“Yes, we did some things, but we never did it without having a concrete reason to do so. We never struck, until someone hit us first.” - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, 2014
And truth be told I miss you
And truth be told I’m lying
Clint Barton & Natasha Romanoff - two master assassins…
(I need you to meme on me.. And meme on you. Mutual meme ing )
Fuck. The pain was so real. It felt like someone had shot fire through Natasha’s veins. Her body was seizing and writhing in agony, his throat and lungs filling with blood and bile.
This was it. This was how Natasha Stark was going to die. Cold, alone, with no idea where she was. No one to console her.
With the last bit of her strength Natasha managed to make out her cellphone on the floor next to her, dragging herself towards it as the pain spread up her spine, her legs having ceased to work. Collapsing just in reach, she used the tips of her fingers to drag the phone closer to her, shaky fingers unable to dial the number she wanted correctly.
“For fu-fuck sakes” she growled, coughing, growing frustrated with her failing body.
On her fifth try Natasha managed to call her. Romanoff. She laughed deliriously, her head falling to the floor next to the phone as she waited for Nat to answer, curling into herself as she shook with pain, holding the phone to her.
please. I need someone. I need you. I don’t want to do this alone
During night’s darkest hours, Natasha’s room remained only slightly illuminated by the outside street lamps and of course the night sky. The night was cold. Colder than usual and the street was eerily quiet. Yet, Natasha thought that the silence was more deafening than anything. She hated when the world was this quiet, it meant that she would be left alone with her thoughts and her thoughts only. Memories half remembered. Though she did love peace and quiet once in a while but being alone in a small room in a big city that was scarily silent wasn’t her idea of peace.
She hadn’t checked the time but had assumed it was the early hours of the morning, judging by the fact that she had tried to get to sleep a few hours ago with no such luck. There was just this strange feeling she’d had since the previous day, a gut clenching stress followed by an almost melancholy emptiness.
She figured it was because she hadn’t seen nor spoken to anyone for a few days and the last person she spoke to- well let’s just say it hadn’t ended as well as she’d hoped. Natasha Stark. That woman was an anomaly. An anomaly that was pissed off with her. It was a stupid argument, a silly misunderstanding and now they were giving each other the cold shoulder. Natasha wanted to let Stark in, let her understand, let her see what she’s hiding underneath her emotionless guise. But she just couldn’t bring herself to, she didn’t trust herself. Everything in her past was half remembered, half true and she often felt as though she would never know herself well enough to tell anyone that.
The bad feeling remained.
Sighing, Natasha rolled onto her side, only to see her phones screen light up with a picture of herself and Stark, the picture that the brunette took of while them in Italy. She distinctively remembered being told that she looked “super dorky” shortly afterwards.
With a frown, Natasha picked up her phone and answered the call.
"Natasha— is everything alright?" She asked in a concerned tone, she was sure she could hear erratic breathing on the other side.