RETIRED BLOG

send “💋  ” to kiss my muse out of nowhere

          THERE’S SOMETHING FAMILIAR IN THE WAY he tastes; the way his scruffy chin scrapes along hers, the way his thick, calloused fingers feel along her scalp as he runs them through her hair. The desperation in his breath as he pulls away, & the way his eyes seem to plead: I’m sorry, I miss you. 

Sometimes Maya dreams about a crooked smile & red hair catching in the sunlight. She’s smiling in her dream, but she feels sad when she wakes up. She’s not sure why she dreams these things. Sometimes she thinks it could be Matt, but other times she thinks it might be someone else.

She’s not too sure who this guy is, however.

@echocd

the window is open,  a welcoming sign to him.   soft footsteps bring him closer   /  a wolf after his prey,  he sneaks over the ledge and towards the bed.  trying gracefully to surprise her,  fingertips touch her bare shoulder,  smile somewhat visible in the low lighting.

        ❝    sorry, i’m late.   rough night in the office.    ❞         he jokes.

          SHE HAD BEEN EXPECTING HIM THAT night, but when the clock had hit 11 she was sure he was otherwise occupied, climbing into her cold bed reluctantly; made even colder by her open window. Probably not a smart move in hindsight -- when she felt a presence above her Maya shot up in bed, wide awake, fists clenched tightly for a fight.

An exasperated sigh pushed through plush lips at the realisation, a familiar devil at her doorstep. She kicked him, though not very hard.

                                          “  do i  NOT  seem ok ?  ”

‘ ok ’  is subjective,  all abstract sculptures made of wrought iron .  time holds flat ,  he holds his breath ,  their stomachs hold coffee and those tattersof conversation .   maybe he really wantsto know  -  what gave it away :  his hair ?  the empty pizza boxes ?   thejackets of dust on the answering machine ?  a cold lick of sweat ,  and hisbody shrinks .   door  REVOLVES  around herquestion .

                                            “  mean ,  haven’t been to theICU in over a month ,  startin’ to missit .  ”

          “    I wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t.    ”

          SHE GETS IT. SOMETIMES IT HARD to open up. Sometimes it’s hard to admit you’re not doing the best, or being the best. She’s been through it before -- people like her, people like them, they have to be there best, always. Because if they’re not, then bad things happen. People die, or you die. It’s the way it is: they’re just people. They’re not protected by a layer of steel, or have a god’s blood running through their veins. Sure, they have skills. They’re the best at what they do... that’s their schtick. 

He’s not his best. It doesn’t take a particularly keen eye to see the piles of dirty dishes or the bags beneath his eyes. Doesn’t take heightened senses to smell the underlying stench of rotting food or moth balls swimming around the apartment. But it does take a certain type of person to tell the difference between a bad day, & a bad year.

          “    Look, I ain’t gonna push you to talk t’me -- but I just want you to know I don’t have time for bullshit. I like you, Clint. You’re a good guy, & you’re one of the few people who knows what this is like for me. It easy to be around you & I need that. What I don’t need is cancelled plans, or no phone-calls, or empty promises. I just --      ”

You sound so selfish right now. He was clearly not in a good place, but... she didn’t deserve to be jerked around either. & they weren’t the sort of people to ask for help, or be pushed for it. But if he knew, maybe if he knew that she knew, maybe it might make it a bit easier for him. 

                                      “  could work .  ”  

well ,  SHOULD ,  not COULD .  when you’ve punched that many holes in the calendar ,  time is a straight line from here tothere .   but he doesn’t tell maya that,  not with this time of deep pockets andmold in the cabinets .   she cares abouthim more  than he wants her to .

                                   “  might be busy,  I DUNNO .  ”  

          “    Yeah you will be -- ‘cause you’ll be with me.    ”

          SHE KNOWS IF SHE LETS HIM that he’ll bail. She’s not sure how she knows that, but she’s sure of it. He doesn’t seem the same, which is understandable. People change whether you want them too or not, she’s changed, too. She sips on her tea again, & again, before looking back at him. Really looking -- deeper than most people would. Deeper than she’s sure he’d like.

send “💋  ” to kiss my muse out of nowhere

          MAYA WAS BUSY COLLECTING PLATES & cutlery, tidying up after they’d just finished dessert. She may have done more than she should have, maybe she wanted to impress him a bit even though no doubt he would have been impressed by waffles & ice cream. Everything had been made from scratch; from the pizza base right down to the ice cream on top of the pie, which he’d manage to keep a smudge of on the corner of his mouth.

          “    You got…    ”

Maya pointed to her own mouth to indicate where he’d left his dessert, a small stack of dishes piled up in her other hand. He grinned crookedly, pointing to the opposite side of his own mouth. She’s 95% sure he did that on purpose. Maya pressed her lips together to hide her amusement before pointing at her own mouth again, to which he’d switched sides but wiped his cheek instead. 

         “    Here ?    ”

         “    No, you idiot –   ”

         “    Where ?    ”

         “    Here !    ”

She leant in, hand moving to wipe at his face but he’d caught her by the wrist & pulled her in close, not even hesitating before kissing her. Body stiffened in surprise but she was smiling. If it were anybody else she probably would have punched them in the nose but she liked Clint, & she liked the way it felt when he kissed her, when they were intimate. 

Sometimes she thinks about what would have happened if she hadn’t left the team, but most likely it wouldn’t have worked out. Things don’t for her, or for him, by the looks of it. She pulled away, licking her bottom lip; stack of plates still steady on her palm of her hand.

can’t help but think kate bishop would be her worst nightmare ;  she’s already sort of his .   but his shitty humor got a smile outta HER ,  and it’s nice ,  the way it makes her stand out like a polished gem in a kitchen full of matte grime and stained coffee mugs . weird , how both of them so belong to this city heart over soul , but how they don’t match the rest of ‘em .

                        “  uncle ben’s counts as home - cooked .  ” 

waggles a finger ,  mildly defensive ,  as he walks an arc to the living room , half - finished pot  STILL  in hand .

                                   “  but yeah ,  that’s -  sounds nice .   i need to get outta this place ,  time to time .  ”

          SHE SMILES SOFTLY, GLAD THAT HE seemed willing to spend more time with her. He was one of the few people she felt completely comfortable with. Most people thought she was strange: it was something you get used to but can’t help but feel upset about. 

                                “ you take me way too serious , y'know ?”

      well maybe humor isn’t a venn diagram .   nonplussed ,  the way he leans over the small of the kitchen counter ,  stovelight illuminating creases in stubble and frown lines .   some  ‘ bachelor pad ’ :  always smells like shit ,  the nypd sirens never turning off .    he likes it here in a way only he could ;  a nice prison cell ,  the kind that gets cable .   an  AWKWARD ELECTRICITY  in the haze ,  and he starts to laugh .                           “ what i’m tryin’ to say’s , dessert sounds nice . ”

          “    Well sorry, I never really learnt how sarcasm works. Deaf, y’know ?    ”

          HIS SOUNDLESS LAUGH MAKES HER SMILE. She wonders what it might sound like -- maybe the way a light breeze feels on your skin, or grass tickling the soles of your feet as you walk over it. It completes him, his smile. It’s warm & infectious & it makes him look younger.