Written to: Team - Lorde, crosspost from AO3
Aleatory: Relying on chance or an uncontrolled element in the details of life or in the creation of art. Not that Pollock's work is crap, by any means, but to be fair it does look rather randomly done.
"Nat, it's not like we need the money from the art police or whoever handles these things," Clint protests in a half-whisper as he lowers Natasha to the MoMA floor. "So I think what you must be saying is that this is your way of trying to be wild and reckless one last time before we get married," he continues. "And you don't have to do that, we can still be wild and reckless afterwards, I don't care, that would be fine, and Jesus Christ you can't just take that, that's a Pollock, are you insane, that's one of the most famous works -"
Natasha reels herself back up on the rappelling line, the painting in tow, and shushes Clint with a careful kiss.
"Hush up, you old bat," she hisses as she swings herself easily through the ceiling. "It's just for fun, and we'll return it next week. Just think about it like some very expensive, very random library book we've checked out for a bit."
Clint wants to protest, but Natasha is dragging him out of the museum and he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets it be.
"I can't believe you lost it." Clint runs his hands through his hair, making the brown strands stand up wild and ruffled. "How did you lose it, where could you possibly have put it? This room is spotless, and it's not here!"
Little do either of them know that Modi had been on a rampage throughout the tower only a few hours earlier. The baby had snatched up the page of scribbles, had eyed it for approximately three seconds before fashioning a large, crude paper airplane out of it and promptly setting fire to it in the large fireplace in the living room. The tower had smelt like turpentine and burnt wax, but Natasha and Clint had just assumed that it was Tony doing something weird in his lab again.
"Don't worry, I can fix this," Natasha says, but from the look of panic on her face, Clint is beginning to have serious doubts. "Go to the store and get me tea and some Magic Markers and some of that thick parchment paper stuff," Natasha commands, and Clint squints at her sceptically but follows her orders.
Clint watches with amusement as Natasha stains the paper with tea, and scribbles fiercely over the page with Magic Marker.
Two hours or so later, Natasha stands up, brushing off her knees and presents the finished work to him.
"It looks like absolute crap," he says, rather truthfully, and Natasha smiles triumphantly.