Clint x Natasha FanFic's

Senseless-unknown author

Senseless

Natasha was standing on the edge of a cliff.

There is no wind whipping through her flaming red hair, but still she shivers. There is just the stillness. A promise of isolation and seclusion in a place far away from everything where she and Clint had agreed to spend their leave of absence. Golden sunlight trickles onto her body, warming her, cocooning her in a rare moment of serenity. Her body tremors in the unsavory tranquility and she is, ultimately, unable to enjoy it because her body is telling her that peace is dangerous. Peace is the silence before the storm. She exhales, releasing the tremors into the atmosphere.

She waits.

She waits because she knows he's coming and she decides that maybe it's best to make use of her time. She unbuttons the shorts she's wearing and lets them slide down to her ankles before stepping out of them. The rough, denim fabric scraping lightly down her soft, fair skin. She reaches her arms around the bottom of her white tank-top and slips it with ease over her head before shaking her hair out once more.

When she hears his footsteps on the overgrown grass and weeds her lips twitch up into a small smile, but she does not turn around. If anything she freezes up even more, her toes digging into the rocks and dirt as she stiffens. He gets closer, and then he stops. Even without seeing him she knows that he's removing his shirt. She can hear the rumple of the fabric of his cargos drop to the ground and she grins.

He knows she's smiling even though he can't see her pretty face. The sunlight burns his skin as he stretches out before approaching her. He sneaks up closer and slides his calloused hands around her eyes. She relaxes at his touch because she would know it anywhere. She can feel the heat radiating from his skin. She's been waiting for him.

Guess who? He asks, his voice husky and laced heavy with playfulness, knowing that if she hadn't known it was him, he'd probably be dead by now.

Thor? She replies, smirking.

Ah, no. Try again?

Tony? If he could giggle, he would.

Maybe this will help. He snakes one muscular arm around her stomach and without removing the other hand from her eyes, rests his chin on her bare shoulder, and mumbles against it slightly.

Oh. Steve. Clint rolls his eyes to the blue sky and lets the light flood back into her world. She blinks, her eyes reluctantly adjusting to the sudden brightness. His other arm finds its way around her waist and she can feel his chapped lips against her shoulder.

Going for a swim? He asks and she nods as if it's the most natural thing in the world. She can feel him open his mouth, getting ready to say something, but instead drops a kiss onto her warm skin. They have to be back at S.H.I.E.L.D tomorrow and they both know this. She's been talking about going swimming the moment they pulled up along the sandy shore and hiked the steep stone stairs up to the little house. He takes another breath, and she can feel his warm, moist exhale clouding up her skin.

He stares down at the still, blue lake water below the cliff. It looks so clean and pure and with one jump, they're going to disrupt it, taint it, with everything that they'd rather forget. All the blood they could never wash off, the scars they had memorized on themselves and on one another, the underlying stench of gun powder would float to the delicate blue surface and ruin it forever.

Still, she's been waiting for this. And she's been waiting for him and that was more than enough reason for him to forget about everything else. He drops a small kiss onto her neck and she twists around without warning and crashes her lips to his for few long seconds, catching him in a rare startled state before he can react. It's almost violent and almost sweet.

The kiss an understanding first, a promise second, and a show of affection third. Because they're partners first, best friends second, and lovers third.

He's here with her now and she's been waiting. He puts his hand on the small of her back looks into her eyes. Ready? He whispers and he knows she is.

On three? She asks him with a tilt of the head and he nods. He laces his fingers into hers and she's grinning. He's pretty sure he's never seen anything more beautiful. She repeatedly runs her thumb gently over the scar he has on his right hand.

One,

Two,

Three!

On three they jump together, grinning like idiots. Natasha barely has time to let out a scream before they break the tension in the water, destroying the barrier and disappearing under in a white foam. He's still holding her hand and for a moment they are numb. The freezing water feels like its seeping into her skin and biting at her, nipping at her. Clint squeezes her hand.

Tomorrow they'll be back at work again. Tomorrow they'll be fighting weapons smugglers and drug dealers in the middle of nowhere. Tomorrow they go back to risking their lives and protecting each other. But today they are together and underneath the water they feel nothing.

When she needs air again she begins swimming for the surface, pulling Clint along with her. They reach the top and she takes in a gulp of oxygen, panting. The contact with the air is harsher than with the water. He pulls her to his wet, toned chest where she rests her head, rising and falling with each of his desperate breaths.

She already misses the numbness, the frigid cold seeping into her bones. Tomorrow they go back to trying to redeem themselves. Tomorrow will come fast enough. Natasha snuggles in closer. Clint holds her to him even tighter. Nothing lasts forever.