study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

"Just wait until I've lived off pizza and pasta for a month, red."

Clint peered down at her from under that pillow, and his teasing grin turned into something softer at once. It was a great relief that they were back to joking around, and that touches didn't feel so forced anymore, but even better was seeing that Natasha honestly seemed to get better. She didn't hide in these baggy, too hot clothes anymore, they were done with crying at least for the moment and her stomach seemed to be okay except for the mornings. That was good, right? That was normal...

And she could still kick his ass if he behaved like an idiot, thank God. There would be no time for beating himself up on a damn workout bench in the next months. He needed his body and mind fully functioning if he was to carry her through this. Natasha had her own very memorable ways of making him remember that.

But she had oil, and that made it so much more endurable. It was definitely wrong how much he enjoyed her hands on him, even when he had to grind his teeth and breathe through the only slowly ceasing cramps in his legs.

As soon as she was close enough, he placed his hand on her thigh and gave her a soft, just a little fuzzy smile.

"Thanks, red. Promise, I'll return the favor."

It was amazing how relieved she felt now that the decision was past them. She was still terrified of the future, of the possibilities that still remained, but for now the decision was made and Clint was standing by her, no matter what. That made all the difference in the world.

It felt good to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her fingers, to feel his muscles flex and relax under her touch. They had been almost as strangers, their touches awkward and unnatural, but that much of it seemed to have passed without the pain and uncertainty hanging over them.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, returning his smile as she moved on to his thighs. “You really did a number on yourself, didn’t you?” she said, working the muscle a little harder than necessary. She would never be too hard on him, but if he wanted it to hurt then she could make it hurt. Just a little. Then maybe he wouldn’t do something this stupid again for a very long time. “Maybe you should stick with water sports from now on.”

He could have told her that he had just forgotten to warm up properly - not at all was more like it - and that he wasn't that young anymore, but why lie to her? She'd know, anyway. She already had her way of telling him what she thought about his stupidity. A way that had him groan between his teeth from time to time or bite down on that pillow. It would just bring back this unbearable tension between them to make up excuses.

"Adrenaline helps, you know. Mostly I just got wasted in the past when I wanted to forget, but sometimes... Can't really remember how often I woke up in some dirty side valley because I ran too long and too far in the middle of the night. Especially after all this crap with... after New York. Probably lucky they didn't just shoot or stab me somewhere by accident."

His hand on her thigh caressed her softly, just a little to not distract her from her task, and his eyes rested on her face unflinchingly. Only these little pained sounds were on his lips from time to time, but they already came less frequent. Natasha knew what she was doing, always had. He definitely didn't plan on making this a habit anyway. Or at least not in a way that she had to watch.

"Sometimes I need that. Sometimes it needs to hurt outside instead of inside."

Natasha was very glad for his honesty; it made her feel like they really were on the road to healing. Had he lied to her now... she wasn’t certain how she would have reacted, but that probably would have signaled the end of the massage.

Of course it still hurt to hear it. All those times he had ran, would they have been better had she been there? Maybe they should have taken this vacation earlier, or she shouldn’t have accepted so many missions without him, but maybe they were both running from something. Either way, there was no point dwelling on it now. It was in the past, and while she preferred to live in the present, for the first time in her life she really had to think about the future.

“I understand,” she said quietly, and she did. They all had their vices, their ways of dealing with the things that were difficult to accept or get through. Moving a little further to kneel at his side, she bent forward to place a soft kiss to his stomach before continuing her work. “For what it’s worth, between drinking, running, and this... I’m glad it was this.” Had he run off she would have worried about when he’d actually return, or if something would happen to him in his emotional state, and while he could be fun when he was drinking, not so much when he was doing so to drown his sorrows. She was pretty sure that would have only led to more tears for both of them. He was in a lot of pain now, but it was the less stressful of the options, and the one she could help him through as she was doing right now.

"Thank you."

Clint's eyes fluttered close and his body went a lot more pliant under Natasha's hands. They were both grown up people, master killers, for fuck's sake, they sure as hell didn't need the other's permission for their ways to handle their demons. But knowing that Natasha didn't judge him, wasn't disgusted by his weakness, made it so much easier to melt into her touch.

He felt a lot better already in fact (though he would agree to cook her a five course meal in an instant if she wanted to go over his back just one more time). When her hands were close enough, he lifted his head to kiss her fingers, one after the other, ignoring the faint layer of oil. His hand wandered from her thigh up to her back to caress her in soft circles. Better, definitely.

His right biceps would be pouting for another few days but he knew his body well enough to be sure, nothing had torn, and being able to move again just felt amazing. Slowly, piece by piece, he could feel balance slip back into his body and mind. By now he really enjoyed Natasha's warm, skilled hands treating him with the soft warm oil. He made a mental note to use it next time when he gave her a massage. When she was touching him too lightly or brushed over sensitive places, he shivered a little, another sign of his vitals coming back to life.

He still felt drained but that was probably more to not exactly having eaten much in the last few days. And his stomach was still on holidays, but a small bite for diner wouldn't hurt anyway.

But first he wanted to hold Natasha in his arms for a while. They had allowed themselves too little of that in the past days.

"Come here?", he whispered softly, raising his hand to her face, his thumb gently brushing her lower lip.

He finally let himself relax and Natasha worked her way over the rest of his body that she could reach in this position. She still found a few hard knots here and there, especially in his arms, but the task was easier now that he’d let his mind go as well.

She smiled warmly when he started to get more affectionate, and though she let him occupy her fingers for a moment she didn’t let him completely distract her from her task. After a while she found little resistance left in his muscles and just continued to run her hands softly over him, spreading the oil over his skin and feeling him practically melt under her touch.

Eventually he stopped her, and she leaned into his touch and kissed the thumb against her lips. “I haven’t done your back yet,” she pointed out unnecessarily even as she stretched herself out against his side, one arm on his chest and her face hovering over his. “Your shoulders and neck still need some work.”

"In a minute. Just..."

Clint placed his hand on her neck and pulled her close. Her lips were just as soft and warm against his like her hands touching him before. This was all he needed right now, drawing his lips gently over hers, her tender cheek against his rough stubble, her beautiful eyes close enough to drown in them.

He bumped her nose playfully with his and caressed her neck with slowly moving fingertips and just the smallest of pressure, reminding her of that promise of a massage soon. He wondered if he hadn't realized or just put it on the sun so far, that her skin had a slightly red glow to it, especially her cheeks. Somehow he doubted, she had just strained herself that much while working his muscles.

"God, you're so beautiful."

He kissed her cheeks too, long, tenderly, and then her mouth again, and then leaned back again with a sigh. He knew he should roll over and let her continue, but it felt much nicer laying her like that, with her curled into his side.

She thought of playfully protesting, of insisting he let her finish first, but instead found herself sinking into the kiss, relishing in the gentleness, the familiarity. If felt like forever since he had kissed her like this, so tenderly and lovingly, though she knew it had only been the other night. That night felt like an eternity ago.

Smiling when he broke the kiss and nudged her nose with his, she opened her eyes to meet his again when he spoke. It wasn’t an uncommon sentiment, but when he said it she believed it. When he said it she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world, like the only woman in the world, and then he was kissing her again and she nearly purred at all the attention.

When he finally rested back against the pillow, all thoughts of moving had fled her mind and she curled in against his shoulder instead. Paying no attention to the oil on his skin, she kissed his chest softly, her lips lingering long against his skin. “You do know how to make a girl feel special,” she said, her lips turning up in a grin.

Clint didn't tell her that she simply deserved it though it was true, he settled on kissing her forehead instead, and stroking her back softly. There was another of these small harmless shivers where her lips touched his skin, making him sigh softly and pull her even closer.

His other hand came up to play with her hair and trace tender patterns over her cheek and temple. This was heaven after all the pain from the last hours, and he wanted it to last forever. Soon enough his fingertips on her waist slipped around her body and traced her belly again, a lot calmer this time. The fear wasn't gone yet, but now there were also these harmless giddy thoughts on his mind when he touched that certain spot and thought what was there... what would be there soon.

And because his stomach always had the perfect sense for ruining moments, it startled to growl exactly in that peaceful moment. Clint groaned a little and shut his eyes tightly, trying to ignore it but Natasha probably wouldn't. So much for cuddling for hours. Oh well. There still was the night.

Despite everything they had been through these past two days it seemed his body couldn’t help to react to hers. Would that change as her body did? Would she still be able to make him shiver when her belly was big and rounded? And what about in the future when they were both exhausted from nights spent awake with a screaming baby? Best not to think about that now.

His touch was gentle, unhurried, and she lay her cheek against his chest and sighed, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his fingers running through her hair and over her cheek. Soon his hand found her stomach again and while she once again flinched slightly she soon let out a content hum at the touch.

A hum that turned into a laugh when his stomach suddenly broke the piece and serenity with a rather large growl. “Sounds like your stomach is finally protesting its gross mistreatment lately,” she said, playfully running her hand over his stomach this time. “I guess your back will have to wait. I somehow got distracted from my task...”

"It's okay. I can move again. See?"

With Natasha still held safely by his side, Clint sat up and made it nearly without pulling a face. Oh well. The day wasn't over yet. He leaned down for another quick kiss but got up then quickly before temptation could grow too big to lay back down. Cuddling was only half as romantic with a constantly growling stomach.

"So, how's your stomach doing? Any special wishes?"

He tried to stretch out carefully, with one hand propped on the bed-post for leverage. No, not good yet, but a lot better.

Clint managed to get them both sitting up again, but it wasn’t without pain and she gave him a definite “oh, really?” face for his attempt. Maybe while the food cooked she could at least give his shoulders a quick working and finish up after dinner.

Rubbing one hand over her stomach, Natasha considered how she was feeling. “I’m... actually a little hungry,” she discovered. She knew some women made it through their pregnancies without being sick hardly at all, while others were ill the entire nine months. Clearly she wasn’t going to fit into that first category, but maybe she would be lucky enough that her ‘morning sickness’ actually stuck with the mornings and faded later in the day. Pursing her lips to one side she tried to remember what they had bought at the market, but that seemed ages ago, and Clint had done most of the shopping anyhow.

“Do we have enough ingredients to make pizza?” she asked after a moment. Pizza was something they usually just ordered, but the idea of making their own, from scratch, was suddenly very appealing.

"Yep, that will work."

Clint's smile grew. Had they ever cooked together? Sure, throwing a few things for a quick meal on a plate, cleaning up the kitchen... Or warming a kettle of water and throwing a little green stuff, pretending it was soup, while the other collected whatever was left of their supplies... But cooking, just for fun? Because they had time and a nice kitchen to work in and because even for two takeout-junkeys like Natasha and him ordering became tedious after a while? That was new.

"Been a while but I think I still now how to do the dough."

He quickly grabbed a pair of pants and already wanted to reach for a shirt when he thought better and lead the way to the kitchen with a big grin instead. It had been too long since last he had made Natasha laugh. Yep, there it was hanging on the door, a simple dark apron, a little small for him but that made it even more fun. He made a show of wriggling his way inside and binding the loops and cracked his knuckles solemnly.

"The fridge is all yours, red. Cut whatever you want to put on that pizza."

“You know how to make pizza dough?” she replied in disbelief. When it came to preparing breakfast Clint was your man, but beyond that? If he had to cook it Natasha had just always figured him for a meat and potatoes kind of guy. “If you can spin it in the air like they do on television I will certainly be impressed.”

Honestly, she would be impressed if he managed to roll it out in a semi-circular shape after mixing it all up himself. The pair of them weren’t exactly top chefs.

Grabbing a hair tie off the dresser, she tied her hair up in a messy bun as she followed Clint to the kitchen. When he made a show of wriggling into the apron she giggled, her face lighting up at the show. It had been a rough few days, so to see Clint once again acting like his old self, and willing to make himself look ridiculous just to make her smile… it was perfect.

“I get the easy part,” she said, moving to the sink to wash her hands before starting her survey of the fridge.

"Not saying I'm perfect, but I have a very resolute housekeeper, mind you."

Clint grinned to himself in relief when he saw Natasha giggling, something that happened much too seldom. This was good. A little stupid and maybe a little ignorant but it helped them get through the day. They just had to try and keep themselves light and above the surface. Times of fear and worry would come soon enough again.

"Angelina had her wrist sprained in one of these months when I lived here, and I helped her out a little. She insisted on showing me how to do this. Guess she was worried I'd spend too much money in restaurants. Couldn't tell her, it's all on Uncle Sam's bill, you know. And hey, if I fuck up, it's your turn. Or we just buy a cookbook next time we're at the market."

Still chuckling to himself, he began to search for e flour, yeast, salt, oil and sugar in his cupboards and started putting that whole thing together into something solid. He would agree immediately that he wasn't much of a cook but once he overcame his natural laziness in that regard... It did have a certain appeal, working ingredients into something edible between his hands. The dough wouldn't win a beauty prize, but it did the trick.

And in the light of certain developments, it was better to get used to this anyway.

"Probably not a bad idea if we catch up a little on such stuff, huh? I mean... You know."

Natasha loved to hear stories of Clint’s past, of missions he’d been on without her. This was the man she had chosen to give herself to and spend her life with, and it was always nice to learn new things about him.

Chosen might not be the right word there. She had never chosen to fall in love with Clint; in fact she had tried her hardest to deny what her heart clearly already knew. It had happened so gradually she hadn’t even noticed until it was too late, but while she hadn’t chosen to love him she had chosen to take that chance, to finally tell him and commit to him. Even now, even with the situation they found themselves in, she didn’t regret this choice for a moment.

“You sure she hasn’t stashed a few cookbooks around here in hopes you might be struck with the urge to cook for yourself?” she said as she started pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Tomatoes, mushrooms, sausage, pepperoni, cheese, olives… a little bit of everything. She thought she had seen some fresh herbs and garlic around somewhere as well.

She thought about Clint’s words. This was just one of the many changes they were going to face in the future. Would it be so bad to try a little domesticity now? To learn to cook at least a few good meals instead of relying on takeout or whatever was quick?

“I suppose we could make a little more effort. Besides lying on the beach and a little exploring it’s not like we don’t have the time.” And soon enough her beach days would be over. Scars she could easily cover with makeup so they weren’t noticeable to anyone who wasn’t really looking, but a pregnant belly in a bikini was harder to miss.

"We're master spies. I think we should be able to handle it."

Soon enough the dough was ready for Natasha to decorate it however she wanted it and Clint placed the baking tray next to her on the counter with a little blush. No, not perfect but sufficing. Without bothering to wash his flour-covered hands, he put his hands on her hips and rested his chin on her shoulder to peer down at what she was doing and all the nice stuff she had prepared. Slowly he felt his appetite returning instead of just being physically hungry, and he just couldn't resist snatching one of the cheese strings from the chopping board.

Oh, but that was a bad idea, now his stomach really woke up and grumbled for more. He decided to put his mouth to better use and covered Natasha's neck and shoulders with soft kisses instead, completely ignoring the fact that she was still busy.

Natasha fell into an easy rhythm of dicing vegetables and slicing meat. Everything looked and smelled delicious and she could feel her own stomach finally coming around to something more exciting and flavourful than eggs and toast

Clint managed to finish his part first and clearly decided to help her with hers by being far from helpful. Chuckling when his stomach growled again, even louder this time, she popped a mushroom in her own mouth and chewed slowly. Of course he wasn’t content to just watch her work and was soon peppering her skin with soft kisses that made her skin tingle. “Trying to distract me, Barton?” she said, her smile evident in her voice.

"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.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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