Aftermath

Steve and Clint were back in the waiting area while the convenor looked over everyone's impression sheets so she could hand out phone numbers to the people who had both liked each other.
"So... what did you think of your first speed dating experience?" Clint asked genially.
"First and last, this was my first and last speed dating experience." Steve said flatly. "One time deal."
"Aww, c'mon, don't be such a wet blanket!' Clint teased. "At least you got out there and broadened your horizons! So not all the women were your type. There were some... nice ones... even you can't complain about that..."
"Let's see" Steve muttered, thinking back on the evening's entertainment. "I got felt up, twice; I insulted some poor Korean woman- she now thinks I'm the world's biggest racist; I got cried on for six minutes-"
"I got cried on, too!" Clint interjected.
"I got called a bourgeois pig by someone wearing glasses with no lenses in them, what is the point of wearing something like that?"
"Hipster." Clint chimed in sourly.
"I was put through a background screening even tougher than the Army's; I had my ear chewed off for six minutes by a professional complainer; I met someone even more shy and awkward than I am; I got asked by one gal if I just escaped from a Pennsylvania Dutch Amish community; and was treated with thinly veiled pity by another."
Clint cringed and shrugged.
"Oh! And let's not forget my run-in with our dear friend, Natasha Romanoff."
"No, please, I do want to forget that." Clint said quietly, rubbing his face.
"One girl. There was one girl who I liked... and you liked her, too. So now we're going to fight over her-"
"Yeah, pistols at dawn" Clint drawled. "Or, we let her make up her own mind... which is kinda' the way ladies like to do things nowadays, in case you hadn't noticed."
Steve stared at him. "I hate you."
"No you don't. You just need to work on your skills."
"Unless those skills are hating you, and never getting shanghaied into any of your stupid ideas again... I'm not interested." Steve said flatly.
The convenor re-entered the room, a beaming smile on her face. "I have your envelopes, be careful not to lose them, because they contain the phone numbers of the ladies you liked, who also said they liked you back. I think you'll all be pleased."
"Very scientific" Clint said quietly.
She went around the room handing out the envelopes to the other men. Some of them were eager, and opened them straight away to see who they'd charmed. Steve stuck his inside his jacket pocket. Clint hesitated. "Aren't you going to look?"
"Later" Steve said dismissively. "Let's go, I'm starving."
He thanked the convenor, nodded at the other men and strode out of the room. Clint hurried to keep up with him.
"So. Japanese food?" Clint asked playfully.
"Uh, no." Steve answered.
"Schwarma it is, then."

.. .. .. ..

(Dinner time)
"You know what I hate about you? That you can demolish a pile of food like that five times a day, and you'll never get fat." Clint said.
Steve shrugged and wiped his hands. They sat in companionable silence for a moment.
"C'mon, can we open the damn envelopes, already?" Clint said.
"You can open yours whenever you like."
"Steve" Clint said "Stop making a thing out of this." He pulled his envelope out of his pocket and held it up. Steve sighed and retrieved his.
Silently they ripped their envelopes open and looked. Clint chuckled, looking quite pleased with himself. "Not bad." he murmured. He handed his list over to Steve for the other man's approval.
Steve took it and scanned it. "Five phone numbers." He nodded. "Well done, you. Going to call any of them?"
"I'm going to call all of them. Just not at the same time, obviously." Clint picked up Steve's letter.
"Hey, you got two! Wait- why is Natasha's phone number on here?"
Steve looked at him like he was crazy "Because what if she'd put my name down, and I didn't put hers? Then she would know I didn't pick her as someone I... liked. And then she would kill me."
Clint laughed.
"I can't believe you didn't put her name down... you are foolhardy." Steve chided.
"I am not scared of Natasha Romanoff." Clint said. Just then his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it. "Oh crap, it's Natasha" he hissed. He hit 'end call', then put the phone back in his pocket, trying to look natural. "I didn't put your name on my list, lady!" he muttered."You're a dead man." Steve muttered.
"Nah, I'm gonna throw you at her and run away. That's my zombie survival plan- also works on the Black Widow." Clint said lightly. "You actually gonna go out with her? You know, in public, on a date-type thing?"
"No!" Steve said, blushing instantly. "She won't want to go out with me. The way I react to things embarrasses her. I talked her into watching a DVD with me one day, The Lion King. She walked out when I started crying."
Clint stared at him. "I... can't says I blame her."
Steve pulled a face at his friend. Then he shrugged. "Anyway. She just went tonight to mess with us."
"Ain't that the truth?" Clint drawled. He tipped his head to the side, thoughtfully. "I'm not going to call Rebecca... at least not straight away. You should call her and set something up."
Steve frowned. "Don't not call her just because you feel sorry for me."
"It's not that- I don't feel sorry for you, trust me. Between your metabolism and your upper body strength, I'm pretty sure I actually kind-of hate you. But... I don't want to be greedy. You see how you go with her, first."
"She has your number, too. What if she calls you...?"
"Then I will go out with her!" Clint enthused.
"Fair enough." He reached across the table and shook Clint's hand." Can we go home, now? I've been in a nervous sweat all night, and I'd really like to take a shower."
Clint laughed mercilessly. "Okay, you can go home and sulk now. The bad man has had his fun." he folded his list of phone numbers up, and slid it into his wallet for safe-keeping.
"I'm not sulking" Steve said petulantly, stuffing his very short list into his pocket again. "But if you ever ask me to go anywhere with you ever again, to do anything, I'm saying NO. And probably punching you in the back of the head for good measure."
Clint smiled.

.. .. .. ..

(later)

Steve emerged from the bathroom, refreshed from his shower. In the low light of his bedroom he could see the message receivedlight flash on his phone. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and he tapped the phone to open the message.

[Hi Steve, this is Natasha. We met tonight at the speed dating event. Dinner next Saturday, if you're free?]

Steve's eyes widened in horror.

Clint didn't have to worry about Natasha killing him- Steve would do that himself.

.. .. .. ..

Author's note: No. I am not officially shipping Steve/Natasha (Stevasha? Nateve?) BUT… what would you think of one more fic, with Nat being Steve's fairy godmother with a gun? They go out on a date, just to interact socially, and mess with Clint a little? Like it? Drop me some feedback here… if there's enough interest, I just might give it a crack! THANKS FOR READING, by the way… thanks for sticking with me til the end, I'm glad you liked it! And thank you for all the encouragement along the way xx