Okay. Gonna post that new Clint/Natasha fic tomorrow, since I want to make a graphic for it, and I’m too lazy to go downstairs and boot up my computer today. It’s the weekend, the time when I park my ass on the couch and goof off.
But I will be nice (or evil, depending on how you look at it) and give you a teaser. :D
“Fuck you,” she seethes, not even really sure why she’s so furious; she had thought the same thing, even if she couldn’t go through with it. “I will not—I cannot kill you, Clint. I refuse. There is always another way, goddammit.”
Suddenly he’s looking at her like he’s never really seen her before, like her anger flipped on a spotlight and revealed something that even she refused to acknowledge.
Their orbit destabilizes. They crash together.
His lips are hard against hers, bruising, his hands hot against her skin, his body damp with nightmare sweat and warm from the blankets. She yanks his t-shirt over his head, lets her fingers linger on his scars (some she bandaged, some she put there), lets him roll her underneath his body because she can tell he needs that just as much as she needs to feel the solid reality of him.
‘Love is for children,’ she told Loki, and she was only half-lying. She had always thought that love made you weak, made you stumble, made you hesitate. It was a distraction, and she lived a life that didn’t afford leniency for distractions.
But Clint got under her skin. She didn’t know if she loved him or if it was something deeper, something that went beyond love. She couldn’t remember ever loving anyone. This was virgin territory, and it scared Natasha even while it made her stronger.
Killing Clint would have been the easy way out. She took the hard road, and it brought him back to her.