I think that last chapter is my favorite so far - Natasha and Loki just have such chemistry [even when it's a very off-beat, silly chemistry] that I couldn't help myself. Since I'm co-writing Case Red, I thought it would be funny to have a comical, reverse scenario where SHE frightens HIM. ;)
No Lokasha in this story, since I'm an equally big fan of CLINTasha, but I'm glad you enjoyed their little encounter!
Entry #16: Manhattan [or, "The Phone Call"]
Meanwhile back at Clint's house, two bachelor Avengers sat around the kitchen table looking somewhat forlorn. Barton was munching on a piece of toast and Stark was chugging coffee straight out of the coffee-pot.
After several awkward moments of (relative) silence, Stark set down his oversized mug of caffeine and said, "Look on the bright side. You won't have to worry about crossing the street at night. Those T-shirts are so florescent, the cars will see you coming from a mile away."
Clint groaned through a mouthful of toast. "But they're PINK, Stark! PINK! I can't wear pink!"
Tony smirked, taking another swig of coffee. "You know, they say it takes a real man to wear pink."
"Yeah, yeah, not falling for that one," Clint groused, swallowing his last bite of toast. It had been two hours since he had discovered the repugnant load of pink laundry (how Natasha's red PJ's had ended up in the washer was not exactly a mystery—Clint vowed to get Loki back for that later).
Unfortunately, Stark had almost eaten the archer out of house and home, and there was still no sign of Natasha and her mischievous tag-along. Clint glanced out the window. It was still early, about two o' clock in the afternoon, but they should be back by now.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" Clint swiftly attempted to leap to his feet, but failed in epic style. He caught his boot on the crossbar of the chair-legs, knocking the whole thing over and neatly falling flat on his face. A second chair fell on top of him.
Tony sauntered by, still holding the coffee-pot. "Please, don't trouble yourself," he said, casually walking toward the front door as Clint attempted to extract himself from the tangle of legs and chair. However, his ninja-like skills did not serve him well in this particular instance. The headpiece splintered as Clint bashed it into the wall, and when he tried to kick himself free, all four chair-legs went flying across the kitchen in different directions.
By then Tony had already discovered the combination and unlocked the door… with a little assistance from the ever-present Jarvis, who had been previously downloaded to his cell phone. When he opened it, he stared at the two bedraggled figures in mild surprise. Natasha peered at him from over an arm-load of grocery bags, and Loki was saddled with five more, as well as several clothing items such as shirts and jeans thrown over one shoulder. They were still on their hangers, and each one had a tag on it that said, "Clearance Sale."
Clint's sports car was parked in the driveway. The trunk was open, and fairly bursting at the seams. The entire backseat had also been packed full of foodstuffs and various other objects—was that a balloon?—and the avalanche of edible delights and Nordstrom boxes even flowed over into the front of the car.
"…So, did you guys buy out the entire mall, or what?"
Natasha marched past Tony toward the kitchen. "Stop talking and go get some groceries. I've been walking around the mall for three and a half hours with a man who cannot humble himself enough to buy a shirt with a 20% off label, will not consume anything from the food court that looks 'toxic,' and does not know how to appreciate fine art. And I'm running incredibly low on patience. You crack one more joke, I explode."
Stark took the hint.
When Natasha entered the kitchen, she was both shocked and horrified to see Agent Barton lying face-down on the tiled floor, amidst the shattered remnants of what might have been a chair. "Clint?!"
Clint slowly rolled over to stare up at Natasha. He looked a bit dazed, but none the worse for wear. Then his gaze shifted until it rested on Loki's smirking face. With an effort, the SHIELD agent dragged himself upright, using the table as support, and growled.
"What happened?" Natasha placed the grocery bags on the table and put a hand on Clint's back.
"I had a fight with a chair," Clint mumbled, turning slightly red in the face.
Loki surveyed the damage. "I see. It appears that you lost."
"Oh no, I'm pretty sure I won," corrected Clint, looking down at what was left of his favorite—but clearly not durable—chair.
At that moment, Stark walked in, holding the grocery bag full of M&M's, the other grocery bag full of Dr. Pepper, a bouquet of flowers, and Loki's birthday balloon. "Did I miss something?" he inquired jovially, placing the items on the table (minus the balloon, which he tied to a chair, and Loki immediately confiscated it anyway). Having had his much-needed dose of caffeine, Tony Stark was now in a very good mood. Although he did find himself missing Pepper, now that he was finally gone on that also much-needed vacation…
Natasha didn't answer, but promptly sank down into the closest chair and waved a tired hand at the door. "Clint, Tony, go finish unloading the car. I know that can't be everything."
Tony shrugged and started walking toward the front door, but Clint pointed at Loki. "How did he get out of helping?"
Natasha turned her stare to Loki.
That was all it took. He was on his feet in a flash, and out the door in seconds.
Clint smirked, trudging out after him.
Once everything edible had been more or less stowed away in either the refrigerator or the pantry, and Loki's supply of new clothes had been stuffed awkwardly under the couch cushions (he had refused to let anyone else touch them—or the couch), Natasha announced that they were going to have a barbecue. Not your average, run-of-the-mill, hum-drum barbecue either. This was going to be an Avengers-worthy barbecue.
Clint expressed some discomfort with the idea. This was HIS house after all, and he didn't want the neighbors filing lawsuits. But Natasha reassured him that this party would remain completely legal.
Satisfied with that promise, and somewhat pacified by the flowers and peppermint ice cream, Clint assumed the role of host and rolled the barbecue out onto the back deck. (The balloon had been for Loki, apparently, because it was now tied to the armrest of "his" couch.)
Tony immediately claimed the lounge chair and poured himself a very tall glass of Dr. Pepper, leaving Clint to fight with the barbecue by himself, and Natasha disappeared into the house to get the ruffles chips. After all, they needed something to snack on while they waited for the real food.
Tony complained that he wanted Fritos instead, but Natasha shushed him as she reemerged from the kitchen and tried to open the bag of ruffles.
There was a long pause.
Finally, Natasha stopped pulling and released the breath she had been holding, glaring at the stubborn bag. "Clint, you got any scissors?"
Clint gave her a very unimpressed stare. "Are you trying to tell me," he drawled, "that the almighty Black Widow has been bested by a bag of ruffles chips?"
Natasha gave him a withering glare, immediately tightening her grip on the bag and yanking as hard as she could. It popped open and several ruffles chips went skittering across the deck. "Hah! Got it," she muttered, tossing the bag onto the wooden table.
Loki was not quite sure whether the hard, crunchy, grease-covered delicacies were really edible. With a ludicrous display of trepidation, he nibbled on the end of one chip. After taking a millisecond to process the taste, he quickly decided that sour-cream-and-onion had been an excellent choice. The Avengers watched in amazement as he popped one after the other into his mouth with such rapidity that it would have put Thor to shame. He might have devoured the entire bag had Tony not swiped it away from him and finished off the chips himself.
Just when Clint was sure he had the barbecue almost started, a loud vibrating sound came from inside his pocket, followed by a tinny version of the Michael Jackson hit song "Beat It."
Natasha gave him a very long look at that.
Clint fished the phone out of his pocket with an annoyed sigh, mumbling something unintelligible. Then he looked at the caller ID and nearly had a severe myocardial infarction: Nick Fury.
Ah, suspense... I hope you liked this entry! ;)
Review if you feel the inclination - I love hearing from you.
~Alassiel