study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

"Quick as usual."

Suppressing a yawn, Clint blinked at her lazily. The awkward angle had him grinning and crane his neck to steal a kiss.

"Take your time. We should appreciate it that we don't have to be anywhere for a change, I guess."

Also, he was pretty sure he needed another dose of caffeine before he was ready to move again.

“I never saw the point in wasting time and fretting over what to pack. If something is forgotten it can always be bought there,” she said with a shrug.

Seeing Clint looking so relaxed and dozy, Natasha smiled softly at him and brushed her fingertips over his freshly shaved skin.

“True. Today is all ours.” Leaning down to give him one last quick kiss, she soon disappeared back into the washroom, the sound of the hair dryer cutting the silence a moment later.

Today, and after taking care of business tomorrow then hopefully many days after as well would be free to do whatever they wanted.

The monotonous sound of the hair-blower soon let Clint fall into more lazy dozing. But just like with the sound of an engine of every vehicle he didn't have to drive himself, he was awake as soon as it was turned off. With a sore neck, from his head being craned to the side for too long.

"I swear, one of these days they'll give me a Darwin-award, Nat."

With a little grimace, he tried to stretch some feeling back into his muscles. Great. Like they weren't over sensitive from always being too tense these days anyway.

"And I'm going soft. Not opposed to do some sparring from time to time, once we arrive. You haven't kicked my ass for too long."

Packing away her hair dryer once she was finished, Natasha carefully brushed out her hair. She hadn’t cut it in well over a year and it reached down past her shoulders again in soft waves.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she called back to Clint as she tied his scarf back around her neck. “You’re pretty good at pulling yourself out of the stupid situations you get yourself into.”

When she emerged from the washroom she was grinning teasingly at him. Noting how he was rubbing his neck, she crossed the room and immediately took a seat on the sofa beside him, half turned to face him, and made a twirling motion with her finger to indicate he should turn around so she could work the muscles for him.

“I’m sure I can accommodate that,” she said. “It has been a long time. I’m surprised I haven’t gone into withdrawls yet.”

Clint followed her gesture with a thankful smile, turning away from her with crossed legs and his head bent to give her better access.

"I'll make sure, you'll get your share. I'll insist on including at least one stick fighting round, though. Want to have a shot at beating you at least."

Once Clint was situated Natasha placed her hands softly on his neck and started massaging the muscles there. They were tenser on one side, clearly caused by the way he had been sitting, and she concentrated on the worst of it first with even pressure.

“You always have a shot at beating me,” she said, a teasing note in her voice. “It just the only shot you always miss.”

With the first of her touches he went slack, deep, comfortable sighs escaping his lips. They were only interrupted by small winces, when her skilled fingers found the new knot of muscles he had just made to get himself there.

"Yeah, yeah, you want some salt and chili to treat that burn with?"

He didn't make it to sound offended, it felt much too good what she was doing back there.

"One of these days I'll throw you down in that ring, Nat. And I think, then I'll be allowed to make a wish, right?"

At Clint’s reply Natasha chuckled, the sound low and almost husky. He was completely relaxed and pliant beneath her hands, hands that had snapped more than one neck in her short lifetime, and she treated him with the same care that such trust warranted.

“Is that how it works?” she questioned, working her thumb into a particularly tough knot. “The winner gets to make a wish?”

"Hm-hm. It's a matter of honor, loser can't say no to anything... Can you do that again?"

While not exactly painless, that last move of hers had pressed some of that stinging heat out of his sore muscles, and he sighed again, soon hypnotized by the magic her hands were working on him.

"Should do that more often. You're great at this."

His hand sneaked back to softly caress her thigh while his shoulders fell even lower, complete relaxation settling in.

At Clint’s request Natasha repeated the press of her thumb, working a little deeper though still being mindful of hurting him. “The loser can’t say no to anything? And I am just learning about this now?” she said, her other hand moving down his back slightly. “I think you may owe me a few wishes.”

She had always had a certain sort of power over men, but this was different, Clint was different, and feeling him practically melt beneath her hands gave her a certain sense of pride. Her hands weren’t just weapons, just instruments of death; they could be gentle, caring; they could bring pleasure, not just pain; they could heal heal as well as hurt. Clint made her feel like nobody else ever had: he made her feel human.

“Is that what you would wish for if you beat me? More massages?” she asked, leaning forward a little to bring her lips closer to his ear. He didn’t have to wish for it, she was already making a mental note to do this more often.

"Where's the fun if I tell you in advance?"

He chuckled and pressed her thigh softly, letting her know, he was just joking, of course. One of the first things he had said to her, back then when they had first met, was that with him, she would never be forced to do anything, with him she always had full control of what was happening, and up to today he had hold on to that.

"But yeah, I think I'll have to make up for that a bit once we beat the Sunday afternoon shopping madness."

He craned his head aside carefully once more and sighed a breath of relief when he could do it without feeling like it would get stuck there anymore.

"I might come back to that offer with the massages, though, anyway. Will need it once you pinned me to the floor a dozen times in one hour."

She felt the reassuring press on her leg, knew what it meant. Clint was the first person in her life who had never tried to force her to do anything, the first person who had ever truly given her a choice, and for that she would always be grateful, she would always owe him. Because of him she had been able to discover who she truly was, and there was no thanks enough for such a gift.

“I guess I will just have to let my imagination wander, then,” she replied, giving his ear a playful nip before pulling back a little to let him test his movement. She was pleased when he seemed content with her work, and placed a quick kiss on that particularly stubborn spot before wrapping her arms around his chest and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“The offer remains on the table. Anytime you need it,” she said. “Now speaking of Sunday shopping, we should probably get started before it gets even busier.”

Upon reflection they probably should have done the shopping first before the church crowd let out and before she had a suitcase to lug around with them, but at least it was small and unimposing and there wasn’t really much they needed.

"Please tell me, there's a Starbucks on the way."

After returning the favor with a teasing quick bite of her earlobe, Clint lifted himself off the sofa, hardly suppressing a yawn, and held the door open for her.

"Or I'll probably end up with a pink swimsuit for myself and the fitting plush cuffs."

“There is always a Starbucks on the way,” Natasha chuckled. You could pretty much throw a stone in any direction and hit one, and if not Starbucks then at least some hole in the wall coffee joint. “Don’t worry, we’ll get some fuel into you so you can function.”

Removing her arms from around him, she followed him to her feet and retrieved her bag from her bedroom. Adding Clint’s belt to the bits of his clothing she still wore she joined him again at the door, slipping on her boots and jacket before stepping out through.

“Now there is an image,” she said, pausing to lock the door behind them. “Though maybe we should make it purple.”

"One day I will find the one who came up with the purple-rumor", Clint grumbled as they walked down the stairs. "Thinking about getting an all-purple uniform, just to satisfy people, you know. Unfortunately I think that would go against S.H.I.E.L.D.'s under the radar-policy."

He let Natasha lead the way since he wasn't too often in this part of the city but the next mall certainly couldn't be far. There was also a memorial on the way that he knew of, since one of the smaller Chitauri-bombs had gone astray down in a block of flats around here. But after all they had already talked through today, he thought, he didn't have much of a problem with that. The whole city was a fucking memorial to him.

It was a certain flyer they passed several times on the way, close to that small marble statue of a fallen alien warrior, that caught his attention. Only when he took a closer look, he knew why his instincts had been set on alert, even from the corner of his eye. The vague identikit picture held significant resemblance with his own face.

"Seems the network sweepers missed another conspiracy website."

His jaw tightened immediately, as much as his shoulders as if that massage just a few minutes ago hadn't even taken place. He really had hoped, this bullshit was off the table by now. Someone taking a few blurry pictures with a mobile phone from afar in Stuttgart, a few paranoids on the internet taking a too close look at certain footage from New York... And now, every few weeks he had to think of covering his face when he left the house. Sometimes he wondered if the council even wanted this crap to stop.

“Purple wouldn’t be very inconspicuous,” Natasha agreed, extending the handle on her roller suitcase once they reached the foot of the stairs. “Better to stick with the uniform you have.”

Natasha knew that walking through the city probably wasn’t very pleasant for Clint, but she didn’t push him to get a cab, didn’t mention any discomfort. He would have to face it eventually and she would give him the chance each time, just making sure she was ready to remove him or be there for him if it became too much.

When he stopped to take a closer look at one of the flyers she paused beside him and took a look herself. Even she had to clench her jaw a little. They had done what they’d had to do to protect the city, but having their faces out there went against all of her instincts. Tearing down one of the flyers she folded it and stuffed it into her back pocket. “We’ll take it in tomorrow and make sure someone starts doing their job.”

Getting away for a while was looking better and better by the moment.

Slipping her arm through his, she gave him a light tug. “Come on, let’s get that coffee.”

"Maybe I should think about wearing a mask. Would go good with that purple spandex."

So, he was actually capable of joking, instead of kicking the next tree or trashcan which was his preferred way of compensation. Probably a step into the right direction.

He still was glad when they came pass the nearest green mermaid logo and could get away from the streets for a while. Maybe not the best idea, being around people in this part of the city, as long as these bullshit sheets were plastering a few trees. Fortunately that drawing really didn't look a lot like him.

Maybe he was just sick of hiding too.

"May I buy my lady a cacao or something? For the unconditional support?"

He pressed her arm around his shortly, searching through the offers of season specialties and was surprised to feel, he was a little hungry again. Apparently frustration burned a lot of calories.

"Better hope we get out of there tomorrow. The physical supervisors probably wouldn't be happy if I treat my beer belly with this stuff... Is that a caramel-white chocolate crunch frappucino over there?"

“I suppose if we’re going to be super heroes then masks come with the territory,” Natasha replied, pursing her lips as if contemplating the costume change. “Besides, it would help Steve look less foolish in his if we all wore them.”

If he could joke about it maybe they were on the healing road, maybe they could really get through this.

Stepping into the warm building, Natasha pressed herself just a little closer to Clint as they queued up, her acknowledgement of his simple gratitude. “You may. But nothing unusual,” she accepted the offer. Of course she expected Clint to order the most complicated and ridiculous sounding thing on the menu and probably end up spending eight dollars on a coffee, and she chuckled a little when he commented on exactly one of those things.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get plenty of exercise while we’re away,” she replied, not even entertaining his doubt that they might not be allowed to leave. “You’ll be in better shape than ever by the time we get back... not that I don't love your beer belly, as you call it.”

In fact, she really enjoyed the certain softness of his body. He was fit and defined, but he didn't have that hard, sculpted look and feel that some men did. She much preferred him the way he was.

"Good to know. Guess I'll better start saving some energy for all this exercise."

And just because he was so much not in the mood for following health rules today, Clint went exactly for that calorie bomb he had just spotted. After a short grin at Natasha, added a large gingerbread latte with cream and chocolate chips on top, waiting for her to form a protest if she wasn't into it at all while he dug out his wallet from his jacket.

"That's one of the things I miss when we're on a mission in the middle of nowhere", he admitted with a guilty grin. "You know. All this perfectly American stuff. You never know how much you love it until you're in the dune for a week, living on bugs."

“We’ll have plenty of time to relax in between,” she said. She definitely planned on doing some relaxing; while they were away they could afford the luxury of staying in bed all day if they wanted, and long luxurious baths. There was nowhere they would have to be, they could live on their own schedule. It was sounding better by the moment.

Of course Natasha knew it wouldn’t last forever, that before too long she would feel that itch for action, that need to get back out there, back on the job; she just hoped Clint would be ready too. She hadn’t yet let herself even consider the possibility that he might want to make the vacation more permanent.

Looking over at him when he ordered her a drink that was the epitome of the ‘unusual’ she had stated against, she merely rolled her eyes at him, a smile twitching the corner of her lips, and said nothing.

“Oh, you mean American’s tendency to overindulge in absolutely everything?” she responded sweetly.

"Of course. It's part of our culture", Clint answered, grinning, not the least offended. It wasn't a good day if they didn't tease each other plenty. "What would all the other countries do if they couldn't make fun of us? Cheers, by the way."

They found a quiet little corner by the counter and Clint started digging into his cream-crunch topping with pleasure. The majority people around them were too busy with laptops or mobiles to pay attention to them, so there was no reason not to take a short break.

When he got his own phone out to check for answers on the e-mails from before, his face darkened at once and he hurried to put it back and went back to try and enjoy simple pleasures, without worrying about the same everyday bullshit again. Well, that had happened faster than expected after all.

“Hmm, you make a good point,” Natasha replied. “I suppose the rest of the world could make fun of Canada instead, but it seems so mean spirited to do so to such an apologetic country.”

There were many facets to a healthy relationship. Yes, they dealt with the bad things; they supported each other and had each other’s backs, but there were also plenty of good times. There had to be laughter and teasing, that was what made it all worth it.

Settling in at the table, Natasha contemplated her fancy looking drink. “I don’t even know how people drink these,” she said, poking a finger experimentally into the whipped cream and plucking a chocolate chip from the top. Popping it into her mouth she looked up in time to see Clint stashing his phone away, his expression considerably darker than it had been just a moment ago. She frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

"Just a friendly reminder from the paper pusher office, that I'm supposed to stay close to a US ground base or within reach of a supervisor officer, in case of a required medical evaluation. Should have used a fake ID for that ticket."

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."

Natasha watched Clint closely as he spoke, taking in every twitch and tick. He was putting on a good show of being composed but she could see how much this had affected him, just how thin his control was wearing. Shifting in her seat she pressed her knee against his beneath the table.

“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...”

"Trying to."

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?"

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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