study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

"I wouldn't dare to."

Clint proved that he could behave perfectly and stopped his little assault immediately. Well, after one last kiss on that one spot under her ear. Since Natasha was in a perfect position for a very painful elbow use, though, he backed away quickly then and rather carried the dishes in the living room.

There was a nice set of placemats he found in one of the drawers, in the Island typical lava colors of red and black. And after a little rummaging around in the top kitchen cupboard he came up with his best wine glasses. He wasn't in a drinking mood and Natasha shouldn't - a thought that still felt a little strange and square - but the thought counted. He put all the more effort in creating a nice rich fruit juice with fresh ingredients and sugar and stuff. Soon the living room table looked like they had something to celebrate. Well, in a way they did, right?

He waited like a good boy until Natasha had put the pizza in the oven, then he pulled her in his arms again with a grin and handed her her drink.

"Can I go back to distracting you now?"

Clint must have really been hungry as he quickly backed off and stopped distracting her so she could finish what she was doing. Left to her own devices Natasha piled the pizza high with various toppings, then smothered the whole thing in cheese, though she did spare him a glance every so often as he flitted around the house before eventually joining her in the kitchen again to make fresh fruit juice. All these years and he still managed to surprise her.

Once the pizza was ready to bake, and looking pretty damn good, she popped it in the oven and set the timer. She didn’t even have time to wash her hands afterwards before she found herself in Clint’s arms again. “I suppose that is allowed,” she replied, returning his grin as she took the glass from his hand. “Just don’t miss the timer.”

"Wouldn't dare to. My stomach and me just made a truce, not gonna break that."

Still right now there were other things than food on Clint's mind, at least until that timer was up. He let his arms slide from Natasha's waist deeper, to her hips, and picked her up to set her on the counter, right in the middle of the flour and sugar mess there.

His back protested a little against the strain, but he ignored it with a grunt and rather devoted himself to Natasha's mouth. He hadn't touched his own glass yet but from the taste he got from her, he judged, he had done a good job with that juice. He licked his way thoroughly over her lips and between then, indulging her, drowning in her, while his hands softly caressed her back and neck. Nothing more, just holding her and enjoying being close to her.

"Had to remind myself how much I love that", he murmured between a few more kisses on her jaw, her neck, that sweet red glow on her cheeks. "We really should cook more often, definitely..."

Natasha didn’t protest when Clint picked her up like she weighed nothing. She almost did protest about being sat in the mess on the counter, but he soon silenced her with his lips and she quickly forgot all about it. Sometimes when they kissed it was hard and rough, other times gentle and teasing, and then there were times like this meant to steal her breath and make her practically melt in his arms.

“Losing your memory in your old age?” she teased, one hand still holding her glass even with her arms draped over his shoulders. She knew what he meant, though. The past few days had been hard, their touches awkward and fleeting; it was good to have the reminder, to feel close and comfortable again. “If this is how cooking always goes then I don’t know why we never got into it before.”

It was nice to just spend time like this, close and exploratory, but they could easily make a game out of it as well, try to ‘beat the clock’, challenge each other... it would certainly make cooking more interesting. Maybe something to try another time, though right now she was content to stay just like this. Locking her ankles behind him she kept him trapped, not ready to let go. He didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry anyhow.

"And think of all the fun stuff you can do with food between the cooking."

Natasha seemed just as starved for touch as he was and he was perfectly happy to comply, hugging her close with his arms safely wrapped around her and his face buried into the crook of her neck. She was all warm and soft against him and smelled a little like vegetables and spice and summer. Her hair tickled his skin, and if he only got to hug her like this for the rest of his life, he would die a happy man.

"Better."

His lips caught a small patch of pale, tender skin and worried it softly, not even remotely hard enough to bruise. She tasted as sweet as she smelled and soon he actively had to keep his mind from wandering. Better to just enjoy the time they had until food was ready. He caressed her back in long, gentle strokes with his cheek still nuzzled against her, and just brushed her hips slowly on his way down before he started giving her legs the same harmless treatment.

She was so far from that tense state from the last mornings, it felt like her muscles were melting under his softly massaging fingers. He immediately remembered that long massage he had promised her. Yep, definitely, soon. Her clothes were messy and after his hands had been there, her skin was a little messy too, and it was absolutely perfect. Well, and if he caught himself sucking a little on that certain spot on her neck in between, it really was just by accident.

She hadn’t been thinking about the food, just the ways to pass the time while waiting for the food to cook, but now that Clint mentioned it she certainly was. “Mm, you’re making this sound more appealing by the minute,” she said. Carefully setting her glass on the counter beside her, she returned her arm around Clint and rested her head on his shoulder, content to just hold him until the timer went off. This time, at least; tomorrow might be a different story. Maybe she would actually get a decent amount of sleep tonight and get a little energy back.

Closing her eyes she relaxed completely in his arms. Nowhere had she ever felt safer, more comfortable, more loved, then when Clint held her, and she was glad to know that hadn’t changed with everything they were going through. His hands moved over her body and she let out a quiet sound of contentment and nuzzled against his shoulder. He was spreading oil and flour and various other things all over her clothes and her skin but she didn’t rightly care. That’s what showers were for, right? “I don’t even want to imagine what the water bill is going to be like,” she chuckled, one finger tracing lazy patterns on his back.

"I'll just send the bill to S.H.I.E.L.D.", Clint answered with a shrug, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. "You know, expenses for advanced recreation or something. Keep your body and mind in shape and all. They should be happy to care for the well-being of their employers. I think I read that somewhere."

Still chuckling, he leaned back to look at her, his smile turning melancholic and deeply affectionate. It was unbelievable, the change the last hours had brought. He had no illusions that they would be facing times of fear and maybe greatest grief soon enough again, but for the moment, Natasha looked content, relieved and a little happy.

There was a small dot of flour on her nose - how the hell had he gotten it there? - as if the ponytail didn't make her look young enough yet. He wiped it away with a fingertip and kissed the very spot then and then her lips, softly, longingly, like the last seconds had already put him into withdrawal.

"You look a little pregnant, you know", he murmured, blushing immediately. Was that something you told a woman? He had no idea and maybe he should have thought of that before since Natasha was in a perfect position to punch him in the balls right now. His mouth had always had a will of its own. "It's beautiful. I mean, you're always beautiful, but..."

Goddamnit, Barton.

“Hmm, that might work. They allot a certain amount for massages, after all,” Natasha replied, sounding like she was giving this all serious though. “And since we have our own private masseuses and don’t need that, I don’t see why we couldn’t argue this instead.”

She grinned at him when he pulled back enough to look at her, her fingers gently massaging his neck again, and crinkled her nose when Clint wiped a bit of flower from the tip of it and then placed a lingering kiss there. His sudden admission surprised her, though, and her eyebrows shot up, unsure how to take those words. Clearly he was just as unsure about them and tried to backpedal quickly. She couldn’t help but be amused by that.

“I bet you won’t be saying that in a few months,” she said, sliding her hands down to his stomach and pushing him gently away, “when you can’t get any closer than this because of my big belly.”

"You underestimate my creativity, red. Also..."

They were only joking, of course, but Clint felt the need to argue anyway, to explain himself. Maybe some things couldn't be said often enough.

"You're always beautiful."

He took her hands in his and placed them on her still flat belly, as if there was already something to feel there. Soon there would be. And as scary as that still was, he found himself more and more looking forward to that.

"Still trying not to freak out over this, but... I mean, you'll carry our baby and all and that's a really great thing. Pretty sure we can work out the hugging thing. You know, master spies and all, we're said to be innovative."

Of course Clint couldn’t let it go, even if it was just a joke. If he had even the slightest inkling that there was any truth to it, that Natasha could be worrying at all about her future appearance or how it might change how he felt about her, then of course he would do whatever he could to lay it to rest.

Looking down at their hands intertwined and covering her belly, her brow furrowed slightly. At the moment they were okay, maybe even a little giddy about the whole prospect of having a baby, but it wouldn’t always be like that. It was exciting, but also terrifying and it was probably going to equally be both of these things for the entire term.

As long as I make it.

“Our baby,” she whispered, bringing her eyes up to his. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

"Our baby", Clint repeated just as softly, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek and keep her gaze. To let her see, he knew about her fears that came so easily through, even in a moment of tenderness and anticipation. And that he shared them equally.

"We'll get used to it together. We'll make it through this together, no matter what comes."

He had told her countless times before but this was something he couldn't say too often. Natasha needed this security, especially if the thing they both feared most would happen after all. He needed it. He was used to gambling and losing, alright, but this thing... This was bigger than any of them had done before.

He intertwined his fingers with hers, his thumb brushing gentle circles over her belly, and kissed her forehead every so tenderly. Nothing but good faith and the hope for fool's luck right now, maybe. But how often had that luck gotten them out of shitty situations?

"I believe in us, you know", he murmured. "And I want to believe in this. We'll be fine, Nat, I promise."

Some people prefer strength in times of fear, but Natasha appreciated his honesty and was grateful that he let her see it, that he was feeling all the same things she was. She didn’t feel silly that way, and didn’t feel she had to be strong for him either. They were in this together, completely and utterly. They would help each other through, no matter what.

Leaning her cheek into his hand, she nodded slowly. She didn’t want to think about the worst case scenario, didn’t want to think about the possibility that they might be helping and supporting each other through loss instead of life. She had to think positive.

“I believe in us too,” she replied quietly, turning her face to place a lingering kiss to his palm. “And I believe we can get through anything together.”

Cupping the back of his neck in one hand she pulled him in for a long kiss, deep and full of all the emotions she had trouble expressing in words.

Of course that meant it was about time for the oven timer to go off and interrupt.

Clint tried to ignore the annoying ping from the oven but his body disagreed strongly. With the delicious smell of tomatoes, cheese, basil and oil filling the air, there was no denying anymore that his appetite was back. Maybe not full-fledged yet, but enough to not ignore that damn growling of his stomach.

"I'm going to get back to this later", he murmured close to Natasha's lips but quickly withdrew then before another thorough round of kissing could keep them from their diner.

He just took a second to get out of that apron, leaving his chest bare and decorated with a little flour here and there. Then he took the baking tray out of the oven with the help of a potholder and reached for a big knife to divide its content in small slices. It all looked too much for two persons honestly, especially with his stomach not being back to demanding half an elephant on his plate.

"Might be you have to finish my share this time", he grinned at Natasha, handing her her plate.

Natasha let out a quiet groan of protest when the oven insisted on continuously beeping until it was turned off. Probably for the best, as burnt pizza was not an appetizing prospect, and the more she smelled their dinner cooking the hungrier she felt.

Reluctantly letting Clint go, she slid down off the counter where he had placed her and watched him slice up their creation. Her mouth was practically watering by the time he handed her the plate. “I’m hoping we haven’t reached that point yet,” she said, grinning at him as she retrieved her juice. As time went on and her appetite increased it may be that she would start out-eating him, but she hoped they weren’t there yet. “Although this smells amazing…”

Leading the way to the table, she paused a moment when she got her first glance of just how nicely he had set it, like this was a special occasion and deserved celebrating. Maybe it did. Throwing a quick look back at him it was fairly unreadable, but not in a bad way. It was definitely a good look, just indescribable.

Natasha's glance had him blushing instantly, and he shrugged with a small smile. They didn't need to talk about it. It was probably best not to talk too much about it, not all of the time. Too much that still could go wrong, too many open issues. They should still enjoy this times when they could be careless and pretend it wasn't their whole life about to change.

A well-cooked pizza was one of these things that could easily make you forget that, in fact. In spite of his reservations, once he had started eating, Clint found himself hungrier than ever, and finally there was just a small slice remaining on his plate. Not the excesses he had had before all this had started, but at least he wasn't running on just coffee anymore.

With a most content sigh he leaned back in his chair and stretched out to nuzzle Natasha's leg with his under the table.

"That was perfect. Nobody would believe you haven't grown up here, the way you create a pizza, red. Seems we make a perfect team in the kitchen too."

He finally took a sip of his juice, just a small one, for the justified worry that his stomach would just explode soon, and smiled at her from over the edge of the glass.

Natasha was impressed from the very first bite, and although her stomach wasn’t completely back to rights it didn’t take her long to polish off the first piece and start on the second. Even more than enjoying the food herself she was glad to see Clint tucking in not quite to his usual vigor, but a lot better than the past few days.

“Pizza is easy,” she replied around a bite of the same. “Give me a recipe with specific instructions and you will be singing a different tune.”

Reaching one arm beneath the table, she idly rubbed his leg, smiling at him as she finished off the majority of what was on her plate. “I feel I must compliment the chef on the wonderful ‘wine’ he managed to mix up in minutes."

Well, this time Clint could hide his blush behind his glass at least.

"Every excuse to get my hands on the fruits around here", he chuckled after another sip from his glass. "It's a circus thing, I think. On our travels through the countries, Barney and me often stole our food from the nearest field to have something to eat at all. All that frozen and modified shit you get in the cities in the states or on a S.H.I.E.L.D. base, you know... It's always nice to be in regions where you can eat that stuff fright from a tree."

He remembered that stupid fantasy he had told Natasha about, about having his own farm with fields and dogs and all, and suddenly he wondered if that actually was in his future. It wasn't exactly a dog, but they had started on that pet thing already, and if fate was good, they would have a family soon, a family he certainly didn't want to have in his neighborhood.

He didn't even know how to handle it at all at this point, admittedly, but that was something he was certain about. They would need a new place to live. Natasha and him still were too young to think about retiring, and he was pretty sure, she'd want that as little as him at this point, but who knew how things would look in a few years?

Getting ahead of ourselves, are we, Barton?

He shook his head a little to get rid of these pointless speculations and put the half-empty glass away for the moment. Plenty of time to think and talk about that in the months to come. No need to ruin the mood right now with too serious stuff.

"I guess I better clean up the kitchen."

Some men were sexy, some were cute, and some were just plain goofy, but Clint Barton happened to be each of these things at any given time. Right now, with him looking a bit bashful at the praise Natasha had given him he was definitely adorable, but give him five minutes in the bedroom and he was beyond sexy. It was a mystery how he managed to pull them all off without even trying.

Pushing her plate aside, Natasha took a sip of her drink and propped her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand as she listened to him talk. S.H.I.E.L.D. provided nutritious, healthy meals for their employees, but they didn’t spend any extra in importing anything special, and nutritious didn’t always taste good. Then, of course, there were Clint and Natasha’s own eating habits when left to their own devices. Take-out and whatever is quick and comes in a package or can... not really the best either. Maybe this whole ‘eat local and cook fresh’ movement would be good for them in multiple ways.

“I’ll be there in a moment to help you,” she said, wanting to just sit a moment longer and let her food settle before getting to her feet again.

She couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last. They only had another week, maybe two, before she would absolutely have to contact Nick and update him on their status. She had been prepared to argue her case to get more time for Clint, but she had not expected this turn of events. She would have to come clean, and then what? She couldn’t even begin to guess how Nick would take the news, nor how he would want to handle it. She presumed he would insist they return so he could have his own doctors monitor her progress, but they idea of going back to headquarters now, of going through this in such a sterile and cold environment after spending time somewhere so warm and inviting... it wasn’t a welcome thought.

She wondered how far along she had to be before flying was out of the question...

Natasha seemed lost in thought, so Clint left her alone for a while. Starting the dishwasher wasn't exactly much of an issue, and cleaning the counters gave him something to do. Something to help keep his own mind from wandering into dark territories again.

There was no imminent reason for that right now, why work himself up? It had been a very turbulent but in the end a very nice day, he didn't want that ruined. At least he had enough composure back by now to keep himself distracted successfully, mostly with making out plans for the next days. A few things that Natasha and him should look into, chores to keep their little home here running, and hopefully some more time of relaxing on the beach before the days would become too chilly for that. Better. One step after the other.

When the room didn't look like there had been a hurricane anymore, he washed the rest of cooking off his own body in the shower and laid out now towels for Natasha. With only a towel around his hips and his skin flushed from a little too hot water, he returned to the living room.

"Didn't know if you want to soak", he murmured, turning his chair from before around so he could astraddle it rather than half falling asleep on the table. More and more he did feel how long the day really had been. "I could set up a tub for you if you like."

Natasha had full intentions of helping Clint with the kitchen clean-up, but by the time she’d roused herself out of her musings he was already done and heading to the washroom. She thought of joining him in the shower but her limbs felt heavy and she didn’t even notice she was dozing off until she heard Clint return to the room.

Lifting her head from her hand, she gave him a sleepy grin when he straddled his chair despite the fact that he was wearing only a towel. “I think I would just fall asleep in it,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll just clean up at the sink.” The quicker she was clean the quicker they could just go to bed. It was still fairly early but it felt like they had been awake for several days straight, and considering how little they really had been sleeping lately, fighting sleep now would probably be counterproductive. “Just as soon as I can make myself move.”

"We can make a deal. You get your pretty behind in the bathroom..."

Clint threw her a small boyish grin from where he was leaning on the back rest of the chair, not too enthusiastic with moving himself. But the perspective of a soft mattress sounded just too nice right now.

"And I give the bed a makeover in the meantime."

He had been meaning to change the sheets anyway, and after the oil massage before, it was about high time.

"Up, woman. Or you'll wake up with hell of a stiff neck tomorrow and we can pull off a perfect partner look."

Still grinning, he got up to lean over Natasha and place a kiss on her forehead and quickly fled to the bedroom then. After all the teasing today, he wouldn't put it behind her to give him a reminder of how nasty her elbows could be.

The bed soon looked a lot more inviting. Clint realized without surprise that Angelina had apparently washed the reserve sheets too, since they smelled faintly off lavender and citrus, not like years in a cupboard. He made a mental note to invite her for diner soon for her all her efforts.

It was a little early to go to bed, definitely, but with the heavy curtains pulled close, the room was dark enough to let exhaustion take over. He left the towel on the same pile in the corner where the old beddings were and stretched out on his stomach with a content sigh while he was waiting for Natasha. It was stupid, really, they were secret agents and all that shit, they were used to sleep on rocks and sand but... There wasn't much that beat a fresh-made bed for comfort.

It felt good to be able to move and lie mostly without pain again, and the last of complaints from his back would hopefully be gone by tomorrow. Right now he felt only like crashing for like 12 hours in a row.

Natasha pursed her lips to one side, worrying the inside of her cheek between her teeth as she pretended to contemplate this offer. Clean sheets to slide in between definitely sounded good, as did just laying down in general. She just had to get up first.

Making a playful swat at Clint as he gave her a quick kiss and ran, she missed him completely, not that she was trying very hard. Shaking her head with a smile on her lips, she placed her hands on the table and pushed up to her feet, pleased to find she didn’t feel dizzy this time as she had earlier in the day. Ah, the healing properties of a good meal.

Making her way to the washroom she shed her clothes and dumped them in the laundry basket. Washing the flour and oil and the remains of the day from her skin, she let her hair down and brushed it out until it fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Once she’d finished in the bathroom she collected her bucket and headed for the bedroom where a very pleasant image awaited her. Clint was stretched out on his stomach on the freshly changed bed, his perfect butt on clear display and looking very bitable. It she wasn’t so drained she would have definitely taken it as an invitation.

“How does your back feel now?” she asked as she set the bucket on the floor beside the bed and climbed up beside him. She could easily finish that massage before sleep, just maybe sans the oil so as not to mess up the clean sheets.

"It'll be okay. You can always torture me some more tomorrow."

Clint turned his head to her, lazily propped on his arms, and gave her a smile that matched his tiredly slurred words. Natasha was the only person he gladly accepted as his personal torturer, but it could wait.

It was a warm enough evening so she preferred to go commando just like him and he had really no objections at all to that. Now that they knew what was going on, he was a lot more observant to the small changes in her body, but they certainly made her no less gorgeous at all. Fortunately he was too tired to let that have any effect on him right now. Natasha was just as exhausted as he was, and as comfortable as it was right now, he didn't sleep well on his stomach...

He reached out gently to run his fingertips through her hair and over her cheek, but no, that didn't work all that well yet from this position, so he dropped his arm again with a grunt.

"I'm good. Let's just try to get a little rest."

Natasha smiled fondly at Clint’s sleepily slurred words as she stretched out against his side. She couldn’t help running one hand over the perfectly sculpted muscles of his back any more than she could resist placing a few kisses along his shoulder. Eventually, though, she rolled away, wanting to feel the crisp, cool sheets against her skin and bury her face in the soft pillow.

“Good night,” she murmured, sleep already tugging at her. It had been a long few days, and while everything was far from settled and there was still a lot to be afraid of, she felt relaxed and content enough in the moment to drift off with little resistance.

Her perfect body tucked against him felt as overwhelming as ever, even when he was half asleep, and he enjoyed every second of it, every soft touch of her lips sending goose bumps down his spine. His lips caught hers shortly before she turned away, a short sigh of disappointment on them, but it was okay. More time and chance for cuddling tomorrow, when they wouldn't be both that drained anymore.

He drifted somewhere between relaxation and dozing while he watched her, as long as he could still keep his eyes open. She was gone soon and looked so peaceful, so still in this moment, as if all the catastrophes of the last days hadn't even happened. The bright light, filtered through the curtains, colored the room and her pale skin into a faint glowing orange, her hair floating around her shoulders was a flame.

Clint longed to reach out and touch it but he didn't want to disturb her, not when she finally got a desperately needed break from everything. But he watched her, watched her roll on her back in her sleep, watched the perfect light on her skin and her full rosy lips slightly opened. The calm rising and falling of her chest, the delicious curve of her breast. And much lower, nearly invisible in this position, the changing surface of her no longer completely flat belly.

There... He wasn't quite used to the sight no longer producing only fear and dread in him but this strange, stupid, nearly ecstatic anticipation. Suddenly he found himself wanting to kiss exactly that little spot, and it was even harder to hold back from that. Stupid, careless, naive. He would only make himself hurt so much more if he allowed such deep feelings for this... this whole thing yet, if it turned out to be doomed in the end.

Unfortunately he had no idea how to stop it. Whenever he let his eyes wander to Natasha's belly, he saw that damn photo on his mind, nothing but two shapeless blobs really, but soon... Maybe when they did the next ultrasound already... It scared him a little how much he wanted this to go right, in spite of all this fears. How much he wanted this little peanut in Natasha's body to grow, see what it would become. If it would be a little girl maybe, with Natasha's beautiful red curls and...

But that was a too scary thought to lose himself in, and his mind fled into finally a more sleep-like state. That imaginary baby in his thoughts didn't stop growing though. It grew rapidly. It wasn't a redhead after all, it had darker skin and hair. It actually didn't look a bit like any of them.

The fast motion movie in Clint's head went on, until he was faced with a teenager he once might have known. Sharp features, thick eyebrows, early shaped body. Natasha's current state apparently still occupied him, because the girl who couldn't even hit fifteen, sported a big swollen pregnancy belly. As she caught him looking, she smiled at him, like the girl in the hospital earlier, but it didn't look happy. Her eyes were dead.

She had a knife in her hand, with a bloody blade, and Clint faintly remembered that this very blade had left that one scar between his shoulder blades. But this couldn't be right, he didn't know her... Nor any of the young girls surrounding her, all of them too provocative dressed and dolled up for their age, all of them scarred by torture, fear and desperation.

Except he did, didn't he? Maybe not in his conscious mind, maybe his head refused the details of the mission which had brought him to this beautiful sunny country in the first place. But his terrified heart remembered when the walls of alertness and mental training fell.

Will you help us, Signore? Have you come to save us?

There was also Hill there, and God knew that wasn't a face he didn't need to see in his fucking Holidays. But Hill was a sure bet if you needed someone to ruin the day, of course. So of course she would be there, giving him the famous side-eyed look because Barton, stupid-reckless-inappropriate-insufficient-emotional Barton was fucking up the mission again and why was he still here again? He should be back out on the ocean with his damn boat, watching his target instead of messing with foreign business.

This is police work. And you're compromised. Get your ass out of the city. Or I'll have you extracted right away and you can write reports for the next five years.

Sea water burning in an open cut to the bone like acid. Endless weeks out in the open, living off what he fished out of the water. More often than not he had puked it back out before it could poison him too much. And these dead eyes, a shrill scream of a newborn piercing a hot summer night. Blood on his hands.

There was salt on his lips too, on his tongue, and that was real, and he supposed he was crying, but his mind wouldn't get any more lucid than realizing that. His body was obviously of the opinion he needed sleep, even if it was the bad kind.

A dead cat on his porch next time he came home, weeks after. And of course, because things were always fucked up when he slept, it was a black one, though that wasn't right either, he was sure. He could nearly grasp it, nearly recall everything if he just wanted it... But oh boy, didn't he.

You can help us, signore, can't you? You have to. You will...

Searing hot pain crawling down his back, and maybe that was real too because he was a stupid fuck and had made it to fall asleep on his stomach. And now his body was so tense and frozen, it wouldn't even let him turn or startle enough to rip his mind out of this stupid dream.

Well, there went a night of good rest.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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