Theirs had always been a precarious balance of power, and never more so than at this moment. Natasha doesn’t do uncertainty, not like this; it’s too dangerous for her to be so professionally and so she’s never allowed it to creep into her private life… Not that it’s so private anymore, not with half of SHIELD out looking for her.
The laugh he gives is warming, a balm to the reality of the situation. In place of responding verbally, she simply rests her hand on his forearm, stroking her thumb over the muscles tensed beneath the skin.
She needs this contact for just a few more moments before she decides; if she’s going to ruin them both, she wants this to remember them by. To know that no matter what happened, there was somewhere she could always go.
Slowly, Natasha looks up at Clint, memorising every single detail. She knows it by heart, but this is the last time she’ll look at him and not know how it feels to kiss him.
Almost as though she’s afraid of breaking them both - and it’s ridiculous, she knows how much he can draw, the power in her own hands - she shifts again, eyes locked with his as she leans closer. This is her putting herself in debt to Clint again, she knows, but it’s worth it.
The kiss, when it comes, is feather light, barely more than the brush of their lips together. There’s no lightening bolt, no chorus of angels - just the absolute, unwavering certainty that this is just exactly what should be.
He had always thought of them together, but either Clint himself or Natasha had drawn the thought away as fast as it had came. Clint knew back then already that a private life was something neither of them really had and that relationships and this silly thing called love were only dangerous for their job.
But right now, he doesn’t care. Right now all he feels is her thumb on his arm, his muscles tensing slightly under her touch, involuntarily. The only thing counting is her own choice, something he would never dare to try have an influence on. He would only try changing her choices when he’d know that she’s in trouble.
Her head rises and his eyes meet hers again, her gaze wandering over his face in wonder, as if she hadn’t seen him ever before. Clint doesn’t understand why, but she knows what she wants and she knows what she’s doing, so he trusts her. He trusts her and the next thing he knows is her coming closer and his heartbeat stopping.
Her lips are meeting his own and there isn’t something about it that would be able to kick him off the uncomfortable sofa, but it feels right. It feels more than just right. It feels like it was always meant to be. Her lips are warm and soft against his, nearly no pressure though, but he doesn’t dare to lean in further. He can smell her skin now and he even means to feel her heartbeat, as his eyes close, memorizing the moment to the last detail.
He doesn’t know if this will ever happen again, so he memorizes it. Everything. His own heart beating somewhere between his stomach and his throat, he isn’t sure where, his fingertips slowly brushing over her cheek and those lips on his own, making him feel like everything is alright. Like nothing could hurt him. It makes him feel whole and complete and takes the pain of the last weeks off him.
He ends up leaning in further, just a little, little bit, so their lips are together, more noticeable, but he doesn’t dare to move them. For now, he only tries to capture this moment, forever, in his memory, not knowing why she does it. Or if she’ll let it happen again.
It’s simple. The best things always are, she’s found, but it still shocks her. The process of fighting it has been so intensely convoluted that it seems almost futile now.
As Clint leans in further, noticeable only to someone as close as she is now, Natasha knows that the time when she could draw back is gone. They can only move forward now, and it’s that knowledge which allows the simple press of lips to shift into a kiss, the first moment where it is more than crossing invisible lines.
Moments like these have always intrigued her, and to find herself pliant (although far from passive) in his hold is a surprise. Her fingers tighten on his forearm, as though trying to anchor herself, but her capacity to notice such details - or even wish to notice them - is diminished by the need to discover the numerous ways their lips fit together.
If come morning, she thinks, there’s only a cell at SHIELD for her, it’ll be worth staying. For him. The thought is terrifying, a gaping chasm of weakness, but it’s fact.
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...