Natalia (the_black_widow) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-02-17 20:47:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, clint barton (hawkeye), natasha romanoff (black widow) |
Is that a euphemism, or are you seriously offering me a dental plan?
Who: Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton
What: Donuts and job offers
When: Recent
Where: Clint's place
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13
There was a thing that Nat liked to do. It happened more in the dreams, but sometimes it came out here. Dropping in to check on people. Seeing how they were doing. The people that were her people anyway (she still didn’t know how Bucky felt and couldn’t begin to figure out a way to approach him.) But Clint was still ‘hers’ like Steve and Sam were and so she dropped in to check on him with a bag of donuts and a twinkle in her eye.
Clint didn’t remember giving Natasha his address, so she was hardly the first person he expected to see on his doorstep.
Then again, it was Natasha.
It wasn’t morning, but that hardly mattered, because donuts--he could smell them, and see them through the white bag that was slowly turning translucent thanks to the grease. You could take the boy out of the Midwest, as the saying went, but Clint’s love for greasy food at which most Californians would turn their noses up was a preference he had no desire to change.
“I was expecting beer,” he said, by way of greeting, and gestured her inside.
Lucky pushed his way around Clint’s leg to sniff their guest’s shoes before sitting down, expectantly.
He smelled the donuts too.
Nat gave him a big grin, and offered up the bag with one hand. She was always careful to make sure he could see her face. "I brought some treats for Lucky too. I figured you'd already have the beer. Beer for donuts."
She reached her hand out to ruffle Lucky's fur.
“...you’re not wrong,” Clint agreed. Of course he had beer. For anything. Including donuts. “Give me a minute to put in my ears,” he added. “Lucky--be a good host.”
Beer for donuts was of course a fair trade, as far as Nat was concerned. She pet Lucky's head and nodded at Clint, before dropping the donuts on a table, hopefully out of Lucky's reach. "These aren't for you, boy, but I've got something for you!"
Once Nat was inside, with Lucky playing host, Clint moved to the bedroom to grab his hearing aid. When he switched it on, he could hear Nat with Lucky even from the other room. Stark technology really was amazing.
He came back in, his expression amused. “You’ll spoil him,” he teased, and moved past her to the kitchen to grab two beers. It was happy hour somewhere, right?
“And I’m guessing you’re here because of the text?”
“Wanted to see how you were doing,” she replied, taking one of the beers and moving to sit on the couch. “If you’ve been going out and having fun without me.” She opened the beer and took a swig before adding. “And the whole dream thing.”
Clint trailed after her, back to the living room, amused at how she made herself at home even though, to his knowledge, she’d never been there before.
“Define ‘fun’,” he countered, eyebrow raised. “You’re the one kicking ass and taking names, from what I understand.”
"You know, shooting arrows at people who deserve to have arrows in them." She snuggled back into the couch and put her boots up on his coffee table. "And for the record I'm with HR. I don't technically know what you're talking about."
She swiveled her head and flashed him a teasing smile.
Clint hummed thoughtfully and settled across from her on his recliner. The bag of donuts was on the table, and he pulled one out. “Well, you are a human resource,” he quipped, before taking a large bite. “Question is...why me?”
“There aren’t many people out there I can trust,” Natasha replied. She kept her tone light and airy. “And you’re one of the few people who shares some of my more unusual dreams.” The one where the Avengers came into being much sooner, where she was seventy years old and her body not entirely her own. Where the Black Widow’s ledger was much, much redder.
That earned another thoughtful hum as Clint chewed, and a knowing glance, hearing what she wasn’t saying. It went without saying that their shared dreams had created a bond not unlike the one they shared in the dreams--without the romance, which was something that he presumed they were both okay with.
“What was your life like here?” he asked, curious. “Before the dreams.” He wasn’t sure if Natasha would tell him, but he’d like to think he’d earned at least that much trust.
Nat pursed her lips, the question clearly one she was uncomfortable with. But she had just told him she trusted him. She took a bite of a donut, then washed it down with a beer before speaking. "Some similarities. Recruited into the Russian FSB. Earned a nick name. Director at the Agency turned me, and I was more than willing for it."
Clint reached for another donut. “You can’t catch a break in any universe,” he observed. He needed her to know that it didn’t change his loyalty to her, or his opinion of her. “I was kind of hoping you were a ballerina.”
"Not for real." She sighed. "I wouldn't have minded that though. Especially after the dreams." She wet her lips, grateful that there was no change. "You remember how Steve and the others got stuck in a pocket universe? And some of the shenanigans with alternate people? I've had dreams of a different universe than ours, too. I think Tony dreams of that place."
“I noticed he doesn’t remember me--not me me, anyway,” Clint agreed. He was pretty okay with Tony not remembering how he and Natasha had gone after him, at first. “So, are you...I’ve always gotten the impression that you’re you you, but you have dreams of Tony’s universe too?”
Nat nodded, licking her fingers clean. “I dreamed our universe first. Bits and pieces and then it started to pile on. I barely had a chance to really understand what was happening… I stopped being the Natalia of the FSB and became the Black Widow. The Avenger, the agent of SHIELD. And then I started dreaming about…” She waved her hand in Tony’s building’s general direction. “Different story, same theme.”
“Huh.” Clint finished his second donut and then sat back, sipped his beer. “Trust you to be complicated,” he mused. “So tell me about this job offer. Unless you’re serious about not hiring me over the fishnets thing.” He smiled, slow and appreciative, and seriously enjoying poking at the lethal Russian with metaphorical sticks.
“Maybe if you wore the fishnets,” Natasha mused. She studied him with a faux lazy expression on her face. “But I work for an agency that deals with all the strange dream-related occurrences around the county. Sometimes things happen. Aliens. Monsters. One of these days I’m expecting Ultron or the Mandarin.”
Clint nodded. It made sense--if they were here, in this universe, why wouldn’t the bad guys be? And if the bad guys were here, could he sit idly by?
He’d never been able to before.
“I’m pretty much just a silent partner for the non-profit at this point,” he admitted. “I get trotted out like a show dog for events. Barney’s been taking more of a role--has a better brain for business.” And a better tolerance for everything that went with it. “And I’m building a range,” he said, apropos of nothing, but not. “At the winery. Targets. Obstacles. More of a course, I guess.”
What that translated to was--he had the time to be available, and was working towards being ready.
Natasha nodded her head. “Sounds like something that might come in handy. I know Logan has something out at this outreach center, but its better to have our own thing.” She straightened. “We do have dental. Your name can be on the list.” An asset, still giving him free reign to do what he wants to do.
“Is that a euphemism, or are you seriously offering me a dental plan?” Clint asked--because it paid to be sure.
As for the rest, he shrugged. “If you need me, I’m there.”
It was that simple. They had each other’s backs, no matter how this universe might differ from the one--ones--they dreamed.
Natasha just flashed a grin at him, and popped a donut into her mouth. She chewed thoroughly, then answered, “I guess you’re going to have to find out.”