“Ow,” Clint hissed.

Natasha dabbed at the cut on his forehead with an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball and arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Baby,” she muttered.

Funny, he could take knife wounds and bullets and falls from buildings without complaint, but it was always the healing that hurt the most. “Be gentle with me,” he pleaded, letting his lower lip jut out. The curve of her lip quirked up into a smirk.

“An infection will hurt worse,” she said before sitting back on her heels. “Done.”

“My hero,” he drawled. He watched as Natasha got up from the bed, carrying the mess of cotton balls and gauze over to the garbage, before picking up her discarded towel and running it through her hair. She looked out the window, where rain pattered arhythmically against the glass. “It’s still coming down out there, huh?”

Her I’m-not-blind,-Barton look got a boost in efficiency from Mother Nature as lightning flashed in the distance, followed quickly by a rumble of thunder. The tropical storm, which had drenched them as they fled the Cuban warehouse they’d decimated, was settling in on top of them.

“Okay,” he teased, “You’re going to have to teach me how to do that.”

“We’re far enough inland that storm surge should not pose a problem. Debris is going to be another matter entirely.” Natasha draped the towel around her shoulders as she crawled back up onto the bed, stretching out next to Clint. The lights flickered before the room was plunged into darkness. She frowned. “S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to start putting us in real hotels with actual generators.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Clint draped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his side. It was a simple routine, lying like this. It meant warmth in shared body heat and security knowing that someone had your back. It meant that, at least for the moment, they could relax. “Did you know that the sky turns green before a tornado?”

“There are no tornadoes in Russia,” Natasha said exhaustedly, closing her eyes.

“It’s like nature’s own warning system,” Clint said, his gaze focused out the window. “They’re pretty amazing, you know. One row of houses can be completely wiped out, but the other side of the street is completely untouched.”

“They can also annihilate an entire town,” Natasha replied. “I am not an idiot, Barton.”

“Never said you were,” he said, holding his free hand up defensively. He rolled onto his side propping himself up on his elbow. “You know, you’re kind of like a tornado.”

She cracked open one eye. “Violent and unpredictable?”

He ran his hand along her side, careful to avoid the blooming bruises on her skin. “Unstoppable, incredible... a force of nature.”

She shrugged and nestled in closer to his body. “I accept your complement.”

Natasha drifted off to sleep with her head pillowed on his arm. In the dim light, her face seemed serene and young and other things she never showed the world. He pushed a damp lock of red hair back from her face and smiled. Maybe, instead of a tornado, she was a hurricane--and this was the eye of her storm.

Yayyy! Clint is so sweet in this fic!

:D :D :D

Oh, wow, this has got so many of my favourite things in it and storms. The banter and the cute and the trust has turned me into a squeezing fuzzball. Your descriptions of the weather are particularly wonderful, and I love the analogy of the hurricane to Natasha <3

Also Mother Nature would totally back Natasha up. They're kindred spirits ;)

FUZZBALL! Fuzzballs are my fave. :) I'm a bit of a weather buff so this called to me

I love the weather, it's so complicated and powerful and awesome, but its complexities and subtleties escape me. So I love reading about it, and am pleased the prompt drew the attention of a weather buff :D

This is so sweet, my darling. Can't get enough banter and snuggles!!! Yay!!!! :D

SNUGGLY STORM FLUFF!!!

Oh that's so sweet. I especially like the contrast of their communication; Clint sounds much lighter than she does, and she is affectionate, even though she's a powerful storm.

Gorgeous :)

I had a lot of fun playing with their voices, I worry she's a bit too stilted

Oh, oh, oh - THIS.

!!! :D :D :D

Aww bb this is so lovely and sweet. I feel so warm and fuzzy inside reading it. Lovely job as always! <3

I live to bring the warm fuzzies! :D

Aw, that was lovely and just the kind of story I needed after a stressful week. :)

Aww, yay! Glad to brighten your week.

Aww XD

:D Yay

Aww I like this :D I really enjoy how your write them, love their voices in your hands. I really like Nat's voice in this actually. And the storm metaphors, but then I'm a sucker for a good storm metaphor :)

Random Social Justice Tangent: Women are taught to speak in sentences like "I think" or worse "I feel" prefacing their statements, which gives them less authority in their voices. (I had to stop myself three times from using those phrases in just that one sentence.) So, I consciously made the choice to make Natasha speak in more concrete terms than that. So I'm glad you liked how her voice came out.

I could not be more with you on that. And I think that's part of what I love most about this character and why I love your treatment of her. She may be one mixed up little cookie, but in a lot of ways she is also a character of great hmmm... what am I trying to say... conviction, I think. She has a lot of uncertainty about who she is etc etc but at the same time (in a professional capacity maybe?) completely backs her instincts, is certain about things, is definitive. And I've just realised that's kinda contradictory but apparently that IS how I feel about it! I hope that makes sense outside my brain... Anyway, I really love how you write her, is what I'm sayin!

Awww, this was sweet. And, yeah, I'd say they're both forces of nature.

This is sweet and quiet and I adore it. I especially loved the last line.

Clint asking Natasha to teach him was great. :) But I really do like the contrast of the physical storm with the psychological ones we know they go through, and with the metaphor for Natasha. The image of her as a hurricane sits very nicely with me; there's something about comparing her with the awe-inspiring, vast swaths of white on the weather displays that jives really well.

And the cuteness and fluff are also great. :) Love it!

A great slice of mission-life for these two and I love the banter! There are no tornadoes in Russia, ha, yes Clint, the weather in Russia is all that matters! Heehe. And I accept your compliment. That it has to be accepted. Y'know, 'cause otherwise... :D