Author's Note:
Hello, all. It's been just over three weeks, and apologise to those who were waiting, but, tbh, it's not THAT late. So somebody asking if I'd abandoned the story was a little 'What?'.
Anyway, there is a lot of things happening at once right now in my life, a long list, so, unfortunately, I am not able to write as much as I used to. In fact, that time has halved and will potentially get shorter. Therefore, this story only has one or possibly two chapters after this one with a proper ending.
I have loved writing this story, which is why I've actively put time and planning into giving it an ending which you'd all hopefully like (After Violet said I wasn't allowed to make it super depressing and angsty).
Thank you very much for all of the reviews! It means the world to me.
Natasha's movements were extremely calculated, controlled and slow as she landed the quinjet in the designated spot. This was going to be the actual first time she was going to physically see the farm - she had heard about it on several occasions. In fact, she could visualise what she presumed it looked like from the detailed descriptions she had gotten over the last year. However, she couldn't just not turn up; she gave her word.
This would have been a lot easier, however she was pulled into a crucial meeting - one that she probably should have paid more attention to.
She had successfully gotten tomorrow off, and as tomorrow was Friday, it meant she had the whole weekend. So, even though she didn't going to be travelling down with him as planned, she was only be getting there a few hours after him.
A weekend in the house where Clint lived with his deceased wife for years, conceived two children and, if her memory was correct, where Lila was actually born. There were a lot of memories and none of them really involved her - that freaked her out. She could never live up to Laura as a wife, parent, or general human being.
Oh, why did Clint have to move back to this place? She knew he did it for the children, but surely they were too young to know how to make big decisions? Then again, what would she know about children and decisions?
As she walked to the exact coordinates, she wondered whose idea it was to live in the middle of nowhere with pretty much no contact with the outside world. She presumed it must have been primarily Laura, as the second she was 'out of the picture' he moved with the children and put them straight into public school. If it had been his idea, surely he would have remained at the farm. She did not know enough about his background - then again, she only found out he was married with two children a year ago, after his wife had died of cancer.
She froze when she came in direct view of the farm; it wasn't anything like she'd imagined it. In fact, seeing it for real was… well, weird. No point staring at it, though, she told herself before forcing herself to take the first step of many to get to the house.
As she walked up the stairs onto the porch, she decided to knock - just in case. It was also the polite thing to do.
Clint opened the door ten seconds later, looking extremely happy to see her. "Hey! I was wondering when you'd get here. Come on in."
Natasha stepped into the house, her eyes instinctively scanning every inch of the space, working out her exits and examining it for dangers - she was also judging everything. It looked a lot cleaner than she thought it would be. "Hey," she greeted, almost absentmindedly. "How does it feel to be back here?"
He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Mixed feelings on it, honestly. But overall it's nice to be back." He replied, leading her down the hall and into a spacious kitchen. "Want a drink?"
"Whiskey? Vodka?" Natasha listed, looking at him, hoping that he meant one of those sorts of drinks.
He chuckled and reached up into a cabinet well above the fridge. "Ah, yes, the more popular adult drinks are up here." He grabbed a bottle of vodka from the cabinet and two glasses. He poured a fair amount of the drink into each glass and passed one to her before taking a swig of his own.
Natasha forced herself to not down the whole drink in one, and just gulped down half of it. "What are we doing tonight?"
Clint shrugged again, a lopsided smile on his face. "Well, the nanny doesn't arrive until tomorrow, so we've got the whole place to ourselves…"
"So… tidying? Sorting out? Reorganising?" Natasha listed. To be honest, she didn't want to interact with Clint on an intimate level in this house; it was too weird and she was hoping it just didn't come up.
He furrowed his brows but thankfully took the hint. "Um… okay. Yeah, actually, I could definitely use your help with unpacking and keeping things orderly."
Natasha nodded, downed the rest of her drink and looked around for the boxes. "Great! Best get started, then!"
Six hours later, Clint was sweating over the keys of the old piano in the main room as he carefully disinfected and polished each one. Somewhere along the line Natasha had taken total control over the cleaning efforts, and whenever Clint tried shifting their activities from cleaning to something more intimate, she would hurriedly assign him some new chore to do while quickly going off to do her own. He was, understandably, confused by the behaviour, but was hesitant to call her out on it. He was tremendously relieved when he had finished polishing the last key. "Okay, the piano is in better condition than ever… why don't we take a break?" He suggested to Natasha, who was literally on top of the fridge as she sorted through the cabinets closer to the ceiling.
"I'm nearly finished - just on the last cabinet," she answered, not even turning to look at him. "How about you go and strip the kids' beds - we'll need to wash their sheets, and it will be nice for them to be the same ones they remember them in."
He sighed and trudged over to her. "What's wrong, Nat?" He asked tiredly, gently pulling on her leg as it hung right by his head.
"So much bacteria could have manifested in the time you were gone - that bedding needs to be washed. Yours, too," Natasha replied, moving her leg onto the fridge and away from him.
Clint raised an eyebrow at her and cursed his shortness. "No, seriously. What's wrong?" He urged.
Natasha threw her sponge into the sink without looking. Replaced a few empty tupperware into the cabinet and closed it. "Nothing," she answered, turning to face him this time before jumping down gracefully.
He backed up so she didn't land on him and leant against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "Natasha, you've been acting off all night. Tell me what's eating at you."
"I just like cleaning - not my fault the only thing on your mind is sex," Natasha answered pretty sharply.
Clint frowned at the barbs in her tone. "It was only a suggestion - you could have just said no outright."
"Fine. No. I don't want to have sex here," Natasha stated, grabbed a few cloths and some window cleaner and flash with bleach and headed to the bathroom.
He didn't follow her for a second as realisation hit him. She didn't want to have sex in the same house where he and his wife had once… Clint sighed and finally followed after her, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she scrubbed the toilet bowl. "I'm sorry I brought it up." He said sincerely. If amends weren't made now, the rest of the night would be hell.
"It's fine," Natasha muttered out pretty clearly, but didn't turn to look at him.
Well, her tone implied that there was still something to be resolved and/or appeased. "No, it's not fine. I should have known better and I put you in an uncomfortable situation. It's on me."
She shook her head. "It's not on you, stop being ridiculous."
Sighing, Clint shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, I feel like I needed to let you know that I'm sorry," he clarified.
"You don't have to apologise, Clint, I understand," Natasha muttered, dropping something into the basin of the toilet and flushing the chain.
He raised a brow slightly. "Alright, good." He said somewhat awkwardly, wondering what else he should say.
Natasha let out a heaving sigh and turned to face him. "Listen, I don't know when I'll be okay with actually being in this house; it's just got too much history and… gives me the creeps." She looked away from him slightly. "I know it's stupid, but this place weirds me out more than the Red Room."
He wasn't really sure how to reply to that at first; part of him was slightly offended, while the rest of him was concerned. Did that mean she wouldn't be visiting? "I'd think of it more like a happy history. Lots of children laughing in this house over the years - so now it's got a happy atmosphere." He offered lamely.
She actually raised her eyebrows slightly at that response, as if she couldn't believe that that was supposed to be comforting - though, there was the shimmer of confusion too. "Yes, your children will be thrilled to be back here," she replied carefully, her expression becoming more confused than anything else.
Clint sighed. "I meant that you don't need to be creeped out because of the history of this place - there are so many good memories, so much good history that to me this house has a joyful aura to it permanently." He explained, leaving out the part that the kitchen area was excluded from this description for a while, considering that was where he'd found Laura crouched in a pool of blood and vomit.
"That's not what I meant, Clint, and you know it," Natasha responded, her tone somehow more closed off than before.
He knew. "Yeah… Sorry. I'm just… I mean, does this mean you won't be coming around? Not to visit or anything?"
Natasha sighed with a semi-shrug. "I don't know, Clint. You know I always preferred being on the base, anyway," she replied, weakly and unsure.
"Yeah, but not even for a visit every once and awhile? For the more… serious stuff we could meet somewhere else, but since this is where the kids'll be spending most of their time, it would be best for you to just visit here to see them," Clint replied.
"I'm still gathering my thoughts on everything; I didn't know it would affect me like this," Natasha confessed. "I'm sure the place will grow on me, though."
Well, that was the best he could hope for. He nodded. "I'm sure it will."
"I'm going to get started on the attic - maybe you could sort out some food and we'll eat in a bit?" Natasha suggested, already picking up her cloth.
Clint shrugged, glad to change the subject to something more casual. "Sure. I think there're a few frozen pizzas in the freezer." And with that he wandered into the kitchen and set about his assigned task.
Natasha pushed the final box into the neat pile - she had decided to not get rid of anything in the attic, apart from some moldy sweets - as it was all memories. There were so many items which could have went back either side of the family - Laura's or Clint's - and it would nice for the children to go through it when they're older and discovering the history.
As she slipped over to look through one of the boxes again to organise it into the individual's clothing, she heard Clint call her down.
She looked at the place, making a mental note to vacuum up here at a later date before stepping out of the attic.
"You like green peppers on your pizza, right?" Clint reaffirmed as he watched her descend.
"I do," she confirmed as she stepped onto the ground. She offered him a smile, trying to relieve any tension she had caused before pulling the ladder up and then pushing it up to close the attic.
He smiled easily and nodded. "Good, because that's all I could find. Apparently, the housekeeper really likes green peppers."
Natasha let out a chuckle. "Must be my lucky day, then," she commented before side-stepping him and heading down the stairs.
The two of them began eating pizza in silence, with some music playing on the radio in the background. Eventually, they started to talk about idle things regarding work, which then turned into an in-depth conversation about work that grew. Their whole relationship began based entirely around work, so it was easy for them. It definitely helped Natasha to be a little bit more comfortable in her surroundings and they ended up sleeping in the living room. It didn't even seem like a compromise; he didn't ask or indicate at any time for them to go to another room, so when sleep took over them, it didn't matter.
Thank you for reading! I hope you all are having a great December!