они не такие разные. They are not so different. And even now, she stands before him and finds her gaze narrowing in soft thought – as though reading that expression to determine whatever lays beneath. There’s a whole new intensity in the way he’s glancing down at her, and it unnerves her; unnerves her further still, that she’s prided herself on being a mask of composure, that somehow he seems to see straight through her; and she has made a life for herself doing exactly the opposite. Something about her becomes vulnerable, lets her guard down, and he’s one of so very few who manages to make his way inside without a second thought; and she’s not sure if that terrifies her or not.
His words make her smile, despite herself, and instead of answering him, a grin plays on her lips. A genuine, proper smile – and it’s one that’s rare to see, because the RUSSIAN has been taught all her life that emotions are weak; and weakness is where you’ll be eaten alive, but she can’t help the genuine content she finds in his company. In truth, there’s at least some part of her that’ll be relieved to spend time in someone else’s company – how many years has she spent alone in the compound, with no one but her own thoughts to keep her company? And when those demons talked, they’d been so very loud – no, she knows now that they hush when she’s not alone. She trusts that he’ll be there for that.
“I promise not to kill you in your sleep.” A light quirk of the brow follows that tease, but the smile confirms it’s just that – a light tease, followed by the most idle squeeze of his sides, before her chin raises once more at his next words; and she finds her head canting at an angle, at the thought of what that convincing might look like. With most, simple gestures reflect nothing but a façade, or whatever she’s crafted herself to be for that scene, or that setting – with him, it’s all Natasha, all Natalia, nothing but genuine and her and so very open with so few people. And so that soft tilt of her chin speaks more, now, as her gaze roams his, as though trying to gauge what it is building between them.
The soft sound of the nickname that spills between them, the combination of his words, or the way his hand brushes her cheek. She knows it’s coming in the moment before it happens – and his lips are gentle, in the way that they find her own. A moment passes, two, three, before it registers; he’s kissing her, and this an act without prompt, hands not coaxing him closer yet – and another moment, to consider her response. No, she’s no stranger to this kind of touch; but of him? Could there be anything that feels so familiar, or more like home? Home isn’t a place, it’s a person; and she thinks for the very first time in her life, she might understand why that is – he feels nothing short of right.
Slowly, her hands raise to cup his cheeks – and it’s several moments later, before her lips part to deepen the kiss, allowing entrance should he wish for it. She can feel the intensity behind the embrace, and it surprises her; but not one to be outdone, Natasha leans up on tiptoe to deepen the kiss, as fingertips brush through cropped locks, and a thumb strokes his jawline in turn. One word, murmured in slightly thicker Russian accent than usual; just his name, breathed into his lips.
--------- This moment was one he never wanted to alter, never wanted to change. What always happened between him and Natasha was always just so incredibly intense. They were partners, above all else. She was really the first person he worked with seriously when he came out of the ice. She’d been there on that helicarrier, welcoming him. He could see it so clearly -- being polite as ever, calling her ma’am, being introduced to the crazy intense world of SHIELD. They’d been through a lot together. And yet each and every mission, every conversation, every look --------- it led them both here and that was something he didn’t want to change. The crazy journey they’d been on led them here. And it was more than he could ask for, really.
Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her. Maybe he should have just kept his distance, simply taking her hand or holding her in his embrace. But she was already tucked in his arms and he wasn’t exactly planning on letting her go. Not now. The kiss felt the same as it did the first time they’d kissed, even if it was on a mission. The sensation still flooded his mind with thoughts of her and everything they’d been through. It still made him want to pull her closer and never let go. Except this time, he wasn’t as flustered -- he was the one to kiss her. It didn’t catch him off guard. He’d waited a long time for this, mostly because no other time felt right. He knew that no moment would ever feel quite right, though.
But he thought he’d lost his chance forever when she didn’t come back from the time heist. And he wasn’t about to waste any more time.
Hearing his name whispered against his lips, her accent thick on her tongue, he was sure that he was dreaming. This couldn’t be real. And yet it was -- she was here. Alive. And god, he wasn’t going to throw this chance away. Not now. Hands pulled her impossibly closer, holding her gently, yet tenderly against him. He didn’t want to pull away, but he did a few moments later, his forehead resting against hers as his breath mixed with hers. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.” He at least had to be honest. Hell, he would have kissed her all those years ago when they’d been on the run together. He would have kissed her during those five years after the snap. But he hadn’t. A part of him wished that he had, but it didn’t matter, really. They had this moment now and that was enough. “Just... never felt right. Never wanted to push it.”
If he had, would they even be here right now ?? Maybe they’d be more. Or maybe their lives would be completely different. He’d never know, but there would always be what ifs. “I just... I didn’t want to waste anymore time. I thought I wasn’t going to get another chance.” A pause. “But I did. We did. And I just- I didn’t want to throw it away.” There was so much he wanted to say, and yet none of it felt right. Not entirely. Maybe he was pushing it (( he probably was )) but before he could stop himself, he leaned forward to kiss her again, his lips tender against hers before he pulled away, his lips ghosting against hers. “Better than that kiss on the elevator ??” A pause. “Or you still think I need practice ??”
