far, adj.

definition: situated at a great distance in space or time

rating: T

A/N: Oh My Gosh Did You Guys See The Trailer Teaser. Natasha and Clint my children were so freakin hot like I was taking a drink when I saw it and I 100% literally genuinely almost spit out my water when Natasha came smirking onscreen. The trailer is out tomorrow and I'm simultaneously so ready and so not ready. WE'RE GETTING THE CLINTASHA FIGHT SCENE and I think there will be tears coming out of my face. Enjoy the fic and fav/review if you liked! *thumbs up* T rating is for language.

"You've reached Natasha Romanoff, leave a message."

Hey, Nat, how's Malibu? Puente Antiguo sucks. It's so hot here, like you can't even imagine. Well, I guess you kind of can, since you're in California. But chilling in Tony Stark's ridiculous mansion, I mean, you don't know how good you've got it. The 084 is stuck in a sort of crater-looking thing, just out in the middle of Nowhereville, New Mexico, and get this: The rumors are true. It's genuinely impossible to lift. We had to build a specialized lab around it so the scientists could study it without getting heatstroke. It's crazy.

Anyway, sorry I missed you. You're probably at some fancy rich party, drinking champagne. Uggh, what I wouldn't give for a chilled drink. Actually, forget that; all I really want right now is friggin' air conditioning. And to see you, of course.

Catch you later, partner.

###

"Clint Barton. Leave your name and number and I'll call back as soon as I can."

Barton, it's Romanoff. Sorry I missed your call. I have a different phone number as Natalie Rushman, so I didn't get your message until I got back to my hotel. It was actually good to hear something other than a billionaire egomaniac talk about himself all day. Cause you make Malibu out to be some type of relaxation vacation, but Tony Stark is hard to babysit and a royal pain in the ass most of the time. I have to follow him around to all his press conferences and everything. Tomorrow, we have some charity event to go to at a racetrack that's a big deal, and I have to make sure he doesn't talk to the wrong people and gets his food served right. Honestly, I'd rather be in Puente Antiguo. Nowhereville sounds nice. I'm going to bed, goodnight, Barton.

###

"You've reached Natasha Romanoff, leave a message."

Damn it, Nat, I lost the number you texted me to call you with and I'm not sure how. It's the heat, I'm blaming the heat. Probably fried my phone circuits or something.

Anyways, I'm so done with New Mexico. It's hot and sticky and there's all these gross bugs and snakes. Oh, and the motel I'm staying at sucks big-time. The air conditioning has been out for three days, and I think there are bed bugs in the sheets. It's nasty. And the heat is messing with everybody's heads, Coulson feels all super spy in the desert and he never takes his suit jacket off and uses acronyms all the time. It's weird.

I hope you ate some cake for me at that charity event last night. Next time you call, you can tell me how it went, just make sure you don't call me in the middle of the night like last time or I'll be asleep. Why were you up that late anyways? Malibu is only an hour ahead of Puente Antiguo, so you were up at one a.m. Seriously, don't overwork yourself, Tasha. Take care.

###

"You've reached Natasha Romanoff, leave a message."

Dang, we are playing some Olympic-level phone tag. I saw you tried to call again. And I also saw what happened at your charity event on the news this morning, everyone's talking about that Whiplash shmuck, are you okay? I didn't see you on the news which is good, I guess. Send me a text or something after you listen to this though, so I know you're ok. Talk to you soon.

Oh—one more thing: We acquired a ton of intel on the 084, which is good—well, the scientist Coulson confiscated it from wasn't very happy, but it's good for us. Maybe we can finally figure out how to move this thing and kiss Nowhereville goodbye. Text me.

###

"Clint Barton. Leave your name and number and I'll call back as soon as I can."

You're wrong, Barton, as per usual. I was in the news. Jarvis – um, that's Stark's AI – Jarvis found a news article of what Pepper Potts and I wore to the event. The journalist said I wore Liz Claiborne "well", so, um, yeah. There's that.

Did I tell you about my first day undercover? I took out Stark's bodyguard to prove a point. Well actually, I didn't take him out, exactly, but he was tapping out of a thigh choke when I was done with him. I was just thinking about it recently, and I thought you'd find it funny. I don't know why I told you over voicemail, I was just rambling I guess. Sorry.

Pepper needs me; gotta run, bye.

###

"You've reached Natasha Romanoff, leave a message."

Natashaaaa Romanoffff… I'm starting to think you're intentionally avoiding me, this is ridiculous. [chuckle] I've got a lot to tell you, though, so I might as well do it now. Oh, I found the dress article you were talking about. I don't know any designers but the dress you were wearing looked great. You know, can you imagine what people would think if you wore a miniskirt to a nice place like that? Like something you would wear clubbing. [chuckle] Actually, you know what, I dare you, Natasha Romanoff, to wear a minidress to the next fancy shindig you go to. Ooh, and it has to be animal print. Do it. I double-dog dare you. The critics'll go wild.

But guess what? Something finally happened in Nowhereville. Crazy, right? Some ripped surfer dude-lookin' guy broke into the facility and tried to take the 084. Coulson got really peeved because this dude took out all his agents. He said they looked like underqualified mall cops, and actually, they did. I saw it go down, it was pretty… wow. It was like watching a superhero movie or something. We got him in custody, though. It was weird—the guy looked like he honestly expected that thing to budge. Of course it didn't, but still. Can't blame someone for trying.

Okay, I gotta go help clean up the mess this guy made. Talk to you soon.

Oh—one more thing: It rained tonight and I feel like a new man. Goodnight, Tasha.

###

"Clint Barton. Leave your name and number and I'll call you back as soon as I can."

[pause] …Clint? I need to talk to you… I texted you my Natalie Rushman number again. Don't lose it, and, um, call me. Soon. Um, okay bye.

###

[loud background noise] "Hello, Natalie speaking."

"Nat, hi, I got your message and listened to it like five times before I called. Is everything good? Are you okay? You called me Clint and you never do that. Say yes if you're being held hostage."

"Calm down, Barton, I'm fine. I'm at Stark's birthday party now, so… I hate to say this, but it's not a good time." [breaking glass] [loud laughter] [beat dropping]

"Oh. Good. Well actually, stuff happened, and the mission's over, I'll tell you about it later. I'm going home really soon, so I'll have some time on the way back to talk, is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine. But your phone gets terrible service on flights."

"Ehh, it'll be okay."

"So… I have to go. This party is getting out of hand."

"Okay. Hey—are you wearing the dress?"

"I can hear you smiling, Barton, and I would only wear that dress in your wildest dreams."

"Oh, so you're rocking an animal printed miniskirt in my wildest dreams, now?"

"Bye, Barton."

[end call]

###

"Clint Barton. Leave your name and number and I'll call you back as soon as I can."

Looks like we're back to playing phone tag. [nervous laugh] Barton, I told you this wouldn't work while you're on a plane. I told you, but you never listen, do you? [nervous laugh] [sigh]

Actually, it would be better if you listened to what I want to say over voicemail. Easier for me, anyway.

Stark… um, Stark asked me on the night of his party if—if I knew I only had one birthday left, and I could spend it however I wanted, what I would do. And I told him I would do whatever I wanted, which whoever I wanted to do it with. But the question just stuck with me, and… well, I realized I didn't care what I did as long as I did it with you. Clint… I really mean that. Really really. You probably think I'm making it up, but I'm not. I've had this feeling for a long, long time, it just took me a while to realize it.

[sigh] Um… okay… I said it. Just think about it, I guess… I'll see you tomorrow, I'm done in Malibu. 'Night.

###

"Natalie speaking."

"Hey, Nat."

"Clint."

"Yeah. I got your message, and I have a two-word response: Hell. Yes."

"Wh-what?"

"Natasha Romanoff, I have been flirting with you for at least two years now, but I thought you'd never feel the same way about me that I felt about you."

"That was flirting?"

"Wow. Yeah. So my flirting skills could use some improvement."

"I think I can help with that."

"… Nat, you are so hot."

[chuckle] "Well, I want to stay and talk, but I can't. My phone battery is almost dead and I'm not going to use Natalie's phone anymore. And I need sleep."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah… goodnight, Clint."

"Wait, one more thing. You totally wore that minidress to Stark's party, didn't you? Don't lie to me, Nat, don't even try because you know you can't get away with it."

"Clint, you suck. Screw you. I wore it."

"I knew it!"

[end call]