A/N: Hey guys. Once again I find myself apologising for the ridiculous amount of time that's past since I last updated. I've been incredibly busy with Uni work, which for now has eased off, meaning I can get back to my writing.
I'm not sure how I feel about this story any more though. When I read through what I've written I just don't feel like it's some of my best writing. I have lots of other chapters planned, but if I think that they aren't going to be written well then I find myself losing some of the motivation to write them. I want to be honest with you, so you know where I stand one this story. I may decide to put it on a hiatus for a while. I am however, definitely continuing my other chaptered stories, so don't worry about those.
Chapter Two
Natasha Romanov. The name had been gliding round Clint's head for the last twenty four hours. Gliding because it was so lyrical. Made even more so by the fact that its owner was a gymnast. She seemed to be using less than a quarter of her talent in the training gym. Giving nothing away. He wondered how graceful she'd truly by once she took the stage.
He was snapped unwillingly out of his reverie by Tony strolling through his door. It took most of Clint's skill not to instinctively loose an arrow from the bow he was cleaning.
"Woah relax." Tony said holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Just me."
"How'd you get in?" Clint grumbled. "The door was locked." He slowly lowered his weapon.
"I 'borrowed' your pass key earlier in case I needed to make a surprise entrance."
"Yeah and I took that back without you noticing."
"Surprise." He tossed the pass onto the bed where Clint was sitting and headed straight for the window. "I thought you might not let me in otherwise. You get so serious before the opening ceremony."
"You're mistaking seriousness for focus." Clint replied.
"A mere technicality really. You should come and look at this. Steve is being boring and catching up on sleep, but I thought you would appreciate this."
Though he wouldn't openly admit it to the other man, Clint was mildly intrigued and moved toward the window.
"The British have arrived."
The boxer seemed to say this with a slight thrill, and the archer could see why. Most of the other athletes in the square below had ceased what they were doing to watch the once hundred strong group of British men and women walk through the park.
Tony had been right about them making an entrance. Their white outfits were dazzling in the afternoon sun, and the red and blue stood out boldly for all to see. This was less than half their team, and they still managed to effortlessly look imposing.
Clint recognised quite a few faces and pointed them out before Tony motioned to two figures in amongst the centre of the crowd.
"I've heard about him." The boxer said tapping the window where a tall, blonde man was walking, laughing heartily with others around him.
"The British hammer thrower. The youngest Brit ever to win a World Championship. Won the European in the next year apparently. This is his first Olympics and he's been asked to carry the flag."
"He looks like a Greek God." Clint murmured with a sarcastic smirk.
"More like Norse really. Especially with the name Thor." Tony snickered. "Did his parents not know about the concept of high school bullies? I'd forgotten the Brits have that secret eccentric streak far beneath all the layers of grumpiness."
Clint didn't bother to mention Tony's own eccentric traits.
"I recognise him too." The boxer added thoughtfully. He was pointing to a slighter, dark-haired man walking near to Thor, but on the outside of the group. "That's his brother, Loki."
"I would be interested to hear the story of those baby names."
"Perhaps they were drunk when they thought them up." Tony laughed darkly.
"What sport does Loki compete in?" Clint asked, eyes never leaving the group.
"Um, show jumping, I think. All the dressage stuff. I'm pretty sure he's the younger brother." The older man mused.
He may have misjudged, because they were quite high up, but from Clint's perspective Loki didn't look as happy or excited as any of his teammates. He didn't get long to reflect on this though, because Tony checked the time and announced that they should both be going to get ready for the opening ceremony.
It wasn't often, though, that Clint's eyes were wrong.
~A~
Dusk had long since faded and the London ceremony was in full swing. In the dark, cool Capital air sound and nervous excitement seemed to carry faster and further.
"Is this not the grandest opening night you have ever witnessed Loki?" Thor asked, with a grin, from their position waiting to enter the stadium.
He stood at the head of the British crowd, flag rippling tentatively as he watched the screen relaying what was happening inside.
"It is indeed, but you are thoroughly biased." Loki, who was standing just to his brother's left, replied.
"This is our home games. We are entitled to be biased!" Thor boomed. When Loki did not acknowledge this he added: "You do not seem all that happy brother."
"Just because I am quiet, does not mean I am not content. I'm just less openly brazen about it than you." The younger man retorted with a smirk.
Thor looked hurt for an instant, then smiled as Loki started to chuckle.
"Who'd have guessed they'd use a fifty foot Voldemort."
Thor laughed with him. "Certainly not I. Though it is impressive."
They continued to watch in companionable silence as the tension mounted and their time to enter the stadium drew closer.
~A~
Clint could find nothing suitable to describe the feeling of walking into a stadium and being met with a wall of noise. There was clearly more support USA here, because even Beijing hadn't been this loud. Having thousands of people cheer for your team gave a sense of patriotic pride that Clint imagined only an Olympian would understand.
He watched Steve wave the flag, the other man's face telling Clint that they had definitely chosen the right person.
The team circled the stadium and the settled, as much as possible considering the heightened atmosphere, into their position.
In between watching the spectacle and discussing other teams, Clint kept a look out for Natasha Romanov. Russia had had entered a while before the USA, and he knew their team were wearing red and white.
The archer thought he'd spied her vivid hair when the team had been on the tv screen and the USA had been waiting, but the coverage switched cameras and his sighting had been lost.
The alphabetical order began to near the team the home crowd were waiting for, when, suddenly, he saw her through gaps in different groups of people. He couldn't really explain why she stood out for him. Not even to himself. But there she was; a rosy beacon.
She was two sections away, looking stunning in the long, sparkling red dress that all the female Russian athletes were wearing. Clint privately thought that it looked much better on her than anyone else. Then it quickly dawned on him that the dress was the same one from his dream, but a shade of deep red instead of pale blue. It collided beautifully with her hair. How could anyone else match that?
Something seemed amiss to Clint though. She held a serene expression on her face, but tension was betrayed by her eyebrows running into a frown.
Clint nonchalantly dropped this into conversation and was told by Maria that there was some tension in the Russian gymnastics team. She didn't know why, only that there were whispers of Natasha having turned down carrying the flag.
Their conversation was stopped from progressing further by the increasing buzz that drew to a crescendo around the stadium before dropping to a quiet hush. They had reached the final team. The British were coming.
As the muscular figure of Thor emerged from the dark tunnel with the flag, the stadium came alive with noise and ablaze with flashing lights. A roar rose up through the stands as he was quickly followed by the long procession of the British team.
"They're definitely the ones to watch this year." Tony asserted loudly from somewhere on his right.
Clint couldn't help think that, cheered on by the home crowd, they did look worryingly impressive. Perhaps Tony was right.
~A~
After the Brits took their place several speeches followed. The games were declared officially open. Then it was time to light the torch. An awed hum began to spread like a wave as people spotted the flame coming down the tunnel. It changed hands a few times before reaching its final destination. An explosion of sound ensued as the cauldron was lit, and rose up into its vertical form. The thirtieth Olympiad had begun.