Past the Mission - locked to nolongeracarny

[kick_ass_curls]

She couldn't help wondering how much more blood a living person could lose before they weren't so living anymore. She'd been though this before so many times she'd lost count. No, that was a lie she never forgot when someone died on her watch. She got on with her life and eventually they faded away. The job always came first. Always.

This was different. This was...him.

Natasha used every ounce of energy she had to get Barton out of the line of fire. Everything became such a clusterfuck so fast she hardly had time to think. No exit strategy. No back up. Clint may as well have been dead weight the way she had to carry him to the nearest shelter.

Natasha Romanoff stopped believing in God decades ago, but that didn't stop her from pulling Clint into the one place she knew wouldn't sell them out to get slaughtered. She looked up at the cross on the mission house door, pauses half a second before she kicked the door open and dragged them both inside.

It was a good thing she didn't care about God, because the next thought in her head would have pissed Him off. 

Fuck you, Budapest. Fuck you forever.

Comments

[nolongeracarny]

He wasn't getting up out of the bed. All he wanted was his bow at the moment. Taking the quiver he sets it aside and then taking the bow, he smiles. "Thank you." His fingers run lightly over the bow before he lays back.

Grabbing the bow string he pulls it as taunt as he can which isn't much thanks to his injuries and he growls. It was going to piss him off.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

"Clint." Again she tries to get his attention with his name. Natasha watches him try and it breaks her heart when it doesn't work.

So much of who he is is wrapped up around that weapon, his job and he doesn't have that now. "Don't push yourself, please?" She moves closer, sliding her hand over the one he's holding the bow with. "You need time to heal." Natasha whispers as she considers if she should try and take the bow from him. "You can't force it."

[nolongeracarny]

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, "Stop telling me I need time to heal." She doesn't have that hold over him that his handler does. However, Coulson wasn't there. Nor did he have the man talking to him in his ear.

So he just tries again because he's determined to pull it as taunt as possible, As far as it'll go.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

Natasha considers snapping back at him but bites her tongue. She knows damn well she'd be just as stubborn as he's being. She doesn't have a hold over him. She doesn't want to control him she just wants him to be alright. Tasha has no idea how to make that happen.

She folds her arms and turns to walk away, unable to watch him struggle like that. It hurts, more than it should.

[nolongeracarny]

Unfortunately he keeps trying until his arm tires out and the pain gets the better of him. There's agitation in every fiber of his being even as he takes the bow and throws it across the room, not giving a damn where the thing landed.

To an extent not even caring if it broke.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

If Clint's hardware is anything like Natasha's it won't break from being thrown. She considers hiding out, leaving him brood but through it all she can't help remembering a time he didn't leave her when she was in his position. Hell, they weren't even partners then. She would have sooner killed him that look at him but...she didn't. Because Clint didn't kill her when he was ordered to.

Natasha picks his bow up and sets it on the bedside table. She pauses next to the cot, looking him over before she lays down next to him. It's not exactly roomy but she doesn't want him to freak out again. Maybe her being there will keep him calm. "What are you thinking?"

[nolongeracarny]

Perhaps it won't but it might be nicked a bit. Or it might not be hurt at all. There was really no telling where Clint's hardware was concerned. He's annoyed at how weak he feels. How... Then she's laying beside him despite how small the cot is.

"That I don't want to be laid up here. Annoyed that I can't even use my bow properly. There's only one good thing here." Her.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

"I know." She slowly reaches her hand up to his wrist, subtly checking his pulse. The doctor told her not to let him get agitated or accelerate his heartrate. Tasha seems satisfied with the fact his frustration seems mostly mental.

"Oh?" She pulls her hand away and looks at him. "What's the one good thing?"

[nolongeracarny]

His pulse was racing a bit with his annoyance at the bow. The fact that they couldn't go anywhere. Or rather the fact that he was injured and couldn't do a damn thing for himself. Then her question comes and he gives a small smile.

"You."

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

Now it's her turn for a racing pulse. Tasha's fingers noticeably twitch against his skin when he says she the only good thing here. She swallows, looking at him after a moment. "I..." Natasha starts, unsure what to say. There have been times in her life, a great many times that he's been the only thing that made her think the world wasn't complete shit, too. He knows. it. She knows it. They've just never said it out loud.

He...just did.

Tasha smiles, happy and frightened and everything in between. She leans up and presses a chaste kiss to the side of his lips. "Thanks, Barton."