Kiss With a Fist
You hit me once, straight in the shoulder, I raised my arms to guard myself before hitting you back, straight in the stomach. While you your body reacts to my attack you give me a kick, hooking your leg straight behind the knee causing my leg to buckle underneath me and for us both to fall to the floor as I drag you down with me, slapping your back repeatedly as I do so. I can gradually feel our fight moving away from the training room, you slam my back against the door frame and my legs instinctively wrap around your waist.. My black eye doesn't cast a shadow over my love for you, just as your red eyes don't see any blame. When you slap me they don't stick in my memory; when you kick me it never hits, we both know it's just the game we play. As you press your chest to mine, forcing my back further into the door frame I can feel blood, both yours and mine sticking to my skin as sweat drips down my back. We have both been damaged; we have both been hurt and we open up locks we've put around our hearts the only way we know how; we break them. A kick in the teeth is good for a serve and you know that the kisses I give you, although they come with fists, are better than none.
I've broken your jaw once before causing the stitches you'd only just had done in your mouth to split and spill so much blood on the floor, you returned the favour a few minutes later by breaking my leg. That fight was still the most destructive for our flat. What had started out as a normal training fight had escalated quickly, you ended up smashing a plate over my head and, in retaliation to the broken jaw as we fought our way through every room in the apartment, including the kitchen and bedroom where I set fire to our bed. I crouched on the floor next to my side of the bed and you mirrored my actions on your own side. We'd both stared into each others eyes, willing the other to break eye contact first. The smoke and flickering light from the fire slowly filled the room and it had been in that moment when I'd ducked my head, momentarily breaking the staring contest we'd been having from across the room, and began to laugh a slow, light chuckle which soon erupted into a laugh that was soon shaking my whole body. It was barely a second later when I heard you laughter mix with mine. I looked up at the sound of the fridge opening and saw you entering through the bedroom door, two open bottles of beer in your hand, letting out another soft chuckle I grabbed the bottle you held out to me and took a swig before we both sank to the floor to watch the bed burn.
I'm brought out of my memories by the feeling of your lips against my neck, your body is still pressing mine against the door frame and my legs are still wrapped tightly round you, but your arms have moved to my waist and your touches are now gentle.
"You okay Tasha?" I hear you whisper in my ear, "You zoned out on me for a second"
"What can I say" I mumble back, just as quietly "I feel safe around you" I move my face into the crook of your neck to hide the growing colour in my face. "Clint... Do you think Fury would mind if we lit a little bonfire on the roof?" Your chuckles shake my body as you let out a low laugh.
"Ooh so that's what you were thinking about was it? I don't see why not" you reply "so long as we don't end up setting the whole building on fire this time, I don't think he'd be too happy about relocating a whole agent building again just because of us"