Through the eyes of a sniper on vacation
Title: Through the eyes of a sniper on vacation
Author: wizbey
Remix Recipient: shenshen77
Pairing(s): Clint/Natasha
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Nothing really that I can think of
Author's Note: This takes palce after Avengers but before Captain America 2. I decided to remix Appreciation, in it Natasha is very protect of Clint and looks at his body in a realistic way, including his scars. In this fic it's Clint who is protective of Natasha (from a distance) and appreciative of both her body and scars.
Fic I've Chosen To Remix: Appreciation
Summary: He will always have her back, it's just what he does. It doesn't matter if their in the middle of the desert or some crowded vacation resort.
Clint watched as Natasha adjusted the floppy hat on her head and turned a page in the book she was reading. The Caribbean wasn’t her normal anything really. It wasn’t his either. It was too warm, and the women were expected to wear too little the men were allowed shorts and shirts were frowned upon. She was good but even the black widow had a hard time concealing a good amount of weapons while wearing a bikini. He took another gulp of his coffee. This resort was not really his thing, it was more of hers but she wouldn’t want anyone else covering her back. He wouldn’t want anyone else covering it either. She shifted positions from lying on her stomach to lounging on her back. Every so often she looked up from her book making eye contact and probably googly eyes at some half-drunk college student.
Part of the reason why he hated the carribian. Especially at this time of the year. Resorts were mostly filled with drunk collage kids. Natasha fit right in. he stood out a bit. Okay a lot. Which is how he tried to get out of this assignment. There were a few other reasons but in the end he was convinced that he was the best for the job. Or at least it was something along the lines as he’d no longer have a job. He made their new handle (Alvi, Alveraz something like that) promise he wouldn’t have to touch paperwork. It worked, which in a way made Clint sad. Phil had never been a pushover like that. He downed the rest of his coffee and asked for a refill.
They were looking at her like a piece of meat. He was use to that. She was very good at exploiting the shallow weaknesses of anyone around her. He had once watched her pick up a women by pretending to be interested. SHIELD hadn’t even been aware that she didn’t have a sexual preference. She had noticed and pounced on it. it had ended okay, and by that he meant Natasha had added a scar to her collection. It started at the nape of her neck and extended down to just above her hip. She had been in medical for about 24 hours before leaving against medical advice. But then again for them even 24 hours was a long time.
Clint sat there still sipping his coffee and staring, he really couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter that the other girls that strolled past wore tiny little bikinis just as small (some managing to be smaller) than Natasha’s but as always it was her that drew his attention. He always watched her, from afar, usually through the scope of his sniper or bow; he could always spot her in any crowd. This was just how they did it. How they’ve always done it. He preferred it this way. He could make sure that she was safe and protect her when she wasn’t. Here he was her surveillance. She was gathering Intel, no one would think twice when some hot redhead walked past or was sitting beside them. Especially when said redhead was ‘drunk of her ass’.
From his spot at the bar Clint saw Nat stand and put down her book and just like a wild cat she stretched her tight muscles. That was the difference as he watched her arms reaching far over her head, each muscle defined in her back drew taunt, he could see the scar on her right shoulder from the knife fight in Budapest. She reached her arm down her back, first one than the other, her fingers brushing against her spine where ran a few stokes of a whip overlapped the longer scar and Clint just yearned to be the one touching them, to reach out to touch the fine ridges others put on her skin. Each proof of Nat’s determination to survive, no matter the cost.
She half turned and waved, Clint doing his best to pretend he wasn’t staring, but he knew that Natasha would know that he was. He always was. It was mostly his job after all. They had been partners for a while; able to interpret each others body moments and communicate without words. Her move told him to watch her back; she was doing her job to play to part of pool party Barbie. In one movement she readied herself, he saw her muscles ripple around the bullet wound she got in the interrogation in Pyongyang, and the indent of the harpoon she took in the calf during the siege with the Somali pirates, then she is dove into the water with the grace and ease of a professional disappear below the water’s surface.
Clint couldn’t help but stare as she resurfaced and did a few laps around the pool. Her back, legs and arms all moving together, flowing with more power than someone her size had any right to have. She pulled through the water with her arms and pushed with her legs. He spotted others, including their mark watching, and Clint forced himself to look away and order another cup of coffee. He didn’t want anyone to get suspicious of the fact that he was also looking at them. He needed to figure out and predict how their mark (and his security detail) would act.
His body is littered with scars, most of them occurring since he had met her and a few of them because of her. He regards each of his as a piece of his history detailing where he had been to clue as to where he would go. Her scares aren’t imperfections on her body, for him they add to what makes her beautiful. He knows that she views her scars in much the same way as he views his. She never wants to forget her past so she can continue to learn from it.
He watched their mark approach her, and discuss plan to meet up for dinner. Reading lips was a very useful skill he had acquired over the years. It was part of the reason why she was covering her, so that he could be one step ahead. Begrudgingly he put down the half full cup of coffee and a tip walking off to their room. He had timed it to follow their mark inside and pin down his location inside of the hotel a little more than ‘somewhere on the third floor’. Plus he knew that Nat would follow him back in a bit.
He ran slightly so that he could catch the elevator with their mark. He gave him a smile and said a pleasant hello. He got a nod in return. He was sure the only reason he could get away with things like that was because he was dressed as a middle-aged tourist. Complete with tacky Hawaiian shirt. He got off at the third floor and walk three rooms and across the hall from where their mark stopped. Room 342. Their mark disappeared into his room and Clint made his way to the 8th floor where him and Nat where sharing a room.
She was already waiting for him on the bed still clad in her bikini when he got there. “Room 342.” He said as he eyed the suit on the bed for him and the tiny dress (he was pretty sure it was a dress anyways) for her.
“We’re going to dinner.” She replied still un-moving.
“I know. Great job angling your body so he’d have to face me when he talked.”
“Skill. You know that. Though you could have just as easily read mine.”
“I know. But you love to show off.”
“I do not.” She pointed to his shirt off the bed and Clint understood what she wanted. He took off his shirt and before he could change she ran her hands over his chest. “I have more scars then you”
“Keep dreaming sweetheart.” He replied as he put on the pink button down shirt she had picked out.
“No it’s true.” She instead. Before she could reach out and get her dress Clint stopped her.
“Why don’t we count.” He was already running his hands over her body, lightly tracing every faint scar he could see. “We’ll do you before dinner and I can be dessert.”
Natasha smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
In the end he had agreed to do the assignment to not only protect her because he was her partner and that’s what partners do, but to also stare at her all day while she wore a tiny bikini.
Author: wizbey
Remix Recipient: shenshen77
Pairing(s): Clint/Natasha
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Nothing really that I can think of
Author's Note: This takes palce after Avengers but before Captain America 2. I decided to remix Appreciation, in it Natasha is very protect of Clint and looks at his body in a realistic way, including his scars. In this fic it's Clint who is protective of Natasha (from a distance) and appreciative of both her body and scars.
Fic I've Chosen To Remix: Appreciation
Summary: He will always have her back, it's just what he does. It doesn't matter if their in the middle of the desert or some crowded vacation resort.
Clint watched as Natasha adjusted the floppy hat on her head and turned a page in the book she was reading. The Caribbean wasn’t her normal anything really. It wasn’t his either. It was too warm, and the women were expected to wear too little the men were allowed shorts and shirts were frowned upon. She was good but even the black widow had a hard time concealing a good amount of weapons while wearing a bikini. He took another gulp of his coffee. This resort was not really his thing, it was more of hers but she wouldn’t want anyone else covering her back. He wouldn’t want anyone else covering it either. She shifted positions from lying on her stomach to lounging on her back. Every so often she looked up from her book making eye contact and probably googly eyes at some half-drunk college student.
Part of the reason why he hated the carribian. Especially at this time of the year. Resorts were mostly filled with drunk collage kids. Natasha fit right in. he stood out a bit. Okay a lot. Which is how he tried to get out of this assignment. There were a few other reasons but in the end he was convinced that he was the best for the job. Or at least it was something along the lines as he’d no longer have a job. He made their new handle (Alvi, Alveraz something like that) promise he wouldn’t have to touch paperwork. It worked, which in a way made Clint sad. Phil had never been a pushover like that. He downed the rest of his coffee and asked for a refill.
They were looking at her like a piece of meat. He was use to that. She was very good at exploiting the shallow weaknesses of anyone around her. He had once watched her pick up a women by pretending to be interested. SHIELD hadn’t even been aware that she didn’t have a sexual preference. She had noticed and pounced on it. it had ended okay, and by that he meant Natasha had added a scar to her collection. It started at the nape of her neck and extended down to just above her hip. She had been in medical for about 24 hours before leaving against medical advice. But then again for them even 24 hours was a long time.
Clint sat there still sipping his coffee and staring, he really couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter that the other girls that strolled past wore tiny little bikinis just as small (some managing to be smaller) than Natasha’s but as always it was her that drew his attention. He always watched her, from afar, usually through the scope of his sniper or bow; he could always spot her in any crowd. This was just how they did it. How they’ve always done it. He preferred it this way. He could make sure that she was safe and protect her when she wasn’t. Here he was her surveillance. She was gathering Intel, no one would think twice when some hot redhead walked past or was sitting beside them. Especially when said redhead was ‘drunk of her ass’.
From his spot at the bar Clint saw Nat stand and put down her book and just like a wild cat she stretched her tight muscles. That was the difference as he watched her arms reaching far over her head, each muscle defined in her back drew taunt, he could see the scar on her right shoulder from the knife fight in Budapest. She reached her arm down her back, first one than the other, her fingers brushing against her spine where ran a few stokes of a whip overlapped the longer scar and Clint just yearned to be the one touching them, to reach out to touch the fine ridges others put on her skin. Each proof of Nat’s determination to survive, no matter the cost.
She half turned and waved, Clint doing his best to pretend he wasn’t staring, but he knew that Natasha would know that he was. He always was. It was mostly his job after all. They had been partners for a while; able to interpret each others body moments and communicate without words. Her move told him to watch her back; she was doing her job to play to part of pool party Barbie. In one movement she readied herself, he saw her muscles ripple around the bullet wound she got in the interrogation in Pyongyang, and the indent of the harpoon she took in the calf during the siege with the Somali pirates, then she is dove into the water with the grace and ease of a professional disappear below the water’s surface.
Clint couldn’t help but stare as she resurfaced and did a few laps around the pool. Her back, legs and arms all moving together, flowing with more power than someone her size had any right to have. She pulled through the water with her arms and pushed with her legs. He spotted others, including their mark watching, and Clint forced himself to look away and order another cup of coffee. He didn’t want anyone to get suspicious of the fact that he was also looking at them. He needed to figure out and predict how their mark (and his security detail) would act.
His body is littered with scars, most of them occurring since he had met her and a few of them because of her. He regards each of his as a piece of his history detailing where he had been to clue as to where he would go. Her scares aren’t imperfections on her body, for him they add to what makes her beautiful. He knows that she views her scars in much the same way as he views his. She never wants to forget her past so she can continue to learn from it.
He watched their mark approach her, and discuss plan to meet up for dinner. Reading lips was a very useful skill he had acquired over the years. It was part of the reason why she was covering her, so that he could be one step ahead. Begrudgingly he put down the half full cup of coffee and a tip walking off to their room. He had timed it to follow their mark inside and pin down his location inside of the hotel a little more than ‘somewhere on the third floor’. Plus he knew that Nat would follow him back in a bit.
He ran slightly so that he could catch the elevator with their mark. He gave him a smile and said a pleasant hello. He got a nod in return. He was sure the only reason he could get away with things like that was because he was dressed as a middle-aged tourist. Complete with tacky Hawaiian shirt. He got off at the third floor and walk three rooms and across the hall from where their mark stopped. Room 342. Their mark disappeared into his room and Clint made his way to the 8th floor where him and Nat where sharing a room.
She was already waiting for him on the bed still clad in her bikini when he got there. “Room 342.” He said as he eyed the suit on the bed for him and the tiny dress (he was pretty sure it was a dress anyways) for her.
“We’re going to dinner.” She replied still un-moving.
“I know. Great job angling your body so he’d have to face me when he talked.”
“Skill. You know that. Though you could have just as easily read mine.”
“I know. But you love to show off.”
“I do not.” She pointed to his shirt off the bed and Clint understood what she wanted. He took off his shirt and before he could change she ran her hands over his chest. “I have more scars then you”
“Keep dreaming sweetheart.” He replied as he put on the pink button down shirt she had picked out.
“No it’s true.” She instead. Before she could reach out and get her dress Clint stopped her.
“Why don’t we count.” He was already running his hands over her body, lightly tracing every faint scar he could see. “We’ll do you before dinner and I can be dessert.”
Natasha smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
In the end he had agreed to do the assignment to not only protect her because he was her partner and that’s what partners do, but to also stare at her all day while she wore a tiny bikini.