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sunday six
This floats by on tumblr fairly regularly, and since I'm fighting with getting ideas out of my head and into an actual narrative, I thought I'd give it a try (and cross-post it here, too.) It's a start, at least.
So. Six sentences from the story I've worked on most recently, which happens to be Part 9 of the Clint/Coulson Agents of SHIELD/Avengers/Hawkeye canon-meld I've been working on for the last few months (though this particular part is so far all Clint & Natasha.)
* * *
The first thing Clint knew as he swam up to consciousness was that it was Natasha’s hand on his arm. Even with only half his brain working--and that half drugged to the max--he knew the weight of her and the feel. He knew the calluses she had from fighting and the knicks and scars from her knives, and he knew from how tight her muscles were that whatever was waiting for him was going to be bad. She was there, though, she had his back, like always, and he made himself remember that even as the drugs and the pain tried to tear it away.
Clint drifted for awhile, not really unconscious, just drifting in and out, like the drugs had him surfing over the dark blue-black of the pain that threatened to drag him under, and gradually, he realized Natasha wasn’t only touching him, but that the tiny strokes up and down his biceps were rhythmic and repetitive. He didn’t know how long it took for his brain to catch the pattern, but she never stopped so he knew it was something she wanted him to pay attention to.
* * *
I'm guessing I'm going to have to work CA:TWS canon in here, too, but the more I think about it, the more it seems to fit. Maybe it's not going to be a total nightmare? (The next time I decide to meld multiple active canons, somebody SMACK ME.)
So. Six sentences from the story I've worked on most recently, which happens to be Part 9 of the Clint/Coulson Agents of SHIELD/Avengers/Hawkeye canon-meld I've been working on for the last few months (though this particular part is so far all Clint & Natasha.)
The first thing Clint knew as he swam up to consciousness was that it was Natasha’s hand on his arm. Even with only half his brain working--and that half drugged to the max--he knew the weight of her and the feel. He knew the calluses she had from fighting and the knicks and scars from her knives, and he knew from how tight her muscles were that whatever was waiting for him was going to be bad. She was there, though, she had his back, like always, and he made himself remember that even as the drugs and the pain tried to tear it away.
Clint drifted for awhile, not really unconscious, just drifting in and out, like the drugs had him surfing over the dark blue-black of the pain that threatened to drag him under, and gradually, he realized Natasha wasn’t only touching him, but that the tiny strokes up and down his biceps were rhythmic and repetitive. He didn’t know how long it took for his brain to catch the pattern, but she never stopped so he knew it was something she wanted him to pay attention to.
I'm guessing I'm going to have to work CA:TWS canon in here, too, but the more I think about it, the more it seems to fit. Maybe it's not going to be a total nightmare? (The next time I decide to meld multiple active canons, somebody SMACK ME.)
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