study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

"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.

"Well, let's bring those just for making fun of it then."

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.

Clint’s grin was infectious, and Natasha would have probably let him pick even the worst movie just to see him smile like that. Of course she would have complained about it, but she would have allowed it. Besides, it was never about the movies, and sometimes the worse they were the more fun it was.

“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.

Through all the joking, Clint had kind of felt it the whole time that they wouldn't get off so easy with their plans. That e-mail had been pretty clear on the subject. He should have answered one of these incoming calls maybe before Natasha had cut him off very efficiently from headquarters. That hope had been nice, that they would have one fucking whole weekend without any trouble from above.

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.

It doesn’t last, it never lasts, and Natasha isn’t sure which she’s angrier about: that Clint is being treated this way by the people he’s been nothing but loyal to, or that they can’t have one weekend of peace without something trying to tear it apart.

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.

"Probably gonna call us in right away."

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."

Natasha was about to say that it didn’t matter, that they could work it out tonight, then, instead of waiting for tomorrow, but she hesitated. Ultimately this was Clint’s decision, and as long as he didn’t make any completely stupid decisions then she would follow his lead. Swallowing down her anger and that protective feeling she got only in regards to Clint, she let him stop her. Reluctantly she even let him have his phone back, but she watched his face closely, reading his expression for any further deterioration. He obediently ignored his messages, though she had no idea what he was looking into until he finished and elaborated.

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.”

Clint pressed into the touch of her hand thankfully and turned his head to smile at her. Weakly, but it still worked.

"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."

Natasha smiled softly in return. She wasn’t planning on leaving him alone even if he wanted to be, but it was good to know that he didn’t, that he still wanted her around, that he didn’t want to be completely alone. That had to count for something.

“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.

"What, you mean I don't get to try and cook for you?"

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."

“Well, if you insist, but I think you tried and succeeded this morning,” she said. “Though if you do have food in the fridge we should use it up before tomorrow.”

Settling her luggage on the seat on one side of the cab, Natasha sat close to Clint when he climbed in next to her. Just having her close seemed to have a sort of calming effect, and seeing as she enjoyed being near him she saw no downside.

The beginning of the cab ride was made in silence, just the music filling the vehicle’s interior. Natasha recognized the song as well, and the same memories came back to her that Clint was reminiscing over at the moment, so when he finally spoke she knew exactly what he was talking about. That wasn’t to say that his last statement didn’t catch her off guard, though.

It wasn’t something they talked about, life after S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha never really thought about it, maybe because she didn’t think she would ever see it, or maybe because she rarely thought of her future, instead choosing to focus on the present. What would happen when the field was no longer an option? A desk job? Retirement?

“None of us will,” she said, not sure what else to say. So she focused on the first statement. “We have had a lot of good days.” Leaning against his shoulder she smiled.

"Like yesterday", Clint nodded, returning the smile. He pressed his cheek softly against Natasha's forehead and just enjoyed the music and the much lighter thoughts going with it for a while.

The ride home wasn't a long one, fortunately, and soon they were on their way back up the stairs. He couldn't help but grin when they passed the entrance where they had had a very... interesting encounter last night, fingertips shortly grazing the smooth wooden surface.

Only on the way up the restlessness from the mall came back, hesitation for a moment before he opened the door, and the cold stinging of awareness down his spine, anticipation for trouble... But apparently Fury had accepted Natasha's assurance for now and hadn't sent sent a cavalry to bring them in personally.

"Probably stationed someone on one of the roofs nearby", he murmured, not without amusement, dropping his bags after locking the door behind them. "Maybe we should give the poor guy a show later."

That hadn’t been what she had meant, she had been referring to days on the job, but she certainly couldn’t argue. Yesterday had been amazing for so many reasons; she only wished they had been able to continue it into today with no setbacks, but of course that hadn’t worked out. It wasn’t too late to salvage the rest of the weekend, though.

When they reached Clint’s place Natasha couldn’t help but remember the last time they had crossed the threshold to step inside and she glanced at him, the grin on his face evidence that he was remembering the same thing. The trip upstairs wasn’t so rushed and desperate this time, and Clint even hesitated at the door before letting them in, but everything was exactly how they had left it, nothing was amiss.

“Would make for an interesting meeting if he was told to report back everything he saw,” Natasha replied, one corner of her lips quirked upward. Removing her coat, she quickly checked her phone and found a reply from Fury. “He has agreed to the meeting, but not until ten. He had to exercise some control, of course.”

In all honesty Natasha greatly respected Nick Fury, and very much liked the man and she knew the feeling was mutual. He wasn’t just some faceless commander, he actually cared about his agents and went to bat for them, and she knew he would see the logic to this plan and agree to it. He would stand up for Clint, would agree to it because he would see it was what was best. She was as certain as she could be that he would let them go.

Turning to face Clint she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms lightly around his neck before kissing him, slowly and deeply; just because she could, because it had been long enough since she’d kissed him proper, because she wanted him to feel her complete confidence that everything would work out.

The sudden change of subject was a very welcome one, after Clint had just been in the mood for another not so friendly comment in Fury's direction. He somehow forgot of that pretty quickly with Natasha back in his arms, doing her best to let him forget the difficulties of the afternoon.

She still tasted of sugar and chocolate and he chuckled against her lips, slipping his tongue playfully between hers to catch more of that enticing note. It reminded him of the careless little bantering in the coffee shop, the minutes of relaxing and normalcy in between the usual loads concerning their work.

He decided, it was much better to hold on to that for the evening, forget the rest until they'd have to face it again in the morning. Natasha deserved better than having to deal with his brooding all evening.

Carefully, to not make a mess of her hair again, he wrapped his hand around her neck to hold her close, rest his forehead against hers with closed eyes to try and let the new weight slip off his shoulders. She was there for him, even when he didn't even know he much he needed her in certain moments. That was all he could ask for right now. His thumb softly caressed over the softness of her lips, her cheek, slightly reddened from the cold, while he searched for words, found none and let it be. Enough talk for the moment.

He managed it to maneuver them to the sofa without letting go off her and pull her down with him, to just enjoy this for a while... Just holding her. Returning with her to a place that could be a home for both of them, whenever she liked it, with all the bullshit staying outside.

Natasha was very skilled in manipulation and seduction, but she never used those skills against Clint. This was different, this wasn’t to get information or anything malicious; this was to get his mind off of everything, to remind him of everything he had, and she knew he knew exactly what she was doing. He could have easily brushed her off but he accepted the comfort and distraction she offered gladly, and even seemed to appreciate her efforts.

She leaned into his touch, opening her eyes to look at him so close. His eyes were closed but he didn’t need them to see her, to trace the planes of her face with the rough pad of his thumb. She knew that, like her, he had it memorized.

She had removed her jacket but she still wore her boots and his scarf when he walked them over to the sofa. Laying down with him she curled up much as she had at one point last evening, her face buried against his chest and the rest of her body pressed close against him. She said nothing, just listened to the sound of his breathing, his heartbeat. She liked this space, this old house that Clint had saved and was remodeling. It didn’t matter where they were, though, because it was in his arms that she was home.

For a long while there was silence, just the occasional quiet sound of the house in the background, wood creaking, pipes gargling, while the warmth settled in both of them, burned away the troubles for the moment.

From time to time Clint's lips wandered over Natasha's forehead, and his hand had somehow magically slipped under her pants when he looked next time. It laid there unmoving, fingertips playing with the thin hem of her panties without any further motive.

It was only the soft touch of her skin that he craved, the flood of sweet associations washing over his mind whenever he could feel her close like that, forcing out the coldness.

When it threatened to get just a little too hot, he softly plucked on the ends of her scarf, pulling it away, grinning when his eyes fell on certain marks underneath. He couldn't resist placing another kiss there, the ends of the fabric still loosely wrapped around his hands and her shoulders, holding her close to him.

"We really need to think of a trick to cover these things for summer. Or you have to knock me out everytime I get too enthusiastic."

Natasha kept one arm loosely around Clint’s waist and only smiled softly at the occasional kisses and touches. She was comfortable like this, comfortable with him, and the fact that they would wile away their time together silently, unmoving, just enjoying the presence and comfort that each other provided spoke volumes. She had never had this before, had never wanted it, but now she didn’t want to live without it.

When Clint slowly removed the scarf and commented on his handiwork, Natasha tilted her head back so she could look at him, her eyebrows raised and a faint smirk on her lips.

“I could use make-up if I really wanted to hide them,” she said. She knew quite well how to hide any unfavourable marks from prying eyes, all part of her old training. “Or you could just start leaving them places nobody else will see...”

The boots were getting rather uncomfortable, but she didn’t want to move to take them off. Fortunately she was more than sufficiently flexible. Bringing one leg up and stretching it straight past Clint’s shoulder, she was able to reach behind his head to undo the zipper and remove the boot, tossing it unceremoniously over the back of the sofa. 

"You know, I could just have helped you with that."

Clint laughed quietly and already reached down to help her out of her second boot. But he sure as hell wasn't complaining, not when he had her leg so comfortably in reach for a few teasing little bites.

"Well, I better start mapping out some other spots then, right? So I can decide on my favorite until it gets too warm for scarfs."

He pulled her a little closer to him and lowered his head for a kiss, gently drawing her lower lip between his teeth as if already starting to search out these places he spoke of.

“I know,” Natasha replied, but said no more. It had been more fun showing off, and it had made him laugh, so all in all a good choice, not that she argued when Clint moved to help her with the other boot. Sliding her leg back down, she let it rest over Clint’s hip and returned her arm to around his waist.

“Hmm, well you do have a few months,” she said. “But I know how you love to be thorough...”

Smiling against Clint’s lips when he kissed her in an exploratory, experimental way, Natasha tightened her leg around him slightly. “I think that one might be a little obvious,” she whispered. 

"Patience. Just getting warmed up."

Clint gave her lip another playful bite and rested his head on his am then again, hand still playing with the scarf idly resting between them. For the moment he just smiled at her, pulling her leg closer around his body, hips pressing into each other.

"And just for the records, I love watching you stretch. It's fucking hot, just in case I never told you. And reminds me, I have to do more workout."

He grimaced a little. Artistic stuff wasn't something he had needed much in the last years mostly spent as a sniper. Which was no excuse for getting lazy.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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