The Makeover
By, PeechTao
She happened upon them one stray evening. Entering Natasha's room wasn't initially part of her plan. Looking at them together caused even more of a fracs. Pepper Potts knew, just as all those who dwelled in Stark Tower, that Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov were an undeclared "thing". She hadn't seen any unscripted shows of affection. There were no stolen moments in broom closets from which they both emerged smudged and askew. But affection existed nonetheless, even if they never displayed it for the benefit of others.
The evening crept late. Tony planned a little getaway dinner for Pepper and him. She'd gone to Natasha's room on a whim to look for a different pair of earrings or necklace to borrow. Seeing them together, bent over the bathroom counter, erased her memory of exactly what she'd come in for to begin with.
The minute the two SHIELD agents sensed someone's approach, Clint and she pulled sharply apart. Natasha sat on the bathroom table top with her back against the mirror. Her lips were rose red, a favorite color of hers. One eye had a highlight of black liner while the other was not. She looked curiously at Pepper.
"Oh my gosh—I'm so sorry! I didn't think you'd be having, I mean, I didn't plan to find you all . . . well . . ." Pepper reeled back until her legs smacked into Natasha's bed and she only had the option to sit or fall down. Her hand covered her eyes, as if trying to block out the sight she'd been assaulted with.
"Pepper, what do you think we're doing?" Natasha asked. Her tone reflected the amusement.
Clint grinned, watching as Tony's girl slowly peeked out from beneath the cover of her fingers. When Pepper's eyes emerged, she realized at once the mistake she'd made. Clint stood in front of Natasha, a makeup brush in one hand and a container of eyeliner in the other. His mouth had a capped tube of mascara on one side with a spare make up brush beside that. He tucked a thin lip liner pencil behind his ear. She didn't miss the realization that Clint had all his clothes on and Natasha too had on a flowing blue sequin dress and delicate black pumps. If they'd been planning on anything intercourse related, the many layers pretty much prevented its fruition.
Natasha laughed. She asked. "Did I ever tell you Clint is a talented makeup artist?"
Pepper continued to sit, not sure of what else she should do. Her head wagged left and right.
Clint extracted the makeup tools from his mouth and set them on the counter. "I just picked it up when I was a kid. I worked in a circus. Learned everything about a smoky eye from a bearded lady named Agatha Frank. The lips? That was all Two-Bit Billy and his Wacky Clown Hoard."
Clint dusted his brush in the eye powder and delicately finished Natasha's other eye with the flare of an artist. "Natasha can manage good work herself in a pinch. But when it comes to this girly feminine crap, she likes to defer to my expertise in the area."
Natasha smacked his arm, which only made Clint smile.
Pepper rose from her small stupor and approached. She stood beside Clint's arm, watching him work with a practiced air. It was like observing a master makeup artist pump out thirty celebrities for a red carpet event.
"How do you do with hair?" Pepper asked lightly.
"I can manage a ponytail." He replied over his shoulder.
"I've got a date tonight with a 7th level KGB associate straight from the Czech Republic." Natasha told her. "Clint wants me to look my best so I can seal a night alone. Clint arranged for a private hotel room with some handcuffs under the mattress and, if I'm lucky, a private helicopter too."
"Only if you're lucky." Clint replied. "Fury still hasn't given me active duty clearance." He indicated the stitches along his face that extended back to his ear and the hunch he adopted to keep the pressure off his broken rib.
With a little finesse he put the finishing touches on her eye. He stepped back, turned her chin left, right, up, and down. Then he decided she was indeed a masterpiece and Pepper could but agree. Clint did amazing work. No one could refute that.
"All right, Pepper, you're up." Natasha hopped off the counter and patted a hand on the flat space cleared beside the sink. "Give Tony a good surprise and let Clint doll you up pretty for him."
Pepper held her hand out. "Oh, no, I couldn't—"
Clint picked her up around her waist and plopped her down on the counter top by force. He picked through Natasha's open makeup case for the colors he decided would be most appropriate and when he set a few choices out, he set to work. "Straighten your shoulders, pucker your lips, and smooth your face. I'm not going to tattoo this on or something so just relax."
Without being given a choice in the matter, and knowing full well her refusal of this exclusive service would hurt his feelings, Pepper did her best to follow his instructions and enjoy their little moment. The one thing she did appreciate about living in the Stark Tower was her chance to learn about the other men and women that Tony had to associate with. Everyone had their own individual story and background. Everyone suffered their own trials in life. Everyone was damaged. Perhaps that fact is what helped Tony so much since the attack on New York left him broken and unsure with himself. These people, odd as some of them were, healed him. That was something Pepper could never repay them for.
The outer door swung inward and another human found his way into Natasha's room. Instead of trying to track down jewelry, this man was looking for Pepper herself.
"Pep, you finished yet? Our reservation's at—" Tony's voice cut out upon witnessing what he considered at the time a compromising position between one Pepper Potts and Clint Barton. Without missing a beat Stark rushed him. The two collided. Clint flew off sideways and the two came crashing down to the floor in a heap.
Their pile of flailing arms and legs with the shower of makeup products landed directly beside Natasha's foot. The assassin looked over at Pepper. She said, "I think we might have to start locking the door when we have Clint fool around with us."
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