It's strange, really.
When I walk down the streets of New York, because I'm just too damn tired to hail a taxi or ride the jet and land on Stark's landing pad on top of his obnoxious tower, I see normalcy that feels abnormal to me. Normal girls wearing normal clothes and the latest fads. Normal boys falling in love to the scent of normal girl's perfume and the normal girl charm. Normal women coming home from work into the arms of normal husbands.
Everyone is so predictable, their ways so strongly tied with their routines.
What bothers me the most is how normal the couples are, walking down the same pavement, being illuminated by the same lights you once destroyed. Avoiding the debris of fallen buildings, still uncleaned, buildings that fell because of you. They're holding hands, they share shy glances, they say 'I love you' more than once, all wide-eyed and innocent because that's what love is, isn't it?
Innocent. Untainted. Pure. Unadulterated.
But look at us. Take a good hard look at what we've become. I don't know if it's love or if it's the mangled, beaten version of love. Twisted by our demons, slashed by the talons of the monsters that unfortunately don't live under our beds or lurk in the shadows. Those monsters are us. And yet we've sheathed our swords, we've put the safety on our guns, we've tried our best to sew our lips shut because we're afraid to say something we'll regret and that's what love is for us. Tucking away all our weapons, driving away our demons, and simply hope for the best. When I first met you, when I first looked into your emerald eyes, you tried to kill me. How many times have you tried to kill me? How many times did I retaliate, and in turn, try to kill you? You tell me. I don't know, you know. All those normal women and men -we're not children, are we? I am not a girl and you are not a boy- holding hands when often I want to take yours and break it into little pieces, and when you use your hand to slap the skin on my cheek, tightly stretched accross bone. Kissing each other's skin softly when everytime we pull away from skin our lips are stained with red, with whose blood, I don't know. Taking each other's hearts and promising to keep it safe from harm when all I want to do is touch yours, and break it. Watch it crumble underneath my touch. Waste away. Break. Shatter. Puncture your skin and make you bleed. Figuratively and physically. I'm sure you feel the same.
Those normal couples have arguments too. Hard to believe isn't it, when their normalcy almost doesn't have room for petty outbursts and childish tantrums and jealousy. But when they do they can kiss each other's lips and it's done. It's over. Funny how our fights last for months, and it includes blood and destruction and chaos because we both know our ledgers are dripping red. And sometimes, life would be easier without you. If one day you disappeared, or died, and finally paid for all your sins, I don't think I'd miss you. If I lost you, I wouldn't need you, I wouldn't be incapable of everything I can do now. If you hurt me, I wouldn't feel betrayal. I would feel anger. But not at myself, not at our love -if you can call it that- but at you. At who you are. At what you've done.
Before you walk out that door, let me finish.
The only reason why I continue to do this, to keep you in mind when we're out shooting things and causing chaos and wreaking havoc, to place bullets in the hearts of those who try to hurt you, is because I want you. You're not a hero, you're not a prince charming, but you're learning. I'm not a hero, I'm not a princess, but I don't need to be a princess and I don't need to be a hero and you don't need to be your counterparts either because you don't need to be a god, to be a highly trained prince charming, to have a cape to be mine. And I want you because you're not, and you don't even try. You love me because I'm not either, and I don't even want to try, I'm fine with what I do.
I kill. You kill. I don't need saving. You're not a hero.
We're not perfect. We're not normal. But I want you.
You want me. And that's okay. Listen. I never want to be a normal couple because that's what makes us normal. Going out of the usual and unconventionally holding hands, kissing skin and protecting each other's hearts. So that's why I go through every single night of crying and fighting and trying not to murder each other in our sleep because I want you.
Not more than anything in the world, but close. I love you.
Strange, isn't it?
Sorry for waking you up. You can go back to sleep. No nightmares. I'll be here.
End
Author's Note: This was in Natasha's P.O.V. and if you haven't noticed yet, she's talking to Loki :-D BlackFrost, yay! I am IN LOVE with this ship. Really. SORRY FOR THE REALLY BIG HIATUS ON MOST-heck- ON ALL MY STORIES :-( I hope this sorta makes up for it...?