So sorry about the confusion guys! I accidentally posted the same chapter twice. *holds up hands in defense* please don't kill me! Thanks to everyone who let me know that I messed up:) So, (hopefully) here's the REAL chapter 8!
Clint was laying in bed staring up at his ceiling when he heard Natasha's scream. Before he could register a thought, he bolted out of bed and across the apartment, where Natasha's room was. She was sitting up in her bed, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. In one hand, she clutched the knife that she kept nearby at all times. Clint knew immediately by the haunted look in her eyes that she had had a nightmare.
"I'm right here, Natasha," he said softly, putting a gentle hand on his partner's shoulder. She blinked, gradually bringing her focus back to the land of the living. Clint took her hand and gently massaged her fingers until she relinquished her iron grip on the knife. He set it gently on the nightstand and took her face in his hands.
"Clint." Her voice was the barest hint of a whisper. She squeezed her eyes shut and unconsciously leaned into his touch. The pair was silent for a few moments while Natasha fought her demons and locked them up in the darkest part of her mind where no one was allowed. After what seemed like hours, she opened her eyes.
"I'm fine," she said with a steel voice, already back to her usual iciness. Clint detected only the barest hint of horror in her eyes. "I'm fine."
"No you're not," Clint murmured. He stroked her hair gently. Natasha stiffened. "Don't push me away, Tasha," Clint pleaded.
Natasha felt her resolve weakening. His touch made her shiver, keeping her constantly on edge. His sharp eyes pierced into her mind, breaking down the walls she spend years building up like no one else could. Like no one else would.
"Fine," she muttered. Natahsa allowed him to pull her into a hug. It was strangely comforting. She gave a small, humorless laugh.
"What is it?" Clint wondered aloud.
"It's just," she started still letting her partner hold her, "we're compromised. A few years ago, I would have shot myself before I would have allowed myself to feel anything even remotely affectionate for a man. We're so compromised, I don't even know why we're allowed on missions any more."
"Lay down," Clint said suddenly.
Natasha wrenched herself out of Clint's warm embrace. "Excuse me?" Her eyes were steeled, and she had one eyebrow raised, clearly conveying a disapproving message.
Clint smirked. "Not like that, unless that's what you want." He flashed a cheeky smile. The Russian groaned. That annoying little... "I was kidding," he said, hastily interrupting Natasha's dangerous thoughts. He rubbed her shoulders soothingly. "Just lay down. All I want to do is hold you."
Natasha was perfectly still for long enough that Cling thought she might have fallen asleep again. Not a muscle twitched. Finally, she made up her mind and complied with the archer's wishes. She laid back on the mattress and turned to her side, facing the wall. Silently, Clint laid down beside her, arranging himself so that her back was pressed up against his chest and he had his arms around her. He rested his face against the back of her neck, a few strands of her fiery hair tickling his forehead. He exhaled
"Alright?"
Natasha nodded, not trusting her voice to say anything. She closed her eyes and forced her body to relax, telling herself that he was not there to hurt her. She finally breathed calmly. It felt good to be held like this. it was new to her, something she had never experienced in her twenty-something years.
In his arms, she felt safe for the first time.
Do did I do okay? Is this the same chapter, or does it make sense now?
See y'all next week!