So it seems like I have uploaded anything in forever...
I've been working like heck over this one, and it's still... bleh. Oh well. :|
Title: And We Dance
Rating: T for language
Summary: Then she smelled something burning. God, Clint! Pepper/Clint challenge fic.
Inspiration: Watchin' 'Iron Man: Armored Adventures' Episode something or other 'The Hawk and the Spider'... :/ poor Clint :'(
Pepper tried to ignore the thrum of base as she looked over the reports for Stark. She sometimes wondered why she put up with this man and his fucking shitty music. She couldn't even understand what they were saying.
"Clint, turn your damn music off. I'm trying to work!"
"Relax, Pep. You need to loosen up," he waved her off. She was sitting on the couch in their room, papers spread in front of her and beside her and on the ground at her feet. Clint was lying on their bed, hands behind his head.
They'd been together for five or six months, living together for two. Now she had work to do and he was being an asshole.
"God! I'm going to the office, then," she stood up, quickly stacking up her papers and shoving them haphazardly into her binder.
She turned to storm out the door, but suddenly Clint was up and his hand was on her wrist.
"Wait!" I'm sorry, I'll turn it off, okay?" he pleaded. Pepper looked at him and pointedly rolled her eyes.
"I need to speak with Tony, anyway. Let me go," she yanked her wrist away from him and surged out the door of their studio apartment.
Clint ran a hand through his hair. "Shit," he turned to the radio at the head of their bed and clicked it off.
Pepper strolled briskly into the office of Stark Enterprises. She sat behind the large desk and set her papers out in front of her. She sighed, relaxing her tense muscles with her hands. She pulled out her pen and started filling out paperwork.
She worked late into the afternoon, and by the time she had any time to look at the clock, it was nearly eight o' clock. She took a deep breath and picked up the phone and dialed their number.
"Hello?" Clint asked from the other end.
"Hey, I'm coming home. What do you want me to pick up?"
"Oh… I, uh, I already ate," he said hastily.
She exhaled, irritated. Clint was really pissing her off. "Seriously? Did you leave any for me? What did you eat?"
He paused, "Macaroni. I got plenty for you. Just zap it in the microwave."
Pepper groaned away from the phone and let some air out through gritted teeth, glaring at the phone receiver.
"Fine, I'll be home in twenty minutes," and with that, she hung up, not giving Clint a chance to say anything else. She thumped her forehead to her desk and rested it there for several seconds, then grunted, deciding that she'd better get going.
It was raining on her way home. The traffic was horrific. People were being complete idiots, and she was tempted to simply exit her car and walk home.
By the time she got home, it was getting to be nine thirty. She was so tense it hurt to move. She took off her heels as soon as she got inside. They were quickly discarded and she sat on the stairs and massaged her feet. Then she smelled something burning. God, Clint!
She race to the kitchen… to find two fat red candles burning on the kitchen table. There were no lights on in the kitchen, and no sign of Clint or any macaroni he had claimed to have made. There was a note beside the candle on the table.
She couldn't help but smile as she picked up the small piece of red cardstock. She opened it to find the gold words etched into it.
'The stairs' was all it read.
She replaced the note on the table and went back to the foot of the stairs. When she first came in, she was too stressed to notice the trail of flower pedals leading upstairs. She continued to smile as she climbed the steps, following the trail into their bedroom.
The curtains were drawn and the door to their balcony was open, letting in the cool night breeze. She cocked her head to the side and went out to the balcony.
A little round table was set up, two long pink candles illuminating the scene. Clint sat in the farther chair.
Her smile widened when she noticed how well he cleaned up- a nice suit jacket over white button up and long pants. He stood and embraced her, and Pepper had to suppress a giggle when he pulled out her chair and scooted it in when she sat.
"What's all this?" she asked.
He just smiled and briefly when into the apartment, leaving her. He quickly returned with a large plate of food, placing a plate in front of her, and then in front of his chair. He placed a palette of salad dressings on the table to one side. Then he went about placing a two champagne glasses and pouring a generous amount into each glass.
"Clint, what's this all about?" she asked again. He blushed and placed the champaigne on the ground near the slider door.
"It's, uh… it's our half-year anniversary." He said sheepishly.
Pepper could've just melted right there. One) she forgot their six month anniversary- she didn't know he was keeping track! Two) Clint just looked so… gorgeous in the tux he was wearing. Three) looking around her, she could tell he'd been working on the setup all day. She could feel herself blush, too- he was just being so adorable. "Oh, Clint." He reclaimed his seat across from her.
"You know that little Italian restaurant on Powell's you like?"
"Yeah…?"
"I ordered everything from there. Oh!" He hoped up. "One second!" and he ran bck in and Pepper could hear him rushing down the stairs and rummaging through the kitchen.
And then he reappeared and he had a vase with a Daffodil in it and two forks. She laughed quietly and took the fork, which made Clint blush even deeper. She hadn't even noticed the lack of silverware.
He took his seat once again and placed the vase in the middle of the table. He motioned for her to try the salad, so she picked up her fork and took a dainty forkful of it to her mouth.
He smiled, satisfied by her expression, and began to eat, too.
Soon they were both done with their salad. Clint seemed too embarrassed to be able to coherently start a conversation, and gave up after several attempts. Pepper was still too surprised to think of anything to talk about. He took their plates silently and went back to the kitchen.
Pepper smiled and ran a finger over the smooth pedal of the daffodil. She'd never specifically told Clint that daffodils were her favorites. It was really sweet of him to notice.
And he was back with plates of spaghetti. It was steaming, and Pepper hoped he didn't microwave it. Microwaves, when reheating, tended to just zap the food of all flavor. The food was set before her and she could smell the fresh tomato and noodles.
He placed a napkin and new fork beside her hand and refilled her champagne- she hadn't realized she had drunk so much already. He sat, again, and took a sip from his glass, watching Pepper over the rim of it.
"So, how long have you been planning this?" Pepper asked, twisting her fork through ht he noodles.
He blushed and ran his fingers through his hair. "About… a month? I got some help from friends…."
"Oh? How so?" she took another bite of spaghetti and washed it down with the (delicious) champagne. She hoped one of Clint's 'friends' (Tony) had clued Clint in on the daffodils and the Italian restaurant she liked.
"Jan helped me with the suit," he motioned to his getup, "Tony let me borrow some of his stuff," he waved his hand at the candles and plates (and champagne and glasses and candle holders and tablecloth and…). Pepper just realized he had also put up the strings of light and decorations. "And Steve was… moral support," he finished, sheepish again.
"So, is that what the music was all about earlier?"
"I had to get you out of the house. I wasn't meaning to make you that made, though."
"Oh, it okay," she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. His blush reappeared again. "Why are you so embarrassed? I've never seen you blush before."
"I –I don't know. I just want tonight to be really special."
"Clint, do you know how cute youa re?" Pepper fought the urge to pinch his cheeks. Clint glared at her sarcastically with rosy red cheeks.
And then she realized- he said he ordered everything from the little Italian restaurant. She always went out to the Russian bakery across the street from the Italian place for dessert.
She was doenw tih her spaghetti before she even registered it, and Clint went ot put the dishes away and get dessert.
It wasn't that she hated the Italian desserrts, it's just… she didn't like them. The last time she ate Italian desserts, she had gotten sick. She knew it was probably coincidence, but still. If that happened tonight, that would be just too embarrassing. She would have to think of a good excuse to not eat the dessert so Clint didn't feel bad.
He came back with a silver plate and silver lid on that.
"I think you're gonna really like this," he looked really proud of himself and Pepper started to feel really bad.
He took the lid off and she was presented with several small pastries. "'Tasha helped me. I would tell you what they're called, but I've always been horrible at pronouncing Russian."
Pepper looked at the pastries blankly. He… how'd he know about her liking for Russian goodies?
"Pep?" he asked, worried. Then it all caught up to her and she started to feel all warm and fuzzy. 'Oh, Clint. You will never cease to amaze me' she thought to herself, taking on of the pastries and popping it into her mouth. He watched her hopefully and Pepper vaguely wondered how she ended up with this darling of a man (though she'd never actually call him 'darling').
"Mmm… This is really good, Clint!" He smiled and she nearly fell out of her seat from excess cuteness. She felt like a fangirl. She wanted to smack him on the arm and tell him to stop being so fucking cute.
She took another and Clint sat the plate down in front of her.
She looked at him and asked, "Don't you want any?"
"Have as many as you like," he assured her, waving her on. She cocked and eyebrow at him, but he shrugged, so she took another.
"Jeez, this is so good I could eat them all day."
"Be sure to tell that to Natasha. She mostly made them. I tried to do different things to help, but I ended up just having to cut the circles of out the dough," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "I said too much, huh?"
"No, you didn't. You're too sweet. Say, how'd you know I liked Russian pastries?"
"I , uh, asked around. Mr. Zavattoni- the owner of your Italian restaurant- said that you didn't ever order any dessert dishes there, so I started wondering if you simply didn't eat any. But I wanted to be sure, so I started asking around the block and Mrs. Bereznity, the owner of the bakery, said you came in almost every week."
"Wow, you put a lot of effort into this, huh?"
"UH, no… not really. It's really the least I could do. You always work so hard, and I know I can be a stubborn jerk at times, and I wanted to really celebrate the fact that you've put up with me for this long." He looked down at his hands, which were clasped together on the table in front of him.
Awwww… Pepper crooned in her head. Clint was so used to just being… thrown to the side. Who would ever just throw him away? He was so sweet! Heartless bitches…
"Awww… Clint, you're too sweet." She knew she had said that before, but she just couldn't refrain from saying it again. She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He half-glanced to the side and smiled shyly. Pepper leaned up carefully and kissed Clint on the cheek.
She leaned back and took a moment to look at Clint.
Now she thought about it, Clint looked rather uncomfortable in the tux he wore. His hair was slightly disheveled, probably due to repeatedly climbing the stairs. He was still a bit red, and now he also had a mouth-shaped smudge of ruby red lipstick on his cheek. If she were anyone other than Virginia Pepper Potts, she'd've melted right then and there. Just, given up the attempt to do or think about anything other than this charming young man before her. But she was, so she didn't.
And suddenly she was really tired and all that paperwork and everything at the office caught up with her, and her shoulders tensed painfully. She rubbed them below where her neck met her shoulder.
"Oh! Let me!" and Clint jumped up and knocked her hands away and started rubbing her shoulders. His hands were callused and strong from years of wielding his bow and arrow, and he knew exactly how execute a shoulder-rubbing like this. He used just the right amount of pressureand she started to lean back against him.
It felt like only a minute or two before he stopped to bend down and whisper something in her ear, but it was probably more like twenty minutes.
"So, uh, I was thinking…" he whispered, his voice growing smaller and smaller as his sentence progressed, until it got to the point that she could absolutely not understand him anymore.
She smiled and looked back at him and asked, "What?"
He swallowed audibly and repeated, "So I was thinking that we, maybe, could like, uh, try- I mean-" she cut him off at this point with a hand on his, which was still on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.
"Calm down, Clint. Just breath and finish your sentence."
He did as she said and tried again, "I wanna try… dancing."
That's all? she thought. "Sure, why not?" She stood.
He looked at his feet, "Well, uh…"
"You don't know how to dance, huh?" she asked quietly, and died a little inside when he glared at his shiny black dress shoes and nodded slowly. "So you want me to teach you?" he nodded again. She smiled like a little, but quickly covered that up. He was so much like… a little kid. He needed her, and the feeling was nice.
"Well, you put your hands on my waist. I put my hands on your shoulders. I'm gonna say, as your first time, we should just slow dance. I'm too tired for anything else, anyway." Shestarted swaying back and forth. He looked a bit confused.
"You just sway," she instructed. He was looking down at his feet as he did as he was told, making sure he didn't trip or step wrong. Her feet were still bare.
"Oh!" he stepped back from her and rushed inside. He could hear him move around the bed, popping open some kind of case, and then there was music playing. He reappeared, and resumed their position.
"When the lights… go down… in the cit-ay…" the music started. She shok her head slightly, smiling.
"I love this song."
At this, he seemed to take courage and stepped closer, wrapping one of his arms around her lower back, closing the space between them, "Yeah, a little birdy told me about your Journey obsession."
"Oh really? Would this birdy happen to have a goatee?"
Clint shrugged and acted dumb. "I don't know," but Pepper could she was right by the way he looked away from her. He was a terrible liar, when it came to her at least.
Clint's eyes were very expressive, Pepper noted. Clinton Francis Barton was a phenomenon in himself. His hands were rough yet soft at the same time. He had a hard time expressing his feelings, and yet he was extremely easy to read. His words were often quite sharp, but when you actually stepped back and analyzed them, they were usually just his 'last defense'. Clint wasn't used to letting people in… It was kind of depressing to think about. Clint was a big boy, though- he could definitely take care of himself, but in many ways he was still just a little boy. And Pepper was torn between loving the man and crooning over the little boy.
And then she wondered when she had laid her head against his shoulder. Not that she was complaining. His broad shoulders were beautifully sculpted- and the tux was obviously custom made. It showcased his gorgeous build marvelously.
She'd have to remember to thank Jan.
She found herself once again realizing how uncomfortable was in the tux. She eyed the buttons on his shirt, but decided it would pretty much ruin this cute moment they had going here to unbutton his shirt. But she noted that his collar was rather tight, and he'd probably relax better if the top button was undone.
So she snaked her hand to the top of his shirt and unbuttoned it quickly. She could feel the vibrations as Clint laughed. She looked up at him. "What?"
"Nothing. You. You're funny," he said. She noted that he was already more relaxed.
Right about the time she registered that he no longer had visual on his feet was the time that she felt a flare of pain shoot through her foot.
"Ouch!" and they separated automatically.
"Are you okay? I stepped on your foot- I'm so sorry!" he said quickly.
"Nah, nah, I'm fine. Just- one second," she was on one foot, putting pressure on where it hurt.
When the pain stopped, they smiled sheepishly at each other and awkwardly came back together, leaving a space between them again.
She tried to get closer again, but he refused. "I don't want to step on you again."
She rolled her eyes, "Why don't you just take your shoes off?"
He cracked a small, shy smile and toed the shoes off and kicked them to the side.
She stopped in close again and wrapped her arms around his neck. They were nearly nose to nose, and Pepper was admiring the view appreciatively.
He wrapped his arms securely around her waist and tilted his head to the side to move in for a kiss. She took it in stride and suddenly they weren't dancing anymore.
It felt like a scene from a romantic movie. The table set for two, the barefoot couple kissing passionately on the balcony overlooking the city that never slept as they music played.
"Some people wanna fill the wooorld with silly love songs," and Clint broke the kiss, smiling and chuckling softly to himself.
"What?" Pepper asked, wondering what she'd done to make him laugh.
"I always thought this was a stupid song," he admitted with a shake of his head. "Now I get it."
Pepper felt her heart ache with a flood of… emotions? Definitely questions. There were so many things going through her head, she didn't know how to decipher her own thoughts.
He kissed the top of her head. "Love you, Pep."
She was speechless. Was she really ready to say it back? Clint was sweet, and a lot better than the other men she'd been with, but he was still a stubborn little bastard at times. She didn't know if she was ready for the commitment, yet. And yet, what would he think if she didn't say it back? Oh, good god…
"Ready to go inside? It's start to get a bit chilly…" he said, bluntly changing the subject, breaking away to blow out the candles. She was frozen to the spot, still trying to compute and completely lost as to what to do now. He looked at her questioningly before shrugging and turning to go inside.
And before she knew it, "I love you, too," was spilling out of her mouth. She had no control of it whatsoever.
Clint froze and turned back to her slowly, a small smile playing at his mouth. He seemed relieved. He was looking contemplatively at the ground under the table, and then his eyes jerked to hers and he nodded inside gently.
"Come on, you look cold. I'll make some hot chocolate and start the fire."
She smiled. That was surprisingly- pleasantly- anticlimactic. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, although she hadn't even registered she'd had any burdens besides work. Learning something new every day, she guessed.
She followed Clint own the steps, and he motioned for her to sit on the couch and wait for him, and he went to fetch some wood for the fire.
Soon, said fire was roaring and Clint was satisfied enough to go start the hot chocolate.
"Make sure you don't microwave it. Use the kettle to boil the water!" Pepper called into the kitchen.
"I know, I know," Clint reassured her fondly. He knew her thoughts on microwaves.
Several minutes later, Clint was carefully maneuvering his way to the couch, cautiously passing her the mug. Several marshmallows floated on the surface of the chocolaty beverage and she smiled affectionately.
He sat beside her, and they both stared into the fire silently.
Once she had emptied enough of her cocoa to be sure not to spill at the slightest movement, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He responded by draping his arm over her dainty shoulders.
He cheek rubbed momentarily against the rough fabric of his suit jacket.
"Take your jacket off," she whined, pulling at the sleeve. He chuckled softly and pulled away just enough to yank the jacket off and throw it haphazardly over the back of the couch.
"That better?" he asked, replacing his arm around her.
"Much." He took their empty mugs and set them on the coffee table in front of them and curled up on the couch, getting cuddlier with his girl.
She, too, rested her legs on the couch, and somewhere along the line he laid down and she followed. She was on top. He pressed slow, lazy kisses to her jaw line, and he could just make out her light little giggles. They brought a smile to his face faster than he'd be comfortable with if it were anyone else.
This girl- she did things to him that he didn't even want to try to understand. Usually, with the business type like her, he'd clear as much space between himself and them as possible. Business types- Maria Hill- and that sent a shiver through him, which he quickly covered up.
And now they were just laying there, Clint with his arms around Pepper holding her close, and Pepper letting herself relax, head resting on his chest. She could hear his heart. Buh-boomp. Buh-boomp. Buh-boomp.
They stared into the fire.