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THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND SIXTEEN WILL OPEN ON TUESDAY THE 25TH.
ROUND FIFTEEN
closing at 5000 comments
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DISCUSSION POST
PROMPT FORMATTING:
Alphabetize pairings. They will be archived that way!
LIST OF REQUIRED WARNINGS: ableism, abuse, bestiality, bullying, ( Read more... )
"Evening, Agent Romanoff," Happy greeted a little faintly, in a way that made Peter wonder how the woman had stopped the car. The woman didn't reply, but Clint's arrow was already back in his quiver and his bow was folded across his lap again. She closed the door behind her.
"What were you thinking?" the woman demanded as the limo pulled away, her hands moving in the effortless way Phil signed at home. She was still crouching in the empty space of floor inside the door.
Clint shook his head, but didn't bother signing when he replied; "I was thinking Phil needed a ride home, with Lola in the shop." Peter thought he maybe sounded tired. It was partly reassuring to think that maybe Clint was coming off the adrenaline just as hard as he was. "I didn't know anything else was going on, Tasha," he continued. "I promise."
She glared at him severely for a beat more, long enough for Peter to realise that she was super-model gorgeous and also covered with dust and what looked like blood, then nodded, obviously taking his word for it. She turned on Peter straight afterwards, and he found himself cringing back at her sudden and avid grin. "Hi!" she said, "I'm your Aunt Tasha." She signed at him as well, and Peter tried to remember her sign-name, but couldn't pick it out with 'Aunt' in there somewhere as well. She finished by thrusting a hand under his nose. He shook it politely, trying to remember if Clint had ever mentioned a sister.
They didn't look much alike, really. She was... flawless, striking, sexy... His mind had wandered and he forced himself to pull back his hand. And Clint was... Well... Clint.
Clint was shaking his head, with a; "Really, Natasha?"
"Hmm... Hi? I'm Peter," Peter replied, trying to cover up his fluster, and flushed with embarrassment when he realised she probably knew exactly who he was.
She didn't say anything about that, though. She just gave him a serious look and said; "Thanks for taking care of Clint today, Peter. I know it's not what you signed up for."
Peter didn't remember signing up for anything, and he was fairly sure Clint hadn't needed his help, but watching Natasha sign was mesmerising even if he only knew a handful of words in ASL, so he just nodded. Natasha patted him on the arm and then took the seat nearest the door, looking out of the front of the limo past Happy's head.
"So Clint," Happy called from the front, "How does the Challenger drive?"
Clint and Natasha signed back and forth a couple of times and Peter was beginning to think they might have both missed Happy's question - or be rudely ignoring him - when Clint replied; "Pretty good when there wasn't an alien Mayfly in the windscreen," with a sigh. "All that work..."
"Sounded like Mr. Stark had some plans to get it off SHIELD for you, once they've cleared it." Happy added.
Natasha's hands were still moving, and Peter guessed she was translating. She added out-loud; "You know Tony's going to give it back to you jet-powered and filled with an AI, right?"
"I'll make sure to thank him when we get to the Tower. How's he been?" Clint asked, "Since he gave up the suit."
Natasha shot him a sharp look, and Peter tensed, but Clint was looking Happy's way. "You're not supposed to know..." She stopped and shook her head, relaxing. "Worse. Pepper had some fairly unreasonable expectations, but I think everyone was a bit disappointed."
Clint shrugged, but he looked pretty pleased with himself. "You'd think a house full of Avengers and all their tech demands would be enough to keep any genius engineer busy."
"How many side projects did you pick up this year?" she asked in reply, eyebrow raised.
"Okay, point taken," Clint conceded.
Peter briefly choked on his own tongue as all the facts of the day finally descended on his brain in the right order and caused a pile-up.
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