FIC: cupid painted blind (PG - drunken conversations, UST, buddycops, a pinch of h/c)workerbee73February 19 2013, 22:29:25 UTC
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." - Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
***
"Hold still."
"It hurts."
"I'm going to tell people, you know."
"That Hawkeye's unfortunate demise came at the hands of his partner?"
"That the Black Widow has a boo-boo face."
She gave him a pretty pout, then winced. "I want more sake."
"Haven't you had most of the bottle by now?"
"Only what you didn't drink." Natasha frowned. "I can still feel my fingertips." She pressed a hand to the bruise forming on her cheek. "And I can still feel this."
"The other guy looked worse though."
"They always do."
Clint chuckled, reaching up to cradle her jaw. He felt her tense.
"Am I hurting you?"
Her voice was unsteady. "No."
"Hold still then." He pressed the damp cloth to her bottom lip, dabbing away the blood and trying to relieve a bit of the swelling. He ignored the way her breath hitched and he sure as hell ignored the almost overpowering urge to pull her closer.
Off limits, Barton, a voice inside him said. We've been over this before.
Evac was still four hours away. It was the first joint mission they'd had in months and it had been over far too soon. At the moment it was 2 A.M. and they were holed up in a shoebox-sized apartment in Osaka with a dwindling supply of sake and an endless supply of cuts and bruises.
He focused on the line of her jaw, the bow at the top of her lips, and the slight asymmetrical line of her nose, and tried not the think about how she crinkled it when she smiled. He cleaned each cut and pressed the cold cloth to her cheek. When at last he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open in a kind of daze.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"No one's ever been gentle with me."
"Then they're idiots."
"Who?"
"Everyone."
She giggled.
"You're drunk."
"And you're handsome."
"Now I know you're drunk."
She giggled again.
"Clint..."
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you?"
"Why didn't I what?"
"Ever ask me out?"
"You're just all kinds of chatty tonight."
"It's been four years--"
"Four and a half."
"Now you're evading."
"I'm avoiding self-incrimination."
"Self-incrimination," she said solemnly then giggled some more.
"Maybe I'm shy."
She shrugged. "Maybe you're not interested. No reason you should be; I shouldn't have brought it up--"
He tilted her chin up until her eyes met his. "Maybe I'm shy," he repeated.
She leaned forward the tiniest bit. "Maybe I am too."
His thumb replacing the cloth, he traced delicate circles on her injured lower lip. "That's quite the predicament we're in."
"A conundrum," she agreed.
"I guess we're stuck."
"Two star-crossed souls..."
"So near and yet so far..."
"Unrequited..."
"Speak for yourself, sweetheart."
She laughed, collapsing against his shoulder. He held her there and tried not to think about just how unbelievably perfect this moment was; how unbelievably perfect she felt.
"Missed you," she murmured against his neck.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Missed you too."
She placed her hand over his heart. "Happy Valentine's Day, Clint."
Re: FIC: cupid painted blind (PG - drunken conversations, UST, buddycops, a pinch of h/c)jacedesbffFebruary 20 2013, 01:52:53 UTC
As a writer, I may or may not have a bit of a reputation as a Fluff Queen, so the recent posts of you and Bob are definitely warming the cockles of my fluffy, fluffy heart. :D
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."
- Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
***
"Hold still."
"It hurts."
"I'm going to tell people, you know."
"That Hawkeye's unfortunate demise came at the hands of his partner?"
"That the Black Widow has a boo-boo face."
She gave him a pretty pout, then winced. "I want more sake."
"Haven't you had most of the bottle by now?"
"Only what you didn't drink." Natasha frowned. "I can still feel my fingertips." She pressed a hand to the bruise forming on her cheek. "And I can still feel this."
"The other guy looked worse though."
"They always do."
Clint chuckled, reaching up to cradle her jaw. He felt her tense.
"Am I hurting you?"
Her voice was unsteady. "No."
"Hold still then." He pressed the damp cloth to her bottom lip, dabbing away the blood and trying to relieve a bit of the swelling. He ignored the way her breath hitched and he sure as hell ignored the almost overpowering urge to pull her closer.
Off limits, Barton, a voice inside him said. We've been over this before.
Evac was still four hours away. It was the first joint mission they'd had in months and it had been over far too soon. At the moment it was 2 A.M. and they were holed up in a shoebox-sized apartment in Osaka with a dwindling supply of sake and an endless supply of cuts and bruises.
He focused on the line of her jaw, the bow at the top of her lips, and the slight asymmetrical line of her nose, and tried not the think about how she crinkled it when she smiled. He cleaned each cut and pressed the cold cloth to her cheek. When at last he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open in a kind of daze.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"No one's ever been gentle with me."
"Then they're idiots."
"Who?"
"Everyone."
She giggled.
"You're drunk."
"And you're handsome."
"Now I know you're drunk."
She giggled again.
"Clint..."
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you?"
"Why didn't I what?"
"Ever ask me out?"
"You're just all kinds of chatty tonight."
"It's been four years--"
"Four and a half."
"Now you're evading."
"I'm avoiding self-incrimination."
"Self-incrimination," she said solemnly then giggled some more.
"Maybe I'm shy."
She shrugged. "Maybe you're not interested. No reason you should be; I shouldn't have brought it up--"
He tilted her chin up until her eyes met his. "Maybe I'm shy," he repeated.
She leaned forward the tiniest bit. "Maybe I am too."
His thumb replacing the cloth, he traced delicate circles on her injured lower lip. "That's quite the predicament we're in."
"A conundrum," she agreed.
"I guess we're stuck."
"Two star-crossed souls..."
"So near and yet so far..."
"Unrequited..."
"Speak for yourself, sweetheart."
She laughed, collapsing against his shoulder. He held her there and tried not to think about just how unbelievably perfect this moment was; how unbelievably perfect she felt.
"Missed you," she murmured against his neck.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Missed you too."
She placed her hand over his heart. "Happy Valentine's Day, Clint."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Tasha."
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Promptathon bets FTW. And thank you. I'm pretty sure dialogue is my favorite-ist thing in the whole wide world. <3
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(And I'm not even commenting on the whole cupid image ...)
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Anything I can do for the sake of good literature... ;)
So glad you enjoyed!
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\o/
**flails around like a crazyperson**
(and dude, this song kind of gives me everything for this fic:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qcw-MIi8S_4)
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