literature

Unmade ch. 2

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Literature Text

The group crowded around the tiny establishment's only undamaged table. The restaurant owners had insisted on cooking up every last scrap of food in their kitchen as their way of thanking the Avengers for defending their little piece of the world. The food wasn't fancy, but it was hearty and the weary warriors found comfort in the simple fare. No one seemed up for light conversation, so they ate in companionable silence.

Steve was exhausted physically and mentally, leading a team of volatile strangers against an alien invasion wasn't exactly the reintroduction to the world he had envisioned. As he glanced around the table at the tired faces of his team, he felt a strange combination of pride and relief.

Pride because they had managed to save the world with immeasurable odds stacked against them; and relief because their greatest hurdle was learning to operate as a cohesive unit. Every individual skill set on the team was needed, but it was their ability to work together that had won them the day.

Clint pushed his basket of French fries towards Natasha, giving her a half grin when she grabbed one and popped it in her mouth. She smiled back, but he could see the shadows of exhaustion and pain in her lovely eyes. It was easy to forget that the famous Black Widow with all her deadly talents was still a mortal woman with no otherworldly powers. She turned her attention back to her food, her hands trembling ever so slightly when she picked up her pita.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. marksman gently cleared his throat, nodding at her seat when Natasha looked at him. The spy immediately understood and slid forward in her chair to allow him space to prop his foot up behind her. Clint shot a warning look at Dr. Banner as he did so; the man had been stealing glances at Natasha since they left the tower like some smitten schoolboy. The doctor quickly found something more interesting to look at. If the other Avengers noticed the borderline possessive posturing, no one was going to comment on it. Clint was too exhausted to give a damn what they thought anyway.

When the Avengers arrived back at Stark Tower there was someone waiting to greet them. Pepper Potts, who had just stepped off her emergency return flight to New York moments prior stood at the top of the entrance steps. The tall strawberry-blonde practically flew into Tony's arms, kissing him like the world was still about to end.

A few moments later Natasha awkwardly returned Pepper's embrace and allowed the woman to usher her and everyone else back into the tower. Despite everything that had transpired in the last 24 hours, somehow Ms. Potts had still managed to arrange accommodations for the whole group including Dr. Selvig and sent the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents dispatched by Nick Fury to keep an eye on their 'special guest' in test lab 30. Agent Romanoff wondered if Stark would ever fully appreciate how lucky he was to have that woman looking after him.

They all ended up back in the decimated lounge area on the top floor, Tony poured more drinks and the group took a quiet moment to watch the sun dipping behind the New York skyline. One by one the Avengers began retreating to their borrowed beds for the night.

Clint and Natasha were the last remaining. The master assassins stood side by side looking out at the world they had barely managed to save, almost but not quite touching. Clint considered the broken city sprawled out below them, his heart twisting with empathy. Midtown was as thrashed and torn up as he was. But then again, skyscrapers could be rebuilt, roads repaved. Would he be able to set right the wrongs he committed under Loki's control? Natasha had told him on the Helicarrier that none of what happened was his fault, but it didn't change the fact that he had the blood of his friends and allies on his hands. Again.

"Clint. Stop doing that to yourself." Natasha chided quietly. She turned into his chest and pressed herself against his hard frame, trying to pull him from his dark thoughts. Every muscle in his body was taut like the string of his bow. The spy knew few words of comfort and even less of affection, so she simply clung to him, sighing with relief when Clint wrapped his strong arms around her. His hand caressed the back of her neck and Natasha couldn't help the little shiver of desire that coursed up and down her body at his touch.

"Tasha…" Hawkeye murmured into her fiery hair, drawing comfort from her warmth, sweet scent and the steadiness of her pulse under his fingertips. Warning bells were ringing in Clint's mind, they were crossing a dangerous boundary drawn between them years ago.

Ever since Barton had put everything on the line to take the infamous Black Widow off the S.H.I.E.L.D. hit list and onto its agent roster the pair had become… Something more than two people working together. They were more in tune than partners, more intimate than lovers, closer than old friends. This made them a formidable combination in their field of work, but it also forced them to walk along the edge of a knife. They had decided long ago not to act on or even acknowledge any feelings that might become a liability later on.

But now in the wake of everything they had gone through the past few days, it seemed that neither Hawk nor Widow were willing to go back to the way things were. Natasha had never been so close to losing Clint in the most horrible way imaginable, and she realized now that losing Clint meant losing the only good part of herself.

So when Clint tipped Natasha's head back and searched her face for hesitation, he found none. His lips brushed hers lightly at first; igniting little sparks in her skin and making her breath hitch in her throat. Natasha returned the kiss with more force, desperate to drown in his scent and taste and feel.

Clint responded in kind and backed Natasha against the wall, trapping her between it and his muscular frame. Thrills coursed up and down Natasha's body, she gasped when Clint's mouth left hers to kiss and bite a searing trail down her pale throat. She ran her hands over his shoulders; then suddenly stiffened.

Barton glanced up to see what the matter was, cringing when Natasha showed him her blood-smeared palms. She shot him a glare, though it lacked her usual venom considering her cheeks were flushed with desire and her breath was coming in shallow gasps. "Are you serious, идиот?" Natasha berated him. Clint laughed, kissing her lightly before pushing away from the wall.

"Glass is kind of hard to remove from your own back. Think you could help me with that?" He asked in an unapologetic tone, turning to collect his bow and quiver. Natasha shook her head and followed him back to his room.
Chapter two of Unmade! In these first couple chapters I am trying not to stray from what would work timeline-wise in the last bit of the movie, so please bear with me if it seems a little rigid. Things should smooth out here in a bit. ^_^ Things heat up a teensy bit, but I still consider it PG13 so I didn't put a warning on it, hope that's okie... >_>

Thanks for reading, comment for free cookies! :heart: :cookie: :heart: :cookie:

P.S. these characters do not belong to me, I just like taking them out to play! ^3^

p.p.s. I forgot to mention, according to the trusty interwebs, идиот is Russian for idiot/moron/fool etc. In case that isn't obvious. ;)
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hawkeyesmyguy's avatar
And here I am. :3