bakerstreet | (no subject)

Sleep is broken by nightmares tinged in so many blue hues and always accompanied by that silver-tongued voice in the back of his head.

He's awake, sweat soaked sheets laying limp around his waist. Breathing comes is gasps and waves as if he's sinking in the sea.

[Having grown used to the nightmares that tinged Clint's mind, she had learned to use her own covers when they shared a bed so she wouldn't wind up with his sweat soaked ones upon her skin.

Shifting slightly she heard the gasps coming from beside her which caused her eyes to open as she sat up beside him, a cool hand coming to rest against his sweat covered back.]

She awoke when he started moving, the mattress shifting beneath them both. She could see the sweat glistening on his skin but didn’t risk waking him, didn’t risk touching him even when he woke up with a gasp, sitting bolt right up in bed. Propping herself up on her elbows behind her, Natasha gave him a moment to come back to reality.

“Clint,” she said his name softly, watching him closely for any sign of recognition and lucidity.

He wasn't even aware enough to be cautious. Broken sleep was a habit both of them had, Clint just seemed to have more 'episodes' since Loki.

It took him a moment, rolling his neck to the side, shaking the blue away. A longer moment of staring at nothing across the room, an even longer moment of calming his breathing, swallowing and blinking.

"Yeah.." He risked looking back at her, drank her in and clung onto the mental image of her sleep-tousled hair, sleepy eyes and stoic look on her face, anything to keep him grounded. "I'm here, sorry."

She watched him work it out, let him have a moment to steady himself. Only when he spoke to her, only after he looked at her, did she finally sit up beside him. His slick skin and the sweat drenched sheets didn’t bother her; it’s not like they hadn’t gotten them sweaty together before. Slipping one arm around his shoulders, she curled her other hand around his bicep and leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said, turning her head just enough to place a soft kiss to his skin before resting against him again. “I’m here too.” And she always was, whenever he needed her.

He couldn't stop his muscles from tensing at her touch, terrified that the blue hadn't left and this was just a moments relapse before the grand finale. Clint squeezed eyes shut, bracing for an impact that never came.

A minute passed by, counting down silently inside his head until he reached out and touched her leg over the sheets still around them both.

"It's not okay.." He didn't think there'd ever come a time when he wouldn't finish beating himself up about everything that happened. Never. He smiled though, shakey through the sudden burst of adrenaline, "I know. Don't know what happened." He felt lost, like he'd felt all those years ago as he'd put of determined faces to protect a brother who'd gone against him.

"Sorry I woke you.."

She felt him tense but she didn’t flinch, just showed complete confidence and trust in him. Unknowingly she mimicked his tactic, counting in her head as well until she finally felt his touch. Even though she showed little sign of tension she relaxed against him.

She knew it wasn’t okay and she appreciated that he could be honest with her instead of trying to put on a brave face like he did with everyone else. She didn’t want him to hide from her, not her. He needed someone who knew and who understood, and she was glad to be that someone. “I know it’s not,” Natasha admitted softly.

Running her hand down his arm, she stopped at his wrist, her fingers finding his pulse, lingering to feel it slowing back to normal. “Don’t be sorry,” her voice remained quiet, soothing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He was tired of putting on brave faces, when Fury constantly looked at him like he was going to explode, when the rest of the 'team' faltered to make eye contact with him. Clint saw it all but just smiled through it like he always did. Because he was damn good at being patient.

He needed her to keep him grounded, everything she did gave him reasons to keep fighting, to keep building defences to keep Loki out. Even if Clint felt sometimes he was loosing, like now.

A chill brushed over his skin but he ignored it, the light touches of her fingers against his wrist keeping him there. He knew what she was doing, Clint had watched her do the exact same thing to herself long ago. Keeping an eye out, checking him over.

He shifted quickly, fingers gripping her wrist before relaxing his hold and sliding them down to curl around hers. "No, I don't want to talk about it." It was a sore point, a topic he couldn't talk about.

"Just need to be more careful I guess." A half laugh, strained but there, "Should probably try and get more sleep while we can huh?" Just an excuse to curl back up with her, to have a moment of solace.

Natasha body tensed a moment when Clint suddenly grabbed her wrist, but she relaxed again when he moved his hand down to hold hers instead. She had to be the strong one, and for all intents and purposes she was, but that didn’t mean she had no fears either; he wasn’t the only one who had nightmares. She had been able to save him from Loki once, but what if it wasn’t enough? What if it was only temporary? She couldn’t guarantee any more than he could that he was completely free of Loki’s control, she could only hope he was and trust in him and herself. She would do anything and everything to keep him grounded and keep him with her.

After he refused the offer of unloading she didn’t push the subject, that wasn’t how they worked. If he wanted to talk about it he knew she was there to listen, but if he didn’t she wouldn’t try to force him to just like he had never tried to make her speak of her past. They had an understanding: they were there for each other to chase away the demons, but it was up to themselves when and if they spoke of the things that haunted them. “Okay,” she said simply, kissing his shoulder again softly.

The laugh was strained and it made her heart ache to hear it. She missed how freely and honestly he used to laugh. “You don’t have to be careful around me. Don’t even think of trying to avoid waking me.” It was a reassurance, a promise, and a warning. She wanted to be here, and she wanted to be here for him. If he needed her she did not want to sleep through it, and she would be less than pleased if he let that happen.

She didn’t answer his question, just moved her arm from around him and gently urged him to lay back down, their hands still intertwined, her head still against his shoulder. Sleep would not return easily, but she wasn’t about to pass up the chance to curl up against him again.

It had to be enough, if Natasha's comfortable weight wasn't enough to scare the remnants of whatever was left behind away then Clint had no hope. He didn't want to be grounded, didn't want his wings clipped, wasn't comfortable with sitting on someones shoulder and watching forever. Sure he stood in the shadows but he still had a main role in all their plans.

This was how they worked, there was hardly ever unloading because they both carried too much weight of the world already on their backs. Everything was done in micro expressions, clint left breadcrumbs in place of words, her body language told her everything he ever needed to know. An encyclopedia of unspoken languages.

Her kiss made his muscles twitch, he squeezed her fingers softly in return. He nodded at her words, he knew arguing was pointless because she always had the upperhand with him. He'd lay down his life for her, he'd be her shield if she needed it.

Clint let her guide him, limbs heavy and skin sticky. He twisted slowly, pressing lips to her forehead, free hand reaching to trail aganst her arm, fingers roaming along her skin. "Did this happen to you?" Words were less than a whisper, not sure if she'd answer or even entertain his question. "Was it this hard?"

She smiled softly, faintly, at the kiss, her body molding itself against his side like she’d done many times before, one leg hiked over his, her head resting against his chest. She contemplated the question, memories she kept hidden bubbling to the surface. She lived with a lot of guilt and regret, but she never made excuses for the things she had done. She had been controlled as well, brainwashed, trained and programmed until she was the perfect killing machine, but she had still been able to think for herself, unlike Clint when Loki had him. She had been able to break free of the Red Room, to strike out on her own, and when Clint had given her the choice she had chosen to go with him.

“Yes,” Natasha admitted quietly. Once SHIELD had gotten hold of her they had removed blocks in her mind she hadn’t known were there, revealed memories that had been locked away. It might have driven a weaker person mad. “For a long time there was the feeling that they would come back, that they would somehow flip a switch and make me their puppet again.” The nightmares had been bad then, but as time went on they grew less frequent.

He'd admit it a hundred and one times just how much he enjoyed her company in this caliber. Considering her leg was wrapped around his as if she was really anchoring him down. It was welcomed, because he often wondered if these lingering thoughts of Loki were making him float away.

The silence was so loud in his ears and he half wondered if he'd made a clinical error in asking her. He'd been the one to bring her in, he'd been the one to show her his trust by having her at his back, but they'd never fell into a discussion about her past because Clint figured he didn't have a right to know and if she ever felt he did she'd be the one to start the conversation.

But he needed this, he needed to know if it was easier then he thought it was, if he was the one clinging onto the shadow or if the shadow was really still clinging onto him. He stroked fingers over her arm, along the faint line of a scar he could make out in the dark. "I need to get a handle on this, don't need Fury taking me off the roster." His wings were already bent out of shape, he didn't need tethering to the ground, he'd already done a good enough job of constantly beating himself up about all the blood he'd caused to spill.

"I'll get better," It was an unspoken promise.

As much as she’d prefer to forget her past, to never talk about it, Natasha knew he needed this. He needed to know that he wasn’t alone, that she understood what he was going through, not just because she thought she did but because she had lived it too. If he needed her too, if it would make it better for him, she would lay her soul bare for him. Only him.

She raised her head to look at him after his proclamation. She didn’t want him off the roster either, he was her partner and while they had their own missions at times when it came to working with others it was never the same without him. With anyone else it always felt off; they were always a second later than they should be, a fraction of an inch off the mark; worst of all they couldn’t read her like he did, the didn’t have the same way of silently communicating that made the two of them the best team the SHIELD had. She didn’t want to lose him as her partner, nor in any other capacity.

“I did,” she said, watching him. “It took time, a lot more than you ever saw, but I got past it and so will you. And I will be here with you, every step of the way.”

Clint couldn't work with anybody else, not really. They didn't understand him, didn't get his mannerisms or his sarcastic humor when the going got rough. His one-liners were lost on other agents. Natasha was the only one who got him, the only one who'd wound up under his skin in a way only she could. An addiction, he'd figure it was. He needed her to guide him, to be the left hand to his right, to have his back as he had hers, to unwind, to stay alive for. He had nothing else.

"You're stronger than me, to live through what you have. I have a few days of being pushed out of my own body and I fall apart. You had years of it yet look at you. You shine like a beacon, you're beauty, strength and trust all rolled into one." Clint sighed, hand leaving her arm to rub along his brow, smoothing out the creases for a second.

She was his focus point, he needed that reminder and with their position she was currently giving him something to hold onto, literally and figuratively. When he got so dependant he wasn't sure, it was a dangerous situation but it worked for him.

Clint’s words affected her more than she expected, but then she hadn’t expected the words either. Her expression was as indescribable as the emotions she was feeling; gratitude, disbelief, and that overwhelming swell of love. She had given up trying to deny it to herself even if she never admitted it to him or anyone else. She had loved in her past, when she had been so young, and both times her heart ha been left broken. After that she had decided she would never let herself be that weak again, never let another into her heart, but somehow over the years Clint Barton had weaseled his way in there without her even knowing until it was far too late. It had taken almost losing him to realise she couldn’t hide from it anymore.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, leaning up to place a kiss against his jaw. “It’s all because of you,” she continued. It was truth, he had given her a second chance and it was because of that that she was able to shake off what was done to her and discover who she really was. “Everything I am. I would be nothing if not for you.”

It was the most honest she had ever been about it, but she felt he deserved to hear it, maybe even needed to right now.

He managed a more convincing smile. It was gone, that feeling of dread, that blue hued tint. Instead he was drowning in red probably because he'd nuzzled his face into her hair, but red he figured was better than the cold sting of cyan.

"You'll make me swoon if you carry on." Barton was back to cracking jokes that really weren't funny to anyone but him in his own mind, but it was a step closer to the safety net and away from the danger zone.

"I'll be alright, have to be, someones got to watch your ass."

It was strange this sudden realization of feeling like he had something stable in his life, a rock he could hold onto in a sea of crashing waves. When everything else is stripped from him he knows Natasha will always be there. Gratitude doesn't even cover it. He'll give her his trust, his companionship, his soul. Fuck, he'd give her the stars, the moon and everything else up there if he had that power.

He tugged her closer into his dishelved mess of a nest and hands were already reaching to bundle the sheets, to repair the damage he'd done and when he'd finally finished he was content with himself to press lips to the corner of her mouth, wrapping an arm around her back and holding her close.

Natasha smiled at the joke, feeling the last shreds of anxiety fading. She knew it wasn’t permanent, that the spells would continue, but for now he was back to himself again.

“I know how much you enjoy that job,” she said, pressing her body a little harder against his with a grin. “I would hate to see you deprived of it.”

Letting Clint pull her closer, she lay still while he adjusted the sheets until he had them to his liking. By the time he was done she was practically on top of him, not that she was complaining at all. Tucking her head under his chin, she snuggled into the warmth and comfort he provided.

Wrapping her up was easy, limbs seemed to move on their own accord to bring her closer by any means possible. Whether it was arms curling around her waist, or the fact he moved his legs and positioned them in a way that allowed her to slot into him.

Everything came easy with her.

He lent his chin on her head, stroked a hand up and down her back even though she wasn't the one who needed calming in any way. The gesture was still there because it was comforting for him as well.

"Watching your ass is probably the best job Shield has to offer, I'm surprised people aren't jumping at the chance to take over my role." Not that he'd let them, it was hard enough watching her work let alone not being the one to cover her.

Natasha closed her eyes and relished in the moment. His body warm and solid beneath her, his hand moving comfortingly over her back, his voice back to that familiar carefree tone she had come to associate with him, all the while knowing his mind was far from free of cares. Even the familiar smell of him only partially hidden beneath the sweat was a reminder, and she breathed him in as she ran her hand up his chest and over his shoulder.

“How do you know they’re not?” she queried, putting on a serious mask. “Maybe I just keep turning them down.”

Completely untrue. None of the other agents would dare approach her with such a proposition. Only if Fury ordered her to work with someone else would she, but only after much protesting, and even then it wouldn’t be pleasant for her new partner. It would be the shortest partnership ever.

His muscles flexed at the touch of her hand. He felt dirty and awkward but the skin on skin touch was a reminder and helped to put his feet back on the ground. He wouldn't float away, he'd always be safe as long as Natasha was there with him.

"Because you'd tell me, and I'd have made use of my boomerang arrows."

His finger ran over the notches of her spin, one at a time, carefully counting the ridges under his skin. "Don't tell Fury, about this," Clint murmered, "He doesn't need to know, right?"

Natasha laughed lightly at his reply. His wide array of trick arrows never ceased to amuse her, but the boomerang one had to be the most amusing of all. Only Clint Barton would ever request such a thing.

“You are just itching for an excuse to use those, aren’t you?” She teased.

Shivering involuntarily as his fingers moved slowly down her spine, she raised her head to look at him following his question. “You really need to ask?” Directory Fury was their superior, but that didn’t mean that either of them went running to him with any bit of information he may think he should know. Through this whole ordeal Natasha had been a staunch supporter of Clint’s. In the beginning, when he had clearly been affected, she hadn’t lied for him, it would have been suspicious, but as he got better and showed no outward signs of any lingering affects she had his back and claimed him recovered. Only the two of them knew the truth, and on nights like these they dealt with it together. “As far as Fury is concerned you are 100% back to how you were before, no lingering issues.”

"Hey, they're boomerangs, they're handy okay" Clint half wondered just why he had to defend them, and why nobody else had actually realised the beauty in an arrow that came back to you.

He caught her gaze, held it with a small smile twitching his lips. This was supposed to be a serious conversation, but she always had the habit in making him smile even when she didn't mean to. "No, I just wanted to double check." He didn't want to be cut off, if Fury knew he was still potentially a liability he'd be off active duty and locked up someplace he didn't want to be. Natasha would be forced to work with somebody else or on some stupid solo mission with nobody watching her back and Clint would just be miserable.

"Double edged sword, we shouldn't lie to him, I could be a liability, but I don't want us to be seperated." He wouldn't be able to cope without her weight beside him, not now, not when all he needed was her to take his mind away from Loki and make him feel like himself again.

“Maybe I should start training with boomerangs rather than guns. I would never have to worry about running out of ammo,” she mused playfully.

After everything that happened, it lightened her heart to see his smile especially considering the conversation. She would be worried if he were too serious.

“I know, but some things are worth the risk,” Natasha said quietly. “I’ll watch your back and keep you in line. If they even tried to stick me with another partner I would eat the poor man alive. So really, it is in Fury’s best interest to keep us together.” The last thing she wanted was to be separated from him either. She would be in a constant state of worry; what if he awoke one night and she wasn’t there to bring him back down? Maybe they should tell Fury, but not now.

"Now you get the picture, they always come back to you, no matter what." Didn't matter if he ran out of arrows that way, not with the boomerangs.

To know he was worth her risking everything was something he couldn't grasp. She'd been on their radar in the worst ways at one point, she'd had to face years of people not trusting her with only Clint's voice to assure them. Now the tables had turned and he was the one who would recieve odd looks.

He lent forward, into an awkward position and firmly pressed lips to hers, stealing a quick kiss because really, he couldn't actually formulate anything that would describe how much her words, hell, just her in general meant.

"Just need to get rid of him for good. It might take time, or it might be really easy and I'm just missing the point. Doesn't matter, I'll work it out." With Coulson gone Clint only had her as his confident now. Without her, with just Fury's gaze Clint would rebel. It was his nature. "Glad to know you'll be there though, because I need you, I really do."

For a moment Natasha wondered if he was using ‘boomerangs’ as a metaphor, the way they always found their way back to each other, but she quickly brushed it off. This was Clint, he wasn’t big on metaphors and most likely meant it just exactly as it sounded; he was merely talking about boomerangs.

Closing her eyes at the brief kiss, Natasha smiled again as she rested her chin on his chest. Sometimes they didn’t need words.

“Get rid of him for good?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s very ominous sounding, Barton.” She didn’t get to press him further, though, because he said something that, were she one of those mushy women who read romance novels, she might have describes as making her heart melt.

He needed her.

Plenty of people in her life had wanted her, even more just wanted to use her, but nobody had ever needed her before, no one had ever needed her, demons and red ledger and all. “Just try getting rid of me,” she said, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin before snuggling closer, if that was at all possible.

(no subject)

Clint Barton / Hawkeye | MCU

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)