2, and I'm greedy so there.redinmyledgerMay 16 2012, 07:47:46 UTC
Natasha covered her face as she stifled a sneeze and stayed low and crouched in their hiding spot. Her eyes widened even as they watered and she looked at Clint as she waited to see if anyone else had noticed the sneeze.
When it became clear their cover wasn't blown yet she placed her head against her knees and prayed that it was just dust, but the heavy feeling in her head and the way she was struggling to breathe said otherwise.
Clint had a sneaking suspicion that the crabbiness she had exhibited this morning was not because of being "extra-tired" like she claimed. The Black Widow was sick and even he could tell. He was just going to have to wait for her to realize that before she took a backseat on their current mission. She was so damn controlling that it would take him tying her up in their safe house before she took a backseat.
She sneezed. She fucking sneezed. Clint's eyes went wide and he gave her a look. His hand immediately lifted up and went to cover her mouth. When it became apparent that their surveillance target was still oblivious he let out a sigh of relief. God love her, but if she didn't take a breather on this mission she was going to endanger the both of them. Her sick was still better than most agents, but she was still sickClint lowered his hand from her mouth and shook his head. He let out a sigh and did a hand motion. He was calling this. They were taking a few hours to get her back to the safe house. Clint could come back on his own
( ... )
She really hadn't meant to take it all out on Clint that morning, but when he kept pestering her and doing the whiny hungry partner puppy thing she may as well have just hit his nose with a rolled up newspaper.
She could feel her cheeks warming despite the cool night air and finally just looked up at him with a small nod. The Widow was admitting defeat and waving the white flag over a cold. Then the corners of her eyes crinkled slightly as she licked his palm before he took his hand away.
She inched after him, every muscle protesting as if she'd never once been out in the field. She was sick, and she was hating every damn second of it because the Widow didn't do infections. She didn't do colds. But she had to admit that Barton was right. They needed to leave because she'd only be mad at herself for blowing a mission over a sneeze.
Clint tried to ignore the fact that she licked his hand like a ten year old. They thought he was the child in the field. He would be sure to inform her of this once they were out of here and safe. He was gonna have to look after her in this state as well. He got control for once, but he had no doubt that she would buck him the entire time about it. She liked to be on top in numerous aspects of her life and not just in the bed.
Once they were clear and out of the "danger zone" he could speak freely. They were making their way down a side street in silence. He glanced at her and rubbed his palm on her shoulder. "I wish this was the first time I requested this, but stop licking me during surveillance. In this state it's extremely unsanitary and during other instances it's distracting, Tasha."
She was just better at covering her childishness. After all, who would believe that the Widow that nailed people with a single glare would lick various parts of Clint's body just to earn a kill? She was the master of distraction when she had to be, no trick too low. She just wasn't good at being sick, or the one being taken care of. She hated anything that left her incapacitated and feeling helpless.
Natasha's lips curled upwards briefly as she glanced at him and tried not to shove him into a dumpster just for comforting her. It wasn't Clint's fault. She loved his hugs, she loved his touch. But this was sympathy for being sick touching and she hated it. "You didn't say please, Clint."
Coulson never believed him. The first time this happened he tried to tell the agent, but he wasn't buying it. Clint was the one that critiqued fashion when looking through his scope. He was the one that made beat boxing sounds over the comm when he was particularly bored. He was the unprofessional one so it was easy to see how they'd believe that Natasha could never lick someone while on the job.
Part of him did expect her to shove him into the side of the dumpster when he tried to touch her. She kind of surprised him when she held back and opted to use words instead. "I never say please, sweetheart. Don't act so surprised." He smiled and dropped his hand back to his side. "Settin' you up at the safe house so I can go get you some crap to knock you out." Which was a lot of cold medicine.
Natasha was still plotting the day she would belt out a song over the comms just to drown him out. Clint was so good at trying to ruin her concentration but made such a fuss over licking. She'd have thought he'd at least enjoy it by now.
She reached up to push her hair back from her face and huffed out another breath as she tried to fight the urge to tug down her uniform. She just needed out of the suffocating leather. Instead she surprised even herself as she reached for Clint's hand silently. Something grounding. Something to hang onto. "And I hate being knocked out, so don't even think about it."
If she ever tugged down her uniform in public then he would be telling Coulson big time. He would film it. He would film it and he would send that to Coulson. Coulson needed to know that Clint wasn't the only irresponsible party out in the field. Tasha could be quite the child when you pitted her up against Clint. Some would argue that it was Clint's doing, but he refused to acknowledge that.
"I have no intention of physically knocking you out, babe. I was just thinking of a light push with some drugs." He smiled and shifted his hand to thread his fingers with hers. He knew when she needed comfort to keep it up. He was fine with being this kind of rock for her. It was nice to be needed as morbid as that sounded. Having Natasha rely on him like that was nice.
Sometimes she wondered how either of them managed to keep their minds on work, but the truth was with the kinds of things they did; the kind of work they carried out, they needed the outlet. They needed to blow off steam otherwise Natasha at least would have been lost to the darkness all over again. It didn't stop her feeling sorry for Coulson though. He was always having to put up with them.
"No, I know. Drugs is what I meant. Clint, I hate it. I hate not being in control of my own body and something else calling the shots." But she kept a hold of his hand and moved in a little closer. Inch by inch she was giving him ground to take care of her. It wasn't as if she didn't rely on him because she doubted him. Far from it. Natasha had to admit though that it was nice time to time to give in and let him take care of her. He was good at it.
There was no doubt that if Fury ran the ops then they would not be acting that childish on missions. No one wanted to get on Fury's bad side. Clint liked to irritated the guy every once in a while, but pissing his boss off wasn't always a good move. If he felt like he could get away with it then he was totally game. Coulson was the only one that would put up with their antics when they were in the field.
She was incredibly controlling even when it came to things that were supposed to make her better. She got a little closer and Clint just smiled. He let go of her hand and slid his arm around her shoulders. He drew her into his side as they walked. "It's gonna make you better, Tasha." He smiled as they moved through the streets. To a passerby they looked like lovers on a stroll. Certainly not assassins leaving a surveillance job.
Even Natasha rarely risked Fury's wrath unless she took complete offence to something he was doing. When she'd first arrived at SHIELD she'd fought the Director at every turn, but slowly as she'd shaken off more and more of the disgruntled brainwashed weapon persona they'd fallen into a strange friendship. 'Friendship' didn't even seem like the right word, but it would do.
Luckily their uniforms were a bit more toned down than usual. A strange cross between casual and black ops, the two assassins blending in with their urban surroundings. If they'd been in their usual uniforms no doubt they'd have drawn glances for all the wrong reasons. She leaned into him as they walked and for a moment even Natasha herself let herself believe that they were just lovers out for a stroll, and that the rest of the world didn't exist. "No doctors."
Clint is almost a little offended that she would even think he was gonna bring a doctor into this mix. He wasn't a complete idiot. Bringing in a doctor was like intentionally poking the bear with a stick. He had no intention or riling Natasha up in her condition. If he wasn't careful she could snap and break him in half or something. They would not be calling any doctors. "Nope. Just Dr. Clint, sweetheart."
They took a right and breezed past some other couples. Surveillance gear never really forced the two of them into their uniforms. They could slide under the radar in just black. When they moved in for the attack was when things got more high tech. "You're gonna take a nap and I'm gonna finish clocking that asshole's moves."
"For the record I prefer Dr. Clint when he's naked and not being an actual doctor." Natasha smiled right before she was hit with another sneezing fit soon followed by a cough that made her slender frame shake against him. Stealth really wasn't in her vocabulary tonight.
She wiped her nose on her sleeve and huffed out a breath when it became clear that her nose was well and truly blocked. Her voice took on a low nasal quality, and she had no doubt that even once she was better Clint wouldn't let her forget this. "But you'll come back, right? I'm not staying at the safe house alone."
"That is typically how Dr. Clint prefers to perform his operations. He's quite a fan of the nude practice." He only winced when she started sneezing. Yeah. He made the right call getting her out of there right then. They'd be completely and totally boned by her damn sneezing. He was sure of it. Luckily they were a ways away now.
"I'll be back, Vader. Don't worry. I don't relish in the idea of freezing my nuts off out here on my own. I'll be sure to get back as soon as I can. Can't leave my patient alone for too long." Oh this was going in the history books. He might take pictures to preserve this moment.
"So I've noticed. It's why Dr. Clint will always be the doctor I come back to." She looked at him after the sneezing, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She hated being pulled out of the field but he really had made the right call.
Natasha frowned slightly at the nickname, but her voice had dropped another octave and she was starting to sound breathless. Her head dropped down against his arm as she started to feel her energy levels drop out the closer they got to the safe house. "Wear a scarf. I don't need you sick like me."
"I should probably keep Dr. Clint confined to the bedroom huh? I'd hate to have to bust out Dr. Clint on Coulson or someone." Dr. Clint always wrapped up his treatment with sex or something just as fun. He really had no intention of doing that with any of the other agents. Mostly because he didn't want to, but he told Natasha it was because of his fear of her. Admitting anything remotely similar to feelings just seemed silly and uncalled for.
"Yes, ma'am. I will be wearing a scar you can be damn sure of that." Clint wasn't exactly excited about doing an op with a scarf, but he'd do it for Natasha. He didn't want to be sick either. Nothing would ever get done on this op.
When it became clear their cover wasn't blown yet she placed her head against her knees and prayed that it was just dust, but the heavy feeling in her head and the way she was struggling to breathe said otherwise.
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She sneezed. She fucking sneezed. Clint's eyes went wide and he gave her a look. His hand immediately lifted up and went to cover her mouth. When it became apparent that their surveillance target was still oblivious he let out a sigh of relief. God love her, but if she didn't take a breather on this mission she was going to endanger the both of them. Her sick was still better than most agents, but she was still sickClint lowered his hand from her mouth and shook his head. He let out a sigh and did a hand motion. He was calling this. They were taking a few hours to get her back to the safe house. Clint could come back on his own ( ... )
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She could feel her cheeks warming despite the cool night air and finally just looked up at him with a small nod. The Widow was admitting defeat and waving the white flag over a cold. Then the corners of her eyes crinkled slightly as she licked his palm before he took his hand away.
She inched after him, every muscle protesting as if she'd never once been out in the field. She was sick, and she was hating every damn second of it because the Widow didn't do infections. She didn't do colds. But she had to admit that Barton was right. They needed to leave because she'd only be mad at herself for blowing a mission over a sneeze.
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Once they were clear and out of the "danger zone" he could speak freely. They were making their way down a side street in silence. He glanced at her and rubbed his palm on her shoulder. "I wish this was the first time I requested this, but stop licking me during surveillance. In this state it's extremely unsanitary and during other instances it's distracting, Tasha."
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Natasha's lips curled upwards briefly as she glanced at him and tried not to shove him into a dumpster just for comforting her. It wasn't Clint's fault. She loved his hugs, she loved his touch. But this was sympathy for being sick touching and she hated it. "You didn't say please, Clint."
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Part of him did expect her to shove him into the side of the dumpster when he tried to touch her. She kind of surprised him when she held back and opted to use words instead. "I never say please, sweetheart. Don't act so surprised." He smiled and dropped his hand back to his side. "Settin' you up at the safe house so I can go get you some crap to knock you out." Which was a lot of cold medicine.
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She reached up to push her hair back from her face and huffed out another breath as she tried to fight the urge to tug down her uniform. She just needed out of the suffocating leather. Instead she surprised even herself as she reached for Clint's hand silently. Something grounding. Something to hang onto. "And I hate being knocked out, so don't even think about it."
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"I have no intention of physically knocking you out, babe. I was just thinking of a light push with some drugs." He smiled and shifted his hand to thread his fingers with hers. He knew when she needed comfort to keep it up. He was fine with being this kind of rock for her. It was nice to be needed as morbid as that sounded. Having Natasha rely on him like that was nice.
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"No, I know. Drugs is what I meant. Clint, I hate it. I hate not being in control of my own body and something else calling the shots." But she kept a hold of his hand and moved in a little closer. Inch by inch she was giving him ground to take care of her. It wasn't as if she didn't rely on him because she doubted him. Far from it. Natasha had to admit though that it was nice time to time to give in and let him take care of her. He was good at it.
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She was incredibly controlling even when it came to things that were supposed to make her better. She got a little closer and Clint just smiled. He let go of her hand and slid his arm around her shoulders. He drew her into his side as they walked. "It's gonna make you better, Tasha." He smiled as they moved through the streets. To a passerby they looked like lovers on a stroll. Certainly not assassins leaving a surveillance job.
Reply
Luckily their uniforms were a bit more toned down than usual. A strange cross between casual and black ops, the two assassins blending in with their urban surroundings. If they'd been in their usual uniforms no doubt they'd have drawn glances for all the wrong reasons. She leaned into him as they walked and for a moment even Natasha herself let herself believe that they were just lovers out for a stroll, and that the rest of the world didn't exist. "No doctors."
Reply
They took a right and breezed past some other couples. Surveillance gear never really forced the two of them into their uniforms. They could slide under the radar in just black. When they moved in for the attack was when things got more high tech. "You're gonna take a nap and I'm gonna finish clocking that asshole's moves."
Reply
She wiped her nose on her sleeve and huffed out a breath when it became clear that her nose was well and truly blocked. Her voice took on a low nasal quality, and she had no doubt that even once she was better Clint wouldn't let her forget this. "But you'll come back, right? I'm not staying at the safe house alone."
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"I'll be back, Vader. Don't worry. I don't relish in the idea of freezing my nuts off out here on my own. I'll be sure to get back as soon as I can. Can't leave my patient alone for too long." Oh this was going in the history books. He might take pictures to preserve this moment.
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Natasha frowned slightly at the nickname, but her voice had dropped another octave and she was starting to sound breathless. Her head dropped down against his arm as she started to feel her energy levels drop out the closer they got to the safe house. "Wear a scarf. I don't need you sick like me."
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"Yes, ma'am. I will be wearing a scar you can be damn sure of that." Clint wasn't exactly excited about doing an op with a scarf, but he'd do it for Natasha. He didn't want to be sick either. Nothing would ever get done on this op.
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