And They Danced

8 in the morning, Peter was on his way down to the bottom of the tower with Bo when his advanced hearing picked up strange music he had never heard before. It seemed to be coming from Natasha's rarely used dance studio.

"Friday, take me up to the dance studio, please," he said.

"Right away, Mr Parker," The AI responded, and the elevator gave a jerk as it suddenly changed direction and moved back up the shaft two floors. The door opened and Peter stepped out.

"Stay, Bo," he ordered his dog, and he walked further into the studio. He'd never been on this floor before. There was a small hallway leading towards the studio itself, and on either side of him were doors that lead to changing and locker rooms. Peter trotted up to the nearly soundproof big glass room, standing at the door. A boombox against the far wall, the CD inside playing unfamiliar music. The floor was covered with black mats, similar to the ones Midtown Tech occasionally pulled out for P.E., only bigger.

Natasha was inside, spinning and dancing, clad in a simple black leotard and red sash around her waist, with bloodred pointe shoes to match. Even more surprising to Peter was Clint. Peter had known Natasha danced, but not Clint, of all people. Clint was spinning around Natasha, perfoming the same moves as she. He was shirtless, his lower half covered by knee-length black leggings. He, too, was wearing bloodred pointe shoes that matched Natasha's.

Peter was mesmerized as he watched the pair spin around each other, twirling and pirouetting and holding each other as they danced. Natasha's face was graced with a a determined smile, and Clint's expression showed he was trying his hardest not to step on his partner's toes when they came close. As the music came to a close, Clint swept Natasha up off her feet and into his arms, giving one final spin before setting her down. The pair was breathless, chests heaving, cheeks red.

Peter stared in awe as their dance came to a stop and Natasha turned to him, eyes wide. She came to the door and opened it.

"What are you doing here?" she asked stiffly, still slightly out of breath from her complicated routine.

"I heard the music and wondered what was going on," Peter said with a shrug. "You should dance more often! That was amazing!" He offered the pair a smile, which quickly faded as Natasha's brow furrowed and, to Peter, it appeared she might cry. She slipped around her surrogate nephew and into her locker room, closing the door behind her.

"Aunt Nat, wait!" Peter called after her, raising a hand.

"Don't, kid. Leave her be. She'll come around when she's ready," Clint said from behind him, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"What did I do?" Peter asked innocently, wondering why in the world Natasha had stormed out.

"Nothing you meant to, bud. You don't know much of 'Tasha's past, but she was trained in this horrible place called The Red Room."

Peter nodded, he knew that much.

"They used to make the girls there dance until their feet bled, and then some. They were trained to kill, forced, actually, among other horrible things. At night, they were chained to their beds. 'Tasha doesn't sleep most nights. Her nightmares are that bad. Dancing, well, dancing helps. I'm not sure how, because it was such a traumatizing part of her childhood, but somehow it helps. When her dreams are especially bad, she comes and gets me, and we dance," Clint explained, hand never leaving Peter's shoulder. Peter nodded, eyes sad. "We've been dancing all night, kid."

Peter's eyes grew wide, and as he studied Clint further, he realized that under the sweat-slicked forehead and red cheeks, the tousled hair, dark circles, and exhausted frown that were telltale signs of a sleepless night.

"So when you're asleep, we usually dance. That's why you've never seen us do it before."

Peter nodded. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't be, buddy, you have nothing to be sorry for," Clint replied, tousling his hair with a big hand. Peter gave a solemn nod.

"I didn't know you could dance, Uncle Clint," Peter said finally.

"I learned, for 'Tasha. She taught me almost all I know about ballet."

"Would she teach me? Maybe I can dance with her, and you could get some sleep?" Peter asked, hopeful.

"I don't know, kid, you would have to ask her," Clint replied. Although the sound of extra sleep did sound enticing, he wasn't sure if he was ready to share his traumatized friend with his surrogate nephew. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to get a shower in."

"Okay," Peter replied. "I'm going to take Bo for a walk."

"You wait 15 minutes, I'll go with you," Clint said as he ducked into his locker room.

"You're on," Peter said. "Come on, Bo. Bo? Oops, I must've left him in the elevator. Friday, do you know where Bo is?"

"Yes, Peter, Bo is with the Boss and they are coming up the elevator now."

"Okay, thanks, Fri."

The elevator opened to an annoyed Tony and a smiling, wagging Bo. Tony's white dress shirt had several dirty paw prints all over it.

"Uh, hi, Dad."

Tony wordlessly marched forward and shoved Bo's leash into Peter's hand.

"Can I ask what happened?" Peter asked, tapping Bo on the rear to get him to sit.

"I had a very important client your mother and I were taking up to the office, when the elevator opens and your dog runs out, jumps on him, licks his face, jumps on me, and pulls my pants down! Needless to say I lost that client."

Peter held back his laughter. He'd have to ask Friday for that footage later. "Um, sorry, Dad, it won't happen again."

"It had better not, otherwise I'll tan your hide," Tony threatened as he tried to dust the dirt off his clothes. Peter flushed as red as Aunt Nat's hair. "And give that darn dog a bath!"

"Yes sir," Peter replied meekly.

"What were you doing up here anyway? Dance is not your typical sport, is it?"

"I was talking to Uncle Clint. We're going to take Bo and Lucky for a walk in a little bit."

"Okay, that's fine. But make that dog behave! I don't want to see him jumping on anybody."

"Got it."

...

Clint and Peter enjoyed their walk in Central Park. Natasha had even tagged along, cradling Masha in her arms. The cat loved to be held, and wouldn't leave Natasha's arms unless she put her down.

"Aunt Nat?" Peter asked after he and Clint had let Bo and Lucky off the leashes to play with the other dogs.

"Yes, detka?" Natasha asked, fingers gently scratching Masha under her chin. Peter smiled at the name. Lately she had been shortening paukdetka to just detka, baby.

"Will you teach me to dance?" Peter asked. "I would dance with you."

"We'll see, detka, we'll see."

...

6 months later, 2:49 am.

Peter was awoken by someone shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to a wide-eyed redhead standing at the edge of his bed. He gave a silent nod, quickly changed pajama pants for black leggings, and grabbed his pointe shoes. He followed Natasha down to the dance studio.

And they danced.

...

4/13/20