The way you held me so tight all through the night
Till it was near morning
Because you love, love, love when you know I can't love
- Love Love Love (Of Monsters & Men)
"Wake up, Tasha," he says. Natasha knows his voice, and recognized his breathing patterns even before he had spoken. She is entirely safe with him—so naturally, she tries to fall back to sleep.
"C'mon, Tash," Clint insists wearily, "Phil's gonna kick our asses if we're late."
Natasha snorts, and rolls onto her side. Her partner is sitting beside her in bed, dressed in jeans and a fitted white t-shirt. She can see the bandages on his lean torso that she had methodically placed on him the night before. Somehow, this sends liquid fire flowing to the pit of her stomach.
It's too goddamn early for this, she scolds silently, but squeezes the pillow she'd fallen asleep with, tighter between her thighs.
"As if he could," she quips, "I'm tired. Leave me alone."
"Get up," Clint argues, tugging the pillow away from her.
"Did you stay the night?" she sighs, when it's clear that she's not going back to sleep.
"Yeah," he says with a hint of hesitance in his voice, "I didn't think you'd mind."
"I don't," Natasha admits with confusion. He usually stayed the night after missions, sometimes not intentionally. After supporting her all the way back to her room after blowing shit up, or whatever mission Fury had sent them on, he occasionally collapsed next to her in bed, still dressed in his uniform.
"That's good, then," Clint says, and smiles at her in a secret way. She isn't sure what this smile means because it's different from his smug smile, and his happy smile, and his satisfied smile. Natasha always used to think that she had her partner figured out. But ever since they started fucking and the introduction of that stupid, beautiful smile, she's had no idea what's going on behind his eyeballs.
Clint gets to his feet with odd grace, and wanders into her closet, giving her a convenient view of his ass. She leans back into her pillows, her eyes fluttering shut and pretends to be annoyed when he tosses a bra at her, followed by a shirt and jeans. They land on the bed and she reaches for them, peeling off the t-shirt that she had fallen asleep in last night. Clint comes to sit back down next to her as she straps on her bra. Yawning, she flicks the clasp closed.
"Still tired?" Clint drawls, his voice raw.
"A bit," she admits and reaches for her clean shirt. She feels his lips on her neck, dragging softly down to her collarbone. His tongue skims the base of her throat.
"I could wake you up," he murmurs against her skin.
"I'd love that," she says breathily, clasping his chin between her fingers to lift them to her lips. She stops when they're just an inch apart. "But we've got to get to that debriefing."
"Fucking hell," Clint mutters, and closes the gap between them, just for a quick second to press his lips to hers.
"You were so eager to see Fury a minute ago," she teases, adjusting the cups of her bra.
Clint looks at her incredulously. "That was before I saw you topless, you minx,"
"Fury's one eye doesn't turn you on as much as my tits? Shocker," she says, playing with her bra straps.
"C'mon, Tash, for the sake of my balls. Stop that."
"Oh, well fine, if it's for your balls' sake," she replies, smiling, filling to the brim with something like love. Clint gives her that unnamed grin again. And suddenly she knows what it is. What it's for. What it means.
"You love me," she blurts out.
His eyes widen for a minute, but then he nods sheepishly.
"Yeah."
"Okay," she says.
"Okay," he says, turning away.
"I love you too," she adds.
He freezes. She feels him tense, but after a moment, he relaxes. He reaches backwards and takes her hand.
"I know," he murmurs.