study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

It would probably be a good idea to close all the doors and relegate her to just the kitchen and living space, just in case. Might help to keep her out of trouble too if they removed as much temptation as they could.

Either way it was adorable to see Clint talk to the cat like that.

“A walk sounds nice,” Natasha agreed, straightening back up and heading back to the kitchen for their tea. “And how about the beach later?”

Sick or no, the weather would turn soon enough and she didn’t want to waste the time they had to just relax in the sun, swim in the warm water, and simply enjoy themselves out in the open.

"You'll never hear me say no to the beach."

Clint tore himself away from playing with little one reluctantly and shooed her out of the door, not without the promise that she could come back later, though. They still had to keep her fed and all, after all.

"Want my cappy again? You looked cute with it", he grinned at Natasha when he quickly pulled out a new shirt from his drawer and spotted said piece of clothing on top of it.

Aside from looking cute, it would help her protect herself from the sun which would be important if she wasn't feeling that well yet.

Clint managed to get Liho back outside with little fuss, which probably had to do at least partially to the fact that she was already aware that it was only temporary.

“Cute?” Natasha repeated, scrunching up her nose, well, cutely as she returned to the living room, a mug in each hand. “Not usually a term used to describe me.” Beautiful, sexy, intimidating, even scary, but cute? Only Clint could get away with that one. Still, stopping in front of him she tilted her head forward so he could place the hat on her head.

"Yep, cute. Sometimes. A little."

Clint placed the cappy on her head and held her face softly between his hands, smiling at her little pout. No, cute wasn't something one would usually associate with the master killer Natasha Romanoff.

But it wasn't the killer he was so deeply in love with. It was the woman, the adorable girl she sometimes could be, the breathtakingly attractive lady with the wild red curls, a perfect dream come true. He loved all these little parts that made her whole, that made her his, and this was a good moment to tell her, he decided. He whispered it against her lips between two kisses, very quietly, as if no one else was allowed to hear it.

"Thanks", he mumbled then, taking the mug from her and taking a few first sips. It actually wasn't half-bad, he found. "Lead the way? I think we can both use a little sun."

His touch was so gentle, loving, and Natasha’s expression quickly softened. He looked at her like she was the only woman in the world, like she was everything good and beautiful and important. He made her feel like her life was worth something, for if she could make him happy then... well, that was worth everything.

His words were quiet yet unrestrained, and had she not been holding two mugs of hot tea she would have thrown her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She wanted to blame hormones, but it was probably just as likely that she had never been loved like this before, a love so deep and true that she had a hard time believing it was real some days. Clint knew her, knew the darkest parts of her, yet he could still say words like these and mean every syllable. Maybe some day that fact would cease to amaze her, but not today.

Directly afterwards he relieved her of one of the mugs, leaving one of her hands free. She wanted to touch him everywhere, to tangle fingers in his hair, to squeeze his hand, to trace his lips with her fingertips. Unable to decide she brushed off the idea all together and sipped her tea instead, her eyes watching him as he tried his, searching his face for any indication of what he thought of it.

Turning toward the door she did take his hand then, entwining their fingers together as they stepped out into the morning sun.

Autumn was happening, this noon they really couldn't deny feeling it anymore. It still was very warm under the high sun, but not unbearable hot. The leaves were starting to run orange and the smell of grape and olive oil harvest was in the air. People were more busy than usual, starting to renovate their houses for winter or do their own little harvest in their private gardens.

It was a rich, promising smell of work and crop which reminded Clint of his very first, long left behind home, as it happened so often these days. He found, surprised, that he began putting up with these kind of memories instead of locking them away immediately, like he had done it for decades. He let the hurt and bitterness pass and concentrated on the few good things this smell thought, accepting them as part of his past just like the other happy times he had had.

It was the harder way, maybe, the one he had to feel and deal with more, but in the long run maybe it was better to live a life with a little weight on his shoulders than always pretending. And spending his nights more screaming and crying than finding strength for a new day.

His tea was nearly finished, he realized in another moment of surprise, when he finally tore himself out of melancholy to really recognize, not just see, where they were actually headed. They had gone steadily up, that much he knew, but it had been a harmless, low rise, not one of these inhuman, dangerous stone stairs that connected the levels of the city.

They weren't too far gone, still in the neighborhood, the better one, really, where the houses and gardens were very neat and colorful and the autumn roses spread a nearly numbing breeze.

What had made him wake from his thoughtfulness though was a sound he had come to know very well by now... Quiet meowing, from many kittens, who sounded older than their little ward was.

"Ah. Feeding time at Angelina's."

He nodded at a small white house on the other side of the street, with a completely open garden. In between thick, overgrown bushes they could spot their householder in a group of cats with a huge bucket over her arm, throwing out little pieces of meat and fruit to her crowd. Not a scene he wanted to disturb, for more than one reason.

"Just warning you, she probably won't rest until she knows all about the baby if we go there now."

The walk was pleasant, quiet, comfortable, and Natasha found she was feeling much better for it. It was warm but not too warm, the air was fresh and full of wonderful smells, the people busy but friendly. It was easy to see why Clint was so taken with the place, and the more time spent out in it the more she became the same.

Clint seemed to be pretty lost in his thoughts so she left him to them and focused her own mind on everything around them. It was almost like a meditation technique, taking everything in, all the sights, smells and sounds, as well as the general feeling.

By the time Clint roused himself from his thoughts Natasha had done well centering herself, though when he said what he did she felt her nerves flaring up again and her hand moved instinctively to her stomach. A lot of women kept their pregnancies secret for the first trimester for many reasons, and while Natasha wasn’t a superstitious person she couldn’t help but feel like the less they talked about the baby until they passed that point the better.

“Maybe another time?” she replied, hoping that Clint understood. She didn’t want to be rude, didn’t want to snub the woman who had been so kind and helpful, but it was too soon, too unsure. The more they talked about it the more real it became, and if something happened...

It was easier to remain as detached as possible from the whole idea, at least for another couple of weeks.

"Of course. We have time."

Clint let go off her hand just to wrap his arm around her next and gently lead the way, taking a turn before they could pass or even come in sight of that one certain house. They did have time, as much as they wanted to take it. Since no one had neared the city with a helicopter yet to take them back to the States and Fury even refrained from hacking into their phone lines so far, there was no reason to assume otherwise. They could go for a diner to his neighbor sometime in the next weeks, when they were both feeling a little more certain and up to questions about this whole thing.

He pressed his lips to Natasha's temple for a moment, trying to soothe that sudden tension in her body, and smiled a little against her skin.

"You smell like peppermint."

Natasha let Clint lead her away, grateful that he understood, and that he managed to maneuver them out of there before they were seen. Another week or two to digest everything and make sure that things were still going well, then maybe they could invite Angelina over for dinner.

It was easy to think that, of course, but the actual doing would be a little more difficult. Not as difficult, though, as telling the people back home, starting with Fury. The director would not be pleased, but he would have to deal with it. What it meant for their jobs, though, Natasha wasn’t sure.

The others wouldn’t be so bad. Steve and Pepper would likely be very happy for them, and Tony... he would be happy to have some new material to torture them with. It would all be very interesting to say the least.

Leaning into Clint’s side, she smiled at his words. “So do you,” she said. “Did you like it? The tea.”

"It certainly beats emptying one water bottle after another."

Clint let his fingertips draw soft circles on Natasha's hip and left a kiss on her face from time to time, making use of their close embrace. From time to time he inhaled deeply , with a goofy smile on his face. The smell of autumn was awesome, promising and full of colors, but his favorite scent in the world was still his partner's.

"Maybe we should try something with fruits next. Can't promise I won't be all over you afterwards, though..."

Natasha enjoyed these quiet moments, and just being close to Clint. She had never been one for showing affection in public, but here with him she had no complaints. It was actually kind of nice, to be so open about their relationship. He was the most important thing in her life and he made her happy, so why should she hide that? Maybe it was how she was brought up, that she had to hide the things she cared about or they would be taken from her, but that wasn’t foolproof. She had kept him secret before, had tried to keep it casual, but she had still almost lost him. It had taken her a long time but she had eventually realised that it was better to live, to enjoy what they had now, because she couldn’t predict the future.

But if anyone else tried to take him from her she would absolutely destroy them.

“You can’t promise that anyway,” she teased, grinning up at him. “Maybe I’ll make some tonight and put it on ice. The afternoons are still too warm for hot tea.”

"Don't challenge me. I can live a monk's life if I have to."

Her teasing only got an amused grin out of Clint. Of course he was crazy for her body, just as much as for everything else that was her, and since he was pretty sure, she was just as much crazy for him, that was completely okay. Their relationship was deep and serious enough to survive without any physical aspect as the last days had proven so flawlessly.

Which didn't mean he'd refuse getting his lips all over Natasha's naked body at the next offered chance.

"Self-made iced tea? Told you, we'll make cooks out of ourselves after all", he laughed quietly and pressed another kiss to Natasha's temple.

Their house was coming in sight in the distance, but he didn't feel like going inside just yet, instead held to sit down on a low garden wall for a moment to enjoy a few more minutes of sun.

“You, a monk?” Natasha scoffed. “I think you would explode.” Regarding him a moment her expression grew a bit wicked. “Though it would be fun to try to make you break your vows...”

Of course she was just as crazy for him as he was for her, that much was obvious whenever they were alone and their lives weren’t in upheaval. They were more than just the physical, though; so much more, and that was something Natasha hadn’t had for a very long time, and something that had taken her a while to accept.

Settling down on the wall beside him, she folded her hands on her lap and swung her legs, just enjoying their surroundings, the quiet nature of this place. “There’s not much to making iced tea, but I will take the praise,” she said, bumping her shoulder lightly against his.

"Hey, we gotta start somewhere, right? First chapter: drinks. Next we move on to soup. Always wanted to know how they make that carrot ginger thing in that diner next to the headquarters."

Instead of teasing back, Clint leaned down to press his lips to Natasha's shoulder, nuzzling his cheek softly against her sun-warmed skin, and sneaked his arm around her waist. They probably looked a bit like teenagers, hanging out on their first date, and he was absolutely okay with that. He was crazy for his girl just like on the first day, after all.

"I'm pretty sure though, these vows won't last for long if I have you there in the kitchen again. You make quite the sexy cook."

“I always was good at making drinks, so we’re further ahead than we could be,” she replied, leaning into his side. Drinks that she couldn’t drink anymore, for a while at least. That didn’t mean she couldn’t mix them for Clint, though she had a good idea that if she didn’t drink them then neither would he. Just last night he had forgone wine to share juice with her instead.

For a moment she closed her eyes, just enjoying the sun on her skin and Clint’s comfortable presence at her side. Eventually she had to laugh at his statement, though.

“You just like to see me dirty and disheveled,” she said, looking at him coyly from beneath her lashes.

"Yep, I'm horribly predictable. Hence why I'm such a bad spy."

Clint gave her shoulder just the smallest playful bite and kissed the very same spot then, feather light.

"Also, if I get you a little dirty, I get to clean you up afterwards. Soap, oil, back rub, the full program. So we both win. Still owe you that message, remember?"

“You’re not a bad spy,” Natasha replied. “You’re just not a very good one either.”

She just couldn’t resist.

“How could I forget?” He did paint a very nice image, though, and it was very tempting to take him up on the offer right then, but they had just started their day and she didn’t want to waste the good whether, even though time alone with Clint would never be a waste. “Sounds like a good way to end the day.” Sun and swimming first, of course, though that also left room for Clint to get his hand on her since Natasha was a firm believer in protecting her skin, especially when it was him applying the sunscreen.

"Funny. You want some salt and tequila to rub into that wound?"

Clint put on his best pouting face but never stopped looking at Natasha from the corner of his eyes, more amused by her teasing than anything. He could do that whole secret undercover stuff of course whenever he had to, but he would never reach her level of perfection. That was okay. In return he still sometimes used to needle Natasha about her right shooting hand after all these years.

"So, off to the beach? Lunch is a little early. But hey, we still have to taste our way through all the ice cream brands available."

Of course Clint knew it was a joke; what fun would life be if they couldn’t tease each other? Natasha didn’t worry for a second that he would be honestly offended, and she stuck her own lip out in a mocking manner at him. “Aw, poor baby,” she cooed before leaning in to kiss that pouty lip gently, followed by a quick nip. He had been asking for it.

“That sounds like the perfect afternoon,” she replied, though she lingered a moment on their perch before getting to her feet.

"You're being awfully cruel today."

Clint followed her, chuckling, and worried his lower lip a little in his mouth as if to recover from that teasing bite. Of course he was only searching for another excuse for a kiss, but Natasha didn't need to know everything.

Liho was nowhere to be seen when they returned which hopefully meant, little one was out there doing a little hunting training or just enjoying the sun herself.

Clint definitely intended to do the same. He quickly changed into some bathing trunks to wear under his pants and packed that half-finished King-novel in Natasha's bag. As nice as that unicorn-story had been, continuing to read that would just bring up unpleasant memories, and they didn't need any of these right now.

"Car or scooter?"

He wasn't too keen on entering a car that had been standing in the full sun for hours, but driving the serpentines on a two wheels maybe wasn't the best for Natasha's stomach.

“Am I?” she asked. She didn’t fall for his little trick, though it was tempting to kiss him again. It was always tempting to kiss him. “I guess I’ll have to make it up to you later.”

She let that hang in the air, let his imagination run wild, as they made their way back to the house. Once inside she removed her clothes and slipped into a different bathing suit from the other day. It fit just as snugly as the other one and she frowned a little down at her body, rubbing a hand across her stomach. It was only going to get worse.

Brought out of her thoughts by Clint’s voice, she quickly pulled her shirt and shorts back on over the suit before joining him by the door. “Scooter,” she said decisively. Her stomach was feeling better, and she figured if the nausea returned it wouldn’t matter what they were driving. “Wouldn’t want to waste this weather.”

It happened pretty much out of nowhere. One second he was holding the door open for Natasha - and definitely not eying her legs and behind in these shorts when she passed him by.

One blink later he leaned heavily against that door instead of locking it and blinked away an alarming amount of black dots before his eyes.

That ice-cold, nearly painful feeling in his guts from something just being completely wrong was back, the one he had always woken up with after these nightmares he couldn't quite remember. She had worn shorts like that too, right, a little too tight from a body that was beginning to show, and...

There it was again, just for a moment, he knew who the girl was and why that scar he so seldom remembered between his shoulder blades throbbed faintly from long gone stitches.

But no, it was really only the heavy summer heat making it hard to breathe, not some old injury, and the threatening, overwhelming flashback was gone before he even knew it had rattled its chain.

With gritted teeth, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind and throw off that embarrassing weakness. Jesus, he needed more sleep and some really good energy drinks if a walk through the sun drained his energy reserves these days.

Passing Clint on her way out the door, Natasha made it almost to the corner of the house before she realised he wasn’t following. Turning around to chide him about being slow, the words died on her lips when she saw him sagging against the door and suddenly looking rather pale.

“Clint?” she called his name, already moving quickly back to his side. She watched him shake his head, saw the clear distress on his face. Something was definitely wrong. “What’s wrong?” Reaching him she laid a hand gently on his arm, and searched his face.

"Hey, you should be proud. Your ass still makes me swoon after all this time."

Joking around always made thing easier, even if his grin looked a little shaken.

"I'm okay. Just gonna get an orange or something before we leave. My body is not used to not get stuffed like a hobbit all day."

He didn't tell her about the other thing, about the memories and how shitty they made him feel, simply because there wasn't anything new to tell. Maybe they would have another most entertaining night tonight, and he could dig up some more rubbish from his subconsciousness, but for now he was happy not to think about it.

The joke fell flat, as did his explanation. She could buy that he could be hungry, but she knew him, she knew the torture he could put his body through, knew what they were trained for. There was more to it than that, but if he didn’t want to talk about it now she wouldn’t push.

“Okay,” she said, letting him go back inside. “And don’t forget the water.”

They could talk later, after a day out relaxing and enjoying the sunshine and each other Maybe whatever was bothering him wouldn't seem so bad then.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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