kiss her was suddenly overwhelming strong, so he quickly lowered his head, lifting her chin enough to cover her lips, let their softness chase away the last of frightening pictures behind his closed eyes. His arm around her waist gently pulled her closer, the need to feel her pressed tightly against him growing. Maybe he was a little addicted to her touch, alright. There definitely was worse to endure.