[ She finds him first. He's fast, and he's strong, but Natasha— Natasha knows.
Three weeks later (three weeks where Natasha dreams in fragments, of things she is and was, of things they tried to make her under his thumb), she checks in on him again. Her keycard unlocks his room rather than hers, and she means to plan the three bugs she always plants before he finds and breaks them. But it's— routine, almost, and maybe there's an insignificant value in that.
Maybe they're all just children after all.
The gun ends up beside her desk. He's in her room and her shower, and Natasha— she pauses in the doorway of the bathroom. Watches him through the steam, the fogged glass of the shower cab.
She undresses slowly. Each item of clothing removed and pooling at her feet before she joins him, her cheek pressed against the middle of his shoulderblades, and she— breathes. Just breathes. ]
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Three weeks later (three weeks where Natasha dreams in fragments, of things she is and was, of things they tried to make her under his thumb), she checks in on him again. Her keycard unlocks his room rather than hers, and she means to plan the three bugs she always plants before he finds and breaks them. But it's— routine, almost, and maybe there's an insignificant value in that.
Maybe they're all just children after all.
The gun ends up beside her desk. He's in her room and her shower, and Natasha— she pauses in the doorway of the bathroom. Watches him through the steam, the fogged glass of the shower cab.
She undresses slowly. Each item of clothing removed and pooling at her feet before she joins him, her cheek pressed against the middle of his shoulderblades, and she— breathes. Just breathes. ]