hasthehighground: leaned back casually, expression neutral (yeah I'm cool)
[personal profile] hasthehighground

After Clint writes his notes but before he comes back from the bar, he grabs some bread, eggs, and maple syrup, because when a man promises French toast he's sure as hell gotta deliver.

There's no noise from the bedroom, and the clock says it's still the same time he left, so Clint grabs a sheet of note paper and writes a third note. Knowing Natasha has something on her is going to calm his nerves a bit.

This letter takes a lot longer to make than the other ones, because Clint has no idea what jobs Natasha is going to take in the near future or who he should pretend to be for the letter. He edits, and re-edits, several times in his head before settling on what he finally writes down:

 

Sweetheart,

Did you find the restaurant? (It's the one where you can see all the stars outside the window.) Because if you did, read on...

I first came here awhile ago, and I thought of you. The show is beautiful, and even the patrons have interesting stories to tell.

I never saw any trouble while I was there, but the security team wears silver badges if you need them. They should all speak English.

I left something for you at the bar, under my full first name. Go open it, and buy yourself a drink on me. I'll be there as soon as I can.

Waiting to see you,

C.
 



Clint narrows his eyes at it, scanning it back over. Yeah, he's pretty sure that's soppy enough. Romance has never been his strong suit. He folds it and unfolds it a couple dozen times to give it a worn look, while listening to the early morning news, then sticks a salt shaker on it to weigh it down.

He starts work on breakfast, once he hears the shower start up. The only thing worse than no french toast is cold french toast.

Date: 2013-02-12 12:07 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] redintheledger
Natasha? Is not particularly a morning person.

But she's slept in, had a shower, blown dry her hair, and stolen one of his shirts, and she could possibly even pass for human.

(Pants are for the weak.)

(as are bras.)

(...so, maybe she's wearing a skirt.)

"That smells amazing."
Edited Date: 2013-02-12 12:12 pm (UTC)

Date: 2013-02-12 12:39 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] redintheledger
She smiles at him, slow and pleased, the expression soft around the edges. She takes his hand in hers, and brushes over his knuckles with her thumb before lifting his hand and kissing it, lightly, as a knight would his lady's hand.

"Your bed is ridiculously comfortable. I may have to confisicate it, for the greater good."

Date: 2013-02-13 06:07 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] redintheledger
"Telling would be breaking the code of silence for all Masters of the Ancient Art of Paperwork," she says, solemnly.

Date: 2013-02-13 06:39 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] redintheledger
"It's the only way to be sure," she quips, sliding her arms off the counter to make her way into the kitchen itself.

She's been friends with the man for years - she can read that undercurrent of unease. That he hasn't told her yet means that it's nothing immediately life-threatening. And yet...

"You okay?"

Date: 2013-02-13 07:08 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] redintheledger
She turns, takes a plate, and her eyes don't leave his face.

"Weird?"

Date: 2013-02-13 08:50 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] redintheledger
She pauses, and then carefully takes the note from him. "Anniversary, or you just felt like being fluffy?" she asks, because reports? You don't ask about.

Of course then she runs into the issue of only having two hands and no additional tentacles, so the note is placed down on the counter before she finishes drowning toast in syrup.

Fluffy and weird might, actually, be in-character for their covers, she muses.

Date: 2013-02-13 08:57 am (UTC)
redintheledger: (another pretty face)
From: [personal profile] redintheledger
"I've seen you flirt in bars. You are definitely lazy."

Date: 2013-02-13 09:14 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] redintheledger
This look, Barton?

This is deep amusement.

Deep, cackling, silent, laughter at you.

Granted, it's a look around a mouthful of french toast, so the power of the mental laughter might be countered, just a little.

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hasthehighground: In SHIELD gear, looking serious and tired (Default)
Clint Barton

February 2017

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