Bits and Bobs and WHOO BOY
What? Write Camp NaNo things because you're on vacation and you have TIME to be writing. And you had a decent idea and mapped it out and did work on it before hand and you still can't be bothered?
And then you finally got to go see Captain America, probably only because your sister, who is the only one who knows the way to the movie theater in this city of trees and highways, wanted to go see Divergent for the third time? And you came home at 10pm and pulled out your laptop? And now you have to go to bed because your nephews get up early and you're two hours ahead of your own schedule as it is?
And you come up with this WIP?????? AND YOU NEED TO GO BACK BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU MISSED IMPORTANT STUFF!!?!?!!!?????
“What's her name?” Clint asked, smoothing a hand over the hood of the car Natasha had just driven up to a stop in front of his building. She could tell he was trying so valiantly to hold in his derision at the make, model and - yes, let's be honest - color that she had to laugh. When he narrowed his eyes at her, she only smirked. “Just a question.”
“You’re so predictable. Most cars don’t have names.”
“For your information, all cars have names. It’s the ignorant owners that don’t take the time to find them out that are the problem with this country.”
He’d taken his hand off the hood, trying to distance himself from the object. She’d seen him do it often enough that she didn’t need to ask him if he liked it or not. It didn’t take a rocket scientist or, for that matter, any other sort to know that Clint disliked the car she’d picked out for just tootling around the city. It was black, for one. It wasn’t twenty years old, for the next. There was probably a longer list but that didn’t matter. She hadn’t gotten this particular car with him in mind. He was never going to get to drive in.
“It’s a loaner,” she assured him. “Sitwell’s letting me borrow it for a couple of days. Maggie will never have to know that you dared look at another.”
“Only looked,” he hastened to add, as if his car really might get jealous of this intruder. “You planning on staying for awhile?”
“I’m here for the evening. Is that going to be a problem?”
She watching Clint carefully through her lashes, wondering if his “roommate” was going to be around or not. While she and Kate Bishop had met on a few instances, they hadn’t exactly been the sort of moments where people grew into fast friends. They had an uneasy truce, the two of them. Kate silently promised not to let Clint get too hurt physically and Natasha had given her word, out loud, that she wouldn’t break Clint’s heart too badly.
This was one of those times that Natasha really hoped the young girl wasn’t around because she couldn’t actually promise more than a few hours. Their meetings had been so few and far between that Natasha wasn’t sure if she could call herself more than a one-night stand, stopping by for a good time before heading back to work.
The raw hurt on Clint’s face was enough to make her close her eyes. “I can leave,” she whispered, wishing she could make more time for the man she considered her best friend. Her only friend, really. They couldn’t promise each other more than that, as much as she sometimes wished she could.
“Don’t.”
She felt the keys slip from her fingers but she didn’t dare look up until he put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Why don’t you let me take you somewhere nice, Tasha? I’m pretty sure I can handle a car like this. We won’t tell Maggie. It’ll be fine.”
“But-” she started to protest before he silenced her with a deep kiss. When he let her up for air, she sagged against him, enjoying the fact that he didn’t mind the theatrics. “Fine. Somewhere nice it is. Just so you know, I don’t mind BedStuy.”
“Yeah, but the people here get intimidated when they see a flashy car like this and a pretty girl hanging on my arm. They’ll think I’m dealing drugs and I don’t really want to get all the attention. I’ve already gotten more than my fair share, thank you very much.”
“Stark come knocking?”
“You just can’t say no to the guy when he has a jet overhead, ready to whoosh you off to places unknown for fun and frivolity. I only remember half of that weekend.” He massaged his jaw, pushing and pulling it as if testing it out. “And none of that half was any fun.”
Natasha laughed but only because she’d been fortunate enough to be able to turn Stark down on the last few missions he’d begged her help with. Working with Stark was about as much fun as working with him, which is why she’d kept her SHIELD gear after Clint had decided to turn his in and go Avengering full time.
Those kind of logistics made theirs a long distance relationship, if there ever was one. Add to that a precocious teenager and a lifetime of secrets to run from. It made for awkward first moments whenever they did find the time to be together.
Clint didn’t hold a grudge for long, though. As they zipped through the streets of New York, on their way to some upper crust part of town that had a tall hotel they could climb a few times until the first rays of dawn pushed her back toward DC, Natasha unrolled her window and stuck out her hand, letting the wind current take it up and down a few times.
“You still logging in enough hours in the sky to keep your license current?”
He looked at her over his darkened glasses and she wondered, not for the first time, just how much those things accentuated his already keen eyesight. “You need extraction?”
“Always good to keep my options open.”
“Isn’t that your tagline for most everything?”
She wondered if there was rancor behind the statement but she hadn’t heard any. Or, better yet, he hadn’t let her hear any. With a sigh, she pushed away from the moment and struggled to get her mind back to neutral territory. Better not to pull more sensitive subjects up to the surface of this relatively calm they were having.
And then you finally got to go see Captain America, probably only because your sister, who is the only one who knows the way to the movie theater in this city of trees and highways, wanted to go see Divergent for the third time? And you came home at 10pm and pulled out your laptop? And now you have to go to bed because your nephews get up early and you're two hours ahead of your own schedule as it is?
And you come up with this WIP?????? AND YOU NEED TO GO BACK BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU MISSED IMPORTANT STUFF!!?!?!!!?????
“What's her name?” Clint asked, smoothing a hand over the hood of the car Natasha had just driven up to a stop in front of his building. She could tell he was trying so valiantly to hold in his derision at the make, model and - yes, let's be honest - color that she had to laugh. When he narrowed his eyes at her, she only smirked. “Just a question.”
“You’re so predictable. Most cars don’t have names.”
“For your information, all cars have names. It’s the ignorant owners that don’t take the time to find them out that are the problem with this country.”
He’d taken his hand off the hood, trying to distance himself from the object. She’d seen him do it often enough that she didn’t need to ask him if he liked it or not. It didn’t take a rocket scientist or, for that matter, any other sort to know that Clint disliked the car she’d picked out for just tootling around the city. It was black, for one. It wasn’t twenty years old, for the next. There was probably a longer list but that didn’t matter. She hadn’t gotten this particular car with him in mind. He was never going to get to drive in.
“It’s a loaner,” she assured him. “Sitwell’s letting me borrow it for a couple of days. Maggie will never have to know that you dared look at another.”
“Only looked,” he hastened to add, as if his car really might get jealous of this intruder. “You planning on staying for awhile?”
“I’m here for the evening. Is that going to be a problem?”
She watching Clint carefully through her lashes, wondering if his “roommate” was going to be around or not. While she and Kate Bishop had met on a few instances, they hadn’t exactly been the sort of moments where people grew into fast friends. They had an uneasy truce, the two of them. Kate silently promised not to let Clint get too hurt physically and Natasha had given her word, out loud, that she wouldn’t break Clint’s heart too badly.
This was one of those times that Natasha really hoped the young girl wasn’t around because she couldn’t actually promise more than a few hours. Their meetings had been so few and far between that Natasha wasn’t sure if she could call herself more than a one-night stand, stopping by for a good time before heading back to work.
The raw hurt on Clint’s face was enough to make her close her eyes. “I can leave,” she whispered, wishing she could make more time for the man she considered her best friend. Her only friend, really. They couldn’t promise each other more than that, as much as she sometimes wished she could.
“Don’t.”
She felt the keys slip from her fingers but she didn’t dare look up until he put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Why don’t you let me take you somewhere nice, Tasha? I’m pretty sure I can handle a car like this. We won’t tell Maggie. It’ll be fine.”
“But-” she started to protest before he silenced her with a deep kiss. When he let her up for air, she sagged against him, enjoying the fact that he didn’t mind the theatrics. “Fine. Somewhere nice it is. Just so you know, I don’t mind BedStuy.”
“Yeah, but the people here get intimidated when they see a flashy car like this and a pretty girl hanging on my arm. They’ll think I’m dealing drugs and I don’t really want to get all the attention. I’ve already gotten more than my fair share, thank you very much.”
“Stark come knocking?”
“You just can’t say no to the guy when he has a jet overhead, ready to whoosh you off to places unknown for fun and frivolity. I only remember half of that weekend.” He massaged his jaw, pushing and pulling it as if testing it out. “And none of that half was any fun.”
Natasha laughed but only because she’d been fortunate enough to be able to turn Stark down on the last few missions he’d begged her help with. Working with Stark was about as much fun as working with him, which is why she’d kept her SHIELD gear after Clint had decided to turn his in and go Avengering full time.
Those kind of logistics made theirs a long distance relationship, if there ever was one. Add to that a precocious teenager and a lifetime of secrets to run from. It made for awkward first moments whenever they did find the time to be together.
Clint didn’t hold a grudge for long, though. As they zipped through the streets of New York, on their way to some upper crust part of town that had a tall hotel they could climb a few times until the first rays of dawn pushed her back toward DC, Natasha unrolled her window and stuck out her hand, letting the wind current take it up and down a few times.
“You still logging in enough hours in the sky to keep your license current?”
He looked at her over his darkened glasses and she wondered, not for the first time, just how much those things accentuated his already keen eyesight. “You need extraction?”
“Always good to keep my options open.”
“Isn’t that your tagline for most everything?”
She wondered if there was rancor behind the statement but she hadn’t heard any. Or, better yet, he hadn’t let her hear any. With a sigh, she pushed away from the moment and struggled to get her mind back to neutral territory. Better not to pull more sensitive subjects up to the surface of this relatively calm they were having.