InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "valary is hot"

. (hourglasss) wrote in snapthread,
@ 2019-05-19 20:32:00

Entry tags:

clint barton (616), natasha romanoff (mcu)

Who: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff
What: A first date for two people who have very possibly never gone on an actual first date before.
When: Tonight.
Where: The Doors have offered up a magical mystery dining location. The Doors are assholes.
Rating: PG!

This was a normal thing, right? This was a very normal suggestion to make. It had occurred to Natasha off the cuff, and she hadn't paused to consider before she'd just let it loose: let's go on an actual date. If the options were limited in Starklandia, they weren't nonexistent, either. It would be nice, she'd thought, and after all - she and Clint had eaten together countless times. The only thing different would be the designation. A date. It sounded - something. She didn't know what it sounded, really, but she liked the feel of it. The idea that it did have the designation. (She did not have to be the expert in psychological thought patterns that she was to understand why the word felt important to her, but still: it was. And she liked it.) Plus, it was just Clint. She was always comfortable with Clint, she always had been - almost five years apart and the second she'd seen him in Tokyo, even, it had been like they had only parted a week earlier.

And she was an extra level of comfortable with Clint here, like this. Sort of a permanent low grade joy in that, even when other things could be rough, even when other memories crept in: she was comfortable, with him. Happy. She could reach for his hand if she wanted to, he would look at her in that particularly dazzling way, they'd slept together and it had been wildly good, they were synced up as they had always been. A date should be an easy thing to add into the mix.

Except this was not, she remembered, a couple hours after asking, a thing she did a lot. Her last date had been in 2015, for God's sake, if that even counted. Natasha was determined not to get in her head about it, to keep it low-key, but there was - excitement, a little? Nerves, maybe? Slight worry? All of which was probably pretty standard for a first date with someone you really liked, even if you had already jumped several steps ahead of first date territory with that same person. The Doors had been pretty obliging to her plenty of times, surely there'd be some decent option.

Today, though, The Doors appeared to have a sense of humor, because this was the third one they had opened, and this one was looking out into a sea of...varying and aggressive shades of pink, and doodled stars, and walls and walls of overpriced dolls lining the shelves near an even larger pink sign that screamed AMERICAN GIRL CAFE in swirling pink cursive. "Well - " Natasha said, and turned to look at Clint. It was impossible not to laugh, at least a little. Not what she'd imagined, exactly, but. "I mean. I'd say that of the three, this one looks the most like there's a shot at the food being decent."

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hourglasss
2019-05-21 03:06 am UTC (link)

"Not to us? What's more Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff than six different shades of pink and shelves full of historical dolls with intricately crafted backstories?" she demanded, but she smiled when she said it: the sheer ridiculousness of it mandated pretty much no choice but to smile. She reached out to straighten the lapels of his blazer, though, before they barrelled in headfirst. His hair was a little bit of a mess, she liked it that way, and as promised, she was wearing his purple hoodie that she'd swiped - a little too big on her, she'd rolled the sleeves up to make it fit better. Standing together, they didn't look like they were in matching datewear, exactly, they looked - well, they probably looked like two people who between them had exactly half a clue of what they were doing, but.

Something about all of that felt appropriate. At least if they were fumbling, it was both of them. Two people feeling like idiots somehow seemed like better odds than one person feeling like an idiot.

"We don't have to do this tonight, if it's too..." she offered. "We could always come back and try on another day." She hadn't been imagining anything over the top - somewhere they could find a burger joint, maybe, or a pizza place - no disrespect meant to Alpha Peter's offerings at Pancho's. She'd have settled for a hot dog cart. The point was to keep it low pressure, and - fun, even.

"You do look nice, though," she told him, because it was true. "Be a shame to waste this look. Plus they're offering something called..." She squinted a little, reading the menu printed on a chalkboard in those same swirling letters at a little bit of a distance. "Kit's Mini Muffin. We can pretend that doesn't sound obscene."

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today_sucks
2019-05-21 09:29 pm UTC (link)

"Not for us," Clint amended, although he hardly looked embarrassed over his poor word choices. He squinted at all the pink and then all the dolls, of which there were entirely too many, but then decided to just go for it. Why not? Fuck it. Clint Barton could make a good time out of most anything, and he wasn't going to do it by halves on his first date.

His first date at a cafe clearly aimed at demographic of little girls aged seven to ten. Awkward.

"Nah," he said, because another day simply wouldn't do. He'd worn a blazer. This had to happen now. "Let's do this. I need to know what that Mini Muffin is all about. Please no ick jokes there are kids around and my ears will bleed." Still, he took her hand and decided they'd take the first step of this really, really weird journey together. It was time for tea and muffins. Hopefully they were muffins.

"If these dolls were all sitting in one bedroom, it'd be the intro to a horror movie," he said cheerfully.

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hourglasss
2019-05-22 01:11 am UTC (link)

Natasha laced her fingers through his, some - strange burst of joy blossoming low in her chest as he reached for it. Clint Barton, full on committing to one of what had to be, at least, the top five weirdest first dates in history, and he had gone all in on the first hand. "Hey," she said, then leaned up and kissed his cheek as they approached the host stand. "You're awesome. I love you." Which - was normally the kind of sentiment that would come at the end of a date, not the beginning. Also not the kind of sentiment that would generally come on a first date at all, ever, under any circumstance but, well. They hadn't really done any of this in chronological order, no reason to start now.

The hostess looked skeptical as they approached to be seated, and Natasha almost smiled. This didn't really count as spy work, exactly, this didn't count as a cover, but still. It had been a long time, and it was always nice to do the thing you were best at. She pressed herself a little closer to Clint's arm, smoothed her face out into something more frazzled.

"I know - I know," she opened, not giving the woman a chance to launch into their clearly practiced only adults accompanied by children spiel. "We know the rules, but it's a special circumstance. It's - my boyfriend's niece is coming to live with us for a few months, and it's....like, this is a crazy situation. His sister's getting this awful divorce, and it's so ugly, and - we just. We want to do something for her this weekend, to make her feel special. You know? And we had to try. We had to, I just - we were hoping we could just eat really quickly, just, we wanted to try it. We want to make sure it's special enough. God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you don't need this whole saga, it's just that neither of us knows much about kids but we want so much to make her happy - "

It was perfect, really, too many words, too much detail, the way her voice trembled just a little, the clutch of her hand in Clint's, and by the end of it, the hostess was nearly in tears, seating them at what was clearly the best table in the cafe, and had presented them with a 30 percent off coupon to use on any merchandise their nice might want when they came back.

"Excellent," Natasha said, cracking the menu once the hostess disappeared. "They've got about four kinds of dessert, you'll like that."

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today_sucks
2019-05-22 11:39 pm UTC (link)

It was a pretty damned weird spot for a first date, considering this place was very much for children and maybe the suffering parents of children. And no matter what jokes Clint made about his own mental age, neither he or Natasha fit that bill.

Still, no one could ever say that Clint didn't put himself one hundred percent into things when he cared about them because he nodded along looking appropriately worried and concerned and sad over the story Natasha was tellng -- nodding in some spots, and not stopping himself interjecting in others. "I told her not to marry someone named Barney. It wasn't going to end well--" and so on and so forth.

And of course, he looked appropriately grateful when they were lead to the stupidest little table, where his knees knocked the top when he sat down. "A bet Liz is gonna love this place," he all but promised the hostess. "I think it'll cheer her right up."

And then she was gone and Clint had to chew at his lower lip not to laugh. Because this place was ridiculous and his chair was too small and there were just too many dolls. "What kinds of desserts? Should we get them all? What is a mini muffin? You look pretty."

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hourglasss
2019-05-24 05:02 pm UTC (link)

Natasha grinned at him across the table, entirely too pleased with the pair of them and how easy it had been to just - fall naturally into rhythm, even if the only person they were going to work on had been a probably-underpaid hostess who seated people for a too-expensive lunch in a cafe full of dolls. "We should absolutely get them all, that was pretty good work back there, Hawkeye. You've earned a half dozen....Rebecca's Pink Lemonade Cupcakes." Everything was so pink. Natasha had never really had strong feelings about pink, positive or negative, but she was now, at least, of the belief that there could be too much of it in any given space.

"And do I? Thank you," she said, absurdly pleased by the compliment. Maybe because she really had tried to keep it casual, to take the pressure off, jeans and the hoodie he liked her in and once he'd mentioned he liked her hair braided, so she'd done that. She hadn't felt like she was bringing especially strong date-game to the table, not when he'd shown up in that blazer (for the record: she liked the blazer.) "You look good, too. You always do."

She was still smiling. This was absurd, it really was, this had been all her stupid idea, but here he was, showing up like a champ. He was here because he wanted to be here, with her, even if this was the destination, because she had asked, and she nudged her foot against his ankle since the table was so tiny that it wasn't much of a stretch. "You know, when I asked you out, I kind of just assumed we'd get a taco truck or something. Street food. Something casual. And we'd walk around holding hands and realize dating's not actually that hard with someone you like. But I'm not anti-giant dessert platter."

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today_sucks
2019-05-25 07:59 pm UTC (link)

"I'm not sure I deserve a dozen pink lemonade cupcakes," Clint said, and it had nothing to do with self esteem issues and everything to do with the fact that that sounded like the absolute worst combo of flavors to put into a cake or something cake adjacent.

Well. Maybe he'd try just one.

"You do," Clint confirmed, although he didn't really need to, surely Natasha was aware she was beautiful. And certainly she must have been aware that Clint thought so, too. Then again, a reminder about those sorts of things never hurt, it was true. He liked the braid, he liked the fact that she'd just gone and made his hoodie her hoodie now. "Thanks," he said anyway, going a little pink while his fingers moved awkwardly to his lapels in order to straighten them out. Not like he was fancy here, he was wearing a Hawkeye t-shirt underneath it after all. But still. It was definitely worth it if it made Nat smile like that.

He leaned a little more on the table, stretching just so, so that his knees weren't quite rubbing against the top of the table anymore, and he could press his ankle right up next to hers in a show of fondness that wasn't too public in a place meant for children.

"I mean, I love a food truck," Clint admitted. Because of course he did, he lived in New York and he got a big kick out of living dangerously. There was nothing more daunting than bad Street Meat. "Tacos. Pizza. Hot dogs." Okay now he kind of wanted those things. "But this is fine too. It's like an eleven on the weird scale and that's kinda great. We've got time for those other things. For now, let's just think about poor Liz and whether or not she'd also enjoy this giant dessert platter."

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hourglasss
2019-05-27 03:06 pm UTC (link)

"Alas, poor Liz," Natasha agreed. "Thank God for Uncle Clint, his girlfriend, and their mini muffins." She wiggled one eyebrow, adding nothing more about it, because after all, they'd promised no salacious jokes in this very child-centric environment. But she'd promised nothing about an eyebrow wiggle. Honestly, she was the worst, miracle he even liked her at all.

She smiled at the thought, though, we've got time for those other things, and she stretched a hand across the table, tapping her fingers to his wrist once for just - an added gesture, even if his ankle was comfortably tucked against hers. She didn't know how to explain it, the...context of this. What it meant that they were both a little nervous, that he'd tried to fancy up his outfit, the way she felt absurdly pleased by him telling her she was pretty.

He was right; Natasha did know she was beautiful. She was aware of the effect she could have, particularly when it was something she orchestrated and highlighted and intended to use. It had been one of the earliest lessons of her life, and by now, it was nothing she was vain about, it was only a fact. But it was different to hear it like this, different when she hadn't tried to highlight it, different to be called pretty. Different to hear it from Clint. Maybe for the same reason he'd gone pink when she'd told him the same.

When the waitress swung by - she'd clearly been briefed on their situation by the hostess, if the way she was looking at Clint as though he was a living saint walking the earth was any indication - Natasha smiled a brave, trembling little smile. "Two of all the desserts, please. And if we could get a pot of coffee instead of tea, maybe? What do you think, hon?" Looking around at all the miniature cinnamon buns and tiny cookies, honestly, Natasha felt like they should probably get four of everything to make it count.

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today_sucks
2019-05-30 12:53 am UTC (link)

Eyebrow waggling was acceptable but only in small amounts. And only because they were both probably just the most awful of people. It couldn't be helped though. Not when the Mini Muffins loomed so closely. He stuck his tongue out at her because they were in a place for five year olds, so it was only fair that he acted that age, too.

The moral of the story here was that they were both superheroes. Trained spies and assassins and had seen all the weirdest shit and more that the worlds could through at them, but neither of them really knew how to deal with being called pretty, even if they were both well aware that they liked it coming off of their person's lips. And that seemed good enough. Clint liked watching most anything come off of Natasha's lips. Hearing it was good too, of course.

"Maybe three of everything," Clint said, and he actually had the gall to rub at his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe just to have a few things to take home. See what shakes out best with Lizzie?" He then tried his best to look a little worried. "Kids. You never know, right? And --uh. Yeah. Coffee please. That's not a thing we're trying for her. I just prefer it." The laugh he delivered was perfect and fake and it should not have been a turn on to be doing low key role playing in a place like this, and it wasn't exactly, but he saw a lot of potential in it.

Once the waitress was off to get them a million things that were probably miniature, Clint rested his elbow on the table and offered a goofy sort of smile.

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hourglasss
2019-06-01 05:53 am UTC (link)

Potential, that was a good word for it, and it made Natasha happy the same way she could tell that it was working on Clint, too. There had been no discussion, no pre-planning, and - even if it was only a kids' restaurant, not even corporate espionage (the easiest kind of espionage), there was something that just felt good about it. How easy it was for the two of them to fall into sync, to trust the other and match what they were given, to build on it. Just the jump and the assurance that the other person would catch them, like success was all but assured.

She had missed this. She hadn't realized how much she had missed this in the last few years, what it felt like to just be best friends. To have fun with each other. Though - maybe that was part of the purpose of a date, too, they were supposed to be fun things to do. Even first dates with all the where'd you grow up what do you do how many siblings any hobbies what are your worst political opinions small talk they entailed.

They'd been past that for years. It made her smile back at him, one that probably could have also qualified as goofy.

"Okay," she said. "So we've got coffee and dessert on the way. We've already done the first kiss. And jumped a couple steps past it. We already know there's not going to be any will he call? mystery at the end of this, because you're very much mine." She grinned, nudging his ankle again. "I think we're great at dating, we're nailing this. Should have been doing this for years, I can't imagine why I never gave one of these a real shot."

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today_sucks
2019-06-06 04:18 pm UTC (link)

Well, that was the best part about dating someone you already knew and really liked as a person. It could be dating just as much as it was being best friends. They could be both at the same time -- and Clint very much thought that was what this was. Just two best friends out on a date to eat children's cookies amongst a landscape of pink, pink and more pink.

It was fun.

He didn't know at all why'd he'd been nervous to begin with. That'd been stupid of him. The kind of stupid that only came with overthinking a situation. Which, okay, was something he did a lot of, but still. He probably shouldn't have in this instance. Even if Natasha liked the blazer.

"Right?" He asked, grinning stupid and besotted at Natasha, because he couldn't not, he had no idea how not to at this point. Every look he gave her was just rife with adoration. "We're great at this. Experts. I'm pretty sure we could write a book about it. You know, to help people who aren't nearly so lucky."

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