FIC for dagschicken: The Year After
A Gift From: wizbey
Type Of Gift: Fic
Title: The Year After
A Gift For: dagschicken
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some language I think, deals with the aftermath of New York but in a cute and fluffy way, super cute fluff inducing sweetness, ugly Christmas sweaters
Summary/Prompt Used: I'm pretty sure I managed to cover them all (using Christmas over Valentines day). Prompts were: Relaxing evening after a mission, driving down a highway, Clint teaches Natasha how to shoot, Valentines/Christmas
Author's Note: So much thanks to spyforaday without whom there might not have been a gift and it certainly would not have looked this good. This is Clint and Natasha's journey from the day after the battle of New York to New Years Eve. Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy :)
The Year After
The day after cognitive recalibration and saving the world AKA New York, Clint would rather have a hangover than the headache
Clint woke up. Well, woke up was a bit of a stretch. One had to be asleep before they could wake up and sleep wasn’t something Clint Barton really did. Not to say that he didn’t like his sleep because he did -- a lot. But there was something about a megalomaniac god rummaging around in your brain that didn’t make for the perfect lullaby.
He had tried to go to sleep, even brushing off Nat’s offer to stay the night once he had been released from medical. His release was more a result of pestering the medical staff enough that they really didn’t want him staying the night rather than a clean bill of health. But, he had gone home and tried to get back to normal. Which was hard because Clint couldn’t figure out what his normal was in the first place.
He entered his apartment without bothering to turn on the lights and grabbed the phone. It had been awhile since he had been home, but that didn’t matter. He would always know off the top of his head the numbers to all the nearby takeout places. He dialed the first one that came to mind. Turns out he’d be having Chinese for dinner. He ordered enough food for three people; he figured leftovers would be a good thing to have in his fridge.
There wasn’t much to do as his place was pretty bare to begin with. He had a shower trying to scrub any remains of Loki off of his skin, trying not to think about the past 24-48 hours. The water was hot and his mind kept wandering (so much so he ended up using the soap he had for Nat). He had just finished getting dressed in pajama pants when the food arrived. He had picked at the food, finding himself not that hungry. He ended up placing most of the food in the fridge for later before climbing into bed.
That’s when he realized this was going to be harder than anticipated. He was completely awake with no desire to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he had visions of the past few days dancing in his head. He had lived through it once; he had no desire to live through it again. Or think about it ever. He laid in bed listening to all the sounds around him knowing that eventually the events of the past few days would take their toll and he would pass out for a few hours. A fact he was waiting for and ready to welcome it when it finally happened.
He opened his eyes, not bothering to stare at the clock. He knew that it was later in the morning but not past 11. Goes to figure that he was a lot more tired then he was willing to admit.
He forced himself to get out of bed and as soon as he sat up he regretted his decision. He wondered if he could just stay in bed all day. Or forever, he wasn’t picky. The pounding in his head was so bad, if Clint didn’t know any better, he would have figured he had tried to drink Nat under the table again. Because that always turns out like this. It takes a lot to get him drunk; it takes even more for Natasha to feel tipsy. She claimed it was because she was Russian and created by the Red Room, Clint always joked that the serum had nothing to do with it. Sometimes he got drunk she so she would stay the night, it was childish, but it was Clint.
Right now was not that. He forced himself into his kitchen and put the kettle on the stove to boil. Coffee was his only thought. It normally helped a hangover; it should help whatever this was. If this was a side effect for saving the world, Clint didn’t want any part of it. He would put in his resignation after his coffee. Could his water boil any slower?
Before he could over think things, Clint took out his cell phone and dialed the only number that mattered right now. As expected, there was no answer, which wasn’t to say that she didn’t know her phone was ringing. Or staring at it waiting for him to leave a message.
“Hey Nat, it’s me. If you want to go drinking, I’ll be at our normal bar.”
Now all he had to do was suffer for the rest of the day with this pounding headache. At least he knew all thoughts were his, and that fact would have to be enough for him.
Clint poured himself his first (of many) cup of coffee. It may be a long day, but coffee never hurt.
First outing for fun where Clint proves that he can indeed loose at darts/pool but only when it includes getting money from poor sad saps as Natasha looks on and laughs
The pounding in his head was beginning to subside, ever so slightly. It was enough that he could push it out of his mind and function normally. Or as normal as he was. Around 8 p.m. he was ready to go out, unsure if Nat was really going to meet him or not. Knowing Nat, she was always up for a drink and therefore would show up.
He got there first, which was unsurprising as he was earlier than their predetermined time. He looked around before heading off towards the pool tables at the back. Some people were regulars at the bar and knew to stay clear of him, but there were plenty of people who didn’t have a clue about what he could really do.
It was easy enough to fake being drunk, just stumble a bit and everyone playing pool suddenly didn’t mind letting the new person in. Easy money they figured, they would be wrong, this was easily one of Clint’s favourite games (the first being how many things can Natasha Romanoff kill you with).
He proceeded to loose the first game. Badly. So badly he had to convince the people to play for more money and they only heisted slightly. Greed almost always won out.
He just smiled as he pocketed the money he had won from the game and turned to walk towards the bar. If she were coming, Nat should be here by now. As soon as he turned around he saw her leaning against a wall. “Here.” She held out a beer to him and he accepted. “I thought we agreed you’d be honest when playing pool and darts.”
“I didn’t cheat.” Clint responded before taking a drink.
“I didn’t mean cheating.” As far as Nat was concerned, if you could cheat and get away with it then the other person wasn’t paying enough attention or they were underestimating you. “I meant being upfront with the fact that you happen to be a very good shot.”
Clint just grinned at her. “But Nat, where’s the fun in that?!”
First Meeting at 3:15 in the morning because when else do master assassins meet, sleep is for the weak. And Natasha Romanoff learns what it takes to be Legolas
It had only been a few weeks after the battle of New York and what Clint referred to as ‘the incident’ and Natasha had barely seen him. There were briefings and meetings with the Avengers that Clint just sat through, no fidgeting, no paper airplanes and no discreet hand gestures or mockery. Nat tried not to look at him like that because he looked so distant, so hopeless, so broken. And it frustrated her because Clint was her partner and she should have been there for him, but she was miles and miles away in Russia doing intel gathering because they were both easy solo missions. Except one clearly wasn’t. Clint hid away in his apartment and Nat let him, knowing if it were reversed she’d want the same. She had to give him space, even if she didn’t want to.
Finally, enough was enough. If Clinton Francis Barton didn’t want to talk to her then so be it. But that didn’t mean she was going to wait around for him to open up (she’d always be there for him and he knew it). She looked at her clock and blinked. 2:30. She had thought it was later than that, clearly she was wrong. She got out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before slipping out of her room and heading down the deserted halls of the Hellicarrier to the gym.
Natasha wasted no time setting up a target to practice hitting. She was about to get a gun when she decided against it. This was all Clint’s fault (wasn’t everything?) so she would do things his way. It might provide a better insight into the way his mind works because she couldn’t seem to figure that out.
It was easy enough to climb up to the rafters of the gym and find a few of the bows Clint had tucked away, just in case. She quickly picked out one of the training bows (she had no desire to pull back something that took 200 pounds of force). There was a quiver with plain arrows tucked inside of it. Natasha slung the quiver over her back and gripped the practice bow in one hand before she dropped down and walked over to her target. She put the quiver down beside her before taking one arrow out. She had never fired a bow before, but how hard could it be? She tried to mimic the stance she had seen Clint take before, which was hard seeing as he didn’t always adhere to true form. She nocked the arrow, pulled back, slowed her breathing and let go. The arrow missed the target and she frowned. It was harder then she thought it would be. Sure it was harder than Clint made it look but she expected that. The arrow had gone too far to the left, which meant she had to aim more to the right.
She grabbed another arrow, nocked it, took her stance again, readjusted her aim, slowed her breathing and let go. She hit the target but not the center. Again and again she took arrows from the quiver nocked them, readjusted her aim over and over and let them go. They all hit the target but not where she wanted. Finally, all twenty of the arrows were embedded somewhere on the target. Natasha walked up to the target and pulled out the arrows one by one, the way she had seen Clint do. It was only when she turned around to walk back to the quiver and start all over again did Natasha realize she was being watched.
Clint walked towards her, meeting her at the quiver, a small smile on his lips. “I didn’t know you could shoot.”
“Neither did I,” Nat answered honestly. Up until a few moments ago she had never fired a bow. She had no need to.
“What made you want to start?” Clint asked genuinely curious. Natasha had never mentioned wanting to learn how to shoot a bow to him before. Or maybe she had and he just wasn’t paying attention.
You. The word didn’t leave Natasha’s lips instead she said, “I thought it might be useful.” Mostly to figure you out, going unsaid.
“It is.” Clint held out the quiver to her and she put in nineteen arrows, keeping one out for her to try again.
Clint just stood back and watched her once again go through her routine. The arrow flew and hit the target like the arrows before it, but still wasn’t near the center, which was an odd sight for the Black Widow. “It’s not a gun, Nat,” he said softly, though in the dead of the night he might as well have been yelling. “You’re over correcting your aim. It requires a gentle touch.”
“Oh, is that what you call needing to pull back with 200 pounds of force? Gentle?” Nat responded as she took her stance yet again.
Clint stood behind her and let her get a good grip on the bow before placing his hands overtop of hers. She could feel him gently pressing into her. She aimed the bow where she felt it should go and pulled back. Clint gently repositioned her aim and pulled back a little more on the bow before letting it go.
The arrow flew straight and hit the target dead center. Wordlessly he passed her another arrow. This time she set up the shot without needing him behind her, though he stayed anyways. Close enough that she knew he was there far enough that he didn’t touch her. Just before she let go, Clint adjusted her aim so that she could see where it needed to be. The arrow left the bow and landed right beside the first arrow. Clint handed her another arrow and this time didn’t bother to correct her aim. The arrow missed the center of the target but managed to be closer than it had been so far.
“It takes practice,” Clint finally said once she had fired the remaining sixteen arrows, walking beside her to go retrieve them.
“I might just have to take up archery,” Nat said as they collected the arrows and walked back so she could start all over again.
“Just don’t get better than me,” Clint said, as Nat got ready to shoot the twenty arrows again.
“I couldn’t do that if I tried,” Nat reassured him before letting another arrow fly. It hit the target just outside the center, teasing her with its placement.
It turns out no words had to be said between them at all. She already knew everything he wanted to tell her, and he knew everything she wasn’t saying to him. They stayed like that until it was their normal training time. She fired arrows and he offered the occasional word of advice. Mostly he just watched her letting the truth sink in. She had taken up his weapon, on an impulse, to better understand him.
They were partners and there was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other.
Christmas which is otherwise known as Clint makes it known to the world that he’s really a six-year-old trapped in the body of a super hero
It was just the two of them for Christmas, just the way it had been for the past couple of years. The only thing that might be different is that Coulson might not stop by this year, as he was busy with his new team. She tried not to dwell on that. They worked for SHIELD and, as such, it was expected that handlers would move around and change. Except they were like a family and families didn’t abandon her. Or at least that’s what she had heard from the lectures Coulson always gave her and Clint. Natasha didn’t have very long to dwell on that before Clint stepped out from his bedroom and into his living room carrying several packages to place under his real Christmas tree.
It was the one time of the year that Clint made sure his apartment was decorated. Sometimes Nat wondered why he didn’t just leave up his Christmas decorations all year long. He wasn’t there most of the time, so it shouldn’t bother him.
It wasn’t long before all of his presents were under the tree with the ones she’d brought along with the ones Coulson had made sure were delivered to Clint’s apartment. There weren’t many gifts under the tree but there were a lot considering that there was only two of them receiving and three givers. Clint handed an oddly shaped package to her. It was wrapped in paper with cartoonish snowmen all over it. And of course a ribbon. She unwrapped it and then stared at her partner, before staring at the bow she held in her hands. Clint picked up the discarded ribbon and placed in on the side of her head near the top, grinning at her.
“Do you like it?”
“I thought you said you didn’t want me to be better than you at this.”
“I’ve seen you shoot.” Clint smirked, “I have nothing to worry about.”
First Long non-mission car ride followed by the first New Years with Tony Stark…Clint wasn’t paid enough for this considering how much Stark made a day
“Pepper invited us for Christmas.” Clint didn’t answer and Natasha took that as a good sign to continue. “So I said yes and I figured we could-”
“Suffer together,” Clint interjected. Nat made a soft humming noise that Clint took as a sign of agreement. “We could do that.”
“You really didn’t have much of a choice,” Nat pointed out, sitting herself on Clint’s counter, a habit she picked up from the archer.
“I like to pretend I did. And you’re going to let me.” He opened up the cupboards before finding what he was looking for. Natasha was over often enough he started keeping some loose leaf tea for her. He picked out one at random without looking at it. “Flying or driving?” He asked handing over the tea, a spoon and a cup for her.
“I figured we could drive. We won’t be allowed to take a quin jet so what’s the point in flying.” She accepted the offerings and opened up a drawer looking for the tea ball she had brought over because Clint had forgotten to get one. When she had pointed that out to him, Clint merely said that she had lots at her place so why couldn’t she just bring one over. Which was what had happened.
“We’re going to drive to Miami,” Clint stated as if he couldn’t believe it.
“Malibu.” Nat corrected, placing the tea filled tea ball in the empty cup and holding it out for Clint to take.
Clint waved her off accepting the cup. “Same thing really.” He filled it with the water that had just finished boiling on the stove and handed it back to her.
“It’s not, but okay. You’d think you’d know your geography better,” Nat said taking out a spoon from the still open drawer beside her.
“I know enough to get by,” Clint stated throwing a squeeze bottle labeled Nat’s tea nectar without looking.
Nat caught it with ease before pouring some agave nectar into her tea. “You’d mix up Pakistan, Uzbekistan and Burma on a labeled map.”
Clint shrugged not hurt at the comment. “I get pointed in a direction or dropped off in a secret location. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s the Amazon or the Siberian dessert.” He grinned at her. “Besides we all don’t stay up late at night memorizing maps.”
“The information is always very handy to have. For conversations and to know where I am. Unlike you, I have an issue looking like an utter idiot.” She sipped her tea and deciding that there was enough agave nectar in it, threw it back at Clint who caught it with just as much ease as she had. One of these days she could hit him.
“Latin,” Clint countered as he put it back in the cupboard, which was bare except Natasha’s tea making supplies and another unlabeled container.
“What about it?” Nat asked watching Clint pour milk that he had been heating up into a cup before pouring it back in the pot and adding sipping chocolate to it. She laughed at his antics.
“How is that useful? How is that ever going to be useful?” Clint asked unfazed at her laughing at him. He was used to it by now. He re-poured the milk mixture (with chocolate) back into his cup and joined Nat sitting on the counter next to her.
“It can be useful,” she said but didn’t give an example. They sat in silence sipping their drinks, not needing to say anything to communicate.
“So when do we leave?” Clint asked, breaking the silence as he finished his sipping chocolate.
“Tonight,” Nat answered. “We can take turns driving. That way we can make it to Stark’s on New Year’s Eve.”
Clint nodded his head and left the kitchen and headed into his room. He smiled when he came back a moment later holding two bags. “Awwwww you cleaned up for me.”
“Someone had to do it, Barton,” Natasha answered. “Knowing you, you’d leave it and when we came back there would be mold in the cups.”
Clint shrugged handing her one of the bags. “It happens once and no one lets you forget it.”
“Wasn’t just once,” Natasha pointed out, causing Clint to look back at her as he headed towards the door. “If you count the numerous food incidents.” Clint grinned in response and held the door open for her. She grabbed the keys and walked into the hallway of the apartment building, locking the door behind them. Clint took the keys from her hands as they walked down to the car, taking the stairs as it was faster, even if Clint was on the twentieth floor.
They threw the bags in the trunk and settled into the car. Nat pulled out the collection of ‘car noise,’ as Clint called it: audio books and two iPods.
“Put on the white iPod,” was Clint’s immediate suggestion.
“I don’t know why we keep it here,” Nat replied as she connected the black ipod.
“I like the music on that one,” Clint replied pulling out of the parking lot.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it music, Barton,” Nat said, selecting shuffle and the sounds of Tchaikovsky filled the car.
Clint snorted. “How much more stereotypical Russian can you get?” Nat’s only response was to punch him in the arm. Hard. He laughed.
“You’re lucky I like this type of music,” Clint stated.
“Oh yeah, and what were you going to do about it if you didn’t?”
“You’d be surprised at what I could do with an ipod.”
She knew first hand what he could do with a projectile. It didn’t matter what the projectile was, the results were still the same. “That was a present.”
“I know.” He had gotten one for her and one for him last Christmas, for the boring bits and down time between missions. “I wouldn’t hesitate.” Clint got ready for his first turn for the long drive ahead while Nat settled in the passenger seat.
They drove for hours, pulling over only when Clint decided he was hungry, which Nat was sure was once an hour. Eventually they decided to switch spots to give Clint a break and, honestly, because Nat was tired of letting someone else drive.
Clint glanced at the speedometer before complaining. “You’re driving too fast.”
Nat let out a small noise. “Really?! Too fast? You normally complain that I drive too slow.”
“Well now you’re driving too fast. So slow down. The later we get there the less time we have to spend with those people.”
“Anti-social.”
“You’re one to talk.” Still Nat slowed the car down a bit and Clint went back to staring out the window. They elapsed in silence, Clint having vetoed listening to Tchaikovsky one more time stating he’d rather be shot in the head. She was too busy concentrating on the road to stare at Clint, but if she had glanced over briefly, Natasha would have seen the smirk on his lips. But she was too busy trying to be a good non-distracted driver, so she missed it.
Clint had twisted in his seat so he could rummage in the back, yet still managed to keep his seatbelt on as the last lecture from Phil was bad enough. The one from Cap had almost been unbearable; something about civic duty and leading by example. Clint really hadn’t been paying much attention to it. Coulson’s he could recite back, but that’s only because Coulson had learned early on if he didn’t quiz Clint about the lecture Clint paid absolutely no attention to it. Even then it could occasionally be iffy.
He managed to find the discarded iPod and put it on, with the volume on the radio turned up loud. He was rewarded with Nat jerking the car hard to the left before staring back so she was driving in a straight line and cursing in a combination of Russian and English.
They had decided a long time ago that on long road trips hotels and the like couldn’t be trusted. So they would sleep when needed and keep on the road. It wasn’t difficult, they were both trained to function on little to no sleep. Clint eventually climbed in the back seat of the moving car so that he could lie down. He had grabbed the blanket and pillow stored under the seats making sure he was as comfortable as he got scrunched up in the back.
Clint was woken up hours later by something hitting him in the head. He picked up the book that he swore Nat only kept in the car to hit him with since he never saw her actually read it, and tossed it to the front. “If you’re tired all you had to do was ask.”
“You were sleeping.” Nat responded as she pulled the car over to the side of the road. Clint was sure ‘you were sleeping’ was code for ‘I really wanted to hit you with the closest projectile’.
Once the car was safely in park, Clint climbed out of the back and into the driver’s seat while Nat climbed in the back and nestled herself under the blanket.
It was a very uneventful, borderline boring drive at 3 in the morning. Nothing exciting happened and Clint began to get the feeling that this was more like a solo mission than a joint road trip. He had put on the classical music playlist on his ipod as not to disrupt Nat with his other ‘music’.
Nat woke up around 6 just as Clint was pulling over for breakfast. She ordered an omelet and tea while Clint ordered steak and two eggs with coffee. They quickly ate the food, paid for it and were back on the road by 6:30. Despite all of Clint’s complaining, neither one of them wanted to be on the road for longer than was absolutely necessary. When they climbed back in the car, Nat sat in the diver’s seat and Clint sat in the passenger seat stating that he wasn’t tired. Nat just shrugged and began to drive.
At one point, she stole a quick glance to her right and smirked. She was currently driving down a stretch of road that had seen very little trees let alone other cars. It had been several hours since they had stopped for breakfast and it looked like Clint was more tired then he thought. Carefully taking the wheel with her knees, she twisted her upper torso so that she could grab the black iPod Clint had tossed in the back. It wasn’t hard for her to reach it, and she took a picture before turning her attention back on the road still devoid of trees. She fiddled with her white ipod until she found an audio book that interested her and let the sounds of the voice fill the car.
A few hours later a strange noise interrupted the audio book and Nat glanced over at Clint. Sure enough it was coming from him. He was making some sort of noise. Nat knew most people referred to that as snoring, she referred to it as Clint being an ass to get on her nerves. He never made noise when he slept. Ever. She took a closer look. His eyes were shut tight meaning he was going to do this for a bit. As she reached over to hit him hard in the head (a little cognitive recalibration never hurt anyone), he grabbed her arm. His eyes were still shut.
“Pull over at the next stop.” Clint said. “I really don’t care where we stop or what we eat. I’m hungry.”
“You don’t know your geography, but you can point out where food is with your eyes closed.” Nat stated shaking her head.
“I know where the important things are. Besides I’m a growing boy I need my energy.” Clint shot back un-phased.
Well, at least she knew that they would never go hungry on missions and road trips. Barton would never let that happen. She chuckled to herself as she thought he’d eat her before he’d let himself starve to death.
She did pull over as instructed to let Clint refuel, as well as refuel the car. They switched once again and Nat climbed in the back for a quick nap. She slept for about two hours before waking up to see where they were. She wasn’t surprised to see the sights of Malibu all around her.
“Morning, Sunshine.” Clint said and she caught the reflection of a grin in the rearview mirror.
“You’re one to talk.” Nat responded as she climbed in the front seat, as she no longer had a use for the back. She selected another audio book, changing it from the classical music that was currently still playing. Clint was odd for sure; heavy metal or classical, no happy medium.
“We could have been at Stark’s over an hour ago,” Natasha pointed out. “And now we’re stuck in traffic.”
“I’d rather be stuck in traffic than with Stark,” Clint pointed out knowing she probably felt the same.
“They’ll be worried about us and we don’t need them to panic,” Natasha responded.
“We’ll never live it down.” Clint made a face to go with his words and Nat nodded.
“Exactly.”
Another 20 minutes later and Clint was reluctantly pulling up Stark’s driveway. After parking the car, the two of them got out to finally stretch their legs and begin their visit.
“Remember,” she teased Clint “be on your best behaviour.”
“I always am.” Clint responded looking hurt.
“Come on, they’re probably waiting for us,” she said in response and began walking towards the front door knowing Clint would follow.
“If he makes one snide comment about us I’ll hit him with the closest projectile.” Clint said matching her pace.
Nat smiled. “So no New Years Eve kiss?” she teased.
“Oh, I never said that.” Clint grinned and leaned down pressing his lips against hers, pleased when her eyes registered the surprise she was probably feeling as he wrapped his arms around her pulled her closer. As they pulled apart he said, “Just don’t expect one in front of people.”
Clint held open the door for her and they entered Stark’s mansion. “SHIELD doesn’t pay me enough for this.”
Nat turned around to face him. “This isn’t a SHIELD mission.”
“It should be.”
“They’re not that bad.”
Just as the words left her mouth Stark bounded into the front foyer wearing an extremely tacky Christmas sweater with decorated trees and Rudolph’s face. Everyone else soon followed. Stark held out two wrapped packages. “I got one for everyone.”
Clint bent down slightly as he accepted his package from Stark so that he could whisper in Nat’s ear. “What were you saying before?” He unwrapped his sweater with enthusiasm and took the bow placing it on the side of Nat’s head, which just reaffirmed the fact that one should never give Clint something that’s wrapped, especially with a bow. He took off his coat and immediately pulled the sweater overtop of his head. “You realize it’s New Year’s Eve right.”
“But we weren’t together for Christmas so I thought we’d do one as a group! There are more presents waiting for you!” Tony grinned gesturing into the next room.
“PRESENTS!” Clint ran off in the direction Tony indicated while Nat just shook her head. He was such a child. But then wasn’t that what she told Loki? Love is for children.
Type Of Gift: Fic
Title: The Year After
A Gift For: dagschicken
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some language I think, deals with the aftermath of New York but in a cute and fluffy way, super cute fluff inducing sweetness, ugly Christmas sweaters
Summary/Prompt Used: I'm pretty sure I managed to cover them all (using Christmas over Valentines day). Prompts were: Relaxing evening after a mission, driving down a highway, Clint teaches Natasha how to shoot, Valentines/Christmas
Author's Note: So much thanks to spyforaday without whom there might not have been a gift and it certainly would not have looked this good. This is Clint and Natasha's journey from the day after the battle of New York to New Years Eve. Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy :)
The Year After
The day after cognitive recalibration and saving the world AKA New York, Clint would rather have a hangover than the headache
Clint woke up. Well, woke up was a bit of a stretch. One had to be asleep before they could wake up and sleep wasn’t something Clint Barton really did. Not to say that he didn’t like his sleep because he did -- a lot. But there was something about a megalomaniac god rummaging around in your brain that didn’t make for the perfect lullaby.
He had tried to go to sleep, even brushing off Nat’s offer to stay the night once he had been released from medical. His release was more a result of pestering the medical staff enough that they really didn’t want him staying the night rather than a clean bill of health. But, he had gone home and tried to get back to normal. Which was hard because Clint couldn’t figure out what his normal was in the first place.
He entered his apartment without bothering to turn on the lights and grabbed the phone. It had been awhile since he had been home, but that didn’t matter. He would always know off the top of his head the numbers to all the nearby takeout places. He dialed the first one that came to mind. Turns out he’d be having Chinese for dinner. He ordered enough food for three people; he figured leftovers would be a good thing to have in his fridge.
There wasn’t much to do as his place was pretty bare to begin with. He had a shower trying to scrub any remains of Loki off of his skin, trying not to think about the past 24-48 hours. The water was hot and his mind kept wandering (so much so he ended up using the soap he had for Nat). He had just finished getting dressed in pajama pants when the food arrived. He had picked at the food, finding himself not that hungry. He ended up placing most of the food in the fridge for later before climbing into bed.
That’s when he realized this was going to be harder than anticipated. He was completely awake with no desire to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he had visions of the past few days dancing in his head. He had lived through it once; he had no desire to live through it again. Or think about it ever. He laid in bed listening to all the sounds around him knowing that eventually the events of the past few days would take their toll and he would pass out for a few hours. A fact he was waiting for and ready to welcome it when it finally happened.
He opened his eyes, not bothering to stare at the clock. He knew that it was later in the morning but not past 11. Goes to figure that he was a lot more tired then he was willing to admit.
He forced himself to get out of bed and as soon as he sat up he regretted his decision. He wondered if he could just stay in bed all day. Or forever, he wasn’t picky. The pounding in his head was so bad, if Clint didn’t know any better, he would have figured he had tried to drink Nat under the table again. Because that always turns out like this. It takes a lot to get him drunk; it takes even more for Natasha to feel tipsy. She claimed it was because she was Russian and created by the Red Room, Clint always joked that the serum had nothing to do with it. Sometimes he got drunk she so she would stay the night, it was childish, but it was Clint.
Right now was not that. He forced himself into his kitchen and put the kettle on the stove to boil. Coffee was his only thought. It normally helped a hangover; it should help whatever this was. If this was a side effect for saving the world, Clint didn’t want any part of it. He would put in his resignation after his coffee. Could his water boil any slower?
Before he could over think things, Clint took out his cell phone and dialed the only number that mattered right now. As expected, there was no answer, which wasn’t to say that she didn’t know her phone was ringing. Or staring at it waiting for him to leave a message.
“Hey Nat, it’s me. If you want to go drinking, I’ll be at our normal bar.”
Now all he had to do was suffer for the rest of the day with this pounding headache. At least he knew all thoughts were his, and that fact would have to be enough for him.
Clint poured himself his first (of many) cup of coffee. It may be a long day, but coffee never hurt.
First outing for fun where Clint proves that he can indeed loose at darts/pool but only when it includes getting money from poor sad saps as Natasha looks on and laughs
The pounding in his head was beginning to subside, ever so slightly. It was enough that he could push it out of his mind and function normally. Or as normal as he was. Around 8 p.m. he was ready to go out, unsure if Nat was really going to meet him or not. Knowing Nat, she was always up for a drink and therefore would show up.
He got there first, which was unsurprising as he was earlier than their predetermined time. He looked around before heading off towards the pool tables at the back. Some people were regulars at the bar and knew to stay clear of him, but there were plenty of people who didn’t have a clue about what he could really do.
It was easy enough to fake being drunk, just stumble a bit and everyone playing pool suddenly didn’t mind letting the new person in. Easy money they figured, they would be wrong, this was easily one of Clint’s favourite games (the first being how many things can Natasha Romanoff kill you with).
He proceeded to loose the first game. Badly. So badly he had to convince the people to play for more money and they only heisted slightly. Greed almost always won out.
He just smiled as he pocketed the money he had won from the game and turned to walk towards the bar. If she were coming, Nat should be here by now. As soon as he turned around he saw her leaning against a wall. “Here.” She held out a beer to him and he accepted. “I thought we agreed you’d be honest when playing pool and darts.”
“I didn’t cheat.” Clint responded before taking a drink.
“I didn’t mean cheating.” As far as Nat was concerned, if you could cheat and get away with it then the other person wasn’t paying enough attention or they were underestimating you. “I meant being upfront with the fact that you happen to be a very good shot.”
Clint just grinned at her. “But Nat, where’s the fun in that?!”
First Meeting at 3:15 in the morning because when else do master assassins meet, sleep is for the weak. And Natasha Romanoff learns what it takes to be Legolas
It had only been a few weeks after the battle of New York and what Clint referred to as ‘the incident’ and Natasha had barely seen him. There were briefings and meetings with the Avengers that Clint just sat through, no fidgeting, no paper airplanes and no discreet hand gestures or mockery. Nat tried not to look at him like that because he looked so distant, so hopeless, so broken. And it frustrated her because Clint was her partner and she should have been there for him, but she was miles and miles away in Russia doing intel gathering because they were both easy solo missions. Except one clearly wasn’t. Clint hid away in his apartment and Nat let him, knowing if it were reversed she’d want the same. She had to give him space, even if she didn’t want to.
Finally, enough was enough. If Clinton Francis Barton didn’t want to talk to her then so be it. But that didn’t mean she was going to wait around for him to open up (she’d always be there for him and he knew it). She looked at her clock and blinked. 2:30. She had thought it was later than that, clearly she was wrong. She got out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before slipping out of her room and heading down the deserted halls of the Hellicarrier to the gym.
Natasha wasted no time setting up a target to practice hitting. She was about to get a gun when she decided against it. This was all Clint’s fault (wasn’t everything?) so she would do things his way. It might provide a better insight into the way his mind works because she couldn’t seem to figure that out.
It was easy enough to climb up to the rafters of the gym and find a few of the bows Clint had tucked away, just in case. She quickly picked out one of the training bows (she had no desire to pull back something that took 200 pounds of force). There was a quiver with plain arrows tucked inside of it. Natasha slung the quiver over her back and gripped the practice bow in one hand before she dropped down and walked over to her target. She put the quiver down beside her before taking one arrow out. She had never fired a bow before, but how hard could it be? She tried to mimic the stance she had seen Clint take before, which was hard seeing as he didn’t always adhere to true form. She nocked the arrow, pulled back, slowed her breathing and let go. The arrow missed the target and she frowned. It was harder then she thought it would be. Sure it was harder than Clint made it look but she expected that. The arrow had gone too far to the left, which meant she had to aim more to the right.
She grabbed another arrow, nocked it, took her stance again, readjusted her aim, slowed her breathing and let go. She hit the target but not the center. Again and again she took arrows from the quiver nocked them, readjusted her aim over and over and let them go. They all hit the target but not where she wanted. Finally, all twenty of the arrows were embedded somewhere on the target. Natasha walked up to the target and pulled out the arrows one by one, the way she had seen Clint do. It was only when she turned around to walk back to the quiver and start all over again did Natasha realize she was being watched.
Clint walked towards her, meeting her at the quiver, a small smile on his lips. “I didn’t know you could shoot.”
“Neither did I,” Nat answered honestly. Up until a few moments ago she had never fired a bow. She had no need to.
“What made you want to start?” Clint asked genuinely curious. Natasha had never mentioned wanting to learn how to shoot a bow to him before. Or maybe she had and he just wasn’t paying attention.
You. The word didn’t leave Natasha’s lips instead she said, “I thought it might be useful.” Mostly to figure you out, going unsaid.
“It is.” Clint held out the quiver to her and she put in nineteen arrows, keeping one out for her to try again.
Clint just stood back and watched her once again go through her routine. The arrow flew and hit the target like the arrows before it, but still wasn’t near the center, which was an odd sight for the Black Widow. “It’s not a gun, Nat,” he said softly, though in the dead of the night he might as well have been yelling. “You’re over correcting your aim. It requires a gentle touch.”
“Oh, is that what you call needing to pull back with 200 pounds of force? Gentle?” Nat responded as she took her stance yet again.
Clint stood behind her and let her get a good grip on the bow before placing his hands overtop of hers. She could feel him gently pressing into her. She aimed the bow where she felt it should go and pulled back. Clint gently repositioned her aim and pulled back a little more on the bow before letting it go.
The arrow flew straight and hit the target dead center. Wordlessly he passed her another arrow. This time she set up the shot without needing him behind her, though he stayed anyways. Close enough that she knew he was there far enough that he didn’t touch her. Just before she let go, Clint adjusted her aim so that she could see where it needed to be. The arrow left the bow and landed right beside the first arrow. Clint handed her another arrow and this time didn’t bother to correct her aim. The arrow missed the center of the target but managed to be closer than it had been so far.
“It takes practice,” Clint finally said once she had fired the remaining sixteen arrows, walking beside her to go retrieve them.
“I might just have to take up archery,” Nat said as they collected the arrows and walked back so she could start all over again.
“Just don’t get better than me,” Clint said, as Nat got ready to shoot the twenty arrows again.
“I couldn’t do that if I tried,” Nat reassured him before letting another arrow fly. It hit the target just outside the center, teasing her with its placement.
It turns out no words had to be said between them at all. She already knew everything he wanted to tell her, and he knew everything she wasn’t saying to him. They stayed like that until it was their normal training time. She fired arrows and he offered the occasional word of advice. Mostly he just watched her letting the truth sink in. She had taken up his weapon, on an impulse, to better understand him.
They were partners and there was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other.
Christmas which is otherwise known as Clint makes it known to the world that he’s really a six-year-old trapped in the body of a super hero
It was just the two of them for Christmas, just the way it had been for the past couple of years. The only thing that might be different is that Coulson might not stop by this year, as he was busy with his new team. She tried not to dwell on that. They worked for SHIELD and, as such, it was expected that handlers would move around and change. Except they were like a family and families didn’t abandon her. Or at least that’s what she had heard from the lectures Coulson always gave her and Clint. Natasha didn’t have very long to dwell on that before Clint stepped out from his bedroom and into his living room carrying several packages to place under his real Christmas tree.
It was the one time of the year that Clint made sure his apartment was decorated. Sometimes Nat wondered why he didn’t just leave up his Christmas decorations all year long. He wasn’t there most of the time, so it shouldn’t bother him.
It wasn’t long before all of his presents were under the tree with the ones she’d brought along with the ones Coulson had made sure were delivered to Clint’s apartment. There weren’t many gifts under the tree but there were a lot considering that there was only two of them receiving and three givers. Clint handed an oddly shaped package to her. It was wrapped in paper with cartoonish snowmen all over it. And of course a ribbon. She unwrapped it and then stared at her partner, before staring at the bow she held in her hands. Clint picked up the discarded ribbon and placed in on the side of her head near the top, grinning at her.
“Do you like it?”
“I thought you said you didn’t want me to be better than you at this.”
“I’ve seen you shoot.” Clint smirked, “I have nothing to worry about.”
First Long non-mission car ride followed by the first New Years with Tony Stark…Clint wasn’t paid enough for this considering how much Stark made a day
“Pepper invited us for Christmas.” Clint didn’t answer and Natasha took that as a good sign to continue. “So I said yes and I figured we could-”
“Suffer together,” Clint interjected. Nat made a soft humming noise that Clint took as a sign of agreement. “We could do that.”
“You really didn’t have much of a choice,” Nat pointed out, sitting herself on Clint’s counter, a habit she picked up from the archer.
“I like to pretend I did. And you’re going to let me.” He opened up the cupboards before finding what he was looking for. Natasha was over often enough he started keeping some loose leaf tea for her. He picked out one at random without looking at it. “Flying or driving?” He asked handing over the tea, a spoon and a cup for her.
“I figured we could drive. We won’t be allowed to take a quin jet so what’s the point in flying.” She accepted the offerings and opened up a drawer looking for the tea ball she had brought over because Clint had forgotten to get one. When she had pointed that out to him, Clint merely said that she had lots at her place so why couldn’t she just bring one over. Which was what had happened.
“We’re going to drive to Miami,” Clint stated as if he couldn’t believe it.
“Malibu.” Nat corrected, placing the tea filled tea ball in the empty cup and holding it out for Clint to take.
Clint waved her off accepting the cup. “Same thing really.” He filled it with the water that had just finished boiling on the stove and handed it back to her.
“It’s not, but okay. You’d think you’d know your geography better,” Nat said taking out a spoon from the still open drawer beside her.
“I know enough to get by,” Clint stated throwing a squeeze bottle labeled Nat’s tea nectar without looking.
Nat caught it with ease before pouring some agave nectar into her tea. “You’d mix up Pakistan, Uzbekistan and Burma on a labeled map.”
Clint shrugged not hurt at the comment. “I get pointed in a direction or dropped off in a secret location. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s the Amazon or the Siberian dessert.” He grinned at her. “Besides we all don’t stay up late at night memorizing maps.”
“The information is always very handy to have. For conversations and to know where I am. Unlike you, I have an issue looking like an utter idiot.” She sipped her tea and deciding that there was enough agave nectar in it, threw it back at Clint who caught it with just as much ease as she had. One of these days she could hit him.
“Latin,” Clint countered as he put it back in the cupboard, which was bare except Natasha’s tea making supplies and another unlabeled container.
“What about it?” Nat asked watching Clint pour milk that he had been heating up into a cup before pouring it back in the pot and adding sipping chocolate to it. She laughed at his antics.
“How is that useful? How is that ever going to be useful?” Clint asked unfazed at her laughing at him. He was used to it by now. He re-poured the milk mixture (with chocolate) back into his cup and joined Nat sitting on the counter next to her.
“It can be useful,” she said but didn’t give an example. They sat in silence sipping their drinks, not needing to say anything to communicate.
“So when do we leave?” Clint asked, breaking the silence as he finished his sipping chocolate.
“Tonight,” Nat answered. “We can take turns driving. That way we can make it to Stark’s on New Year’s Eve.”
Clint nodded his head and left the kitchen and headed into his room. He smiled when he came back a moment later holding two bags. “Awwwww you cleaned up for me.”
“Someone had to do it, Barton,” Natasha answered. “Knowing you, you’d leave it and when we came back there would be mold in the cups.”
Clint shrugged handing her one of the bags. “It happens once and no one lets you forget it.”
“Wasn’t just once,” Natasha pointed out, causing Clint to look back at her as he headed towards the door. “If you count the numerous food incidents.” Clint grinned in response and held the door open for her. She grabbed the keys and walked into the hallway of the apartment building, locking the door behind them. Clint took the keys from her hands as they walked down to the car, taking the stairs as it was faster, even if Clint was on the twentieth floor.
They threw the bags in the trunk and settled into the car. Nat pulled out the collection of ‘car noise,’ as Clint called it: audio books and two iPods.
“Put on the white iPod,” was Clint’s immediate suggestion.
“I don’t know why we keep it here,” Nat replied as she connected the black ipod.
“I like the music on that one,” Clint replied pulling out of the parking lot.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it music, Barton,” Nat said, selecting shuffle and the sounds of Tchaikovsky filled the car.
Clint snorted. “How much more stereotypical Russian can you get?” Nat’s only response was to punch him in the arm. Hard. He laughed.
“You’re lucky I like this type of music,” Clint stated.
“Oh yeah, and what were you going to do about it if you didn’t?”
“You’d be surprised at what I could do with an ipod.”
She knew first hand what he could do with a projectile. It didn’t matter what the projectile was, the results were still the same. “That was a present.”
“I know.” He had gotten one for her and one for him last Christmas, for the boring bits and down time between missions. “I wouldn’t hesitate.” Clint got ready for his first turn for the long drive ahead while Nat settled in the passenger seat.
They drove for hours, pulling over only when Clint decided he was hungry, which Nat was sure was once an hour. Eventually they decided to switch spots to give Clint a break and, honestly, because Nat was tired of letting someone else drive.
Clint glanced at the speedometer before complaining. “You’re driving too fast.”
Nat let out a small noise. “Really?! Too fast? You normally complain that I drive too slow.”
“Well now you’re driving too fast. So slow down. The later we get there the less time we have to spend with those people.”
“Anti-social.”
“You’re one to talk.” Still Nat slowed the car down a bit and Clint went back to staring out the window. They elapsed in silence, Clint having vetoed listening to Tchaikovsky one more time stating he’d rather be shot in the head. She was too busy concentrating on the road to stare at Clint, but if she had glanced over briefly, Natasha would have seen the smirk on his lips. But she was too busy trying to be a good non-distracted driver, so she missed it.
Clint had twisted in his seat so he could rummage in the back, yet still managed to keep his seatbelt on as the last lecture from Phil was bad enough. The one from Cap had almost been unbearable; something about civic duty and leading by example. Clint really hadn’t been paying much attention to it. Coulson’s he could recite back, but that’s only because Coulson had learned early on if he didn’t quiz Clint about the lecture Clint paid absolutely no attention to it. Even then it could occasionally be iffy.
He managed to find the discarded iPod and put it on, with the volume on the radio turned up loud. He was rewarded with Nat jerking the car hard to the left before staring back so she was driving in a straight line and cursing in a combination of Russian and English.
They had decided a long time ago that on long road trips hotels and the like couldn’t be trusted. So they would sleep when needed and keep on the road. It wasn’t difficult, they were both trained to function on little to no sleep. Clint eventually climbed in the back seat of the moving car so that he could lie down. He had grabbed the blanket and pillow stored under the seats making sure he was as comfortable as he got scrunched up in the back.
Clint was woken up hours later by something hitting him in the head. He picked up the book that he swore Nat only kept in the car to hit him with since he never saw her actually read it, and tossed it to the front. “If you’re tired all you had to do was ask.”
“You were sleeping.” Nat responded as she pulled the car over to the side of the road. Clint was sure ‘you were sleeping’ was code for ‘I really wanted to hit you with the closest projectile’.
Once the car was safely in park, Clint climbed out of the back and into the driver’s seat while Nat climbed in the back and nestled herself under the blanket.
It was a very uneventful, borderline boring drive at 3 in the morning. Nothing exciting happened and Clint began to get the feeling that this was more like a solo mission than a joint road trip. He had put on the classical music playlist on his ipod as not to disrupt Nat with his other ‘music’.
Nat woke up around 6 just as Clint was pulling over for breakfast. She ordered an omelet and tea while Clint ordered steak and two eggs with coffee. They quickly ate the food, paid for it and were back on the road by 6:30. Despite all of Clint’s complaining, neither one of them wanted to be on the road for longer than was absolutely necessary. When they climbed back in the car, Nat sat in the diver’s seat and Clint sat in the passenger seat stating that he wasn’t tired. Nat just shrugged and began to drive.
At one point, she stole a quick glance to her right and smirked. She was currently driving down a stretch of road that had seen very little trees let alone other cars. It had been several hours since they had stopped for breakfast and it looked like Clint was more tired then he thought. Carefully taking the wheel with her knees, she twisted her upper torso so that she could grab the black iPod Clint had tossed in the back. It wasn’t hard for her to reach it, and she took a picture before turning her attention back on the road still devoid of trees. She fiddled with her white ipod until she found an audio book that interested her and let the sounds of the voice fill the car.
A few hours later a strange noise interrupted the audio book and Nat glanced over at Clint. Sure enough it was coming from him. He was making some sort of noise. Nat knew most people referred to that as snoring, she referred to it as Clint being an ass to get on her nerves. He never made noise when he slept. Ever. She took a closer look. His eyes were shut tight meaning he was going to do this for a bit. As she reached over to hit him hard in the head (a little cognitive recalibration never hurt anyone), he grabbed her arm. His eyes were still shut.
“Pull over at the next stop.” Clint said. “I really don’t care where we stop or what we eat. I’m hungry.”
“You don’t know your geography, but you can point out where food is with your eyes closed.” Nat stated shaking her head.
“I know where the important things are. Besides I’m a growing boy I need my energy.” Clint shot back un-phased.
Well, at least she knew that they would never go hungry on missions and road trips. Barton would never let that happen. She chuckled to herself as she thought he’d eat her before he’d let himself starve to death.
She did pull over as instructed to let Clint refuel, as well as refuel the car. They switched once again and Nat climbed in the back for a quick nap. She slept for about two hours before waking up to see where they were. She wasn’t surprised to see the sights of Malibu all around her.
“Morning, Sunshine.” Clint said and she caught the reflection of a grin in the rearview mirror.
“You’re one to talk.” Nat responded as she climbed in the front seat, as she no longer had a use for the back. She selected another audio book, changing it from the classical music that was currently still playing. Clint was odd for sure; heavy metal or classical, no happy medium.
“We could have been at Stark’s over an hour ago,” Natasha pointed out. “And now we’re stuck in traffic.”
“I’d rather be stuck in traffic than with Stark,” Clint pointed out knowing she probably felt the same.
“They’ll be worried about us and we don’t need them to panic,” Natasha responded.
“We’ll never live it down.” Clint made a face to go with his words and Nat nodded.
“Exactly.”
Another 20 minutes later and Clint was reluctantly pulling up Stark’s driveway. After parking the car, the two of them got out to finally stretch their legs and begin their visit.
“Remember,” she teased Clint “be on your best behaviour.”
“I always am.” Clint responded looking hurt.
“Come on, they’re probably waiting for us,” she said in response and began walking towards the front door knowing Clint would follow.
“If he makes one snide comment about us I’ll hit him with the closest projectile.” Clint said matching her pace.
Nat smiled. “So no New Years Eve kiss?” she teased.
“Oh, I never said that.” Clint grinned and leaned down pressing his lips against hers, pleased when her eyes registered the surprise she was probably feeling as he wrapped his arms around her pulled her closer. As they pulled apart he said, “Just don’t expect one in front of people.”
Clint held open the door for her and they entered Stark’s mansion. “SHIELD doesn’t pay me enough for this.”
Nat turned around to face him. “This isn’t a SHIELD mission.”
“It should be.”
“They’re not that bad.”
Just as the words left her mouth Stark bounded into the front foyer wearing an extremely tacky Christmas sweater with decorated trees and Rudolph’s face. Everyone else soon followed. Stark held out two wrapped packages. “I got one for everyone.”
Clint bent down slightly as he accepted his package from Stark so that he could whisper in Nat’s ear. “What were you saying before?” He unwrapped his sweater with enthusiasm and took the bow placing it on the side of Nat’s head, which just reaffirmed the fact that one should never give Clint something that’s wrapped, especially with a bow. He took off his coat and immediately pulled the sweater overtop of his head. “You realize it’s New Year’s Eve right.”
“But we weren’t together for Christmas so I thought we’d do one as a group! There are more presents waiting for you!” Tony grinned gesturing into the next room.
“PRESENTS!” Clint ran off in the direction Tony indicated while Nat just shook her head. He was such a child. But then wasn’t that what she told Loki? Love is for children.