I hate school. Especially so close to summer. Teachers throw so much crap at us, it's ridiculous. And since it takes me 30 minutes to get to my house to school, as soon as I get home, I do my homework, eat dinner, and then go sleep and wake wake up at 5:45 and start over. Uuugh. And it doesn't help when your parents think this site is demon spawn...
and now my response to your reviews...sorry, but despite what I may have said earlier, I will not be uping the rating. Sorry. If that's what you want, type in M to the rating thingy. And yes, there are many band children on fanfiction...we have our own category under Misc. for the love of pete!
Natasha woke up slowly, and only because sunlight was hitting her face. She yawned and stretched, wriggling her toes. She felt good, and it wasn't until she realized there was someone spooned up behind her that she remembered why.
She had slept with Clint. And it had been great. But the feeling of Ohmygod I SPLEPT with my PARTNER was starting to take effect.
Clint stirred when she did, and by the time she had turned to stare in disbelief, he was awake as well.
"Morning Tasha," he smiled, still looking sleepy. Despite herself, shivers went down her spine as Natasha remembered him whispering that nickname during their...activities last night.
"Oh Clint, did we?"
"Stark can't know, none of them can know, it's against regulation..."
"We shouldn't of...but who am I kidding? We both knew this was going to happen from the very beginning..."
"So why did we wait five years?"
"Has it really been that long?"
"I don't know what's going on..."
"I think the status of "it's complicated" fits perfectly."
That night they went to a dinner Tony had reserved for himself and Pepper. It was a black tie sort of place, and now there was a whole other aspect for them going. It was a date.
Clint was dressed in the dress code, but he refused to wear a typical tux unless required for a mission. Instead, his own taste was displayed in his choice of attire: black slacks, dress shoes, a white collared shirt, a black silk tie, and a black blazer that was dressier than an normal business one. He looked like a dressed up secret service agent.
Natasha was wearing a dress she had bought with Pepper. It wasn't the green one, but it still accomplished what she wanted. Which was to make Clint, and any other man, uncomfortable at dinner. It was a black dress, with no back or sleeves or straps of any kind. It hugged her form, showing off every curve, until just below the waist where it flared out in silky folds of knee-length fabric. If she were to twirl while dancing, it would show of a bit more of her legs.
Clint purposefully didn't look at Natasha the entire ride over. She grinned. It was already working.
They had no idea what event they were at, probably some charity thing, but there was a lot of rich and powerful looking people there. From what they were able to gather, they ate dinner with a politician and his wife, an actress, a stylist from New York, an NBA player, and two casino owners.
"The battle was terrible! I wasn't there, I had a picky client in LA, thank god, but my studio is totaled!" the stylist, a bleach blond woman with lots of bangles on her wrist, was saying.
"I can't imagine what would have happened if those aliens didn't lose. I'm glad the Bronx wasn't too damaged. That's where I'm from," the NBA guy said. Natasha and Clint glanced at each other. When a conversation had started about what everybody's profession was, the stylist had started complaining about how the Hulk had smashed her business.
"Well, I'd rather have my place smashed than be ruled over by a crazy guy out of legend with his alien army," Clint said, trying to keep conversation going. Everyone seemed to remember they were there.
"Hey, you never said, so what do you do?" asked the politician, stealing a glance at Natasha.
"Well, I used to be in the special forces..."
"And I used to be a PA at Stark Enterprises..."
"Used to?" questioned one of the casino owners.
"We work for the government now." Clint said.
"Doing what?" asked the second owner.
"Oh you know, typical fed stuff. Solving cases, getting bad guys."
Dinner had been interesting. Clint had fought to keep his cool with all the men staring at Natasha. Sure, their relationship status was "complicated" but he still felt possessive over her. And once they found out they were feds, the questions didn't stop. What branch? Do you have a gun? Have you ever shot someone? Questions like those.
Thankfully, it was done now and a sort of cocktail time had started. Everyone was milling about, being sociable.
"Clint, will you get me a vodka?"
"Yeah, I'll be right back."
When Clint was gone, she heard someone address her.
"So what was all that fancy star stuff?" Natasha turned to see the man from the pool.
"It's true. Precession is real, and the north star is no longer true north because of it. Astrologers are stupid if they don't know that the zodiac changes. In other words, I find your pick up line ineffective."
"Okay then, Miss Astronomy. How about I just get you a drink?"
"Who are you?" He looked surprised.
"Really? I'm Tom Sifild, from the TV show Area 51?"
"I don't watch much TV..." she started to say, when suddenly there was a glass in front of her.
"Your drink," said Clint. He was giving poor Tom a look that said "Back off bitch she's mine." Natasha took her vodka and waited for the drama to unfold.
"Ahh...who's this?" Tom asked.
"My friend." she replied, sipping her drink.
"I did not like the way he was looking at you..." grumbled Clint as Natasha led him away from a frightened looking Tom and onto the dance floor.
"Cool your jets. Oh listen, they're playing Chopin!"
"I like it." she stated as they gently swayed to the piano chords. When the music stopped, they started to leave the floor, when a more salsa-y tune. Her eyes twinkled up at Clint.
"Might as well."
They stole the dance floor with an epic tango worthy of Dirty Dancing. It had started innocently enough, there were several other couples dancing. But they quickly established their place on the floor. Clint was finishing up the dance with dipping Natasha back. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, and while dipped down, she happened to look up, and she no one else other than Tony Stark.
When they finished their dance, people applauded politely, Stark clapping with more gusto then the rest. When they were integrated with a crowd again, he came over to them.
"Bravo! You guys were like James Bond and a Bond Girl! And people don't dance like that unless they're screwing..."
"We're not Stark," they said at the same time.
"Dang. Anyway, I'm here 'cause play times over. There's rumors of some terrorists with their attempt at super soldier serum in California, so we're assembling at my place in Malibu."
"That's fine and dandy, Stark. Now go away. We don't want people knowing we're with you." Tony left pretending to look hurt.
"Well we should pack.." Clint started.
"Thank God, this place is boring..."
Back at the hotel room, a very frustrated Tony Stark as Iron Man was trying to peek into their room. All the curtains were drawn and he couldn't hear anything...he decided to use heat vision. Still nothing! They appeared to be somewhere else at the moment...maybe they had checked out already?
"I'm glad you had the sense to pull the curtains. Stark's probably out there now," Natasha gasped quietly.
"And I'm glad you know how to block our heat signa...aaaaaahhhh Tasha!"
"Okay Clint, it's coming with us from Vegas, but it stays between us..."
"...Fine by me..."
Neither one of them had ever had to have such quiet sex, and they were finding it extremely frustrating.
I'm DONE! don't worry, I'll make a sequel probably some time later this month. Thanks everyone, you've been great. I also have a wonderful idea for a Loki story...but I probably should finish my other one first...