Walkie Talkie
"Nat?" Clint whispered into his brand new walkie talkie. They decided after two months of talking through the fence, they needed another form of communication. Yes, it was a crude way to communicate, but they could talk at night now.
"Hawkeye?" Natasha giggled from the other side. Since he always seemed to be aware of everything, or at least most of everything, she coined the nickname.
"Black Widow." Her nickname came from her secret punch. She looked nice and sweet on the outside, but inside she was a fighting machine. The martial arts lessons at boarding school had paid off. She was very agile and skilled. "We have a problem. I didn't tell you earlier, though. I didn't want to freak you out."
"What?" Natasha sounded worried.
"My dad found out about our little rendezvous a while back. I told him I met with Anastasia."
"Who's Anastasia?" Natasha demanded, forgetting about the fact that his father was wary of their meeting. It really was strange they hadn't noticed before. They were too busy focusing on their own problems. They really should be more observant.
"Romanov." Clint laughed, "I don't know any other Anastasias."
Natasha laughed at this. She laughed with Clint often. "Oh," she smiled even though he couldn't see it, "Glad to know I don't have any competition."
Clint smiled before her words sunk in, "Competition for what?"
Natasha paused. The words slipped out. She hadn't thought when she said them. "Uh," THINK, "for your friendship. I wouldn't want you to have any other best friends."
Clint sighed, "You know I do far better alone or with you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way. Is that why you avoided meeting up with me?" she inquired hopefully, remembering his father and the important issue that came with his suspicions.
"Yes," Clint assured, "there's no other reason I wouldn't want to hang out with you."
She looked out her window to see his little window bright with yellow light. The light flickered off. He was tired. "Clint, I'm sorry, but I'm tired."
"Really?" he yawned.
"Yeah, I'm really sorry."
"No problem. Sleep. Good night, Tasha." He grinned to himself. She knew he was tired. She didn't get tired until midnight.
Natasha really cares for Clint! Uh, my plan is working. Obviously. I am an intelligent creature, unlike these humans. Humans are puppets and I the ventriloquist. This plan is only twelve years in the making. It will not fail. All they need is a push; a push that will lay their feelings flat on the table for all to see. It must be done. It must be done soon.
So, I'm obsessed with them, just a little. Or a lot. Well, who cares. I'm happy :) I hope you liked the chapter. Stuff is approaching! Thank you to everyone for reading this! Also, thanks to those who put this story on their favorite/story alert list! When I get the emails, I squeal.
Also, on another note, has anyone heard of Brian Regan? He is the funniest man in the world, in my opinion. He had a comedy sketch called Walkie Talkie. It came to mind when I was writing this. I highly suggest looking it up on Youtube. I laugh hysterically every time I hear it. You might not, but it's worth a shot :) I don't know if you can put links on fanfictions, so if you want to find a link, it'll be on my profile.