[ its hard to for most people to grasp just how carefully deliberate wash is about even small interactions -- he's learned to ease up but it's still about projecting a sense of it than actually being it. a skill and a way of being that he's been forced into, by necessity, that he can't quite let go of. it's one of the first things he recognized about natasha, that gave him the sense that, well, she was someone to be careful about -- but also, they had something in common.
so when he feels that shiver -- he knows she let herself do it. that she's letting him feel it. and it could mean a few different things, could be a carefully practiced reaction, a convincing lie. but wash, uncharacteristically, in a way he'll have to pull apart later, is continuing to choose to see it differently. there's give and there's take. small, mutual pieces. genuine trust. when it comes to learning about someone, wash tends to give up pieces of himself more than he asks. gentle suggestions for exchange, knowing that there's more weight in anything freely given. most people don't recognize that's what he's doing, don't understand the weight that wash places on someone giving him anything about themselves, when he can't forget any of it. natasha, though. natasha does. he's sure she does.
so he leans into her further, when he feels that slight tremble, when she tucks herself more against his side. he lets an instinctive always-held tension ease from his shoulders, until what's left is just the tension of this, between them, the pull of the moment itself. his pulse picks up noticeably as she presses her touch to his wrist, another slightly too sharp inhale of air when her voice ghosts against his cheek. and that pause. he knows that pause, too.
he wouldn't blame her for stalling. and really, he would've been happy to let her do it. but then she says it, with enough of an air of authority to mask the inherent vulnerability that comes with it. and wash knows, too, that -- it doesn't have to be like that. even with the stricter laws, maybe more so with them. she doesn't have to trust him with this. but it would make tings much, much easier, and. she's trying.
slowly, he lets his fingertips, still pressed to the dip of her throat, curve slightly into the metal ring at the front of her collar. and although he could, he doesn't pull her by it. instead, he leans back himself, enough to look her in the eye, his other hand shifting so he can hold natasha's own in a more steady grip. ]
Feels like you ran out of other options.
[ wry, some attempt at carrying his humor from before forward. his hand shifts against her neck, fingers spreading across her collarbone, letting his thumb brush against that metal ring, instead, pushing it aside so he can press it into her clavicle. ]
no subject
so when he feels that shiver -- he knows she let herself do it. that she's letting him feel it. and it could mean a few different things, could be a carefully practiced reaction, a convincing lie. but wash, uncharacteristically, in a way he'll have to pull apart later, is continuing to choose to see it differently. there's give and there's take. small, mutual pieces. genuine trust. when it comes to learning about someone, wash tends to give up pieces of himself more than he asks. gentle suggestions for exchange, knowing that there's more weight in anything freely given. most people don't recognize that's what he's doing, don't understand the weight that wash places on someone giving him anything about themselves, when he can't forget any of it. natasha, though. natasha does. he's sure she does.
so he leans into her further, when he feels that slight tremble, when she tucks herself more against his side. he lets an instinctive always-held tension ease from his shoulders, until what's left is just the tension of this, between them, the pull of the moment itself. his pulse picks up noticeably as she presses her touch to his wrist, another slightly too sharp inhale of air when her voice ghosts against his cheek. and that pause. he knows that pause, too.
he wouldn't blame her for stalling. and really, he would've been happy to let her do it. but then she says it, with enough of an air of authority to mask the inherent vulnerability that comes with it. and wash knows, too, that -- it doesn't have to be like that. even with the stricter laws, maybe more so with them. she doesn't have to trust him with this. but it would make tings much, much easier, and. she's trying.
slowly, he lets his fingertips, still pressed to the dip of her throat, curve slightly into the metal ring at the front of her collar. and although he could, he doesn't pull her by it. instead, he leans back himself, enough to look her in the eye, his other hand shifting so he can hold natasha's own in a more steady grip. ]
Feels like you ran out of other options.
[ wry, some attempt at carrying his humor from before forward. his hand shifts against her neck, fingers spreading across her collarbone, letting his thumb brush against that metal ring, instead, pushing it aside so he can press it into her clavicle. ]
You're sure?