bakerstreet | intimacy meme

intimacy meme

Intimacy is the glue of any relationship, albeit romantic or friendship. It's getting to the root of humanity, and expanding upon ourselves and letting others in.

Rules:
1. Post with your character.
2. Go to rng.
3. Post to others.
4. Profit

Scenes:
1. First Kiss. Maybe you've been harboring feelings or maybe this is random. But it feels good to be that close to someone.
2. Love Confession. You have been head over heels for this person and now it's time to try and get close to them.
3. Secrets. You've been hiding yourself from someone and now it's time to stop. They need to know the real you.
4. First Time. First time you have sex is always nerve racking, but it's in these moments that you show how much you truly care about someone.
5. Shower. Perhaps you've been together for awhile. Maybe you've told each other everything. Maybe you're just dirty and need to get cleaned up. But letting the water flow between two people is still pretty intimate.
6. Friends First. You've been friends for a long time but now it's time to take it to the next level.
7. Road Trip. Tacky motels, driving in a car or RV, living off beef jerky and soda, switching off between driving and navigating, oh the joys of a road trip but you wouldn't have it any other way.
8. A Friend in Need. You're close than close, best friends, former lovers, something else or in between but now they need you. Or you need them. And one of you is on the next plane/train/automobile to see the other.
9. Lazy Sunday. Whether you're lovers or friends or just roommates, Sundays are those lazy days to do a whole lot of nothing, watch movies, read the paper, breakfast in bed, or just some sex. Relax, enjoy the day, enjoy each other.
10. Free verse. Did I leave something out? Want to combine? Make up your own or pick from the others.

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Everyone had secrets, it was a way of life, but some had more than others. That was their own business and Clint Barton normally didn't care - he had enough secrets of his own, after all - but when those secrets started to affect their work, when those secrets almost got him killed, well then they became a problem.

He knew Natasha had a lot of demons, she had been a complete mess when he had found her. SHIELD had put their best people on it, had done all they could to reverse the damage done, to patch her up and make her whole again, but even now he felt there were still some key pieces missing. Of course he had done his part, Fury had pretty much assigned him to her full time unless he was away on assignment, his punishment for disobeying a direct order and letting her live. He had to prove himself all over again, had to prove that he had made the right call, and the only way he was going to do that was if he could prove her trustworthy. More than that, he had to trust her himself, trust her to have his back.

Stopping just outside the door to her quarters, he knocked sharply.

((hope this works for you. If you need edits lemme know))

It had been quite the road. No one should have seen, or done the things that Natasha Romanoff had done. None of it existed, however. At least it shouldn't have. She was only a child when they found her, seven to be exact. They promised her good things, and promised that they would take care of her if she did as she was told.

She would never be normal, or completely free of the demons that rooted deep into her subconscious after she made her first kill. Each time after that only reminded her that they were still there.

The assignment they had just returned from did not go as planned, and so, when they returned to headquarters she went through the debriefing before locking herself in her room. Truth be told, she wasn't sure how to feel about it all. More importantly, she was unsure what to think about Clint and how he almost died.

When she heard the knock, she looked up at the door as if she could see whoever was beyond it. It took a moment longer before she got up from the edge of her bed and opened it.

He was the last person she wanted to see.

It took her longer than necessary to answer the door, and Clint had stared to wonder if she planned on just ignoring him when it finally swung open. Her expression was blank, her usual mask, but he could tell she didn’t want to see him right now. Deciding to skip the pleasantries he jumped right in.

“It’s hard to trust people you don’t know, I get it, and I suspect even harder for you, considering,” he said. He couldn’t even imagine having to deal with what had been done to her on a daily basis. To have someone screw with his head so bad, to take his willpower, to control him... he didn’t know how he’d handle it. He had to admire her strength for fighting through it.

“If we’re going to continue to work together, which we don’t have a choice, by the way,” he continued. Fury wasn’t about to let him off the hook until she proved, without a shadow of a doubt, to be one of the best agents they had. “We’re gonna have to have each other’s backs, so it’s about time we really got to know each other.”

SHIELD had been good to her since she arrived. They'd been patient, supportive and even kind, but there was definitely an understanding between her and the organization - particularly with Fury - that if she ever showed signs of reverting back to her old self that they would have no option other than to remove her.

As it was, she didn't want that. She didn't want to become that ghost who only existed to keep her employers hands clean. Still, that was what she was, and always would be, whether for the bad, or the good.

After he'd finished talking, Natasha motioned for him to come in. Clint was the sole reason she was still alive; the only one to see her through the thick walls she'd built to protect herself. Of course she wondered how, and even why he disobeyed direct orders to save her. Until then, she knew she owed him.

She sat back down on the bed, hands on either side of her and looked up at him.

"What do you want to know?"

She didn’t argue, didn’t even say anything, not that Clint was surprised. Natasha seemed to be a woman of few words. She answered questions when asked, said what was needed at briefings, and that was the majority of it. It was time to change that even if it was just with him, just this once, just now in this room.

Walking into the room, he waited for her to shut the door behind him and sit back down before he took the small wooden chair from it’s place at the desk, turned it so the back faced her and straddled it, folding his arms over the high back.

“Well, let’s start with whatever it was that made you freeze out there today,” he said. There was no note of accusation in his voice, no disappointment nor anger; it was direct, even, and didn’t need to be punctuated in any way. The bandage on his arm from the narrow miss, standing out starkly against his tanned skin and black clothing, was enough.

Natasha expected that to be his first question. It had been the third time someone asked her it, and each time, she told them that it was too soon, that maybe she wasn't ready to be sent out, particularly if there was a chance that she would be faced with her past.

One look at Clint though and she was sure he wouldn't buy it.

Pulling her hands into her lap, she let her gaze drop to them, and remained quiet for a few long moments before speaking.

"The target's real name is Yuliya Isayev," she started. "We trained together back in Russia. I would have been fine if she hadn't seen me, but as soon as she did.." Natasha stopped and furrowed her brow in frustration.

"We were taught to only trust ourselves in the field. But after, we were still little girls and friendships were formed."

It sounded foolish to her now.

Clint watched her closely, the way she folded her hands, how she wouldn’t meet his eyes. He took in everything, even as she spoke; everything, not just the words. It almost made him sick thinking about what she must have gone through.

He hadn’t had much of a childhood himself, losing his parents when he was only six years old and being stuck in foster care before he and his brother had ran off to join the circus. The circus hadn’t been all fun and games either, but none of this could even begin to compare to her experience. She had been stripped of her childhood and been turned into little better than a machine while most kids were playing games and having fun.

So that had been it, then. She had known the target, had cared about her once upon a time, and so she had hesitated.

Unsure what to say, Clint unfolded on arm and reached out to take her hand, not sure if she’d even let him or not.

“I wish I could save everyone,” he said quietly, “but some people are beyond saving. You weren’t, and I think what happened today only proves that.” If she had been so far destroyed that she didn’t care then he wouldn’t have hesitated in completing his mission.

Most of her childhood had been of memories that anyone would wish to forget, and perhaps most could in time. For her, however, everything she learned was burned into her, a scar that could never be removed or hidden. It didn't take much to remember them. The training sessions that if not performed to the best of her ability resulted in long punishments with a leather studded strap, or the endless push ups she would have to do with a nail embedded board under her thighs. All of it was meant to make her better, stronger; to never, ever allow herself to fail.

What happened that day was an embarrassment, and no matter how many times the other agents told her differently, Natasha saw today as a failure.

She wasn't allowed to fail.

Natasha only raised her eyes to focus silently on his outstretched hand. She didn't take it, in fact she only stared, her brow creasing as if confused by the gesture.

"But how did you know that?" she questioned, a moment later her eyes now fixed on his. "You knew who I was. What did you gain by sparing me?"

When Natasha didn’t take his hand, Clint figured she wasn’t ready for contact so he rested it back on the chair again, propping his chin on his folded arms. There was something in her expression, though, as if she didn’t understand the offer of such simple comfort. Did no one ever offer her a hand to hold? A shoulder to lean on? Considering her past it wasn’t really surprising so much as it was just sad.

He held her gaze as she asked her question, stealing himself against it. He knew this was going to be a two-way street, that if he wanted honesty from her he’d have to offer the same in return, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Sometimes I still ask myself that same question,” he admitted. “I saw something in your eyes when you thought I was going to kill you.” Dropping his eyes to her hands, just needing to look away from her eyes for a second while he gathered his thoughts, when he raised them again there was resignation in them, as well as determination. “My life doesn’t even begin to compare to what you’ve gone through, but somehow I saw something of myself in you, I guess.”

Spotting a liar was pretty easy as far as Natasha was concerned, and coming across them happened more often than not. There was the typical signs: resisting eye contact, repeating the question before answering it, and when they did the answer was usually bare bones. But one look at Clint and even her other methods of being able to detect a lie came up that he was being nothing but honest with her.

No one had ever wanted to simply help her for the sake of being kind. To her, it was a lie, often leaving a person exposed to being both vulnerable and weak. Two traits she was trained never to be. It left a person exposed to betrayal and manipulation. Trusting people was not in her nature, but for as hard as she fought against it, she found herself daring to trust in Clint.

The tension eased a little in her shoulders then, though when she spoke, her tone remained guarded.

"Who saved you?" she asked curiously. "And what kept you from going back?"

Because that was quickly becoming a fear of hers and she couldn't understand why.

Clint didn’t like talking about his personal life. Sure, he got along with his fellow agents and they knew things about him; favourite foods, books, movies; all the usual things you get to know about someone when you work with them long enough. In the end, though, that’s what they always were to him: just coworkers, and he didn’t feel the need to share with him who he really was.

Very few people knew the real Clint Barton. Fury knew of his past, had personally plucked him out of jail and given him a second chance, and Phil Coulson had been tasked with organizing Clint’s training and assessing him at every turn. These were the two people he knew the best, the two who knew him and the two he might have claimed to trust if pushed to it. The last one was debatable, at least in the case of Nick Fury. It was hard to fully trust a man that had to keep so many secrets and only revealed what was necessary.

So why did the archer suddenly find himself opening up to this girl? He had been completely honest with her: even though his past couldn’t even begin to compare to hers, he still saw something of himself in her. Coulson had been there for him, a friend when he needed it, and that was exactly what Natasha needed right now, whether she knew it or not. Baring his own soul was a small price to pay if it got her through this and to the mindset she needed to be in to continue here.

“Director Fury,” he answered, though it was in the most literal sense. “I stayed because... where else would I go?” Leaning forward a little further into the chair, he let one arm dangle down the back of it, his chin still propped on the other folded across the top. “I had nothing to go back to, no one who cared what happened to me, and here...” his brows pinched together just the slightest bit causing a small crease between them. “I wanted to stay. I felt I had a purpose here, that I could use my skills for good, not just entertainment.”

Natasha nodded in understanding. It had been Clint who had offered her the same chance at a different life, the same kind he lived now and had been for a long time. She had spoken to Fury a number of times outside of receiving her assignments. He told her that she was strong, both in mind and physically, and the only way her past would catch up to her now was if she let it. It made sense to her.

She looked up at him, her expression even, though deep down, the longer he stayed in her direct line of sight, with his arm bandaged up and visible for her to see, Natasha felt a rush of guilt.

Her past almost caught up to her.

With a sigh, she shook her head. "Neither do I, but there are people who do care what happens to me. I betrayed them and now, they'll do whatever it takes to take me out."

And whoever else she was working with.

Clint watched as she just accepted everything he said with a simple nod and suddenly he didn’t feel so anxious about saying it. She didn’t press for more information, didn’t try to offer comfort or sympathy, she just accepted it. He felt the tension in his shoulders relax slightly, though visibly he remained just as casual as ever.

Even better than the fact that she didn’t ask him to elaborate, she instead offered up a bit of herself, which was exactly why he was here. For this partnership to work out there had to be equal give and take, and though she still seemed fairly closed lipped, she seemed willing to meet him halfway. Maybe he had just had to get her alone, in her own space; or perhaps it was the events of the day that made her willing to cooperate. The reason didn’t matter, only the result.

“Another good reason to stay. We look out for our own, Natasha,” he said, giving her a level look. “And I can pretty much guarantee that whoever did this to you,” he didn’t have to elaborate on what ‘this’ was, “is already on our lists. The question is, if you end up on that mission, if you draw their names, will you be able to do what needs to be done without putting anyone, including yourself, in danger?”

Had he asked the question the day before, Natasha wouldn't have hesitated in in saying she would be able to do it. Without a doubt. But then after seeing Yuliya, and nearly costing SHIELD on of their best agents, she wasn't a hundred percent sure. How was she to know that kind of plan they had in case one of their agents double crossed them? If they could get close enough to her, would there be a method to force out the deadly Black Widow that they created? Would they turn her against the organization, or worse, Clint?

It was something she wouldn't know until it happened, and rather than lie, Natasha stared at him with a look of uncertainty.

"I have no idea what part of my head they still have access to." she told him. "They created me, Clint."

As much as she hated answering it like that, it was nothing but brutal honesty. Her eyes softened, and before he could see the fear in her eyes, she looked away.

He didn’t like that uncertainty in her eyes, but what did he expect? After that close call did he really think she would claim she was fine with everything and could do her job without hesitation? If she had claimed that he would have been more disappointed, he knew, because it would have been an obvious lie. At least she was being honest with him, and that was the biggest part of this whole thing.

“No, they made you who you are - who you were - but they didn’t create you,” he replied firmly. “You’re doing well, Natasha. Everything they did to you you’re fighting it off, fighting back. They don’t own you.”

He couldn’t guarantee her that there wasn’t still some switch in her head that could be flipped at any moment, but it was a risk he was willing to take, a risk he had taken by sparing her life and bringing her here. He just had to believe that the more she had here, the more good she did and the further from them she got then the more confident she would get, and the easier she would find it to believe that she wasn’t one of them any more, she was part of SHIELD now.

“Here,” he said after a moment, and held his hand out to her again. “Give me your hand.”

There was little difference between the two as far as she was concerned. Everything that he saw was a direct result of their doing. Perhaps they forgot something, or maybe it was something so small that even she was unaware of it that he saw that day he found her, but one thing she knew was that there was no point in arguing, or thinking about it now. Clint Barton managed to pull back the walls long enough to see a flicker of someone capable of so much more than she was, and then helped her see it.

He was right though. She was doing well. Natasha wasn't a machine anymore, no longer expected to just do her job and then move onto the next. It was odd how relaxed she found herself now. An even odder realization that they seemed to care about her, even in knowing who and what she was before. She had killed some of their men, a few of America's dignitaries, and yet, they were willing to give her a chance.

Now she would do whatever it took to never let the old her resurface.

When he held out his hand again, she glanced down at it with much the same look she had the first time. But, instead of hold back, she found herself surprisingly giving him her hand.

"Why?" she questioned, watching him curiously to see what he wanted with it.

He watched the confusion on her face and felt a hint of sadness well within him. such a simple human comfort and she didn’t even seem to understand the purpose of it. After a long moment, after having to tell her what he was reaching for, she finally took his hand. He squeezed it tightly yet gently.

“Sometimes we all need something to hold onto, something to remind us what’s real,” he said, holding her gaze just as firmly. “Think of it as a lifeline. If you feel yourself slipping away, just remember this, right here, right now. Okay?”

Maybe if the gesture hadn't been so foreign to her. His words were pretty straight forward, but without ever needing something to grab onto, or have something there to ground her when she felt like she was spinning out of control, she honestly wasn't sure what it felt like.

Still, Natasha nodded and without realizing it, her fingers curled around the edges of his hand gently, almost as if she needed that reminder right then.

"Okay." she replied softly, eyes still fixed on his.

Clint wasn’t sure if he was truly getting through to her, or if anything he was saying would even help out in the field, but for right now he felt good about it; for right now he thought that maybe, just maybe, she might turn out just fine.

“Okay,” he repeated with the hint of a smile. Giving her hand a final squeeze he let it go and got to his feet.

“Now get some rest, it’s been a long day,” he said as he moved for the door. “I want you in that training room for 0700 hours tomorrow.”

It would take some time, but she did get through, if even a little. What became more clear was the fact he didn't plan on giving up on her. What happened that day was a lesson learned, and from this point onwards, she would work at not letting him down.

A hint of a smile played on her lips then, and when he released her hand and instructed her on where she needed to be in the morning, she nodded.

"I'll be there." she replied, looking up at him. "You better be, too."

Stopping with his hand on the doorknob, Clint chuckled and looked back over his shoulder at her.

Oh, I’ll be there,” he promised with a grin. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

Progress; they had definitely made progress today, he could feel it, and it gave him hope that this all just might work out after all.

“Goodnight, Nat,” he concluded, opening the door and walking out. It was the first time he had ever called her anything other than Natasha, or Agent Romanoff, but it seemed to roll off his tongue naturally.

Yeah, this might just work.

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intimacy meme

Natasha Romanoff | MCU | Open

3. Secrets, baby

XD

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