study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

"I don't think that word quite covers", Clint finally managed to say when he wasn't seeing stars anymore.

With the arm not propped on that underwater rope behind them, he pulled Natasha close again to bury his face against her neck and keep them both afloat, give her a moment to recover. She looked like she needed it, and for a moment his conscience wanted to complain for letting her strain herself like that... Then he remembered, he was supposed to not worry that much about her and swallowed whatever he had been about to say.

Instead he let her know with soft, small kisses, still interrupted by heavy, fast breathing, how much he had enjoyed that and that he never took it for granted, how much she was giving herself to him.

A quick glance back to the beach and the people enjoying their quiet, peaceful afternoon there had him chuckle and shake his head half amused, half resigned.

"Guess I kind of bombed your relaxed afternoon at the beach."

Natasha chuckled at his reply, and gladly let him pull her close again. Rearranging his shorts back into place, she slipped one arm around his back and rested her other hand on his shoulder, her feet kicking slowly in the water to help steady them. She relished in his kisses, and maybe more so in the lingering proof of just how good she had just made him feel as she closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know about that,” she replied. “I’m feeling pretty relaxed right now.” If they went back to the beach and laid down in the sun again she would probably need him to roll her every so often to make sure she tanned evenly, because she was pretty sure she would fall asleep. “I do believe you still owe me an ice cream, though.” Pulling back just enough to look at him, she gave Clint a warm smile before kissing him softly, her own way of thanking him for today.

"On it, Ma'am."

Clint mock-saluted her and quickly stole another kiss before letting go off her to swim back to the beach.

"Want to wait a minute maybe?" Not likely that they'd fool anyone with returning separately if someone had been watching but it was worth a shot. "I'll have your desert ready in the meantime."

He was still feeling a little off but getting his body into action helped as usual, and by the time he waded through the shallow water back to their spot, he was at least kind of orientated again. Just as hoped, that little ice and beverage stand near to their parking space was offering the Island specialty that Clint really wanted Natasha to try. Ice cream was great and he died for a big bowl of everything every other night when he lived here.

But for freshing up on the beach during hot days, there was nothing better than a cup of granita. He wasn't sure which flavor she would prefer, so he brought a bowl of lemon, one of strawberry and one of mandarin orange, confident that they would have no problem emptying them all together. The semi frozen structure wasn't much of a stomach filler, really.

The seller looked at him a little funny when he made his order, though, and Clint made a mental note to go on a little longer run tomorrow to deal with the extra calories. Holiday or not, getting out of shape wasn't a good idea. At least balancing the cups back to the beach still was a piece of cake for someone who had trained juggling before he had been able to read and write.

"Your choice, red."

He sat down in front of Natasha on her towel this time instead of his own, longing to be close to her, and sat the bowls between them, grinning.

Natasha laughed at Clint’s attempt at being inconspicuous, but she humoured him and watched him from the buoys while he swam back to shore. His strokes were a little uneven at first but he recovered quick enough and was no worse for wear by the time he had his feet under him again.

Alone once more, she dove deep into the clear, warm water, using strong, smooth kicks to propel her toward shallower water before finally surfacing again. Making her way back to their towels, she didn’t bother to dry off, just sat cross legged on her own towel and let the sun dry the water droplets from her skin. She felt refreshed, albeit still a little tired, but definitely better than yesterday. Maybe it was just a bug made worse by fatigue and travel and she was finally getting over it. All that really mattered was that right now she felt good, and it was about time she really got to enjoy this vacation.

Slipping her sunglasses back over her eyes, Natasha smiled when Clint returned with three cups in hand and took a seat across from her. “Are we having company?” she asked, surveying her choices before selecting the orange one.

"Just wanted to make sure, there's something you'll like."

Clint felt himself blushing immediately and was glad, his skin still being heated from that very special workout covered that. He reached Natasha one of the plastic spoons he had brought along and dedicated himself fully to his lemon granita then. Yep, definitely, for that alone the travel had been completely worth it.

He noticed a movement from the corner of his eye and smiled when he spotted the boy from before, busy with his ball again. Just like before, his mother wasn't paying any attention to him, fully busy with her two baby girls. The kid was all on his own, training that throwing and clapping thing Clint had shown him. Unfortunately right on top of the very same rocks close to them, where Natasha and Clint had had their little run yesterday.

"If the kid slips and breaks his stupid neck on the rocks, it's my fault", he grumbled, only half serious. And that was why he usually kept away from minors. Somehow he always made it to fuck up.

Natasha’s smile softened, and she brushed her fingers tenderly over his hand as she took the spoon from him. Taking a bite of the ice cream, she closed her eyes and sighed. “Mm, that’s good,” she praised, letting it melt slowly on her tongue. Clint was already distracted, though, and when she opened her eyes she found him watching the boy from earlier practicing on a not so safe area of the beach.

“Do you want to go talk to him?” she offered, because she knew if something did happen to the kid Clint would definitely blame himself, and he was already blaming himself for things he didn’t have any control over. She would rather he not add anything more to that list. “I promise I won’t eat all of the ice cream while you’re gone.”

"No, it's good I guess, I..."

Clint forced himself to look away and concentrate on his desert again. He was doing it again, overthinking, overly worrying over things that weren't even in his immediate sphere. If he wanted to find his focus back, it was the little things that had to count. The lad was cute but it was a stranger's kid that he would probably never see again. He couldn't burden himself with the worries of the whole world and everyone around him. There had been a time when he had known that, and somehow he had to find back to that distance. Or he would never function right anymore in the moments, on the missions when it really counted, when he was really needed.

"Learning to let go or something", he murmured, more to himself, and lifted the cup to his mouth then to slurp the already melted part out of it.

But because he was still stumbling on that way back to professionalism and probably a big sap on top of it, he shortly turned to the boy at least to shout something about being careful at him. And was a little more relieved than he should be when the kid came down from the stupid rocks promptly and waved at them cheerfully.

"Still learning, I guess."

Sighing, Clint reached out with his spoon to steal a little from Natasha's cup, teasing her and taking his mind off things.

Natasha kept her expression neutral as she watched Clint ruminate over the situation. She was there to help him and support him, but some things he had to do on his own. She couldn’t change his mind for him, couldn’t make him think or feel things; he had to come to terms with everything that had changed for him and either work on changing it back, or figure out how to adapt to it and move forward.

Continuing to eat her ice cream, she gave him all the time in the world, completely uninterrupted, to think, smiling when he settled on yelling a warning to the kid. Thankfully the boy heeded the suggestion and jumped down on the the more solid and safe sand.

“We’re all still learning. Every day,” she said. Playfully poking at his hand with her spoon when he stole a bit from her dish, she impulsively leaned forward and stole a kiss in turn, tasting the lemon on his tongue. “Mmm, that one is good too,” she said, pulling back and licking her lips.

Clint meant to argue for a moment, point out that Natasha always seemed perfectly balanced in everything she was doing. But then he remembered the night before, the morning especially, and kept silent. They all had their scars and traumas, Natasha most of them of all people he knew, and they all struggled to deal with them. In a way it was comforting to know, he wasn't the only one feeling lost sometimes.

Of course she couldn't let him get away with his teasing, not that he complained. Any excuse for a kiss, really. Or for making her laugh.

"Their lemon stuff is great. Next time we're out at night, real ice cream is on the plan. You won't ever want to go home afterwards. They've got a special lemon growing or something on the island, makes them less sour or something. Yep, I do my research on my food", he added, grinning. "Farmer's kid and all, I guess, some stuff sticks. One day when I'm too old for the field, you'll see me plowing somewhere in Kansas with a bunch of horses and three dogs."

Not that he had been on his home farm for about 35 years or something and he certainly didn't feel the need. But one single positive feeling he did remember about his early childhood... The remoteness of living so close with nature, countless corners to play and find shelter. Peaceful isolation in the middle of a corn field, with the sun shining down a golden light through the corn ears into your hiding place.

"Can hardly remember much except for beer and fists, but sometimes I still dream of this damn farm. The mind's a weird place."

Clint didn’t often talk about his childhood. It wasn’t that he hid it, and if she asked he would probably share, but it had been far from a pleasant time in his life and dredging up the memories wasn’t something he seemed particularly keen on. Every once in a while, though, he would broach the subject himself, and Natasha always listened with interest. She wanted to know everything about him, but it always meant so much more when he offered the information without prompting, trusting her with it because he wanted to, not because she did.

“Amidst all the bad memories there are always a few good ones, and those are the ones to hold onto,” she said, touching his knee lightly. She liked to picture it sometimes, Clint hard at work in a field, the sun shining on his tanned and sweat-slicked skin, his muscles rippling as he worked, an that look of peace on his face that she imagined he would have if all the rest of the world melted away. No S.H.I.E.L.D., no Loki, just the earth and the sun and the task at hand. Sometimes she thought he would be perfectly happy like that and wondered why he didn’t leave to pursue it.

Sometimes she was pretty sure it was her holding him back.

Finishing her ice cream, Natasha set the cup aside and stole a small taste of the third cup that remained between them, her expression betraying nothing that was running through her mind. If it was her, if he stayed to be with her, if that was the truth... would she do anything about it? Could she give up the adrenaline rush, give up everything she had ever known and was good at, to live a simple life? Could she do that for him?

“You may be right. I am beginning to think that nothing here tastes bad,” she said. “I’ll be so spoiled by the end of the week I may never want to leave.”

"Two months in, you'd probably hire with local police to not go crazy", Clint answered dryly, just a twitch around the corner of his mouth remaining of the grin before.

Natasha fell a little too serious for his taste and he already gave himself a mental slap for bringing up the wrong subject. It was small signs only, the way she fled into starting on their third granita instead of looking at him, a few too long moments between her sentences. It wasn't always as easy, but most of the time, he knew how to read Natasha by now.

He answered her touch with his own fingertips teasing the insides of her knee and thigh and got himself a taste of their strawberry cup too, spoons dueling playfully while he pondered if pressing the subject was a good or bad idea. Swallowing everything, keeping things for himself, though, that he had done long enough and it hadn't exactly ended well. Even if they were just fooling around with dreams of another life, he wanted to be honest with Natasha.

"We're both a little to young for retirement, I guess. But I'm thinking, we should take breaks like this regularly. Doesn't have to be a farm in the middle of nowhere, but... you know. Getting away from everything S.H.I.E.L.D..
Before I was assigned to New Mexico, when Thor first crashed on Earth, I haven't been on holiday for a single week, ever since I started working for Fury. Didn't get much better afterwards. I always felt I'm missing something, that I had to devote my life to the field completely. Maybe we need to take a breath from time to time to keep functioning."

Clint could tell. No matter how well she thought she was hiding her inner thoughts, he could always at least tell that there was more going on under the surface. He knew her far too well by now. So why was she still trying? He was being completely honest with her, yet she still struggled to give him the same. It was something she would definitely have to work on if they were truly going to get past all of this.

She thought about how to broach the subject while they ate, but before she could come up with what to say Clint beat her to it, offering up an option that she definitely could live with, one she could even look forward to. When she looked up to meet his eyes her smile was genuine. “I like that,” she said. “Especially if they’re all like this.”

Part of her issues probably had to do with the fact that she never really believed she would ever retire, not because she would never consider it, but because she didn’t think she would live that long. She was very good at surviving at all costs, but the nature of her work made it far more likely that one day someone would get the better of her before she had chance to give it all up herself. “A way of easing into it.” And maybe that was exactly what she needed. If she lived only to work then eventually it would end, but if there was something outside of that, a future to look forward to, maybe she would make it. Less chance of making a mistake if they weren’t constantly running themselves into the ground.

"Exactly."

Natasha's smile only added to this very positive prospect of a future, that not too long ago he hadn't even thought he would have. Not the way he wanted to live his life, with giving as much as he could for the good of the people... and out of it, chasing that little part of happiness people like them could have.

They wouldn't always do it together, couldn't and shouldn't, it simply wasn't healthy, but knowing he could always come back to her for afternoons, days, weeks like this, lifted a lot of weight from his shoulders.

He leaned over to kiss that beautiful smile on her lips and softly suck the rest of strawberry stuff off them at the same time. When he backed away, that teasing little note had crept back into his grin.

"Though I have to say, you would make a ravishing farmer wife. Breeding horses, lifting hey bales, heavy sweating all day... And in the evening I'll sing us some Eagles and John Denver on the porch..."

They would probably never have a normal life, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t inject some normalcy into it. They could go on vacations, they could lay on the beach, and apparently they could even unofficially adopt stray pets. Those were all things normal people did, and it was about time they gave it a try.

So far, Natasha was very much enjoying it.

She could still taste the lemon on his lips, now mixed with strawberry and the lingering orange on her own tongue. It tasted wonderful, and she was still smiling when he pulled back, though her eyebrows slowly raised at his teasing words.

“If we wear ourselves out working hard all day that may be all we’re good for in the evenings,” she gave it right back. Honestly, she loved to hear him sing, though she usually only heard it when she caught him unawares like back at the house

"Oh, I don't know. Don't underestimate my ability to keep you awake through hours of silly action movies."

Clint raised one eyebrow in mock challenge and licked his lips slowly, savoring the mixed flavor of the two of them together. Yep, he definitely could get used to afternoons like this for a little while.

There was exactly one spoonful left in that cup when he reached into it next time, and he held it playfully between them, teasing Natasha to be faster than him. It was of course completely by accident that his hand was slightly heeling and a few drops of the melted sugary stuff dropped on Natasha's knee...

“That is something I will never do,” she replied, shaking her head slightly. Even during the most boring movies Clint found various ways to keep her entertained.

Watching him dish up the last spoonful and hold it between them, Natasha raised one eyebrow at him. This could end badly if they both went for it, but she had a feeling he had something else in mind, a theory that panned out when he tipped the spoon a little, letting some of the melted dessert drip onto her leg. In the blink of an eye her hand shot out to catch his wrist, so quick yet somehow not tipping the spoon. Holding his gaze, she slowly moved his hand a little closer, before deliberately spilling just a little more of the strawberry dessert onto her skin.

Always the gentleman, Clint of course left that last spoonful for Natasha. He tickled her lower lip shortly with the edge of the spoon before he gave in and carefully fed her the rest of their desert.

As soon as that spoon was empty though, he bent down to her leg and ran his tongue playfully over her skin, thoroughly cleaning up every little drop he had spilled.

"Perfect taste. We need to do this more often."

With a big grin on his face, he straightened back up and licked his lips again provocatively.

Of course Clint let her have the last mouthful, though there was plenty left on her leg to make up for it, and he very dutifully cleaned up every last drop. Barely holding back her grin, she threaded her fingers together behind his neck and leaned in a little closer.

“Maybe we should pick up some for tonight...” she suggested. It was more a tease than an actual suggestion, though if Clint wanted to cover her in sweets and lick every inch of her body clean then she certainly wasn’t going to say no. Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, she let the rather delicious image linger in her mind.

"I'll keep it in mind."

The wolfish expression on Clint's face let Natasha know, he definitely filed that idea for some time in the near future.

For now he was feeling full and lazy though. After another quick kiss on that sinfully seductive thing she did with her lips, he set the empty cups aside and laid back on his towel with a heavy sigh.

"Just wake me up before they roll me back to the sea, okay?"

He patted that certain little softness of his belly and barely hid a yawn behind his other hand. Reading one or two chapters to get his mind away from certain night activities would have been nice now. But he'd probably drop halfway through the first page and end up with the shape of the cover tanned onto his face.

Letting Clint return to his towel, she straightened hers out and brushed some of the sand off of it before stretching out her legs. “I would hope that if anyone started trying to roll you away you would wake up anyhow,” she said, poking him playfully in the belly. “But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Leaning away to search through her beach bag, Natasha came up with one of the books she had picked up at the market. It was already battered and well worn so she was able to hold it open easily with one hand. Laying down on her side facing Clint, she propped her head up with her other hand and flipped to the first page expertly with her thumb. Peering over the book at Clint’s face, she studied him a moment, the way his long lashes just brushed upon his cheeks. Impulsively, when she began to read she did so aloud.

“The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone...”

((Excerpt from The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle))

Clint opened half an eyelid in surprise when Natasha started reading out loud and turned his head to her to watch her. Unicorns and magic and fantasy... Not what he would pick himself for entertainment.

But hearing it in Natasha's voice, this rich promising rough timbre that could tell whole stories with each syllable if she allowed it... It certainly made it worth listening.

And he just didn't get tired of watching her like this, relaxed, doing things solely for fun. There was that cute little crinkle of concentration between her brows that she probably wasn't even aware of. Reading out loud wasn't something they had to do often in their line of work and it was a challenge for voice and language. Clint knew that first hand, from many lessons of speech training without his hearing implants, in case of emergency.

Natasha's English was flawless, without a trace of accent if she willed it to, but reciting a whole new text like that on first read, in her second language... He felt she had to slow down a little from her usual efficient professionalism, and he liked it. Relaxing, slowing down, that was what they had come for here after all.

He felt too exhausted to keep on watching her all the time but he certainly kept on listening, even with his eyes closed, drifting between a little dozing and just enjoying the sun on his skin and his partner telling him things about speaking animals. It was as close to perfect as it could get.

"I hope this has a happy ending", he chuckled once when Natasha had to take a breath. "Suffering animals make me cry."

She noticed the movement when Clint turned his head but she didn’t look up at him. She was feeling a bit embarrassed that she had started this, that she had presumed that he might enjoy being read to, but she didn’t want him to know that so she kept reading instead, hoping he wouldn’t laugh at her for what was probably a childish notion. It was one of the few things she remembered of her parents, how her mother used to read her stories, and while so many other memories had faded or been tampered with, that was one she always kept close to her heart.

She concentrated on the words, on forming them correctly and without too much of her old accent shining through, but soon she was engrossed enough in the story to forget her insecurities. If she slipped up here and there it didn’t matter and she just kept going. After a while she paused and reached for the nearest bottle of water. Setting the book face down on the towel, she was slightly startled when Clint spoke, assuming he must have fallen asleep by then. Taking a long drink, she recapped the bottle and set it aside.

“I hope so too,” she admitted. She didn’t have a specific genre she preferred to read, she would try anything as it was the characters and their journeys that she was interested in. If I character grabbed her and she became invested in them then it didn’t matter who they were, what they were, she would keep reading.

His talk of suffering animals, though, took her mind back to their little house and the tiny kitten that was probably waiting for them back there. They had bought her some things at the market that they had yet to share, and while they both claimed it wasn’t really their cat, that they this was only temporary, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty for leaving the little thing.

Looking over at Clint, his eyes still closed and a slight smile on his lips, a part of her hated to disturb him, but she still reached over to playfully run a fingertip over his brows, down the ridge of his nose, and across his lips, tracing the features she knew so well.

“We should probably get back soon before my skin winds up as red as my hair,” she said. It was true, she was really starting to feel the heat of the sun on her skin in that way that signified that she either had to apply more sunscreen or find some shade. And if it meant they got to go take care of the little one then that was just a bonus.

Clint smiled against her fingertip and left a small kiss on it, still with closed eyes, trying to find his way out of this comfortable haze.

"Hm-hm, but we're totally continuing this next time we're here. Now I want to know how the story ends."

Not wanting Natasha to end up with a sunburn was enough motivation to get up, stretching and yawning, and angling his way into his clothes. They were packed quickly, working with the efficiency of years, and on their way back to their scooter while Clint was still trying to blink the tiredness from his eyes. He did spot his little friend with the ball from before, though, and shortly waved at the kid, smiling when he was greeted back enthusiastically.

While he fortunately didn't burn easy himself at all, his own skin felt dry and salt crusted. A shower and a few lazy minutes on the sofa before diner were definitely in order. He emptied his water bottle during the short walk and grimaced at the stale lukewarm taste that didn't really help freshen him up. Stopping by their ride, he played with the keyring indecisively.

"Want to throw a coin for the wheel?"

“I suppose I can agree to that,” Natasha replied. She was relieved that he didn’t seem put off by her little narrative session, and more than a little pleased that he actually wanted to continue it. If she felt the need to read something in the seldom moments that he wasn’t around, she had picked up several other books to keep her busy. This one could wait on him.

Pulling her dress back over her suit, she tied her damp hair back in the scarf and helped Clint pack their things and gather their garbage to dump on the way back to the road. Securing their bag on the scooter, she turned to look at him a moment as he contemplated who should drive. Pursing her lips as if considering the question, she suddenly thrust her hand out instead and snatched the keys from his hand in a lightening quick movement. “I believe it’s my turn,” she said with a grin as she settled herself in the front.

"I have no objections."

Clint was more than happy to just relax this time around and took his seat behind Natasha without complaint. His hands were on her waist immediately, more gentle than anything. He knew better than to distract her on a foreign, slightly dangerous road.

For a few minutes he just enjoyed the draft of the fast ride cooling his skin and the view down on the ocean from the serpentines, where the sun was slowly beginning to fall. He couldn't remember when last he had experienced such a perfect day. Certainly not something he had expected just a few weeks ago.

He folded his hands in front of Natasha's belly, caressed her softly, feather light enough to not disturb her, and murmured something close to her ear. She probably wouldn't hear with the wind blowing around them, but he was pretty certain, she knew already.

At least he didn't feel like falling asleep anymore when they arrived. And of course they were awaited impatiently.

"I thought I told you not to get too used to it", he grumbled when they passed their little visitor by to get into the house. But it sounded kind of amused, friendly this time. There was no escaping from this story anyway, he could as well stop pretending.

He needed to get to the kitchen first thing anyway, to get a good cold bottle of water from the fridge. That was a good excuse to break in these bowls he had bought for some reason in the morning. The kitten looked still a little small for full time meals, so he stayed with the milk thing for now and only snatched a few of the small chicken meat pieces he meant to use for cooking in the next days.

"I think it's your turn, honey", he grinned at Natasha when he was done, holding up the bowls.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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