Whatever it is that you do for a living, put Clint and Natasha in your workplace/job. Either they're undercover or make it an AU.

They do say write what you know and, who knows, it might make you enthusiastic about going into work - for fic research *grins*.

LOL, the prompt we just talked about? I could easily merge it with this one. (And that social worker Clint and lawyer Natasha, they could easily work together in prevention of human trafficking or something equally horrible few years later. And yes, go and wonder about my job now. *G* )

Hmm, social worker, lawyer, something to do with rights...I think it sounds like you have a damn good job :D

I watched a film recently based on a true story about people trafficking, The Whistleblower, which was very good, but made me so angry. I don't think I could work in a job that dealt with that. Hell of a lot of respect for the people that do.

Psychologist. But I work with social services and there are days when I feel like a social worker. (and I know how to do most of their work!) You could describe this job as exciting - sometimes, and always stressful. (and underpaid! lol) Also, it's many parents I'd like to beat up often, Natasha style.

Child abuse usually makes me sick or furious or both. I can control my own reactions most of the time, but I have no idea how I'd react to human trafficking. But you know what is a great thing? Most of the time we help people patch things up, but every so often there's a case where you change someone's life. You know, bust - the - door - open - and - take - a kid - from an - abusive - home type of case. I had one like that, and that kind of thing changes you. In a good way :)

I repeat, only whilst showering you with respect, sunshine, and good things: Damn. Good. Job. :D

My last job I worked in banking and a call centre for a bank and I had some calls where things were, well, not good, and I know we weren't really trained for stuff like that and that wasn't our place to deal with it, but I felt absolutely useless. I'm hoping after this uni course that I can get into something where maybe I can do something positive, but I think at a distance. I'm no good at being close and staying objective, although I can image getting to change someone's life is incredible!

I talked this over with the girls I work with today. We decided this must happen! I'm working out the particulars tonight with the hopes that I can come up with something by this weekend. *grins* Because, really, I think everyone's lives will be richer once I put in all my frustrations into a fic where Natasha gets to do something about them!

I talked this over with the girls I work with today THIS, okay, this IS AMAZING. The Master Assassin love is now taking over work places LOL. Made Of Win :D

think everyone's lives will be richer once I put in all my frustrations into a fic where Natasha gets to do something about them! That was the road down which my brain had travelled. If I could have had Natasha and/or Clint at my last job that would have made everything better :)

*the high school drama teacher giggles hysterically*

Have you read Naked Pantomime in the Dark by samalander on AO3? High school theatre AU *grins*.

Dare you to write your own! :D

Yes, yes, yes, yes!!!!! It's on my list of favorite fics in this fandom! Hello!!! I would go so far as to say that I love it so much that I would have a hard time writing one that didn't mirror it. Sadness! I'll think about it... LOL *waves fetchingly*

I fear that I can't possibly give you entire thing that I'm working on in time for this promptathon, but I can give you a part of it.

*

*

Steve Rogers' restaurant has an odd name. It's called The Shield. It's an old fashioned place where you can eat food that's not necessarily healthy, but it's good for the soul. Clint orders more that they can possibly eat; along with chocolate cake that's one of restaurant's specialties. Peggy Carter, Steve's fiancee, brings two huge pieces. The table is covered with food and it all smells wonderfully. They eat in silence first. Clint is good in unobtrusive observing, while Natalie eats slowly. He starts talking only when some color has reached her cheeks again.

“That was pretty bad,” he says, leaving his words vague on purpose.

“It was,” she agrees and looks at him briefly.

“I know Coulson for, hm,” he pauses and thinks. “Five years now. He's a good guy. One who does his job like it's supposed to be done,” he says.

“He seems like a decent enough man,” she says. There's something about the way she speaks, the way she forms her every single sentence. Every single word feels measured and calculated, and as someone with hearing problems, Clint tends to rely on other sources of information. Those other sources are giving him confusing signals.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Well, I remember when he first came to work here. He worked in a small town. Few robberies and things like that. He puked the first time around too.”

“It wasn't my first time,” she says. Clint looks at her hands, how slowly they move as she's cutting her food and eating. He considers this, tries to guess her age, but he can't be sure. She is younger than him, but she's not inexperienced.

“I know what pushes my buttons,” he says. She looks up. “People who beat kids,” he points to his hearing aids. She's looking at him with a question in her eyes, like she's trying to connect everything she's seen and knows and make sense of what he's telling her. Honesty is his policy, so he continues. “My father did that to me when I was four,” he swallows, not sure how this is happening so quickly with her, but something in her eyes tugs at his heart. “I remember that,” he says and his voice catches a little. “I remember not hearing after that.”

She just looks at him, mutely. Several emotions cross her face, and she's not quick enough to cover the pain, he notices it. So it's not detachment that's the problem, he thinks.

“What do you do?” she asks somewhat clinically, but he can see that she's still shaken up.

“I feel angry,” he says. “Every time. I think how I'd beat them, but obviously, I don't do it. I just let myself feel it and not come in the way of my work.”

She nods. They continue eating in silence for some time. Then she turns to face the window pane. It's raining outside and the weather is appropriately gloomy.

“Emotional abuse,” she says quietly, and Clint starts wondering, but doesn't pry. He just watches her, knowing she's aware of being watched.

A few days later he stays late in the office. He searches nationwide database for Natalie Rushman, but doesn't come up with anything that matches her.

*

The months pass and Clint slowly pieces the puzzle. Natalie Rushman isn't cold; she is afraid of becoming too attached. She isn't rigid, she insists doing things by the book, because she doesn't want to overlook anything. She insists on every single possibility being used before concluding that nothing, indeed, can be done. She has a strong aversion towards colleagues who neglect their clients, and she's not afraid to call them up on it, which is why some people don't like her. She knows all of their cases by heart, just like Clint does, and she can definitely be relied upon.

Getting to know her is more difficult and slower. She appreciates Clint's easy going manner, the way he doesn't judge her and doesn't try to correct her. He does insist on conversations, even idle conversations, on having coffee together during a break, or discussing things like movies or music, even though she rolls her eyes at him. At first it's hard, and it's almost as if her lips are pried shut, so Clint spends a lot of time having monologues, but slowly she becomes more talkative. Sometimes she fondly mocks his taste, calls him old fashioned, and he doesn't mind, especially if he learns tidbits about her. She likes classical literature and ballet, and she is pleased when she discovers that he can hold an intelligent conversation about those topics (or religion, world economy, architecture, you name it; Clint is a walking encyclopedia of random knowledge and oddities) just as well as he can talk about car engines.

He tells her he's been raised by foster parents, that he's changed four foster families until he was lucky to come into hands of the Cutlers. She listens to his story quietly, like she always listens to important things. Then, unexpectedly, after a day they both deemed a success, she tells him she's been adopted.

He asks her if she remembers it, and she nods. Do you remember your parents, he asks, and she smiles, with her eyes shiny and wet. Clint feels how something in his chest tightens; it's a familiar feeling, it's something he can understand and relate to. He wants to hold her hand, but she doesn't move, sitting across from him in a quiet restaurant. He holds her with his gaze instead.

Soon after that they share a drink in a nice club after work and don't feel like social workers, (those people who constantly deal with delinquents and their parents). She tells him about a modern art exhibition she's been to, and they've laugh about Clint's car, which constantly needs something fixed.

“Nah, I'm not giving up on it,” he says, feeling light and content in his skin. “It's old, but it can still run just fine. I'm not going to replace something that works, just for the whim of it,” he says and takes a sip of his beer. Her smile saddens a little, and she moves her bright red hair behind her ear.

“Is that how you think of everything? Don't replace it, if it can run?”

He sighs and looks at her thoughtfully. “Well, not necessarily. I like old things. This shirt, for instance,” he says.

“I suppose it used to be purple in its heyday?” she teases lightly.

“Yeah, but what matters is that I've taken this shirt to all my big travels. I like old stuff that means something.”

“Oh, God,” she half laughs, “and that car was your first car, right?”

“No,” he laughs along and basks in the glow of her smile. “But it is the first car I've bought on my own,” he says.

“I'm impressed,” she toasts with her glass of wine, holds his smile for a moment longer, but then it slowly fades. “I have old things,” she begins, “but I'm not as good at holding onto them.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” he says. It feels like an entry to a different conversation, and judging by her face, the way she studies him, he's not wrong.

“My name isn't Natalie Rushman,” she says and looks at him cautiously, like she's bracing for his reaction. At this point he's aware that she has secrets, and that there are reasons for her being so guarded and cautious. He's aware that she's daring a risk right now, and his heart beats faster as she lowers her eyes to her hands, and then looks up at him again. “It's Natasha. Natasha Romanova. Or Romanoff, as my father preferred it.”

He looks. There's something vaguely familiar about her last name, but he pushes that thought at the back of his mind as more of her puzzle unravels.

“Natasha,” he says, testing her name on his tongue. He likes how it feels. It casts a different light on her, and it's somehow good for her; her striking eyes and red hair. “I like it. It suits you,” he says.

“Thank you,” she answers.

He isn't certain how to proceed. He knows that each and every bit of knowledge he's been given was earned; knows that she'd decided to tell him this.

“Did you change it?” he asks and she nods. “It sounds Russian,” is next what comes to his mind and it sounds dumb, but he doesn't want to hurt her or ask something she's not ready for.

“It is,” she says, and after that they're both silent.

“Natasha,” he repeats a bit later, after another sip of beer. He smiles and she smiles in return; and he realizes he's been allowed beyond that wall of hers.

*

Loved your version of the characters. Natasha has so many walls, and Clint doesn't knock them down so much as waits for her to open the doors. :)

Also cameo Steve and Peggy were wonderful. Of course Steve would run a restaurant, and it would have REAL food.

Title: How Can I Help You Today
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Corner Drugstore AU.

Clint and Natasha are Pharmacy Technicians. You know it's going to be a rough week when the first customer through the door makes you see red... and it's only Tuesday.

Of course, their issues are not singular. Everyone in the drug store has problems.

Snippet:
Clint swears he’s only been in Aisle Five for five minutes. Ten, tops. Three people have asked for Tylenol PM (has no one heard of the recall? That happened TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO?) without successfully finding it the first time with his instructions and he’s had to walk out to show them exactly where it is, each and every time. With his finger pointing at it. And sometimes moving the actual box. When they look at him with that look in their eyes that says that they don’t understand, he picks up the box of generic pain relief (SERIOUSLY! The recall was on the evening news of all the major networks for months!) and shows them where it says Similiar to Tylenol PM and then he explains how Tylenol PM is just acetaminophen and benadryl and they could get the brand name of both and take them together and... they never listen.

He’s counting off the exact number of steps it takes to get from the end of the aisle nearest the pharmacy counter so he can tell people how to get there without having to leave Natasha alone. Nothing good happens when Natasha gets left alone for very long.

The echoing “Excuse me?” and the muffled cry and amplified thump can be nothing good. “Steve,” Clint hollers as he goes running toward the back. He’s going to need back up if she’s gone after a customer again.

When he gets to the scene, Bruce is trying to assert himself between the red-haired girl and the older man. Clint wraps his arms around her waist and manhandles her away from the scene and into the back room. Steve comes to a screeching halt right behind him and helps Bruce pacify the man, getting him his prescriptions and drink of water.

“What was that?” Clint hisses as he sits Natasha on the ledge they use for everything from lunch room table to restocking counter. She doesn’t try to move away, only slumps in on herself, but he puts a hand on either arm to make sure she doesn’t get any ideas.

When she mumbles something, he uses a finger to lift her head up so they’re eye to eye. “What?”

“He came to the wrong window to pick up his prescriptions.”

Really, Clint knows he should read her the riot act for daring to treat a customer like that but it’s been days since her last encounter. Not enough time to forget the tirade he gave her last time but enough, obviously, to forget her promise.

“You just got here, Tasha. He was your third customer. It’s only Tuesday.”

She nods, miserable. “I really need this job.”

“I know you do. I’m the other half of your rent, remember?” He leans his head in until his forehead touches her bare collarbone. She smells like the orange cleaner she was using to clean off the counters earlier but nothing else. The one thing he loves about Natasha is that she always smells like herself. “You have to remember to smile at them, Tasha. Nothing else. Only smile.”

More at AO3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/482409)

Ok, that? That was kind of brilliant and really hilarious. :D I <3 it.

Today, I told co-worker Beth that I'd posted it and her first response was, "So, can I jump over the counter the first time someone makes me mad? Is it acceptable now that there's something out there in writing?" She makes me laugh.

And thank you! *curtsies* It was so much fun to write! More so than I thought it would be, actually!

Oh. My. Thor. And suddenly I have this vision of writing them all as teachers, as that's what I do...seriously, it never clicked until now... Wow, the thought of how students would react to Ms. Romanoff. *is fascinated*

See??? This is downright muse-ness! :D (And I'm sure that's a word. Somewhere. In the world. ...) :D

The only reason it clicked with me is because I had one of those Tylenol PM moments and my first thought was "What would Natasha do right this moment?" and I was off and running. Co-worker Beth and I had so much fun coming up with ideas. I have enough for three or four more stories but just took the bestest and put them all in this one.

Yes, go and write the Teachers of Glory fic! Go! Go! Write like the wind, Bullseye! Have them being awesome while doing the mundaneness of life!

*parks and rec flower shower gif* as someone who's employment involves customer service i appreciate this fic like woah. because how many times have i wanted to jump over the counter and strangle someone for their stupidity? like woah.

It seems like a once-an-hour activity on some days!

Thanks so much!

This is hilarious and brilliant. It's cheered me right up! Grinnig forever at Natasha's interaction with customers XD And Clint's brilliant approach to managing things in the shop, hoodied youths in particular. Also Bruce and Steve, perfect <3 Love!

Thank you! It was so much fun to write! And that Clint part gave me background!pheels but I'm refusing to listen to them *hands in ears* because that would be a continuation and I know it wouldn't be nearly as funny so it would only bother me. Maybe the history/background will come out later. We'll see!

I seem to have missed some of your fills for me for whatever reasons, sorry :( but now that I'm getting to read them I'm enjoying them a great deal!

It reads like you had great fun writing this one. Was it theaputic? *grins*. Having worked in retail I can easily envisage the trials and tribulations of customers and dealing with suppliers and what have you, but I didn't really need to think back because you bring the wierdness of the reality to life wonderfully. Had me grinning from ear to ear! And I loved all the touches that are uniquely Avengers, especially Natasha being prepared with a another phone after Bruce destroys it and how she handles the supplier LOL. And Clint's tactics for dealing with shoplifters! And Steve getting hit on! And how Bruce dealt with that, bwahahaha. Fantastic stuff :D

It was so therapeutic... and not just for me! Whenever someones asks a stupid question or, go forbid, asks where the Tylenol products are, my co-workers will shake their head and mutter, "I wonder if Natasha is working today." It's great fun! They keep pushing me to write a sequel but I don't know if that would be a good idea or not. There are some lovely ideas left over. Maybe I'll have to do the same thing with another fandom!

It was a great prompt! Thank you for the idea!