Natasha Romanoff | The Black Widow (
study_in_scarlet) wrote2013-08-11 07:32 pm
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Dancing in the Dark (for
farmboyhawk)
They didn’t get a lot of time off together, at least not enough to make a trip away worthwhile, so for this one weekend they decided to stay in the city and play tourist for the day.
They had started with a walk through Central Park before grabbing an early lunch at one of the city’s many street vendors and then wandering through the American Museum of Natural history. Natasha found the Hall of Minerals fascinating while Clint had gotten a kick out of all the dinosaur bones. They both enjoyed laying under the big blue whale with all the normal people.
Afterwards they went to a nice restaurant for supper, blending into the crowd of normal couples as best they could and Natasha actually forgot if she was playing a role or being herself as they finished their wine and shared their desserts.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely as they left the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. Nearby a busker played guitar and sang with surprising melody and soul, barely seeming to notice as people threw change into his open case, so caught up was he in his music.
They had started with a walk through Central Park before grabbing an early lunch at one of the city’s many street vendors and then wandering through the American Museum of Natural history. Natasha found the Hall of Minerals fascinating while Clint had gotten a kick out of all the dinosaur bones. They both enjoyed laying under the big blue whale with all the normal people.
Afterwards they went to a nice restaurant for supper, blending into the crowd of normal couples as best they could and Natasha actually forgot if she was playing a role or being herself as they finished their wine and shared their desserts.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely as they left the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. Nearby a busker played guitar and sang with surprising melody and soul, barely seeming to notice as people threw change into his open case, so caught up was he in his music.
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Clint diminished the thick layer of cream on his cup with system and quickly, down to the last drop before the actual cacao came in sight. Sugar was supposed to do something for the endorphins, right?
"It's okay, I guess. We can deal with that shit tomorrow. If I call now, I'll probably spend the night in a cell."
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“This doesn’t change anything,” she said, and if he met her eyes he would see nothing but fierce determination within. “We will be on that flight tomorrow.”
She would do whatever it took to make it happen. If he needed a supervisor with him then she didn’t care about seniority or fraternization or anything else; she would convince Fury that she was the only supervision that Clint needed and get him to make it official. She knew this was what he needed to get better, that she was what he needed. If Fury wanted Clint back to his top agent status again then this was the route that needed to be taken.
“Let’s not worry about it tonight. There are so many other things we could do instead...”
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Clint pressed his legs gently against hers, with a thankful nod, and quickly picked a spoonfull of her own coffee topping from her cup, trying to light the mood further.
"If there's some armed cavalry landing on my roof before that, though... Well, you can confirm that I somehow made it to put my phone in the washing machine and wasn't available, right?"
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“I can do one better,” she said. Reaching across the table she held her hand out. “Phone. Now.”
She was clearly leaving no room for argument. If he was going to keep checking it all day and making himself miserable each time then she would simply remove it from his person. She was supportive and understanding, but sometimes a little tough love was needed.
Maybe she should ever go a step further and call Fury today, get it over with. He wasn’t exactly a Monday to Friday kind of guy, so she had no doubt that he would answer if she called.
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"Just don't go for my browser history", he tried to joke as he handed the phone over and went back for his drink then. In fact he felt a little lighter now that he didn't feel the need to check on his messages every few minutes.
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“Thank you,” she said, tucking the phone into the inside pocket of her coat. Scooping a large dollop of whipped cream up with her finger, she popped it into her mouth and sucked it off slowly, raising one eyebrow at his attempt at a joke. “Oh no? And just what might I find if I were to look?”
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Clint felt his cheeks flush a little and rather concentrated on the not exactly innocent way, Natasha chose to enjoy her cream topping. With just the shadow of a smug grin on his lips, he caressed his knee along the inside of her thigh as far as the seating allowed it, letting her know, he appreciated the sight.
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Her distraction seemed to be working, he already seemed in better spirits, and she pressed her leg against his with a smile. Finally lifting her mug to her lips she took a sip of the incredibly sweet drink before setting it down again, appearing oblivious to the dot of whipped cream on the end of her nose. “How do people drink these all the time?” she asked. It was nice as a treat, and she was actually enjoying it, but there were people that frequented this place daily, and sometimes multiple times a day. She wasn’t sure they even made just a normal coffee so was this what their patrons drank on a daily basis?
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Though she did look kind of adorable with that little white point on her nose, Clint couldn't resist reaching out and wiping it off with a fingertip. Teasing her right back, he took his time sucking the cream off his skin, watching her from half-lidded eyes.
"I could get used to it..."
He more meant afternoons like this, sitting together in a quiet corner with convenience food, joking like their real life, their job wouldn't even exist, but there was no need telling her again. He did his best, showing her.
"But then they'd probably have me on a diet when I don't fit my uniform anymore."
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She had known the cream was on the end of her nose the whole time, just another distraction method to try to keep Clint’s mood from dropping again, but she played along and watched as he wiped it off and mimicked her behaviour. Of course remembering all the things he could do with that mouth and those fingers didn’t leave her completely unaffected.
Unfortunately no manner of distraction seemed to keep his mind off his job for long.
“I think I would be more worried about developing diabetes from all the sugar than putting on a little weight,” she said. Dipping her finger again into what remained of her drink’s topping, this time she held it out across the table to Clint instead, perking one eyebrow at him.. Playing with fire? Maybe, but if that was what it took then so be it.
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Clint leaned over to catch her fingertip in his mouth, completely ignoring the people around them in favor for a clearly heated look in Natasha's eyes. His knee against hers gave the lightest of pressure, motioning for her to spread her legs a little so he had better access. Nothing anyone would notice since she was sitting with her back to the other guests, but he could use years of artistic and flexibility training to twist his leg a little more than usual, tease further along the inside of her thigh while his tongue danced over her soft skin.
no subject
Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, there was the barest hint of a wicked grin there as she watched him suck the cream from her finger. Spreading her legs just a little, she kept her eyes on his as his tongue swirled around her finger. “We should probably finish up here so we can go get our shopping done,” she said, though she made no move to retract her hand.
no subject
After a last nibble on her fingertip, Clint let go off her and busied himself with the straw of his drink instead, pursing his lips a little more than necessary while his knee kept up the movements against her leg. For a few minutes there was just quiet slurping, the harmless chattering of people around them and some modern pop song from the speakers until they were ready to continue their way.
Clint stood to get next to Natasha's seat for a moment first, wrapping his arm around her waist for a sweet, warm second instead of a word that wasn't necessary, not again.
"Want me to help you with your suitcase?"
She probably wouldn't, but sometimes he did have at least a slight cause of manners.
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One of her many favourite things about spending time with Clint was that they could sit in perfectly comfortable silence, just relishing in each other’s presence and touch without having to fill the time with inane chatter. His touch, her eyes, they said more than words could. They were completely at ease with each other, completely comfortable and content. It had scared her at first, this realisation, but now she was glad for it.
Pushing her mug away when she was finished, Natasha was surprised by the sudden half hug he gave her but soon smiled in return.
“It’s okay, I can get it,” she replied true to form. “You can carry any purchases we make.”
Most of the purchases would be his anyhow, as she had most of what she needed, at least when it came to the essentials. Unless he really did intend on bringing along some things that were more fun then essential, in which cause they would be for her just as much as they were for him. “Have you figured out what you need to pick up?”
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Chuckling, Clint led the way outside, holding the door open for her to follow her on the way to the nearest mall again.
They found it a little more crowded upon their arrival than he would have hoped. But making up a mental list of things he wasn't too keen spending much more money for in tourist shops, distracted him from constantly looking out for unfriendly faces or maybe a few more flyers.
A luggage-friendly toolkit for possible necessary repairs and the needed adapters for European power sources were quickly found in a small electronic store on the ground floor. On the way to the checkout they passed the dvd department and Clint couldn't help but grin at a special offer on the occasion of some James Bond-anniversary.
"20 movies of pure stupid entertainment, what do you say, Nat?"
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Looking at the movies Clint indicated, Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle. “Forty hours of silly gadgets and objectifying women, who could resist?” she replied, nudging him with her elbow. Actually, getting take-out and spending the evening curled up on the sofa making fun of movies was what she had been planning to suggest for their evening now that they had power back, and James Bond was always a good choice for that sort of night.
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Clint threw the package in the basket with a big grin on his face. He honestly couldn't wait for Natasha and him tearing one of these movies apart. Always more entertainment than what was happening on screen.
"If you can anything more respectable, it's all yours. The only other movies I can think of are silly western and these flicks with the big glowing phallus sticks. Mostly if I want to see a woman who kicks ass better than any guy I've ever met, I'm just spending the weekend with my partner, you know."
He pressed a short kiss to her shoulder, amused as well as admiringly.
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“Oh. Well, in that case I suppose I can let it slide,” she said, bumping his arm with hers after the quick kiss. “Would hate for you to be disappointed.”
It was all just so very normal, the two of them shopping together, debating the merits of a ‘good’ movie. Normal, and yet Natasha found herself enjoying it.
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Still he wasn't surprised at all when he tried to pay for his purchase with his credit card and the salesgirl told him - visibly embarrassed - there seemed to be a problem.
Always having enough cash on him for emergencies, saved him from an even more embarrassing situation, but now he was pissed. Really pissed.
He somehow made it to keep it together until they had left the store and reached a quiet bench in one of the small resting islands for shoppers on the way. He just dropped the bag somewhere and rested his face heavily in his trembling hands, trying to breathe through that thick hot mist that had clustered in his chest.
Focus. Something, anything to get his mind away from a rage he had thought to be long over. Something to anchor his mind to until they would have a chance to figure this bullshit out tomorrow. Or he would be fucking sending Fury his badge right away, along with a very colorful note.
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No, it was definitely the former.
Natasha didn’t intervene at the checkout when Clint’s card was denied, just played the confused girlfriend and let him take care of the problem, but inside she was seething. Only once they were out in the hallway and Clint was seated and trying to deal with his own rage did she let her mask falter.
“Fuck waiting for tomorrow, I am calling Fury now,” she said, setting her suitcase beside Clint and reaching for her phone. This wasn’t right. Clint had given them years of his life, years he had spent dutifully doing everything they told him to do, save for one infraction that had turned out rather well, if she did say so herself, and because of something that had been beyond his control they thought they could treat him like a prisoner? She would not stand for it.
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Only when he had murmured it out through his hands, still tiredly folded beneath his forehead, Clint could somehow think through what an escalation like this would mean. Not only for him- if it had been just him, maybe he would already have been on the way to the next airport to tell Fury personally all the ways to fuck himself. With kind regards to the Council.
But this was about Natasha too, about all the things she was ready to do for him, that she certainly didn't have to risk. Partners, always, through all this. She meant it, when she said it, and that new proof shining through her resolute way of handling the problem, was exactly the anchor he had been searching for. To hold on to violently shake off his hurt pride and the acid of anger seeping through his veins. To think clear for at least a few seconds.
Standard procedure, and partly his fault. For not asking for permission before the damn booking and then not answering the phone. That didn't make it right, not at all, but his anger he had to direct on this whole fuckery that the authorities had gotten him into after New York, not this new crisis.
They would probably be able to solve this, tomorrow, with cool heads. He had enough faith in Natasha's negotiation skills to believe that. The rest was just formalities then.
But if they did this now, on too much emotion, chances were pretty good, they'd get themselves into even more trouble. Meaning, tomorrow would be pretty much canceled. He couldn't have that. He needed to get the fuck out of here to sort his life over, now more than ever.
"Wait a second."
His hand still felt too cold, too heavy, but he managed to reach out for her, softly cup her thigh before he reached for her bag.
"You can have it back right away."
There was just one program on his phone he needed to check, ignoring the new incoming messages as well as another incoming call, and at least that check ended positively.
"Didn't find my new private account. New one after everything I had saved before New York was gone. Not too much on it, but enough to finish up here."
He put the phone back from where he had taken it and nodded shortly at the shops around, the people, whose cheerful chattering and business over mostly so trivial things suddenly seemed further away than ever to him.
"Maybe it's enough if you write him that we'll both be in tomorrow. I don't... I shouldn't do that now. That wouldn't end well."
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Of course he had provisions set aside, just like she did. She had stashes of money throughout the world, under many different names, that nobody but her knew about and she intended to keep it that way. She would dip into them gladly while they were away, it was what they were for, and nobody would be able to trace them. They knew what airport they were flying to because of the plane tickets but they could rent a car, or hop a flight on a smaller airline once they got there, make their tracks untraceable, impossible to find.
That all depended on how their talk went with Fury.
“Okay,” she slowly agreed. Stepping forward she ran one hand back through his hair before sending a text off to request a meeting between the three of them at nine or at his earliest convenience. No use starting off with demands. “Why don’t we go back to your place? I think we have all the essentials. Anything else we can just pick up when we get there.”
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"Yeah, I guess. It's not like we'll be in the middle of the dune. Being alone a little... would be good now."
He left a short kiss on her palm to let her know, this kind of alone didn't mean, he wanted her gone too, not at all.
"Sorry that this is all so difficult. I just need to find a kind of balance back in my life."
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“I know,” she said, brushing her thumb over his cheek before reaching down to take his hand, giving it a little tug to get him back to his feet. “And you know I will be with you, every step of the way.”
She couldn’t do this for him, couldn’t reach into his head and remove all the bad things, but she could help him deal with it, help him in whatever way she could. She had some experience on the subject, and if anyone could help him it was her, for several reasons. “Come on, let’s skip the hassle and get a cab. We can even order in later so we don’t have to do any dishes before we leave.” Except for what was left from breakfast, but close enough.
no subject
It was pathetic but better than no laugh at all. A cab sounded perfectly right now, so he wasted no further time, leading Natasha outside to the nearest car they could catch.
He knew it was paranoid but he was kind of glad when they were on their own again. He didn't put it past Fury to send someone after him, make sure he wasn't already half way out of the country.
The driver was a quiet one again, thank God, and he even turned the music up some when they both took the back seat, sensing they needed some privacy.
It happened to be a Sting-song, one Clint remembered from a concert many years ago. One of the few big names he had been involved with. He normally didn't get the celeb stuff. He was too grumpy for them. But that evening... had been nice, especially since Natasha and him had been in time to stop the threatened attack on that hall. With their target safe and the bad guys sent off to prison soon enough, they actually had enjoyed the last few songs of the event peacefully.
So fucking long ago.
"I need to start remembering the good days I've had", he murmured, half way lost his memories, fingertips trailing soft lines over Natasha's leg. "Right now it all feels... useless. I know it isn't, I know it's just a phase... I just... Sometimes I feel I'm running out of time. I won't be able to work in the field forever."
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