Hey guys! Long time no see! I promised you an epilogue of sort so here we go…though I'm not sure that is counts as an epilogue so much as lots of Clintasha fun. I'm gonna say its maybe a year-year and a half after the last chapter…I really need to write out a time line…I mean what? Of course I know exactly what I'm doing and totally not flying by the seat of my pants…. : )
I've got two stories planned right now. One is going to be a lot like Strays (which you should go read if you haven't yet just saying) and just explore their relationship through a series of vignettes. The other is going to be more of an action adventure story.
So here we go…
Rough hands shoved Clint into the wall as soon as the door clicked shut behind them. It took all of his will power to fight his instinct that screamed to put his unexpected assailant down hard. He didn't exactly have the best information on the situation to go about shooting first and asking questions later.
Thanks for that Tasha
Before his brain could fully process the situation, hot lips pressed firmly against his, swallowing his cry of surprise. Bright blue eyes stared back at him in amusement and fluttered closed as a tongue pushed its way into his mouth. An exaggerated moan followed.
The whole situation was completely ridiculous.
It was embarrassing. No doubt this was Natasha twisted revenge for the incident.
Rule #1 in the SHIELD survival handbook: Never ever, ever, piss of a certain redheaded Russian Assassin.
Rough hands yanked at his belt, pulling it undone.
Three weeks earlier…
"I'm telling you, we have to angle it the other way."
Natasha didn't seem the type to be into interior decorating, but her humble apartment was slowing becoming a work of art. She didn't have much time between missions, but whatever time she did have was spent carefully sorting through paint chips and picking out furnishings.
He'd added a little addition as a house warming gift. His reward? Every time she found some new must have item, he was forced to help move it in.
Case in point.
"oof." The overstuffed sofa slipped from his grasp and sliding down the stairs to knock him off balance and made him to fall back a few feet into the wall of the stairwell; he only just managed to bring his feet up to stop the damn thing from squishing him.
"Why couldn't you have gotten an apartment in a building with an elevator?" he grumbled as he climbed to his feet, staring down at the offending couch with distain.
"Quit whining Barton, you're being such baby about this. Surely the mighty Hawkeye can manage the simple task of moving a couch. Regular people do this all the time."
"Yeah well, we're not regular people." She shot him an annoyed looked. Sighing, he hoisted up the ridiculously heavy couch once again. "You could've gotten an apartment on the ground floor. Hell, even the second or third, but no, you have to get the top floor of a frickin eight story building!" He grunted dramatically as he readjusted his grip on the damned thing. She ignored him as she carefully guided the couch around the corner.
When all was said and done, Clint collapsed onto the plush couch as soon as it was in place, sighing in relief. Maybe it was just because he was tired, but the damn thing might just have been the most comfortable thing he had ever encountered. No wonder she had her heart set on the damn thing.
He looked up to find her scrutinizing its position in the room. Staring at the piece of furniture and then glancing around the room as if to find a better place for it. Clint rolled his eyes.
"Jeez Tasha, stop with the Martha Stewart bullshit and sit the hell down! The couch is fine where it is."
"You don't kn-you know what, never mind, it doesn't matter. Get over here." He reached out and pulled her down onto the couch. "Come enjoy the spoils of my hard labor."
She settled against the armrest, and then after only a moment's hesitation, stretched out her legs to drape them across his lap. He smiled broadly at her as she visibly relaxed, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back against the armrest. She sighed in contentment, closing her eyes with a relaxed, barely visible smile gracing her features.
Silence stretched out between them as they sat there comfortably in each other's company. He laid a hand on her knee to trace circles along her skin. She watched him though hooded eyes for a minute before allowing them to drift shut.
Moving a couch and then spending a lazy afternoon relaxing on said couch was probably the most normal thing they had ever done together. For a short moment in time Clint could pretend they were just a regular couple quibbling over little details of life.
He smiled lazily at her, and as if she could sense it, the barest of smiles tugged at her lips. He couldn't help it; he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She tensed up immediately, snapping her eyes open and drawing in a deep breathe.
He pulled back slightly, giving her a little room, but not leaving her space entirely. He met he gaze purposefully, asking permission to do it again. She stared at him for brief moment, taking in his proximity. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked at her as he realized he'd simply surprised her; it wasn't often he could take her so completely off guard.
Before she could conjure up a respectable glare, he stole her lips once more, kissing her soundly and trailing his hand down her neck. She hummed against his lips, relaxing against him. He felt her fingers thread through his hair, scraping lightly across his scalp and smiled happily against her mouth.
He shifed down slightly, wrapped an arm around her waist and rested his head on her chest, pillowed against her breast. It was the sappy kind of thing that people did in romantic movies, but he closed his eyes anyways to listen the steady drum of her heart.
Now this; this was the most comfortable place in the world. He drifted off, lulled to sleep by the gentle caress of her fingers though his hair and down his neck. He could definitely get used to this.
He woke a few hours later, just as the afternoon sun was set low in the sky and casting an orange glow thought the window and causing Natasha's hair to shine like golden fire.
Shaking himself out of a daze, he extricated himself carefully from her embrace, trying and failing at not waking her. He made his way to the small kitchen. Natasha sat up to watch him check her cupboards and fridge for something edible, rubbing sleepily at her eyes.
"Jesus woman, you know there's such a thing as a grocery store? You don't have to live off of crappy Chinese food."
She shrugged dismissively. Standing up gracefully, as if she were the queen of England rising from her hrone, she left him alone for a few moments as she disappeared in to the next room.
That was when it caught his eye. Shiny and expensive looking.
Of course she would have one of these. The little espresso snob.
So he set about to make her the best damn cup of coffee she had ever tasted, figuring it shouldn't be too hard because she's the one who picked out the coffee and the fancy machine should help.
Things when downhill from there…
Clint weaved his way through the smoky room to the bar where all types of unsavory people mingled, smoking, drinking, and gambling. He found a spot at the bar, ordered a drink, and casually scanned the room while he sipped his beer.
His sharp eyes found her leaning over a pool table to line up a shot and his stomach gave a little leap. He hadn't seen her in a few weeks, and last time they'd been in the same room, she'd been so mad he thought she might actually kill him.
She got put on a longer assignment and he hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye. Then, out of the blue, she contacted Coulson to request assistance. She hadn't specified, just said she needed another pair of boots on the ground and asked specifically for Clint.
He couldn't help the burst of pride and hope that welled up in his chest at the thought. She was asking for help, his helped. For Natasha, that couldn't have come easy. Maybe she wasn't angry with his anymore. He had offered to buy her a new cappuccino machine or whatever the hell it was called, of her choosing after all. Maybe she'd cooled down enough to accept the offer.
She pouted as she missed her shot. A beast of a man lifted the stick from her and made some chauvinistic remark as he slapped her behind. She gave the guy a coy smile, but Clint knew she probably would rather slam his face in the nearest hard surface.
She leaned in close to the behemoth just as he pulled back to take his shot. He faltered as she whispered something particularly dirty into ear, and sent the cue ball flying off the table. Electric blue heels, skinny jeans, leather halter top, and extremely kissable lips, the poor bustards didn't stand a chance.
He watched as she easily mopped up and collected her bounty. She caught sight of him and a Cheshire grin spread across her face. An honest to God, light up the eyes, smile; she practically beamed at him.
Thinking back on it later, he really should have known better.
She sashayed her way over to him, the smile never leaving her face.
"Hello darling," she practically purred as she kissed each of his cheeks and leaned in close, pressing her body into his side. God help him, but the thought crossed his mind that maybe she already had this job all wrapped up. Maybe she'd forgiven him for the debacle in her apartment a couple of weeks ago, and maybe she just wanted to drag him into the back room and…you know….He would totally be okay with that.
He cleared his throat thickly and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "So, sweetheart, what do you need form me?"
"Oh honeybun," she smiled almost wickedly, "I just need you to be extra charming and clever." Then she pinched his fucking cheek.
What the hell?
Before he could ask her, she waved the behemoth over. The guy came thundering over, sloshing a large beer stein and laughing heartily.
"Vaughn, this is my friend I was telling you about." She gave Clint a quick peck on the cheek and a playful wink and then left him alone with the monster of a man.
There was an awkward pause as they sized each other up. Clint put his game face on. He was here to make some kind of business deal maybe? She could've at least given him something to go on.
"Why don't we take this somewhere more private?" He asked, behemoth…Vaughn, who nodded in agreement and led him to a back room. He threw a confused look at Natasha as he passed her. She raked he eyes down his body and then back up to meet his gaze and raise her eyebrows pointedly.
He had a bad feeling about this….
Rough hands shoved Clint into the wall as soon as the door clicked shut behind them…
"I hate you," Clint mumbled from behind his tooth brush as he scrubbed out his mouth for the umteenth time. "That was just plain cruel." Spit. "The worst part is that you didn't even need me to be a distraction at all!"
Natasha lounged on the hotel bed, grinning like a fucking Cheshire cat. She wasn't even trying to hide it. Normally genuine smile from her was enough to turn his insides to mush, but he fought back the feeling, remembering that he'd just about been molested because of her.
"Nonsense, I did need him out of the way. Inconveniently I wasn't quite his type. You were crucial to the entire operation. I could possibly have pulled it off without you. I knew you could handle yourself."
He glowered at her, trying to convey the intensity of his anger and indignation. She merely laughed at him.
"You look like a grumpy kitten."
He growled, eliciting another giggle from the nefarious assassin, and spit one final time into the sink. With a huff he stormed over to the other bed and plopped down, presenting her with his back.
Not a moment later the bed dipped behind him as she crawled onto it behind him. She leaned over him, letting her hair fall into his face.
"Now, I know you aren't really that mad at me." Her voice was soft and her lips teased around the shell of his ear, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. Intent on pouting for a little longer at least, he pulled away and buried his head under a pillow.
"Fine," she laughed and the bed moved as she stood up, "have it your way." She left him to brood in peace. Finally.
A few minutes later, something light landed on his back, and to his shame he jumped in surprise. He sat up to find out what it exactly Natasha felt she needed to throw at him and something else nailed him right in the face. He stared down dumfounded at the lacy article of clothing. He looked up just in time to see Natasha slip into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar in invitation.
At the sound of the shower coming on and the curtain being pulled closed, he completely forgot why he was upset. Leaping up from the bed he hopped from foot to foot, pulling off his boots and socks and shed the rest of his cloths in record time.
He stepped into the shower behind her, wrapping her in his arms and nuzzling the smooth skin of her neck.
"Is this your way of saying 'I'm sorry'?" he moved his lips along her shoulder.
"Ha!" she scoffed, "You totally deserved it."
She turned quickly in his arms and swallowed up his protest with an aggressive kiss, and then proceeded to make him forget all his woes.
Well…there you have it.
As always please be so kind as to leave a review letting me know all your thoughts and feelings.(on the story that is…don't go weeping about you boyfriend or anything, you can do that in my Tumblr Ask Box)