study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

“Well, it is certainly inconspicuous,” Natasha teased when she saw the car. It looked well worn, and would certainly blend in easily among any other traffic around instead of sticking out like a shiny new rental. Clint really had thought this through, not that she expected any less of him.

Settling into the passenger side seat, she glanced over at him just as the sun was setting, the fading orange glow lighting up the smile on his face, and for a moment she felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the heat. He looked so free, so relaxed, already and whatever happened during or because of this trip she knew it was the right choice.

Turning her face toward the window, she watched the scenery pass by, not even bothering trying to tame the wild hair that the wind blew around her head. Only when he spoke again did she lazily roll her head along the back of the seat to look at him again. “It’s not,” was all she said.

"Good."

Keeping his eyes on the street, Clint reached out to rest his hand on Natasha's knee, without any unpure motives this time, just softly caressing her through her clothes. Just like the young gigolos who were on a fun ride with their girls Saturday night. They both weren't too young anymore - sometimes he had a feeling, Natasha would really never grow of age - but at least tonight, coming home under a clear sky, he felt a little like it.

They actually did pass by a few street festivities like you could find them every night on the beaches of Isola Bella and Letojanni on their way, but he didn't halt, not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to hold Natasha in his arms, rest from the journey and thank her for being here with him.

The small, curvy serpentines up to Taormina village slowed him down a little bit. As much as he loved his adrenaline, he hadn't ridden streets like this for some time. And in Italy, traffic rules were pretty much a matter of not getting yourself or the biker next to you killed.

But finally he could park his car in the entrance of a small one story house, one that would look more inviting in a bright red and a well gardened hedge around it in the morning light. Angelina did a good job coming by here every month. It wasn't something Clint hadn't always afforded easily through the years but it had been worth it.

When they brought their luggage in, windows were opened, insect nets perfectly installed, even some fresh fruit was waiting on the counter. It smelled like autumn leave and Angelina's famous Pasta Bolognese probably waiting in the freezer. The furniture had been uncovered from its protection and awaited them clean and inviting. Dark, simple, mostly wood, the way Clint was used to it from very early childhood though he hadn't realized until much later why he had chosen this particular home. Sometimes it was a bit scary, but he liked it here. And he had made his share of good memory here, unlike in that long burned down farm in Iowa.

And he planned to make some more.

"Mylady..."

He probably should do a quick check of the security facilities before they crashed. That was something he didn't leave to his good old housekeeper soul.

But right now he had priorities. Dropping his suitcase where it would fall in the middle of the living room, he pulled Natasha close for a long gentle kiss, her face softly held between his hands, their bodies close enough for her to feel his slightly quickened heartbeat. It was ridiculous but... He kind of hoped, she liked it. It wasn't exactly luxury standard, but it was cozy.

It was where he could be happy and there weren't many places like this these days.

The drive was pleasant, the scenery beautiful, but Natasha was glad when they finally pulled up outside the small house and were able to get out of the car and stretch their legs. It had been a long day of traveling and being stuck in small spaces, but finally they had made it.

Following Clint into the house, she took in every sight and every smell. The air was warm yet fresh, and inside something a bit spicy. The house was simple but homey, looking loved and lived in with its dark furniture and simple design. The windows had been opened, the rooms aired out and dusted, and everything was prepared. It was an unexpected surprise, and Natasha felt herself warm to the place immediately. It was perfect, so much better than any resort could ever be with their usual hotel furniture and bland artwork.

Turning back to Clint, she didn’t even have time to speak any praise before he was pulling her in for a kiss. Sliding her arms around his waist, she held him loosely and kissed him back before smiling against his lips. “You definitely know how to pick a spot,” she said, opening her eyes to look up at him. “It’s lovely.”

"I try. Sometimes you do get a lucky find."

Clint was pretty sure he made it not to blush, but his smile revealed his relief. It was childish, of course, such things shouldn't matter, but especially since the country had been his idea, he really was glad that the house did it. He wanted Natasha to be as comfortable as possible.

Starting with adapting to the climate of course, and it had absolutely nothing to do with his enlightened mood or the sense of freedom settling in more and more, that he made a good example of getting out of his shirt first thing. Really, just getting used to the temperature.

"Not much to see, but if you want to take a look around..."

He made a vague gesture to bath-, bed- and storeroom on his way to the kitchen. Yep, and of course Angelina had taken care of the empty fridge too. He made a mental note to send an extra tip with the next cheque and poured out two big glasses of water for the first of heat and thirst. There even were icecubes and lemon slice cut ready. Already he began to remember why he loved that country and its people so much.

"Come with me for a second?"

Handing Natasha her glass, he nodded to the bedroom door. Again, nothing special, but the little balcony right in sight of the bed was definitely the best part of this house. And before they would take care of all the boring stuff like unpacking and checking on the alarm systems, he just needed to see.

Even now at night you could spot the lights of the ships from afar, and a light wind carried the faint smell of the ocean even up here. Clint rested his arms on the balustrade, like he had done it a thousand times before and just leaned there for a long moment, silently, trying to comprehend.

So... They had really done it. He wasn't delusional enough to think, all nightmares and fears would be chased away by the sound of waves from afar or taking on a few pounds from too much pasta. But standing here where he had spent so many lonely evenings in the past, with only the peace and silence of an ocean breeze could force away the pictures of violence from his mind... That surely wasn't something he hadn't expected last week, while fantasizing about killing the next whitecoat in sight with a pen if he had to hear the word deprogramming just once more.

Edited 2014-03-12 17:42 (UTC)

Natasha understood his relief, and found it rather endearing. This trip was for him, the location had been his idea, so of course he would worry she wouldn’t like it. He had always worried way more than he should about pleasing her and making her happy, though she certainly appreciated it. It was not something she was used to, though.

Giving her eyes a playful roll when he wasted no time in stripping off his shirt, she fell in a step behind him as he led her through the house, pointing out various rooms on the way. “And a fully stocked fridge?” Natasha said, impressed. “I feel bad for thinking you did nothing but nap while I packed.” Except she didn’t look like she felt bad at all, just thoroughly pleased.

Gratefully taking the glass of water, she took a large gulp before continuing the tour into the bedroom, which was the room she was most interested in seeing tonight. As much as she wanted to see everything and explore every bit of this house that Clint seemed to love so much, the idea of crawling into bed sounded really good right now too.

Following him out onto the small balcony, her eyes lit up at the picture before her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, leaning one arm on the rail and resting her glass beside it. For a moment she just took it all in - the sights, the sounds, the smells - before finally turning her eyes to Clint again. “I can see why you wanted to come here.”

Her voice lead him out of this good-natured type of melancholy, and only blinking, slowly, to clear his sight, Clint realized that he had been close to dozing off actually, even while he was still completely lost in memory and satisfaction. Well, yeah, it had been a long day.

Natasha looked just as tired, so he delayed all the kind of things he could have told her about the house, the village, the island, to another time and lead the way back inside with a knowing smile.

"I'll do a quick check up of the alarm system. Feel free to crash in the meantime."

He just stopped shortly by the broad bed to take the cover off and shook his head with a grin when he spotted the chocolate pralines on each pillow pile. Baci, these were called, the Italian word for kiss, and especially prepared in hotels for young couples as a welcome present. Obviously he hadn't been awfully discreet about not arriving alone in his e-mail.

"Just a fair warning, I give them two weeks before they want to prepare our wedding out in the village."

When Clint looked at her she could see that he was practically asleep on his feet, and if she were honest she wasn’t far from it. It had been a tiring day, both physically and emotionally, but finally they could relax. There were no meetings to get up for in the morning, they could stay in bed as long as they wanted. There were no training sessions to go to, so they could spend the whole day on the beach. They could explore the village, or not even leave the house; whatever they wanted to do. Whatever they wanted. Whatever they wanted. For the next few weeks, at least, their time was entirely their own.

Following him back inside, Natasha finished her water and set the glass aside before her eyes fell on the chocolates on the pillow and she gave a light laugh. “Is it improper us being here, unwed?” she asked. She was unsure of the customs and beliefs of this particular village, so it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to think so.

There were a lot of things she never considered on the rare occasions she thought about her future, and marriage was one of them. She had been married once, and ‘widow’ was not simply just part of her codename. The marriage had been arranged, but she had grown to love him, and his death had devastated her. It was what had caused her deflect, to strike out on her own and make her own way in the world. She had sworn never again, that she would never let herself be so vulnerable again, never let herself feel so deeply for another.

She hadn’t counted on Clint Barton.

"Nah, they did grow a little more modern in the last 50 years or something."

Clint laughed quietly but quickly pulled Natasha in for a kiss on her forehead when he noticed her frown. Sometimes it still happened, no matter how well he knew her, he touched subjects that should be better left alone and only realized when it was too late. Fortunately he knew her well enough after all these years to pass such situations without doing even more damage.

"They might ask us a few times on the market if we have plans anytime soon, but it's all in good spirit, really. Love and family are held very high in Italy. They like to see people happy. And since I'm never happier than with you..."

Another soft, nearly chaste kiss on her lips followed.

"We'll fit in perfectly."

It was going to be a bit strange at first, to not only be completely open about their relationship, but to do so in front of people that knew Clint and would come to know her. It was easy holding hands in a crowded airport where nobody knew them, but something entirely different to be a couple around people that would talk to them, be interested in them.

It was a little thrilling, to be honest. No cover, no mission, just them and a chance to live how normal people lived.

“I think I might like it here,” Natasha replied, smiling warmly at him. Stealing one last quick kiss she abruptly pulled away. “Now go do your rounds and get your ass back here so we can sleep.” Stripping her shirt off over her head, she started a pile in one corner of clothes that would be going right in the laundry. She could look for a basket tomorrow; unpacking could wait too. She was unusually tired and all she wanted to do right now was sleep.

"Aye, Ma'am."

Clint mock-saluted her with a grin and quickly left before she could grab something blunt and heavy to aim at his head.

There wasn't much to do, fortunately. After Angelina had set up power supply, turning on security scanners and satellite control was a matter of minutes. The tech was a bit outdated after more than 5 years, but for the moment it did. Windows and doors were untouched, so for tonight they could definitely rest in peace.

Clint brought two more bottles of water to the bedroom and silently put them on each bedside table, in case Natasha was already asleep. Especially her, not being used much to hot climate, was likely to wake up thirsty later.

She wasn't wearing an awful lot of clothes when he crawled in next to her with just his underwear on, but any kind of activity for the moment was overshadowed by exhaustion, and that feeling seemed to be mutual. Natasha would have to wait a little for her little payback in that airport arcade.

Just for a tender kiss on her shoulder Clint leaned over her before he fall back in the pillows with a deep, satisfied sigh. Home and out of the game... Still felt fucking unreal. But here they were. Sleep already teared on him while he was still pondering about that, a delighted grin on his lips.

While Clint ran his checks and set up his security system, Natasha stripped off to just her simple cotton panties before climbing into bed and pulling the light sheet up over her. She hadn’t felt this tired in a long time, at least not without having just finished a rather intensive mission, and she was already half asleep by the time she heard Clint return.

She listened to him pad quietly around the room, and opened one eye long enough to spy the bottle of water he had placed thoughtfully on her night stand. Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes again when she felt the bed shift as he settled in behind her. Letting out a soft sigh when his lips brushed her skin, she rolled over to face him, not pressing herself against him but bringing her body closer to his nonetheless.

“Good night, Clint,” she whispered, resting one hand against his chest to feel his heartbeat pulse under her fingers in a soothing rhythm.

Already half-asleep, Clint more felt than heard Natasha's whisper but his smile grew, and until he finally passed out, he had his hand placed softly over hers, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

He was out like a dead man for most of the night, which was a very welcome change to months of nightmares and coldness attacks. He felt more rested than he could remember for quite a while when he woke up to sunlight climbing over the ocean.

The soft orange light falling in through the windows had Natasha's hair glow like a flame, all spread out over her pillow, when he opened his eyes, and that was definitely one of the best ways to wake up. Not to speak of the memory that this wasn't even a kind of mission, that they wouldn't have to prepare for killing and running later for once. That she was with him here because they had chosen so and didn't have to worry about anything but keeping a low profile for a while.

It still felt fucking incredible.

He didn't reach out for her, not wanting to wake her, just watched her for a few long minutes while he waited for sleep to come back. When it didn't happen, he made his way silently to the kitchen to see if the coffee machine was still alive. It was, and together with the fruit Angelina had prepared for them yesterday it made a pretty decent breakfast. Light enough to leave room for more later, since he definitely planned to take Natasha to the best pasta place in town today.

"Hey, sleepy."

When he sat the tray with the food carefully down on the bed, Natasha still seemed pretty out. Apparently he had exhausted her more over the last weekend than intended.

Natasha slept soundly, completely assured that Clint had chosen the best spot and secured it completely so there was nothing to be afraid or wary of. No nightmares, no waking abruptly to strange sounds, just a full night of undisturbed sleep, or at least what remained of the night.

In the morning she felt him move, felt him rise from the bed, but she felt so warm and comfortable that she didn’t push herself to wake up, instead letting herself fall easily back to sleep. She was still vaguely aware of her surroundings, though, like the sound and smell of the coffee that Clint brewed in the kitchen.

When he returned with breakfast she smiled first before slowly opening her eyes to blink up at him. “Good morning,” she mumbled, rolling over on to her back and stretching out her arms and legs.

Clint shortly thought about telling Natasha that she looked absolutely adorable after having just woken up. But since he very much liked his balls exactly where they were, he kept it to himself and just grinned, taking a few first sips of coffee.

"You sound as if the night was good."

He tried very hard not to look where the cover threatened to give away Natasha's nearly non-existing clothing and rather concentrated on diminishing a few orange slices.

From her reclined position, Natasha took a moment to study Clint while he started on breakfast. He looked happy, relaxed, and well rested, and generally better than he had for months. Her smile brightened.

“I don’t think I woke once all night,” she replied. Pulling the pillow out from under her head, she clutched it to her chest as she sat up, drawing her knees up to hold it there. Clint was doing well not looking, but she knew that even after all this time he found it nearly impossible to not be distracted by her nakedness unless it was a dire situation. If she needed patching up, or help to get clean if she was injured then he was always a true gentleman, his concern far outweighing his libido, but in situations like these when everything was good and nobody was hurt? Not so much. It was always reassuring that he still found her unbelievably attractive.

“You look as if you slept well,” she said, taking a sip of coffee before plucking a grape from the plate and popping it into her mouth.

"Must be something in the air", Clint replied with still half a bite of orange in his mouth, and started licking off the juice off his fingers with pleasure then. God, you forgot so quickly that fruit tasted to much better when it wasn't transported over half the globe and stored for months first.

For a while he busied himself with vitamins and getting awake enough for coherent conversation and only stole quick, admiring glances to his side in between. Natasha had been nice enough to cover herself enough, at least most of it... The rest of soft curves and pale skin lingering on his mind he could handle.

Also, it was nice for once just enjoying the mood, the missing pressure of making use of every minute. Pondering about what the day could bring without making a strict time table. Birds outside the window were having their morning chats, other than that the city was still asleep and would be for a while.

"On Wednesdays there's always the big street market", he finally threw in after his last bit of coffee. Today was only Tuesday but they should be fine. "We can get the stuff we still need to lay low for a few weeks there. For now we've got everything we need here, I think. And we can try out my favorite restaurant later. If you're not much in a hurry to unpack... It's still cool enough for a walk."

“The air is certainly fresher here,” Natasha said with a grin. She was used to the harsh, polluted air or New York City, but it was always nice to get away from it for a while.

Knowing that Clint wasn’t at his best before his first cup of coffee, Natasha fell into comfortable silence while they ate their breakfast. She still felt a little off, but she passed it off as jetlag, refusing to let that ruin their first day. The weekend had been relaxing, able to spend the whole thing together, and they had hit on some emotional breakthroughs that had brought them closer together than ever before, but the Monday deadline had loomed the whole time, and the impending meeting with Fury. Now it was over and they were free to spend their time however they wanted, and it felt good, really good, and while Natasha was still of the mindset of not wanting to waste a minute of it, she hoped that would fade soon enough.

She listened to Clint’s ideas for their first few days and nodded as she placed the last bit of fruit on her tongue. A few weeks o themselves, only needing to venture out once a week for fresh food? It sounded wonderful.

“We can unpack later,” she agreed, finishing her coffee and setting the empty cup on the tray. She hated living out of a suitcase, especially somewhere they were planning on staying and relaxing at, but a few more hours certainly wouldn’t hurt. “After a long shower.” There was no point getting clean now before their walk, but she still felt the grime of travel clinging to her and was looking forward to washing up before they went out for lunch anywhere.

"Shower or bath", Clint answered with a little grin, remembering that Natasha had not been in the bathroom yet. There was just one little luxury that he had allowed himself to install in here, or rather had had installed, in exchange for a little help with bad guys, by a plumber in town. It wasn't exactly a Stark-sized luxury whirlpool, but it did well enough.

He got busy with bringing the dishes back to the kitchen before Natasha could ask and angled for a shirt and a pair of cargo shorts from his suitcase. Out of habit he was already searching for a basecap and glasses to go with it when he remembered they weren't undercover and didn't need to shield their faces the whole time. He stopped for a moment, the items in questions in his hand, still leaning over the suitcase and shook his head with a short smile. It began to show that he didn't really have much of an idea how it was like to be on holiday, alright.

There were worse things to get used to.

He left the things on the drawer for later, when it would be hotter and brighter outside, just to find himself reaching for his phone next to put it in a pocket of his pants. Rolling his eyes, he dropped it on the basecap and turned to Natasha with a little shrug.

"I'm definitely out of practice."

When Clint returned the dishes to the kitchen, Natasha finally extracted herself from the bed. Kneeling on the floor, she unzipped her luggage and sorted through the carefully folded items before coming out with a pair of khaki shorts and a sleeveless, button-up blouse. Pulling a sports bra down over her head, she looked up at Clint in all his confusion as he debated over hats, sunglasses and phones.

“I can see that,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “But don’t worry, you will pick up the habit soon enough.”

Pulling a few sundresses from her bag, she moved to the washroom to hang them up and hopefully steam the wrinkles out of later. “Or a bath,” she called out in reference to his earlier statement, now that she saw the room. The house was fairly modest, but somehow the tub didn’t seem out of place. Everything about the place was near perfect.

"Yeah, yeah, and before we know, I'll end up a fat old fart, sitting on the sofa watching sitcoms all day."

Laughing quietly to himself, Clint waited for Natasha in the doorway, giving her all the time she needed to get ready. He made use of it for a quick observation of what was really more the pure excuse of heat-damaged grass than a garden. And, on top of it, scarred from the typical city wildlife that had also left its mark on the hedge.

He decided, the whole thing was probably not worth any effort. But then again, who knew what the next weeks would bring. Maybe he would actually finally bring himself to install that fence. Would at last keep the furballs out.

He found he had been wrong when Natasha and him left: One person in 'his' street was already awake at this Italian-atypical time, busy with making her rounds through the neighborhood to take care of the very same stray kittens Clint wasn't overly fond of. Angelina had a soft spot for them that he could live with as long as she didn't let them inside his building. Also, the meeting gave him a chance to thank her for all her efforts.

Fortunately that reserved ageless woman whom he had never seen with any person but her clients, had a memory like an elephant. Knowing he wasn't the communicative type in the morning, so she just nodded and smiled when he greeted her in her own language and tipped his non-existant baseball cap. Then she turned back to tend to an especially hungry and dirty looking kitten with an injured leg. Not without throwing Natasha a very curious glance though, and for a moment Clint thought to see her smile grow.

Other than that they had the pine-tree seamed alley for themselves. After climbing two of the narrow stairways connecting the several rings of the city, they reached one of its highest points. Maybe a little faster than necessary Clint neared the waist-high well protecting the viewing platform, impatient to see, and he wasn't disappointed. The same thoughtful, admiring smile as everytime was on his lips when he sat down on the broad stone railing with his knees pulled close to his body.

When you had just left the madness and dangers of a the changed world in New York behind, it was incredibly soothing looking down on the same deep green and blue ocean that he had fallen in love with so many years ago. The same bright beaches and solid black rocks that would be crowded with visitors and residents sunbathing later. He even spotted the colors of two or three fisher boats he definitely thought to remember.

He decided to blame it on the light autumn breeze that carried salt and the screams of seagulls up to their little refuge up here, that his eyes had started burning a little.

The walk was pleasant, and while Natasha appeared perfectly casual, her observant eyes were taking in everything around them. It wasn’t as if she had never been to Italy before, but this was different. This was a part of Clint, something that was clearly very important to him, and he had chosen to share it with her. He wanted her to be a part of this life, this secret paradise he kept to himself for so long, and she couldn’t have expressed how much that meant to her even if she tried.

She smiled at the woman with the kittens, and paused just long enough to scratch one behind the ear before falling into step once again beside Clint. They met no one else, and she almost fell behind a moment when he picked up his pace, but soon it was made very clear that this wasn’t just a walk, that he had a destination in mind.

Taking a seat beside him, Natasha looked around them, trying to memorize every detail. When she turned her gaze to Clint she noted how shiny his eyes looked and leaned over just enough to rest her shoulder agains his while she looked out at the water once more. She didn’t mention it, didn’t say anything, just let him soak up the sights and smells that seemed to have such an affect on him.

Maybe that was how it felt to have a home.

Somewhere in the course of the last minutes Clint's arm had crept around Natasha's waist, he found, when he shook off his melancholy. The streets below were slowly filling with the first habitants running their errands and a few joggers down by the beaches. They should be getting on their way back if he didn't want Natasha to catch a sunburn on the first day already.

Some things there always had to be time for, though, like leaning to her to rest his lips tenderly against her temple. She hadn't said anything and he didn't need to either. He just wanted her to know.

"That shower sounds pretty nice now", he just murmured into her ear, maybe a little rougher and deeper than absolutely necessary, and brought himself to leave his little nest then and head back to the stairs.

The sidewalks around the viewing terrace were filling with tourist market stands by now and curious eyes followed their steps. A few men tried to sell them music cassettes, china made jewelry, supposedly original volcano rocks and fake tattoos. Clint was so used to ignoring them that he hardly looked up.

But he couldn't help but grin when an especially persistent gigolo proposed several times to draw Natasha's picture, praising her classy, elegant features, finding all kind of creative comparisons for her hair color. By the time they left the stand behind, he was close to giving her his service for free.

"You make quite an impact, red."

It was one thing to see the town silent and empty, but Natasha thought it much more beautiful on the way back as it truly came alive. Perhaps she could have done without the panhandling, but it was still interesting to her, and also something else how closely they were watched while knowing that it was only out of pure curiosity, not because of any nefarious purposes. Maybe they would be the talk of the town, but they were safe here.

Once they had gotten past the rather persistent artist, Natasha turned her beaming smile at Clint. “Maybe I should have dyed my hair before we left. Blonde, maybe brunette...”

It would hardly have mattered in this case. Even if she wasn’t so striking to look at, she was still the first foreigner through the streets at that time so it wasn’t that she was a prime target so much as the only target. “How often have you come here?” she asked.

"I prefer this color, though", Clint answered immediately though, well, that wasn't much of a secret.

Answering her question was surprisingly harder than expected. A thoughtful frown spread on his face as they made their way back down the stairs.

"This city? Basically it's been my base when Nick made me play The Godfather part 1 to 25 a few years ago. Didn't leave middle Europe for nearly a year. After a while you get to know your way around, I guess."

But that hadn't been the only time, had it? He had told Natasha that he hadn't been on Holiday since he had started working for Fury and that was true. Except for these short spans you spent in safe houses that couldn't really be called being off duty...

More than 10 years of one mission after another. Roaming the seas for some time, waiting for orders to sink several highly dangerous pirate boats, hadn't been any different. Always on alert, always ready to strike. But that had been the year when he had parked a certain little courageous boat quite often down there in the harbor of Naxos. Everytime when he had had a bad case of sea sickness and claustrophobia and had needed a few days at shore.

The exact memory of these occasions was pretty blurry though. Probably too much booze involved.

"Probably our catlady could tell you more precisely", he added after a few seconds, with something that wouldn't quite pass as a smile anymore. "There's been times in this job... I'm not even sure I want to remember too much. When it all blurs down to bodies and the scars you bring home... Sometimes I felt like the protagonist in someone else's nightmare."

Still a shaky laugh but better than nothing.

"It's days like these when I was really glad I could just go somewhere and close the door behind me."

And just like that a shadow passed over Clint’s mood, and Natasha immediately regretted her question. She had imagined him stopping here between missions, figured he must have come back a few times for the people to know him, but she hadn’t anticipated that even his safe haven could hold some bad memories.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Catching his hand, she stopped them and turned him to face her. “We won’t think about it any longer, and we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to while we’re here, okay?” Squeezing his hand, she offered a soothing smile.

“This is our time, and we can do whatever you want. We won’t discuss work, it will be a true escape.” Raising her other hand to his face, she ran her fingertips lightly along his jaw. “If you want to talk, though, I am here to listen.”

She didn’t want him to think that she didn’t want to talk about the heavy stuff, that she didn’t want him to open up to her. On the contrary, she hoped that this trip would go a long way to healing him, and part of that would probably involve discussing his pain and his fears. She didn’t want to push him, however, at least not at first. “Anything you want, I’m here.”

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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