study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

Hearing her say, she was with him, still, should have been a relief. It was, as was her touch that Clint pressed against tiredly, feeling even too drained to lift his head right now. It was comfort but not the usual reassurance and maybe that was better. Natasha was right, she couldn't save him from this, and he shouldn't lean on her even more than he already had. She wasn't the one to go this long way through a poisoned fog, back into a life that shone such a little light at the end of the tunnel right now.

But she could be that light. That point to orientate himself on, that most precious thing he didn't want to go without. That was all he could ask of her right now and it was already a lot.

"I just wish I wouldn't have to put this on you", he finally said, with his head still buried against his arms, in a still rough but at least steady voice. "I wanted to be strong for you, to not pull you down with me. Guess I've only achieved the opposite."

Finally, after wiping his too rough, to sensitive feeling cheeks on his arms, he brought himself to look at her. It hurt, he couldn't remember ever feeling so vulnerable, so weak in front of her, but he needed her to see that he was serious, that all her words and efforts hadn't been for nothing.

"But I'm thankful you're there anyway. No running anymore, promise."

He should have promised her more, that he was better now, that everything she had said was right and had just made the needed change in him... But he never made promises he couldn't keep to Natasha. He wanted to believe her, because it all sounded so very logical and calming, but he knew his own stubborn head well enough to be sure, it would be take time for all this to really sink in. For the moment, trying was all he could give her.

Although he still wouldn’t look at her she thought she could feel him growing calmer under her touch, so she kept up the soothing motions, willing to give him all the time he needed to deal with everything she had just made him face.

Eventually he spoke, his voice still raw but stronger than before, and when he finally lifted his head to look at her she felt her heart ache for him. He was completely vulnerable, completely honest and open and the pain in his eyes was hard to stomach, but she offered a weak smile back, her hand moving down to brush his cheek.

“Isn’t that one of the advantages of this whole ‘relationship’ thing? Never having to go through anything alone?” she said. “I don’t want you to be strong for me. I just want you.”

She could forgive what he had said because she knew the darkness the words had come from; she hadn’t exactly been the most pleasant person to be around when he had first brought her in, but he had never given up on her and he had helped her every step of the way. He had believed in her, and that had meant more to her than anything else. “I believe in you, Clint. And I believe in us.”

She wanted to kiss him, but until she brushed her teeth she had to settle for pressing her forehead to his and stroking his cheek.

Her last sentences had him shiver again, only with emotion this time, and press his dry, rough lips to her palm, just resting there when she leaned over. Her touch soothed the last of panic away for the moment, which made just room for even more exhaustion. And he'd wake up with hell of sore muscles in his thighs tomorrow.

But he didn't move, not yet. He was too busy not losing it again, for more positive reasons this time. This... was maybe the most important thing she could have told him on this difficult evening.

"That's kind of new to me, you know", he whispered, with a voice that could really use a glass of water right now. "Usually things are of expected me, people expect me to function like I always did. Or they stopped expecting anything at all from me. It's nice... to have someone believe in you."

Somehow he managed a smile, a careful, still shy touch of her shoulder. It was hard to believe, they had been arguing that badly just a few minutes ago. And then again not at all. They had been through too much to be weathered so easily. And Natasha telling him that she wanted to continue that, that she wanted to be there for him, was all the reassurance he needed right now.

"Probably should take a shower myself", he murmured, just to say anything, because everything else was said for the moment.

Getting up turned out to be hell of a job that ended with him crashing on the tub edge, rubbing cramps out of his thighs.

"Remind me to have my next nervous breakdown on a soft underground."

She returned his smile, a little easier this time than the last, and this time she didn’t flinch from his touch. Clint had always tried so hard to prove himself, even before she had ever known him, but how often had anyone truly encouraged him? Not just that, but how many people had ever told him that it didn’t matter what he did that they would always care for him and believe in him?

“It is,” she agreed, because it was nice. More than nice. It was his belief in her that had made her the woman she was today. In the beginning she had thought that it was all for show, that she had to succeed for him to save face for bringing her in, but soon she realised that Clint was really that genuine, that he had really seen something in her worth saving, and he truly believed she could be better than she was, that she could do great things. That belief had made all the difference in the world, and it had made her want to not only do well, but to be the best.

When he tried to stand and stumbled instead, she reached out to catch him as best she could. “I guess I should have went to bed instead of the shower,” she said, the closest she could come to a joke after all the emotional turmoil they had just been through. When she continued, though, she was more serious. “Do you need help?” He had helped her wash her hair, and she would gladly do the same for him. “Completely innocent, just a shower.”

She was pretty sure neither of them were up for anything more right now.

"Let me give it a try."

While Clint didn't mind being helped by Natasha when he was really down with something, right now he needed to force this exhaustion out of his bones himself, at least enough to move right again. If he started that now... If he let himself be eaten up by what was dragging down his mind... Then the day wouldn't be far, when he wouldn't want to get up in the morning. He had no plans of getting to that point.

He got up slower this time, after he had pushed the worst of cramps out of his legs and wiggled his way out of his clothes, and rested on the sink for a moment until he could be sure, he wouldn't be falling on his silly ass again. The warm water of a quick shower helped, at least a little, and it would give Natasha a few minutes of her own to restore herself.

"Just gonna get an orange or something or my stomach will probably wake you up at midnight", he remarked with half a rueful grin when he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. "And then I'm pretty ready to crash, to be honest. Tomorrow, if you want, we can always...
Oh fuck, tell me, I'm dreaming."

Whatever he had just wanted to say, ended in an unbelieving, half amused, half horrified yelp when he opened the bathroom door and found something he definitely hadn't expected on the TV table.

All of the remaining fruit had been thoroughly licked or bitten into. A half full water glass had fallen and just dripped its lest remains into the carpet. The flowers that Angelina had left on the table had lost most of its blossoms. And in the middle of this whole mess sat a certain little black devil and meowed at him obviously completely satisfied.

Edited 2014-03-29 00:41 (UTC)

Natasha pushed herself up to her own slightly wobbly legs and wrapped her towel securely around herself before abandoning the shower for his use. She stayed close, just in case, but backed off once it was clear he was fit to stand on his own again. While he washed she busied herself with brushing her teeth, gargling some mouthwash, and tying her hair back in a loose braid, and by the time she was finished, only a few minutes later, so was he.

Of course it was still early, and they really should have been getting something for supper, but the very thought of food at the moment made her stomach churn again so she just smiled and nodded and let him go about getting food for himself. She was glad he was ready to turn in after that, though, as she was pretty ready to drop herself, but when he stopped mid sentence, cursing instead, she felt a cold hand grip her heart for a moment. She was almost scared to look around him to see what had garnered such a reaction, but when she did a surprised laugh burst out and she had to slap a hand over her mouth.

She had the distinct feeling that the kitten was intentionally pushing him.

Trying to hide her amusement, Natasha looked from the kitten to the mess it had made and then to the door, which still stood open. “You left the door open,” she pointed out, very helpfully.

When Natasha was actually laughing at the whole misery, Clint turned his head to her half amused, half offended and really pretty relieved- he sure hadn't expected her to laugh so soon after all this shit.

"Admit it, this is a conspiracy. You two are trying to overthrow me here."

He pointed a finger at her with a mock glare and tried to remember then where Angelina kept the whole housekeeping stuff. He wouldn't hurt the cat of course - he loved animals far too much for that - but he really was in no mood to deal with fleas tonight, so the broom would have to do to shoo the unwanted visitor outside.

Before he could even try, though, the little devil jumped down from the table and started strolling around Natasha's legs with a smug purr.

Clint could swear, that thing was grinning at him.

Natasha too was surprised to find herself laughing, but it was probably partially because of all the pain and tension they had just gone through that the laughter came on so easily. She needed it, and it felt good to let some of that stress drain out. Everything wasn’t so easily fixed; there was still lingering hurt and a hard road ahead, but they were okay for now, and that was all she could hope for.

“I am not the one who left the door open like an open invitation,” she pointed out. She realised just how distraught Clint really must have been when he came back inside to have done so, and her expression soften though she said nothing further on that matter. “It’s still open, by the way. You might want to get that before we end up with more visitors.”

Crouching down, she scratched the kitten on the top of the head, switching easily to Italian when she spoke to it. “You didn’t have any friends you wanted to share with?” she said quietly. The poor thing was really rather small, probably the runt of the litter and maybe an outcast because of it. “Smart kitty, keeping it all for yourself, but you better go now.”

"I can hardly argue with that", Clint admitted, still grumbling mostly at himself and already on the way to the door.

Half-way he thought better though and went to his dresser to put on some comfortable dark sweatpants and the shoes that had ended up in a careless pile there earlier. And while he was already on it, he could as well get that old, ragged blanket from the last drawer, something that no one used anymore anyway. Which made him roll his eyes even more at himself.

It was official, he was doomed. Well, he could use a short walk to get his muscles back working anyway.

"Back in a minute."

He really had no idea what got into him. Except for that soft, tender tone in Natasha's voice maybe, and that little light in her eyes when she talked to their furry visitor. Whatever it was, half a minute later - now with the door closed - he found himself behind the house under the same small roof eaves where he kept his scooter from occasional rain and greedy looks from outside.

In the corner between the bike and the house, there was an empty apple box stacked that he had meant to discard for probably 2 years or something. Nothing he needed, no hurt at all in creating a little nest with that blanket and the bowl of milk he had taken along from the front door. Not much left in there, but he could take care of that tomorrow, after the market. For today a certain little someone had definitely had enough food.

No effort at all, coming back here once or twice a day to leave something to eat, just a nice gesture to make Natasha happy, and from now on the front door would stay closed firmly, and...

And also he was a big sap and an idiot. Damnit, Barton.

After rolling his eyes for a last time, he leaned over to the tilted living room window and knocked to get Natasha's attention.

"Alright, red, get him out here. I've got a place for the night for him."

Natasha watched Clint curiously as he stopped on his way to closing the door, deciding to get dressed instead. Maybe that wasn’t so unusual, but the fact that he needed shoes and a blanket didn’t really fit in with a man who was shooing a cat outside and staying in the rest of the night.

When he went outside and closed the door behind him, she looked down at the kitten in confusion and received only a meow in answer.

“We should probably put you outside, and maybe tomorrow I can get you cleaned up. You’re cute, but you could use a bath,” she said, scooping the kitten up in her hand. Getting to her feet, she held the kitten up in front of her face a moment, looking into it’s big, soft eyes before lifting it a little higher. “You’re not a boy cat at all, are you, little one?”

The kitten mewled and wriggled in her hands so Natasha started toward the door to let it back outside when she heard the tapping at the window. Turning towards the sound, she gave Clint a strange look before crossing the room to the window and opening it. The look lingered a moment while she processed his words. He wouldn’t let it stay in the house, nor should he unless they got it bathed and checked out first, probably, but he was actually setting up a place for it to stay, right outside where it could still be sheltered.

“Her,” Natasha said, giving the kitten a final scratch before holding it out the window for Clint to take. “It’s a her.”

Clint gave a surprised frown- for some reason he had expected their visitor to be male, but thinking about it, it made perfect sense. He still wasn't too happy about that sudden household addition, but some things... just happened. Kind of fitting that such a tough little fighter, surviving on the streets of an area that didn't have much patience with strays, should be a strong female just like the human it seemed to like so much.

"A little baby girl, huh?"

Taking the little one into his hand came naturally. First on the farm and later in the circus there had been enough cats around to at least know how to handle them. The hot thin body nearly fitted on his hand in whole when he pushed it under the cat's belly, with the ribs standing out painfully. Thinking about it, it was a miracle, it had pulled through that long.

Not that he wanted to think about it, so he quickly put the animal down in that prepared bed and tried to ignore, again, the warm sensation of its purring against his skin, and fought that silly little grin on his face. Now he probably had caught fleas after all.

"No screaming at night. Or you'll have sleeping pills in your milk tomorrow", he threatened their guest in Italian, but again he was pretty much ignored.

The kitten looked around in its new place a little suspiciously, confused, but then started kneading the blanket under its paws just like a grown up and finally curled into a filthy little ball. Which was absolutely not cute. Not a bit.

Clint sighed deeply and made his way back into the house, still shaking his head. Maybe he just grew old and sentimentality came with that...

Clint seemed just as keen to call the kitten a ‘he’ as Natasha had been; it was sort of the default gender term when people were unsure. “Apparently,” Natasha answered. “I thought we should know so she doesn’t have to be an ‘it’ all the time.”

Handing the kitten over, Natasha couldn’t help but smile a little at how gentle Clint was with it, nor did she fail to notice that little grin he was trying so hard to hide. He was a goner; if she suggested tomorrow that they should find a vet, get the kitten all the proper shots and even give it a name, she figured he would try to argue, but he wouldn’t put much effort into it. Even his attempt at a threat was all for show.

Turning her attention to the kitten, she watched it stand there a minute, unsure whether to accept this new luxury or run, before it finally settled down. She watched a moment longer as Clint moved back to the front door before bidding a quiet ‘good night’ to their furry friend and closing the window.

When Clint reentered the house Natasha was waiting for him, and any lingering animosity she might have felt towards him from their fight earlier was completely gone. “Thank you,” she said softly, pulling him into a gentle hug. It was nothing she had asked for, but she knew he had done it for her nonetheless.

Clint didn't quite know what to answer, so he just held Natasha close to his chest and breathed his relief, that the dangerous tension from before was gone, into her still damp hair. Tomorrow, they could talk if they both felt like it. Calmer, after a few hours of rest and thinking, hopefully more rational, with less pain. For now it was enough to know that they could still find comfort and calmness in the arms of the other.

The evening had taken its toll, though, and he hadn't forgotten how exhausted Natasha had been just a few minutes ago. It still hurt to think of it, and it definitely was the best motivation for getting his shit together from now on, for really working on getting better instead of just talking about it.

"You could go to bed already if you want. I'll be with you in a few. Just taking care of the mess."

His lips rested on her neck for a moment before he let go off her to get some paper towels and the wastebin from the kitchen.

It felt like a long time that they just held each other, and it was exactly the comfort Natasha needed right then. No matter what she felt safe and loved in Clint’s arms, and she wanted to forget everything and just stay there until all their hardships had passed. Of course this was impossible, but it was a nice thought.

She could have offered to help him when they parted, and maybe she should have, but she was still walking around in a towel and rather preferred to get dressed. Besides, it really wasn’t that much of a mess that it needed two people. “Don’t be long,” she said anyhow before heading into the bedroom.

She hadn’t really packed much in the way of sleeping clothes, at least not practical ones, figuring she wouldn’t have much need of them, but tonight seemed to be one of those nights that sleeping nude didn’t seem appropriate after everything, so she ended up in a camisole and panties. Once she was changed she thought about going out to help Clint with whatever was left, but the bed just looked too inviting, and she knew he would just tell her he was almost done anyway, so she climbed into bed instead, curling up on her side facing the edge and listened to him moving around quietly in the other room.

Clint joined her not only with the obligatory water bottle but also a few plain crackers on a napkin that he placed on her bedside table, in case she would get hungry in the middle of the night and her stomach maybe still needed a little rest. Standing on her bedside for a moment, he carefully reached out to push her hair back from her face and rest his fingers against her cheek tenderly.

"Thank you for your patience, Nat", he murmured, his voice thick from returning exhaustion, but at least he didn't feel as drained as in the bathroom. A few hours of rest should make them both fit soon enough.

He wasn't sure if she would be comfortable with too much closeness right now, so he settled on his back when he laid down beside her and just stared at her slender, curled up form from behind for a while. With her hair still a little untidy, she looked not unlike their little visitor, he found with the smallest of smiles.

Only without fleas, and that thought at least made him chuckle.

Natasha smiled softly at his touch, and even wider when she opened his eyes to find the food he had thoughtfully placed on the table in case she wanted it later. It was the gestures like this, the little things that nobody else saw, that made her want to do serious bodily harm to anyone who spoke poorly of him, including himself. He was the most thoughtful, caring person she knew, especially when it came to her, and try as she might have in the beginning it had been impossible not to fall in love with him.

She didn’t answer his words, no answer was needed; she just listened to him move, feeling the mattress sink behind her when he laid down. He was respectful of her space and her needs, not even trying to touch her, but when he chuckled she was left confused. It sounded like a genuine one, not the wry nor bitter ones she had heard so often lately.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, scooting backwards on the bed and reaching behind her blindly for his arm.

Risking that she would probably hurt him in a second, Clint stretched his arm immediately when she did, making their hands meet and embrace on the pillows. Of course she would ask, Natasha was one of the most curious persons he knew. Part of it came with the job, but when she came to like someone, there was genuine interest. And certainly not that coldness that many people wrongfully associated with her character.

Most of the time he found it adorable and wonderful, the long way she had gone from pushing away everyone in the beginning of their partnership, but sometimes it put him in embarrassing situations, that was for sure.

"You just looked a little like our new baby girl outside."

He ruefully stretched out a finger to play with one of her curls for emphasis.

"Maybe I should buy helmets for that scooter after all."

Catching Clint’s hand, Natasha held it a moment before wrapping it around her, and trying to pull him up to hold her from behind. When he compared her to the kitten she gave him not quite a kick, but more of a nudge with her foot.

“Are you comparing me to a mangey stray?” she said, feigning insult. “I suppose you did find me on the streets and take me home with you...”

She was one of the best at what she did, so she had hardly been starving or homeless, but she had certainly been at a low point in her life before he had swooped in and saved her.

“I’m sure someone at the market tomorrow will be selling scarves. Or hats.” If helmets weren’t necessary then surely they could find a more comfortable solution.

Clint rolled over to her just in time for a well-deserved love-tap against his shin and answered with another chuckle, wrapping his arm around Natasha's waist. With their bodies closely curled up stomach to back, the last of awkwardness soon fell away and he could relax into the pillows, listening to Natasha's little protests still with a grin plastered on his face.

"Can I save myself in stating that you're as graceful and lithe as a cat?"

He nudged his chin softly against the top of her head and made a half-hearted attempt to suppress his yawn. Long day indeed. They should take it a little easier tomorrow, but somehow he doubted that would happen on the market...

"I guess we better take the car tomorrow to bring everything home", he mused, preparing for the next little kick.

When Clint curled up against her back, holding her to him, Natasha let out a sigh and closed her eyes. Their fight earlier just made her want to be closer to him now, and she was glad to see that he was perfectly okay with the arrangement.

“I suppose that helps, but you’re not completely off the hook,” she said.

She still felt weak and exhausted, though the nausea seemed to have passed for now. She hoped it stayed gone, since she was really looking forward to their outing tomorrow. “I don’t know how much you plan on buying, but I certainly don’t want to try to hold it all on the bike,” she replied. They could buy more fresh fruit and vegetable, maybe even try to do a bit of cooking instead of going out to restaurants every night, and who knew what else they would find. And afterwards they could spend the day on the beach; a bit of relaxing, some swimming, and absolutely no deadlines to worry about.

"It would certainly count as workout. Arm muscles and balance training and all..."

Clint's voice indicated that he was half asleep already and it took him less than a minute to slip into rest. That evening had been more exhausting than he first had realized. It definitely had ended better than expected though, with Natasha's small warm body nestled against his bare chest, the soothing slow rhythm of her breathing that guided him into relaxation, the beloved smell of her hair following into vivid but for once harmless dreams.

He was back in the circus and for some reason there seemed to have come only children to watch this night. He didn't mind at all. Children always loved his trick arrows while the grown ups didn't deem them spectacular enough. Not perfect enough at artistry to really shine along the professionals, he just had his little show with the explosions, the fruits, the horses... A little upside down shooting here and there and balancing over everyone's head while hitting a target from afar. Not the best act of the evening maybe, but the younger ones loved it.

Their little faces beamed with excitement, their enthusiastic cheers even made it up to the circus tent where he had just made his first step onto the high wire. Faintly in the distance a baby was disturbed by all the noise and cried quietly.

He ignored it all and made his way to the middle of the line without faltering. He better didn't. The ringmaster didn't believe in things like safety nets. And no one had ever needed one. Clint had no choice but functioning if he wanted to be part of the show, he had always known that. A small trickle of sweat threatened to blur his sight when he raised his bow to make the final shot. He blinked it away impatiently and lowered his head for a moment to get rid of it.

When he looked up, he saw Barney standing on the other side of the line. Which was... strange to say the least, Barney was up next, he should be down there, preparing his show... Clint raised his eyebrows in confusion. Barney just smiled coldly and gave the wire a hard kick. Just in time before Clint remember that Barney couldn't be here at all, that he wasn't here anymore either, that they weren't young boys anymore and that last time he had stood on a high wire, someone had cut it under his feet while Barney had been watching happily.

He remembered all that when the wire already slipped from underneath him, just like the arrow from his hands, and he fell, fell, fell, long enough to see that his weapon had found its target right in Barney's chest, and then...

Clint startled awake to the break of dawn outside, as it always happened in dreams that included falling, thankful that he had turned on his back again sometime at night. Natasha needed sleep more than him right now. His cheeks were dry and his throat only rough from thirst that he could easily calm with the prepared water bottle on the night stand. Not bad, not compared to the last nights. In the beginning, it had been a very nice dream, actually. The rest... was old stories, long done with.

He found with surprise that he missed the feeling of his bow in his hands, actually. Maybe he would work on the new arrow type a little tonight. Something to busy his body and mind and shift his focus from too much thinking about crap back to business. Yep, that sounded pretty reasonable.

He put the bottle back after another long sip and laid back down with a quiet sigh to turn his head to Natasha. Again it didn't fail to amaze him, the beautiful red light playing with her hair at this hour of the day. Maybe for that, waking up early actually paid off.

With Clint’s warm body pressed against hers, his breathing deep and even, it didn’t take long for Natasha to drift off to sleep as well. Unfortunately all the talk from earlier had dredged up memories and the lingering pain and guilt that went along with them, so while her body remained still and sound her mind was plagued with unpleasant dreams.

Her hands were red, blood red, but it wouldn’t wash off, they were stained too deep by the death count that kept growing higher as the fire burned before her. It felt wrong to kill this way, to burn people alive much like her parents had been, like she had almost been, but this had been her order and she always followed orders.

“Good work, little spider,” a voice said in Russian in her ear and when she turned the fire was gone and a body lay at her feet. It was not human, and blood stained the orange fur, the same blood that covered her hands, covered the knife she held. “You are ready.” When she looked again it was a young girl at her feet; no, not young, the same age as her, but she was only a child then. “You will be the best, our crowning achievement.”

The body was gone, the knife too, but the blood remained. Blood on her hands, down her legs, everywhere. This time it was her own; this time the thing in her hands barely looked human. It was still connected to her, she could still feel it, still feel the hollowness it left inside her. “They said it was not possible,” Natasha cried.

“It is not, you hold the proof, and never again will it get this far. We will take care of it. Give it here.”

“No, don’t take her. Please...”

“It is all your fault. All of it. All those lives... you think you can take it all back? You think you can make it better?” Loki taunted her. Clint knelt at his feet, the scepter pressed to his heart. “Do you really think that the things you do now make up for any of it? You kill for different people now, but you are still a killer.” The point of the scepter started to penetrate Clint’s skin and his mouth opened in a silent cry. “You will never change. You do not despise me because of this,” he drove the point deeper. “You despise me because you are me. We are too alike for your redemption seeking self to accept. And if not for him...” the point started to protrude through Clint’s back, “You would never have stopped. You would have immersed yourself in blood until you drowned and you would have reveled in it!”

Loki abruptly pulled the bloody scepter free and held it out to her. Natasha took it, her hands steady, he expression cold. “Is he your salvation or your damnation? Does he lift you up or hold you back from who you truly are? Make your choice.”

She looked from Clint to Loki and back, then she made her decision and drove the scepter home...

Natasha woke suddenly when she felt the bed move beneath her and it took all of her strength to not turn and attack. Reality came back quickly enough and she tried to slow her heartbeat, tried to hide every lingering effect of the dream so Clint didn’t notice. She swore she could feel his eyes on her, but only when she thought she had herself under control again did she speak.

“You’re staring,” she took a good guess, relieved that her voice sounded easy albeit rough from sleep.

"Hm-hm. I'm a creep, don't you know that by now?"

With something between a chuckle and a yawn on his lips, Clint turned to his side to pull Natasha back in his arms and maybe catch a few more minutes of sleep after all. It was still early...

The moment his hand touched her hip, though, he pulled it back and pushed himself up on one elbow, alarmed. He wasn't too surprised to see the side of her face just as pale as last night.

"And you're trembling", he said quietly, wide awake within seconds.

After last evening... that probably had to be expected. Natasha didn't seem to dream as frequently as him, but when she did, the pictures in her head were mostly bad. And when she didn't even wake him in a nightmare, when her body was so frozen in shock that he couldn't even feel her move... Then it had been one of the really bad ones.

She obviously wasn't in a mood to talk if she tried to hide it, so he didn't ask, just stayed close to her, with the last inches of safety distance between them. Shortly after such a bad journey to the past, with sleep still lingering in mind and body, it could very well happen she needed time to find back to reality alone. He hoped, it wasn't one of these mornings, though. After he had fucked up so badly yesterday and certainly had done his part to cause such a nightmare with it, he wanted to comfort her as much as possible.

"You with me, Tash'? Can I touch you?"

Hearing Clint’s joking, carefree tone helped and Natasha took a few deep breaths, but as soon as he touched her he knew. Closing her eyes tightly, she swallowed hard and remained still, unmoving, even as he snatched his hand back as if it had been burned.

She didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to worry, but hadn’t honesty been on of the things they had fought about last night? She couldn’t expect him to stop pretending to be strong for her while not offering the same in return. They worked differently, though; Clint needed to talk things through to truly deal with them while Natasha internalized everything, but while she might not want to talk about it, something he understood completely, she could at least be honest that something was wrong. Trying to lie to him now would only cause more damage.

“Okay,” she allowed, “Just... easy.” She didn’t want to be held, didn’t want to feel trapped, but a simple touch she could handle; it might even help.

"Always", Clint answered quietly, as calmly as he managed it when he realized how bad this one apparently really had been.

Natasha certainly didn't admit often that she was shaken, that she needed him to go easy on her. He probably didn't even want to know what it was that she had seen in her nightmares. And would have listened to it anyway, word for word, if that was what she needed. But that was something she had to want, to offer herself. He had never forced her into anything, and that wouldn't ever change.

Just out of the same habit he didn't try touch her arm, her hands, her legs, her neck, anything that might make her feel caged in any way. Instead he rested his hand softly on her waist, warm and unmoving save for the smallest caresses of his thumb along the lower line of her ribcage, and waited. She could pull away from such a soft touch anytime if she needed to, stand up and withdraw to another room for a while if that helped. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

But he still hoped, she wouldn't. Feeling that helpless when she was down in one of her darkest abysses, always hurt.

"I'm here", he said, still in that calm, quiet voice, not demanding, not impatient, just an anchor for her to find her way into the brightening daylight. "I'm here for you, Tash'. I love you and I care for you. I'm that idiot who carries you over rocks and brings you flowers, remember? You're okay. We're okay. I'm here for you, okay?"

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

bitt

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject