Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseanuna_81August 8 2012, 21:11:09 UTC
I fear that I can't possibly give you entire thing that I'm working on in time for this promptathon, but I can give you a part of it.
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*
Steve Rogers' restaurant has an odd name. It's called The Shield. It's an old fashioned place where you can eat food that's not necessarily healthy, but it's good for the soul. Clint orders more that they can possibly eat; along with chocolate cake that's one of restaurant's specialties. Peggy Carter, Steve's fiancee, brings two huge pieces. The table is covered with food and it all smells wonderfully. They eat in silence first. Clint is good in unobtrusive observing, while Natalie eats slowly. He starts talking only when some color has reached her cheeks again.
“That was pretty bad,” he says, leaving his words vague on purpose.
“It was,” she agrees and looks at him briefly.
“I know Coulson for, hm,” he pauses and thinks. “Five years now. He's a good guy. One who does his job like it's supposed to be done,” he says.
“He seems like a decent enough man,” she says. There's something about the way she speaks, the way she forms her every single sentence. Every single word feels measured and calculated, and as someone with hearing problems, Clint tends to rely on other sources of information. Those other sources are giving him confusing signals.
“Yeah,” he affirms. “Well, I remember when he first came to work here. He worked in a small town. Few robberies and things like that. He puked the first time around too.”
“It wasn't my first time,” she says. Clint looks at her hands, how slowly they move as she's cutting her food and eating. He considers this, tries to guess her age, but he can't be sure. She is younger than him, but she's not inexperienced.
“I know what pushes my buttons,” he says. She looks up. “People who beat kids,” he points to his hearing aids. She's looking at him with a question in her eyes, like she's trying to connect everything she's seen and knows and make sense of what he's telling her. Honesty is his policy, so he continues. “My father did that to me when I was four,” he swallows, not sure how this is happening so quickly with her, but something in her eyes tugs at his heart. “I remember that,” he says and his voice catches a little. “I remember not hearing after that.”
She just looks at him, mutely. Several emotions cross her face, and she's not quick enough to cover the pain, he notices it. So it's not detachment that's the problem, he thinks.
“What do you do?” she asks somewhat clinically, but he can see that she's still shaken up.
“I feel angry,” he says. “Every time. I think how I'd beat them, but obviously, I don't do it. I just let myself feel it and not come in the way of my work.”
She nods. They continue eating in silence for some time. Then she turns to face the window pane. It's raining outside and the weather is appropriately gloomy.
“Emotional abuse,” she says quietly, and Clint starts wondering, but doesn't pry. He just watches her, knowing she's aware of being watched.
A few days later he stays late in the office. He searches nationwide database for Natalie Rushman, but doesn't come up with anything that matches her.
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseanuna_81August 8 2012, 21:12:38 UTC
*
The months pass and Clint slowly pieces the puzzle. Natalie Rushman isn't cold; she is afraid of becoming too attached. She isn't rigid, she insists doing things by the book, because she doesn't want to overlook anything. She insists on every single possibility being used before concluding that nothing, indeed, can be done. She has a strong aversion towards colleagues who neglect their clients, and she's not afraid to call them up on it, which is why some people don't like her. She knows all of their cases by heart, just like Clint does, and she can definitely be relied upon.
Getting to know her is more difficult and slower. She appreciates Clint's easy going manner, the way he doesn't judge her and doesn't try to correct her. He does insist on conversations, even idle conversations, on having coffee together during a break, or discussing things like movies or music, even though she rolls her eyes at him. At first it's hard, and it's almost as if her lips are pried shut, so Clint spends a lot of time having monologues, but slowly she becomes more talkative. Sometimes she fondly mocks his taste, calls him old fashioned, and he doesn't mind, especially if he learns tidbits about her. She likes classical literature and ballet, and she is pleased when she discovers that he can hold an intelligent conversation about those topics (or religion, world economy, architecture, you name it; Clint is a walking encyclopedia of random knowledge and oddities) just as well as he can talk about car engines.
He tells her he's been raised by foster parents, that he's changed four foster families until he was lucky to come into hands of the Cutlers. She listens to his story quietly, like she always listens to important things. Then, unexpectedly, after a day they both deemed a success, she tells him she's been adopted.
He asks her if she remembers it, and she nods. Do you remember your parents, he asks, and she smiles, with her eyes shiny and wet. Clint feels how something in his chest tightens; it's a familiar feeling, it's something he can understand and relate to. He wants to hold her hand, but she doesn't move, sitting across from him in a quiet restaurant. He holds her with his gaze instead.
Soon after that they share a drink in a nice club after work and don't feel like social workers, (those people who constantly deal with delinquents and their parents). She tells him about a modern art exhibition she's been to, and they've laugh about Clint's car, which constantly needs something fixed.
“Nah, I'm not giving up on it,” he says, feeling light and content in his skin. “It's old, but it can still run just fine. I'm not going to replace something that works, just for the whim of it,” he says and takes a sip of his beer. Her smile saddens a little, and she moves her bright red hair behind her ear.
“Is that how you think of everything? Don't replace it, if it can run?”
He sighs and looks at her thoughtfully. “Well, not necessarily. I like old things. This shirt, for instance,” he says.
“I suppose it used to be purple in its heyday?” she teases lightly.
“Yeah, but what matters is that I've taken this shirt to all my big travels. I like old stuff that means something.”
“Oh, God,” she half laughs, “and that car was your first car, right?”
“No,” he laughs along and basks in the glow of her smile. “But it is the first car I've bought on my own,” he says.
“I'm impressed,” she toasts with her glass of wine, holds his smile for a moment longer, but then it slowly fades. “I have old things,” she begins, “but I'm not as good at holding onto them.”
“I'm not sure I understand,” he says. It feels like an entry to a different conversation, and judging by her face, the way she studies him, he's not wrong.
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseanuna_81August 8 2012, 21:13:04 UTC
“My name isn't Natalie Rushman,” she says and looks at him cautiously, like she's bracing for his reaction. At this point he's aware that she has secrets, and that there are reasons for her being so guarded and cautious. He's aware that she's daring a risk right now, and his heart beats faster as she lowers her eyes to her hands, and then looks up at him again. “It's Natasha. Natasha Romanova. Or Romanoff, as my father preferred it.”
He looks. There's something vaguely familiar about her last name, but he pushes that thought at the back of his mind as more of her puzzle unravels.
“Natasha,” he says, testing her name on his tongue. He likes how it feels. It casts a different light on her, and it's somehow good for her; her striking eyes and red hair. “I like it. It suits you,” he says.
“Thank you,” she answers.
He isn't certain how to proceed. He knows that each and every bit of knowledge he's been given was earned; knows that she'd decided to tell him this.
“Did you change it?” he asks and she nods. “It sounds Russian,” is next what comes to his mind and it sounds dumb, but he doesn't want to hurt her or ask something she's not ready for.
“It is,” she says, and after that they're both silent.
“Natasha,” he repeats a bit later, after another sip of beer. He smiles and she smiles in return; and he realizes he's been allowed beyond that wall of hers.
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseanuna_81August 9 2012, 08:32:03 UTC
Steve's real food FTW! I do mention in another part of the story that Tony is a new co -owner of the restaurant. Tony and Steve often bicker about menus and how things should work, and in the meantime Pepper and Peggy enjoy cocktails. *G*
Clint is all about respecting who Natasha is, where her boundaries are. He's patient, he knocks, once, twice, he waits. And she likes this, likes to know that he's out there, waiting, and when she's ready to open a door, he'll walk in. It's a lovely dynamic, I heart them so much. :)
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseashen_keyAugust 8 2012, 23:33:28 UTC
First up - YAY STEVE AND PEGGY! *coughs*
That aside, I really do like this; they are in different contexts, but they are still them with all of those differences. And I like it how he made the first move of opening up and sharing confidences, but how everything she revealed was her own measured, thought-out choice.
I really, really like it, and can't wait to see where else it goes.
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseanuna_81August 9 2012, 08:27:56 UTC
Heee, everyone is in this. Even Loki. They all show up, but I mixed up their roles a little bit, you'll see.
The thing is, when I started working on this, AU!Clint was just there. You know, a complete person with his history, his likes and dislikes. I could probably describe his wardrobe and his kitchen, stuff like that. Thus the story started out with his POV. Then I realized neither me or Clint knew much about Natasha, so we both had to get to know her. (And it's sort of weird because I usually struggle more with Clint.) I think I had to rebuild them both, and everyone else around this prompt, help them fit these different circumstances while still (hopefully) remaining the same characters. Everything with Natasha is so measured, and she's like that in here as well, and Clint respects that. He just respects her pace, and who she is and he accepts her - I hope that comes through/will come through the rest of the story, once it's done. :)
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abusejacedesbffAugust 9 2012, 01:27:08 UTC
Well done! I've always been fascinated with social work. I took a test in college that said I should be either a teacher (which I am) or a manager in the arts (which I was and continue to be) or a social worker, particularly one with a heavy case load. Um, okay... LOL It's the only other thing that I've had any interest in trying, anyway. 'Cause you know, we public servants are clearly in it for the money. :-)
You said this is a glimpse into a bigger world. I really hope we get to see more!!
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseanuna_81August 9 2012, 07:24:03 UTC
Yup, a glimpse. ;) The thing is, this AU!Clint walked in into my head like a formed person, but we had to get to know Natasha together. And it goes slowly. So I guess you'll get lots of Clint thoughts on social work and Natasha and other stuff and it's fun so far. They're refusing to let me stop writing. *G*
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abusejacedesbffAugust 12 2012, 23:04:59 UTC
Catching up on my e-mails! :-) What did you teach??? I teach high school drama and also have middle school drama, 6th grade language arts and Gifted Research. Yay, public servants! \o/
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseinkvoicesAugust 9 2012, 23:04:53 UTC
I was making my way through my inbox and I saw this, I read it, and I thought it was great and came over here to comment, and then realised that there were two more parts. I did a little flail dance :D
The world-building in this is fantastic, from the look into the lives of social workers, to Steve (and Peggy, woo Peggy!) with his restaurant and good ole fashioned food. I love how we find out about Natasha through Clint and how open he is without pushing, and how whilst I can why that would make him great at his job I can also see, because of his thoughts, how Natasha is also great at it. Clint appreciating old things <3 And Natasha slowly letting him in, learning to trust <3 Just I LOVE this :D And I'm intrigued about Natasha's background and the mystery of her name sounding familiar to Clint, and I'm interested in Clint's background too and I think it's brilliant that you've worked in him having hearing aids. Clint is so, what, settled? in this. So sure of himself and who he is. It's wonderful. (Especially with all the angst over identity issues we get post-Tessarct with Clint, which is great, but it's lovely to see this.)
I'm REALLY looking forward to seeing more of this when you get there :D
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseanuna_81August 10 2012, 14:25:55 UTC
Oh, I'm so happy that you like this! So, so happy! the thing is, I usually struggle more with Clint's voice. But in this story he kind of walked through the door, and I just knew all about him - who he is and what he is like, what he thinks about his work, how he does his work. He is what a social worker should be, and there are more details about his job through the rest of this. But, we both had to figure out Natasha, who starts out as a mystery; she even starts out with a different name, and of course, there are reasons for that. I just want to do it slowly, and do it right.
This version of Clint is really settled in his own skin. He had a better childhood than canon - Clint did, and that does make a difference, there's more warmth to him, and obviously, he's not a hired assassin here. But he still needs to be Clint Barton, and I hope I kept the essence of his personality; I hope they're both recognizable here.
I'm so excited to show you the rest and hear your thoughts! The things that I'm doing.... oh man!
Re: Fic: Old things, AU, PG - 13, warnings: child abuseanuna_81August 17 2012, 19:32:17 UTC
Thank you! This has been (and still is) not-easy work to do. In order to fulfill the prompt I had to restructure them, yet, they still have to be who they are. The world building is fun, though, and Clint in this is wonderful (he's wonderful anywhere, hehe). I'm so glad you enjoyed it!!
*
*
Steve Rogers' restaurant has an odd name. It's called The Shield. It's an old fashioned place where you can eat food that's not necessarily healthy, but it's good for the soul. Clint orders more that they can possibly eat; along with chocolate cake that's one of restaurant's specialties. Peggy Carter, Steve's fiancee, brings two huge pieces. The table is covered with food and it all smells wonderfully. They eat in silence first. Clint is good in unobtrusive observing, while Natalie eats slowly. He starts talking only when some color has reached her cheeks again.
“That was pretty bad,” he says, leaving his words vague on purpose.
“It was,” she agrees and looks at him briefly.
“I know Coulson for, hm,” he pauses and thinks. “Five years now. He's a good guy. One who does his job like it's supposed to be done,” he says.
“He seems like a decent enough man,” she says. There's something about the way she speaks, the way she forms her every single sentence. Every single word feels measured and calculated, and as someone with hearing problems, Clint tends to rely on other sources of information. Those other sources are giving him confusing signals.
“Yeah,” he affirms. “Well, I remember when he first came to work here. He worked in a small town. Few robberies and things like that. He puked the first time around too.”
“It wasn't my first time,” she says. Clint looks at her hands, how slowly they move as she's cutting her food and eating. He considers this, tries to guess her age, but he can't be sure. She is younger than him, but she's not inexperienced.
“I know what pushes my buttons,” he says. She looks up. “People who beat kids,” he points to his hearing aids. She's looking at him with a question in her eyes, like she's trying to connect everything she's seen and knows and make sense of what he's telling her. Honesty is his policy, so he continues. “My father did that to me when I was four,” he swallows, not sure how this is happening so quickly with her, but something in her eyes tugs at his heart. “I remember that,” he says and his voice catches a little. “I remember not hearing after that.”
She just looks at him, mutely. Several emotions cross her face, and she's not quick enough to cover the pain, he notices it. So it's not detachment that's the problem, he thinks.
“What do you do?” she asks somewhat clinically, but he can see that she's still shaken up.
“I feel angry,” he says. “Every time. I think how I'd beat them, but obviously, I don't do it. I just let myself feel it and not come in the way of my work.”
She nods. They continue eating in silence for some time. Then she turns to face the window pane. It's raining outside and the weather is appropriately gloomy.
“Emotional abuse,” she says quietly, and Clint starts wondering, but doesn't pry. He just watches her, knowing she's aware of being watched.
A few days later he stays late in the office. He searches nationwide database for Natalie Rushman, but doesn't come up with anything that matches her.
Reply
The months pass and Clint slowly pieces the puzzle. Natalie Rushman isn't cold; she is afraid of becoming too attached. She isn't rigid, she insists doing things by the book, because she doesn't want to overlook anything. She insists on every single possibility being used before concluding that nothing, indeed, can be done. She has a strong aversion towards colleagues who neglect their clients, and she's not afraid to call them up on it, which is why some people don't like her. She knows all of their cases by heart, just like Clint does, and she can definitely be relied upon.
Getting to know her is more difficult and slower. She appreciates Clint's easy going manner, the way he doesn't judge her and doesn't try to correct her. He does insist on conversations, even idle conversations, on having coffee together during a break, or discussing things like movies or music, even though she rolls her eyes at him. At first it's hard, and it's almost as if her lips are pried shut, so Clint spends a lot of time having monologues, but slowly she becomes more talkative. Sometimes she fondly mocks his taste, calls him old fashioned, and he doesn't mind, especially if he learns tidbits about her. She likes classical literature and ballet, and she is pleased when she discovers that he can hold an intelligent conversation about those topics (or religion, world economy, architecture, you name it; Clint is a walking encyclopedia of random knowledge and oddities) just as well as he can talk about car engines.
He tells her he's been raised by foster parents, that he's changed four foster families until he was lucky to come into hands of the Cutlers. She listens to his story quietly, like she always listens to important things. Then, unexpectedly, after a day they both deemed a success, she tells him she's been adopted.
He asks her if she remembers it, and she nods. Do you remember your parents, he asks, and she smiles, with her eyes shiny and wet. Clint feels how something in his chest tightens; it's a familiar feeling, it's something he can understand and relate to. He wants to hold her hand, but she doesn't move, sitting across from him in a quiet restaurant. He holds her with his gaze instead.
Soon after that they share a drink in a nice club after work and don't feel like social workers, (those people who constantly deal with delinquents and their parents). She tells him about a modern art exhibition she's been to, and they've laugh about Clint's car, which constantly needs something fixed.
“Nah, I'm not giving up on it,” he says, feeling light and content in his skin. “It's old, but it can still run just fine. I'm not going to replace something that works, just for the whim of it,” he says and takes a sip of his beer. Her smile saddens a little, and she moves her bright red hair behind her ear.
“Is that how you think of everything? Don't replace it, if it can run?”
He sighs and looks at her thoughtfully. “Well, not necessarily. I like old things. This shirt, for instance,” he says.
“I suppose it used to be purple in its heyday?” she teases lightly.
“Yeah, but what matters is that I've taken this shirt to all my big travels. I like old stuff that means something.”
“Oh, God,” she half laughs, “and that car was your first car, right?”
“No,” he laughs along and basks in the glow of her smile. “But it is the first car I've bought on my own,” he says.
“I'm impressed,” she toasts with her glass of wine, holds his smile for a moment longer, but then it slowly fades. “I have old things,” she begins, “but I'm not as good at holding onto them.”
“I'm not sure I understand,” he says. It feels like an entry to a different conversation, and judging by her face, the way she studies him, he's not wrong.
Reply
He looks. There's something vaguely familiar about her last name, but he pushes that thought at the back of his mind as more of her puzzle unravels.
“Natasha,” he says, testing her name on his tongue. He likes how it feels. It casts a different light on her, and it's somehow good for her; her striking eyes and red hair. “I like it. It suits you,” he says.
“Thank you,” she answers.
He isn't certain how to proceed. He knows that each and every bit of knowledge he's been given was earned; knows that she'd decided to tell him this.
“Did you change it?” he asks and she nods. “It sounds Russian,” is next what comes to his mind and it sounds dumb, but he doesn't want to hurt her or ask something she's not ready for.
“It is,” she says, and after that they're both silent.
“Natasha,” he repeats a bit later, after another sip of beer. He smiles and she smiles in return; and he realizes he's been allowed beyond that wall of hers.
*
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Also cameo Steve and Peggy were wonderful. Of course Steve would run a restaurant, and it would have REAL food.
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Clint is all about respecting who Natasha is, where her boundaries are. He's patient, he knocks, once, twice, he waits. And she likes this, likes to know that he's out there, waiting, and when she's ready to open a door, he'll walk in. It's a lovely dynamic, I heart them so much. :)
Reply
That aside, I really do like this; they are in different contexts, but they are still them with all of those differences. And I like it how he made the first move of opening up and sharing confidences, but how everything she revealed was her own measured, thought-out choice.
I really, really like it, and can't wait to see where else it goes.
Reply
The thing is, when I started working on this, AU!Clint was just there. You know, a complete person with his history, his likes and dislikes. I could probably describe his wardrobe and his kitchen, stuff like that. Thus the story started out with his POV. Then I realized neither me or Clint knew much about Natasha, so we both had to get to know her. (And it's sort of weird because I usually struggle more with Clint.) I think I had to rebuild them both, and everyone else around this prompt, help them fit these different circumstances while still (hopefully) remaining the same characters. Everything with Natasha is so measured, and she's like that in here as well, and Clint respects that. He just respects her pace, and who she is and he accepts her - I hope that comes through/will come through the rest of the story, once it's done. :)
Reply
You said this is a glimpse into a bigger world. I really hope we get to see more!!
Reply
Teacher! I used to be a teacher!!! *jumps of joy*
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The world-building in this is fantastic, from the look into the lives of social workers, to Steve (and Peggy, woo Peggy!) with his restaurant and good ole fashioned food. I love how we find out about Natasha through Clint and how open he is without pushing, and how whilst I can why that would make him great at his job I can also see, because of his thoughts, how Natasha is also great at it. Clint appreciating old things <3 And Natasha slowly letting him in, learning to trust <3 Just I LOVE this :D And I'm intrigued about Natasha's background and the mystery of her name sounding familiar to Clint, and I'm interested in Clint's background too and I think it's brilliant that you've worked in him having hearing aids. Clint is so, what, settled? in this. So sure of himself and who he is. It's wonderful. (Especially with all the angst over identity issues we get post-Tessarct with Clint, which is great, but it's lovely to see this.)
I'm REALLY looking forward to seeing more of this when you get there :D
Reply
This version of Clint is really settled in his own skin. He had a better childhood than canon - Clint did, and that does make a difference, there's more warmth to him, and obviously, he's not a hired assassin here. But he still needs to be Clint Barton, and I hope I kept the essence of his personality; I hope they're both recognizable here.
I'm so excited to show you the rest and hear your thoughts! The things that I'm doing.... oh man!
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