Fake!PFSB for Natasha

[hasthehighground]

Following on from this post.

In the rafter over her head, there's a guy in civvies reading a book (something old, battered, and by Louis L'amour) and drinking coffee out of a thermos.

Not that she doesn't know that-- one thing he likes about Natasha is that she can be trusted to look up. It's been a long couple days; it's nice to just relax. Clint figures they'll actually talk when he gets a refill, or if she gets bored.

Comments

[redintheledger]

"If you ever catch the one with the flying tree and the pink creatures with tails and the singing sun, don't worry, you aren't high, you're actually seeing it."

A quick smile as backstory unfolds on the screen.

"Though that may not help."

[hasthehighground]

"...I don't want to ask how you figured this out," Clint says, suspicious and amused.

When he glances back to the screen, evil catsuit lady and Snake Eyes' evil brother are up.

[redintheledger]

Wry, "'The face of evil'? That's a little...overly dramatic."

[hasthehighground]

"Breakups are rough," Clint says, before falling silent to watch the quick-cut action scenes.




"Wait, the protagonist can't be worth millions of dollars yet, he barely got any training."

[redintheledger]

"Amazing what insurance you can get for chiselled good looks," she says, tilting her head slightly as chaos in Parisian streets is...chaotic and oddly bloodless.




"Goodbye, Eiffel Tower!"

[hasthehighground]

Clint's laughing.

"Okay, movie, you win. Not as many explosions as I remembered, but melting the Eiffel Tower does make up for a lot."

[redintheledger]

"Now, if the heroes will just get arrested..." she says cheerfully.

Alas, their General Hawk comes to rescue them, looking sad.

Given Fury would have given ripped them a new one, Natasha finds herself not particularly caring.

[hasthehighground]

"Maybe we could switch bosses for a day. Actually they probably wouldn't survive that."

Pause.

"You know, I kind of wonder why she hasn't killed protagonist yet."

[redintheledger]

"Because then the movie would have to be original?" she asks, eyeing the screen where Duke is telling Ana what Ana used to be like.





"That is no military funeral I've ever been to."

[hasthehighground]

"Wow, yeah," Clint agrees, staring at the funeral which is empty except for Ana. "Maybe it's just his angsty memory version?"



"Oh, right, their hideaway is under the ice. Because that never shifts or moves or has polar bears."

[redintheledger]

"I...don't understand why anyone would willingly surround themselves with freezing water and ice," says the woman who spent some formative years in a Russian orphanage.

"Isn't it funny, with the entire balance of power in the world about to shift, a couple of guys can still have a stare down over who gets the girl," says McCullen on the screen, and Natasha actually finds herself in agreement when he gets headbutted by the protagonist.

And then in even more agreement as the protagonist gets his ass kicked for it.

[hasthehighground]

The interesting thing about my Neo-Vipers is they still think the same thoughts they always did, they just can't act on them anymore. Instead, they do what I want.

"Huh."

McCullen continues on in his villain speech, all sheer-elegance-in-its-simplicity. Clint's not really paying attention -- not that he doesn't appreciate a good villain speech, he's just comparing and contrasting how the Neo-Vipers work to how... something else did.

[redintheledger]

Natasha is regretting suggesting this movie. She has been, on and off, for a little while, but now...




Maybe she needs to go and spend some time at the target range. That's a contained environment. Focused. Violent. Can't hurt any body.

That'd be sensible.




"...did he just have to explain a kind of gun to a group of elite soldiers?"

[hasthehighground]

Clint watches her for several long moments, thinking.

He pauses the movie, and puts his makeshift plate on the table. He nudges her leg, slightly, and slides carefully to fill in the him-sized space on the couch. Bruises suck.

Not enough to stop him from shifting to kiss her, hand to her chin. Firm, but more gently than not because, god knows, he's not the only one here with bruises.

[redintheledger]

It's not as if she didn't see where this was leading, when he started to move. She moves around him, letting him sit comfortable, leaning up to meet him.

She had a moment of tension, of I've been compromised running through her mind.

But hasn't she, in the end, been compromised by him since she accepted his offer of redemption?





She curls her hand around the back of his neck, and kisses him back. The sheer gentleness is unnerving, even as it also calms her, steadies her heart.

When the kiss breaks, she leans her head against his, and just spends a moment breathing.

He's here. He's not under Loki's spell. He's here, and she curves her hand around his arm just to make sure.

[hasthehighground]

As tired as he is, he is in many ways desperately glad -- that she's here, that she's alive that he didn't --

He gave away her secrets, and he still can't find it in himself to tell her. Not now, not-- yet. Loki's not a current threat.

"Hey," he says to her, in the quiet. "You never told me how you got your intel on cartoons."

He has no idea how to reassure her, so. Next best option.

[redintheledger]

There is a ghost of a smile.

"Got asked to mind the neighbour's kids once, a few years back. I thought the TV would distract them. It was...illuminating."

Pause.

"So, sometimes, I...turn on the TV in the mornings and...watch in morbid fascination."

[hasthehighground]

Clint knows, from books he's read, how people think master assassins probably think-- that how to kill someone is always at the forefront of their minds. It's not, really. It comes up pretty rarely; the knowledge is there, immediately accessible, but not important unless it's important.

Despite that, Clint's well aware even now that 24 hours ago he wouldn't have hesitated in this position. Same Natasha, same Clint (Loki-bound, but same brain same instincts same memories, just totally other). He can still see the thought patterns even though they're not the ones he's settled in.

It rattles him.

"I'll have to keep that in mind," he says, and presses his lips against the corner of her smile.

[redintheledger]

There is a quip to be said, right there on the tip of her tongue.

She kisses him instead, brief and not quite so gentle.




"Let's go some place. Once he's gone. Let's just...take off some place for a few weeks."

[hasthehighground]

"Yeah," he says, after a moment. "Yeah, that would be -- great."

The boss won't mind. Probably. If he does, ... Clint's just about ready to say 'tough'.

"Hate t'say it, 'Tasha," he says, straightening up from her and covering a yawn with his hand, "but if you give me like two more minutes I'm going to pass out, here."

[redintheledger]

Her smile is crooked, amused, but the worry has faded from her eyes. The emotion itself hasn't vanished, but it's not visible.

"Good thing we rented a room with an actual bed, then."

She's too wired to sleep, but she can curl up next to him and be still for a while.

[hasthehighground]

Yeah yeah yeah, see what she'd be like if she'd been up 72 hours before her last night's sleep. And was like five years older. (It matters!)

"I love it when we think ahead," he agrees, breathing out a laugh.

He stands, snagging his muffin to set on the bedside table as a waking-up snack, and grins at her, traipsing backwards and bedwards until he hits the side, tosses the muffin lightly and accurately to the bedside table, and flops backwards.

Give him a moment, he'll regain his dignity.

Any second now.

[redintheledger]

"Uh-uh, bad move there, Barton," she says, a little mocking as she puts her foot up on the bed to take off her ankle-holster.

"Unless you want to sleep with a knife in your back."

Unlike Natasha, who is sensibly taking off her weapons and her belt, putting some away in the drawer. Leaving out her gun, within very easy and automatic reach.

It's not paranoia if people really do want to kill you.

[hasthehighground]

"The mattress is so soft, though," Clint says, sitting up.

He's really not very armed, compared to her. One gun, on his dresser, and a couple of knives. (And his utility knife, of course, but that doesn't really count as a weapon. Except when it does.)

The holsters get tucked into the drawer, as do the knives. Have you ever got grasping for a weapon on the bed side table and damn near cut your fingers off? Clint hasn't, but that's because he learns from other people's mistakes.

He moves the pillows out, and lays down, watching her. Louis L'amour's on the coffee table, but if she'd wanted him she would've picked him up.

Also, he's not really feeling like sleeping under the covers at the moment, but there's a loose blanket if Natasha wants it.

[redintheledger]

She pulls the blanket within easy reach, but doesn't cover herself with it yet. Instead, she lays down on the bed, stomach to the mattress and forehead resting on her arms, and groans.

"Ohhhh, god. Remind me to tell Stark that I've found something better than his couch," she says, talking into the mattress.