Trick or treat? :)

It takes her a week to track him down, and it only takes that long because she’s distracted with catching up on bad TV shows.

Working for a shadowy organization has taught Natasha some strange things. She’s a whiz at paperwork, for example, which was not an accomplishment she ever thought she’d one day brag about. She’s also good at hiding coffee filters—again, she’s not proud—and at subtly flicking paperclips across an office she sometimes shares with Bobbi to drive her friend nuts. The first thing she learned at SHIELD, though, was that people in high-stress, high-impact fields of work develop some incredibly strange stress relief practices. And Clint Barton, never exactly normal to begin with since he seems to prefer ancient weaponry over a good old-fashioned Glock, has one of the weirdest hobbies of all.

This year, he’s picked Nebraska.

She misses him at his crash-pad, so she waits until the line opens. She pays for the ticket and, making sure her guns are not in easy reach for once, she steps into the darkness. The immediate sound of a chainsaw behind her actually makes her smile. Dramatic much?

She’s at the tail end of a large group of teens, and the guys are trying to be cool in the face of the girls they’re trying to impress (they’re mostly successful, which impresses her). She makes it halfway through the complex, her enhanced vision giving her an edge, and plays along (though a wolf-man who gets a bit handsy receives a glare strong enough to chop off his wandering fingers; he retreats quickly). It’s a twisted layout, lots of cobwebs and fluorescent-luminescent spray paint on particle board walls. Shrieks and groans fill the air.

She rolls her eyes.

She senses it when she finally reaches him. The chamber is dark and the teens are starting to really lose their nerve, especially since all of them are eyeing the coffin on display behind a low wall, waiting for something to pop out and startle them. Natasha knows the surprise is coming from behind the mirror in the corner, which isn’t actually a mirror.

And sure enough, there’s a loud HISS and there he is, her archer boyfriend, wearing greasepaint and baring some rather impressive fangs.

The teens take off as fast as their feet will carry them, shrieking.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. Clint’s wearing a shiny black cape and an actual tuxedo—the only time he’ll ever wear one, she figures—and fake blood runs down his chin.

“Sexy,” she says.

“Vell, vell, vell.” His voice is the worst Romanian accent she’s ever heard as he steps out of the mirror and grins. “Vot do ve have here?”

“That’s actually pathetic,” Natasha says.

Clint only brightens. She sighs and vaults the low wall, one-handed. “I expected you last night,” he says. He smells like sawdust and sweat and the haunted house.

“I had stuff.”

“How long are you here for?”

Natasha shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve got nothing pressing. I—no, don’t kiss me, you’re covered in greasepaint and this is a new shirt. God, you can take the boy out of the circus, but you can’t take the circus out of the boy, apparently.”

“Nope.” He raises his cape around his face and flourishes one hand at the still-closed coffin. “I got you a present.”

“A dead body?”

But when she lifts the lid, she finds a black dress (and some facepaint) inside. She tilts her head. “I get to be the one in the coffin this year?”

“You were complaining last year that your feet hurt. We should have about ten minutes before the next group gets here. I can help you with your makeup.”

“I never know why I let you talk me into these things,” Natasha says, already stripping to put on the dress. “Every year, I think, no haunted houses. Not again.”

“And yet, here you are.” Clint, before she stop him, swoops in and gives her a brief kiss. “Happy Halloween. Now, let’s get you vamped up. I’ve got so many ideas how we can scare the crap out of people, it’s going to be so much fun…”

It really was a tragedy, Nick Fury thinks as he scans Coulson’s progress updates a week later, that the people of Lincoln, Nebraska had no idea who the two incredibly terrifying vampires at the Lincoln Municipal FrightFest really were. And maybe he should order some psychiatric evaluations. Just in case.

CLINT YOU ARE SUCH A DORK oh my gosh, this is perfect. And Natasha finding him (and watching bad tv, yes). Thank you for the laughs! They were much needed and fantastic. :D

Is there a particular reason hiding coffee filters is important?

Sitwell started it. ;)

This was so fun!

“Vell, vell, vell.” His voice is the worst Romanian accent she’s ever heard as he steps out of the mirror and grins. “Vot do ve have here?”

*lol* He is such a cornball!!

And he is going to help her with her make-up. Why do I find that so sexy?

Loved this!