study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

They didn’t get a lot of time off together, at least not enough to make a trip away worthwhile, so for this one weekend they decided to stay in the city and play tourist for the day.

They had started with a walk through Central Park before grabbing an early lunch at one of the city’s many street vendors and then wandering through the American Museum of Natural history. Natasha found the Hall of Minerals fascinating while Clint had gotten a kick out of all the dinosaur bones. They both enjoyed laying under the big blue whale with all the normal people.

Afterwards they went to a nice restaurant for supper, blending into the crowd of normal couples as best they could and Natasha actually forgot if she was playing a role or being herself as they finished their wine and shared their desserts.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely as they left the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. Nearby a busker played guitar and sang with surprising melody and soul, barely seeming to notice as people threw change into his open case, so caught up was he in his music. 

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

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

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

"Back in a minute."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A little baby girl, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, don’t take her. Please...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She involuntarily flinched at the touch but didn’t ask him to take his hand away. It became her focal point, her anchor, as she pushed the remnants of her dream away. She focused on the warmth radiating through the thin material of her shirt, on the softest brush of his thumb, on the light weight of his hand against her. When he spoke she concentrated on his voice, on his words, and on the memories they provoked, the good memories brought to light to banish the bad to darkness again.

She remembered her flowers at home that she had insisted on hanging to dry in his apartment while they were gone in hopes that they could be preserved, and the look on his face when he had given them to her. She thought about his dash across the rocks with her held on his back, how she had felt completely safe, never worrying he might drop her or they might fall. With every memory she brought to the forefront of her mind her heartbeat slowed and her breathing grew more even until she finally felt like herself again.

Slowly she rolled onto her back, finally feeling grounded enough to face him. “Thank you,” she whispered, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down for a tender, lingering kiss.

She still looked very pale when she finally looked at him, with a hint of dark circles under her eyes, but Clint hoped, she would be better if they would see a bit of sun and good food later.

For the moment she seemed to have calmed down, the tremble gone, and that was most important. He gladly leaned down when she motioned him too and let his lips rest against hers, light, slow caresses with their noses gently bumping from time to time. His hand had gone from her waist to her belly and rested there, still unmoving. Her breath was slow and calm now, something to orientate himself and let the last remains of his own unease from the night slip away.

With a life like theirs... Such mornings would always happen. There was no way to stop that. They had both experienced and done just too much damage. But as long as they were there for each other when it happened, the day didn't start so bad after all.

"You need anything?", he asked, his lips still close to hers.

It was unlikely she actually would ask him to get her something even if she wasn't feeling well, but it was one of these seldom moments when he couldn't stop himself from trying at least.

Neither of them pushed it, just kept the kisses light and undemanding, the touches gentle. She liked to think that some day they would both be past these nightmares, but in their line of work there were always new ones to replace the old ones, and it was something they would never escape from. At least they had learned to deal with them, and dealing with them together was easier. Had she woken up like this alone she would have laid frozen, her body painfully rigid until she was able to fight away her nightmares herself, and the whole day she would have felt that ache in her muscles until night came again and she had to reluctantly sleep.

Threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, Natasha shook her head slightly at his question. “I’ll be fine, but if you still want to get a run in this morning you better go before it gets too hot.”

Right, running.

Clint sighed without a sound. He didn't mind workout, not at all, in fact physical activity had always been just the balance he needed to deal with the crap happening in his life from early age on. He just wasn't a morning person. But the clocks in southern regions were running differently, the evenings here were for having fun and the days indeed to hot to risk a collapse on the street. If he wanted to stay in shape, he better got his ass up.

The thing that really made him hesitate was Natasha's unstable condition just a few minutes ago. He had to actively remind himself that coddling her wasn't an option.

"I should call you for a kick in the ass more often. They feel nice", he mumbled, reluctantly pushing himself up. "I'll take my phone along, just in case..."

He shrugged lightly and didn't finish the sentence. It was hard to turn off such an instinct, after all. He bent down for another soft kiss before he trotted to the door, still yawning, to change into the light track suit he had brought for such workouts.

There was a little milk left in that bottle that Angelina had stored in the fridge, along with the fruit stuff and a little ham and cheese that Natasha could use up if she needed a snack to get her energy levels up while he was gone. He took the milk outside when he left and filled the empty bowl in the cat's box behind the house. Their little visitor wasn't there but he hadn't expected it to. It still was a stray. The kitten would probably be back if it got hungry.

He still didn't want to go into deep thought how he had ended up with a cat, though. Instead he left the garden, falling into a slow, light jog once he was out on the nearly empty street. Angelina again gave him that knowing little smile when he passed her by, doubtlessly having realized one of her little furry wards had found a new home. He just shrugged, with a sigh. Turned out, life wasn't half as calm and relaxing in his old home as he had thought.

Natasha was both surprised and grateful that Clint didn’t argue, no matter how much he might want to. As glad as she was that he had been there when she woke up, she wanted a few minutes to herself to really assess her well being going into this new day.

“I’m an excellent motivator,” she said, stealing one last kiss before Clint reluctantly got out of bed. She didn’t comment on his unfinished sentence; it would do no good to argue and what hurt could come from a little precaution? “I’ll get ready while you’re gone.”

Smiling against his lips, she watched him leave but waited until she heard the door close behind him before pushing herself up to sit. Taking a sip of the water he had left for her last night, Natasha nibbled on one of the crackers, rubbing her stomach lightly. She still felt nauseous, and while she could go much longer without food, and had in the past, she knew Clint wouldn’t let her get away with it.

She managed to get down about half a dozen crackers and most of the water before she knew she couldn’t handle anymore and keep it down. Crawling out of bed, she hated the weak feeling in all of her muscles but she ignored them, refusing to let anything ruin today.

Grabbing a bikini and another light dress, she moved to the washroom, and while she made the trip without incident, she was a bit alarmed to find a few spots of blood on her panties, the images from her dream coming back to haunt her. “It’s nothing,” she said to herself. It wasn’t exactly unusual; in lieu of a regular cycle like most women had she would get random spotting, but it was months in between. A leftover gift from the Red Room.

Cleaning herself up, she pulled on the suit before giving herself a good once over in the mirror. It didn’t look quite right; the top seemed smaller than it had been when she had first bought it, it didn’t seem to cover as much. Maybe it was her inactivity catching up, and she was putting on a bit of weight in key areas.

“It’s nothing,” she said again before pulling her dress on over the suit. Removing the braid from her hair she combed it out and left it down like Clint liked it before going about the task of trying to cover a bit of the darkness under her eyes and put some colour back in her cheeks.

Clint had found back on his old running route completely by instinct. A few streets going downhill for warming up, then these narrow slippery old stairs that always needed a bit of balancing... Two levels up there, to wake up his thigh muscles, and finally that sprint up the last serpentines to his house. He had expected to get lost in thought again... Running usually was where he cleared his mind, recapped the last days, planned the next and made up important decisions.

Instead he found himself searching for a glimpse of the ocean between roofs and on high points, let the yearning for this calm, powerful beauty take room of bad memories. Watching the dealers build up their stands on the market place in the distance, a few of their kids playing around the boxes... Smiling at the awakening life in a sleepy, harmless village felt so much better than pondering about what dreams of crying minors and blood on his hands meant.

Remember the good things. Let go of the past. It all sounded so easy in theory. On mornings like this, when there was only salty breeze in his heavily working lungs, the tension from yesterday falling out of his muscles with every step, he could sometimes believe it.

When he came back, he was not too surprised to find a certain box behind the box inhabited this time. The - their? No way, just a temporary arrangement - kitten sat on his blanket like a throne and was busy with the milk, a few white drops glistening in its whiskers. It hardly looked up when he reached down to pat its head, safe for that highly satisfied purred he kind of knew already.

"Don't get used to it", he grumbled, but it kind of sounded not half as aggressive as it should.

When had he become so soft again? Another thing he didn't need to look too hard into at this time of the day. Pulling out of that comfortable empty adrenaline zone reminded him, he had other priorities at the moment. His phone hadn't rang - not that he had expected it - but that didn't necessarily mean, everything was okay.

He tried to be quiet when he entered the door, but Natasha really had gotten up in the meantime which was good. She looked a little better, too, though he knew her well enough to tell that she had had a little make up help. She still was beautiful as ever, though, her skin all but radiating in the bright morning light and her hair falling in soft waves down her shoulder. His eyes lingered longer on her dress than absolutely necessary. It seemed to be an especially tight one... Or running in the morning just was really bad for his hormones.

"I kind of feel underdressed for breakfast."

Natasha stood in the kitchen, sipping the remainder of her water, when Clint returned. She let her eyes rake over him as his did the same to her before smiling and tossing him a fresh bottle.

“Then you better get changed,” she said, though the idea of breakfast made her stomach flip over in a very unpleasant way. “How early does the market open?”

She had a beach bag ready to go with water, sunscreen and towels. She hoped to pick up a book or two at the market to add to it, but if they were too early then maybe a quick dip in the ocean before shopping could be just what the doctor ordered.

"Should be another hour at least, probably more. People around here are seldom in a hurry."

Clint shortly glanced over at the clock while he half emptied that bottle, very pleased that at least he wasn't breathing hard anymore, hadn't really the whole time. His condition wasn't off yet, he just had to keep it that way. But for today it was enough, and the only place he wanted to run to right now was the shower.

Rid off dust and sweat and with some at least more street qualified clothes on, he finally felt really awake when he returned. With his body, his stomach was wide awake too, unfortunately. And there wasn't that much of substance left in the fridge. Finally he just snatched himself a few slices of ham to get his system going and withstood temptation to ask Natasha if she had eaten anything, though it didn't really look like she had. She had been in a bad state yesterday and maybe just needed a little time to recover.

"So, stick to the plan? You feel up for a market run?"

Nibbling on his snack, he leaned back against the counter, watching her from the corner of his eyes.

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Natasha Romanoff | The Black Widow

September 2020

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