Now that I’ve mostly finished that other thing I was working on, I can get back to the good stuff. Namely, Half Baked. Thanks for your patience guys, updates should be much more frequent.
Half Baked (3/?)
The Avengers|KitchenAU|Mature|~1500
Since things are getting recced etc, I thought I’d just put up a little note saying that no, I’ve not completely forgotten about everything.
I’m doing a separate writing challenge for Lent (I don’t give things up, I set myself a challenge) and once that’s done I’ll be back to writing Half Baked (and maybe a little Dancing in the Dark snippet I’ve got on the back burner).
Sorry it’s taking so long!!
As requested by notapsychopath
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. xx
The Avengers|Clint/Natasha|Teen|~900
Eyes on the Prize
He knows she doesn’t care.
He know she doesn’t care.
Montenegro was probably beautiful and romantic, but all he had seen of it was the short ride to a shitty apartment and the view through a sniper riffle. They had been here for a week now and he was tired of waiting for the target to show up. He just wanted to take the shot and head back to his bed. It was, in short, like pretty much every other place he and Natasha had been in the last six months with the exception of the coffee. Goat milk and Nescafe had lost its charm after the first gulp and now the place was now littered with Coke cans. Dates purposefully didn’t matter to him, but his job was to watch and when he saw an unusual amount of men carrying flowers it didn’t take a genius to figure things out. The thing was, they weren’t dating. Occasionally sleeping together, yes. Screwing each other into mattresses? All the time. But they never went anywhere together SHIELD didn’t send them and if a week went by when they didn’t see each other, well, shit happened. No cute text messages, no long emails and phone calls only for work purposes. They worked well as a team and if Fury suspected that anyone knew he would reassign them in a second. A relationship was a potential weakness to be exploited by anyone who noticed it.
None of this changed the fact that it was February 14th and Clint wanted to see her smile. Not her fake smile, but that genuine one he saw when he did stupid things that made her laugh.
“Tasha?” Her eyes snapped open and he felt guilty. Six hours on, six hours off was the pattern and she had just put her head down.
“Target?”
“Possible. I need to follow.” It was a lie, but a small one. He closes the door and waiting barely a second to hear the lock click. He worried, not that she couldn’t take care of herself, but that someone would think she was alone and create more paperwork. A minute later he’s on the street and heading towards the market with a goal. Flowers, some of those olives with feta in them, and then back to the apartment in ten minutes flat. Clint breaks into a run.
He’s haggling over the price of gerberas in his shitty Montenegrin when she calls.
“Target?” he asks immediately.
“Tagged. I told you to clean up the fucking Coke cans yesterday. We’re out of the country in 30 minutes, get yourself to the airport.” She hangs up on him and Clint calmly pays the man, grabs the flowers and walks out of the market. Running now would be a dead give away and as he hears the sirens get closer he hails a cab and asks to be taken to the airport. He eats a couple of olives as the world speeds past and wonders if he should throw the flowers out the window. There is a good chance she’ll be upset with him, but when he sees her standing in front of the helicopter he knows the mission hasn’t been compromised and it’s fine. Her eyebrows shoot up at the flowers and he shrugs a reply.
“Bought them for Fury, thought he could use a little love. Olives are the in-flight meal.”
She snickers every time their eyes meet on the flight back, as they pass the olives back and forth, and when he gives Fury the flowers on the Helicarrier deck he actually thinks she’s going to vibrate apart. The flowers end up in a trash can and Clint ends up in a two hours debrief filled with repeated use of the word ‘priorities’. By the time he gets out the flowers are gone and he thinks he should be happy that at least she got the olives. Well, half of them.
Two nights later when he opens the ceiling panel in her room the second thing he notices is the vase with gerberas on the bedside table. The first thing he notices is her smile.
“So you did care.”
“For stupid romantic gestures on a commercialised holiday that could have jeopardized our professional and personal relationship? No.” She grins up at him as she shifts over to give his feet room as he lowers himself down to the bed. He snuggles in besides her, cramped in the twin bed and sighs against her neck. “But you cared for this to actually have the balls to hand Fury seven half dead gerberas, and that…makes me feel pretty good.”
“Only pretty good? I’m going to have to make you feel better.” He kisses her neck softly, careful not leave a mark. “I’m going to have to make you feel better. 100%. SHIELD agents have to be in tip top condition.” They’re smirking now, dangerous plans and counter plans for the night forming in their minds. She covers his mouth with hers and stretches his arms over his shoulders.
“I’m pretty sure it’s my turn to show you how much I care.”
Clint doesn’t tell her that he already knows.
What Makes the Man
The Avengers|Clint/Bruce|Teen|~900
In the end, Clint just burrows against him one movie night.
Because, of course, I felt the need to write 800 words of explicit porn tonight. Prompt was Clint/Natasha- adrenaline rush, laughter, public place. I really, really mean explicit. And unbetaed.
Junkies
The Avengers|Clint/Natasha|Explicit|~800
This one has me pretty good. You can read the first part here
Half Baked (2/?)
The Avengers|KitchenAU|Mature|~1500
Just a little Clint Barton centric AU I’ve been mulling over in my mind for a while. Warning for drug use.
With the utmost thanks and respect to Anthony Bourdain, author of the book Kitchen Confidential on which I based some of the name and experiences. The rest, for good or evil, are memories of my own time serving on the line.
Half Baked
The Avengers|KitchenAU|Pg-13|~1300
This is my therapy fic, which isn’t to say that I don’t welcome constructive criticism on it (always!) but it’s to say that it’s possibly the most personal thing I’ve written in a long time. Warnings for language and possible adultery, depending on how you look at things.
You can’t start a fire, worryin’ about your little world falling apart
(Dancing in the Dark 3/?)
The Avengers|Clint Barton/Phil Coulson|Pg-13|~2300
In his mind, recovery ends when his pass lets him back into the gym, the armoury and the ranges. Even when he had moved himself to the mansion he would make the daily pilgrimage Stark Tower as soon as he felt there was a chance. He would take the train, jostled by the commuters, just so he could be absorbed in his own thoughts without being accused of being antisocial.
I might have lied about that Bruce Banner/Clint Barton thing. Written for the Canadian Shack 2011 Challenge, because although I’m working on the next part of Dancing in the Dark this just sprang fully formed.
Cold Comfort
The Avengers|Clint Barton & Bruce Banner (pre-slash)|Gen|~1000
The inevitability of them ending up in a Canadian shack is not lost on him. It’s cold, the same blistering cold that he felt in Russia but worse because in his mind it didn’t get this cold in North America.
About the only thing that interests me in the whole Clint/Bruce pairing is that it’s essentially a threesome with a huge power and control dynamic. The idea I had didn’t fitting into the series I’m writing, so this became a one-shot.
Terms and Conditions
The Avengers|Clint Barton/Bruce Banner/Hulk|NC-17|~1000
