the_wordbutler requested some Clint and Natasha BFF time.
Natasha looked all around to do yet another head count of the team. Tony and Thor flanked either side of the Quinjet, pacing the craft on its return trip to New York from Cairo. Bruce was snoring softly on the bench behind the cockpit, and Steve and Phil were in the back, getting a start on paperwork. She and Clint, as well as Phil, had spent the entire fight inside the Quinjet, offering aerial assistance only since the bad guy this time—some enchanted, giant piece of humanoid-shaped rock—required only the heavy hitters to be on the ground for safety's sake.
She double-checked the controls in front of her to make sure whatever she spoke into her headset would be going into Clint's ears only. "I need to ask you a favor."
He looked over at her briefly before refocusing his attention on his side of the console. Since he hadn't gotten as much action as was normal in a fight, Clint refused to put the Quinjet on autopilot. "You're not going to ask me to kill someone for you. Because, I mean, for you I would, but…"
"Since when have I ever needed someone to do my killing for me?"
"Touché. What do you need?"
"A babysitter."
"Is this going to be another time of the 'we don't want to fight in front of the kid, so take her for a little bit' thing? And is that going to be a routine?"
"No, and maybe," she answered.
"So why do you need me to watch her?"
She fiddled with the controls in front of her for a moment and double-checked over her shoulder to make sure Bruce was still asleep and that Steve and Phil hadn't reemerged into the main cabin. "We've never had time to ourselves where it's been just the two of us," she replied. "At first it was only a working relationship, then it was him looking out for me because I was pregnant, and then we were married, and now we have a kid. There's a whole, big middle of a normal relationship that we skipped over somewhere."
"I can understand that," he told her quietly. "Guess it's easier when there's not a kid involved."
"Please, you two practically dated for years. Just without the sex."
"Which is an honest-to-God shame."
Natasha rolled her eyes. "Can you do this or not?"
"Of course I can. It will give Phil an excuse to finally take some time off and be lazy for a few days. Because apparently me just asking him to do it isn't a good enough reason."
"I can't imagine why the thought of you never changing out of your pajamas and probably only showering once for the better part of a week isn't enticing to him."
"Please," Clint scoffed. "We've been held prisoner how many times? He knows how bad I can smell."
"Sexy."
"Depends on what you're into," Clint countered with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"Gross," Natasha muttered.
"So when are we taking Nadia?"
"In a couple weeks—that way we have time to arrange vacation time and everything. First week of December sound alright? Just for three or four days."
"Sure."
Nat worried her bottom lip a moment before expanding on her need to do this. "It's been three months and he still looks at me like I'm going to break at any second."
"To be fair, you did scare the shit out all of us."
She pursed her lips; she knew she got off easier than the men for the four days where she was fighting for her life. At least she had something to do, a goal to achieve; the rest of them had to sit around and wait. Thankfully, patience was not a requirement in the superhero business.
"I just think," she continued, "if I get him alone and away from Nadia for a bit, so he can see me as me and not her mother or something, that it will be easier for him to understand that I'm not sick anymore."
"Just give him time."
"I'm tired of giving him time. I need—" She paused to sigh. "I just—"
"You want to get laid." He laughed when Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him. "Please, I know that face. You've come to me before with that face. You have an itch that needs scratching." He paused to adjust their altitude slightly to compensate for some atmospheric conditions. "Weren't you two having sex before she was born? Or did he just answer the door naked that one morning to screw with me?"
"We were, and we've started up again—which took a whole other round of convincing him that I'd be fine—but it's…"
"Gentle and sweet and you'd rather run the risk of breaking something instead?"
She nodded. "I had my field status revoked, then the decreased work schedule, then bedrest, followed by not being able to stay awake for more than five minutes. Knowing how bad I felt and knowing how good I feel now, I don't want to waste my time any more. I mean look at me right now—first big fight since I got back, and I spent the entire time strapped in the co-pilot's chair."
"You don't have to convince me that you should have a sexfest, I already said I'd watch the kid. But," he added, "just know that it's not easy for those of us on the other side of the fence. Watching someone you… someone you care about a whole lot almost slip through your fingers messes you up inside. Don't get too mad at him."
She nodded. "But it's not just the sex thing—we've never had an actual date," she admitted quietly. "He deserves some bit of normalcy, and he isn't likely to get it all that often since he married me."
"That's still weird, by the way."
"Tell me about it," she muttered. "I have a husband and kid. What the hell happened to me? I spend most mornings trying to figure out when exactly I slipped into a parallel universe."
