A.N: Apologies for the length of time between uploads, foolishly I find myself with three or four projects on the go at once and I confess I have neglected this one for a while :-( Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I always love to hear what you think.
This idea has been rattling around in my brain for a few days - hope I've done it justice.
He finds her out on the balcony, a cup of coffee clasped between her palms as she stares out across the valley. She has always loved this particular motel in the fall and it's reassuring to know that some things never change. Natasha is not a summer girl but a woman made for the glacial beauty of the winter months and she is most at home here as the days grow shorter and the leaves fall.
"You always did love this view," he says softly from the doorway. If his presence surprises her, she doesn't let it show in her facial expression or body language but merely curls the corners of her lips up into a smile. For the first time he notices that she is wearing one of his shirts over her jeans, a pale check patterned one that he has worn and washed a hundred times. It suits her, all of this suits her. Clint knows in the moment that he likes her in his clothes and in his life, that she belongs there.
"Who wouldn't?" she replies quietly. "What's not to like?" Her eyes sweep across the view that captivates her so and he smiles to see her happy with such simple things. Watching her reaction to this view is what had prompted him to book this room over and over. Even now, six years after their first visit, he can't regret the impulsiveness of his actions where she is involved, not when this view reminds him almost entirely of her. "Sitting here it's like the rest of the world is a million miles away. I can hear myself think here."
He understands the sentiment completely. The motel is not the most attractive, nor the easiest to reach from the road but that is part of its appeal. It has been a relief to him to know that they can both appreciate its rustic charm and relax here. This is their place. No matter where life takes them, or whether they are together or not, he can't imagine ever bringing another woman here. If she was to walk out of his life tomorrow this would always be her place to him.
Slowly she lowers her legs from the railing and turns to face him, tearing her eyes from the view. There is a thunderstorm in her eyes and it captures him almost as soon as her gaze meets his own. Even when she isn't trying to be alluring, just one glance from those emerald eyes is enough to heat his blood. He doesn't know when it happened, only that every day he wakes up with her in his bed he is glad that spared her life all those years ago and made her a part of his life.
"That look on your face," she chuckles, raising an eyebrow in his direction. "Something on your mind lover?" He doesn't miss the flirtatious tone that creeps into her voice as a slight flush creeps through her pale skin. That look tells him that whatever he has in mind she is on board with the plan, especially if it involves them losing some or all of their clothing and replacing it with one another's body heat.
"I've always got something on my mind when you look at me like that," he agrees, sipping his coffee from the chipped stoneware mug that he favours. He likes this good-natured flirtation that exists between them almost as much as he likes the scorching chemistry that they share. There is a lot to be said for chemistry and that they have in spades.
He steps out onto the balcony, setting down his coffee cup on the small bistro table as he approaches her, stopping when he is close enough to wrap his arms around her slender waist. The way she leans into him is the most soothing balm she can give him, her skin warming his own through their clothes. He turns her in the circle of his arms so that she once again has the view that she adores, keeping his body close to the back of hers, chin coming to rest on her shoulder.
For a long moment neither of them speak, just enjoying the tranquillity. Carefully he withdraws one hand from beneath hers and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the small jewellery box that he has been concealing there since they arrived two days earlier. Heart pounding, he knows that the moment is right.
"I have something for you," he tells her, planting a soft kiss to her shoulder. Before she can turn he slides his hand back to lie in front of her, turning his palm so that she can see the box he holds. For a moment he's glad that she can't see the expression on his face, worried that she might not like it, that she will think the gesture antiquated and foolish. "It's not a tattoo or anything but I hope you'll like it."
He fingers shake as she takes the box from him, hesitating before opening it as though she too is afraid of what it might contain. Slowly she lifts the lid, the golden sunlight catching the sparkle of the white gold and diamonds within. Fingers tracing over the contents, she sighs, her body relaxing in his embrace, free hand coming up to cup his cheek at her shoulder. "It's beautiful," she tells him and he knows from the tone of her voice that she means it.
She pulls the necklace from the box, admiring the delicate chain and the small arrow pendant that was suspended between sections of the chain. The arrow-head was set with diamonds, just enough sparkle to catch the light, not enough to draw too much attention. "I know that you won't be able to wear it most of the time but I wanted to get you something for your birthday," he tells her.
She doesn't like her birthday, it's something that he has never understood but he accepts it. Something in her past has closed her off from the concept of celebrating her years on the planet but that doesn't mean he can't mark the day in a way that she will like. Judging by the smile on her face, he has made her happy. That is, and always has been, enough for him.
Handing him the chain, Natasha lifts the heavy weight of her hair to give him access to her neck, allowing him to fasten it in place. As she turns again to face him, she kisses him softly, her lips brushing against his own. "Thank you," she whispers. "You never stop surprising me." The kiss is a promise that they are together and that they will stay that way, freely given in the press of her mouth against his own and acknowledged in the grip of his hands at her waist.
"Happy birthday Natasha," he murmurs. "Now come back inside and cut your cake."