Natasha’s awoken by the news Clint’s asking for her. She’s never turned that function on Jarvis off, despite her escape. Being in the city, she finds herself making her way half asleep to his office. She worries for him, as she refuses to do for everyone else, and she has to know that he’s okay.
When she awakens in the dead of night, it’s Clint she sees. Cold, remote, entangled in the web of Loki’s making and so far from her reach. Not the man who’d held out his hand to her, pulled her from the wreckage that would have compiled her life’s work.
The office is cool, quiet, and it makes her chest clench to see Clint this way. He’s never asleep and vulnerable when she sees him outside of their missions - on mission, it’s a different story, where he’s the only person she’ll fall asleep next to.
It’s been too long since she was back here - and she knows that they’ll believe her to be a traitor now, but she could never refuse Clint what he asked for - and she finds herself unable to walk away as she’d intended. Instead, she walks over to the sofa, stroking her finger along his cheek before taking a deep breath. In doing this, she’s choosing to stop running once more.
Yet, as she moulds her back to his familiar shape, guiding his arm over her waist, she feels secure for the first time in far too long.
Clint always had a light sleep. He usually woke up fast but now he was still sleeping as Natasha crawled onto the couch to him, warming him. He was not really awake as he felt his arm around something, someone that was. Clint needed a bit to wake up, the familiar scent keeping him from jumping as he felt the warm body next to him, the soft curls he had been dreaming of softly tickling his chin and the warm scent calming him down immediately. He knew who it was without even opening his eyes. “Natasha…”, he whispered into the dark, bringing his arm closer, drawing her closer to him, his face buried in her hair, unable to move or think. There weren’t many people he trusted, and even less that were able to come so close to him. “Natasha…” Another time, her name was flowing over his lips, he felt tears in his eyes and his voice unsteady, making the archer nearly cling to her. He didn’t want her to go.. Not ever. Not anymore.
“I’m here,” Natasha tells him softly, stroking her fingers over his forearm. This is weakness, right here in this moment, and yet she can’t break away. She made the decision to come back to him (always to him, not to SHIELD, who would sell her out without a second thought) and she’d known then just what it meant. That she wasn’t coming back to the agent, but to the man.
She welcomes the tightness of his grip, her hands slipping finally down to cover his around her. She can’t turn around, not quite yet. She can hear the emotion in his voice, and it’s too private. She’ll allow him this moment while she adjusts to the leaden weight of the guilt in her stomach. How could she ever have left him?
“Clint, I’m…” Sorry? Back for good? Never leaving you again? “Here. Right here.”
bannerandbarton reblogged this from inheritorofmemories and added:
Clint looks at her, he’s not that big of a mind, really, but he understands a lot. And so he understands what she’s...
inheritorofmemories reblogged this from bannerandbarton and added:
Natasha rests her hands on his chest, fingers twitching slightly with the need to make him understand - well, that and...