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]

"Hm-hm, and here I was just getting used to it."

Natasha left another tender kiss on his neck and scooted off the sofa as gracefully as possible then, making sure, Clint got a good nice look on her backside in the process. She thought to remember he had a certain liking for her ass... And a little more teasing would lighten the ongoing heaviness of the situation.

"These have to go, hotshot."

She made quick work of what was left of his jeans on his body before she sat back down next to him and lifted his leg over hers, as carefully as possible. She wouldn't really have needed his explanation, the aggressive swollen flesh around that one bandage spoke a clear language. This time the shivers on her arms were clearly visible and she had to stop for a moment to blink away new tears, before she started to unwrap the bandage.

It had been so much easier, calculating possible losses and dangers for fellow agents back in the hasty blood red daze of Washington. Every decision would have brought pain and fatal consequences, Steve, Nick and her had been fully aware of that. She had thought to be okay with it in the end. Regimes falling apart weren't exactly new to her.

But out here, weeks later, with too much time to think between on her hands and faced with that very pain, of her long year partner of all people, regret and the destruction of hundreds, maybe thousands of lives, weighed so much heavier on her shoulders.

She made quick, sterile work of her treatment, knowing her hands would only start trembling, making it even worse, if she let herself listen to the noises from Clint's lips or look at his face. But when that ugly wound was finally free of dried pus and small remaining uncleanness and sealed under another layer of bandage, her composure crumbled.

She leaned her head back against the sofa, with tightly shut eyes, holding back the threatening new wave of anger, remorse and helplessness. Her hands remained on Clint's leg, restlessly caressing over the warmth of his skin, over other, older rough spots of scars she remembered, proofs of his life in the field and how often he had made it out of there alive. He was with her now too, he had made it out of there, he was back with her... She just had to hold on to this, somehow.

But the picture of whatever had happened to him, whoever had unloaded a whole magazine on him instead of watching his back, without a warning of any kind, wouldn't want to go away.

"I'm sorry..."

[broken_arrow]

Left in only his underwear and socks, Clint was starting to think he should have thrown another log on the fire before settling down to this familiar task of patching each other up. He noticed that Natasha was shivering as well, but one look at her face told him it wasn’t from the cold. Maybe he should have left the details out, but she would know anyway, and honesty was something that had always been important between them.

He gritted his teeth against the pain as she cleaned the wound, but it wasn’t too bad. She was as quick and efficient as always, and gentle besides that, but only when the wound was properly covered again did Clint really let himself breathe. Where he was relieved, though, Natasha was anything but. It had been easier to hold off her thoughts with another task to focus on, but now that it was finished everything caught up to her again.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” he said. His leg was still draped across her lap, but he pushed himself up to sit straighter beside her, facing her. “If you hadn’t done what you did millions of lives would have been lost and the other agents still probably would have turned on top of that.”

He would have disagreed with what had happened, and his team still would have tried to take him out whether Natasha had outed them all or not.

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha tried to let his words sink in, find the comfort he was trying to give her, reaching for his hand at once when he scooted closer to her. It felt cold.

Careful, to not hurt him further, she wound her way out from under his leg and hurried over to a cabinet to get a blanket. They would be off to bed soon, but she had an idea, she would be asleep before her head would hit the pillow. She wanted to talk about this before, now that she had already started against better knowledge. Maybe she needed it out of the way, and tomorrow things wouldn't look different.

When she came back, she sat on Clint's good leg carefully after a short moment of hesitation. Being close to him felt too good to give it up already, and that way they could share that blanket.

"We should have sent a warning at least", she muttered when she cuddled close to him, with her arm around him.

They hadn't often had time in the past to get that close, to even relax enough for a few hours of harmless tenderness, and right now it felt like the fucking best thing in the world. Clint was one of the few if not the only persons whose physical touch could get through all these layers of distance she had built around her all her life. Here, in his arms, she felt like she didn't need to hide. Not her regret, her fears, the doubt no one else had been allowed to see.

Or the anger from that one failed discussion with Steve.

"I wanted to... Before we left for the Triskelion. I was trying to set up a coding, to send a message to the people we trusted. There was too little time, the risk was too high..."

Her voice died down more with every word until she rested her forehead tiredly against Clint's strong, broad shoulder and tried to let that last nagging blame slip off her shoulders. There wasn't anything she could have done. Clint confirming that helped, more than expected. There wasn't anyone who knew her better, her strengths but mostly her dark sides and if he was on the same page here...

Still she didn't think she would get that one hurtful picture off her mind. Another nightmare to live with.

"If they would have..."

Her arm tightened its grip around his shoulders, and another small, dry sob came past her lips before she got herself together again. Tears wouldn't change anything either.

"I couldn't lose you, Clint, not like that. Not because of me..."

[broken_arrow]

He didn’t want her to move but he let her go, not wanting to make her feel trapped either. It wasn’t like she would go far, and as it turned out she wasn’t gone for long either. Helping her wrap the blanket around them, he held it with one hand while his other arm slipped around her waist, holding her loosely against him. She was warm, warmer than the blanket as she pressed herself close, and despite the heavy conversation he was grateful for the close proximity, or maybe because of it.

He let her talk.

As much as the two of them had seen and done in their lives somehow they still managed to blame themselves when something went wrong. They couldn’t be perfect, but any failures were taken directly to heart, dissected and mulled over for countless hours.

“It would have taken way more time than you had,” Clint confirmed his understanding, his tone completely free of blame. Maybe if she could truly believe that he didn’t blame her then she could stop blaming herself.

Then she got down to the true crux of the problem and he felt his stomach tighten. This wasn’t just about failing, or about putting people she cared about in harm; this was about him, about the possibility of losing him. It had been two years since Loki had taken him but two years wasn’t long enough to shake that lingering fears. She had almost lost him then, and for a moment she had been afraid it had happened again, only this time it would have been because of something she had done.

“Tasha, hey,” he said softly, raising his hand to brush her cheek softly with his knuckles. “I’m fine, and I’m right here, okay? And if you hadn’t done what you did a million people would have died, and I might not have gotten off as easy as I did.”

If there was a plan in place then he was likely already on the short list to kill. Had Natasha not interrupted the plan and thrown HYRDA off Clint probably wouldn’t have stood a chance.

[russianchildatprayer]

"Our definitions of fine definitely differ, hotshot."

Natasha pressed out a strained chuckle and leaned her face against his hand with a quiet sigh. Not fine, but alive, recovering and here, with her, that was the most she could expect right now. About the rest... she would have to think. Maybe it would be easier this time, actually help, knowing the most important person in her life was still by her side. How heavy that fear had been weighing on mind that he wouldn't, she only realized now.

She left a small, tender kiss on one of his knuckles, allowed herself to drown in the memory of how good this big, strong hands could always make her feel, safe, warm, sheltered. Or, at times, higher than a fucking satellite.

Her lips lingered on his skin, her eyes closed as a warm shudder of memory went through her body, urging her to curl closer against him, enjoy the feeling of his bare skin under her softly caressing hands. The blanket helped but he still felt colder than it was necessary.

"We should probably get some sleep. There room in your bed for me maybe?"

It was more politeness than anything else, but at least one time she had to ask. Regardless of what might or not happen between them once they weren't too roughed up from their respective battles anymore... They had always enjoyed to sleep in the same bed, but sometimes everyone needed a little space alone. After all that had happened, she wouldn't have been surprised if Clint wanted a few nights on his own first.

[broken_arrow]

“Okay, so maybe not fine fine, but you know,” he conceded. He was alive and none of his injuries were really serious, so that counted as pretty ‘fine’ in his book.

She hadn’t been this tender with him in a long time, and Clint relished in every second of it. The brush of her lips, the warmth of her body; god, he had missed his. Misinterpreting her shudder and the way she huddled closer to him, he wrapped the blanket tighter around them to ward off the cold.

Smiling at her question he nodded. “Always,” was the answer. It was true that sometimes he needed to be alone, but very rarely did he ever turn Natasha away, especially at night. Time alone during the day to think and centre himself was one thing, but at night when the shadows crowded in, threatening his peace and plaguing his dreams, it was nice to have some backup and to know he wasn’t completely alone in the world.

[russianchildatprayer]

"Come on, you're freezing."

Natasha answered his smile with another soft kiss to his knuckles and got up reluctantly then. She thought about going back to the car to get one of her bags at least, but that would mean putting her jacket back on. And since her shoulder and her had just made a truce... Enough time to unpack tomorrow.

Instead she stopped in the bathroom shortly to wash the rest of tears and nursing off. Her own changed reflection still left her startling. She had to keep her eyes down to not constantly get reminded that this wasn't just another cover. Or not one for the job at least.

Her eyes were still red from the contacts and crying, and even after a short sponge bath she felt the stain of too much traveling on her skin. A bath would have been great now, if she didn't have to be afraid to drown. Jesus, she definitely needed sleep.

She left her shirt and jeans in the laundry basket and hurried to the bedroom only in her underwear, tying her hair up in a loose braid. The fire still wasn't enough to take care of that lingering coldness, and she was more than relieved when she finally could get under the bed covers.

"I haven't been in Russia for too long. Not used to freezing anymore", she grumbled with half a smile.

[broken_arrow]

When Natasha disappeared into the little washroom Clint got up from the couch and limped over to the bedroom, the blanket still wrapped around him. Throwing it over the bed, he crawled under the blankets and waited for Natasha to return.

She hurried into the room and under the covers, but he had enough time to search out any more obvious injuries and was glad not to see any. “Ah, so that does fade eventually, huh?” he teased, wrapping an arm around her and carefully pulling her close. He always used to tease her that she could lose everything else Russian about herself, but she would always be immune to the cold. Apparently he had been wrong.

He had been here a while now, but with Natasha in his arms, tonight was the first night he felt he could relax. He hadn’t even realised how tense he had been, how hollow, like a part of him had been missing. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. Her hair always smelled different when it was dyed and he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose slightly, glad she couldn’t see it.

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha was still a little shy and very relieved when Clint was the one to pull her in his arms. It was a little awkward with his side and her shoulder damaged. Finally she curled carefully into his good side and draped her damaged arm high around his chest and shoulder, and that worked. All discomfort was forgotten soon when she finally could feel him hold her like this again. It just had been too long.

From time to time she turned her head enough to place a soft kiss on his chest while she let the tiredness finally wash over her. The last weeks had more consisted of half dozing behind the wheel on a lonely highway stop or staring at hotel doors with her hand on her gun all night, than actually resting. Her exhaustion began to catch up with her.

She wished she could just give in to it, but the last of tension wouldn't slip off. Things outside hadn't changed, just because between the two of them everything was okay. On the contrary. In some way they would have to be even more careful now. Their faces seen together would trigger every security camera from here to Moscow.

But no one had followed her here, she was certain of that. At least for a few nights they would be okay. Hopefully.

"We're safe here, right?" she asked quietly, drowsiness slurring her words.

[broken_arrow]

After all her little kisses earlier, and how she had sat on his lap and curled up close to him, Clint would have been surprised to find out that Natasha was feeling shy. Her actions had given him the courage to pull her close the second she crawled into bed with him, otherwise he probably would have been feeling just as nervous about how to handle the arrangement.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but they eventually settled on a position comfortable for both of their injured bodies. Settling his head back on the pillow, Clint focused on her bare skin against his, the soft sound of her breathing, the gentle kisses she still brushed over his chest every so often. In this moment he could truly believe that maybe they would be okay.

He was almost asleep when her words reached his ears, quiet enough to not be startling. He considered her question and nodded. “Nobody knows about this place, and it’s completely off the grid.” No power, just a dirt path going to it. “Probably the safest place we could be.”

[russianchildatprayer]

Clint's assurance made her relax in more than one way. Not just about this place... Only when she sagged against him a little more and pressed her lips to his skin thankfully once more, she realized, she had been afraid. Afraid of him laughing at her childish fears. Of him thinking less of her, in a moment of so much weakness and irrationality. As if she didn't know better after all these years.

Tomorrow, in the bright daylight and with a few hours of sleep in her bones, she would be able to think clear and straight and contain her emotions the right way again, instead of lingering in the horrors of the last weeks. But it was nice to know she didn't need to hide from Clint when every noise outside had her senses alert until she could identify the animal. Or when she would startle awake later, convinced a bomb could go down on them any minute. It was just one of the reasons why they were so close, why she felt so deeply for him.

"Thank you", she mumbled, rubbing her cheek against his chest softly, almost like a cat showing affection. "For... for understanding. And being there."

[broken_arrow]

He could practically feel the tension draining from her body, the next kiss a little different, full of relief and gratitude. Giving her a gentle squeeze, he let himself relax too, his fingertips tracing absent patterns over her skin as he closed his eyes again and breathed deeply. Breathe in the stress of the day, then let it out, let it go, until all he was left with was peace.

She didn’t need to thank him, he could feel it in her touch and the press of her lips, but he appreciated it anyway. “Who knows you better than me, huh?” he said, smiling at how she rubbed her cheek against him. “But you doubt me again I might have to take it personal.”

He was teasing her mostly because he knew how hard it was for her to trust anyone, and how discovering that SHIELD had been infiltrated by HYDRA must have made her question everything. At least she had never doubted his loyalty, even if she had doubted his reaction to what she had done. “Now get some sleep, we can talk in the morning.”

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha tried, she really did. Mostly because Clint needed sleep just as much as she did to heal, and she didn't want to keep him from it. For a while it worked, his warm, strong presence engulfing her subconsciousness and leaving her more relaxed than in months. Even when she turned away from him sometime instinctively after he had fallen asleep, not wanting to hurt him in her sleep.

She slept the way she had always done it lately, curled in a tight ball under the cover to keep her temperature at least tolerable and with her hand under her pillow, though she had left her gun in the living room. It took her a while to drift away since she had denied herself painkillers today, knowing they would only make the dreams worse, but finally her body and mind came to rest.

So deep in fact that she felt disorientated when she came around in the very early morning, because her body reminded her of too much coffee for driving the day before. For a moment she didn't have the slightest idea where she was and why her gun wasn't where it belonged.

Her body went tense immediately, her hands hard fists when she turned her head to see who was in bed with her. If she had to act right away or had time to reach for the nearest blunt object to secure her exit. These weren't times to fucking fall asleep next to a mark, damnit...

Something between a sigh and a nervous chuckle came from her lips when she recognized Clint's familiar features, his well-known muscular frame all tangled up in the sheets. And here she had been thinking, she had left paranoia behind for good a few years after leaving the KGB. She left a feather light kiss on his shoulder, to not wake him, as if to apologize for even a second of puzzled, murderous thoughts and sauntered to the bathroom then.

Her reflection still confused her when she washed her hands, pondering if going back to sleep was worth the trouble. The rings in the size of Saturn rings under her bloodshot eyes weren't any more attractive than the faint hint of red in her hairline beginning to show. Right. No reason to worry about waking up next to the wrong man or woman. Right now she wouldn't even be able to seduce a mark after hours in a Hollywood make up trailer. Not that there was any reason left for such a job anyway.

She decided to blame the goose bumps all over her body on the fact that the fire had gone out rather than starting to think about her current situation, and hurried out to get it back going. One of Clint's sweaters was draped in a sofa corner so at least she wasn't freezing that much. She sat on the large fur in front of the fireplace while she worked, with her legs pulled to her side, and escaped in the lingering tiredness on her mind.

[broken_arrow]

After weeks of little sleep, with Natasha curled up warm and comforting against him Clint slept like the dead. He didn’t wake when she pulled away, nor when the bed shifted as she got up and left the room. It wasn’t until the dim light of morning, made even dimmer by the dense forest that surrounded them, filtered in through the window that he slowly stirred. The first thing he noticed was that he felt better rested than he had in weeks.

The second was that he was alone.

It had been a dream. Fatigue, fear, pain, confusion; it had all mixed together to create this wonderful fantasy. But it had felt so real...

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Clint looked at the other side of the bed where the covers were rumpled and thrown back. Pushing himself up on his elbows he winced at the pain in his side, but it helped to clear his mind. The extra blanket was on the bed, and his injuries were freshly bandaged and not by his hand. It was real, it did happen; Natasha had been here last night. And now she was gone.

Somehow that was even worse.

What if that was it? He should have let her talk, should have let her get all the guilt and fear off of her chest, but he had brushed it off and gone to sleep instead. In the morning light she must had decided it was all a mistake, that she was better off without him slowing her down.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Clint sat there a moment rubbing his face with his hands and trying to force down the rising panic and devastation that was threatening to overtake him. He just... he had to keep going. He could figure this out, he just had to take it one step at a time. He just had to get up, go to the washroom, splash some water on his face, and try not to look at the sofa, try not to remember how it felt to hold her close, to kiss her, the elation when she had shown him that necklace. He could do this. He would figure it out.

Getting to his feet, he grabbed the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders before limping out to the washroom. He had only made it about two feet out of the bedroom, though, when he stopped in his tracks. Natasha sat in front of the fireplace, trying to light a fire and clad in one of his oversized sweatshirts.

His heart stopped just as his feet had. She hadn’t left. It wasn’t a dream, and she was still here.

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha looked up when she heard a noise, a faint smile on her lips, but then she saw Clint's face and quickly grew serious. Maybe she should have woken him up after all. As if she didn't know how lonely a cold bed could feel since everything they had used to call a home was gone.

"Not going anywhere, hotshot", she said softly, throwing another brick into the fireplace to get the small flames up higher.

The whole thing already took ridiculously long, thanks to working mainly with most arm. She felt better this morning, the pain had died down a little as well as the swelling. And that was exactly why she wanted to give that shoulder some desperately needed rest, to finally get rid of this nonsense for good. She'd need healthy limbs once they would go back to the world- when and wherever that would be.

For the moment they could enjoy a little rest still, and she wanted Clint to be sure, she wanted to do it with him, just like he had given her security yesterday night.

"Come here?"

She reached out her hand for him invitingly.

[broken_arrow]

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.

[russianchildatprayer]

"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.

[broken_arrow]

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.

[russianchildatprayer]

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."

[broken_arrow]

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.

[russianchildatprayer]

"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.

[broken_arrow]

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.

[russianchildatprayer]

"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.

[broken_arrow]

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.

[russianchildatprayer]

"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.