study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

They didn’t get a lot of time off together, at least not enough to make a trip away worthwhile, so for this one weekend they decided to stay in the city and play tourist for the day.

They had started with a walk through Central Park before grabbing an early lunch at one of the city’s many street vendors and then wandering through the American Museum of Natural history. Natasha found the Hall of Minerals fascinating while Clint had gotten a kick out of all the dinosaur bones. They both enjoyed laying under the big blue whale with all the normal people.

Afterwards they went to a nice restaurant for supper, blending into the crowd of normal couples as best they could and Natasha actually forgot if she was playing a role or being herself as they finished their wine and shared their desserts.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely as they left the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. Nearby a busker played guitar and sang with surprising melody and soul, barely seeming to notice as people threw change into his open case, so caught up was he in his music. 

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Glancing over at Clint when he almost choked on his food, Natasha looked back at the screen then raised an eyebrow at him. He was a red blooded male, she wasn’t surprised that he would enjoy that scene as much as everyone else seemed to, except he seemed to be enjoying it a little too much and in an entirely different way. He was laughing.

Definitely a keeper, he was.

“Because when I do that,” she replied, gesturing toward the screen with her chopsticks, “you’re not the target.” She tried to keep the amused expression off of her face, but it was impossible when he was grinning at her like that. “Are you suggesting we forget our current training and subscribe to the double-oh-seven school of spy work?” It would actually be pretty entertaining to try to emulate these films sometime. She feigned thoughtfulness. “I suppose we could start with that scene, since there will be beaches where we’re going, right?”

"Many very beautiful ones. And hey, come on, working for M can't be half as bad as answering to Fury."

Still chuckling, Clint put his empty plate away and sipped at his wine instead. God, he definitely needed a vacation. Working for anyone but these asshats in the council sounded definitely too tempting right now.

Fortunately he was soon enough distracted by the inevitable love scene on screen. Well, that was one setting he definitely planned on copying on their holidays... Among other things. He got lost a little, imagining both of them in that little house, relaxing over some good food while they watched the waves roll below. His hand had sneaked its way on Natasha's leg again purely on instinct, harmlessly caressing, and a little he actually felt like they were already gone.

“Hmm, I suppose you have a point,” she conceded, watching Clint set aside his empty plate before returning to her own food. In Natasha’s opinion Fury was rarely the problem. It was true that she never fully trusted him, but then she never fully trusted anyone besides Clint, but Fury did have their backs more often than not. The problem was the Council. He could only stand up to them so often.

If every day of their vacation ended the way Bond’s did then Natasha certainly wouldn’t argue, and knowing the two of them they likely would. Since finally admitting that they wanted to give this relationship thing a try, and with so much time spent apart or busy due to their jobs, they were pretty insatiable when they got a bit of time like this, completely alone and free to do whatever they wanted. It didn’t mean they couldn’t spend the day together innocently, but why deny themselves when night fell and they were alone?

Natasha smirked a little to herself when Clint caressed her leg, but she neither pushed him away nor encouraged him. She simply finished off her food and set her own plate aside before snatching up the wine glass and settling back against the sofa. “I wonder if Bond ever meets a woman who isn’t willing to fuck him after knowing him for thirty seconds,” she mused, resting her head on Clint’s shoulder.

"Poor guy. Probably would jump the next cliff."

Clint wrapped his arm around her waist and sneaked his hand into the pocket of her - his - sweater to rest it closer against her belly.

From tropical islands it was pretty soon to ice dunes on the screen and he couldn't help but admire the shots of eternal snow, even though he knew that wouldn't be his preferred destination right now.

"Iceland... That's one place I've never ended up in", he murmured. "Looks beautiful. If I find clothes that actually keep me warm for longer than few hours... They say it's beautiful on horseback."

Well, he'd probably have to take a few lessons before because the last time he had been on horse, had been Budapest... But it definitely sounded like one of these things you wanted to do before you grew old.

“Mm, yes. It would be quite an identity crisis for him. A harsh blow, and not the kind he is used to,” Natasha replied, grinning against the rim of her wine glass. When Clint slipped his arm around her she snuggled closer to his side, enjoying the closeness and the warmth that radiated off of him.

While Clint was all about hot sand, Natasha loved the snow. It was one of the differences they both respected in each other, and she knew that if this vacation worked out well for them that next time (because there would be a next time) Clint would easily concede to somewhere colder if that was what she wanted.

“It is,” she confirmed. “It’s not as cold there as people think, nor as snowy.”

"Good to know. Guess we could just wander and ride around for a while when the next chance comes up", Clint mused. "Cut off from everything, just silence and nature..."

His fingertips gently caressed her stomach through the thin layer of fabric between them, and the smile, though clearly melancholic, never left his lips.

"It feels good, you know... just talking about all this."

His lips shortly grazed her temple before he pulled her closer to his side, once more drowning in her warmth and nearness.

"Just being normal from time to time..."

“I like the sound of that,” Natasha said, taking another sip of wine. Just traveling around with Clint, removed from the rest of the world... it was something she could get used to, at least for a little while. Sometimes Natasha enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the city, but more often than not the preferred to be removed, someone secluded and quiet where she could relax and be alone. She could make an exception for Clint, though, as the more time she spent with him the more she thought being completely alone wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

The more Clint spoke the more Natasha wondered how temporary he wanted this vacation to be. She hoped that time away would help him heal, help him find some closure so maybe he could stop blaming himself at every turn. She hoped some time off woul make him realise his true purpose an make him want to return and get back to what they both knew he was good at, but what if it had the opposite effect? What if he never wanted to go back?

“We definitely don’t get enough time off,” she agreed, restraining herself from asking the question of if that was what he wanted, a normal life.

"Guess I'll just have to stand up for myself more. Before New Mexico, I haven't been on a vacation for years. Can't go on like that. I'm tired, Tash'."

Clint let his lips rest against her temple again, longer this time. With the beloved scent of her hair in his nose and her smooth skin against his it was easier to talk about these things, to talk about weaknesses, knowing there was someone who didn't judge him for it.

"I know where I can do most good, so that's something I won't quit if they don't kick me out. But I can't only live for this anymore. Yesterday and today... We didn't even do anything fancy, yet I haven't felt that alive in quite a long time."

Draining her glass, Natasha set it on the other side of the sofa, not wanting to move enough to reach the coffee table. She knew Clint's work habits, could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd had more than two days off together since she'd known him. He had given S.H.I.E.L.D. everything, and it was about time he took his life back, if only for a while.

"I know," she said softly. Resting her hand on his thigh she rubbed his leg comfortingly.

They had fallen into a trap, a routine, and it was hard to get out of, but could she really blame him for wanting more? He wasn't like her, he hadn't been trained from an early age to do as he was told and never want anything for himself. It was all she knew, whether it was for the Red Room or for S.H.I.E.L.D., all she had ever known was how to follow orders and live for her job.

Clint was right, though. This weekend had changed things, not just between them, but maybe everything. Maybe it was time she stepped out of her own comfort zone. Maybe it was time she tried to discover what it was really like to live.

"This weekend meant a lot to me too," she admitted quietly, tilting her head to look up at him. "Clint, I... I've never done normal. I'm not sure I know how."

"You're doing pretty great so far."

Clint put his own glass away and turned all the way to her, softly placing his hand on her cheek.

"Who defines what's normal? As long as you're only doing what makes you feel good and comfortable with me, that's all I can ask for. I don't think, either of us would be really good at conventional, to be honest. Just... try to relax. Feel. Enjoy. That's all I ever wish from you, okay? Being happy with me."

When Clint moved away enough to turn to face her, Natasha moved her glass from the couch to the table and turned toward him as well. She leaned into his touch, her own hand going back to his leg and her eyes never leaving his for a moment.

Maybe she didn’t really understand normal, but she did know what felt good; it was something else Clint had taught her over the years. Her life had never been about what she wanted or what she enjoyed until he had stepped into it and shown her that she could make her own choices. He had helped her discover who she really was, and for that she would always owe him.

“I am happy with you,” she said, smiling softly at him. “There is nowhere else I would rather be than here with you.”

Clint didn't really have anything wise to say to that, so he just leaned over and kissed her instead, short but with the greatest tenderness he was capable of.

Now that he was so close, he couldn't resist wiping that little rest of sauce from the corner of Natasha's mouth, with a quiet chuckle.

"My caveman manners are intoxicating, I think. I kind of like that."

The kiss was the perfect answer, and Natasha closed her eyes and melted into his touch. When he pulled away and wiped a bit of sauce from her face that she hadn’t noticed was there, she caught his hand between hers.

“You just like the idea of rubbing off on me,” she said, smirking a little before bringing his thumb to her lips so she could suck the spot of sauce from his skin. Of course she did so in the most deliberate way possible, though her face was a mask of innocence when she was done. “We’re missing the film...”

"Yep, we do. Can't have that."

Grinning, Clint swept her into his arms to lie back comfortably on the sofa. No one said, a little spooning during a nice movie wasn't for master assassins, right? Perfect chance for him to have his face close to her neck and place a few kisses there from time to time while his hands gently caressed her stomach and side. Of course it was complete coincidence that on screen Bond and Rosamund Pike were just getting in on in the middle of a frozen room.

"Nice interior", he remarked, feigning seriousness.

Natasha giggled a little with Clint suddenly pulled her down to lay with him, but she certainly put up no struggle. Settling back against him, she let her fingers drift lazily along his arm, relishing in the warmth and comfort his body offered.

“It is certainly interesting,” she replied. It was a place Clint would despise for the cold, and one Natasha didn’t see any draw to either. Being outside in the cold was one thing, and something she often enjoyed, but inside she found it less than desirable. “At least they found a vigorous activity to keep them warm.”

Much like she and Clint had gotten up to last night, actually...

"I can tell from experience, it works."

It came out more gentle and thankful than teasing, the memory of the last night's crisis still very present. Clint rested his chin on Natasha's shoulder and held her just a little closer to him, silently letting her know how glad he was that she had been there. They didn't often cuddle like that, mostly because he liked it better to watch her face, see what was going on in her eyes usually. She felt small and soft in his arms like that, swallowed by his broader frame, and still she was the one always so much stronger than him. He couldn't help but wonder if he would ever achieve such a firm mental balance. Somehow he doubted it.

He didn't let a treacherous sigh come past his lips but forced his mind on the evolving battle on the screen instead, chuckling from time to time at especially silly move. The fancy vehicles that couldn't be missing in any Bond movie were much more interesting.

"I want one", he commented, grinning, when Bond had his race against his villain with some kind of snow jet ski. "Could have used one of these in Greenland couple of years ago. It's a miracle I'm not missing certain body parts after a few weeks out there."

When Clint settled in and pulled her closer, Natasha threaded her fingers through his and held his arm around her. She didn’t do normal, didn’t know how to, or that’s what she had thought, but this felt natural and it felt good, just being with Clint like this. Just letting herself be. Maybe she could do normal if she let herself relax and just enjoy it.

“That would have been a terrible shame,” she replied, bringing his hand up to her lips and softly kissing his knuckles. “I like all your body parts right where they are.” Lowering his hand, she watched the movie a moment longer before speaking again. “We should take a jet ski excursion. I’m sure there will be some place that we can rent a couple.”

"Does that mean I get to see you do fancy backflips and stuff?"

Clint couldn't help but tease her a little. And maybe challenge. It was said, there was no woman on Earth who could physically do that particular stunt, but he was pretty sure, Natasha would prove everyone wrong.

"Pretty sure I'd have to rip your clothes off on the next lonely beach we get to after that", he murmured into her ear, one fingertip reaching out just to brush the underside of her breasts.

Natasha chuckled at the question. Jet skiing, unfortunately, was not among one of her skills, but she felt that if she practiced she could probably do tricks of some sort. She was excellent at operating a snowmobile; it had made it easier on missions during winter in Russia in her former life. That had to give her an advantage starting out. “I suppose we will have to try and see.”

Racing and showing off for each other over clear waters sounded wonderful, as did the picture he painted of what would happen afterwards. It didn’t take much to get her imagination going. “Mm, in that case I really hope I can pull off something fancy.”

"Knew I could persuade you."

Clint's tongue flickered over her earlobe quickly, then he leaned back a little again, pretending to be fully concentrating on the movie.

"You know, after seeing all this, I'm seriously convinced, we just need to leave country to find a better job."

He switched into a nearly flawless British accent effortlessly, trying his best to stay serious while his fingertips kept on stroking that certain sensitive area.

"Weather can't be worse on that island than here, really. You know, I could totally do that cool superspy thing. And you'd be the most badass Bond girl ever."

Natasha’s body twitched at Clint’s little teasing gesture, and she bit her lip to keep from grinning too wide. He settled back again, and she didn’t believe for a moment that he had his full attention on the screen, especially with his hand still stroking her, almost but not quite absently.

It took all of Natasha’s skills at keeping a straight face to not laugh when Clint started trying to emulate Bond, accent and all. It wasn’t that the accent was bad, it was actually really good, but the idea of him pulling off the cheesy lines like in this film was laughable.

“Da, comrade,” Natasha replied, slipping just as flawlessly back into the Russian accent she had been taught to banish almost two decades ago, though playing it up as they would in the film. A spy who couldn’t hide her true nationality was of little use to anyone. “I would put the rest to shame.”

God, he loved her accent. Natasha sometimes had understandable issues with her Nationality, due to her past, but when Clint thought of Russia, there weren't only death and violence on his mind. He wasn't a big fan of the weather but they had had many adventures there, shared many nights of comfort and getting closer and days in places of unspeakable beauty.

Russia, that still in a way was home, it was where her story had begun and through all the horrors that she had gone through, that he wished he could take away from her somehow, without all that... She wouldn't be here now. And without her, he wouldn't be either, for many reasons.

He locked away these much too serious thoughts carefully, glad that she didn't look at him right now, and gave her shoulder a quick light bite instead.

"Good thing about you doing that Bond girl thing? I certainly won't have to seduce you, we're already through that part..."

Russia was her homeland, it was where she had been born and where she had grown up, but it would never be home to Natasha. She had never had a home before, not truly, not in the most meaningful sense of the word. She had resided many places, and by the dictionary she had had many homes, but to Natasha a home was the place a person belonged, felt safe and comfortable, and could truly be themselves. By that definition this was home, right there in Clint’s arms.

That wasn’t to say that Russia wouldn’t always hold a small place in her heart. It had taken a long time to deprogram herself, but some things never entirely went away.

“Mm, that is a good thing. I would not be so easily seduced,” Natasha replied, still with the accent. “But if you were to try, just how would you seduce me, Agent Double-Oh Barton?”

She knew how he could seduce her and how very easily he could do so, but she wanted to know how he would do so in the role of Bond with all his cheesy lines and bravado.

"What, you mean it isn't enough if I come out of the water all wet and manly and smile at you? Seems I'm losing my touch."

Clint leaned back with a perfect pout and put one arm under his head while the other rested casually on Natasha's upper thigh.

"How about if I tell you I can do target-shooting on horseback in full gallop and long distance and trained pole-dancing as a teenager? That sexy enough for you?"

Turning her head to look back at him, Natasha kept a serious expression on her face but her eyes were dancing with amusement. He had a certain smile that had the ability to make her weak in the knees, but she was supposed to be the one Bond girl that didn’t fall for him right away.

She couldn’t help but laugh the picture he painted next, though. She wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Although she had never seen him shoot from horseback, she had seen him hit an enemy with no problem from a moving vehicle, and knowing he grew up in the circus, who knew what sort of training they did there?

“Hmm, I am not sure,” she said. “I might need a... demonstration.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Profile

Natasha Romanoff | The Black Widow

September 2020

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
		1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30

Page Summary

study_in_scarlet - (no subject)

Style Credit

Base style: Abstractia by chiming
Theme: Pulse by chiming

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Page generated Jun. 22nd, 2025 06:07 am