he was the one • winterwidow

⊱ nine ⊰

- when you were young / the killers -

After about an hour of discussing the events with Clint, Nat made her way back to the room and Clint had opted to sleep on the sofa that night. As she opened the door, the first thing she came across was Sharon's sleeping form. Natasha smiled, the sight of her calmness filling her with reassurance until she noticed the hairs rising on the blondes skin. Truth was, the air conditioning was probably one of the coldest Nat had ever seen, and Sharon most likely fell asleep before it actually kicked in.

Slipping the fresh thin white sheet off of the bedside table, Nat covered Sharon in the linen and made sure she was still comfortable before turning to her own bed.

✧★✧

As if a miracle had taken place, Nat had no dreams haunting and disturbing her sleep. In fact, she had closed her eyes and the next time they opened again she was met with the same face she saw before she drifted off.

"Thought I said not to stay up too late?" Sharon smiled down at Natasha's tired form. "Come on, sleepyhead."

Only response being a drawn-out groan, Sharon was quick to removed the thin pillow that Natasha had thrown over her face to shield it from the sudden light and confrontation of the now day.

"Carter, I swear to-"

"I'll let you throw Clint in the pool if you get up in the next five seconds."

With that, Natasha removed the sheet that had somehow tangled its way over and under her skin in ways she could never explain how, being a person who didn't tend to move around much in her sleep, and dragged her feet to the bathroom door a mere few feet away from the open room.

Sharon smiled over to Nat, who had leant one arm on the doorframe to send Sharon one last look before entering the shower, smugness present in her tone as she spoke. "I knew I could break you."

Shaking her head, Natasha shut the bathroom door behind her and started the shower, sitting on the closed toilet lid as she waited for it to get to her usual temperature-a habit she had adapted from one of her old apartments where it was either wait for the water to run to a bearable degree before entering, or suffer through what could only be described as ice or fire.

Granted, it was a pain to deal with at the time but it had allowed her time to think and, to someone like Nat, time was pure gold.

And thinking was exactly what she did.

Since last night, her mind had only been on one thing. No matter how much she had tried to focus on anything else to take her thoughts away, the memory kept making her way back, almost like the encounter was a boomerang in her head that just wouldn't stop returning.

If only she knew his name. It was as if nothing else mattered to her but him, which was foolish. Nat doesn't know this man. So why does she care so much about him? Why does she feel such a sudden connection? Like a burning sensation in her chest that was either possessive, curious or just pure longing, yearning to be closer to him.

It was the steam now flooding around her that brought her back from the impulsive musing. Natasha shook her head slightly, hands pressed to her bare knees as she stood and drew back the shower curtains, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the hazed mirror. She looked different. Healthier, almost.

It had been years since Nat properly looked at herself. The last time she probably had her hair just above her elbows, darker. Now it was light and choppily cut to ghost her shoulders, framing her face like art in a museum.

More importantly, she was happy.

Turning her head back to her original task, Nat stepped in the shower and let the water enclose her in its warmth.

✧★✧

"Nat seems to be enjoying this break, huh?" Sharon grabbed a bottle of water out of the small fridge beneath the kitchen counter, preparing her body for the humidity.

Clint moved his head up from the coffee that he was pouring, his eyes following the direction a few moments after. "Yeah, yeah. She deserves it."

She smiled at him, turning with her drink and pressing herself against the counter as Clint lifted his cup and moved toward the seat a few feet away from the corner kitchen. "We all do, Barton. It's a been a hard few months. Years, even."

Nodding, Clint kept his eyes fixated on the purple ceramic in his hand. "You can fucking say that again."

"Hey," Sharon caught his attention again, laughing dissolving in the air as the words now replaced it. "Nat seemed very... different about that bartender. D'you know what I mean?"

There were two ways the archer could go about this question. He could either slightly expose Natasha by using his knowledge of her unknown emotion to his advantage or he could play dumb and have 'no idea' what she was getting at.

Instead, Clint just shrugged and brought the drink to his lips again, ghosting his chin as he spoke beforehand. "Something was different, that's for sure. Probably nothing too big. It's Romanoff, she gets intrigued by anyone who remotely sticks out to her. She'll realise what makes him so different, get bored of his normality, and cease her untold investigation."

As the woman in front of him agreed, changing the topic with ease, Clint was left to think about what he said. He'd always been a good liar, no matter what others may assume. It was a habit quickly picked up from his years at the circus. You needed to make yourself convince your act if you want to fool your audience.

And, to be completely honest, he did believe what he said. Clint himself had never met the bartender, though he was curious about the guy. It was a very Nat thing to do to suddenly pick up on random people. To Clint, she would realise and would get bored.

How little he knew back then...