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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

"Something wrong?"

Natasha looked up innocently and licked a stray sugar crumble off her lips, a little slower than necessary maybe. Completely unabashed, she kept on enjoying her donut, her hand back on Clint's thigh as if it had all right to be there.

The look on his face was priceless and that was exactly what she had been going for, of course. They could need a little lightness and laugh right now, definitely.

How she could make something as simple as eating a donut so fucking sexy Clint didn’t know, though the hand caressing his thigh didn’t hurt either. Shaking his head at her, he forced himself to look away and attacked his own breakfast with a vengeance, taking more than half of the first donut in one bite. He was going to need the energy or the strength or something if Natasha planned to make good on her words, not that he’d ever had a problem in the stamina department before.

“s’good,” he mumbled around the food, his leg twitching slightly under her hand. Bringing the glass of water up to his lips, he made a silent toast in his head. To a very speedy recovery.

It was utterly amusing, watching and feeling him fidget like that and knowing she was the reason. She could have taken him apart completely with just a few words, and later maybe she would, but before they needed proper nutrition.

Which didn't keep her hand from idly wandering, though, slowly, systematically making its way up the inside of Clint's thigh, just close enough, before she let it trail down again. That game up she kept up until both their plates were empty, occasionally digging her fingers a little tighter into his strong muscles.

When she finally had her fill, she picked up a few left crumbles from her plate with a fingertip and nibbled them off, a mischievous smile on her lips, and gave his good thigh a last good squeeze. Time to get the work. She got up quickly and out of reach, to bring the dishes back to the kitchen.

"So... I hope you trust me with something sharp and dangerous on your face?"

Still with that predatory grin, she came back to take the big mirror hanging on the wall and place it on the dresser right opposite the sofa, so she would be seeing what she was doing. After getting a towel and a small pair of scissors from the bathroom, she neared Clint again, slowly, with one eyebrow raised.

She was a total tease, and Clint loved every minute of it. This was what had been missing from his life for the past few months he’d been away. Not the sexy talk and the teasing specifically, but the ability to relax, the feeling that things would be okay, the comfort of having someone that understood; all of it. Her; that was what had been missing from his life: Natasha and everything that went along with her.

He ate his food in record time, but Natasha did so at a leisurely pace, her hand never leaving his thigh. Leaning back against the sofa he closed his eyes and and relaxed, relishing in the feel of her touch while at the same time willing himself not to rise to the bait, so to speak.

When she finally shifted beside him he opened his eyes, but before he could say or do anything she was on her feet and clearing the dishes. He didn’t even try to protest nor offer to help knowing she would turn him down. She seemed more content to balance the dishes with her injured arm than let him walk around on his injured leg, though his injuries were arguable worse that hers, having had no proper medical attention as she had.

“Well, I figure if you were planning to slit my throat you woulda done so last night, so...” he said, watching her move around. “Sure you don’t wanna move this to the bathroom?” Would save from getting hair all over the couch and make for easier clean up that way.

"Well, I was planning to keep my legs around your to keep you from escaping your fate, hotshot, but if you insist..."

He had a point, though, so Natasha didn't keep up that sulk on her lips for too long but headed for the bathroom as requested. There were other ways to tease him if she desired so... Towel and scissors still in her hand, she leaned back against the sink and nodded down on the bath tub edge for Clint to take a seat.

"Come on, hotshot, we have a date."

Well, Natasha was certainly in a playful mood this morning, and Clint found himself just grinning stupidly back at her for a moment. Clearly she was as relieved as he was now that they were together again, and she seemed to determined to take advantage of every moment.

Pushing up to his feet when she disappeared into the washroom, he followed after her and took the seat she indicated, stretching his injured leg out a little while keeping the other bent.

“You’re really eager to de-scruffify me,” he said, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Do I really look that bad?”

"No, just like being on the run."

A hint of sadness crept into Natasha's smile. She quickly leaned forward to capture Clint's lips in a soft, long kiss and rub her cheek against his gently, letting him know she really didn't care about his looks at all. She just needed a bit of normalcy back in her life.

"And I like to think, we've both come home, so let's make a gentleman out of you again."

And there it was right back, that playful grin on her lips, when she stepped closer and straddled his good leg to get comfortable, with one of hers propped inside the bath tub for better leverage. Her hand went from softly caressing his neck up to grab his hair, just on this side of too rough, urging him to lean his head back so she could start her work.

Aw, damn, he hadn’t meant to make her sad, he had just been playing around. Before he could apologise (and, let’s face it, probably make an idiot of himself) Natasha cut off any word with a kiss which he gratefully returned. Everything felt right with the world when she kissed him.

Afterwards she went right back to the teasing, though her words about home resonated deeper than the other playful words should have allowed. This place held special meaning to them, so in a way it was like home, but he knew it was more than that. Being together again, especially after so long apart; still having each other while losing everything else... they both had to build new lives, a new life, and this, each other... this was home.

Her rough handling made him grunt but he did as indicated and tilted back his head. “You’ve done this before, right?”

"Less talking, Barton. I need my focus."

She was only fucking around with him, of course, but the teasing was just too much fun to give it up. Her lips came down to his neck, leaving a trail of little bites as if to mark her territory, while the rather blunt blades of the scissors caressed through the mess of hair around his throat.

She could swear, she could feel his pulse quickening under her lips and chuckled a little before biting down gently on just that spot. Right there, where she could feel the life, the warmth running through him, everything she had been afraid she might have lost when all else had gone to hell. He was still here, with her, and after all these weeks of fear, that knowledge left a light-hearted relieved euphoria, even overshadowing sadness and helplessness for the moment.

Sometimes being a child really didn't hurt.

It also didn't hurt that she could feel his body so close and hot against hers in this position, and if she pressed her crotch a little more than necessary against him... Well, she was just making sure she had a good position, to not suddenly slip when she had a sharp object on his neck...

Admittedly, barber wasn't in her job description, but she had learned everything necessary about styling, restyling and taking care of her looks in every situation at early age. And she had shaved him before when there had been that thing with his elbow years back, so it wasn't rocket science.

She worked quickly, efficiently, after she had stopped fooling around, trimming back the uncontrolled growth on his cheeks and chin in a short, neat layer of dark blond. Then she reached back for the shaving lather and razor blade she had spotted before on the mirror rack and settled back down on Clint's leg. It was purely by accident, really, that she had her legs around him a little tighter and closer than before, sighing against his neck as she rubbed herself against him as if to get comfortable, while she coated his lower chin and throat with a thin layer of white.

"No moving now, hotshot", she murmured against his ear, taking a tight hold of his hair again to underline her words.

Slowly, carefully she brought the blade to his skin then, a look of pure concentration on her face when she slowly scraped it over inch by inch, just stopping in between to wipe the blade on the towel propped between their bodies.

“Right, right,” he said, before pressing his lips firmly closed. His eyes drifted shut when she started nibbling at his neck, her hot breath in direct contrast to the cold steel of the scissors. He flinched on instinct when she bit him, but there was no pain in it; in fact it was the exact opposite.

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, the metallic singing of the scissors the only sound as Natasha efficiently got the length of his facial hair down to something more manageable, but she wasn’t finished yet. He watched her set up the shaving kit, and felt his pulse quicken all over again when she didn’t just sit on his leg again but rubbed herself against him with a gentle sigh against his skin. Her hand in his hair, her voice low in his ear... she was definitely not done playing with him yet.

She had done this for him before, but at the time it had been necessity, and despite the obvious attraction they shared they had always been able to turn that off when needed. They bathed each other, changed each others clothes, cared for one another when needed. This was different; he was injured but not enough that he needed care, and that made all the difference. He could easily do this task himself, and that’s what made it a game. She worked slowly, her body warm and close, her movements careful and precise, and it was all Clint could do to keep his breathing even. Keeping one hand on the side of the tub to help his balance, his other found her leg, slid along her thigh up to her hip. He rotated his thumb over the bone, applying just a slight pressure, and the whole while his eyes never left her face. The expression she wore, the concentration, was breathtaking.

"You're playing dangerously, hotshot."

Natasha bit her lower lip softly, forcing herself to keep her focus on what she was doing when Clint started touching her. Not that she really needed to, in theory she could shoot some bad guys through the window while he was fucking her through the roof, but it added more spice to the game pretending.

Just as much as answering his touch with slowly rubbing herself over his thigh again when she lowered her hand to wipe the blade. She could feel the heat coil in her lower body again and knew, she was already getting wet for him, but she ignored the sensation as good as possible to finish her work. Stripe by stripe the coarse hair vanished from where it had no business, the blade caressing, dancing over his skin, mindful of every line, every movement of his muscles and Adam's apple while her hand in his hair held him firmly in place.

It didn't take long, finally she could put both towel and blade away and rub her cheek against his now perfectly clean and smooth neck with a seductive little purr.

"Better..."

Careful to not graze his injured side, she wrapped both arms around him and started treating his throat and nick with small kisses and licks again. The tip of her tongue followed the line of his pulse, slowly up and down until she found that slightly reddened spot from before and bit down again, a nearly inaudibly quiet moan on her lips.

"I think I promised you a bath..."

“Who, me?” Clint replied as innocently as possible. He tried not to smile when she drew her lower lip between her teeth and just barely managed it because moving his face right now would not be a good idea. Not that he thought it would really make any difference. He was pretty sure it would take a pretty sudden movement for Natasha to even nick his skin, she was just that damn good and in control.

After that he behaved himself until she finished the job, taking no small thrill from her solid hold on his hair and the power she had over him. She was gentle, but she could have easily done him serious damage if she wanted to.

His newly shaved skin was sensitive and he let out a little growl when she nuzzled against him in about the sexiest way possible. His thumb pressed into her skin again when she started kissing his neck, and the growl got a little louder when she bit him again. “I seem to remember something about that...”

The air was buzzing and these sexy noises from Clint's throat didn't exactly help that condition. Natasha usually tried to keep promises she gave him, though. And really, like she needed an excuse to get her hands all over him.

A short glance at the water level display of the boiler let her know, there was enough hot water available for the plan. They could always shower together in the evening when the supply had refilled. After... other things that might get them sweaty again.

"We might need to get you out of your clothes for that", she purred, batting her eyelashes at him innocently. Not exactly the matching expression for the way she pressed her lower body against his leg. Or for how her hand slipped from his waist lower, fingers digging slightly into the firm flesh of his ass. "How about getting comfortable on the sofa again?"

Between that sexy tone of voice and the way she was rubbing against him Clint was getting more than a little excited himself. Giving her a look that clearly stated that he didn’t believe the innocent act for a second he slowly nodded his head.

“Yeah, it usually works, uh...” his words halted a moment when she squeezed his ass and he definitely felt himself respond. “Works better that way. With the no clothes.”

Oh so eloquent was his response.

Natasha laughed, a warm, affectionate sound, as short as it was. There was nearly no day when this man wouldn't make her laugh, and if when happened because after all this time she could still drive him crazy so easily... even better. She lowered her head for another soft kiss while her thigh slowly rubbed against that promising hardness forming under his pants. A promise clear enough.

"Come on."

When she stood up, she took his shirt with her, carefully easing it over the bandage covering his side before pulling it over his head and throwing it in the laundry basket. For a quick second her fingertips grazed one of his nipples, then she bent over the small niche next to the clothes washer, reaching for the large washing pan waiting there.

"Wait for me on the sofa? I can't promise I'll keep my hands off you if you stay", she grinned, leaning back against the sink while the pan filled.

What's left of us (for broken_arrow)

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