Written to: Glory - Radical Face, crosspost from AO3
I may be infrequently posting for the next few days (as in, not everyday) because I'm travelling abroad. Furthermore, if for whatever reason, AO3/FF is blocked in the country I'll be going to (which I kind of doubt, but I'm not excluding the possibility), then I will not be posting for the next 2 months. But hopefully this isn't the case. Either way.
Sarang: Love; literally: "I wish to be with you until death."
Clint practices reading his vows in front of the gilt-edged floor length mirror that resides in the corner of his and Natasha's bedroom, trying to prepare a typical speech for a ceremony that is anything but typical. The crumpled paper he holds in his hands has been folded once, twice, three thousand times it feels like, with blots of ink and smudges of charcoal and crossings-out and scribblings in the margins.
He doesn't feel like there are words to describe her, to describe them, but he tries anyway, tries to draw his feelings in syllables and sentences that do her absolutely no justice.
"You have been my best friend, my best love, my best confidant, my best challenge," he says quietly, so as not to wake Natasha, who is still asleep, one hand thrown over the comforters and cherry red curls corkscrewing over the pillows. He frowns, wondering if he ought to leave the last part out.
Natasha, who has been awake for a good fifteen minutes now, listens to him muttering to himself and smiles into her pillows.