Nothing Like Home
Summary: Still, she did love snow. Faintly a reminder of Russia, cold weather was just in her blood. She flourished in it, enjoyed the chill in the air more than the sweltering weather in the summer or the dreariness of the fall or the dampness of the spring. But evenings like this, when it snowed, just made it all the easier to curl up to. She felt safe.
Rating: T
Pairing: Clintasha [Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff]
AN: OKAY, so it's been a long time since I've finished any of my Avengers Assemble one-shots, and I figured that needed to change, so after I watched episode 14 [AMAZING EPISODE; 11/10 recommend], I knew I had to type out a little conclusion. I'd been looking forward to episode 14 specifically because it contained Yelena and I always love an episode where I get more Red Room knowledge, but I was bummed to find out that Clint wasn't /anywhere/ in it, which makes me sad. I love my kids, okay, I need them together at all times - especially when something as important as this happens.
So what did I do, naturally? I included him - in my own personal conclusion. I have a few more one-shots in the works, and I have an AU Civil War fic coming up and I PROMISE to update my AOU AU fic very very soon, I just need to have the patience to sit down, get the movie up, and change what I want to change.
Without further ado, enjoy!
[OoOoOoO]
The day had been a long one. She'd felt emotionally tugged, emotionally pinned, and reminiscent. But now was different. She'd needed the reminder of home, home /now/ and not what had been home then. Not the previous home that she wasn't even able to remember.
It wasn't a matter of how vivid she could recollect things to be, it was instead, a matter of the memories just not being there. Anything that /was/ there was foggy, painted over by memories implanted in her, memories that came after the days of her youth, proceeded by more detailed present memories.
It was better that way. The less she knew, the less she could ever miss. It was safer, and she'd be the first to say that.
Admittedly, she'd been charmed initially by the chance; anyone in her position would have been. It played with a human's natural curiosity. Most people didn't remember their childhood beyond a few vague memories, but hers were all catalogued in a hard drive, waiting to be watched, and she was saying no? Not many people would.
Yelena offering her her memories as a tactic for distraction had been tempting at the time, extremely tempting, and that went beyond her natural human curiosity. But what good would it do to remember a mother, a father, a family - all of which had long ceased in existing? It wouldn't do anything for her now. She wasn't a child, she was a grown woman and she'd already come to terms with all of it. Had grown from it and prospered in spite of the loss.
She'd mourned; she'd grieved; she'd moved on. Now was not the time for backtracking.
Besides, she was happy with how she was now - genuinely. How often had she been happy in her life? Infrequently at best. It'd all started years ago when Clint had brought her in. She'd been given a faint underlying happiness, even if it had mostly been the relief of freedom. It'd been scary at first - her life led without the lead every minute.
Contrary to it, she'd followed a strict, instructional schedule under the KGB's employment. Every moment had been accounted for and every moment had been devoted to being the best asset she could be. It was a lot of control and she'd grown used to it. It'd become second nature as much as knowing the exact location of every major artery in the body. She'd never had her complaints, because it'd been all she'd ever known.
But she'd been pulled from it, led from it, given the chance to better herself and find herself, and now she was who she was. She was happy, she was her own person, she wasn't just the Widow and she wasn't just a SHIELD agent.
She was Natasha Romanoff.
And dammit, was she happy just being that person. She didn't need the memories; she didn't need the past. She lived now, enjoyed now, was happy /now/. That was all she needed. The freedom of choice; the freedom of knowing herself and being herself. That was all there was to it.
What more was there to need?
She wound her shawl further around herself, removing her gaze from the TV in front of her and instead drifting to the half-drawn curtains, watching the flurry outside. Still, she did love snow. Faintly a reminder of Russia, cold weather was just in her blood. She flourished in it, enjoyed the chill in the air more than the sweltering weather in the summer or the dreariness of the fall or the dampness of the spring. But evenings like this, when it snowed, just made it all the easier to curl up to. She felt safe.
The turning of a door knob made her head turn and her suspicion rose and fell in that same second. She heard the faint beep of the security system being dismantled and her lips curved upwards; the familiar clomp of boots stomping against the rug confirmed the presence she'd been hoping for. Just what she needed.
The blond man stayed in the entry way, brushing off his coat half-heartedly with irritated sweeps of his hands, clenching his jaw in an effort to keep his teeth from chattering, no doubt a pride thing. "Man, is it /cold/ out there. Mid-November or not, I never get more prepared for this shit."
She chuckled in amusement and got up finally, tucking her shawl more comfortably around herself as she slowly maneuvered her way through the apartment to get to him, tracking the sound of his voice. She found solace in the way his eyes lit up when he turned to face her, shrugging off his damp jacket and hanging it haphazardly on a hook.
"I heard about today; Tony filled me in once I got back. I'm sorry that I wasn't - " But like usual, she didn't let him finish, closing their distance just to press her lips against his in a more-than-pleasant welcome, hand resting lightly against his jaw. His eyes widened briefly, not that he wasn't conditioned into responding with a vigor. She had this tendency to catch him off-guard and his body had long since adapted to it.
Frankly, his body looked forward to it most days.
She broke away too quickly, but still had occupied his lips enough for him to be faintly breathless once she did. His brow furrowed in vague confusion, his tone riddled in surprise. "Not that I'm complaining, because believe me - I'm not, but what was /that/ for?"
Natasha took her time in answering, sighing softly as she folded her covered arms around herself. "Long day. You heard the gist of it from Tony."
"I'm assuming you don't want to - " Talk about it.
"You assumed right." He always knew.
His grin was tight. "Yeah, figured. But hey, I'm home. You can be sure to give Fury an earful about sending me off when crazy Widow 2.0's run into town with Baron Strike Out and his irrational plan to turn an already uncontrollable mass of radiation into an uncontrollable mass of radiation that knows jujitsu." He sighed heavily. "Signed my resignation how many years ago and he /still/ treats me like one of his agents. And what happens when I decide to entertain him? I miss all the fun."
Her eyebrows shot up curiously. "Speaking of which, what was it? You've never been one to entertain Fury and his whims." He hadn't even had time to brief her before he'd been shuttled off this morning, and the bonus of radio silence had prohibited him from filling her in any sooner than now. It wasn't an ideal set of circumstances; it never was when one of them was left in the dark, minor or not.
"Oh, I'll give you /all/ the chilling details in a bit, so long as you relay to me just what it was like to have a Winter Hulk running after you." His eyebrows raised in interested. "Just - I'm freezing my ass off and I need to change before I can dive into my amazing story telling." He shuddered on emphasis. "Remind me again why you like this stuff?" Stuff, of course, being the snow.
This time, she merely shrugged. "I like the cold."
"Because you're /crazy/." Her glare made him backpedal. "But you're a good crazy. Did I say I love you today, yet? Because I don't think I did." That made her glare soften just a little.
"A Midwestern boy can't take a little snow?"
He raised his hands in defeat. "Hey, just because I grew up with the stuff doesn't mean that I /liked/ it. Shoveling it day in and day out was enough to practically give me some kind of allergy to it." Despite the fact that the entire statement lacked logic.
She rolled her eyes at his exaggerations. "And you call /me/ crazy."
"With love, mind you, with love." He insisted with a underlying bit of cheek.
She backed up, turning down the hall and walking towards the kitchen with a less-than-convinced 'Mm-hm' echoing off of the walls. When she heard his path change to head towards the bedroom, she called, "Want me to get you some coffee?"
Her smile was all too broad when his five second delay in reply echoed back:
"I knew there was a reason why I love you!"
Snow didn't remind her of home, Clint did. And there was just nothing like it.
[OoOoOoO]
AN: Hope you liked the read!
Reviews are my life; don't kill me!