January 24, 2019:
Natasha and Clint have a chat after Clint does a workout and stinks.
Characters
NPCs: None.
Mentions:
Plot:
Mood Music: [*\# None.]
Fade In…
Deep in the bowels of the Triskelion, far below the public facing beauty of the technological marvel, lies the depths of the building's infrastructure. Old levels that were at first created to be shelters and storage vaults. Not initially intended for human occupation beyond occasional sorties into the down below to gather what materials were kept there. But over the years, as equipment has moved around and the gear has relocated, some of the tall warehouse sized rooms have emptied out and few of the bean counters remember they exist to put any gear back into place. Nobody uses them anymore, really.
Well, except for Clint.
It takes work to be this good. To give the impression of such casual expertise and perfection. His smirking happy go-lucky attitude rubs a few people the wrong way, but it helps create the mystique of Hawkeye. The guy who never misses. The guy who can saunter in off the street and place twenty out of twenty in the bullseye.
Very few people see the work he puts into it. And this makeshift gym down below is one of the main reasons for that. The door has a unique code lock that sometimes flashes up an out of service display for anyone casually wandering there. But when Clint makes the trek far below he slips in with a keycard of his own, steps inside and hits the old factory lightswitch on the wall. After the few seconds and the lound /KachunkS!/ of power coming on, eventually it illuminates the area. An area with old scavenged gear. A firing range. A rack of free weights. A few mats and some gymnastic equipment. All he uses to keep in shape the long hours when people think he's out and about fiddling around or enjoying the nightlife.
And this late at night he's hanging from a bar that extends two feet out from the wall. Wearing just a pair of jersey shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, he's hanging on with sweat pouring from his brow. His clothes cling to him from all the hours of exertion he's spent here, the lines and contours of his muscular arms as he _strains_ for the next pull up, the t-shirt ride up his neck as he forces himself through that. Then he drops down and hangs there as he groans to himself and mutters, "One more, Barton. C'mon ya slack bastard." As he grunts again and starts to process all over.
And Natasha is here too. Quite suddenly, actually. She literally appears out of seemingly no where to the point that Batman might even be surprised.
"I agree with the last part." She says in that dry tone of voice of hers. She's not far away from him, actually seated on some of the items that had been pshed out of the way of this training space that Clint had setup for himself. Her sudden appearance is so sudden and so oddly out of place that someone might start to question if she's evena real person, or if they're suffering from some kind of mental breakdown and she's a figment of their imagination. A very pretty one no less! If a bit… scary and dour at times.
After she looks around she puts her eyes back on him. "Come on, Rocky. Do it." She teases him. "Apollo's going to beat you into the next century." Has she ever even seen those movies? Probably not. Maybe the one with the Russian though.
Nat's in her full black widow garb, suggesting she just got back from a mission though.
His head turns to the side and he scrunches up one eye, looking… /entirely/ in pain and struggling to hold on. He scowls to himself as he _slooooowly_ begins to pull himself up. "Ya know, Nat…" He pullllls harder, groaning and reaching up and over even as every nerve ending in his chest and arms are screaming at him. Once he makes it there he grunts and then /drops/ down to the mats below and grimaces as he leans against the cement wall.
Turning a little he looks at her, still huffing a bit and then pushing a rough and calloused hand over his hair and slicking it back. "Every couple needs some space. Some secrets." He flares his hands a bit with each statement.
"You don't just saunter into a fella's man cave uninvited." He takes a deep breath and stalks over towards the pommel horse and yoinks the towel he had left there, using it to mop at his brow.
She watches him as he drops down to the mats and thuds against them, then she looks away down to her left thigh where she pulls a Snickers bar out of her left holster… it had no gun it it, but it did have that candy bar in it, wherever she got it from. As he speaks she glances up at him, raising her eyelashes to stare up at him while she unwraps the candy.
"This is a man cave?" She asks then after he speaks. She gives a light glance to the right then back down to her candy bar as its unwrapped halfway down its length. "I thought those things needed televisions with football on them, and walls with football things on them… and… video games, about football."
The redhead then raises her treat up and bites into it, then stares at him as she chews on it, her jaw moving in casual rhythmic biting motions. "This is more of a middle aged man's secret gym, I think." She says, through the candy… full mouth talking!
"See, you think you're teasing me." He steps towards her, and to be fair… he really could use a shower. But to be fair she's seen him in a worse state with their years fighting together. "But I woke up today and while I was shavin' you know what I saw?"
He reaches over and seems like he's about to take her snickers bar, but then stops and instead just grabs the water bottle from the end table nearby. A few swallows, then he sets it back down and seems refreshed a bit.
He moves back and stands in front of her, leaning to the side a bit as he holds his hand out towards her. Then points at the back of his hand. "You see that?"
He waits for her to look, and then adds, "Right there? Wrinkles." He gives a nod, "I'm gettin old, Nat. Not all of us have chemical concoctions in our bods keeping us young." And, to be fair, there amongst the few scars and the callouses are indeed… a certain weathered look on the back of his hand.
Natasha's eyes follow his hand as he reaches out toward her candy, then she watches him wisely change course and reach over to get a water bottle instead. She THEN watches him as he speaks and indicates the wrinkles on the back of his hand… she stares at his hand for a moment before her green eyes shift and look up at his own eyes. Her right hand reaches up and she points at his face.
"There're more, up there, under your eyes." She says, further teasing him. That joke only lingers a moment, just for the jab. Then she smiles at him and shakes her head. "Stop it." She says to him as she looks/drops her eyes back down to the Snickers bar she's got a single bite from. "You're not that old. I'm just giving you a hard time." She pulls the wrapper down a little further. "Plenty of time to find some other freakish super soldier serum out there to give to you, to keep you around so I can haunt you for a lot longer."
"Yeah, clearly I should stop workin' out and just trust we'll wrangle up a Steve Rogers cocktail for me." He grins and looks down at his foot for a moment, then back at her with a smirk. "M'sure the brass wants ta keep you happy, but I'm also pretty sure they'll be damned pleased once I take my pension and chapter on outta this outfit."
A snort slips from him and then he leans against the pommel horse, arms folding over his chest. "But you get my point, right? Gotta keep on keepin' on." Then he waves a hand over towards the door, "So how long have you known about this place, or just discovered it tonight? If so what gave it away?"
He fans his chest with the collar of his t-shirt, trying to cool down a bit, "And you just get back?"
Natasha takes another bite from the candy bar before he leans against that piece of equipment and then she looks up at him and gives him a little 'look'. "Someone's in a mood tonight." She mutters athim, her husky voice sounding a bit disappointed in his behavior and statements thus far. But she lowers the half eaten candy bar and sets it down then places her hands on either sides of her legs and gently swings her feet.
"Whats going with you?" She has to ask then. "Did you have a bad day?" She looks around the room again and shakes her head. "I'm a spy, anything I tell you is likely a lie anyway, remember?" She gives him one of her signature half-smirks then. "A week or so, I saw you sneak down here and I followed, but decided to leave you alone. Tonight, I just tracked you down to see what was up."
"To be fair I'm only half-serious." Clint says as he gestures with one hand away from his bicep, but then tightens his arms up after that. "Not a bad day, to be fair. Just small things." His jaw extends a little as he chews on the inside of his cheek, tongue digging in there for a moment as if delving for the answers somehow. But then his eyebrows rise as he looks away… then back.
"Feel like I'm losin' a step. Spendin' mosta my time training the newbies. That jaunt with Tony and the X-ers, which those guys… they're grade A jerks who were there just for their own little thing."
A breath, then he grunts, "But just sayin' I'm feeling like I'm too often waiting on deck when I used to be out in the field all the time."
Natasha shakes her head side to side. "You're not only half serious, Barton." She replies to him then as she drops off of the table she was seated on. "I know you well enough to know that you mask your emotions behind a bro-dude vaneer that is about 'this thin' when you're stressed out." She motions the 'this thin' part with her left hand (which is wearing a black leather fingerless glove on it) her forefinger and thumb almost touching tips together.
"The X-Men are self-righteous a-holes. Its because they're a civilian paramilitary team. They live together, train together.. and do god knows what else together. They're not going to be nice to outsiders like us, especially ones who aren't mutants 'suffering' from the social stigma of all of that."
She steps over to him and grins again at him. "Relax, all right? People like having you on missions. Remember? Because you got people's backs. You never miss. Except those times I've seen you miss." She then whispers. "I'm still not going to tell anyone about those though."
"Don't expect them to be nicey-nice. Just kinda freaky seeing them run off after their Professor while normal people are still struggling." He lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing there awkwardly. "It's like a cult or something." But at that last he smiles a little, though her other observations he sort of nods along with.
At that latter part he snorts a touch, rolling his eyes as he glances away. "Hey, if you're talking about that one time it was because I sneezed." He did not sneeze. Clint lowers his hand though and meets her eyes with his just half-smiling a little sardonically. "But I get what you're saying." A brief moment then he adds, "And thanks, Nat."
That said he heaves a chuckle and adds, "Ya might not wanna get too close, I'm pretty ripe."
Natasha grins lightly at him about the cult part. "Its a brotherhood." She corrects him. "You know how those are. They stick together, fiercely." She moves toward him then to grab that water bottle and just as he says 'ripe' she exhales sharply and emits a "Whew." and then does indeed step away.
"You're like what I imagine that monster man was from that movie about those kids searching for a pirate ship." The Goonies? Did she just call him Sloth?
She turns to the side then and takes a few steps away to lean back against that table she'd been seated on, then takes a drink from his cold water supply.
"We'll find you a way to stick around as long as Steve and I are likely are going to. Don't worry." How many of the Avengers are 'suffering' from a long life anyway? "I need someone to suffer with after all." And then she aimed his bottle at him at him and squeezed it to squirt a spout of water across the space btween them at his chest.
Laughing he steps back a short half-hop with his hips swerving to try and get out of the way but she's able to slosh him good even as he holds his shirt out away from his torso but suddenly he's /soooo cold/ that he winces and exhales a half-laugh half-growl.
"Jerk," It definitely has an effect, that white t-shirt turning transparent, goosebumps coming to life as his flesh responds. She can see his well-developed chest, each line of the firm musculature, then the taut abs as he takes up the t-shirt in both hands and starts to gather it up so he can /twiiiist/ it and let some of the water fall off.
Still shaking out his hands and the shirt he shakes his head and says, "You're in a mood, Nat. C'mere…" He spreads his arms wide and smirks evilly, "C'mere, I know what you need. You want a hug, you evil old harpy of a woman. C'mere babushka." And unless she flees he is going to give her _such_ a hug with wet shirt and stinky guy smell.
Natasha has moments of levity almost as much as the next person. Sure she doesn't really ever break out into laughter, but how many Russians ever really do? Especially publicly.
"I was doing you a favor!" She exclaims back at him as he approaches her and she doesn't in fact move but she does raise her right hand up to plug her nose just before he reaches her and embraces her. She's a lot shorter than him so she just stands there with her nose plugged.
She also takes a serious hug about as well as a cat takes one of thos thundershirts, she becomes locked up and unsure of how to proper process body movements. "Don't call me old." Natasha says to the man then, with a nasal-y voice since she's pinches her nostrils shut to avoid his manly musky odor.
To be fair he expected her to break and run, or to give him a thumping. But she doesn't run so she PAYS THE PRICE! And he does slip his arms around her to share in the too cold chilled ice water and then when she covers her nose he /shakes/ his head to get beadlets of guy sweat just everywhere and it's just… ugh.
But his arms are warm as he holds her, strong and tensed from the long work out that had taken so much effort. And the smell might not be that terrible, sure a shower would be good but it's an honest and legitimate scent earned from hard work and effort. Nothing wrong with that.
"You're not old, Nat." He waits for her to look up at him, his arms crossed gently at the small of her back as he smiles, the light in his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oldish? Maybe?" But perhaps he sees a flare in her gaze and he adds, after a deep breath and a slow exhale, his chest rising and falling against hers. "But beautiful."
Natasha continues to keep her nose plugged with her fingers as he shakes himself clean like a dog, which also gets her to clamp her eyes shut until it passes. She allowed this all for… who knows why! Maybe she thought he needed it, maybe she needed it? Probably not the latter, she's always professed how she needs no such interaction to stay perfectly happy, but then again… she's a spy. They lie.
"Gross." She says after feeling the sweat-dog-shedding.
The rest however does make her look up and when he retracts most of his previous statement and replaces it with an honest compliment she just stares at him, perhaps to an awkward level of silence lingering. But then? She smiles.
"Thats sweet." She says, in a very dry tone, i.e. her usual tone of voice when she's being herself and not pretending to be anyone for a 'job' like he's heard her do before for others. She places her hand onto his chest and she pats him a couple of soft times.
"But you still smell like a used gym sock."
"Yeah," Clint grins and then steps back, letting her free as he turns and reaches for the towel again. He wipes down his hair and the back of his neck some as he starts to walk away. "I know, lemme go get a shower and we can go get something to eat. Alright?"
He starts to walk away and to be fair she can read the weariness in each step, likely he'll be sore in the morning but doubtful he'll complain. Over his shoulder he calls to her, "Figure out what you want to eat and we'll go grab something." His footsteps head over to the industrial shower area that's hidden behind a curtain. Normally used for first aid situations, washing chemicals or the like off of someone, Clint on the other hand has put a small length of sheet on a wire offered as a hint towards modesty.
"No thai food, though. Tired of Kimchee."
Natasha separates from the man and she looks down at herself in her full black suit and gear. "Now I have to send this to the cleaners and I just got it out of research and development…" She sighs big then. Teasing, maybe. She generally cleans her suits herself, if one knows her well enough they'll know that! Natasha doesn't let any of her gear go into anyone else's hands.
"I already know what I want." She says to him then as she picks up the remainder of that candy bar and starts to turn to walk back toward the entrance with her holster swaying against her thighs.
"There's a new Chinsese Food place near the Trisk. They do a live sword fighting show as they prepare your food. I want to watch them beat the tar out of each other while I feast upon their filling, yet not filling cuisine."
And as she walks she continues to wipe at herself, and sniff at herself too to see if she stinks like him now…