FIC Not Fair!
18/9/14 22:09![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shanachie_quillTitle: Not Fair!
Characters: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Fandom: Avengers 2012, Iron Man 2
Series:
Written For: LE
Prompt: This tumblr gif set
Summary: Clint has to scramble to make amends when he makes a mistake he wasn’t even aware he was capable of making. Natasha isn’t the easiest person to get forgiveness from.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Iron Man 2
Warnings: Nastasha’s aliases are well made, Clint makes amends in interesting ways, Natasha might be unstable in the best ways
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me, not making any money off this.
Author's Note: I always enjoy playing with Natasha and Clint. They are without a doubt two of my favorite characters in MCU (the other being Bucky). So when I saw this gif set… I needed to do something. I’d like to thank chrismouse and illfindmyway for their assistance. And of course to LE for giving me the gif set in the first place.
Clint poked away at the computer in Tony Stark’s office, hoping he could come up with a good excuse if the man himself came in before Natasha showed up or he finished what he was doing. He looked up as the door opened and Natasha swept in, files held tightly to her chest. “You took your time,” he commented.
“Got held up. Sorry,” she said in a clipped tone.
He blinked as the computer beeped. “I finally got through the firewall.”
“Well, there’s no hurry as long as we don’t forget the details,” she answered, setting the files down.
“Good thing we haven’t then,” he told her as he glanced down at his watch. He looked up to find her glaring at him. “Obviously I’ve done something wrong.”
“You forgot my birthday,” she snapped.
Clint blinked at her, running the information through his memory. When he’d first met Natasha she’d hadn’t had a birthday, at least not one she’d remembered, so they’d picked a date together. It wasn’t something he was likely to forget. “It’s your birthday?!” he exclaimed. He lowered his voice, “Like your real birthday? You remembered?”
“It’s my cover’s birthday, you idiot,” she snapped, her frustration clear in her voice.
“Wait. How was I supposed to know that?!” Clint questioned. He watched as she scooped up the folders she’d brought in and flounced out of the office. “You’re mad at me for forgetting your fake birthday?! But that wasn’t even in the file! Nat!” He realized she’d left the room and banged his head against the wall next to him. “But. But.” He groaned. “Ug.”
Natasha stopped short just inside the door to the apartment that was doubling as their safe house for the duration of the mission. “What did you do?” she demanded.
Clint looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. “You said it was your birthday. So I snuck out early and went shopping. Go shower and change into something a little more comfortable. By the time you finish, dinner should be ready.”
When she returned about fifteen minutes later, he was just plating the meal. She slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back for a moment. “Are you attempting to make up with me?” she asked.
“My life is infinitely better when I don’t have to worry about you knifing me in my sleep,” he answered.
She smiled against his back. “I’d never knife you in your sleep,” she told him. “I’d wait until you were awake and could fight back.”
“That’s… oddly comforting.” He motioned towards the table. “You want to eat?”
Natasha stepped gracefully towards the table, stopping when she spied the package sitting on the table, next to the frosted bottle. “What did you do?”
Clint stepped over to the table, pulling out the chair for her and waiting for her to slide into it. He brushed a kiss across her neck as she took her seat. “Nothing I wouldn’t have done if it wasn’t actually your birthday,” he answered in a low voice.
She tipped the bottle, raising her eyebrows at the sight of the label. “Jewel of Russia?” she questioned.
“You might not trust me to pick your vodka, but I can speak Russian almost as well as you, and I know how to find the right liquor store,” he answered. “It’s newish, but it’s got good…”
“If you say good reviews, I will pour the bottle over you,” she informed him.
“I won’t then,” he said. He grinned at her. “Is your dinner to your liking?”
“It’s very good, Clint,” she assured him. “You know I enjoy it when you cook. And I love your Stroganoff.” She toyed with the ribbon on the package by her plate as she continued to eat. “So what is going on?”
“It seems to me that you were rather annoyed with me earlier,” he commented. “I thought I’d try to get myself back in your good graces.”
“And what’s this?” she asked, playing with the ribbon some more.
“Why don’t you open it and see?”
Delicately, Natasha picked at the bow, pulling it open and setting it aside before carefully opening the paper. She took the lid off the box and looked down; frowning when she saw what was nestled in the paper. “Sparklies?”
“Would I dare give you something that just sparkles?” he asked.
She considered him for a minute before looking down at the necklace and bracelet. “So should I worry about it exploding on me?”
“It won’t… arbitrarily explode,” he answered with a grin. Reaching out, he fished the necklace out, letting it dangle from his fingers. “Each color is a different… well. Flashbangs, explosives, sleeping gas, narcotic, pretty much anything portable that my arrowheads are.” He reached for one of the jewels and demonstrated. “You just twist and they pop off and you can throw them, shove them down someone’s throat. Use them as needed. And we can reload it.”
Her eyes lit up as his description continued. “So a lethal charm bracelet?”
“Without the charms,” he said. “I figured it would be helpful while you were charming Stark.”
“There’s no way you had this made in a couple of hours,” she told him.
“No,” he admitted. “I was intending to give this to you for your actual birthday later this month.” He motioned for her to turn around. “Want me to put it on you?”
Natasha lifted her hair, twisting around in her chair. “So I just… rotate the stone?”
“Just turn it and pop it loose,” he instructed as he settled the pendant against her cleavage. His fingers trailed up her collarbone as he pulled his hands away.
“Who said you were forgiven that much?” Natasha asked.
“I’m much more charming than Stark,” he assured her.
“Well, I knew there was a reason I hadn’t killed you yet.”
“Should I be concerned about that? Or flattered? Or offended? Or are we back to the waiting until I’m awake to knife me?” Clint questioned.
She considered him; her head tilted to the side. “I’ll keep you. For now.”
“I’m not a stray puppy, Tasha!”
She smiled at him. “Then don’t act like one.”
“Would you like to know which stone does what?” he asked, trailing a finger down her neck and then pressing a kiss to her skin when she didn’t shrug him away.
“You can show me… tomorrow,” she replied. “Why don’t you follow me to bed now and finish making up to me?” She pushed back from the table and sauntered from the room. A minute later, her shirt came arcing back into the room; swiftly followed by her bra.
Clint eyed the dirty dishes on the stove before watching more clothes drift into the room. “Screw it,” he decided, scooping up the box the necklace had been nestled in. “I can clean up tomorrow.”
Characters: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Fandom: Avengers 2012, Iron Man 2
Series:
Written For: LE
Prompt: This tumblr gif set
Summary: Clint has to scramble to make amends when he makes a mistake he wasn’t even aware he was capable of making. Natasha isn’t the easiest person to get forgiveness from.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Iron Man 2
Warnings: Nastasha’s aliases are well made, Clint makes amends in interesting ways, Natasha might be unstable in the best ways
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me, not making any money off this.
Author's Note: I always enjoy playing with Natasha and Clint. They are without a doubt two of my favorite characters in MCU (the other being Bucky). So when I saw this gif set… I needed to do something. I’d like to thank chrismouse and illfindmyway for their assistance. And of course to LE for giving me the gif set in the first place.
Clint poked away at the computer in Tony Stark’s office, hoping he could come up with a good excuse if the man himself came in before Natasha showed up or he finished what he was doing. He looked up as the door opened and Natasha swept in, files held tightly to her chest. “You took your time,” he commented.
“Got held up. Sorry,” she said in a clipped tone.
He blinked as the computer beeped. “I finally got through the firewall.”
“Well, there’s no hurry as long as we don’t forget the details,” she answered, setting the files down.
“Good thing we haven’t then,” he told her as he glanced down at his watch. He looked up to find her glaring at him. “Obviously I’ve done something wrong.”
“You forgot my birthday,” she snapped.
Clint blinked at her, running the information through his memory. When he’d first met Natasha she’d hadn’t had a birthday, at least not one she’d remembered, so they’d picked a date together. It wasn’t something he was likely to forget. “It’s your birthday?!” he exclaimed. He lowered his voice, “Like your real birthday? You remembered?”
“It’s my cover’s birthday, you idiot,” she snapped, her frustration clear in her voice.
“Wait. How was I supposed to know that?!” Clint questioned. He watched as she scooped up the folders she’d brought in and flounced out of the office. “You’re mad at me for forgetting your fake birthday?! But that wasn’t even in the file! Nat!” He realized she’d left the room and banged his head against the wall next to him. “But. But.” He groaned. “Ug.”
Natasha stopped short just inside the door to the apartment that was doubling as their safe house for the duration of the mission. “What did you do?” she demanded.
Clint looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. “You said it was your birthday. So I snuck out early and went shopping. Go shower and change into something a little more comfortable. By the time you finish, dinner should be ready.”
When she returned about fifteen minutes later, he was just plating the meal. She slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back for a moment. “Are you attempting to make up with me?” she asked.
“My life is infinitely better when I don’t have to worry about you knifing me in my sleep,” he answered.
She smiled against his back. “I’d never knife you in your sleep,” she told him. “I’d wait until you were awake and could fight back.”
“That’s… oddly comforting.” He motioned towards the table. “You want to eat?”
Natasha stepped gracefully towards the table, stopping when she spied the package sitting on the table, next to the frosted bottle. “What did you do?”
Clint stepped over to the table, pulling out the chair for her and waiting for her to slide into it. He brushed a kiss across her neck as she took her seat. “Nothing I wouldn’t have done if it wasn’t actually your birthday,” he answered in a low voice.
She tipped the bottle, raising her eyebrows at the sight of the label. “Jewel of Russia?” she questioned.
“You might not trust me to pick your vodka, but I can speak Russian almost as well as you, and I know how to find the right liquor store,” he answered. “It’s newish, but it’s got good…”
“If you say good reviews, I will pour the bottle over you,” she informed him.
“I won’t then,” he said. He grinned at her. “Is your dinner to your liking?”
“It’s very good, Clint,” she assured him. “You know I enjoy it when you cook. And I love your Stroganoff.” She toyed with the ribbon on the package by her plate as she continued to eat. “So what is going on?”
“It seems to me that you were rather annoyed with me earlier,” he commented. “I thought I’d try to get myself back in your good graces.”
“And what’s this?” she asked, playing with the ribbon some more.
“Why don’t you open it and see?”
Delicately, Natasha picked at the bow, pulling it open and setting it aside before carefully opening the paper. She took the lid off the box and looked down; frowning when she saw what was nestled in the paper. “Sparklies?”
“Would I dare give you something that just sparkles?” he asked.
She considered him for a minute before looking down at the necklace and bracelet. “So should I worry about it exploding on me?”
“It won’t… arbitrarily explode,” he answered with a grin. Reaching out, he fished the necklace out, letting it dangle from his fingers. “Each color is a different… well. Flashbangs, explosives, sleeping gas, narcotic, pretty much anything portable that my arrowheads are.” He reached for one of the jewels and demonstrated. “You just twist and they pop off and you can throw them, shove them down someone’s throat. Use them as needed. And we can reload it.”
Her eyes lit up as his description continued. “So a lethal charm bracelet?”
“Without the charms,” he said. “I figured it would be helpful while you were charming Stark.”
“There’s no way you had this made in a couple of hours,” she told him.
“No,” he admitted. “I was intending to give this to you for your actual birthday later this month.” He motioned for her to turn around. “Want me to put it on you?”
Natasha lifted her hair, twisting around in her chair. “So I just… rotate the stone?”
“Just turn it and pop it loose,” he instructed as he settled the pendant against her cleavage. His fingers trailed up her collarbone as he pulled his hands away.
“Who said you were forgiven that much?” Natasha asked.
“I’m much more charming than Stark,” he assured her.
“Well, I knew there was a reason I hadn’t killed you yet.”
“Should I be concerned about that? Or flattered? Or offended? Or are we back to the waiting until I’m awake to knife me?” Clint questioned.
She considered him; her head tilted to the side. “I’ll keep you. For now.”
“I’m not a stray puppy, Tasha!”
She smiled at him. “Then don’t act like one.”
“Would you like to know which stone does what?” he asked, trailing a finger down her neck and then pressing a kiss to her skin when she didn’t shrug him away.
“You can show me… tomorrow,” she replied. “Why don’t you follow me to bed now and finish making up to me?” She pushed back from the table and sauntered from the room. A minute later, her shirt came arcing back into the room; swiftly followed by her bra.
Clint eyed the dirty dishes on the stove before watching more clothes drift into the room. “Screw it,” he decided, scooping up the box the necklace had been nestled in. “I can clean up tomorrow.”
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