[ The question makes his eyes snap back to her. It's subtle, the way his expression closes off, becomes guarded immediately. Most people wouldn't read through it - his face is set in a perfectly calm neutral, but Natasha knows him, and Natasha knows how to read people. He might as well look like she slapped him for all that she can likely see a mixture of hurt and annoyance flicker over him.
The question hits a sore spot, that much is likely obvious immediately.
But more than that, the way he looks at her now takes on a heavier quality, and when he speaks he almost chokes on the weight of his emotions. ]
You're real.
[ A realization, not a question. She's not a spectre that the labyrinth is putting in front of him. And just like that he pushes himself forwards, crosses the distance. It's been different years of grief for both of them, but they might as well be standing in some shoddy safehouse in Europe during their two years of living together with Steve on the run. He gives her plenty of time to pull away, but if Natasha lets him, Sam's good arm goes around her in a hug without hesitation, in a hug that's not as tight as he'd make it if his body wasn't full of broken bones right now. ]
no subject
The question hits a sore spot, that much is likely obvious immediately.
But more than that, the way he looks at her now takes on a heavier quality, and when he speaks he almost chokes on the weight of his emotions. ]
You're real.
[ A realization, not a question. She's not a spectre that the labyrinth is putting in front of him. And just like that he pushes himself forwards, crosses the distance. It's been different years of grief for both of them, but they might as well be standing in some shoddy safehouse in Europe during their two years of living together with Steve on the run. He gives her plenty of time to pull away, but if Natasha lets him, Sam's good arm goes around her in a hug without hesitation, in a hug that's not as tight as he'd make it if his body wasn't full of broken bones right now. ]