Natalia (the_black_widow) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-05-10 15:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, clint barton (hawkeye), natasha romanoff (black widow) |
"Are you crazy? Breaking and entering?"
Who: Natasha and Clint
What: Clint buries himself deeper. By sneaking into Tasha's window. At night. At least his face isn't visible?
When: Last night
Where: Tasha's place
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Natasha opened her window a bit, to let in a breeze. She was puttering around her apartment in a pair of red panties and a half-cinched green robe. What? People don't really walk around their apartments in sexy lingerie when alone at night! She'd done that in a movie once.
Clint was technically making things worse, but he wasn't thinking clearly at the moment. Besides playing babysitter to a screwed up hysterical kid who should know better, he was also playing kitchen cop and trying to keep himself from being cooked out of house and home by someone who thought it was funny to wander around naked because 'we're all guys here, no big deal', and then the tabloids had hit. So, he was wearing black and climbining up the fireescapes to Natasha's apartment window.
And the cameras that were trying to get a shot of her topless were following! Natasha hummed to herself, kneeling to pet Grumpkins, "Ivan will take care of those tabloids, don't you worry." Agh, she was talking to the cat again!
Clint hadn't actually noticed those at all, what with it being dark, and his hearing not being at all what it had been when he'd been active duty. So. Completely missed that cue there as he pulled himself onto the balcony directly below Tasha's, then started hoisting and flipping himself up and over. Where he landed with a little bit of a thud. Ow.
Tasha's head snapped up. What was that? Was that a burglar? If that was a burglar he was going to be in a world of pain very shortly! She shuffled close to the window, staying low, and crouched, waiting.
Not a burglar, no, those wouldn't be knocking, or standing there with an idiotic expression on their face like Clint was. So uh. That was probably a clue there, realy.
Tasha kicked out with her foot, hooking her leg around Clint's and tugged! He toppled over, using her legs so that she spun around on her back like a top. The next second she was straddling him, her robe fluttering to the ground nearby and a large..spoon? Yes a large spoon jabbed under his jaw.
"...Clint?!"
Clint's eyes widened considerably. He knew exactly how Tasha could kick somebody's ass when she had to, and he actually wasn't armed either. It could mean dea...well, maybe not. "Hey, Tasha." he said, trying to jerk his head around the spoon. And damn, what wasn't she wearing there? "I'm guessing this isn't a good set up to talk about the media field day, huh?"
She sat straighter, staring at him, "You really are eight." She leaned over him Perhaps to torture so she could get the window and blinds shut without anyone outside seeing, then rolled off and pulled her robe back on, "Are you crazy? Breaking and entering?"
"It...seemed like a really really good idea at the time." Clint explained, brushing himself off a little. "Should have known better than to do that with you, but I didn't think just coming over was a great idea in light of...." he grimaced. "Things."
"Things?" She disappeared into her bedroom to put on something more comfortable, emerging in sweatpants and an old work out shirt, "I'd offer you something to drink, but you can't handle the good stuff." She gave him a grin.
"Not with all the crap I'm on." Clint grinned back. "The whole media shitstorm." he admitted, ducking his head. "Hard to believe it got that out of hand that fast. How do you HANDLE that?"
"I don't. Ivan does." She walked over to the liquor cabinet. There was an old. dusty bottle without a single letter in the western alphabet. She passed it by - she was saving THAT for a special occasion. Instead she would have to do with watered down american filth that pretended to be vodka. She poured herself a glass of that and sat down next to him, "There are two ways. Step up and talk about it, or ignore it. Ivan thinks we should ignore it." She took a sip, "So do I. Trying to deny just means they think we're trying to hide something."
"That's actually a good idea." Clint nodded at her slowly. "Ivan must have superpowers though." he mused. "I mean it'd take a lot to get that done." He shook his head a little, sighed, and sat. "But yeah the rumor mill gets worse the more you do with tweets and retweets and..." he shook his head. "Not the best of ideas to talk about it, I guess."
"Da." She pointed at him with one finger from the hand that was holding the glass, "You may have done something that will help. So you are not going to be Clint. Just a mysterious admirer and a secret affair I am having. Meanwhile, you'll have an alibi and be somewhere else right now. Is there someone you can call?"
"Oh God." Clint groaned as he realized exactly who he could call right now. "Yeah, there is, actually, but that's probably going to make things even more surreal."
"How so?"
"Well, it's Oliver Queen." Clint told her, shaking his head. "You know. He'll be glad to give an alibi but find the whole thing hilarious and blast it to the internet. My other friend...well. She's probably thinking I dumped her from our not officially dating status."
"Well we do not want it blasted on the internet, that would be counter-productive!" And the other friend. Tasha groaned, "This is a fine mess. Its always the most annoying when you haven't actually DONE the thing they think you did."
"it really IS." Clint agreed, head in his hands now. "They make everything into such a production too. Impossible. Just because you have breasts..."
"Nyet, because I am famous!" She laughed, "I suppose the breasts don't help with that." She patted his arm, "Have you talked to her about the rags, yet?"
"I haven't no." Clint admitted, ducking his head. "I need to, yeah. I just don't know if...how does somebody even approach that, Tasha? Because I'm completely lost. And my home life's fucked up this week on top of that."
"So I read," She replied, dryly. Tasha lowered her head as the cat rubbed against her foot. She picked him up so she could properly pet her.....cat, "Start with the truth. We're friends. You're interested in her and sought out my advice. The tabloids saw you with me and assumed things."
"Maybe something nice to smooth things over too." Clint mused. "Flowers?" Girls like flowers, right?
"Flowers could work! Pretty jewellry. It depends on what kind of woman she is. What sort of things does she like?"
"Well, skydiving, a hilarious attempt at zumba that ended with me sitting out, parasailing, which was awesome." Clint ticked off the list. "We're more the doing things sort of people, you know?"
"Take her somewhere." Tasha tilted her head, then grinned, "Horseriding picnic."
"I like it!" Pause. "If she speaks to me again. I don't think horses are something i've ever been around." he added, amused at the thought.
"Horses are intelligent creatures, often more so than their riders. I'm sure you'll be fine." Was that a backhanded dig? That was a dig!
"Ouch, Tasha!" Clint protested, laughing as he lightly slapped the back of her head.
She laughed, swatting at his hand, "Clint! Flowers, and time alone. I think that ought to help. And the truth, at least to her."
"That sounds like a fair plan." Clint agreed. "It's so straightforward too. Why is it that I need someone else to point this out again?" he wondered, frowning. Usually he noticed details, but when it came to relationships...not so much.
"You're male."
He laughed at that and could have hugged her. "And you make everything seem doable." Pause. "Is that right for this context?"
She giggled, nodding her head, "That's right for this context, Clint. Just a little dirty sounding!"
"Let's hope nobody's bugging this place then." Clint actually glanced around like it was possible. "Who knows how much worse this could get?" Grin. "Well, I've got an amazing best friend in all of this so maybe things can settle down."
"As long as we don't see your name attached to a midnight rendevous, it will be fine. If asked I will simply say it was someone I have been seeing in secret, with more guts than sense." Grin.
"A new romantic interest? How chivalrous of you to take the heat." Clint grinned back. "And really, the way I'm dressed I could be anyone. You might even have fun with this."
I wish. Natasha sighed and shook her head, "And what sort of fun, Barton?"
"Depends on, well. Could make a nice overture if there's anybody special you wanted to clue in." He smirked.
She raised an eyebrow, "Do elaborate."
"well think about it." Clint stretched a little. "What better way to say 'hey, I'm into you' than a midnight rendevous you made up, right?"
Tasha might be having a dumb moment, but she had to ask, "How does a rendevous with another man help, exactly?"
"Well." Clint explained. "I mean if you hint that it was the specific man you're interested in, he might be intrigued and take it as in invite. You know,"
"Ah..." Tasha laughed, "That's clever. Thats very clever." She scrunched up one eye, "I don't know. He's interested in someone else. I don't want to be a bitch." But that would be so fun.
"Oh that's too bad then." Clint patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Well, maybe it won't last." Heh!
Tasha thwapped him on the shoulder, and laughed, "I'll be sure to be there for the rebound, then. Now how do you think you're going to get out of here?"
"I...might not have got that far." Clint admitted, eyedarting a little. "I suppose sneaking out again would work. I'm good at that."
She looked at him, then got up and walked into her bedroom. She came back out with a mask, "Wear this when you leave. Don't ask where I got it."
"Is that a...." Clint burst out laughing, but he took it anyway. "You're a lifesaver, you know that?"
"Da, its what I'm here for. To save lives so that men can sneak out of my apartment." She leaned down, since he was still sitting, and kissed his cheek, "Remember, be yourself and be truthful. If she is worth anything at all she'll give you a chance to explain."
"I'll remember." Clint gave her a little hug and a peck back. "Thanks so much."
"You're welcome," And she shooed him out!