amanuensis1 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amanuensis1) wrote2012-11-16 02:04 pm
amanuensis1) wrote2012-11-16 02:04 pm
FICLET: Tony-centric, Clint/Natasha
The Clint/Natasha comm ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
be_compromised is having a comment fic fest today to upend all the usual clichés about our spyvenger duo: Natasha only drinks vodka, Clint sews them up in the field, Natasha's been a ballerina, Clint has mechanic skills, etc. I maxi-drabbled here: Tony-centric Clint/Natasha Opposite Day anti-cliché thingy.
"Stark, three o'clock!"
Tony turned to his right, killing the boot repulsors to stop his upward motion. Hawkeye's warning had come just in time; the energy bolt fizzed past Tony's helmeted ear. "Shit!" The blast as the bolt hit the window ledge meters below him had him yelling, "Shit! Barton!" as chunks of concrete tore away; Hawkeye's perch was obscured in smoke and rubble. Twisting, Tony reengaged the repulsors to zoom in Barton's direction.
Barton wasn't falling, though. Barton was...
...still standing in that smoke, balancing on one leg, on his goddamn toes on the remnants of the ledge. Tony was still ten meters distant when Barton got his other leg under him on that pinpoint of a perch, already nocking another arrow and taking aim at the nearest skyscraper. "I got this, go, Stark. Take them out." Tony obligingly swooped around Barton as the grappling arrow sailed; okay, if Barton said he had it, he had it.
He kept one HUD window on the reverse camera all the same as he headed for the flying robot menaces again. Barton was already sailing down the tether. "Nice tippy toe work, Barton," Tony said.
A grunt from Barton. "Haven't been on pointe in so long my leotards have rotted in my locker," he said, securing his new position on the rooftop even as he sent off a fresh explosive arrow at the robot threat.
Tony didn't pause, but maybe his aim shook just a little from his laughter as he said, "Ballet? You?"
"Stark--" Barton snorted and Tony killed the reverse camera; that was reassurance enough Barton didn't need him-- "sniper, marksman, high places; what part of that makes you think perfect balance isn't part of the job?"
Natasha's frequency cut into the comm. "Stark, are you harassing my talented boyfriend again?"
Tony grinned as another flying robot blew to bits in the glow of his palm repulsors. "Thought I was your talented boyfriend."
Another robot went down in Tony's peripheral vision, victim of another of Hawkeye's missiles. Barton said, "You got the 'boy' part right."
It was Natasha's turn to snort. "Would you two just destroy those things and get back down here; Banner's defused the nuclear countdown and I'm starving for a cheesesteak and a Corona. Which Clint promised to buy me."
"Patience, my delicate flower."
Tony's grin widened and he focused on killing flying robots.
be_compromised is having a comment fic fest today to upend all the usual clichés about our spyvenger duo: Natasha only drinks vodka, Clint sews them up in the field, Natasha's been a ballerina, Clint has mechanic skills, etc. I maxi-drabbled here: Tony-centric Clint/Natasha Opposite Day anti-cliché thingy."Stark, three o'clock!"
Tony turned to his right, killing the boot repulsors to stop his upward motion. Hawkeye's warning had come just in time; the energy bolt fizzed past Tony's helmeted ear. "Shit!" The blast as the bolt hit the window ledge meters below him had him yelling, "Shit! Barton!" as chunks of concrete tore away; Hawkeye's perch was obscured in smoke and rubble. Twisting, Tony reengaged the repulsors to zoom in Barton's direction.
Barton wasn't falling, though. Barton was...
...still standing in that smoke, balancing on one leg, on his goddamn toes on the remnants of the ledge. Tony was still ten meters distant when Barton got his other leg under him on that pinpoint of a perch, already nocking another arrow and taking aim at the nearest skyscraper. "I got this, go, Stark. Take them out." Tony obligingly swooped around Barton as the grappling arrow sailed; okay, if Barton said he had it, he had it.
He kept one HUD window on the reverse camera all the same as he headed for the flying robot menaces again. Barton was already sailing down the tether. "Nice tippy toe work, Barton," Tony said.
A grunt from Barton. "Haven't been on pointe in so long my leotards have rotted in my locker," he said, securing his new position on the rooftop even as he sent off a fresh explosive arrow at the robot threat.
Tony didn't pause, but maybe his aim shook just a little from his laughter as he said, "Ballet? You?"
"Stark--" Barton snorted and Tony killed the reverse camera; that was reassurance enough Barton didn't need him-- "sniper, marksman, high places; what part of that makes you think perfect balance isn't part of the job?"
Natasha's frequency cut into the comm. "Stark, are you harassing my talented boyfriend again?"
Tony grinned as another flying robot blew to bits in the glow of his palm repulsors. "Thought I was your talented boyfriend."
Another robot went down in Tony's peripheral vision, victim of another of Hawkeye's missiles. Barton said, "You got the 'boy' part right."
It was Natasha's turn to snort. "Would you two just destroy those things and get back down here; Banner's defused the nuclear countdown and I'm starving for a cheesesteak and a Corona. Which Clint promised to buy me."
"Patience, my delicate flower."
Tony's grin widened and he focused on killing flying robots.
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