[fic] Friendship is Sharing
Title: Friendship is Sharing
Rating: PG
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Avengers
Pairings: Clint/Natasha
Warnings: None.
Summary: It turns out that caring for two small birds does not leave you with much alone time.
Prompt: memory, crystal, volcano, dragon, frame, and a quote I’m ignoring because it doesn’t fit.
Word Count: 1000
Author’s Notes: It was the one-year anniversary of be-compromised getting started and crazy4orcas gave some prompts. Given that this entire series is her fault, I figured there needed to be a Zoologists AU entry to celebrate. This is kind of an outtake after some other stuff I have to write, but have not yet, but it should be easy to pick up. It follows these stories: #1- Talking Like Peter Lorre, #1.5- Bacon Bits, #2- Swimming Like Peter Lorre and The Unexpected Struggles, Lack of Sleep, and Fishy Smell Joys of Parenthood.
“My room smells like bird poop,” Clint said when Natasha opened the door to her quarters.
Life at SHIELD was an experiment in never being alone. Even with Tony’s modifications to the base, it took a lot of energy to heat giant spaces, so every room was-cramped was being generous, Natasha felt. Every had a roommate and no matter how many letters you had after your name, you shared an office, and chances were, the only time you were ever alone was in the bathroom, but there was no guarantee.
It was why Dr. Potts had decided not to join her husband, though it did leave the rest of them to deal with a hyperactive, needy Tony. Luckily, he could usually be distracted by something that needed fixing before somebody tried to murder him or frame him for murder.
Thanks to odd numbers, Clint hadn’t had a roommate. Now he had two, and Natasha noticed that said roommates meant they spent more time together than ever.
“Yes,” she said. “They’re birds. They poop.”
“A lot. They poop a lot, is what you’re trying to say.” Clint flopped onto her bunk and picked up the crystal she’d used to mark her place in her book. “Ooh, toasty.”
She’d just gotten her spot warm. “You’re in my spot.”
Clint sighed and climbed to his feet. “Refusing to share your body-heat makes you seem selfish.”
She pounced on her warm spot and burrowed in with the blankets up to her neck.
Clint pouted. “You sure I can’t join you?”
Natasha gave him a look: the bunks were so narrow that she’d nearly fallen out of hers three times the first night. She had no idea how Thor or Steve fit, or how Steve managed to pile the Howling Commandos on top of him (though Darcy had been trying to get a picture, mostly, Natasha suspected, to confirm whether or not their stalwart captain was a boxers or a briefs man).
“I used to be in the circus,” Clint said. “I could make it work.”
She moved over a little, bending her legs at the knees so that Clint could sit on that half of the bunk. He wasted no time kicking off his shoes and sticking his socked feet under her blanket, hugging his knees to his chest as he leaned back against the wall behind him. It didn’t look comfortable in the slightest, but he didn’t seem bothered.
“The circus?” she asked. “Really?”
Clint raised a hand in a scout’s oath. “Swear to God, Dr. Romanoff. The circus. Oh, the memories I could tell you about.”
“You’ve lived a strange life, Dr. Barton.”
“I can’t argue with that.” He wiggled his toes, and Natasha squirmed when it tickled the backs of her knees.
“Who’s watching the kids?” she asked.
“Darcy,” Clint said, and they shared a grin. The minute Clint had brought in two eggs had been the exact point in time that Darcy Lewis stopped hating Antarctica. Though Clint insisted Natasha was the chicks’ mother, it was really Darcy fussing day in and day out, cooing and clucking at the two chicks. They’d pecked at her camera and had nipped at her hands, but it didn’t stop Darcy from getting in close to incubator. The SHIELD blog was swimming with pictures of gray fuzz and beaks that called themselves chinstrap penguins.
They called the babies Crimson and Clover. Natasha didn’t understand the reference, but it was apparently a song and it had won the poll on the website. Clint had pushed for Dashell and Lillian. Natasha had liked that choice, but she wasn’t ever going to admit that.
“She’s taking the night shift, so I’m footloose and fancy-free. Gonna let me have the spare corner of your mattress, Doc?” Clint raised a suggestive eyebrow.
“Going to let me read my book in peace?”
“Probably not.” Clint scooted over to get a better look at the paperback. His brow crinkled as he took in the dragon flying over a volcano on the cover. “Wait, are you reading science fiction? I thought you were a noir girl.”
“I have many tastes.”
“Yeah, and apparently some of them are questionable.”
“I could count you as among my questionable preferences,” Natasha pointed out.
Clint snatched the book from her hand, startling her-he really was quick when he wanted to be. “Hey!” she said, lunging and letting cold air into her cocoon, damn him. “I was reading that!”
Clint stuck his tongue out at her. “You called me questionable.”
“Stealing my book proves my point, you heretic.” Natasha attacked the base of his ribcage with her fingers, where she knew he’d be vulnerable. Indeed, Clint squirmed away from her-or tried to, but they were in the bottom bunk, and he was pinned between the wall and her dresser. He kept the book out of her reach for a few seconds through sheer ingenuity, but she’d learned how to fight dirty in grad school.
“Uncle!” he said, trying to pull his ear from her grasp. “Ow. You’re mean.”
“Gimme.” Natasha hugged the book to her chest. “You should know better.”
“I can’t believe you’re seriously going to ignore me for a book.”
“Then be more entertaining than the book.” Natasha gave him a challenging look.
It took a second for his grin to blossom. “When’s Jane due back?”
“Not for hours.”
“Wanna watch a movie, then? I think I’ve still got a couple you haven’t seen yet.”
“Nope,” Natasha said, and started to wrap a hand in the front of his shirt to yank him to her. He moved forward at the same time, though, overbalancing and crashing down on top of her so that her back hit the mattress, hard. “Oof!”
“My bad!” Clint lifted his head, panicked. “Sorry-”
Natasha started laughing. “If you wanted to be on top, you could have just said so.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Clint said, and when he finally kissed her, she felt the smile on his lips.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Avengers
Pairings: Clint/Natasha
Warnings: None.
Summary: It turns out that caring for two small birds does not leave you with much alone time.
Prompt: memory, crystal, volcano, dragon, frame, and a quote I’m ignoring because it doesn’t fit.
Word Count: 1000
Author’s Notes: It was the one-year anniversary of be-compromised getting started and crazy4orcas gave some prompts. Given that this entire series is her fault, I figured there needed to be a Zoologists AU entry to celebrate. This is kind of an outtake after some other stuff I have to write, but have not yet, but it should be easy to pick up. It follows these stories: #1- Talking Like Peter Lorre, #1.5- Bacon Bits, #2- Swimming Like Peter Lorre and The Unexpected Struggles, Lack of Sleep, and Fishy Smell Joys of Parenthood.
“My room smells like bird poop,” Clint said when Natasha opened the door to her quarters.
Life at SHIELD was an experiment in never being alone. Even with Tony’s modifications to the base, it took a lot of energy to heat giant spaces, so every room was-cramped was being generous, Natasha felt. Every had a roommate and no matter how many letters you had after your name, you shared an office, and chances were, the only time you were ever alone was in the bathroom, but there was no guarantee.
It was why Dr. Potts had decided not to join her husband, though it did leave the rest of them to deal with a hyperactive, needy Tony. Luckily, he could usually be distracted by something that needed fixing before somebody tried to murder him or frame him for murder.
Thanks to odd numbers, Clint hadn’t had a roommate. Now he had two, and Natasha noticed that said roommates meant they spent more time together than ever.
“Yes,” she said. “They’re birds. They poop.”
“A lot. They poop a lot, is what you’re trying to say.” Clint flopped onto her bunk and picked up the crystal she’d used to mark her place in her book. “Ooh, toasty.”
She’d just gotten her spot warm. “You’re in my spot.”
Clint sighed and climbed to his feet. “Refusing to share your body-heat makes you seem selfish.”
She pounced on her warm spot and burrowed in with the blankets up to her neck.
Clint pouted. “You sure I can’t join you?”
Natasha gave him a look: the bunks were so narrow that she’d nearly fallen out of hers three times the first night. She had no idea how Thor or Steve fit, or how Steve managed to pile the Howling Commandos on top of him (though Darcy had been trying to get a picture, mostly, Natasha suspected, to confirm whether or not their stalwart captain was a boxers or a briefs man).
“I used to be in the circus,” Clint said. “I could make it work.”
She moved over a little, bending her legs at the knees so that Clint could sit on that half of the bunk. He wasted no time kicking off his shoes and sticking his socked feet under her blanket, hugging his knees to his chest as he leaned back against the wall behind him. It didn’t look comfortable in the slightest, but he didn’t seem bothered.
“The circus?” she asked. “Really?”
Clint raised a hand in a scout’s oath. “Swear to God, Dr. Romanoff. The circus. Oh, the memories I could tell you about.”
“You’ve lived a strange life, Dr. Barton.”
“I can’t argue with that.” He wiggled his toes, and Natasha squirmed when it tickled the backs of her knees.
“Who’s watching the kids?” she asked.
“Darcy,” Clint said, and they shared a grin. The minute Clint had brought in two eggs had been the exact point in time that Darcy Lewis stopped hating Antarctica. Though Clint insisted Natasha was the chicks’ mother, it was really Darcy fussing day in and day out, cooing and clucking at the two chicks. They’d pecked at her camera and had nipped at her hands, but it didn’t stop Darcy from getting in close to incubator. The SHIELD blog was swimming with pictures of gray fuzz and beaks that called themselves chinstrap penguins.
They called the babies Crimson and Clover. Natasha didn’t understand the reference, but it was apparently a song and it had won the poll on the website. Clint had pushed for Dashell and Lillian. Natasha had liked that choice, but she wasn’t ever going to admit that.
“She’s taking the night shift, so I’m footloose and fancy-free. Gonna let me have the spare corner of your mattress, Doc?” Clint raised a suggestive eyebrow.
“Going to let me read my book in peace?”
“Probably not.” Clint scooted over to get a better look at the paperback. His brow crinkled as he took in the dragon flying over a volcano on the cover. “Wait, are you reading science fiction? I thought you were a noir girl.”
“I have many tastes.”
“Yeah, and apparently some of them are questionable.”
“I could count you as among my questionable preferences,” Natasha pointed out.
Clint snatched the book from her hand, startling her-he really was quick when he wanted to be. “Hey!” she said, lunging and letting cold air into her cocoon, damn him. “I was reading that!”
Clint stuck his tongue out at her. “You called me questionable.”
“Stealing my book proves my point, you heretic.” Natasha attacked the base of his ribcage with her fingers, where she knew he’d be vulnerable. Indeed, Clint squirmed away from her-or tried to, but they were in the bottom bunk, and he was pinned between the wall and her dresser. He kept the book out of her reach for a few seconds through sheer ingenuity, but she’d learned how to fight dirty in grad school.
“Uncle!” he said, trying to pull his ear from her grasp. “Ow. You’re mean.”
“Gimme.” Natasha hugged the book to her chest. “You should know better.”
“I can’t believe you’re seriously going to ignore me for a book.”
“Then be more entertaining than the book.” Natasha gave him a challenging look.
It took a second for his grin to blossom. “When’s Jane due back?”
“Not for hours.”
“Wanna watch a movie, then? I think I’ve still got a couple you haven’t seen yet.”
“Nope,” Natasha said, and started to wrap a hand in the front of his shirt to yank him to her. He moved forward at the same time, though, overbalancing and crashing down on top of her so that her back hit the mattress, hard. “Oof!”
“My bad!” Clint lifted his head, panicked. “Sorry-”
Natasha started laughing. “If you wanted to be on top, you could have just said so.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Clint said, and when he finally kissed her, she felt the smile on his lips.