In Milliways: Taking a Break with Natasha

[hasthehighground]

After lounging on the couch, they get a grab-bag of bagels and fancy cream cheese from the bar for breakfast.

("Living the high life," Clint says, pulling out a packet of cucumber dill cream cheese.

"I told you," Natasha replies, corners of her eyes crinkling as she purses her lips as if to hold in a smile. "Glamorous.")

If they were less tired, the conversation after storing their food would be longer, and Clint would be laughing into Natasha's calf as he massaged her worn legs instead of into her ear as he promised he'd take care of them in the morning before putting his hearing aids on the bedside table.

But the fact that they end up sprawled on the bed, with Natasha curled over Clint and his free hand loosely in her hair, more comfortably asleep than they would be anywhere strange alone, well. That doesn't change.

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[redintheledger]

This is what Natasha does when she wakes up: she glances at the time, and reminds herself that she doesn't have to do anything. She doesn't have to drag herself out of bed and dress up to her temporary employer's specifications, she doesn't have to wait on the people who are fucking her country over. She can roll over, and curl back up against Clint's warm, solid body, and she can go back to sleep.

So, she does.

The next time she wakes up, it's to the sound of the shower running. She briefly contemplates joining Clint in the shower, but there is a comfortable bed, and the morning sun, and it's not all that long before the water switches off.

"Morning, pretty lady."

Natasha turns, and smiles at him. "Hey you. No unexpected wormholes outside?"

"No wormholes, but rabbits."

"Rabbits."

"With polka dots," Clint adds, and he's enjoying the look on her face if she goes by his expression.

"With polka dots," she repeats.

"I saw a few tartan ones, too."

"...I think I need food before you tell more," Natasha says, and he huffs a laugh.

"Our glamorous bagels," he says, and moves over to kiss her lightly. She curls her hand around his upper-arm, and kisses him back.

"I'm pretty sure, Clint Barton," Natasha says, faux-solemn as she can, "that you mentioned something last night about taking care of us."

"I remember that," Clint says with a bit of a smile, and kisses her again. "Do you want breakfast first?"

"Breakfast later."

The bagels, after all, aren't going anywhere.

[hasthehighground]

It took some cajoling from Natasha to get Clint into the water. His non-work hearing aids aren't waterproof, for one, and for two: he wouldn't be able to hear sea monsters when he took them out. But his status as a not-coward was challenged, so he changed his mind.

He's glad he did. There haven't many any monsters (yet), and there's something really relaxing about half-floating in the water. He digs his toes into the sand at the bottom of the shallows, and watches the mountains. Clint's not sure if they're an illusion; if not, they might be interesting to explore before winter hits.

Clint catches a movement from the corner of his eye, and focuses on it immediately, before letting his gaze drift back to the mountains, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Natasha is gliding through the water, all overdone innocence, having apparently given up on her laps. She meant for him to notice, but that doesn't mean they can't pretend she's being sneaky.

So when a pair of long sleeved arms (apparently a sunburn wouldn't go with her waitressing job) loop their way around his chest, under the water, he startles dramatically. Natasha grins.

"Hey, you," Clint says, winding his fingers through her hair to pick out a twig. The difference in color between the top of her scalp, which is still dry, and the rest of her hair is pretty drastic.

She hums against his skin, pressing her face to his shoulder. He can feel her heart beating from here, slow and strong.

"Want to head back in?" he asks, and she pulls far enough away so he can catch her agreement.

In hindsight, he should've known not to turn his back on her. The glint in her eye, or plain experience.

He really deserved getting dunked.

[redintheledger]

There is pizza. Glorious, ridiculous American pizza that Natasha will grudgingly admit to missing when she's bouncing around Europe. Pizza had while curled up on the couch in their room watching...

A squid version of Iron Chef.

(It's entirely possible that Natasha has been giggling over the resignation on Clint's face just as much as the show itself.)

Then follows a movie populated by a collection of beings clearly descended from some form of predatory tree ("I think it's the tree-spirit version of Hamlet", Natasha comments, bemused.

"The only version of Hamlet I know involved lions," Clint says, slowly, squinting at the tv as the young hero - heroine? Natahsa has no idea on the gender of sentient moving tree-beings - is haunted by leaves of their parent).

By the time the credits roll, Natasha is yawning. It's the perfect time to go back to her Moscow hotel room, and all she does is hook her leg over Clint's knee.

She doesn't want to go-





Well, she thinks, that line of thought isn't going anywhere productive. Or professional.

"I guess we'd better get back to our proper timezones," she comments, and Clint looks over at her.

"Yeah," he says, but all he does is tuck one of her stray curls behind an ear. She moves to get up, and then ends up kissing him soundly.

i love you

She'd like to say that it shows a strength of character that it doesn't take them that long to make their way downstairs, and out their respective doors. Perfect professionals, that's them.

And much later, when she's back at the club, she finds it a little easier to smile at the patrons and roll with the irritations.