study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

The chuckle wasn’t exactly genuine but Natasha would take what she could get at this point. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with faux innocence, sliding her hand around to push at one side of the sweater. It wasn’t as easy using only one hand, but she had carried out much more difficult tasks one handed, this was hardly a challenge.

“Isn’t that what we do best?” she said, raising her head to smile at him. It was the truth, really; they were at their best when they were together and they did their best work as a team, no matter what it was.

Closing her eyes at his gentle kisses, if she were a lesser woman she might have melted right there. Her lip was still a bit sore where she had bit it earlier and she had hardly given it much rest since. She had hardly noticed, but she did notice the care Clint took with her anyhow.

When he arched his back again she pushed the sweater up to just under his arms, as far as she could get it before he’d have to let her go for a moment.

"Well, I see, we still have it in us."

Very reluctantly, Clint took his hands off her to get the piece of clothing out of the way and fell back onto the mattress, relieved. Smiling up at Natasha, he reached out for her face, thumb brushing over her cheek and down to her neck. Much better though he probably would lose these pants also somewhere in the course of the night. Just to wake up with the feel of her body nude against his, the reminders of the evening before playing among them and just the security, that it was her, her warmth, her silhouette pressed into his, every detail of her body he knew so well. No ghost.

His hand on her back started wandering again, lightly tracing every line, every curve of her torso, the sensitive backside of her arm, the small hollow right over her butt, until it came to rest there, just that little much on the teasing side with his fingers half sprawled over her round cheek.

Returning his smile, Natasha brushed a soft kiss against his lips before settling down against him again and letting out a deep sigh. His skin was warm against hers, and much more comfortable than the heavy sweatshirt. “Mm, much better,” she muttered, pressing her lips right over his heart.

She had barely settled back down again when his hand started wandering as if it were her who had just been unclothed. She had always loved the contrast of how gently he touched her with those rough and calloused fingertips, and she let her eyes close again, just relishing in the feel of his touch.

“I thought we were going to try sleeping,” she said in a teasing tone. Trailing kisses across his chest, her tongue darted out to just flick across his nipple before she lifted her head to look at him with raised eyebrows.

"We are", Clint claimed, innocently drawing his hand back just to her waist as if nothing had happened. Though he didn't need to look to see that small shiver sprawling out just where her she had teased him back.
In spite of wearing himself out before, he was pretty sure he'd be back in the game in five minutes if he wanted to, but Natasha definitely needed some rest after being there for him so much.

"Still not going to hurt you", he murmured into her hair. "Speaking of it... If you feel like I'm going to lash out or something... You kick my ass, okay? I'm okay, really... Just might be an uneasy night."

Natasha could have easily been ready to go again as well, though not for anything quite as thorough and heavy as before. She could certainly go for a quickie but when Clint retracted his hand and played innocent she did little more than give him a “yeah, right” look before settling her head back on his chest again.

She wasn’t sure why he felt the need to keep reiterating that he wouldn’t hurt her, except for the demons lurking in his head being worse tonight. He hadn’t hurt her before, and while she might not be up for that particular kind of fun again any time soon, that didn’t mean she didn’t want to do it again sometime. She also knew he would never push, and that it would be in her own time.

This was about more than that, though, and he was still clearly worried about the nightmare that were likely to come. “I never have any problem kicking your ass,” she said, her hand sliding up over his chest again to reclaim its place over his heart.

"That's really all I need to know then", he answered, just the slightest quiver in his voice.

No, he certainly didn't plan to ever be in a fight like before New York with her again. Even he couldn't be silly enough to get himself into such a situation twice.
But it was good to know that she was ready to do what was necessary, always, if it should come to it. If there were still days when he couldn't trust himself, he could always trust her to do the right thing.
Like a right measured jab in the ribs before he could hurt her unwillingly in a nightmare.

Their activities before and the heavy talk had worn him out more than he had thought, as it turned out. He could feel his mind go blank just seconds after he had closed his eyes, the final relaxation settling in with Natasha snuggling close to him and his fears cast away for the moment. This time he didn't fight it.

********

It turned out he had worried more than necessary. It was one of the suckers that made his nights miserable since New York, like expected, but none that mad him a danger to his bed partner. It was indeed the cold one.

He didn't fight anyone in that particular one. He stood perfectly still with his arms high, leaning against the wall of a store room, and waited. The metal vibrated under his ice cold hands with the familiar noise of the quinjet engine he had installed in this plane. Nothing but a spare time ego activity. Very useful though, if you had to get a bunch of soldiers from the US overseas unseen and as quick as possible.

The co-pilot had picked up quickly enough on his instructions, when Clint had been called away from the cockpit to see the Master. But he could still feel every single uneasy bump of turbulences, a loveless hand wielding a sensitive wheel with the disinterest of a paid soldier.

It was something to concentrate on, if nothing else. Counting the miles they were going and the routes they were changing to fly under official radars, while his body froze from the inside. More and more, with every assault, every touch and especially every hissed word.
It didn't help trying to hide his thoughts. The light spread from the deadly alien steel pressed neatly against his throat to keep his head immobile, filling every last part of his conscience that was still willing and able to fight. The voice of winter kept on whispering to him, sweet, promising and eternal.
His body numbed along with his mind, unable to feel what he would on the next day swallow away with pills, channeled and missiled into that one remaining emotion of hate. Revenge.

Soon he would not be a slave any longer, the voice promised. Soon he would have what he had always wanted. Claim what was his, no longer afraid of any consequences.

And while he sank to the floor, rolling into his side with his teeth chattering violently... The taste of sickness and blood in his mouth, from his tongue that he couldn't remember to have bitten... He found it was true. It was so much easier not to feel.

Only the salt blinding his vision just as much as the familiar blue glow, remained of his resistance.

He found himself still tensed up tightly on his sight when the blue finally disappeared, unable to move more than pulling the blanket even tighter around his shoulders. Jesus fucking Christ, for the next generator failure he would install a goddamn wood stove in his living room.

"Nat?"

He heard his own tired whisper before he could stop himself and called himself weak and ridiculous at once. If she was asleep, resting, he should be rather glad than giving that whole discussion from before a sequel, before even sunrise.
Maybe he just needed to know she was there, as long as he was shaking too hard to even turn around.

At some point in the middle of the night they had rolled away from each other. Neither of them was used to sleeping with another person, not like this, and they had reverted to their usual positions when they shared a bed on missions: back to back. Survival instinct was hard to ignore, no matter how safe they were.

Natasha slept rather dreamlessly, and what hints of nightmares that did creep in where quickly forgotten when Clint’s voice saying her name suddenly drew her from her slumber. For a moment she was disoriented, her hand reaching under her pillow for a gun that wasn’t there as her eyes shot open and searched for the doorway. She saw nothing, and before she could panic about her missing gun her brain caught up with reality. She was in Clint’s apartment, Clint’s bed, and if she rolled over she would find him lying there with her.

Taking a deep breath to settle her mind, alarm quickly set in when she felt the best shaking slightly, like the mattress itself was trembling. Rolling over, she was met with the sight of Clint’s back and could see him shivering, even in the darkness. “I’m right here,” she assured him, moving close again and wrapping her arm around him from behind.

It was embarrassing, really, how much he held on to these comforting arms at once, tightly clenching his teeth to shake off his sub-consciousness' escapades.

At least he didn't have to worry about making Natasha freeze again. The coldness was only inside, merely a phantom syndrome but nothing less real in its effects.
Only when Natasha's presence all around him reminded him that everything had ended well, the shaking wore off. He pressed his lips against her hands, holding them close over his chest until his heart stopped racing.

"Thor said, it's about where he comes from", he murmured when he didn't feel like his words would come out as a scream or a sob anymore.

It wasn't so much about what had happened, though Clint could very well do without ever being touched by a cosmic scepter again, thank you very much. It was the lessons drilled into him that still freaked him out. Drilled, branded into his body and into his brain, with every of these feather light touches that had left his muscles sore, as if he had taken a ride on good ol' sparky afterwards.
And then the sickness, flowing through him every time there had been that relentless hand around his throat, making him feel like his air ways were frozen dead.

He wasn't sure why he told her, but it was easier once he had started. If he absolutely had to ruin the weekend for them - at least the nights - he at least wanted her to know why.

"When that asshole lays as much as a finger on you, it's like standing naked on North Pole. And that scepter does the same to your brain. There's nothing else left."

He trembled again, his shoulders tensing up painfully with the sound of every of these cruel, sweetly whispered words still much too present on his mind.

"Nothing but what he tells you. He's had some pretty creative ideas about the two of us. After I told him everything about you, that is."

A choked, angry sob spoke of the hate that after all these months he still couldn't turn away from himself. That one little part of him would always wonder how he could have prevented all this, and at night it tended to grow.

Strangely it felt easier when he had gotten it off his chest. This all was about trust, hadn't he thought that so often last evening? Hiding anything from Natasha only shook that foundation between them. He had already endangered it enough with his goddamn silliness in this past battle.

"I can't help it, Tash'. I feel... dirty, like that Bastard left his stench on my brain."

He held her so tight she could do little more but press herself against his back and remind him that she was there as much and for as long as he needed her.

When he started talking she didn’t interrupt, didn’t say a word, just kissed the back of his neck softly and quietly listened. She didn’t push, but he continued talking anyway, and once he started he kept going no matter how hard his body trembled, how choked his voice got. It was time, it was finally time for him to open up and let it all out, and Natasha was glad she was able to be there for it, for him. Maybe she should have tried to make him talk sooner, but she knew better than anyone what he was going through. She knew he had needed the time to come to terms with it himself, but more than that he had had to trust her enough to let himself be this vulnerable, to let her see the things that terrified him, the things even he didn’t want to face.

She also knew he felt guilty about everything he told Loki about her, some things she had admitted only to Clint, had only trusted him enough to tell him. She didn’t blame him, though, not for an instant. She hated that Loki knew all about her sordid past, but she couldn’t blame Clint for telling him, not knowing what she knew about being brainwashed.

When he finally seemed to run out of words, when he said her name, she finally responded.

“I know, baby. I know,” she said softly, kissing his tense shoulders, the back of his neck. She left it at that for now just in case he had more to say, not wanting to cut him off if he still needed to talk.

She knew... Of course she knew. There was probably no one who knew better but her.

Which was exactly why he had hesitated bringing this up in detail so far. He had not wanted to be a burden for her, adding his own memories to her horrors. The dream had left him with a moment of weakness and couldn't help but be relieved when she didn't run from him after all these confessions. Her kisses started crawling it where the coldness set, and he leaned his head forward again, pressing his lips tightly against her hands and resting his cheek against them.

"I'm just afraid, Nat. There's not exactly a science about all this. They keep on telling me, all looks fine but they won't let me out of evaluation. I just can't stand the thought..."

The next shivers went from the base of his neck all the way down and he was just sure, she actually had to see it. After quickly wiping his face in the pillows, he turned around to her, because he needed her in his arms, right now, needed to know, this all was just coming from his own paranoia. That she wasn't going anywhere.

"What if I just wake up one day and everything's back that he left there? You have to promise me, Tash', please..."
Looking at her just made it worse, he had to bury his face into her shoulder, his unsteady hands slightly tightening around her neck, her back.
"You... just be careful, okay?"

For Clint to admit he was afraid he must have been downright terrified. It was just all so foreign, so unknown, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t worried about it herself more than once. She had knocked him out and it had seemed to bring him back around, but what if it was only temporary? What if Loki somehow returned and was able to reinstate his control? There were so many ‘what ifs’ that nobody could answer, and clearly the doctors were just just as worried about a setback, though Natasha also felt that their lack of confidence was only compounding things and making them worse. If they truly believed he was fine they would lessen his appointments or clear him completely.

She felt the violent shiver run though him and pressed herself closer, almost protesting when he moved away but knowing that confining him wouldn’t be a good idea. Thankfully he only put enough distance between them to turn to face her before pulling her into his arms where she could hold him close again. When he buried his face in her shoulder she wrapped one arm around his back and the other over his shoulder. Threading her fingers in the hair at the back of his head, she placed a soft kiss at his temple. For a moment she considering rolling to lay on her back so she could more easily hold him, but the position seemed a bad idea right now with his fears of overpowering and hurting her. It would be better to remain neutral or take a more dominant position herself unless he wanted otherwise.

“I’m always careful,” she assured him. “You won’t hurt me, Clint. Neither of us would allow it.”

"I can't be sure of that. Ever anymore. That's what makes it so hard. I can just try my best, everyday again."

But Clint didn't say it with as much hurt and fear as before, mainly resignation left. And a great deal of relief. Maybe he had just needed to hear that Natasha would take care of herself indeed, that she would watch out for dangers when he couldn't see them coming, because they were on the inside.

Never again, as long as he could do anything about it.

If that had just made the last of fear easier, the pictures of blood on his mind that never really had happened. They were stubborn like the rest of his fucked up mind, but the longer he buried his face against Natasha's shoulder, allowing a few last drops of too deep emotion touching her skin, the more he could drag himself away from that useless train of vision.

His hand was aimlessly roaming down her back, pulling her closer to him but the position wasn't the best, and finally he leaned back again, taking her with him.

"Like it where you were before", he mumbled against her skin, gently draping her leg over his so they could press into each other again.
"You're better than any blanket."

“Maybe you can’t be sure, but I am,” she said with complete resolution. If his fears came to pass then she would fight him again, but she had to believe that he would be fighting too, fighting to free himself and to keep from harming her. She couldn’t rely on that, of course, but things had changed between them and as silly as it was, as childish and fanciful, she wanted to believe that it would help. “You’ve always been so strong, Clint, but we’re even stronger together.”

She could live her life with the same fear that he did, that someone from her past would return and try to flip that switch again, but that wasn’t how she lived and somehow she would convince Clint not to live that way either. For now, though, she could only offer encouraging words and a shoulder to cry on. Running her hands soothingly through his hair while he cried, she didn’t protest when he pulled her back to lay on top of him again, just let him move her however he needed.

“And you make a pretty decent pillow,” she replied with a soft smile. It seemed the storm had passed, and while she knew this was far from over she felt like it would be easier to move forward now with everything out in the open. She was grateful to him for confiding in her, and a bit proud that it was her he had chosen, but in the end who else did either of them really have?

"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.

When he finally looked at her, his eyes fixing on her lip, Natasha studied his face. “We helped each other,” she said, leaning just slightly into his soft touch.

While Natasha had been his idol, Clint had been her saviour. He was the first person to see her as a human, not just an asset; to see her as a woman, not just an object. He saw her strengths and her faults, and despite her past and her skills he had still let himself trust her.

That day he had spared her he’d done so much more than save her life. She had been little more than a drone, a shell, and over the years he had helped her discover who she truly was. For so long she had liked what she was told to like, had done what she was told to do, but Clint had given her a choice, something nobody else ever had. She would forever be in his debt for what he had done for her.

The kiss came as no surprise and she melted into it, into his arms and his body, the emotional scene they had just worked through making the need even greater. They had done pretty well with communicating, finally, but actions were always easier so she kissed him back, slow and deep. Shifting her leg so she could straddle him, she lay her body flush over his, their chests pressed together tightly until she could no longer distinguish between their heartbeats.

Until she shifted position, Clint held on pretty well, but having a naked Natasha sprawled on top of him, left him without any reaction only when he was dead. Or on heavy drugs.

He could perfectly do without another adrenaline ride for the rest of the night or however long it would take until the mood would shift like that next time. But she was there, skin to skin to half of his body, soft full flesh pushing into his chest, and the heat building between their bodies chased away the last of coldness inside. No surprise that his manly parts obviously thought, they were headed in a certain direction.

He ignored it bluntly and concentrated on enjoying their kiss instead. On that feeling he had told her about earlier, that always made it to ground him... Just her, purely, bare wherever his hands went, giving herself, her securities, all her feelings over to him without a second thought.

As he held her closely against his slightly faster rising and falling chest, his hands roamed aimlessly up and down her sides, fingertips teasing the backsides of her arms. A few strands of her sleep-messed hair he nudged just enough over her shoulder so he could catch her scent. That was really all he needed right now, while his lips melted against hers, tongue teasing the sensitive skin casually in between... Embracing her with all of his senses.

He had finally stopped trembling and his hands were now warm against her skin, his touch forever gentle. She knew how deadly those hands were, but despite their battle on the helicarrier it was hard to imagine those hands hurting her in any way, not when he touched her with such care now. He was always so terrified of hurting her, of making her do anything she didn’t want to, and after their talk she thought she understood that a little better.

She felt him responding to her but didn’t acknowledge it. He had just poured his heart out to her, finally told her about the nightmares and fears he’d been bottling up for months and she wanted him to know she was there for him, and she wasn’t about to just brush it off with something physical, not anymore. There was more between them now than that, she had more to give him than just her body, though she would still gladly give him that as well. She let him set the pace, let him touch her and mold her however he needed while reveling in the closeness and intimacy and the sheer pleasure of his kiss.

When Clint finally broke their kiss, he did it only to press his face back into the crook of her neck, a happy, relaxed sigh on his lips, when his arms around her pressed her close into his, until it felt like they were more one person than two. His fingertips tangled in her curls, gently massaging along her neck and over her scalp while his other hand had somehow, magically come to rest on the sweet curve of her butt- well, he couldn't blame himself. It was indeed one of his favorite part of hers.

"Best waking up I've had in months", he mumbled against her skin, so deep and fully content it nearly came out as a purr.

Well, okay, he could have done without the dream part, but there definitely was no better way to warm up than with Natasha's soothing voice and touch guiding him.

Natasha settled back against him, and when she felt him relax against her her own tension slowly slipped away. He really was surprisingly comfortable to lay on, and more than that it was surprising just how comfortable she was with him. There were no masks, no lies; with Clint she was simply Natasha with all her flaws and issues, and he accepted and loved her as she was.

“I find that hard to believe,” she chuckled though it wasn’t as light as she intended. He hadn’t thrashed around, hadn’t screamed himself awake, but she doubted it was a pleasant awakening by any means nonetheless. “But if you go back to sleep now I promise to stay right here so you have a much better one in a few hours.” This time the smile in her voice was genuine.

"I believe, that's called bribery", he chuckled, not even making the smallest move to let go off her. The hell he would complain about such a comfortable beautiful cover warming him for the rest of the night.

"Just wake me, should it get uneasy."

No, as much as he tried, he couldn't completely get that worry out of his head that he might leash out in the wrong direction in a weak moment, but at least he had the reassurance now that she would take care of herself.
It made it easier to close his eyes, after a last kiss onto her forehead, and try slip into a light kind of meditation that would allow him to fall asleep easier.

“Don’t think of it as bribery so much as an incentive,” Natasha replied, smiling wider at the chuckle in his voice. She knew things couldn’t be smoothed over so easily every time, that there would be times when the darkness was harder to banish, but for now she wasn’t going to argue and just accept this blessing.

“I will,” she promised. Turning her head she settled it against his shoulder again, one hand drifting lazily up and down his arm. She had always loved his arms; even before, even in the beginning she had been able to appreciate them, and now they were definitely one of her favourite attributes.

Listening carefully to his breathing, even if he drifted off she was content to stay awake, to make sure she kept her promise. It would take some time to get used to sleeping like this, but it was a pleasant prospect that she was looking forward to.

It was one of the dark ones again, one of those he hated most, when Natasha was involved, but this time he realized early enough he was dreaming. With some effort made it to turn away in time, before the screaming and bleeding could start.
He could still feel her press against his body, naked and warm, and part of his clouded mind realized, that was real. So he allowed his mind to dwell there, hands softly, slightly clumsily in his drowsy state caressing her back while she smiled at him.

They were talking, he couldn't quite make out the words. His hearing implants probably were off. He didn't need to hear. She had told him yesterday what he had longed for all the time, and he had already memorized these few syllables on her beautiful full lips.

It wasn't until the shot fell and she collapsed in his arms, lifelessly, that he realized his subconsciousness had played another evil trick on him.

At least he managed to tear himself awake immediately this time, breath racing through his chest in harsh, short gasps, his arms still closed tightly around her body. He was awake, no disorientation this time, no irrational fear. Just his eyes burning with the last remains of the dream as he buried his face against her neck just like so often last evening and tried to forget.

His warmth, his steady heartbeat, the even rise and fall of his chest; they all worked to lull Natasha into a state that wasn’t quite sleeping, but much more relaxed than normal. Ultimately she stayed awake, though, determined to keep her promise, and to be there if Clint needed her, as soon as he needed her. She hoped he wouldn’t, that he could sleep soundly and dreamlessly this time.

Unfortunately that wasn’t to be.

She noticed it first in the increase in his heartbeat, then the tightening of his arms around her before he suddenly awoke, gasping for breath.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her lips close to his ear, hand moving up to stroke through his hair. “I’m right here. Everything’s fine. I’m fine.” She didn’t know the details of his dream, but from their talk earlier she could only assume she had played a part in it.

He knew she was okay, he could feel it, hear her... Still he had to bring his trembling hand to her neck to feel her skin smooth and intact there, free of every trace of blood, of the slightest scrape.

Only now he he could allow his body to relax back into the mattress. The adrenaline of an unexpected turn in the middle of a most pleasant dream had his body wired up, though. His back hard with tension, his eyes searching the room a few times, making sure everything was in order before he pressed his forehead against Natasha's shoulder.

He was still trying to get his breathing under control when he loosened the hold of his arms around her back, afraid to hurt her, just gently placed his hands on her waist instead.

"We're safe, right? We're alone..."

Her fingers continued to move through his hair but otherwise she didn’t move, just let him hold her, let his hands move over her until he’d satisfied himself that she was truly there and well. His embrace was so strong, almost painful, but Natasha didn’t let her discomfort show, even managed to let her breath out slowly when he finally slackened his hold.

“Yes,” she answered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. “Just you and me.”

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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