A Gift From: theladymore
Type Of Gift: Fic
Title: Simple Little Things
A Gift For: badwolfink
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of Torture
Summary/Prompt Used: Natasha helps patch up Clint after a rough mission
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy happy holidays!


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Being with Clint was a learning experience. Natasha never learned to enjoy life growing up the way she did. The people in the Red Room taught her the simple things that would give her joy were nothing but distractions from her purpose. In the beginning, it would upset her. But as time went on, she learned to accept that her misery was inevitable.

And then in the middle of the night like some dark angel, Clint Barton came and saved her life.

At first she didn’t trust him. He was a stranger. A man who was sent to kill her but believed she could be something good. But Clint did something that no one had ever done. He opened up to her, told her secrets that only a select few had known. The more he opened up to her, the more she let herself enjoy the little things people got to experience: good food, the feel of a comfortable bed, and the sight of the world and what it had to offer.

One of the things she loved to do was look out the window of the hotel room they were staying in after a mission. Especially a difficult mission. It often cleared her head to see a busy world look so peaceful from where she was standing.

Natasha sighed as she looked out onto the lit up Paris skyline. They had gone on a mission to recover weapons from a S.H.I.E.L.D. arsenal taken over by an enemy force. Unfortunately the bastards got there first. Despite that, they managed to take the base back from the enemy…but they didn’t make it out of there in one piece.

Natasha had a few cuts and bruises from the fight, but nothing too drastic to write home about. A few bits of makeup to cover the light bruise on her face and cream on the cuts couldn’t fix. But Clint, he was at one point taken by the hostage by the Hydra members. They beat him, trying to demand where his accomplice was. Quiet and loyal, Clint said nothing; punch after punch hit his defenseless bound body. By the time Natasha set him free, bruises and cuts marred his body, leaving him tender and sore.

She had yet to see the extent of the damage. The moment she led him back to her hotel room Clint ducked in the shower hoping the warm water would ease his muscles. She let him be and waited for him to come out.

“Hey Nat,” Clint said.

Natasha wanted to continue to take in the exquisite view of the city, but she knew Clint needed attention. She understood why. The damage on his torso looked worse than the damage on his face and arms. While there were small bruises on his extremities and a cut or two on his face, there were large bruises that covered his torso. It almost looked like he had spots.

“You need help with that?” Natasha asked.

Clint smiled gently.

“Nah, I think I’ll be fine,” he said looking down at his torso, “Just sore. I was thinking of going out into the lobby and getting some ice.”

“In your towel…covered in bruises,” Natasha questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah,” Clint said.

She wasn’t surprised. She remembered first working with Clint; she was rather repulsed with him walking around in the nude with no sense of discomfort. She eventually got used to it. But in this case when they were trying to look like vacationers, a bruised man walking down the hallway in a towel wasn’t going to fly.

“Stay here and wait on the bed,” Natasha said softly, “I’ll get the ice.”

She could see Clint shaking his head as she picked up a bucket and made her way out the door. It was a short walk down the hallway to where the vending machines were. Filling up the bucket halfway she made her way back to the room. She was quick. There were many things she was ready to do since being deprogrammed from the Red Room; she may have been able to socialize with fellow agents but…small talk wasn’t really her strong point.

She nearly was spotted by a young couple coming out of an elevator when she slipped back into their room. Clint was already lying in bed in his boxers, his eyes closed, hands resting on his chest. He probably looked the most content he looked all day. He opened one eye as she started to near him.

“You can put the ice on the ledge,” Clint said slowly sitting up in bed, “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Natasha looked down at the bucket of ice for a moment before looking up at Clint as he groaned trying to get up in bed. She felt helpless. She wanted to take care of him but at least help him get the kit. She never really got to take care of anyone before, only kill. Something she lamented…

And that thought, the ice in her hand, and the slight groan, set off a light bulb.

“Get back in bed, I got a better idea,” Natasha said.

Clint raised his eyebrow trying to figure out what idea she could possibly have and then shrugged. He wasn’t going to question it so he relaxed back on the bed hands resting behind his head. She set the bucket down on the nightstand before straddling his legs.

“Tasha,” Clint said as she settled in between his thighs, “I thought you were taking care of me, not making love.”

“Head out of the gutter, Barton,” Natasha said reaching for a handful of ice cubes, “I am keeping my word.”

“But people use ice cubes for kinky shit all the time,” Clint retorted, “and we’re in-”

Natasha cut him off with one of the ice cubes tracing his bottom lip. It was swollen with a cut probably from an uppercut to the jaw. Clint closed his eyes and hummed. She moved the cube over the perimeter of his lip before sliding it against his face. She made sure she covered every area that had black and blue. His jawline, his cheek, his forehead. She could see his mouth moving at the corners forming a smile.

The cubes melted away, Natasha reached over and grabbed another handful and moved to where the worst bruises are. Big black and blue marks spotted his navel and chest. She moved the ice cubes down in circular motions, surrounding every area that was marked by fists. She watched the way Clint reacted. Sometimes he tilted his head back as the cold touched his skin. Sometimes he moaned at the cold sensations. When the ice cube moved over the biggest bruise Clint gasped and Natasha felt his fingers moved through her hair.

There was something that felt good about this. Natasha was so used to killing, so used to hurting. Her hands had shed more blood than predators in the wild. They were trained to cause destruction and harm, not creation and healing. And now she was learning to do something else. She was learning to do good.

It was amazing that something as simple as it was can do so much good.

“How do you feel?” Natasha asked, looking down at him as the cubes in her hands melted from the heat. .

Clint wrapped his arms around her waist. He was shivering, possibly from the cold.

“I feel better but I am a little chilly,” Clint said, “You think you can remedy that too?”

Natasha never answered with words, she bestowed gentle kisses on his lips. Her hands moved over his muscles feeling the violent shivers beneath her fingertips. Time was irrelevant as these moments passed between them, only the longer they were locked in this embrace, the less cold Clint became.

Natasha smiled against his lips. She lived in a world that was ice cold, never feeling, and numb. And then Clint came along and opened a world she may have missed had she remained a drone in a terrible place.

But it was the fire of Clint’s love and the simple little things he taught her that melted that ice away.