Natasha loved thunderstorms. The way the wind moved and how the rain came down in buckets. She'd stay up at night and sit by her window, just watching the storm. For some reason it always calmed her down.
Clint hated thunderstorms. He hated the rain and the lightning, and most of all he hated the thunder.
But he wasn't scared of them or anything. Absolutely not.
"Barton, would you sit down, you're making me nervous." Natasha said irritably. Clint had been pacing the room for the better part of an hour, ever since the rain had started. When the thunder hit he turned his head slightly toward the window before resuming his pacing.
He was moving like a caged animal, muttering nonsense under his breath.
Natasha let out yet another sigh and stood up from where she was sitting on the bed. "Would you stop?"
When he blatantly ignored her she grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the bed.
"Tasha, stop, let go." He tried to pry his hand from her grip. "I'm fine, Tasha, really."
Natasha whirled around, eyebrows raised. "Fine? You call pacing back and forth for an hour and muttering to yourself incessantly fine? Really?"
Her eyes held his, daring him to disagree. Clint's lips pressed together in a thin line but he didn't argue. He knew she was right.
When he didn't retort she pulled him up after her on the bed, wrapping herself around him so that she was pressed up against his back with her legs stretched out on either side.
"I should be nervous more often." Clint teased, grabbing her hands from where they lay against his chest. He leaned into her slightly while keeping most of his weight off.
"Don't push your luck Barton." She said. It was light and teasing and so Natasha that it made Clint smile.
Another clap of thunder sounded but Clint didn't jump. He just stayed in Natasha's arms. She was humming softly under her breath. He had no idea what the song was but it was perfect. She was perfect.
"I love you, you know that right?"
He probably wouldn't have had the guts to say that if he'd been able to see her face. But then her body tensed and it occurred to him that she could strangle or knock him out very easily in this position.
An agonizing minute passed by before he felt her head bury itself into the crook of his neck. "I love you too." She whispered. A stupid, dopey grin lit up his face. He kissed her hands as she went back to singing. He could've been wrong but he thought he could hear a smile in her voice.
Eventually the storm died down, leaving puddles and mud in its wake. But Clint didn't notice. All he cared about was the beautiful redhead that was slowly singing him to sleep, the woman who'd finally admitted she loved him back.
Maybe storms weren't so bad after all.