The rain had been falling steadily for three days, but it didn’t feel oppressive. Clint had grown up loathing the rain. Rain kept people in their homes, which meant the tickets stayed in the little box that Carson’s daughter kept in her truck. Rain soaked the equipment, the animals, the people. It made everything damp, and miserable, and it sounded like gunshots on the tarp over the bed of the 1957 Chevrolet truck that Clint and Barney used to curl up in at night and pretend their bones weren’t shaking loose from their skin with the cold. The crop farmers in the Midwest where Carson’s traveling circus might have cheered for the rain, but the circus performers regarded it as the greatest enemy.
A lifetime removed from that little boy, Clint Barton sat at the window and watched sheets of water drip to the streets of Seattle. Outside, locals in GoreTex wandered through, unperturbed by the wet. To them, it was simply another day. They had no reason to dislike the rain.
The assignment had been a gimme, in and out in thirty minutes to steal some information from a defense contractor that Nick Fury felt had been getting a little too nosy about SHIELD. A rookie could have done it, but Fury had sent Natasha. And she hadn’t needed backup, but Clint had tagged along anyway. SHIELD’s idea of a vacation, he knew.
They’d gone to the Pike Market place, the Space Needle, Gasworks Park, all of it. Just a couple of tourists in rain gear that was so new, it shone like a copper penny. Because they weren’t supposed to report back for days, their pace had been unhurried. Clint had dragged Natasha to a couple of local breweries; she’d returned the favor by tugging him into one art gallery after the next. They’d taken a naps and lazed the day away, piled on each other like contented puppies.
It was nice. Except for the rain.
He heard her footsteps behind him—Nat’s way of being lazy—but didn’t turn. “Next time we need to get Fury to send us somewhere sunny,” he said.
Natasha leaned over his shoulder to hand him a mug of coffee: half the reason to love Seattle. “Mm,” she said. “Though I like it here.”
“You do?” He twisted to look at her.
“Indeed.” She nudged him a little to get him to scoot forward on the window seat—SHIELD had paid a little garret-style apartment—and slid in behind him, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug. He leaned back against her warmth. “I like the rain.”
“I don’t.”
She rested her forehead against the back of his neck, and he felt her lips curve against the material of his shirt. “I know.”
“It gets everywhere,” Clint said. Outside, a woman in a bright pink rain slicker waved at an old man with a dog. “Then you have mold, and rot, and it’s always either cold or too hot. You ever been on a thirty-six hour sniper post in the rain, Tash?”
“Tell you what, I shall wait in the rain next time, and you can fight off three Hydra agents while wearing five-inch heels and a cocktail dress.”
As always, her dry-as-the-Sahara tone made him laugh. He took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t have the hips for it.”
“We’ll have to see.” Natasha hooked an arm around his chest so that she was basically hugging him from behind. “But you forget something about the rain, Barton.”
“It’s inconvenient?”
“We met in the rain.”
“Okay,” Clint said. “I guess it can’t be all that bad, then.”
“Guess not,” Natasha said, and they fell quiet. Dry and warm, they watched through the window as the rain continued to fall.
FIC: The Memory of Rain, Rated G, no warnings
A lifetime removed from that little boy, Clint Barton sat at the window and watched sheets of water drip to the streets of Seattle. Outside, locals in GoreTex wandered through, unperturbed by the wet. To them, it was simply another day. They had no reason to dislike the rain.
The assignment had been a gimme, in and out in thirty minutes to steal some information from a defense contractor that Nick Fury felt had been getting a little too nosy about SHIELD. A rookie could have done it, but Fury had sent Natasha. And she hadn’t needed backup, but Clint had tagged along anyway. SHIELD’s idea of a vacation, he knew.
They’d gone to the Pike Market place, the Space Needle, Gasworks Park, all of it. Just a couple of tourists in rain gear that was so new, it shone like a copper penny. Because they weren’t supposed to report back for days, their pace had been unhurried. Clint had dragged Natasha to a couple of local breweries; she’d returned the favor by tugging him into one art gallery after the next. They’d taken a naps and lazed the day away, piled on each other like contented puppies.
It was nice. Except for the rain.
He heard her footsteps behind him—Nat’s way of being lazy—but didn’t turn. “Next time we need to get Fury to send us somewhere sunny,” he said.
Natasha leaned over his shoulder to hand him a mug of coffee: half the reason to love Seattle. “Mm,” she said. “Though I like it here.”
“You do?” He twisted to look at her.
“Indeed.” She nudged him a little to get him to scoot forward on the window seat—SHIELD had paid a little garret-style apartment—and slid in behind him, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug. He leaned back against her warmth. “I like the rain.”
“I don’t.”
She rested her forehead against the back of his neck, and he felt her lips curve against the material of his shirt. “I know.”
“It gets everywhere,” Clint said. Outside, a woman in a bright pink rain slicker waved at an old man with a dog. “Then you have mold, and rot, and it’s always either cold or too hot. You ever been on a thirty-six hour sniper post in the rain, Tash?”
“Tell you what, I shall wait in the rain next time, and you can fight off three Hydra agents while wearing five-inch heels and a cocktail dress.”
As always, her dry-as-the-Sahara tone made him laugh. He took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t have the hips for it.”
“We’ll have to see.” Natasha hooked an arm around his chest so that she was basically hugging him from behind. “But you forget something about the rain, Barton.”
“It’s inconvenient?”
“We met in the rain.”
“Okay,” Clint said. “I guess it can’t be all that bad, then.”
“Guess not,” Natasha said, and they fell quiet. Dry and warm, they watched through the window as the rain continued to fall.