study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

“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?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Clint when he stole a spoonful of her fancy cup of pretty much pure sugar.

“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.

For a moment he thought about protesting... It felt a little too much like giving up another part of his autonomy that was already so damaged. Then again... It was Natasha. Of all the people who tried to tell him what was good for him right now and what not, she was the only one who actually had a right to do so. Who knew.

"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.

She saw his indecision but didn’t back down. Of course she couldn’t make him give it up if he didn’t want to, but she could do her best to convince him it was the right thing to do if need be. Luckily he let his trust in her give out and handed the phone over without question or protest.

“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?”

"Don't blame me then. I warned you. You know Stark and the kind of links he likes to send around."

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.

“It’s because you still humour him. He stopped sending them to me. He learned better,” Natasha replied with a grin. She didn’t elaborate.

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?

"You show me how to thigh-choke someone and I'll do my worst. Because I'm pretty sure that's why he's so afraid of you."

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."

“It’s almost tempting just to see Stark’s face if you tried that move on him, but if everyone knows how to do it it will lose its effectiveness,” Natasha replied. “You’ll have to find your own way to scare him off.”

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.

"I'd agree with your argument, if you weren't distracting me so thoroughly."

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.

Of course Clint would catch on to what she was doing sooner or later, and thankfully he was still willing to go along and let himself be distracted, despite the public nature of their interactions. Public displays of affection had never been something they indulged in, it wasn’t their style, but there was always an exception and this weekend seemed to be that exception.

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.

"Trying to. Someone keeps on distracting me."

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.

Natasha gave him the most innocent look she could muster despite the wicked glint in her eyes. When he finally released her hand she brushed her fingers just lightly over his before retracting her hand and lifting her coffee cup. Settling back in her seat, she slouched down just slightly, giving Clint even more leeway under the table, and let her gaze wander as she slowly sipped her drink. It never strayed far, though; always returning to Clint’s full lips wrapped around his straw. It felt good, what he was doing with his knee; more like petting than anything, and had she been a cat she might have purred.

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?”

"You mean, except for the purple swimsuit?"

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?"

“Yes, besides that. And the matching handcuffs, though they might be a little more difficult to get through security,” Natasha replied, following Clint from the coffee shop and leading the way to the mall. She was surprised at the number of people there on a Sunday afternoon and regretted stopping at her place first instead of shopping early, but so far Clint seemed okay, entirely focused on his tasks. As long as she could keep him distracted and focused then they could get through this without mishap.

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.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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