The Pasts

Chapter 14

It's the hour before dawn, that sacred time when the world is still wrapped in the soft embrace of night, with only the faintest glimmer of light beginning to brush the horizon. The room is cloaked in shadows, the air cool against the bare skin that peeks out from beneath the heavy comforter that's draped over your entwined bodies.

Natasha stirs first, her green eyes fluttering open as she wakes to the quiet, peaceful stillness of the early morning. She sighs softly, her breath warm against your hair as she tightens her hold on you, pulling your body closer to hers. The feel of your warmth against her is a comfort she's grown to cherish in these rare, quiet moments before the world demands her attention.

Her bare skin presses against yours, the heat from your bodies radiating beneath the soft sheets that wrap around you both. Natasha's arm is draped possessively over your waist, her fingers gently tracing the curve of your side as she holds you close. She can feel the steady rise and fall of your breathing, the way your chest moves rhythmically with each peaceful breath.

She shifts slightly, her body instinctively curling around yours, her chest pressing against your back, her legs tangling with yours beneath the comforter. The soft rustling of the sheets is the only sound in the room, the quiet hum of the night outside barely audible through the thick walls of the safe house.

Natasha's gaze drifts to the window, her green eyes taking in the faint light that's beginning to creep into the sky. The world outside is still dark, the stars just starting to fade as the first hints of dawn approach. But inside, in this moment, everything feels suspended in time just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, sheltered from the world outside.

She sighs again, this time deeper, more content, as she buries her face in your hair. The scent of you fills her senses, a mix of comfort and familiarity that makes her eyes flutter shut again, as if she could drift back into sleep just by being close to you. She presses a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your head, her lips barely brushing your hair, her breath warm and steady against your scalp.

You shift slightly in your sleep, a small, unconscious movement that makes Natasha's grip tighten around you. She holds you just a little closer, her body curving around yours protectively, as if she could shield you from everything that lies ahead. Her fingers trace slow, lazy patterns on your skin, the touch more intimate than words could ever be.

Natasha's red hair spills across her pillow, a striking contrast against the white fabric, and a few strands fall across your shoulder as she nuzzles closer. She inhales deeply, savoring the moment, the feel of your body against hers, the peace that comes with just holding you in her arms.

Her eyes, heavy with sleep and emotion, close again as she presses another kiss to your hair, her lips lingering for a moment longer this time. There's a softness to her that only you ever see, a vulnerability that she keeps hidden from the rest of the world. In these quiet moments, she allows herself to feel it, to let down her guard and simply be with you.

The faint light outside begins to grow stronger, but the room remains cloaked in shadows, the dawn still a little ways off. Natasha's hold on you never loosens, her body wrapped around yours in a protective cocoon of warmth and affection. She knows that soon enough, the day will begin, and you'll both have to face whatever challenges come your way.

But the world outside is beginning to stir, and the responsibilities of the day slowly press in on her mind. She knows it's time to wake you, to start the preparations for the mission ahead. Natasha hesitates for a moment, savoring the warmth of your body against hers, the quiet peace of this moment. Then, with a soft sigh, she begins to gently coax you out of sleep.

Natasha's lips brush against the top of your head, a tender kiss meant to ease you into waking. Her voice is a soft murmur, the words barely more than a breath against your hair. "Hey, sweetheart," she whispers, her tone full of warmth and affection. "It's time to wake up."