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For I have Kissed Thee a Thousand Times

Angry Kiss

She doesn't remember who initiates it. She doesn't even remember what they were fighting about. All she can think about is trying to one-up him as much as he is trying to fight her.
It reminds her of their sparring. All fierce and each trying to beat the other at their own game. The solider and the spy, locked in eternal combat.

Natasha vaguely remembers shouting about the fact that he doesn't have to be her savior all the time. That she can look after herself. She doesn't need him to protect her. She also remembers him shouting back. Remembers him saying that he doesn't want to be her savior. That he knows she doesn't need one. But he also reminds her that he's taken it upon himself to be there for her. To protect her when she, herself, can't.

Using all of her strength, Natasha knocks his legs out from under him, making the pair tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs. She uses her strong thigh muscles to cling to his torso, not letting him have the upper hand. She spits out the things that she knows will hurt him, tries to push him away with her words while her actions are doing the exact opposite.

The spy's hands are clutching at his chest, nails digging into his skin. Her eyes burn into his, watching as the ocean rages and storms inside them. Her beautiful ocean is a storm of grey and dark blues, making her sad but angry at the same time. She shouldn't feel such a tug in her heart or a pain within her when he looks at her like that. She can't think of it.

He doesn't remember who initiates it. He doesn't even remember what they were fighting about. All he can think about is trying to fight her as much as she is trying to one-up him.

He remembers her screaming at him. Remembers her telling him that he doesn't need to save her all the time. But he remembers the time that he has. During the Battle of New York. In the underground bunker. On the highway in the car. Sometimes, he even needs to shield her from herself.

He flails when she trips him. Her body lands roughly on top of his, making him let out a blast of breath. His Russian spider is clinging to him, trying to wrap herself around him just like the spider she is named for. Her nails dig little half-moons into his skin, making him retaliate with a harsh grip on her hip. Steve watches with sad eyes as the jungle within hers seems to alight with fire. Almost as if she is burning, trying to light him on fire as well. It saddens him and he wants to reach up, cup her cheek, and quell the raging firestorm inside her.

She reaches down, ready to fight him, to claw at him until he is nothing but skin and bones and blood underneath her. He reaches up, ready to sooth her weary soul, until the fire is gone and his beautiful spy is all that's left. Her eyes meet his, waiting for him to make the first move. He waits patiently for her anger to fade so that he can kiss her like he's dying and she is his only hope.

They come together in a clash of lips and teeth and tongue.
She bites into his lower lip, intent on marking it. He can feel her teeth on his lip, but he tries to sooth her worries with his gentle mouth. It as if lighting has struck the ocean and the forest at the same time, creating a catastrophe of elements.Soon, he feels her anger slowly melting, allowing her to fall into his embrace. She can feel the anger slowly fading from her, making her weak as a newborn kitten.

"I'm sorry you feel like I'm always protecting you," he whispers, his hands running through the tangles of her hair. It hangs down around their faces like a curtain of red.
"I'm sorry, too," she apologizes, eyes closing as she feels his hands run through her hair. A soft sigh leaves her lips and moves against the curtain of her hair like a breeze.

He smiles up at her, watches as the jungle returns to its natural state of green.
She watches as the ocean returns to its normal calm blue. She leans down and rests her cheek against his chest. He pulls her against him and rests the palm of his hand against where her heart echoes through her skin. It's steady once again and his body relaxes against hers.

"I love you," they whisper, breath mingling in the small space between them.


Alright, new chapter! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write this but I've started a few different versions and didn't know which one to go with. Then, in the last half hour, I wrote this and it really made me smile. I've never written anything like this before, with different parts and everything. This chapter doesn't really have a plot or much context, but Nat and Steve were fighting (kinda over the whole thing that happened in the Forehead Kiss chapter) with Natasha getting mad that Steve feels the need to save her all the time. But I couldn't leave it on an angry/sad note, so I had it end on a happy note.
And the bold doesn't mean those are important sentences, it just means that those are both of them acting at the same time.


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