Post-Canon: New Zealand, with Clint - Vacation

[redintheledger]

Natasha has a beach cottage, a damn comfortable couch, and a book (Japanese, all magical realism and folklore). There is also a glass of wine on the coffee table, a cushion underneath her head, and a Russian metal a cappella band on the stereo.

She is feeling decadent.

Moderately decadent, anyway; it's not as if she and Clint have pulled one of their 'let's book out the honeymoon suite' stunts. This is a perfectly nice, perfectly modest little cottage they've rented, and she's feeling relaxed enough that she only has a knife strapped to her shin underneath her jeans.

All she is really missing is a Clint, but she's not going to actively worry about him unless he doesn't turn up in the next hour.

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[hasthehighground]

It's only 20 minutes later when Clint comes back. His walk on the beach was sidetracked through a series of stores, so when he double-taps a knock and unlocks the door, he's drinking out of a small bottle of milk and has a plastic bag over his arm.

(In it is Nutella, animal crackers, a loaf of bread, and peanut butter. Provisions!)

"Hey, pretty lady," he says, glancing to her with a grin as he closes the door. "What're you up to?"

[redintheledger]

"[Keeping my linguistics skills useful,]" she says, torn between smiling at him and rolling her eyes at the 'pretty lady'.

Of course, she says it in Japanese. Because she can. She puts in a bookmark to mind her page, and tosses it lightly onto the coffee table.

"Exercising," is what she says in English, sitting him and drawing her legs up to her chest. "And what have you found on your travels?"

[hasthehighground]

He's pretty sure she's insulting him in Japanese. This isn't exactly abnormal.

(At least he can recognize it's Japanese!)

"Treasures," he says, setting the peanut butter and bread on the counter before coming over to sit down next to her on the couch.

He presents the animal crackers and Nutella to her, with an air of great formality.

[redintheledger]

"And such rare ones. You must have travelled far afield, Sir Clint," she says, just as overly formal.

A big cat gets dipped in Nutella, and then has its head bitten off sharply.

[hasthehighground]

"A whole three blocks," he grins at her, and snags an elephant.

"Did you see they've got a glassware shop?"

[redintheledger]

"I noticed it, but," she shrugs. It was part of the area - she just wanted to get some place, put her bags down, catch her breath.

"It...look interesting? And not full of touristy crap?"

[hasthehighground]

"Some touristy crap, in front," he says, laughing, "but yeah, the back half's all local artists. Some of it's pretty great."

[redintheledger]

"Well," she says happily. "I know what I'm doing tomorrow."

For now, she's going to shift and move, and rest her head on his shoulder.

Because she can.

And because they are on holiday, and pretending to be normal, and no on is trying to kill them, and because he's there.

(Also, better access to the crackers)

[hasthehighground]

(She's very cunning.)

Clint feels faintly smug. He's got 'Tasha, animal crackers, and his bruises are healing up pretty nicely.

"Yeah, lazybones," he says, quietly, resting his cheek against her hair.

[redintheledger]

If Natasha were a cat, she'd be purring right about now.

"Being lazy is the greatest decadence for all," she says, dreamily, as if she hadn't been faithfully doing work-outs every morning.

[hasthehighground]

Clint laughs silently, though his ribcage rattles with it.

He's quiet for several minutes, and quiet tends to let his thoughts work themselves out, thoughts he's been rolling over in his mind all week. He's --

Sitting here, with her, with her happy, with her alive (he has so much on his hands, but not her death, not yet), and he feels -- wrong. Not that he's here, not that she's here, but that he's keeping intel from her.

"Nat?"

[redintheledger]

"[I'm the seller of souls, in league with the Devil himself],] croons one of the female vocalists in Russian, and Natasha is humming along when Clint says her name.

He says her name like that, and she leans over to pause the music before turning to face him, expression a little blank as her mind starts analysing.

"Yes?"

[hasthehighground]

He licks his lower lip, nervous and quick. "I," Clint says, before thinking fuck, no, this is a briefing, stop stalling and settles. "Loki knows what I know. About you."

[redintheledger]

She'd been...not wanting to have this conversation. And needing to have it.

"I know.






Loki said."

[hasthehighground]

Clint lets out a shaky breath, and closes his eyes.



"He thought it was funny, I think."

What he doesn't say: I thought it was funny.

His jaw is tight.

"I'm sorry."

[redintheledger]

She relaxes back into the couch, leans against it to look at him. It's a less distancing stance that the pause she'd had before, and she's well aware of it.

The solidity of the couch also feels safe.

"I...was surprised at the amount of information given," she says, slowly, "not that...he compelled you to do it. You were giving intel on the enemy.





I was using my own history anyway. And...us. When he told me."

[hasthehighground]

She's right, he was. It still sticks in his throat that SHIELD was the enemy. That when Coulson died, he and Clint weren't even fighting on the same side.

Still, her admission makes him smile very slightly. "Confused the bastard, did you?"

[redintheledger]

Her smile is cold, vicious. "Oh, yes. He thought he had me in pieces, and he told me exactly what I needed."

It hadn't, in the end, done much good, but the sudden confusion on Loki's face is a memory to warm her.

The smile fades, though, and she glances down.

"He did. Have me in pieces. I...you can't lie to a trickster, so. I let him get to me.





You asked me what he did to me. Do you want to know?"

[hasthehighground]

He moves his leg, so it's pressing lightly against hers.

"If you tell," he says, "I'll listen."

[redintheledger]

She looks up at him, focuses on his face.

"He told me how he'd kill you.





That, he'd...make you kill me first. In ways only you'd know how to make it the worst.

Then...he'd release you, so you'd know what you did.

Then he, said, that's when he'd kill you.






So. I had to stop him."

[hasthehighground]

"Nat," he says, and his throat is dry.

Thank you isn't really something that happens, between them. It's too big and obvious and important to ever be spoken. So he doesn't say it.

He remembers wanting her dead, wanting her hurt, to please Loki.

He nods acknowledgement, dropping his eyes.

[redintheledger]

"And," she says, "we did. We stopped him.

We kicked his ass."

[hasthehighground]

"Banner," Clint clarifies, smirking suddenly, "kicked his ass. We just wiped out his army."

[redintheledger]

She holds up her finger. "Uh-uh, I tricked him, and I shut down his portal. That definitely counts as taking part in the ass-kicking.



But I'll be nice, and say that it was a group effort."

[hasthehighground]

Clint knows Natasha's try to make him laugh, but he laughs anyway. (She's good at it.)

"You're very generous."