Best Things Happen While You're Dancing
Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movie Universe)
Rating: G
Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanova, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor
Pairings: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanova
Summary: If they could have more missions like this one, they might start to feel like normal people for a change.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. I'm only playing in it for a little while.
He couldn’t quite believe it, but Tony actually felt normal for once. He was given just one night, just one time, where he could return to his life the way it was before the Avengers, before Loki and his war, before Iron Man. Before Afghanistan. He hadn’t realized how much he both missed that life and loathed it at the same time.
It was a lovely evening, all things considered. The air was warm but not hot and sticky. All of high society had turned up for the ball, strutting around like peacocks in the latest spring finest. Tony was right at home. He made himself the center of attention, as always. This he could do. It might be for a mission, this whole charade, but this was cake to him.
All he had to do was maintain that attention. The more people paid attention to him, the less likely they were to notice Thor pick off guards from the perimeter or Clint hovering over the open skylight, ready to act at the first sign of trouble. Or the giant insect aliens that were prancing around in their midst using advanced technology to appear human. Totally average day in the life of Tony Stark.
Luckily, he naturally drew attention. His very presence demanded it and nothing made him happier than to have all eyes on him. He was Tony Stark. Everybody paid attention to him. Until Natasha walked into the room, anyway. She came in on Steve’s arm and suddenly every eye had turned from Tony to her. He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy. That was the whole point of the mission. Get people talking. Keep them speculating.
She danced one round with Steve in his intentionally ill-fitting tuxedo, his hopefully not as bad as they looked dancing, and then she moved on. Almost cruelly. He’d have felt bad for Steve if he didn’t know it was all part of the plan. Steve clearly didn’t fit in and people whispered, talk spreading like wildfire through the room. New money, it was surmised. No taste, no couth, no skill. No wonder such a refined lady would abandon him after one dance.
That’s exactly what they wanted, what they’d hoped would happen. Gossip was the whole point of these parties and they were playing it up to the highest. Steve clung to the wall, acting dejected, and that gave him the best observation point in the entire room. Except for Clint, of course, but not everybody could crouch over a skylight and watch from above.
Bruce had already been there half an hour, casing the room. He was easy to find, once you looked for him, but easy to miss if you weren’t. Natasha found him almost immediately. She flirted, really laid it on thick. He was shy and bumbling. Hers was an act. His wasn’t.
She danced with Bruce, just a few circles of the room. He cleaned up well, Tony had to admit. He was unobtrusive and only slid into focus when he was circling Natasha’s radius. Nobody noticed him until she did and, once his lack of advances had her looking for another partner, he was forgotten about once again. Hiding in plain sight, Bruce was easily able to get enough samples to determine who was actually human and who wasn’t.
And then Natasha found Tony. And once they were together, nobody else in the room mattered to the crowd. All gossip turned to the pair of them. Tony Stark was dancing with the beautiful, mysterious red head and that was all anybody wanted to talk about.
“You’re good,” he muttered quietly, a false smile on his face. Her eyes darted left and right but her head was titled towards his, appearing to have him as her sole focus.
“It’s my job,” she grinned. That was a real smile and he twitched.
“I meant at the dancing.” She giggled so he chuckled loudly. They spun and twirled and her dress flared. The rest of the room was eating this up.
“Comes with the territory. Up close and personal is kind of my business. If I can’t sell it, what good am I?”
“Clint’s a spy and he’s not down here dancing,” he countered. Clint snorted into the mic and he watched as Steve spilled his drink on his jacket in an attempt not to laugh. He had to maintain the wounded lover act, after all.
“Hard to work with a bow and arrow when you’re down amongst the crowd,” she whispered into his ear, the one without the ear bud, and he let his hands slide a little lower down her back. Her eyes flashed dangerously and he quirked an eyebrow. They had to sell this, just like she said.
“Doesn’t he ever get to dance down here with you? Sell the cover?”
“No.” Her response was short, clipped.
“Not even for fun?” She swayed intentionally into his side, perhaps a little rougher than necessary, and somehow managed to glare and smile coyly at the same time. He’d have to ask how she did that. It’d be a good skill to have.
“Is this how it always works with you two? He’s always up there, you’re always down here?”
“It gets the job done.” Her smile was warm and inviting, but her eyes were clear. The conversation was over.
“Tony, we got a problem.” Bruce’s voice was strained over the mic. Tony stumbled, the room twittered around them, and Natasha caught him easily. They laughed it off flirtatiously. He tried to look sufficiently embarrassed. She was much better at this. He didn’t say a word and Bruce took that as his cue to continue.
“We’re surrounded. I can’t tag them all. There’s too many. And I can’t find their holographic projection to disable it. I don’t know how to get the humans out safely without some of Them leaving as well.”
“Call in the thunder, Thor. If we can strike this place with lighting, maybe it’ll short the electronics.” Clint said over the mic.
“Good plan. I’ll head to the basement. That’s where most of their electronics seem to be housed. Maybe if I smash enough stuff, it’ll all short out.” Bruce was out the door without anybody noticing. Tony smiled and drew Natasha close. She tilted her head to the side and looked over his shoulder as he watched the door. They’d have to cause a distraction, something to keep people from noticing their neighbors were large insects in suits. They could do this. They had to do this.
“He’s going to kick my ass for this. Please don’t kick my ass,” he muttered, under his breath, inconspicuous, but just loud enough for Clint to hear through the mic. Tony took a deep breath and Natasha tensed in his arms. She knew what he was about to do and she didn’t push him away or tell him no, so he took that as about all the permission he was likely to get.
He leaned in and kissed her. Her hands tangled in his hair, but she stayed tense, hard as stone, and he tried to make it look good. Even if it felt all wrong. And it felt really wrong. He’d never not enjoyed a kiss as much as he was not enjoying this. He could hear the murmurs from the crowd, though. It was working.
Thunder rolled. The wind whipped up and howled. He could hear the rain begin to beat at the roof. And suddenly, a flash of lighting. The hall went dark and people screamed. A backup generator brought the lights back quickly. Masks flickered. Insect like faces were shown, briefly, and the four eyes around the room got all they needed.
“Bruce, disable that generator. Thor, I need you on the door. I’ve got the back of the room. Natasha and Tony, you’ve got center. Clint, watch our backs.” Steve ordered, already swinging over the buffet table with his gun drawn, dropping the aliens as he spoke. Natasha went low, Tony stood high, both pulling guns. Arrows rained around them, the air slicing with an audible whoosh as each one left Clint’s bow, rapid fire, and hit the target. Suddenly even the generator stopped working and the aliens were revealed for what they were, their holographic human masks dropping out in a flash of pixels.
People screamed and ran for the door and somehow Thor was able to direct the humans one way and smash the bugs instead. Insect like aliens of all kinds scuttled around the room. It was over in under a minute. Humans huddled in corners. The walls and floor were covered with thick green blood. Insect parts were everywhere.
Steve took charge, as always, and ushered people out the door to the safety of the waiting SHIELD cleanup crew. Bruce emerged from a hallway, wiping his hands on a cloth napkin. Tony cocked an eyebrow. Bruce nodded. He was still dressed. He hadn’t even had to Hulk out.
The Avengers huddled together in the center of the room, both congratulating each other on a job well done and surveying the carnage they had created. It was disturbing and rewarding at the same time and Tony wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. But then, he’d never been good at that whole emotions thing.
It took the cleanup crew all of half an hour to get the room clear of insect parts, though they left most of the blood. That would have to be dealt with later, after analysis and observation and pictures were taken.
Clint got all his arrows back and sauntered into the main dance hall just to see what they’d accomplished. He was still dripping wet from Thor’s rainstorm. He slowly lowered himself to the bottom step, two below Natasha, and shook water droplets off his hair.
Natasha had cleaned her dress up a bit, but the silk still showed dark spots where the green blood just wouldn’t come off and now rain dotted it as well. She nudged Clint, just a little, but she was smiling. They didn’t say a word. They didn’t have to. Tony was even starting to pick up on their little cues.
Bruce pulled off the necktie and unbuttoned his shirt, clearly uncomfortable in the fine formal wear. He was restless, but it was just energy, not anger or nerves. He was calm, still in his center, and Tony was glad to see it. He’d never been in a battle where he hadn’t Hulked out before. Tony hoped there’d be more like this.
The civilians had been dealt with, assessed and debriefed and sent on their way. Now it was just SHIELD milling about outside. And the Avengers. The merry band of dysfunction. Thor laughed raucously with Steve outside, beckoning the others to join him.
“Come, friends! Let us partake of some shawarma. Battle always gives me a fierce hunger.” Steve led him away, suggesting something else, anything else, and Tony looked at Bruce. He flicked his eyes towards the door and Bruce understood. He smiled slyly and slid out just as quietly as he had done earlier.
Tony pulled out his phone and accessed a music library, picking the first slow waltz he could find. He amped up the volume and the music filled the hall, echoing off the walls and bouncing down to them. It was sadder than he’d intended, but it fit the intended audience well enough. It wasn’t the quality of an orchestra, not by a long shot, but it would do.
Natasha understood immediately, he could see it in the way she shifted, the glint in her eyes. Everybody else had had their turn. It was only fair. Not that Tony was getting sentimental or anything. Sometimes, rarely, he could be nice. Besides, the small nod and smile of thanks Natasha directed his way made the whole thing worth it.
“Your turn,” she whispered, taking Clint’s hand in her own and leading him to the middle of the room. She laughed, he beamed, and their eyes never left each other, the rest of the world fading away. They didn’t notice Tony close the door, giving them what little privacy he could.
He held his phone high, the music spinning them around the room, and gave them their one dance. They twirled and fell into each other, gliding and moving as one. At the end of the waltz, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands. She pulled him down into a kiss, far more tenderly than anybody knew she was capable of, and the familiarity between them made his heart ache.
As far as they were concerned, it was just the two of them alone against the world. He in his battle gear, her in a blood stained dress, and they were the only two people that mattered. Tony could see it, could see it in every glance, every word, every breath between them. They needed this.
If they had been normal people, this would be a common occurrence, a run of the mill dance at a run of the mill party. She would agonize over who else would be in attendance. He would complain about the cost. But they weren’t normal. Would never be normal. They never even had a fighting chance. They’d forever be the assassin staking out a kill and the partner up on high, seeming miles away but always behind her. Always apart. But they deserved this dance, this kiss, just this one thing. And he’d be damned if he’d let anybody take it away from them.
Rating: G
Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanova, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor
Pairings: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanova
Summary: If they could have more missions like this one, they might start to feel like normal people for a change.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. I'm only playing in it for a little while.
He couldn’t quite believe it, but Tony actually felt normal for once. He was given just one night, just one time, where he could return to his life the way it was before the Avengers, before Loki and his war, before Iron Man. Before Afghanistan. He hadn’t realized how much he both missed that life and loathed it at the same time.
It was a lovely evening, all things considered. The air was warm but not hot and sticky. All of high society had turned up for the ball, strutting around like peacocks in the latest spring finest. Tony was right at home. He made himself the center of attention, as always. This he could do. It might be for a mission, this whole charade, but this was cake to him.
All he had to do was maintain that attention. The more people paid attention to him, the less likely they were to notice Thor pick off guards from the perimeter or Clint hovering over the open skylight, ready to act at the first sign of trouble. Or the giant insect aliens that were prancing around in their midst using advanced technology to appear human. Totally average day in the life of Tony Stark.
Luckily, he naturally drew attention. His very presence demanded it and nothing made him happier than to have all eyes on him. He was Tony Stark. Everybody paid attention to him. Until Natasha walked into the room, anyway. She came in on Steve’s arm and suddenly every eye had turned from Tony to her. He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy. That was the whole point of the mission. Get people talking. Keep them speculating.
She danced one round with Steve in his intentionally ill-fitting tuxedo, his hopefully not as bad as they looked dancing, and then she moved on. Almost cruelly. He’d have felt bad for Steve if he didn’t know it was all part of the plan. Steve clearly didn’t fit in and people whispered, talk spreading like wildfire through the room. New money, it was surmised. No taste, no couth, no skill. No wonder such a refined lady would abandon him after one dance.
That’s exactly what they wanted, what they’d hoped would happen. Gossip was the whole point of these parties and they were playing it up to the highest. Steve clung to the wall, acting dejected, and that gave him the best observation point in the entire room. Except for Clint, of course, but not everybody could crouch over a skylight and watch from above.
Bruce had already been there half an hour, casing the room. He was easy to find, once you looked for him, but easy to miss if you weren’t. Natasha found him almost immediately. She flirted, really laid it on thick. He was shy and bumbling. Hers was an act. His wasn’t.
She danced with Bruce, just a few circles of the room. He cleaned up well, Tony had to admit. He was unobtrusive and only slid into focus when he was circling Natasha’s radius. Nobody noticed him until she did and, once his lack of advances had her looking for another partner, he was forgotten about once again. Hiding in plain sight, Bruce was easily able to get enough samples to determine who was actually human and who wasn’t.
And then Natasha found Tony. And once they were together, nobody else in the room mattered to the crowd. All gossip turned to the pair of them. Tony Stark was dancing with the beautiful, mysterious red head and that was all anybody wanted to talk about.
“You’re good,” he muttered quietly, a false smile on his face. Her eyes darted left and right but her head was titled towards his, appearing to have him as her sole focus.
“It’s my job,” she grinned. That was a real smile and he twitched.
“I meant at the dancing.” She giggled so he chuckled loudly. They spun and twirled and her dress flared. The rest of the room was eating this up.
“Comes with the territory. Up close and personal is kind of my business. If I can’t sell it, what good am I?”
“Clint’s a spy and he’s not down here dancing,” he countered. Clint snorted into the mic and he watched as Steve spilled his drink on his jacket in an attempt not to laugh. He had to maintain the wounded lover act, after all.
“Hard to work with a bow and arrow when you’re down amongst the crowd,” she whispered into his ear, the one without the ear bud, and he let his hands slide a little lower down her back. Her eyes flashed dangerously and he quirked an eyebrow. They had to sell this, just like she said.
“Doesn’t he ever get to dance down here with you? Sell the cover?”
“No.” Her response was short, clipped.
“Not even for fun?” She swayed intentionally into his side, perhaps a little rougher than necessary, and somehow managed to glare and smile coyly at the same time. He’d have to ask how she did that. It’d be a good skill to have.
“Is this how it always works with you two? He’s always up there, you’re always down here?”
“It gets the job done.” Her smile was warm and inviting, but her eyes were clear. The conversation was over.
“Tony, we got a problem.” Bruce’s voice was strained over the mic. Tony stumbled, the room twittered around them, and Natasha caught him easily. They laughed it off flirtatiously. He tried to look sufficiently embarrassed. She was much better at this. He didn’t say a word and Bruce took that as his cue to continue.
“We’re surrounded. I can’t tag them all. There’s too many. And I can’t find their holographic projection to disable it. I don’t know how to get the humans out safely without some of Them leaving as well.”
“Call in the thunder, Thor. If we can strike this place with lighting, maybe it’ll short the electronics.” Clint said over the mic.
“Good plan. I’ll head to the basement. That’s where most of their electronics seem to be housed. Maybe if I smash enough stuff, it’ll all short out.” Bruce was out the door without anybody noticing. Tony smiled and drew Natasha close. She tilted her head to the side and looked over his shoulder as he watched the door. They’d have to cause a distraction, something to keep people from noticing their neighbors were large insects in suits. They could do this. They had to do this.
“He’s going to kick my ass for this. Please don’t kick my ass,” he muttered, under his breath, inconspicuous, but just loud enough for Clint to hear through the mic. Tony took a deep breath and Natasha tensed in his arms. She knew what he was about to do and she didn’t push him away or tell him no, so he took that as about all the permission he was likely to get.
He leaned in and kissed her. Her hands tangled in his hair, but she stayed tense, hard as stone, and he tried to make it look good. Even if it felt all wrong. And it felt really wrong. He’d never not enjoyed a kiss as much as he was not enjoying this. He could hear the murmurs from the crowd, though. It was working.
Thunder rolled. The wind whipped up and howled. He could hear the rain begin to beat at the roof. And suddenly, a flash of lighting. The hall went dark and people screamed. A backup generator brought the lights back quickly. Masks flickered. Insect like faces were shown, briefly, and the four eyes around the room got all they needed.
“Bruce, disable that generator. Thor, I need you on the door. I’ve got the back of the room. Natasha and Tony, you’ve got center. Clint, watch our backs.” Steve ordered, already swinging over the buffet table with his gun drawn, dropping the aliens as he spoke. Natasha went low, Tony stood high, both pulling guns. Arrows rained around them, the air slicing with an audible whoosh as each one left Clint’s bow, rapid fire, and hit the target. Suddenly even the generator stopped working and the aliens were revealed for what they were, their holographic human masks dropping out in a flash of pixels.
People screamed and ran for the door and somehow Thor was able to direct the humans one way and smash the bugs instead. Insect like aliens of all kinds scuttled around the room. It was over in under a minute. Humans huddled in corners. The walls and floor were covered with thick green blood. Insect parts were everywhere.
Steve took charge, as always, and ushered people out the door to the safety of the waiting SHIELD cleanup crew. Bruce emerged from a hallway, wiping his hands on a cloth napkin. Tony cocked an eyebrow. Bruce nodded. He was still dressed. He hadn’t even had to Hulk out.
The Avengers huddled together in the center of the room, both congratulating each other on a job well done and surveying the carnage they had created. It was disturbing and rewarding at the same time and Tony wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. But then, he’d never been good at that whole emotions thing.
It took the cleanup crew all of half an hour to get the room clear of insect parts, though they left most of the blood. That would have to be dealt with later, after analysis and observation and pictures were taken.
Clint got all his arrows back and sauntered into the main dance hall just to see what they’d accomplished. He was still dripping wet from Thor’s rainstorm. He slowly lowered himself to the bottom step, two below Natasha, and shook water droplets off his hair.
Natasha had cleaned her dress up a bit, but the silk still showed dark spots where the green blood just wouldn’t come off and now rain dotted it as well. She nudged Clint, just a little, but she was smiling. They didn’t say a word. They didn’t have to. Tony was even starting to pick up on their little cues.
Bruce pulled off the necktie and unbuttoned his shirt, clearly uncomfortable in the fine formal wear. He was restless, but it was just energy, not anger or nerves. He was calm, still in his center, and Tony was glad to see it. He’d never been in a battle where he hadn’t Hulked out before. Tony hoped there’d be more like this.
The civilians had been dealt with, assessed and debriefed and sent on their way. Now it was just SHIELD milling about outside. And the Avengers. The merry band of dysfunction. Thor laughed raucously with Steve outside, beckoning the others to join him.
“Come, friends! Let us partake of some shawarma. Battle always gives me a fierce hunger.” Steve led him away, suggesting something else, anything else, and Tony looked at Bruce. He flicked his eyes towards the door and Bruce understood. He smiled slyly and slid out just as quietly as he had done earlier.
Tony pulled out his phone and accessed a music library, picking the first slow waltz he could find. He amped up the volume and the music filled the hall, echoing off the walls and bouncing down to them. It was sadder than he’d intended, but it fit the intended audience well enough. It wasn’t the quality of an orchestra, not by a long shot, but it would do.
Natasha understood immediately, he could see it in the way she shifted, the glint in her eyes. Everybody else had had their turn. It was only fair. Not that Tony was getting sentimental or anything. Sometimes, rarely, he could be nice. Besides, the small nod and smile of thanks Natasha directed his way made the whole thing worth it.
“Your turn,” she whispered, taking Clint’s hand in her own and leading him to the middle of the room. She laughed, he beamed, and their eyes never left each other, the rest of the world fading away. They didn’t notice Tony close the door, giving them what little privacy he could.
He held his phone high, the music spinning them around the room, and gave them their one dance. They twirled and fell into each other, gliding and moving as one. At the end of the waltz, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands. She pulled him down into a kiss, far more tenderly than anybody knew she was capable of, and the familiarity between them made his heart ache.
As far as they were concerned, it was just the two of them alone against the world. He in his battle gear, her in a blood stained dress, and they were the only two people that mattered. Tony could see it, could see it in every glance, every word, every breath between them. They needed this.
If they had been normal people, this would be a common occurrence, a run of the mill dance at a run of the mill party. She would agonize over who else would be in attendance. He would complain about the cost. But they weren’t normal. Would never be normal. They never even had a fighting chance. They’d forever be the assassin staking out a kill and the partner up on high, seeming miles away but always behind her. Always apart. But they deserved this dance, this kiss, just this one thing. And he’d be damned if he’d let anybody take it away from them.