russianchildatprayer | What's left of us (for broken

What's left of us (for broken_arrow)

The fire is spreading fast. The gamemaker wastes no time blowing up his arena, now that the winner stands.

She should be in the elevator already. The heat is unbearable, scorching the small hair of her arms where her uniform has torn, and stinging in countless ulcerous open wounds.

This one will scar.

There is no reason to linger. The other four are dead, she’s made very sure of that. Some put up a fight and suffered more than she would have wanted. But by now they all made it. They’re all relieved off what Dreykov still politely likes to call life.

All but one.

She could still end it. Her guns have drowned in that acid pool on the first day already and her last knife is stuck to the hilt in his liver. She can’t near him again if she doesn’t want to end up like him after all. But there’s enough rocks around. Worst case, she’ll burn her fingers while smashing his skull, before he has to suffer much worse pain.

The thick iron of the artificial walls, the faded layers of grass bred miles under the surface, just for this one purpose of yet another natural selection for Dreykov’s likes… All is glowing with the flames closing in around her. She can feel the hairs on her neck rise, smoking from the heat.

Still she keeps the door of the elevator open with her good arm, refusing to let it carry her to safety, to care, to the proud shimmer in Dreykov’s eyes and another nightmare to come by.

She shortly wonders if she should try take him with her. Maybe they’ll show mercy for once. He’s stood against her until the very last minute, after all. And even in that last fight she’s been nothing but lucky. It could be her bleeding out on the ground just a few meters away now.

She could try but the girl who’s been trained since before she even had been able to understood why and for what, knows better. The elevator won’t move if she drags him along with her. The doors won’t even close.

Only the strongest survive.

She’s been praying that he’ll pass out in these terrible few seconds of uncertainty, of trying to make a decision that’s long been made for her. She should know better. If a God exists, he has never taken particular interest in her life.

He turns to her, and she can see his eyelids are on fire. His lips form words that she can’t hear with one eardrum ruptured since day 3 and the rising noise of trees falling, barrels exploding, rocks crashing.

Maybe she’ll be able to tell herself for a while that he wants her to run.

But the part of her that turns away and takes the elevator to safety because there’s never been another way for her, knows better.

His last words were that he’ll find her.

She wishes, he could. Probably that’s why she left him alive. For the smallest chance that he’ll come for her, this time without making a stupid mistake. That he’ll be the one to finally put an end to it.

Only there’s no way he’ll make it out of there. There is no way out. They have made sure.

She won’t sleep better with that knowledge on her mind but that isn’t the point. Nightmares of seeing her lover burn to death is the easiest punishment she can wish for.

***************

Nightmares were hardly a rarity since Washington, but this was the first time Natasha awoke screaming. Still caught up in too bright, too detailed pictures burning behind her closed eyes, she realized too late that she was far too close to the edge of the bed. Before her instincts could kick in, she went to the floor, tangled in sweat stained sheets and landed on the very same shoulder that desperately needed a timeout anyway.

And that had been the last fucking time to take painkillers before going to sleep.

After she could breathe without wincing out in pain again, she left the bedroom to put together some kind of breakfast and a new load of meds. A postcard in her mailbox immediately made her forget about patching up that shoulder new. She couldn’t help but wonder how Steve had found her. It seemed, she had taught him better than she had realized.

Sam and him hadn’t found anything yet, that amateurishly coded card said. He wanted to know if she was okay. Saying they could use a hand. Sure they could.

He was stubborn, she had to give him that. She wondered if he’d still be once he found out the rest about her, all the stuff that was openly out in the world after Washington. And he would. Once they found Barnes and he would go back to a normal life… Steve would get to know the whole truth about her, sooner or later. There probably wouldn’t be postcards with smileys on them then anymore.

Time for another relocation, it seemed. She had waited for weeks, something that was far too dangerous anyway, and by now all hope was gone that at least a message of Clint might eventually catch up with her here. Hell, there was no telling if he was even still alive. Maybe the buzz out there had at least died down enough by now to try and find out that. The nightmares wouldn't go away from sitting and lying around in apathy much longer, that was for sure.

Ignoring her slightly dizzy condition, due to a few days without enough food, as much as the new warm, wet spots staining the bandage under her shirt, Natasha went back to the bedroom to pack her things. If Steve had found out where she was, chances were too big that someone else would too, to linger much longer.

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If he’d still been moving her look would have frozen him on the spot. She had managed to get the fire going, though it was far from roaring, but as it sparked behind her he found himself missing her red hair and how it would be positively glowing in the firelight.

Her reassurance was all it took to make him breathe again. She was here, and she was staying here, with him. She wasn’t going anywhere.

She looked so inviting sitting on the rug near the warm fire, and he wanted to go for her, so it was with an almost pained expression that he held up one hand. “Just gimme two minutes,” he said before making a beeline to the bathroom. He was done and out in less.

He moved quickly across the main living space, holding the blanket tight around him before lowering himself carefully onto the fur beside Natasha. “Sleep alright?” he asked, unsure how long she had been awake.

"No screaming and falling out of bed this time", Natasha confirmed matter of factly. "It's nice... to be home. Not sleep alone anymore."

She sneaked her hand under that blanket to caress Clint's thigh, only to find his skin colder than it should be. Immediately she moved closer to him, turning to snuggle into his side, get his legs resting on hers to share some body heat. A cold was the last thing either of them needed right now.

"What about you?"

She took his chin softly to turn his head, examine these shadows under his eyes that had frightened her so much yesterday. He looked a little better, at least, but she still wasn't used to that scruffy beard scratching her skin.

"Mind if I cut that down a little?"

She brushed her fingertips through the short strands of facial hair and leaned in for a quick kiss.

There’s a whole lot in those few sentences that Clint isn’t sure how much to read into. First there’s the flippant way she spoke of her previous night terrors. This isn’t surprising, he knew about her nightmares and could only imagine how much worse they must have gotten the past few weeks, but somehow being here with him had soothed them, even if only for one night.

More than that, though, was that one word: home. What exactly did she mean by that? Did she mean back in this house? No, he knew that wasn’t it. It wasn’t about the location, home had nothing to do with four walls and a roof. Home was where she didn’t have to sleep alone, where she didn’t have to be alone because there was someone there who understood, someone to share the pain with. Maybe this house could be a home, but it was only because he was there.

Damn, he really hoped he was reading too much into that.

He let her maneuver his body until they were snuggling close, not quite a tangle of limbs but close to it, and wrapped the blanket around the both of them again like he had last night.

“Slept like the dead,” he replied, though that probably wasn’t the best terminology to use right now. “Better than I have for weeks, since, you know... the last time.” He gave a short one-shouldered shrug. He slept better with her than he did on his own, especially after the Loki thing. Her presence had some sort of soothing effect on him. Maybe it was just the knowledge that he wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t sure he liked how she was examining him, though, but when she spoke he chuckled. “What, you don’t like the mountain man look?” he asked before pulling her close and rubbing his facial hair against her neck in a teasing manner.

Natasha keened a little when his beard tickled her sensitive skin put placed her hand on his neck to keep him right there as long as he wanted anyway. It felt much too nice to be that close to him again, to snuggle, be silly and tender with each other after all this time of violence and fear.

"Don't mind the beard. Makes you look all wild and manly and stuff", she chuckled, gently running her hand up and down his back. Her damaged arm rested on his legs, just on that side of too close to his crotch to tease him back.

Of course that beard stuff was nothing to be really amused about, it was just as much a cover as her hair and better stayed for now. But that didn't mean she should allow Clint to go all sloppy on himself. The sooner they tried to go back to some at least half-normal routine and pull their minds out of this state of shock, the better.

"It's just hell lot sexier if you don't have birds nesting in there."

A chuckle rumbled low in his chest at the noise she made, but when she held him in place he stopped rubbing his chin against her and just rested his head on her shoulder instead.

“Exactly the look I was going for,” he said, closing his eyes and just letting himself enjoy the closeness for a moment. It had been far too long since he’d had any friendly contact let alone been this close to anyone and he wanted to soak up every moment of it.

The beard was a cover, but he hadn’t done so much as trim it for weeks. He figured nobody would give a second look to some scruffy guy who looked like he’d just rolled out of the ditch, or at least that was what he’d told himself. It was partially true, but there was also the element of having enough other stuff to worry about and having no interest in taking care of his appearance. Thankfully Natasha wouldn’t let him get away with that for much longer.

“Alright, alright. I guess since you’re the one who’s gonna have to look at it then you can fix it if you have to,” he replied, trying to sound completely put upon but not quite managing it. He would let her shave him clean if she wanted to.

"I could think of one or the other way to bribe you..."

Natasha brought her lips close to his again, slid her hand just a little lower on his back, to the edge of his underwear, and gave his lower lip a gentle nip.

"For example I have frozen donuts in my car. How does that sound? Want to give me a hand with carrying the stuff in? Then we can have a nice unhealthy breakfast on the sofa and afterwards I'll give you a hand with washing up and trimming the beard and all. You know, since you shouldn't shower with the new bandages on..."

She raised an eyebrow slightly, her fingertips threading through the mess of his beard again and slid her hand even lower on his back. After at least a little rest, she felt more playful and adventurous than yesterday. And definitely not at all in the mood for moor brooding and and crying. That would come again soon enough.

Natasha was in a rather playful mood this morning, and it was exactly what Clint needed. He had spent far too long being on full alert, paranoid and afraid, and he practically melted into her, giving himself over completely to the moment.

She started off with one kind of teasing, but when she offered up donuts instead he chuckled a little. Not exactly what had popped into his mind initially, but he wouldn’t refuse the sweet offering. Only she wasn’t done, and that wasn’t the only ‘sweet offering’ she was putting on the table.

Meeting her eyes he couldn’t keep the goofy grin off of his face, nor could he hold back the words that bubbled up inside. “Christ, I’ve missed you,” he said before pulling her into a kiss. “And yes,” he spoke between kisses, “to all of that. It all sounds good. Especially the sponge bath.”

They made their own power out here with solar panels, and collected rain water, and since they didn’t really use the power for too much else (like lights, television, or computers) there was plenty to heat the water they needed.

"Thought so. Come on, hotshot. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we get to food and sponges."

Natasha reluctantly pulled away - she had nearly forgotten how perfect a kisser this man was - to get up and saunter back to the bedroom. It was a little cold for going outside only with a thin pair of panties covering her legs.

She found a pair of tracksuit pants in the cabinet quickly, a little old but all Clint, comfortable, soft, with the same well-known smell she loved about wearing his sweaters. More than sufficient for the few steps to the car and back.

Her own stuff was soon taken care of. She had never owned much really important in her life. It hadn't been a hard decision leaving most of that behind for the moment. If someone wanted to break in her apartment in New York, hoping to find her there, he could humor himself with tons of her cover clothes as far as she cared.

For traveling and rebuilding her covers, two suitcases were more than enough. The most important accessory in her life right now she wore around her neck anyway. Well, and under her jacket, if guns counted.

The bags from her shopping trip were a little more to carry. Not knowing Clint to be settled here already, she had brought about everything from beverage to cans with fruit and vegetable, the bathroom stuff that would certainly come in handy for that washing up stuff and a few books. Yep, that one last midnight raid had been pretty successful. Well, at least they didn't have to go shopping for some time.

When she was done stuffing everything in the store room and fridge, the promised donuts were already baking in the oven, and her arm at least gave her only half hard the time she had expected.

"Thanks. That wouldn't have been fun alone."

She leaned back against the counter, a little out of breath, and emptied half a can of orange soda in one go while she waited for their food to be done.

As much as he would have been perfectly happy with Natasha wandering around in only his clothes, she had supplies in the car that might spoil and he was never one to let anything go to waste. With her added supplies they wouldn’t have to leave for at least a little while yet.

Tugging on a pair of cargo pants and a sweater, he followed her outside to help lug her things inside. He didn’t even try to tell her to take it easy with her injured arm, instead silently making sure that he carried the bulk of the heavy and awkward stuff so there was less chance of her overextending herself. His leg would heal up well enough, it wasn’t like they’d hit his knee or anything, but her shoulder was more delicate.

Once everything was in and put away he leaned against the little table opposite her, sipping slowly at a glass of juice. “Hey, I’m just in it for the donuts,” he teased, though in his eyes she would get a sincere answer to her thanks.

"Really?"

And just like that the playful mood was back, maybe because her thoughts lingered a little too much on what she had promised him after breakfast. Or maybe the short workout had helped get her really awake and she could feel everything return that she tried to push away so violently. All the thinking, the blame and the fear of the future.

Not right now, not as long as ignorance and fleeing back into this numbness of the last weeks was so much more convenient. It was much more interesting, watching that little drop of juice dangling in Clint's beard and hearing that certain rumble in his voice when he was teasing her.

"Only the donuts? I'm beginning to think I lost my touch."

She watched him over the edge of the can while she took another slow sip and licked the remaining drops on the refreshingly cool edge off then.

Maybe he should be more serious, maybe they should be sitting down and coming up with a plan, but he was just so relieved to have her here, so happy, that just for right now he wanted to live in the moment and enjoy it. They could deal with the heavy stuff later, it wasn’t going anywhere; right now he just wanted a few hours escape from it. Just a few hours.

“Okay, maybe not only the donuts,” he said, finishing the juice and setting the glass aside. “I wouldn’t say you’ve ‘lost’ it, so much as... maybe I just need a little reminding.”

Giving her a lopsided grin he rinsed the glass and left it in the sink to be washed later; they didn’t have the luxury of a dishwasher here. Just a few seconds later he was peering in the oven to see how the donuts were coming along. “That and it’s been a while since I’ve had anything home baked.”

Okay, so they were from frozen, but they were still baking fresh so that definitely counted.

"Well, the donuts aren't finished yet, so I guess I have another..."

Natasha looked up on the old fashioned clock over the kitchen door and put a fingertip on her lips as if she really had to think about it hard.

"...five minutes to remind you. Tough challenge and I got a real hard competition here..."

She pouted a little and pretended to be all busy with the rest of her soda. Another stray drop of orange slipped past her lips all accidentally and she took her time catching it with her fingertip, waiting until it reached the hollow of her throat, right above the zipper of the sweater. She followed back the sticky trail it had left slowly and sucked the sweet juice of her fingertip then, pretending to be still all thoughtful over the subject at hand.

"No, that's definitely too hard a job for my skills. Guess that point goes to breakfast."

Another pout on her lips, she went over to the dishes cabinet and stretched on her tiptoes to get out plates and a bowl for their donuts.

Straightening up again, Clint turned his attention back to Natasha and was instantly distracted by the drop of soda running down her neck, then by the trail of her finger as she traced it back up. He wanted nothing more than to follow its path with his tongue.

“If that task is too hard then you really have lost your touch,” he said, focusing on that pouty bottom lip and how much he really wanted to suck on it. Despite their words she was clearly already winning.

“Five minutes isn’t long, though. Would hate to get distracted and burn them,” he continued, though he was already gravitating closer to her as if she was pulling him in like a magnet.

"What a tragedy. After I brought them all the way here. No, that would be an absolute waste."

Natasha didn't turn around for her answer but threw her hair back over her shoulder to give him an all innocent smile.

"Anything else you want for breakfast? Tea? Coffee?"

Completely ignoring the way he was nearing her, or the nearly predatory expression on his face, she went on to the next cabinet and bent down just a little more than necessary to search through the goods she had brought.

“Exactly. Can’t have that,” he said, though he didn’t buy that innocent look for an instant. She knew exactly what she was doing, how much she was tempting him.

“Nah, just the donuts are good for now.” In all honesty coffee sounded really good, but he didn’t want to get anything else going that would take time to prepare, and he definitely didn’t want to waste any good coffee. He forgot about it quick enough when she bent over in front of him. His pants didn’t exactly accentuate the perfect ass he knew was hidden underneath, but that didn’t stop him from moving nearer, his hand just lightly brushing her ass in a way that could almost seem accidental, though he knew he wouldn’t fool her an instant.

The fleeting but very noticeable touch made Natasha grin silently to herself. It was nice to know, some things didn't change indeed.

She came up with a small box of tea packages from the back of that cabinet and straightened up again slowly, unashamedly pressing her butt against Clint's crotch in the process. Really not her fault that he was in the way, obviously...

"So..."

She dropped that tea package somewhere near the oven without giving it a second look and reached for her soda can again. Her body stayed close enough to Clint's that they kept on touching each other shortly, playfully, none of them giving in to something more purposeful.

"Donuts win, I suppose?"

From this close distance Clint had an even better view when she busied herself with her orange soda again, leaning her head back widely to get even the last smallest drops from the bottom of the can. Of course it was only to blame on her half damaged arm limiting fine motor skills that another drop found its way past her lip and down her throat.

Clint barely held back a groan when Natasha intentionally pushed back against him as she straightened up. His hands rose to grasp her hips and keep her there, but he stopped himself just before he could touch her. Everything that was happening in the world outside right now, for right now none of it mattered, and they seemed to be doing a very good job of keeping each other distracted.

“Even less time now. Can’t risk it,” he replied, moving back just enough so Natasha could turn around. She knew exactly how to direct his attention where she wanted it, and this time when that little drop of soda dribbled down her throat he couldn’t resist catching it on his tongue.

No, that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t that he couldn’t resist, he just sure as hell didn’t want to.

With his hands on the counter on either side of her, he leaned in to suck at her skin, his tongue delving into the hollow of her throat and tasting the orange. Slowly he worked his way upwards, kissing and licking and removing every trace of the sticky trail until he finally reached that pouty lip of hers and took it between his teeth, nibbling gently.

This time it didn't take Clint long to take the invitation, fortunately. And as hoped, his beard was a definitely nice additional touch to skin that was already sensitive by nature.

Natasha dropped the empty can carelessly in the sink and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving in to the soft moan sitting in her throat. Shivers of memory and want ran down her arms, her back, just from this short, tender touch and the wish for more. He definitely hadn't forgotten how to touch her...

She let him play when her worked her lip next, sighing against his mouth with half closed eyes, and raked her nails playfully over his neck, just hard enough to leave faint trails. Where her lower body pressed into his, she circled her hips ever so slightly, hardly noticeable, and leaned back just a little against the counter. He had to follow her if he didn't want to break the dominance of his kiss and their bodies pressed into each other even tighter. The next moan wasn't all that quiet.

Worries like injuries began to fade quickly on her mind- Clint's lips tended to do this to her. The still strange feeling of his beard just added to that smoldering fire, waiting for the last spark inside of her, rough and soft at the same time under her wandering fingertips... And if she kept on thinking about where she wanted to feel that sensation right now, breakfast wouldn't happen.

She murmured something against Clint's lips that sounded vaguely like donuts but made no move to pull away at all.

Just like that it suddenly got very hot in the kitchen and it had nothing to do with the oven. Her nails dragging over his skin, the press of her body against him, the way she let herself go enough to make that sound that just egged him on... he had missed all of this so freaking much.

Pressing her harder against the counter he practically growled into the kiss, kissing her deeper, holding her tighter. He barely understood what she was trying to stay and he knew he should pull away, but she felt far too good and it had been far too long.

“One more minute,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and trailing his lips back down her throat.

"Fuck..."

Natasha keened when Clint started torturing her with his beard again. She buried her good hand in his hair to keep him right there, where this wonderful tickling sensation and his hot breath made her shiver and squirm against him.

One of her legs caressed over his, pulling him even closer into the small rocking movement of her hips against his. It was funny how quickly and intensively she fell for this man every single time. One minute she was playing with him, teasing, ready to pull away anytime, but he only needed a few of these awfully skilled touches and kisses do undo her completely.

Heat coiled in her lower body, demanding and promising, memories of the few but most pleasurable and exciting nights they had had in the past emerging. Gasping, she closed her eyes, a soft shudder running through her, and relished these most vivid pictures playing on her mind. If they were to spend some time together here... At least they had a little time for themselves and could make some more memories like that. Always see the positive side, right?

With a dry scoff at her own thoughts she leaned her head back against the cabinet to give Clint even better access to her neck and banish this unnecessary, burdening pondering. Unfortunately that made her look right at the clock, and the next moan from her lips sounded disappointed.

"You need to stop that, hotshot, or we'll have coal bricks for breakfast."

The tables had turned in an instant, and what had started out as just a bit of playful teasing had gotten a lot more intense. He had her keening and gasping and rocking against him and she was just so fucking hot that he thought even just this might be enough to get him off.

Her skin was just as soft and smooth as he remembered and he could feel her pulse racing as she continued to shift her position to give him the best access yet keep as much of their bodies pressed tight together as she could. She was really very limber.

Unfortunately his extra minute was up, and this time she actually managed to talk, cutting through his lust filled haze. Right. Breakfast. At that moment his stomach growled as if to warn him that he better not let it burn and he buried his face in her neck and groaned before going still against her.

“Alright, alright,” he eventually muttered before oh so reluctantly tearing himself away from her and putting some space between them.

"Don't worry. I won't forget where we stopped."

Natasha needed a moment on her own to find her composure back. She stil made sure to give Clint's ass a good nice squeeze when she passed him by to get a oven cloth.

The donuts looked just perfect, though she shouldn't have waited another ten seconds to get them out. They also looked more than enough when she divided them assiduously on two plates. Not overly healthy, but Natasha had a certain feeling, they would be working these calories off later.

Just the thought brought the shivers of arousal back on her arms and she had to pull herself together to concentrate only on those plates.

"Bring some water please?"

She threw Clint another perfectly innocent look over her shoulder and lead the way back to the living room with both plates in her hand. It didn't exactly match the way, her hips swayed on the short way to the sofa, or how she crossed her legs when she sat down instead of keeping both legs on the floor.

Standing back and watching Natasha divide up the food, Clint couldn’t help but marvel at how surreal this all was. Just twenty-four hours ago he had been holed up here on his own, wondering if he would ever see her again, wondering what he would do next, where he would even go. He had kept going because he’d had to, because that was the only way he knew, but now with Natasha here he could keep going because he wanted to. She gave him hope; they were always stronger together, and if they had any chance of picking up the pieces left it would be together.

Clint watched her walk away, his eyes glued to her ass, before shaking himself out of it and getting two glasses of water, as instructed. Carrying them into the living area he set them on the coffee table and settled down on the sofa beside her a little closer than necessary.

Natasha looked up with a smile when Clint sat down so obviously close to her and placed her hand on his thigh, fingertips idly caressing the inside.

"Well then, let's enjoy our very American breakfast."

Chuckling, she already reached for one of her donuts, the plate sitting lazily between her crossed legs, when she remembered, there was something else she had brought from the car for the meal.

"You should take one of these before, though."

She handed Clint a still sealed package of antibiotics, not the strongest kind and just enough for a few days. That thing with his leg and side shouldn't take much longer, now that they could take care of each other properly. She hated to see him in pain, that hadn't changed, and the sooner this was done, the better.

Before the mood could get too heavy, she quickly added a only half-teasing line, while she picked up that donut finally and started to nibble a few of the sugary crumbles on top off.

"Because you know, I'm very much opting for screw you senseless soon and need you in good shape for that."

It was all so normal and domestic that if Natasha hadn’t handed him the antibiotics Clint might have thought this was a dream. He thought about protesting, but the faster he was healed the better, and staving off any infection would definitely speed up his recovery. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to expect her to take care of him if he refused to properly take care of himself.

Taking the pills from her, he still frowned at them a little as he reached for his water, and soon he was very grateful he had hesitated. If he’d had a mouthful of water already when she added that little tease he would have surely spit it out along with the pills, unless he just choked on it all instead.

His head snapping around to look at her, eyes wide in surprise, he could only stare a moment before shaking his head with a quiet “fuck”.

There were no words strong enough to express how much he had missed this woman.

What's left of us (for broken_arrow)

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