Plague (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
corellianrogue) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2016-02-04 01:04 pm
corellianrogue) wrote in fandomweekly2016-02-04 01:04 pm
Entry tags:
[#001] That One Time in Moscow (MCU)
Theme Prompt: New Beginnings
Title: That One Time in Moscow
Fandom: MCU
Rating/Warnings: PG for some language, slight AoU spoilers?
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 994
Summary: Not every friendship starts off with a bang. Some, however, start off with lots of them.
“You really want to hear this one again?”
Of course they did. The agreement from Natasha was a little more unexpected, but only if you didn’t know her as well as he did.
“Okay, okay. It was a long time ago…”
“Since when was this a fairy tale?”
“Aunt Nat, you’re ruining the story!”
“Yeah, stop ruining the story. Where was I?”
“Somewhere just before ‘it was a dark and stormy night,’ I think.”
It had been, now he thought about it, but since she’d brought it up, he’d just cut that part out.
“It was a long time ago. I was on a business trip. A boring one, since I didn’t know your Aunt Nat yet.”
“Oh, sure, blame it all on me.”
Technically, he had known Natasha then, but only in an abstract sort of way, how people at the top of their game always ‘know’ the opposition.
“I will, thanks. Moving on.”
It wasn’t a long story, not the way he told it to the kids. The whole thing had seemed to take forever when it was happening, but looking back…
The rest of the bedtime ritual went along with no more than the usual amount of grumbling and sulking. The house was quiet for the night with Laura off at some bachelorette party or something. She didn’t ask too much about his work and he didn’t ask too much about her girlfriends and both of them were happier for it. Natasha was already waiting when he finally managed to escape after the third round of ‘Daddy, I need a…’
“They’re still cute.”
“You say that every time, and every time I tell you you’re welcome to kidnap them to try them out for yourself, but you still haven’t taken me up on it.”
She smiled that little smile that had guys that weren’t him falling all over themselves for her. He usually just wanted to punch those guys.
“But who would you papa bear, then?”
Silences between them were pretty comfortable, most of the time. You got good at that sort of thing when you spent so much time waiting with nothing to do but wait some more. This wasn’t one of those silences. He still let it sit, pretending to pay more attention to the dishes from dinner than they deserved.
Eventually, it worked. Just like always.
“That story. You made a lot of it sound nice.”
“I’m not gonna give my kids nightmares on purpose.”
“Do you remember it like that?”
The version the kids got did have a lot fewer gunshots and at least a little less poison in it than the real thing had. Sometimes he thought it might be nice to have actual stories like that.
“Nah. We are what we are. Not gonna sugarcoat it.”
“Just to them.”
“Just to them.”
“But you do remember it.”
Right. So this was where the conversation was going. Familiar ground, at least, even if it was filled with landmines.
“Course I do. I remember lots of stuff about you; I’m not gonna forget the first time we met.”
“Even if I was trying to kill you?”
“Technically, you were trying to kill the Senator.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Try me, if you don’t believe me.”
He could see the moment she decided the challenge sounded like a good idea. He checked the staircase. It’d be just like his rugrats to decide tonight would be a good night to sneak out of bed.
“Fine. What hotel were you in?”
“Nice try. We weren’t in a hotel, we were staying in the Embassy until the security risk was taken care of. Not exactly five stars. Thanks for that.”
“You shot out the tires on my favorite bike.”
“If that was your favorite bike, I was doing you a favor.”
He grinned. She glared.
“No one’s memory is that good.”
His memories about her weren’t, she meant. He wasn’t sure if it was a dig at his age or herself, but either way, that was a challenge he’d take.
“Seriously? It happened on the first of the month.”
He held up one finger pointedly. Not that he remembered that part because of her. He remembered because his paycheck had been late. Maybe it was the shadow organization Russian nesting doll shtick S.H.I.E.L.D. had going, but for all their tech, they still hadn’t mastered the art of direct deposit. He’d gotten home after the whole fiasco to find it in his mailbox looking like a dog tried to eat it, all wrapped up in a cheerfully apologetic Post Office envelope. ‘We care about your mail’ his ass.
But when you foot an unexpected trip through Russia, you remember the details.
“You were wearing that awful sack you called a dress because you thought I was some stupid American who wouldn’t notice.”
Another finger joined the first. Of course he’d noticed. Even if he hadn’t known who she was, he’d have noticed. Natasha could say it was nurture over nature all she wanted, but she was the sort of person you noticed in a crowded room. How that fit with being an international spy, he didn’t know, but she made it work.
“You-”
“I get it.”
On the little tally board in his mind, another chalk mark went up in his favor. She was still winning, but he didn’t mind it that way.
“So yeah, of course I remember. You’re hard to forget. Even when you’re trying to kill me. Maybe especially when you’re trying to kill me.”
Point being she hadn’t killed him, for whatever reason she’d had, and it got him thinking even back then. It was the first time they met, but definitely not the last, and eventually he’d gotten to return the favor. Maybe they didn’t have good stories back then, but it didn’t mean they never could.
Either of them.
She was smiling, now, not the makes-guys-stupid kind, but a real one.
“Thanks, Clint.”
“Any time.”
Title: That One Time in Moscow
Fandom: MCU
Rating/Warnings: PG for some language, slight AoU spoilers?
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 994
Summary: Not every friendship starts off with a bang. Some, however, start off with lots of them.
“You really want to hear this one again?”
Of course they did. The agreement from Natasha was a little more unexpected, but only if you didn’t know her as well as he did.
“Okay, okay. It was a long time ago…”
“Since when was this a fairy tale?”
“Aunt Nat, you’re ruining the story!”
“Yeah, stop ruining the story. Where was I?”
“Somewhere just before ‘it was a dark and stormy night,’ I think.”
It had been, now he thought about it, but since she’d brought it up, he’d just cut that part out.
“It was a long time ago. I was on a business trip. A boring one, since I didn’t know your Aunt Nat yet.”
“Oh, sure, blame it all on me.”
Technically, he had known Natasha then, but only in an abstract sort of way, how people at the top of their game always ‘know’ the opposition.
“I will, thanks. Moving on.”
It wasn’t a long story, not the way he told it to the kids. The whole thing had seemed to take forever when it was happening, but looking back…
The rest of the bedtime ritual went along with no more than the usual amount of grumbling and sulking. The house was quiet for the night with Laura off at some bachelorette party or something. She didn’t ask too much about his work and he didn’t ask too much about her girlfriends and both of them were happier for it. Natasha was already waiting when he finally managed to escape after the third round of ‘Daddy, I need a…’
“They’re still cute.”
“You say that every time, and every time I tell you you’re welcome to kidnap them to try them out for yourself, but you still haven’t taken me up on it.”
She smiled that little smile that had guys that weren’t him falling all over themselves for her. He usually just wanted to punch those guys.
“But who would you papa bear, then?”
Silences between them were pretty comfortable, most of the time. You got good at that sort of thing when you spent so much time waiting with nothing to do but wait some more. This wasn’t one of those silences. He still let it sit, pretending to pay more attention to the dishes from dinner than they deserved.
Eventually, it worked. Just like always.
“That story. You made a lot of it sound nice.”
“I’m not gonna give my kids nightmares on purpose.”
“Do you remember it like that?”
The version the kids got did have a lot fewer gunshots and at least a little less poison in it than the real thing had. Sometimes he thought it might be nice to have actual stories like that.
“Nah. We are what we are. Not gonna sugarcoat it.”
“Just to them.”
“Just to them.”
“But you do remember it.”
Right. So this was where the conversation was going. Familiar ground, at least, even if it was filled with landmines.
“Course I do. I remember lots of stuff about you; I’m not gonna forget the first time we met.”
“Even if I was trying to kill you?”
“Technically, you were trying to kill the Senator.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Try me, if you don’t believe me.”
He could see the moment she decided the challenge sounded like a good idea. He checked the staircase. It’d be just like his rugrats to decide tonight would be a good night to sneak out of bed.
“Fine. What hotel were you in?”
“Nice try. We weren’t in a hotel, we were staying in the Embassy until the security risk was taken care of. Not exactly five stars. Thanks for that.”
“You shot out the tires on my favorite bike.”
“If that was your favorite bike, I was doing you a favor.”
He grinned. She glared.
“No one’s memory is that good.”
His memories about her weren’t, she meant. He wasn’t sure if it was a dig at his age or herself, but either way, that was a challenge he’d take.
“Seriously? It happened on the first of the month.”
He held up one finger pointedly. Not that he remembered that part because of her. He remembered because his paycheck had been late. Maybe it was the shadow organization Russian nesting doll shtick S.H.I.E.L.D. had going, but for all their tech, they still hadn’t mastered the art of direct deposit. He’d gotten home after the whole fiasco to find it in his mailbox looking like a dog tried to eat it, all wrapped up in a cheerfully apologetic Post Office envelope. ‘We care about your mail’ his ass.
But when you foot an unexpected trip through Russia, you remember the details.
“You were wearing that awful sack you called a dress because you thought I was some stupid American who wouldn’t notice.”
Another finger joined the first. Of course he’d noticed. Even if he hadn’t known who she was, he’d have noticed. Natasha could say it was nurture over nature all she wanted, but she was the sort of person you noticed in a crowded room. How that fit with being an international spy, he didn’t know, but she made it work.
“You-”
“I get it.”
On the little tally board in his mind, another chalk mark went up in his favor. She was still winning, but he didn’t mind it that way.
“So yeah, of course I remember. You’re hard to forget. Even when you’re trying to kill me. Maybe especially when you’re trying to kill me.”
Point being she hadn’t killed him, for whatever reason she’d had, and it got him thinking even back then. It was the first time they met, but definitely not the last, and eventually he’d gotten to return the favor. Maybe they didn’t have good stories back then, but it didn’t mean they never could.
Either of them.
She was smiling, now, not the makes-guys-stupid kind, but a real one.
“Thanks, Clint.”
“Any time.”
no subject
no subject
Also your icon is adorable. Can I ask what it's from?
no subject