study_in_scarlet | Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)

Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)

The first few nights were the worst; that initial moment of panic when she awoke alone before remembering where she was and that Clint was thousands of miles away, the emptiness she felt not just in the bed but in her heart when he wasn’t near. Eventually that faded but with each passing day Natasha grew more worried about how he was holding up. How was he coping with the nightmares without her to sooth them away? Was he working himself too hard as a distraction?

More than any of that, though, was that unshakeable expectation that her phone would one day ring and she would be called back with those three words that made her blood run cold and still haunted her dreams.

Barton’s been compromised.

She couldn’t shake the fear, but worse than that was the realisation that the phone call never would come, even if something did happen to him. With Coulson gone, who else would know to call her? Who else knew how important Clint was to her? Sure, many people had their suspicions, but none of them knew for certain because she had never allowed it. She had been so insistent that they keep their relationship secret, and with each passing day it became harder and harder to remember why. Over the years he had become a very important part of her life, the best thing in her life, so why was it so hard to give herself over so completely? What was she so afraid of?

His last words to her ran through her mind constantly, the clear desperation in his voice making it clear that it was something he had been holding back for a long time. He loved her, and he didn’t say it expecting to hear it back, nor did he say it in some last ditch effort to get her to stay, or to stall her for a few more minutes. He said it because he felt it, because he meant it, and because he needed her to know how he felt. There was no manipulation behind the words, only truth.

And she had said nothing in return.

She could argue all she wanted with herself that there hadn’t been time, that the doors had closed and cut off any reply, but ultimately it was a lie. She could have stopped the lift, she could have gone back up or even called him. She could have been a few minutes late getting to the base, but she had just walked away like she always did. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop regretting it.

“...if something did happen and I didn’t say it I’d never forgive myself.” Those were the words that haunted her the most. She knew how he felt, now without question, but she kept her own feelings so guarded, kept them even from herself, that there was no way he could know. What if something happened to him while she was gone? Or to her? She had a lot of time to analyze her own feelings during this mission, but what if she never got to tell him? What if he never knew?

All these thoughts plagued her every waking hour so Natasha threw herself into the mission more than ever. She took more risks, pushed harder than normal. It was dangerous and she very well could have blown the entire mission, but it seemed that luck was on her side. The job was expected to take at least four months.

She finished in three and a half.

Every second felt like a full minute as she sat through her debriefing. Director Fury praised her speed even as he showed disapproval for her recklessness, but in the end it was a mission accomplished and a job well done.

Walking out of his office, Natasha made a beeline for the weapons range. She had asked Agent Hill about Barton’s status, her heart pounding in her chest, and had been beyond relieved to hear that he was currently on base, safe and sound. She could have called him the second the mission was over, but having finished so early she had hoped to surprise him. Of course it also played a factor that if she had called him and received no answer she wouldn’t have known how to handle that.

Stopping just outside the archery range, she took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be expecting her, and while she hadn’t done anything so drastic as shave her head or go blonde, she did look a little different. She hadn’t cut her hair since before their last conversation, and while it hadn’t grown that much in their time apart she had taken the time to straighten out the curls which gave the illusion of extra length. He would probably look just the same, she hoped he would, and after a moment’s pause she pushed the door open and walked in.

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"Yeah, If you'd have had a bear when you were younger I'm sure you'd have gave him a name. That's what people do, name things." Clint vaguely remembered a scruffy looking bear from his childhood. He couldn't exactly remember what he'd called it, or even where it was now, so they were somewhat in the same boat.

He waited for her to finish even if he was jiggling the pizza box on his knees at a rapid pace. When she'd finally returned he grinned at her, eyebrows both raising at the vodka bottle. "Who needs glasses?" She certainly didn't as he watched her take a swig before it was pushed into his hands.

Her idea of Vodka was like drinking paint stripper. Really, but whatever, he'd take whatever he could get. Taking a mouthful and trying not to cringe at the burn in the back of his mouth and throat, aiming to dull it with the taste of pizza which is why he set the vodka bottle on the night stand and reached for a slice.

"So tell me, if this leading up to the best homecoming ever? Pizza, clean sheets, a mini hawk and vodka?"

Natasha could certainly play the classy lady when she wanted to, or needed to as was more often the case, and nobody would have even an inkling that she wasn’t that way all of the time. That wasn’t really her, though; she was much more at home eating greasy pizza rather than caviar and slugging vodka straight out of the bottle over champagne from a crystal flute.

She watched Clint as he took a drink, a smile teasing the corner of her lips. She could tell he was trying so hard not to pull a face and he actually accomplished it pretty admirably. She knew vodka wasn’t his favourite, especially the stuff she bought, but he never complained.

“I can’t quite think of any better at the moment,” she replied. It certainly beat her last homecoming, not that she really considered it that. She had been pulled out of her mission and sent straight to India before returning to New York, and considering the circumstances behind it all she preferred not to think about it too much. Chewing her pizza thoughtfully, she suddenly gave him mock suspicious look. “Wait... leading up to? Have you got something else up your sleeve, Barton?”

Clint had seen her play classy. He’d been the one to zip up her dress, watch her paint her lips, and watch through the windows while she romanced people and sipped expensive wines and champagnes and seduced every single person in the room. She was spectacular, though he preferred to see her like this. Not afraid to get pizza grease or tomato sauce all around her mouth, swigging from the bottle. Here she was his Natasha, not some false alias.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having such a great time.” He grinned, devouring the slice of pizza in a heartbeat while his foot nudged hers softly. “I meant, the day is still young, there’s still a lot of time left..” He shrugged. No he had no other serious plans except to press into her and try to steal some of the air out of her lungs.

“What else would you like to do today? This is your ‘welcome home’ party afterall..”

That was true, it was still early, probably far too early in the day to be drinking already but Natasha wasn’t one to care about things like that. Besides, she could always claim jetlag or something.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think we’re doing pretty well just playing it by ear,” she said. Finishing her slice of pizza, she wiped her hands on the towel before moving a little closer, her chest pressing against his arm, one arm moving behind his back... where she proceeded to snatch the bottle of vodka back from where he’d put it on the beside table. Pulling away, she grinned at Clint before taking a swig. “Like you said, it’s early yet.”

Not that she didn’t want to just tear his clothes off and have her way with him then and there, but there was still a lot hanging over her heard, a lot of words that needed to be said, and this time she wasn’t going to lie to him or make him wait. Maybe he had decided that he never should have told her how he felt, and maybe he was glad she seemed to have forgotten about it, or was at least pretending it had never happened... or maybe it was on his mind as much as it was hers but he thought she didn’t want to talk about it. She knew Clint, and while she hadn’t seen his face when he’d said it she had heard the sincerity in his voice. She would bet any money on the latter.

Lowering the bottle, Natasha turned her eyes to the pizza as if contemplating her next piece. “Best homecoming ever,” she said, rolling the bottle between her hands. “The send off wasn’t too bad either...”

Clint wasn’t going to complain about how early she’d cracked out the vodka, he had nothing to complain about. She was here, she didn’t seem to be avidly trying to avoid him, they had vodka, pizza and yeah, Clint was pretty happy with himself.

“Yeah, who needs a plan huh?” He grinned, licking his fingers clean of excess tomato sauce, about to lean for another slice when she pressed herself against him and he watched her carefully out the corner of his eyes. The vodka, she was after the bottle, yeah, okay. “Yeah early… I know you can drink like a fish, but go easy, after all, it is early.” He grinned, snatching up another slice of pizza.

He had thought she’d forgot who was trying to block it out. But that wasn’t in the forefront of his mind right now, he was just genuinely glad to have her back by his side. It had all been sincere, there had been no ulterior motives to him declaring his love for her, it had been too late for her to call it off and what had he expected? For her to stop the elevator and come back after she’d brushed off their conversation about normalcy? No, it had torn him up but he got her reservations.

He almost choked on the bite he’d taken as he looked back to her and managed to drop the toppings onto the towel, scolding himself internally as he picked up the mess and scraped it off his fingers back into the box, now staring at a slice of dough covered in sauce. “Oh? Well I’m glad my performance was up to scratch..” Yes he was talking about the sex, because honestly he wasn’t sure where she was going and since he was so great at putting his foot in things he decided to go for the only thing other than his declaration he could think of. Yeah.

“I think the homecoming will be better though…”

“I could drink this entire thing and still barely feel it,” she bragged, but even so she put the cap on the bottle and just set it on the bed within easy reach of both of them. Of course she had taken one last sip before doing so, but still.

She had hoped to ease into the conversation; start with a very obvious hint and see where he took it. She hadn’t expected him to almost choke in reply. Placing a hand on his back and rubbing it gently, she waited until he recovered, but apparently he hadn’t quite gotten where she had been going, or was at least pretending he hadn’t.

This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

“Up to scratch? Don’t tell me you learned modesty while I was gone,” Natasha teased him. She could just jump right in with both feet like he had done before she left, but this entire idea was terrifying enough as it was, and she didn’t have an excuse to run off if it all went south.

“You might be right,” she said, though her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to work out her next step. Unsure what to say, she grabbed another slice of pizza and took a bite. She hoped he was right. When it came to the send off the sex part had definitely been amazing, but there had also been the emotional roller coaster they had both been riding on. The tension in the kitchen, the fight when she had told him she was leaving, the absolute desperate want to stay together... the homecoming had to be better unless she just absolutely messed up everything she wanted to say.

"I know you can..." He smirked, nudging her softly. Yes she could drink him under the table, then again that's what you get trying to drink with a Russian. Clint was sure they had vodka flowing through their veins anyway.

No her hand hadn't helped, just left a trail of heat where she'd rubbed and jesus no, this wasn't going to work because he already wanted to pull her into his lap and show her how much he'd missed her. Play dumb, it was easier.

"I've learnt a lot since you were gone.." He picked at his naked slice and sighed, dumping it into the box. His stomach was hurting and it had nothing to do with the pizza or how hungry he was. He grabbed for the discarded vodka bottle and drank back a good measure, and yes he did wince after that one.

He was ignoring that emotional rollercoaster. The fight wasn't worth talking about because it was about times gone by, all of it was. That awkward air was settling again and Clint wasn't sure what to say to make it better. He wasn't sure if he could make it better by saying something, so he reached for another slice of pizza, carefully making sure he didn't lose the toppings from this one, unless she was about to throw another curveball at his face.

He switched between the slice and the bottle balanced between his legs, finally screwing the cap back on after his throat was burning and his head a little on the fuzzy side. Not enough food to be downing straight gulps of vodka like a fish.

"I know what you meant.." He said softly, finally. "And.. I don't expect anything back so it's cool.."

She knew he was just throwing back a light comment to match hers, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was true, and if he had learned a lot, what exactly had he learned? It became instantly clear, though, when he grabbed the vodka that putting off this talk wasn’t going to work. She watched him down a good amount and she watched him wince, but she couldn’t seem to tease him about it like she would have even just a few minutes ago.

She had set them on this path and now there was no turning back.

They ate in silence with Clint adding a lot of drinking into the equation as well and Natasha not even trying to steal the bottle back. The silence was heavy and awkward again and god she hated it but she didn’t know how to start. She had never been good with the whole ‘feelings’ thing, so she was beyond grateful when Clint finally broke the silence, broached the topic and gave her her opening.

“I know you don’t,” she said; it was simultaneously one of his best and worst qualities, how he was willing to give her whatever she thought she needed even if it tore him apart in the process. “but it’s not ‘cool’. You deserve better.”

Tossing her half eaten crust back into the box, she turned on the bed to face him. “I need to say something, and I need you to just listen, okay?

His gaze shifted at her words, catching her eyes and holding them. Yeah he probably did deserve better but he didn't want that, he wanted her, whether she loved him back or not, well, he'd get over that. It would take time but he'd move past it.

He wanted to say that, opened his mouth to attempt to but she was still talking and facing him and dear god they were going to have this talk. She was going to tell him he was a fool, that she didn't want that, that she didn't appreciate it. His head made up a hundred and one negative reactions and it made him not want to listen.

Yet he swallowed back the lump in his throat and chewed on the last bit of his pizza and nodded. "Okay, I'm listening."

This was it. She was going to let him down gently and he was going to sit there and not say a word.

She had his full attention now and it was completely terrifying. She had had months to think about what she would say when she saw him again, but everything she had planned escaped her now that the time was finally here. There was only one thing she could do.

She had to just close her eyes and speak from the heart.

“When I married Alexei it wasn’t my choice,” she started, and once the words started they just kept going. “The marriage was arranged and I did what I was told. I never questioned it.”

This wasn’t anything Clint didn’t already know; what he hadn’t read in her file years ago she had told him since. She had never gotten into the details, though. Even though she had turned to face him, and she continued her story she dropped her eyes to her hands. It would be easier if she didn’t look at him.

“The marriage had been set up, but I grew to love him anyway.” It still hurt to talk about it more than a decade later; some wounds never healed. “I loved him, and when he was killed I was devastated and decided I was never going to let myself be that vulnerable again. Love was for the innocent and naive and I was neither of these things. It was a luxury I didn’t deserve so I shut it out.”

He knew how the rest of that story went. After Alexei’s death she had gone rogue, using the skills the Red Room had given her to do her own jobs. She sold herself out to the highest bidder and she didn’t care what she had to do for it. That was how SHIELD had caught wind of her, and it was why they had sent Clint after her.

“You did more than spare my life that day. You saved me,” Natasha forced herself to look at him now. “You saved me from myself. Since then you’ve trusted me, believed in me and... you’re the most important thing in my life, Clint.”

Her chest felt tight, her throat dry, and as much as she tried to ignore it she could feel her eyes starting to burn. “You... when I thought...” she was losing it, her words were failing her. She had to just say it. “I loved Alexei, but what I feel for you is so much stronger.”

He was patient, he listened, but it hurt. He hurt for her.

He knew her past, he'd been the one they'd sent her files to, he'd been the one to hunt her done, he'd watched her break in half and he'd made a call off his own back. He'd chose to save the wreck and help rebuild it.

He knew her past, but knowing and experiencing it were two different things. He had no sickening love story, just handfulls of countless women he'd gone through during his time being a traitor and trying to reform.

Clint waited until she was finished, took a deep breath and had to take a moment to realise what she'd said before he was moving, turning his body to face her, hand reaching for hers to interlink their fingers, his other hand moved to her cheek, swiping a thumb under one red eye and bit his lip.

"You saved yourself. You wanted it as much as I didn't want to kill you. You made the call to come with me, you put your life in the hands of a man you'd only just met, one who was on order to destroy you." He paused, let his hand drop from her cheek to her knee, squeezing it softly.

"Listen, all of that, it's the past and we can't change that, no matter how hard you wish you could, there's nothing you can do. But this.." He nodded down to their hands, flexing his fingers softly. "This is your future if you want it."

She hadn't said it back, not that one word but what she had said made his heart pound against his ribcage. "I love you, everything about you and.. I tried to stop myself from falling that deep because I knew you wouldn't accept it but, it was too late, by the time I realised it it was too late and I couldn't do anything about it." He shifted closer, his hand moving from her knee back to her face, cupping her cheek in his hand as he ran his tumb along her skin softly. "I love you Tasha.. completely and stupidly in love with you."

She leaned into his touch, missing it already when he dropped his hand, but his fingers were still entwined with hers and she held on tightly.

“You gave me a choice. I didn’t get a lot of those in my life,” she said, her free hand moving to grasp his shirt at the side of his waist, fisting the material in her hand. She had been little better than a soulless machine, built to do whatever she was told and never once did she disobey. Clint had given her the choice, to live or to die, to try a new life or give up all together. Even in her state of grief she had never been one to give up.

The thing about Natasha was that even though she had done so many horrible things in her life she didn’t waste her time with regret. She didn’t wish to go back and change things, she only wished to atone however she could now. Her past was a part of her and she clung to what memories she had, but she preferred to live in the present. Only now was she realising there was also the future to look forward to.

She did want it, she did want to be with him, but before she could form the words he was talking again. He was telling her he loved her, again and again, and she felt her heart hammering and her breath becoming shorter but... she wasn’t afraid anymore. Love didn’t have to be a luxury only the child she had been could afford. It didn’t have to be a weakness nor a fantasy. Love could be real, even for someone like her.

She moved her hand to the side of his face as well, unable to stop herself from leaning forward to kiss him. She kissed him briefly, twice, three times; she didn’t have the breath to make it longer, he had taken her breath away. Maybe she could do the same. “I love you too.”

He didn't say anything, just carefull squeezed her hand, letting her scrunch up his shirt. If it kept her grounded and helped her then he'd let her do almost anything.

Her kisses were almost confirmation, he lost count quickly with the warm feeling settling inside of his head. A mixture of what was going to be, and the vodka. And then she just had to go and say it, the real confirmation. Those four little words made this a blissful moment and jesus he wondered if he was dreaming. Wonder if he'd wake up any moment and it would be day one, and he'd be alone, cold and shaking.

But no, this appeared real, from her firm weight, to the way he nudged his nose into hers with a smile creeping onto his lips. One he knew for a fact wouldn't wash off for a while, a damn long while.

He dropped her hand, lifted both of them up to press against her face, lips finding hers easily and jesus, he clung on because he had to. He wanted to roll her over, press against her and just hold her close but this was new for them both and hell, he was far too pleased with how the situation had gone down. he broke the kiss, almost left breathless but everything because yes, she really had taken his breath away.

"I promise, I'm not going to leave you." He didn't know that, he couldn't make that promise but jesus if there was a choice whether to walk the earth forever or 'move on' he'd take the former option. "I can't even, describe how.." No, his brain had gone and he was suddenly struggling to find the right words to say, but his mind was blank. "Tasha, I can't even tell you how, how happy this makes me." Jesus at this rate his eyes would get all red and watery and he had nothing to blame it on except for the flood of emotion crashing into him like a wave. And relief, jesus so much relief.

This was the kiss she had been longing for since she’d gotten back; hell, it was the kiss she had dreamt of since she left. They had said a lot in the past few minutes, and the kiss only elaborated on it until she wasn’t sure she’d ever breathe again. For so long she had deprived herself of love; she had built a wall around her heart that was supposed to be impenetrable, but Clint had torn it down, brick by brick, she had just been too scared to acknowledge it. Now that she had, though; now that she realised what she had been hiding from and let herself love him she felt like she was drowning in it, drowning in him.

She knew he was making promises he couldn’t keep but she didn’t care, she understood the sentiment behind it. He would never leave her by choice, and that promise she would accept even if she didn’t say it. She was having a hard time saying anything right now, and it seemed so was he. In the end, though, he got the words out. He was happy. No, better than that: she had made him happy. Natasha knew she made him happy in the past, but as their relationship grew more serious she didn’t realise until that last night they were together just how miserable she made him as well. She never wanted to do that to him again. He wanted more than she had been ready to give, but he had been willing to accept that just to be with her, willing to give up everything he wanted just to have her. No more.

She kissed him again, still breathless and needy, before wrapping her arms around his neck and just pulling him close, just wanting to hold him, to be close to him. “Good,” she said. “I want you to be happy.” More than that she wanted to make him happy. Maybe she wasn’t as willing as him to give up everything for his happiness, that way only led to resentment; but she was willing to meet him halfway. She was through being a taker; if they were really going to make this work, and god she wanted to, then she had to give more than a little as well.

She missed the biggest point of all, one he'd been trying to stress for a very long time. He was never truely miserable, on the surface maybe but happiness always won out in the end. "Natasha, you've always had that. You've made me happy for years."

It was the truth. For all the little arguments, for everything he wished he could say but kept under lock and key, for all the times he'd sat and wondered what the point was or where they were going he had still be happy. Happy because she'd reformed him just like he had her, happy because she'd become his closest friend and he hadn't ever truely had many of those in his life, happy because she trusted him, because she wanted his company. Happy because she was his home, and for a man who never had a stable upbringing there was nothing finer than that.

He didn't want her to give up everything, that would change her, he didn't want her to change, not for him nor for anybody else. He dropped hands to her waist, careless of the pizza now considering it was no longer a high priority, but far more concerned with how close he could pull her into his body.

"Thank you," The words were mumbled into her hair as he held her close and let her take what she needed. He had to thank her, for everything she'd done, for never giving up on him, for wanting to be with him and for trying, all for him.

She wanted to believe him, and maybe it was true, but she couldn’t help but feel that more recently he had been hiding just how miserable he had been. She had definitely hurt him their last night together by not being willing to talk about going public with their relationship, and by hiding her assignment from him until it was down to hours before she left. Maybe she couldn’t fix how that had all gone down, but in the end it had led to this moment and from now on she could be better.

“I”m happier with you than I’ve ever been,” she said, wanting to give him something but also because it was true. There wasn’t a time in her life that she had been more sure of herself, more confident of who she was; there wasn’t a time she had ever been happier. With Clint she could be herself because he loved her for who she truly was, not who she was pretending to be or even who she thought she was. She was happy, and she attributed much of that directly to him. What he was thanking her for, though, she wasn’t certain. If anyone should be grateful it was her, and not just because he had let her live all those years ago, but because he had shown her how to live and have given her so much worth living for.

The pizza and vodka were long forgotten, and when he tried to pull her closer Natasha did her best to comply. It was difficult with how they were sitting, their legs got in the way, so she gently pulled them over with a mumbled “come here” until they lay on their sides. She tangled her legs with his, one between his and the other draped over his hip, and pressed closer, tucking her head under his chin. “Best homecoming,” she muttered against his chest.

He shuffled with her, every movement seemed so insignificant but Clint's heart was still beating too hard for his chest and he felt like he'd been sent off to a limbo world where normalcy was their thing. He had been miserable, miserable that he couldn't show their friends how happy she made him, miserable that he couldn't profess to the world that the red head was his. That was his misery, but now maybe things would change. Small changes, tiny little things that would shift their dynamic towards a better future for both of them, and as a partnership.

He let her shift him however she wanted, moved his legs so she could slide one between his. One hand reached under the cover to rest on the leg hooked over his hip. Clint held her close, free hand trailing fingers softly through her hair, untangling small knots here and there as he went. "You're telling me.. this has probably been my favourite day." He smiled although she couldn't see, smiled because he was happy. There'd be misery, there'd be arguments, but the fact that she'd confessed what her heart said was enough to see him through whatever lay ahead.

"Y'know, I thought you were gonna tell me to get lost. I expected the worst but this, this is perfect Tasha. I know this is a big gamble, but we'll get through anything and everything together." Thick as thieves.

Smiling at his words, Natasha closed her eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. In Clint’s arms was where she belonged; she felt relaxed, safe… she felt like she was home.

As comfortable as she was, though, she couldn’t help but wonder… what now? Did they just continue on as they always had? Did they go seek out the others and tell them? She wasn’t big on public displays of affection, she felt there were some things better kept to themselves, some things she didn’t want to share, but at the same time she wanted to give him more. Maybe it was best to not plan anything and just let it happen naturally.

Pulling back enough that she could look at him, Natasha’s brow pinched together slightly. She wanted to ask why he would think that, but she probably didn’t want to hear the answer. She had been so closed off, so insistent they keep their relationship a secret, and had always changed the subject when he tried to talk about anything deeper than the surface. It was understandable that he would think she’d run, but didn’t he realise she was lost without him? One hundred and seven days; that was how long she had had to contemplate his declaration and decide what she wanted to do about it, and in all honesty the time away was probably a good thing. Had she had to answer him right away things might have gone very differently, and his fears might have been realised. As it was she had one hundred and seven days to miss him, to think about him and what he meant to her; she had the space and the time to analyse her own feelings and decided what to do about them. The mission had really been a blessing in disguise, even if she might never admit that aloud.

“Good thing I like to gamble,” she said, moving her hand up to brush over his cheek and along his jaw. “I didn’t finish the mission early because it was easy,” she admitted, but didn’t elaborate, instead relying on him to fill in the blanks.

He did expect her to run, he expected it to be brushed under the carpet. Yeah, she'd had so long to contemplate it, but this could have all gone the wrong way the minute she got back. Clint had replayed a hundred times in his head how she'd react, how she could respond and the admittance was at the bottom of the pile, mainly due to her dodging everything he did to try and move them along. He'd have been happy to continue on as they were if he hadn't have opened his mouth, because that was admitting it to himself just how much she meant to him, just how lost he'd be without her in return.

If it wasn't for her he'd be dead, or still doing Loki's bidding, but probably dead. He'd never been so happy to admit that Natasha was just better at hand to hand than he was.

Her words made his own features curve into a frown, her silently admitting that she'd put herself at risk just to get the job done. That's what he took from that statement anyway, and he'd believe it.
"No more.." He nodded, leaning in to kiss her softly, hand trailing fingers along her leg slowly. "No more risks unless I'm watching your back.."

The same also went for him, not that Clint took risks, he stuck to the dark of the shadows and watched.

"Now that I've got you I don't want to lose you.."

Natasha wasn’t sure why she had felt the need to tell him that she had taken some unnecessary risks just to complete her mission early, except for the fact that she did it so she could get back to him, back to this, sooner. She wondered if he knew her reasoning, if he had figured it out, or if he just thought she had taken risks to avoid her own thoughts, to push herself harder.

“I just wanted to get back to you,” she said against his lips when he pulled back from the kiss, her eyes still closed. Shivering slightly under his touch, her own fingers trailed up into his hair, threading the short strands between them. “You won’t lose me,” she said, and she felt as sure of that answer as could possibly be, maybe even a little more than she should be.

Finally opening her eyes again, his own blue ones were so close she could have fallen into them. “I can’t guarantee Fury won’t still send me on some solo missions,” she explained. “But no more deep cover, that much I swear.” She was one of SHIELD’s best agents; they would not defy her wishes completely. She could just as easily leave them high and dry.

Clint hummed softly, unable to keep that damn smile off his face. He never dreamed of this, couldn't believe that she'd turned it around and told him she loved him. It was still sinking in, still like a blissful dream, one he never wnated to wake up from.

His smile widened at her words, "I'm glad you're back early." He mumbled, softly against her lips. He was, without her he'd fall apart. Sure he'd coped, but only because he threw himself into anything and everything to take his mind off her, to forget that she'd ignored his admittance, to forget she'd just left him high and dry with no way of knowing how she'd reacted. "Good, don't know what I'd do without you.."

He didn't care about the solo missions as much, it happened. They both had different skill sets no matter how much they tried to stick together they each could do things the other couldn't. It was the deep cover, the lack of communication, the lack of seeing each other, hearing each other. That's what got him the most. "I'll take that deal.."

Then again, it was already obvious Clint would take any deal so long as he still got to have her like this. He moved quickly to pull away from her, although that took it's toll as he already missed the scent of her skin. But still, he had to remove this greasy pizza box from his lap. He sat up, bundling the towel up and dumping them both on the floor before returning quickly to her, hands pulling her softly ontop of his body. "Does this mean I can start calling you those cutesy pet names?"

Natasha was glad he didn’t push the subject; she’d had enough berating from Director Fury about her reckless behaviour. Instead Clint’s chosen words warmed her heart and she kissed him softly again. She didn’t know what she would do without him either, and she hoped to never find out. Of course she would carry on, she always did, but it would be miserable; colourless, tasteless... the world seemed more vivid just having him in it.

The solo missions would be good for them every once in a while. They couldn’t come to completely rely on one another; if they did that, that was the moment they would have to dissolve their partnership. They could never let their feelings cloud their judgement nor distract them from the mission. They had to still be able to work on their own or with others. As long as they could still be in contact then that was easy to accomplish.

Whining in protest when he suddenly pulled away, Natasha mourned the loss of his body heat immediately, but he was only gone for a few seconds to unceremoniously drop the box of pizza on the floor before returning to her arms. He also wasted no time in pulling her up to lay on top of him, an action she almost laughed at. This position was how they had spent the majority of their last night in bed together, and she suspected that this was actually his favourite, having her draped over him like a human blanket.

“No,” she answered, feigning sternness. “But you can start showing me just how much you missed me, unless you had other plans for the afternoon and wanted to save it all up for tonight.” Grinding her hips against his just slightly, she raised an eyebrow in question.

No, becoming dependent entirely on each other would take their relationship to a level that would turn their lives upside down. It would mean leaving Shield, it would mena having to get an honest job and Clint is anything but a spotless, honest man. It was Shield until he bit the dust, he was not made for pushing paper behind a desk working a shitty 9-5 job.

This was his favourite. She was warm, he got to hold her close and smooth hands over every curve and ridge of her ribs, hook his hands around her hips and hold onto her as if she was his life buoy. Which she was.
Clint smiled up at her, hands indeed returning to her sides, letting her hips moved under his fingers which were straining to grip her and hold her right over the growing problem in his pants.

"I have no plans, none at all. You're my plan." He pushed back a groan at the contact because jesus, it had been too long. Wrapping one hand behind her neck, stroking fingers through her hair, feeling it slip through his fingers like silk. She was truely beautiful, from her vivid hair all the way down to her delicate toes, toes he'd seen crush a mans wind pipe. "I cna show you how much I missed you, and how much I love you." He tried it out, tested the careless on his tongue and it felt far too good to keep to himself, hence why he pulled her down softly until lips met hers and yeah, he was a goner, with hips arching up into hers and hands tangling into her hair.

Edited 2013-02-19 00:29 (UTC)

The feel of his fingers running down her sides before digging into her hips was enough to make her want to take any option that removed them from this bed completely off the table. One hundred and seven days certainly was far too long. She had gone much longer in her life, but not since hooking up with Clint. He had gotten into her system, like a drug, and the closer they grew, the deeper her feelings became for him, the move she craved him. Had things not been so awkward between them when she returned, had he not said what he had before she left, she probably would have dragged him into a utility closet back at SHIELD headquarters and had her way with him right then and there. The fact that it had taken them this long after being reunited just proved how important their talk had been, and how things had changed between them.

Not all change had to be bad.

“I like this plan,” Natasha replied as he ran his fingers gently through her hair. Of course he couldn’t let it go with just missing her; he had to tell her he loved her again, and while it made her heart beat faster and her stomach tighten she didn’t say it back this time. It had taken a lot for her to admit it once, and they simply weren’t words she would be so liberal with, even if they were true. Fortunately he didn’t said long for a response, pulling her down into a kiss instead, so instead she poured those feelings into the kiss; she was much better at show than tell. Pressing her hips into his again as he met her halfway, she slipped a hand down between them to slip under his shirt, her fingers sliding along his well defined muscles. 

Clint decides very quickly that yes, he wants to relearn every inch of her body. It's been too long and he's desperate to wrap himself up in her. Screw her until they both can't breath and then roll her over to go through the motions all over again.

He'd latched onto that word as if she wouldn't believe him. He knew she did, she'd had too long to dwell on it and Clint knows Natasha did dwell on it.

The kiss is everything he wanted. She doesn't need to say it over and over like a mantra, the fact she'd said it once was enough to mend all the hurt in his heart that one word had caused so long ago.

He rolls them over, lips meeting her neck, nuzzling himself into her skin and taking in her familiar smell. He's missed it. Things hadn't been the same without her wandering around like the ghost she is, noticable only by the smell of her shampoo or her soaps.

He reaches to pull his shirt off, defined muscles a littlemore prominant than before she left from the weights he'd forced himself to push, from the running and the climbing and the strain of forcing her out of his mind. "Plans are good, we like plans. I like your plans, you like some of mine. Win win." His words are hurried as if this is the last night they'd spend together again.

Really he's just pushing away that tiny fear that in the morning when she'd spent a full night in her own bed she would push him away and tell him she'd made a mistake.

Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)

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