Chapter 7-Natasha
She readjusted her legs in front of her as she felt the blood flow slow down.
She twirled her pencil once, twice. Finally she wrote, 'Sunrise is your favourite time of the day. '
[3 months back, Mumbai]
They stumbled out of the bullet-studded warehouse, tired and injured. They'd gone in the previous night, and the whole mission lasted the through night and stretched into the early hours of the next day.
"Natasha..." Clint said hoarsely.
"What?" she snapped back, her energy-and patience-running dangerously low.
"The sky..." he stopped walking. His arm was still draped around Natasha's shoulder, and so she stopped too. He pointed up at the sky over the waters. Natasha looked up, and for a moment she was transfixed.
The white-headed sun was bobbing above the glassy-smooth waters. The sky was streaked with crimson and orange, like it was on fire, and the clouds were dipped in autumn hues. Gold rippled through the waters and painted the tips of the great, hulking buildings.
"It's...beautiful," she said softly, the corners of her lips curling into a small smile.
Then, without warning, Clint pulled her in, wrapped her in his arms and for a moment, their lips locked and the air around them was alive and electric. In a heartbeat Natasha felt all her weariness, all her pain melt away in a pool at her feet. She ran her hand along his cheek, and he held the back of her neck.
Then they slowly pulled away, and she let out a breathy laugh, the first of its kind in a long time.
"Let's go," she smiled, "I'll call the chopper. "
"Sure," he said, and turned back to looking at the morning sun.
[present day]
When she thought about that day, she could still feel the hot, sparkling air surrounding them, and taste the blood and gunpowder in their kiss. She snapped out of her trance and got back to thinking.