Prompt: Clint and Natasha having fun on a beach

see also my comment to sgflutegirl's prompt below ... ;-)

This is based almost entirely on a glorious half hour I spent alone on a beach in Nicaragua. And if you think sandy beaches are better than rocky ones I am here to tell you that you are catagorically wrong.

---

“When you said ‘beach’, this really wasn’t what I was picturing.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Natasha asks over her shoulder.

“Well, there’s no sand for starters,” says Clint, gesturing at the rocky outcrop they were currently climbing over.

“So? This is more interesting,” Natasha replies. “It has rock pools.”

Clint raises an eyebrow in her direction. “Rock pools?”

“Yeah,” says Natasha, squatting down to look into a pool. “Look, there’s a crab.”

“I cannot believe you’re a rocky beach type of person.”

“What’s so great about sandy beaches?” Natasha asks, still peering into the pool. “You just lie on them, and then burn. Sand gets everywhere and fat men leer at you. Rocky beaches are much more interesting.”

Clint looks out to sea, shading his eyes to see the waves crashing against the craggy headland. He’s never understood how the sea is so calming and… grounding, but it is; the push-pull of the waves endless and soothing – like looking at the stars. Making you feel small and connected at the same time.

“OK, I don’t get the fat men, but I can see that being annoying,” he says, before turning back to her. “But lying on the beach is fun! You don’t have to do anything.”

Natasha looks up at him and then rolls her eyes. “Yes, because doing nothing is so interesting.”

Clint huffs as she stands to climb over rocks to reach the line of the sea, waves crashing dramatically up up up and the spray creating mists that blur the horizon and create little rainbows as the droplets catch the sunlight. He’d be worried about her on the water-slick rocks if she weren’t Natasha, and if she weren’t wearing diving shoes; the black rubber incongruous when paired with her forest green bikini.

A wave crashes into the rocks in front of her, and for a moment she is silhouetted against the spray, looking powerful and elemental; a water goddess raised from the sea to cast judgement on the land.

But then the water retreats and she’s just Natasha again.

“Look,” she says suddenly, “Pelicans.”

Clint looks in the direction she’s pointing and sees a line of five pelicans flying parallel to the breaking waves. Clint reaches Natasha’s rock to stand beside her and they watch as the pelicans fly out of sight behind the headland.

“And look,” Natasha says, quieter now that Clint is close, “An eagle.”

Clint follows her finger again and sees an eagle of some sort, turning lazy circles in the thermals coming off the cliff. They watch it for some time, periodically getting sprayed with seawater by the rising tide. It’s only when they start really getting soaked, indicating that it’s time to move or get dragged out to sea, that they move.

“C’mon,” Natasha says. “Let’s go round the headland. We can watch the sun set from there.”

“We could also get trapped by the rising tide,” Clint points out.

“Are you telling me you couldn’t scale these cliffs, Agent Barton?”

Clint rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. Lay on Macduff.”

He gestures at her to move but she just smiles at him, open and happy. Glowing.

“You quoted it correctly,” she says, and Clint shrugs, grinning.

“I do listen to you sometimes.”

So Natasha leads him around the headland, just before the sea claims the path she’s picked out, and they sit on orange, sun-warmed rocks and alternate between watching the eagle turning lazy circles above them, the crabs scuttling around their feet and the sun setting the sky on fire.

“OK, you’re right,” Clint concedes a while later, as Natasha leans against his side and the sky turns orange and purple as the sun dips below the horizon. “This is better than a sandy beach.”

They do end up climbing the cliff to get out, though.

Edited 2014-05-31 10:09 pm (UTC)

Oh, this is lovely! Reminds me of some of the beaches back home with their tidepools. Arrrggghhhh I miss living near water!

GORGEOUS! Absolutely gorgeous. =D

Especially this:

A wave crashes into the rocks in front of her, and for a moment she is silhouetted against the spray, looking powerful and elemental; a water goddess raised from the sea to cast judgement on the land.

Ooooh, I loved this!!!! I have spent time on rocky beaches just staring out into the sunset so I totally know where they (and you) are coming from. Its a feeling like no other. This was beautifully written and evokes so many great images. Thanks for sharing!

This is a very Clint-and-Natasha kind of beach, methinks. I love her interest in a certain kind of beauty, one that's a little more challenging and that moves her curiosity. I think Clint might agree, too.

Also, rock-climbing in the dark ftw! *lol*

Truly lovely. Reminds me of Wreck Beach in Vancouver.

I do love this. It's quiet, but so them, and I feel like I'm there with them.

This is lovely. You captured some really beautiful images.

Clint kissing Natasha bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier.

Hahahaha, i was going to say something like this! Wear a bikini anyway, Natasha!

(Also, i miss you come back!!!!!!!)

My prompt should say "Natasha wear a bikini for the first time and Clint want to know the story behind that particularly scar" .

BTW does that happened after she joined Clint or before? It looks like it was after right? So maybe Clint patch her up????

Prompt: Clint and Natasha being forced to take a vacation (reason up to the writer). They hate it at first, but end up enjoying themselves anyway.

Beach Blanket Bingo

"What the hell do you mean, vacation?"

"First of all, it's what the hell do you mean, SIR, Barton, and second, vacation is the thing you do when you don't do anything."

"And why would we want to do -- or not do -- that, sir?" Clint's voice has taken on that quality when you can practically see the green acid dripping from the thought bubble. Natasha is staying out of it for now; let him flatten the enemy with a blast; she'll come in and finish off the ones still writhing.

"You have been carrying out seventeen missions in a row, agents," Coulson piles on. "The only days you weren't out in the field is when one of you has been in medical. You may think you're still sharp, but the truth is, you're both losing your edge. It's time for a break before you crack."

Fury briefly frowns at Coulson before directing his baleful glare pre-emptively at Natasha.

"We're sending you to a place where they mix drinks far better than Coulson here does metaphors." He makes the talk-to-the-hand gesture before Natasha can so much as raise her voice.

"You will go. Not negotiable. SHIELD is paying, so consider this another mission. We've reserved a spot for you at the Marriott resort in Cancun, and yes, it's a double room with a king-sized bed. And don't bother pretending that you're not actually sleeping with each other. We have video. Quinjet's picking you up at five sharp; Whether you pack a bikini and swimming trunks is up to you, although I would highly recommend that you do. Dismissed."

.......

"So, what do you think?"

Clint squints at Natasha over his beer. She's not sure whether she should be concerned that he doesn’t seem to be, for once, staring at bits of her bikini-clad body. (Bored already, Barton?).

It's their second day of sitting by the pool, swimming in the pool, or walking around the pool to get to the ocean. (Right now, they’re by the ocean – dead giveaway: that row of straw roof things, and the murmuring surf. They’ve long since stopped arguing whether the proper term for the water is azure, turquoise, cerulean or aquamarine, and as far as Natasha is concerned, next week can't come soon enough.

Her hands clutch the daiquiri as if she could crush the glass, and she barely manages to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"What do I think of what? Vacation? Fury’s idea of punishment for the Florence fuck-up?"

He heaves a sigh.

"No, of those two guys over there by the bar. Jalisco or Juarez? I say Jalisco. They have that uni-browed thug thing going."

Natasha follows Clint's eyes -- so that's where they have been … Forgiveness is instantaneous, as her world brightens. He’s right; the two men, deep in conversation, have organized crime written all over their hirsute bodies.

A small smile curls her lips, and she drains her daiquiri before gracefully rising from her lounger.

“Let’s find out. A cuba libre says they’re Juarez. I don’t see any tattoos.”

“The Juarez cartel? In Cancun?” Clint raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re on, lady.”

….

Clint has dozed off in the sun, by the time she gets back to her chaiselongue. Bastard didn’t even watch the proceedings? She allows the condensation from the ice-cold drink to drip on his bare chest and nods in satisfaction as he yelps in surprise.

“Score one cuba libre for you, Barton,” she sighs. “Jalisco. The tattoos were hidden in the chest hair.”

He reaches for his glass, and lets his tongue catch one of the drops, then sucks the lemon into his mouth. The things that man does with his tongue should be subject to international law. And those abs …

A thought strikes her. There are thirteen major cartels in Mexico, and Cancun is neutral ground.

“How much for a full bingo?”

Clint looks at her thoughtfully over his straw.

“Full contact, or dry?”

Natasha shrugs.

“You have your methods, I have mine. No paperwork, though.”

He rolls over, lets his damp fingers trail over her stomach and gives her a lazy grin.

“I’ll think of something. But you know, all in all, I could get used to this holiday thing.”

Love this!! :)

*lol* Of course they would find entertainment especially suited to them. There's a couple who love their work.

“Seriously? You’re on, lady.”

I love how he calls her lady. Very old-school comic-booky. :)

"And don't bother pretending that you're not actually sleeping with each other. We have video."


OMG Fury lmao!!!!

Hilarious as always. I adore your ficlets!

HEEEE!!!!!!

No paperwork, though. -- See, they do know how to vacation properly!

I did get a little distracted toward the end though -- thoughts of Clint's bare chest and abs... ;)

Undercover at an ice cream parlour

Hot town, summer in the city: electric blackout in NYC during a heat wave. Not even Stark Tower has AC, and Natasha is not happy.

This sounds like Sweat (http://archiveofourown.org/works/560328), by SidheRa to me! :-)

Stuck outside in 100+ degree weather in the desert.

(Because that's what I've been subjected to lately *cries*)

A/N: So I've written better, but this was fun, so I just went ahead and gave it a go. Hope you like.

---

"You are a strange man, Clint Barton."

Clint chuckled softly without lowering his binoculars. "Says the woman who likes poolsides and stiletto heels. I'd say, 'Have you tried walking in those things,' but obviously, you've got it down pat."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Have you tried walking in stiletto heels?"

"No comment," he answered dryly.

He reached for his water bottle and made a discontented sound as he wiped his brow, proving that he was indeed human despite preferring a stakeout at 100 degrees (plus) in the middle of the desert to 'poolsides' and Natasha in stiletto heels. This despite the fact that she knew he very much appreciated seeing her all dressed up.

Natasha was miserably hot. She wanted out of her tac suit, regardless of the protections it offered from bullets and worse, and she kept wringing out the excess sweat and yanking off whatever accessories she didn't really think she'd need.

"We'd blend in more if we were in desert clothes," she pointed out for the fifteenth time in the last four hours.

Clint leaned forward and stared through the binoculars. His turn on watch. He seemed to genuinely not mind it, despite his own heavy tac suit.

They had parked the jeep behind a copse of scraggly desert growth and rocks and were supposed to just sit there and watch for the weapons convoy due to wander through sometime between three days ago and a week from now. They'd been staked out for five days, and the heat was beginning to seriously make her want to tell off Fury the next time he thought she should join her insane partner on this type of mission.

"Don't need to blend in," Clint pointed out.

Natasha sighed. Both of them knew there wouldn't be time to suit up when the convoy did come through. Clint would be taking out key players from far out and she would be infiltrating the camp afterward for some much needed intel on the trafficking in the area. She was professional enough to keep her griping to a minimum, not that Clint ever returned the favor at a five star hotel.

"Hey, Clint."

He glanced over, eyebrows arching in amusement that he had graduated from full-name treatment. She thought the temporary demotion had been fully merited. He actually liked this assignment.

"Give me your best estimate on how much notice we'll have before they're in range." She gestured at the expanse of rocky desert and the excellent view their position afforded.

Clint shrugged. "Twenty minutes."

"And out of range?"

He gave her a funny look. "Fifteen."

"So I can safely take a fifteen-minute break from this tac suit," she said firmly and started stripping.

He stared at her blankly.

Natasha and Clint had seen each other in minimal clothing often enough, but she didn't usually get down to underwear unless she wanted him to do something about it.

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be staring through the binoculars," she told him, knowing perfectly well what she was doing to him.

"You're an evil woman, Natasha Romanoff." But he turned back to watch again.

She put up the shade so she wouldn't burn like a tomato, sipped some water, and smiled. "Says the man who once tried walking in stiletto heels."