A Graphite Jungle

einfachmich:

Clint traced his fingers over the pale scars on his forearm. Twin half moons, barely visible in the dim light of his bedroom, but he could still feel them. The memory was dim and distance. Yet even through fog of Loki’s spell he could still remember the feel of her hair in his fist and the sharp pain of her teeth breaking through his skin. 

The fight had been close…so close. To fucking close. Tash would never admit that he had almost taken her down. In fact, she refused to even talk about it, other then to make a crack about how he pulled out some of her hair and occasionally she would touch his forearm in that spot. 

This morning her fingers had lingered on the scar long enough to warm the spot and bring him back to the moment hours later. He covered the scar with his hand, and closed his eyes. It was a moment of weakness, not the first and likely not the last. 

He opened his eyes, glancing at the clock. It was midnight in Oslo, she should have arrived by now. The mission was a simple snatch and grab, nothing she couldn’t handle. Certainly nothing like the battle in New York city. 

Clint settled back into his bed, placing his comlink in his ear and setting it to her frequency. Tony had it connected to the Stark communication satellite, no matter where she was in the world he would hear her transmission. 

He turned off the lights and waited in the dark to hear her call in to verify her mission was complete. Another moment of weakness he supposed, but one that he had no intention of giving up. 

(via) avengemymischief