Blackbird
Chapter 2
"Take these broken wings and learn to fly."
(The Beatles)
The mornings were always the same, one of us would be gone when the other woke. I had been thankful for that in the last few months. Nothing was the same and I was afraid sometimes, a lot of times but. He knew that.
Clint knew that and he stayed, trying to repair whatever had been broken between us.
On missions, we were flawless. Reading each other so easily that it shouldn't have been humanly possible. How could someone gather so much through the twitch of brow or bat of an eyelash? It was like nothing had happened. But then we came home.
He tried to give me space. He would stay behind to finish the mission reports, letting me come home and crawl into bed before he was even on the way home. This time it was different.
Before, we both couldn't wait to get home and go through our routine. Shower, dinner, bed, and we stayed together. Never tiring of the other's presence, even after Budapest.
We got home and I started shedding my suit before he had even fished closing the door. It was sweaty, filled with sand and uncomfortable to say the least. Clint quickly averted his eyes, concentrating on anything but me.
I was finished, standing in my underwear, telling myself it was okay. Clint had seen my body before and I wasn't a shy teenage girl. Even when I was a teenaged girl I has never felt this naked infront of anyone.
Clint was so concentrated on removing his arm guards that he tensed upon feeling my hand on his arm. He finally look at me, at my eyes, not my body. He was just as afraid of me as I was of him.
I moved my hand up to his shoulder, resting it there while I let my other hand do the same on his other shoulder. I could feel how tense he was as I moved my hands lower to his chest, using one of them to unzip his vest and reveal the black muscle shirt he wore underneath. I slid my hands under the vest, letting them rest on his chest.
I watched him, waiting for him to say something but, he didn't. He didn't really have to. He said everything with his eyes, like when we were on missions, his hazel eyes would scream at me with whatever emotion was stirring inside of them. I slid my hands back up to his shoulders, pushing the vest off if him.
Her hands were ice on his burning skin. The touch felt familiar but, foreign, making goosebumps spread down his arms. She slowly slid her hands down and took his hands in hers. He was tense, she knew that, so she took a step back.
But, just as much as she was willing to let go, he was willing to stay.
He took a step closer to her, hands still touching hands, now chest touching chest. She was was still cold, willing to distance herself to keep from melting but, she was warmer now. Just as he wasn't as burning, not as words, they both thought, hoped, that maybe they were leveling each other out. Maybe.
She led him to the bathroom where she turned on the shower as he shed the rest of his clothes. They both stepped into the wonderfully temperate water and both made a silent agreement to just be with each other. Her face buried into his neck, tickling as her lips moved to make silent promises. His head on top of hers, lips pressing into her damp hair. Nose to nose, face to face, just looking into each other and not through.
No words, just batting eyelashes and raised eyebrows. They were warm, even stepping out of the shower, the two assassins ate and then went to bed. Their routine. She let him hold her and she placed her warm hands in his. She was sleeping, breathing steadily without a single sound and Clint's mind was quiet.
Everything stopped spinning and prodding at his brain. He didn't feel the usual anxious burn in his stomach. He didn't even notice that he had fallen asleep until he was awoken by the hot sunlight shining through the blinds hours later.
It wasn't until then that he noticed that he was alone again and the familiar hot burn returned to his stomach.
ouhhh, short chapters are what burn me, sorry,
longer, happier chapters are in the making
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