“You locked yourself out your apartment and you’re really cute and I can help, please don’t ask why I’m carrying lock picks” AU

I love everything about this.

So, would you object horribly to this having some supernatural elements to it? Cause uh, I might be doing a thing but if that's not your jam, I don't wanna offer it to you.

um, I LOVE this idea?!??

Natasha heard him before she saw him. His voice drifted down the hallway as he sang some blues song slightly off key. She wasn't wholly familiar with the song, but she was pretty sure he was making up some of the words. She didn't recall ever having heard a song about a half-blind pizza dog before.

As she came around the corner, she finally found him, sitting in the hallway with his back against his front door, his eyes closed and head tipped back as he sang.

She paused and took a moment to study him.

God, but he was cute. There was something about that messy blond hair and broad shoulders and slightly crooked nose that set her body to humming. And now that she'd heard his voice, all gravelly undertones hiding under that smooth midwestern twang, she couldn't stop imagining how it would sound as he said her name. Preferably while his hard body had her pinned beneath him on a bed.

She shook her head. That was kind of rushing things a bit. She really ought to introduce herself first. Something she'd been saying for the entirety of the two weeks she'd lived here but had yet to actually do. Well, no time like the present.

"Um, hi?"

His eyes flew open in surprise and he nearly knocked his head against the door as he peered up at her. "Hi!"

"Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you," Natasha apologized, practically drowning under his mesmerizingly gaze. She struggled to get her libido under control. "But, um, don't you live here?"

He squinted up at her. "Yeah?"

"So why are you sitting in the hallway?"

He scrambled to his feet. "I, uh, locked myself out. My friend Katie's comin' to help me out, but she's at this thing and it might be a while."


She tilted her head at him. "So why didn't you go down to Starbucks or something while you waited?"

"Lucky's inside," he said, as if that explained everything. He smiled at her lopsidedly, making her heart do a little flip, and she almost missed the rest of what he said. "Sorry, Lucky's my dog. He's the one that got us into this mess."

She laughed, being all too familiar with what had probably happened. "Let me guess. You stepped out to get the mail or something and he slammed the door shut behind you."

He blushed and it was adorable. "Yeah, something like that."

"My cat does that all the time," she assured him.

"You have a cat?"

"Kind of. More like she has me." She looked at him, standing there awkwardly in the hallway, and made a rash decision that she was sure she was going to regret. "If you hold on a second, I think I can help you out."

He shrugged. "Not like there's anywhere I can go."

Natasha juggled the packages in her hands and fished out her keys, then disappeared into her own apartment across the hall.

A minute later, she reappeared in the hallway with a small zippered pouch. Opening it, she took out a slim metal tool and knelt in front of the door. Within seconds, the lock clicked and his door swung open. An excited Lucky raced out, jumping up on Clint, who shooed him back into the apartment but carefully kept a hand on the door so it wouldn't slam shut again.

"Um… Are you, uh, that is..." He stopped and rubbed at the back of his neck. "There's really no good way to ask what I want to ask."

She laughed and stood up again. "Honestly, it's nothing sinister. I promise." She peeked into his apartment. A little messy, but not a total frat house. Taking a deep breath, she figured in for a penny, in for a pound. "Maybe invite me in for a drink and I'll tell you?"

"You wanna come in?" he asked, surprised. "I can't offer much. I think my fridge has some cold pizza and some beer and that's it."

Ok, not the best impression, but it was the weekend and honestly, hadn't she herself been living on take-out all week?

"At least tell me it not Pabst Blue Ribbon."

He made an apologetic face. "Coors?"

God, he really was a bit of a disaster, wasn't he? Still, those eyes and that hair and that mouth and… It was really a good thing she hadn't backed him up into the door yet and kissed him senseless.

She laughed and pushed past him into his apartment. "It'll do."

Love this! Especially the little detour Natasha's libido takes. ;)

THANK YOU! I may have, uh, been self-inserting a bit? *G*

That;s such a delightfully normal reason for Clint to be locked out. And, like, a reason that doesn't make Clint the stupidest person alive. Because I was half worrying this prompted would veer into "Clint is a human trash fire" and... I like that but sometimes Clint gets watered down until that's all he is and that's tiring.

\0/
I agree! Dumpster fire is good up to a point, but he's still fairly competent at life and not so dumb about getting locked out from shear stupidity. But pets and toddlers on the other hand... they don't understand locks and things. ;)

I not only love this but need a sequel/continuation ASAP!!!

I adore this. <3

Blushes. Aww, thank you!

I'd been saving this one to read because I wanted to habe a stab at filling it myself and I didn't want to steal anything by accident *grins* so i'm highly amused that we both went for 'locked out because of pets' but that we switched who was locked out and who had the lockpicks.

I enjoyed this - love the idea of Natasha having watched Clint for ages and this is an opportunity ahe can take advantage of, and Clint inviting her in even though she's the kind of person who has lockpicks and he's only worried about the state of refreshments has has to offer, ha.

Heee! Yes, I love that we both blamed the poor hapless pets and switched the genders. Almost like a remix of each others. :)

(Teen | possession of weapons and Natasha’s suspicious speculations)

I'm still working on a fill for you for last year (oops?), but here's something else:

Welcome To The Neighbourhood

Natasha glares at the door to her apartment, like that’ll help.

What kind of door locks automatically when it shuts? Okay, except annoying hotel room doors. And apparently doors in this damn building.

Come to New York, Fury had said. I’m putting together a specialist response team and I want you on it.

She should have stayed working the long undercover jobs that are her speciality. Then she’d have had her emergency kit on her, because undercover means never being off the job, instead of not having so much as a hair pin or an underwire from a bra she could pick the lock with. She wouldn't be here, stuck outside her new apartment wearing nothing but bright pink yoga pants and an old Ulitsa Sezam t-shirt that don't belong to any of her aliases, just her, because she’d decided to take advantage of an opportunity to just be herself for a change.

There’s a soft little meow sound from near the ground and Natasha transfers her glare to the stupid, skinny black cat pawing at her angle. It gazes back up at her beseechingly.

“I’m blaming you,” she tells it.

She’d followed the damn stray to make sure that it went out and stayed out - not because it was limping and she wanted to check that it was okay, not at all - and, well, the cat is definitely out of the apartment.

It’s just so is Natasha.

She can break in, but it’s too late in the evening to get a broken door fixed and she’ll have to barricade it for the night, which means she’ll be too on edge to sleep well, if at all. She could use the fire escape and smash a window, but: same problem. And having to explain either would be a great introduction to her new landlord - hi, I moved in two days ago and I already damaged the place.

She hasn't met him yet, just Simone who works from home - one of the third floor apartments - handling all the paperwork and day-to-day stuff. Natasha had signed a lease at the dining table while her kids were watching cartoons.

Natasha looked at places with better security, but people there were too nosey and she’d rather rely on her own security measures anyway. This is secure enough, but also laid back enough that she should be able to slip in and out without comment. It’ll do for now, while she’s adjusting to being stateside again.

Maybe she can get some recommendations for better places when she starts her new role on Monday. First time in... shit, almost a decade she’ll have been to SHIELD’s New York site.

“Um, hi?”

Natasha inspects the guy coming up the stairs: mid thirties maybe, hearing aids, short sleeves showing off a beautiful pair of arms, and carrying a bow, of all things, with a quiver slung over one shoulder. Great. A jock.

“Hi,” Natasha says flatly, looking away after she’s given him the once over.

“Have you… locked yourself out?”

She ignores him, because obviously.

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I keep meaning to replace the doors with something less...mean. Can you hold this for a minute?”

He hands her his bow. It’s heavier than she expected. And he’s an idiot for handing a complete stranger his weapon, even if he's used to viewing it as sports equipment.

“Okay, just let me - ”

Robin Hood rummages in a compartment at the base of his quiver, produces a set of lock picks - well-used, to Natasha’s professional eye - kneels down, and gets to work. He looks like he knows what he’s doing, which bodes well for Natasha getting back inside pretty soon with minimal damage. Although she’s not sure how she feels about sharing a building with someone this proficient at B&E.

“What are you doing?” she asks, pretending ignorance as an excuse to lean closer so she can keep an eye on what he’s up to.

“Well, it’s kind of my fault you locked yourself out of your apartment and you’re really cute and I can help -” he blushes as his brain catches up with his mouth. “Um, please don't ask why i’m carrying lockpicks.”

“Or I could ask why you’re carrying a bow?”

The lock clicks open, he gets to his feet, and she hands the weapon in question back to him. There’s something in the way he holds himself that reminds her of a ready fighting stance and makes her think he’d be just as dangerous without it, so she might as well give it back.

“It’s a hobby,” he says with a small smile, ducking his head, and if he’s not lying he’s at least not telling the whole truth.

Curious. She wonders if he's ever shot someone.

He pushes open the door, presumably to demonstrate that the problem is solved, and plants a foot in the gap to keep it that way. The cat strolls back inside and, whatever, Natasha doesn’t know what the policy is in this place about pets and how likely this guy is to rat her out when the odds are good he’s some kind of criminal, but the cat is definitely limping and way too skinny and Natasha doesn't have the energy to chase it out again.

“Thanks,” she says politely, ignoring the whole ‘cute’ thing. If he was mocking her Russian Sesame Street t-shirt she doesn't want to know. Sesame Street is educational gold and he can go to hell.

“No problem.” He moves his foot out of the way as Natasha walks past him. Before she can close the door in his face though he adds, “And, just so you know, I’m your landlord, not a burglar or anything, I promise. I’m Clint.”

He holds a hand out for her to shake. He has some interesting calluses.

Natasha has guns and explosives and god knows how many knives in her apartment behind her, not to mention her own lockpicks, and experience in using them. Far be it for her to judge. Although if he brings trouble back to this building while she's here, she's not going to put up with that shit.

“Natasha,” she replies, in the kind of tone that says this conversation is over now. As interesting as he’s starting to seem, he’s probably not worth the attention.

“Hi,” Clint says again, smiling and really not getting the hint. “So, um, do you have any hobbies?” he asks, waving his free hand at her t-shirt and apparently… Yes, he’s attempting to flirt.

“I shoot,” Natasha says. “Competitively.”

That's usually enough to put off most boys. Clint though, he breaks into a genuine grin of delight. It’s a good look on him.

“There's a great range I use four blocks away. Feel free to - y’know, if you want - ”

“Clint! Hey,” a young woman demands, coming down the stairs - late teens or early twenties, long dark hair tied back, and wearing casual clothes. “What’s taking so long?”

“Shit.”

“S’alright.” She waves away his guilt and eyes Natasha up and down, very obviously judging Natasha’s fashion choices and finding them amusing. “Just the pizza’s getting cold.”

“This is Kate,” Clint says. “Kate, Natasha just moved in.”

“Did she.”

“She shoots competitively.” He sounds very happy about this and Natasha has to bite her lip to stop herself from lecturing him on keeping his emotions in check rather than putting them on display for the whole world.

“Does she?” Kate smirks. “You should come to our range sometime.”

Natasha only refrains from rolling her eyes because she lives here and she doesn't want to have to move again right away just because she pissed off the landlord and his partner.

“Would you like me to beat you or your boyfriend?” slips out though. Natasha blames the fact that she's spent most of this evening with her guard down. It’s absolutely nothing to do with the kid’s attitude.

Clint blushes, but Kate laughs.

“Not my boyfriend. And if you can beat him I seriously wanna see that.” She grabs Clint by the wrist and tugs him away towards the stairs. “C’mon, Casanova.”

Natasha closes her apartment door as they leave - Clint half-turning to give her a little wave - but she doesn’t shut it completely until the sound of them bickering with each other has faded away.

As soon as there’s no gap that she can shove it out of the cat reappears, winding itself around her ankles and staring up at her. It really is too thin.

“What’re you looking at?” Natasha grumbles, but she's already mentally added cat food to the shopping list. And a trip to a certain local range in her calendar.


Edited 2018-02-25 11:26 pm (UTC)

EXCELLENT!

THANK YOU :D

WONDERFUL! I love who Natasha is in this and I would looove to see that shootout :)

THANK YOU! I think Clint would win...unless Nat distracted him ;) What do you think?

I LOVE this!

And Natasha's totally intrigued by Clint - she just won't admit it.

She also just won't admit that she now has a cat. :)

Aww yay :D

Yes and yes. So much denial, ha.

Ahhhhhh! More! More!

Aww, thank you! I know where it would go next, so potentially there might be...

YAY! *shameless enabling*