What's left of us (for broken_arrow)

[russianchildatprayer]

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.

Comments

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha pouted a little when he saw her plan through that easily and at the sudden loss of touch and tried hard to concentrate on that receipt in her head again. It didn't work, her mind was focused rather on the look of Clint's arms around her waist just a second ago, the muscles playing there, and his strong thighs moving against hers...

With a frustrated sigh, she blew a strand of hair out of her face and raised her hands in mock-defeat.

"Alright, how about you give the orders and I'll execute?"

[broken_arrow]

Chuckling again at that little pout, Clint wanted nothing more than to nibble that lower lip but somehow managed to restrain himself. They would end up eating something cold out of a can if they kept that up.

Still, he couldn’t help but find Natasha’s frustration adorable. Always good to know he wasn’t the only one that was having a hard time focusing and keeping his hands to himself. Her answer was surprising, however, until he thought about it. He figured she would give him some tedious task to do that he could easily screw up, not ask him to oversee the whole thing, but if he was actually working he would be on his feet, and he saw through her request almost instantly. If he was just giving orders he could do so sitting down so as not to aggravate his injury.

“Alright, what do we got here,” he said, surveying what she had laid out. “Rice, meat... did you have particular plans for this or you want me to make something up?”

[russianchildatprayer]

"I just figured, these two kind of goes together."

Natasha wrinkled her nose thoughtfully and looked down on her ingredients without much motivation.

"I don't know, like throwing them in a pan and eat whatever comes out of it? I'm open for suggestions."

[broken_arrow]

Clint chuckled at her reply. "Okay, we can work with that. First thing, gotta get that water boiling if you wanna cook the rice," he said, poking around at what else she laid out while he made plans in his head of what they could cobble together out of all of it.

[russianchildatprayer]

"Been planning to, just might take a while."

Natasha filled the second pan with water and placed it on the second, at least half-warm hotplate, while she watched the other with lasting suspicion in her eyes.

"This was supposed to become a vegetable soup. But this looks more miserable than Steve after they pulled him out of the ice."

[broken_arrow]

Being off the grid did present some difficulties but they had made it through before and would do so again. Just meant they had to be a little more patient and creative.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Clint chuckled, though he was nothing of the sort. Nothing looked particularly appetizing at this point. “And hey, even if it’s not it still won’t be the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Okay, so that sounded better in his head.

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha pouted at Clint's all but charming remarks. The problem was, he was right. This did either look nor smell really delicious.

"It's just the kitchen. I've done this a hundred times in my own in New York", she claimed, stirring the pile of vegetables in the pan without much enthusiasm.

Wasn't something supposed to be in the water by now? Some spice or something? Why was this all so complicated? She had no problem surviving on something she had hunted in the wilderness or living off can food for months. But as soon as she was supposed to get something on a plate, it turned out catastrophic.

"I'm sorry."

She sighed and sat down on the counter in surrender.

"You don't have to eat it, really. I just wanted to try and do something nice."

[broken_arrow]

Seeing Natasha look so defeated was both sad and adorable. He hated to see her get herself down about anything, and it was especially bothersome since it rarely happened, but the fact that she had been doing this for him, that she had been trying so hard and was upset and disappointed because she had wanted to do something nice for him... he couldn’t help but smile adoringly at her.

“Hey, the fact that you tried means a lot,” he said, rubbing her knee soothingly. Leaning into her where she sat, he nuzzled against her shoulder. “And we’re not beat yet. We can still save this. We made this stove work before, and we can do it again.”

[russianchildatprayer]

With someone like Clint around to make you smile and laugh, frustration didn't have much room. Chuckling softly, Natasha wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her cheek against the mess that was his hair.

"Rescue mission diner started then, huh?", she sighed. "Can't be harder than freeing that scientist out of a North Korean prison. Just don't walk around too much, okay? You still need to take it easy."

[broken_arrow]

Clint smiled when she laughed and cuddled a little closer to her when she wrapped her arms around him. If he could stay like this, with her, forever, he thought he could be happy. Even as little as she was really wearing, right now he was happy to just be close to her, to feel her arms around him and her heartbeat against his.

Right, food.

Of course she hadn’t forgotten his injury, but at least she wasn’t banishing him to the table while she did all the work. “How about I just stand right here by the stove and you can do all the walking, yeah? I can just stir things and look good.”

[russianchildatprayer]

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard for you. The second part, I mean."

With a remark like this, of course Natasha had to tease him back. And she was in a much too tempting position to not lower her hand to Clint's ass and give it a nice tight squeeze.

"Just try not to look like you're actually trying and all."

Still chuckling, she gave his ear a little teasing nip next and freed herself from his grasp then before the food would become completely inedible.

"Alright, you're the boss. Tell me what you need."

She pushed the sleeves of his sweater up her arms, still grinning and giving little care how high it was still riding on her hips, revealing pretty much everything. She doubted that Clint would mind.

[broken_arrow]

Clint grinned at her response, though he couldn’t exactly hide his own body’s response to all her teasing. Later; they would have all the time in the world after dinner to play. Dinner? Lunch? Breakfast? He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, nor did he care.

“To look good? Nah, I never have to try with that,” he said when she pulled away, something he only reluctantly let her do.

Tell her what he needed? Now there was a loaded question, especially with his sweater riding up and leaving nothing to the imagination. Of course the simple answer was her, just her, but they couldn’t live on sex alone, so he took a deep breath and moved out of the way before giving her the first set of orders in their attempt to save this meal.

[russianchildatprayer]

With Clint doing the actual practical part and her just assisting, what she had been preparing for diner actually started to look edible after a while. Natasha admired this ability to make the best, not the only hardly-sufficing out of everything, an ability that Clint had mastered early in his childhood.

She busied herself in reaching him everything he needed and keeping the counters clean and tidy for him to work and setting up the table. And well, from time to time, with wrapping her arms around him from time to time, pressing her body against his, with her lips roaming his neck, to reward him for all his hard work.

"Smells great", she murmured into his ear when he seemed pretty much done with the work and her stomach reminded her that she was actually a little hungry.

[broken_arrow]

Living as he had, Clint had learned to be creative when it came to meals, and as he turned there fare into something edible he found that the actions were actually quite soothing. It kept his mind focused, put his creativity to use, and Natasha’s little rewards didn’t hurt none either.

She was an excellent assistant, of course; following instructions, and taking orders were the norm for their way of life, plus she had the insight to take care of the things he didn’t even ask for, like setting the table. By the time the food was cooked Clint was feeling what he figured people meant when they talked about zen. In that moment, with Natasha pressed against his back and a decent meal about to be served, everything felt right with the world.

“Let’s hope smells aren’t deceiving,” he said, leaning back against her a little as he turned off the burners.

[russianchildatprayer]

"Doubt it. Looks just as perfect."

Natasha tightened her arms around him, just enough to make sure not to hurt him, and bit his earlobe gently before murmuring a quiet thanks for all his efforts. The rough fabric of his pants scraped over the sensitive bare skin between her legs when she rubbed against him a little, not unlike a cat seeking attention, and she drew in a sharp breath. She really had it bad, definitely.

Food first, though, or they would run out of energy in no time.

She forced herself to let go, not without another sigh, and turned to the fridge, shivering at the sudden cold when she opened it to look for something to drink.

"Water or juice?"

[broken_arrow]

Clint closed his eyes when she nibbled at and whispered in his ear. With her lips so close he heard that sharp intake of breath when she rubbed against him, and damn if he didn’t want to do something about it, like see if he could get her to make that sound again. Soon, he reminded himself, making sure to hold his position when she let him go.

“Water,” he replied, picking up one of the plates she had set out and dishing out the food. Doing the same for the second he made sure all the burners were off and that the pots were covered before carrying the plates over to the table.

[russianchildatprayer]

Tap water in Hungary was drinkable if necessary but not recommended so Natasha was glad that they had enough bottles stored here, and even thought to put some in the fridge before their sex marathon.

She brought a big one to the living room and poured out two glasses for Clint and her before taking the chair on the other side of the small table. She thought of teasing him a little under the table, just a stray toe reminding him, she was far from done with him, but the smell of the food was really delicious. Soon she found herself being too busy with her plate for anything else.

The last weeks of not really eating much still took their toll and she couldn't get it all finished, but when she finally leaned back, folding her hands over her stomach, she felt fuller and more satisfied than in months. In every sense.

"You haven't forgotten anything, I see", she smiled.

[broken_arrow]

Clint settled himself carefully on the sofa. His leg wasn’t feeling too poorly at the moment, especially considering the time he had just spent standing, though he had made sure to keep most of his weight on his other foot. It actually felt like it was on the mend, though he still made sure to take a few pills with the meal just to keep the pain and inflammation away. He could relax now with Natasha here and take the meds he had denied himself before.

The table between them luckily did a decent job of hiding Natasha’s long legs and everything else from his view so Clint was able to concentrate on his food. They ate in comfortable silence with only a look or two thrown either way throughout. The last woman Clint had dated for any length of time had had the habit of filling every little silence with inane chatter and it had quickly gotten on his nerves. It was nice to be able to sit with someone and just enjoy their presence and not feel the need to talk.

He had always been a fast eater, and by the time Natasha pushed her plate aside and settled back in her seat he had already finished his and was just lounging comfortable.

“Steel trap,” he replied, tapping the side of his head and grinning back at her.

[russianchildatprayer]

"Obviously. But what a pretty one."

Natasha chuckled and washed the last of the delicious taste away with her water, without taking her eyes from Clint for even a second.

Something about this, sitting here with him, eating something he had cooked, with no need to make plans for anything, no need to even put on clothes for the moment... This wasn't them, it had never been, but right now it was.

It seemed abstract, confusing to her that she was sitting here joking around with him, with her foot playfully teasing along his leg under the table, after she had just watched the world burn a few weeks ago. And how she didn't give a damn. Couldn't give a damn, not right now, not while they were both healing and trying to put together their lives. Together. The two of them.

That was the only thing that counted right now, that they had still each other. The world would have to wait until its heroes had regathered. Maybe that was this strange feeling that she couldn't place, really... The sudden realization that she was ready to go back to her job, eventually, while in the last weeks she hadn't seen a clear path into anything at all.

Clint had become the light to orientate herself once more. Just like when he had freed her from her last cage. He didn't even really have to do much, save for being his own scruffy, sarcastic, caring, funny, good-hearted self. The one thing she would always have even if everything else failed, if she actually allowed herself to finally let this into her thick head.

"I love you too, you know", she said quietly before even realizing she was about to speak.

Well, that hadn't been so hard, had it?

[broken_arrow]

Clint chuckled at the reply. “You’re lucky I’m confident in my masculinity,” he said. Hell, if Natasha wanted to call him pretty he’d take it. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t take from her.

Slouching back against the sofa and only wincing slightly from his injuries, he just watched her across the table, an easy smile on his face. Her teasing foot was mostly innocent, or maybe he was just feeling rather lazy now that he had a full stomach, but he couldn’t help noting how nice this felt. How strangely normal despite being so unlike them. Was this what normal couples did every day? Cook together, relax together, and fuck each other’s brains out, not necessarily in that order? Because if that was normal... well, he thought he could get used to a little more normal in his life.

When she spoke again, her voice so quiet he almost missed it, Clint was entirely unprepared. He had almost forgotten his ill-timed confession from earlier, and had been unsure what would really come of it. He had half expected her to just pretend he’d never said it, while another part of him had thought she would needle him about it a little and want to talk about it. Somehow the last thing he had expected was for her to say it back out of the blue like that.

For a long moment he just stared at her with wide eyes. He shouldn’t be so surprised, she even broke her ‘no jewellery’ rule to wear something that reminded her of him, but whether she felt it or not he had sort of expected that she would never admit it aloud. But now she had and his heart was hammering in his chest and he didn’t know how to respond.

“I know... I mean, I guess I shoulda known, I just never really...” realising he was rambling he forced himself to stop and take a breath. “Thanks. And it wasn’t just the amazing sex. I really meant it.”

[russianchildatprayer]

It was somehow adorable how Clint was searching for words. Natasha hadn't doubted the sincerity of his statement earlier even for one second but she found it was good to hear it confirmed anyway.

Suddenly she needed to touch him, really, not this lazy teasing, and she couldn't get up fast enough to sit down next to him and kiss the hell out of him. This was probably love too, this urge to be close, to be in his arms as often as possible, just as they had plenty experienced ever since she had arrived here.

Careful to not hold him too tightly she snuggled her body close and captured his lips with hers, softly at first, then with gently probing until she could taste the last of their meal on him. Her hand was buried in the mess of his hair while she fused her mouth against his as if that was the only way to breathe. Maybe, in a way she had never allowed herself to realize, in certain moments it was.

[broken_arrow]

Why couldn’t he just say what he was thinking? What he was feeling? Whether it was his shitty childhood or his lack of schooling words had never come easy to Clint, especially when it came to expressing his feelings. Such a thing had never really been welcomed when he was growing up and that had stuck with him.

Luckily Natasha was amazing and knew him better than anyone and she understood what he was really trying to say. She didn’t bother to reply, at least not with words, and body language was something he was definitely better at so when she rounded the table to join him on the sofa he welcomed her with open arms. She wasted no time in kissing him, and what had started off gentle soon deepened to near desperation, as if she needed his breath to live.

He kissed her back just as good, his hand splayed over her back to hold her close. In all their time apart he had let himself miss her, let himself want her, but only now that he had her back did he realise how much he needed her. SHIELD had been a turning point for him, and had practically saved his life, but even with it gone now he still had Natasha. She had become his constant, his lifeline. He needed her.

“I love you,” he said again as he gasped in a much needed breath. It was easy to say when she was so close, so receptive; it was easy to say it when he didn’t have to think about it and could just let the words out.

[russianchildatprayer]

It was still a little strange hearing it, but in the best way possible. Natasha felt her cheeks turning pink and chuckled, a little embarrassed, but didn't try to hide it. She just kept on tenderly caressing Clint's cheek and enjoy that excited, happy look on his face. She was happy too, in spite of this whole mess that their lives had become, she felt happy. That was all she needed to know for the moment.

"I like the sound of that", she murmured, still blushing a little, her thumb ever so softly caressing Clint's lower lip as if she could make him say it again that way.

Of course there had been people telling her these words in the past, and one or two of them might actually have been serious about it. And she might have said it back even.

But that hadn't been her true self, she hadn't had a real heart to give to anyone. Whatever she had believed to be and feel back then, had been a different person, a figure in someone else's nightmare, created and directed by anyone but herself.

It was Clint who had helped her become a real person, capable of actually feeling anything but hate and revenge. It was only fitting that he was the first person she felt love for again, and this time unconditionally, without any doubt.

Now she did have to rest her head against his shoulder, hide her face in the soft fabric of his sweater and enjoy that faint, comforting smell that was all him. She didn't want him to see that she was crying a little. Not when it was really just good tears.

[broken_arrow]

She was blushing; Natasha Romanoff was actually blushing. She was blushing and smiling happily and touching him like he was something precious and it was almost too much.

“Better watch out,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips and brushing over her thumb. “I might just keep saying it until you’re sick of hearing it.”

It wasn’t likely to happen, wasn’t likely to be something he said every day, just in moments like these when it really mattered, moments when she needed to hear it or he just felt so overwhelmed with love that the had to say it. But it was still good to know she would be receptive to it no matter what.

Wrapping his arms comfortably around her as she lay her head against his shoulder, he settled them back against the sofa to relax, just enjoying the feel of her in his arms.

[russianchildatprayer]

"Won't happen anytime soon", Natasha answered softly. "There weren't many people telling me that and actually meaning it, you know."

It felt so goddamn good, just having him hold her like that, breathing against him, breathing and feeling him and nothing else for a change. It didn't matter where they were or where they might move to in a few weeks, she knew that now. They could pull through this whole mess together.

She wiped her cheeks inconspicuously on the fabric of his sweater and rested her head closer to his neck to place a few gentle kisses there and drown even more in the feeling and scent of his skin, so familiar, so calming.