We have what we have when we have it.

[chernyypauk]

redplanetblueplanet​:

“I don’t really expect such a saucy knave to go down without a fight,” M’gann said. “But I shall give it my bubblegum best.” With a flat palm and then a flick of the wrist the remaining gum splotches rose from the ground and splatted into the bucket. She set the pail down. “In all seriousness, my prime suspect has a baby. I might just need to talk to her woman to woman and save my sticky, chewed up inner Wintergreen rage for someone more worthy of it.” 

“How have you been keeping busy, Natasha? Four months pass and it feels like we’re almost different people now.” M’gann knew that she felt different at least. “I don’t know about you, but I feel older. Not wiser,” she clarified. “Just old enough to care both more and less about my world-weariness.” M’gann shot Natasha a wry smile. “Tell me, what’s been going on with you?” Hopefully four months had given Natasha a new outlook on her alien teammate.

...

“Re-settling and re-adjusting, mostly.” Three years undercover with the ISA was a long job, even by her standards. Natasha was built for undercover work, had found herself slipping right back into the role of spy like a well-worn pair of boots, though this time was not without complications: little to no contact had been...difficult, working as an ISA agent made Natasha question just what she was doing and her morals entirely, and she’d been left with a lot of time to think and stew on how she wished she’d never signed the Accords in the first place.   “Waiting for the dust to settle before I get to work on a personal project or two.” Kind of necessary, considering her exit from the ISA had not exactly been quiet and keeping her nose down would probably be a good idea for a little while. Not that she’d ever been very good at that. “Mostly, I’ve been catching up on what all I’ve missed and making supply lists.” And poking her nose where it didn’t exactly belong in regards to who was hoarding what supplies, but that was technically part of the job.

[chernyypauk]

codenamehavkeye​:

Holy shit. The thought echoed quietly through Clint’s mind, threaded through with total disbelief and breathless excitement. Because holy shit, it was actually happening. He’d known that from the start, obviously—they were in the church getting married, after all, weren’t they?—and still, when Natasha pulled out the ring she’d picked for him—

Clint swallowed down some tight-sweet feeling that’d been clogging his throat, hand in Natasha’s as she said her vows and slid the ring onto his hand. He’d said he’d never get married again, wear a ring again, do this whole song and dance again, but for Natasha? His impossible girl? 

Yeah. Yeah. He squeezed the fingers holding his, pulling back when the priest murmured to him. Clenched his hand a couple times to get used to the welcome weight, smiled, and held his right hand out for Natasha’s left as his now-ringed hand slid into his suit jacket to retrieve her ring from the inner pocket: a delicate thing with rounded edges and the thinnest little line of diamonds inset along the top. 

“I, Clint Francis Barton, take you, Natalia Alianova Romanova,” his mouth quirked, the name falling easy off his tongue after over a decade of lessons in Russian, “Natasha Romanoff, and anyone else you ever decide to be, to be my wife. I never thought we’d end up anywhere near here, but I should’ve known better—you always have a way of making impossible things happen, of making things feel real, and I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you. Ride or die, baby.” The ring slid onto her finger, notching perfectly into place. 

Clint didn’t need a translation for the next bit. His arms opened for Natasha when the priest stepped back, and he was smiling into her pretty red mouth as he lifted her off her feet.

....

Natasha couldn’t help but grin as Clint swept her right off of her feet, instinctively bending her knees just slightly as she did to fully lift her heels off the ground. Hands came up to cup both sides of his face, a contented, happy hum leaving her against his lips with half-lidded eyes temporarily sliding to a close. It was easy to lose herself for a moment, to the warm familiar slide of his lips on her own, though she pulled back after just a moment to smile at him. She ducked in again, planting two more pecked kisses on his lips with a light, blissful sigh leaving her.  “I do like to have my way with impossible things,” she mused, reaching up with the thumb of her right hand to gently wipe away a few smears of lipstick she’d left behind. “Like getting you in a suit.” A tease, light and playful in the middle of the lump of emotion she was still trying to swallow around. Her hand then moved to her face, swiping under one eye quickly to wipe away any incriminating moisture that might smear her mascara. “You have a way of making impossible things happen, too, y’know. Like getting me in a wedding dress.” This wasn’t the future she’d seen for herself, not in a thousand lifetimes. Maybe in a dream, far away and ...intangible. Not here, right in her grasp with a new weight of a ring on her finger. The pastor was speaking again, the ceremony concluded but -- “Speaking of impossible,” Natasha began, before turning to speak to the pastor in Hungarian. She was opening her clutch to pull out a small digital camera and a cell phone (a burner, for this purpose and trip alone) and pass them over. “Photos. At least one. Maybe I’ll get into scrapbooking, in all my free time. Plus, Cap might kill us if we don’t get one.”

[chernyypauk]

goddamnhowling​:

Bucky wouldn’t lie—he’d also be a hell of a lot more comfortable with a tiny team they trusted, people whose skills on and off the field they knew like the backs of their hands. But they both knew it wasn’t practical. 

Ugh.

But he focused in as the conversation turned, his question bred an answer that he was as uncomfortable with as Natasha was, the not knowing of it all crawl-skittering up his spine. There were plenty of active Red Room agents he’d known about just a few years ago, when he’d been with Hydra. Things in their reports that he’d noted but they hadn’t, agents he’d seen but they hadn’t been able to recognize. But his intel was outdated now. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied, huffing a laugh. “No idea why she wouldn’t like you though—you two aren’t all that different,” he noted, mouth quirking. “Woulda asked her out if I hadn’t been trying so hard to set her up with Steve.”

...

“I’m going to be doing a good deal of the back-end work myself, but as much as it pains me to admit it...we could probably use her reach and skillset.” Natasha knew that playing to strengths was smart and necessary, knew that Oracle was the key player when it came to the technical side of things and overseeing missions...even if Natasha may not necessarily love that fact. “I may or may not have poked the bear back in SHIELD and made a mess of any potential personal relationship outside of required job duties, so I think my asking a favor is probably going to be out of the question. Planning on flying by the seat of my pants here, and by that I mean getting by on Steve’s relationship with her and your apparent thing for redheads tied in with that old-time charm.” Natasha made a face at the comparison, nose scrunched up in distaste and paired with a sharp shake of the head. “I don’t have a giant stick up my ass, and I just might take a little offense at this particular comparison.”

[chernyypauk]

nomadcaptain​:”

Steve understood that pain, and he was glad that the people they once thought to be lost to them were back in their lives. He was certain that Natasha wanted to protect her younger sister from any further damage. The comment about the Red Room also echoed his own feelings about Hydra, making him straighten his posture without conscious thought. “That’s how they operate, Nat. You were there to take down SHIELD, and Hydra is still out there. But I’ll gladly set the beginning of the end with the Red Room first, we won’t leave anything behind this time.”

And alright, now she was just playing with him. “Dear God, you did. You got married while out on a mission! That’s the definition of eloping.”

...

“Squish one bug and ten more appear.” A joke, though the bitterness that snuck into her tone ruined it; it was hard not to be sour, after all the work they’d done, after all of the blood and destruction that had inevitably amounted to nothing. “All we’ve done is make them better at hiding. But we’ll smoke them out.” This time, she would not let herself be fooled and she would not stop until she knew that the Red Room and all of those responsible for bringing in and training new Widows were sent straight to hell and stayed there. She would make sure, be thorough, wouldn’t stop until every last bit of it was gone. “Not a thing. Not a chance. I thought it was gone, and I won’t make the same mistake twice.” A smile twitched in her cheek as she spun the ring on her finger, admiring it for a moment before tucking her hand into her elbow as she crossed her arms. “Is it eloping or is it simply a small ceremony? Either way, I wouldn’t say you’re wrong.”

[chernyypauk]

redplanetblueplanet​:

“That’s the idea. No greater humiliation than to be bound to one’s own ball of chewing gum and then pressed against the wall of the castle like a Bazooka Bubblegum snow angel for all to see.” M'gann sighed, quite pleased with the thought. Plus she could certainly pick up feelings of guilt without any sort of mind reading. She thought back. “It was, sort of. Everyone was getting a bit, er, up in everyone else’s business back then. I’m glad that things have mellowed out in my absence… Though the word on the street is that the small kitchen needs a deep clean.” She huffed. Food safety was always a concern, especially with so many people in one place. 

“No need,” she laughed. The scarf disappeared, and the gloves, and even her little polka-dot dress. For a moment, she became Harrison Ford’s Indiana Jones. Then she became M'gann wearing Indiana Jones’ clothing. Stetson fedora, whip at her hip, beige suit, and everything. “And I’ll be pushing the ball through telekinesis. I’m all for avoiding that sort of stickiness when I can!”

...

“Bazooka bubblegum snow angel,” Natasha echoed, amusement alight in green eyes with full lips spreading into a smile across her face. “That’s certainly an image. Vivid, not one I’ll forget any time soon. I’d say the theat of that is more than enough to properly strike fear into the hearts of the gum sticker. Should be, in any case. If it happens to actually transpire, I ask that you please have photo evidence. I also wouldn’t object to watching. Entertainment’s a priority.” TV was good, but live and in real time would be so much better.  Natasha watched as M’gann’s appearance shifted, expression kept on the amused side of neutral. She let a beat pass, stepping up from where she’d been leaning against the railing. “All things sticky should be avoided,”  Natasha agreed, taking a slow two steps towards the new face. “That goes for the kitchen as well. I vote for delegation, considering you’re already scraping gum and that’s sticky enough.”

[chernyypauk]

goddamnhowling​:

“Fine, point.” Bucky acknowledged, cracking his neck. No Batman. It made sense. “Not gonna lie, I think that a lot of the Justice League folks and mutants wouldn’t fit. They have their own ideas of morality, and those who might be alright with eliminating a threat at the source aren’t all that subtle. Or good at taking orders. Or sane.” Which might be rich, coming from him. Bucky gave the question another moment of thought, before another one twisted through him, and—

He gave Natasha a slow, considering look. “Natashenka.” The nickname came soft, his hoarse-rumble voice going smooth. “Have you looked into any active Red Room operatives?”

...

“I have a running list.” It was a work in progress, for certain. “Like I said, I want this to be small and controlled. If I had my way it would be a team of four, but I’m not naive enough to jump into taking down the Red Room without a parachute.” If it were up to her, it would be herself, Clint, Bucky and Cap with little to no outside involvement whatsoever...but this operation was bigger than her and her wants and comfort. She had to play this smart, safe, even if that meant expanding her occupational social circle. Even if it meant working with Oracle. “I think we can work with a lack of sanity,” Natasha said, lips curving upward into a slow-forming smile. “We’re lacking in that department anyway, and I can’t say any of the hero sort fall into the ‘sane’ category. We jump off buildings without a plan for landing.” The nickname had her eyebrows furrowing slightly, just for a brief half of a second before her expression re-adjusted to neutral. It would never not be strange, she decided; it would never not be strange to both know him in a way that felt so sure and deep and intricate and to not know him at all. “Work in progress,” Natasha admitted after a moment, raising both her eyebrows quickly as she sighed out a slow breath and leaned back against the table behind her, both hands behind her to brace themselves on the table’s surface. “Maybe you can poke your head into Oracle’s lair, see if you can call in a favor. She probably likes you a good deal more than she likes me, and you’ve always had a way with redheads.”

[chernyypauk]

codenamehavkeye​:

It was the most natural thing in the world to raise his brows at Natasha’s tease as the priest went on, anticipation bubbling up in his chest. Everything felt unreal, something out of a dream, while simultaneously being the realest thing he’d felt in years. And then Natasha started. 

And, yeah, almost, almost made him cry. Clint had to clench his jaw and blink the emotion away, knowing his mouth was twisting a bit, because—they didn’t really talk like this, not often. It was all just understood. But if there was ever a time to spill everything twisted all up inside their heads…

He huffed a laugh at the way Natasha ended her vows, the good-heavy tension of the moment broken. The priest took a beat to make sure she was done before continuing, saying—whatever it was he said (that Natasha would translate). Before turning to him, and Clint knew it was his cue. 

“When I met you, I thought I’d never be doing this again,” Clint chuckled, nodding his head towards—everything. “And to be honest, even though you were probably the prettiest, smartest, most dangerous little thing I’d ever seen, that didn’t change for a long time. Because I didn’t want to push, and I honestly thought friendship would be enough, because Natasha… You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” And wasn’t that the crux of it? “Before everything else. I’d never known anyone half as loyal, who loves even half as hard as you do, until I met you. And especially not to me. It was like… I couldn’t believe it, at first. That I’d be so lucky. That you’d let me, yeah, find a home in you, and build you one right back. I don’t know if I can promise you that we’ll have this forever, ‘Tasha, or that we’ll ever get to be old, but I can promise it as long as I’m alive. This is it for me. You are it for me. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. Right there, covering your six, through the good and the bad.” His mouth quirked, hands squeezing hers. “Can’t wait for a lifetime of blowing things up and trash TV.” 

He turned back to the priest, who said something and motioned to Natasha.

.... The swell of emotion washing over her was not unexpected, considering the setting and the stage, though Natasha still found herself unprepared for it. Talking was not really their thing, and everything they felt was so often unsaid in a comfortable, easy way. Natasha knew that she loved him, knew that he loved her in return, and words were messy. Words were so messy, and despite knowing how she felt and knowing that how much she loved Clint would always ring true, she’d been more nervous than she’d been in years when it came to putting vows together - as luck would have it, the flowed with no hesitation or hiccups, came just as effortlessly as loving him every day did. Blinking away misty vision (because she would be damned if she had smeared mascara for her wedding, even for a moment) and quietly clearing her throat as she reached to open the tiny white clutch she’d collected at a thrift store to match the dress. “My turn again,” she began, voice wavering a little as slim fingers worked quickly to retrieve the ring she’d selected for clint from the velvet box inside - platinum, simple with a beveled outer edge for more of a matte finish, practical considering that was an outright demand in their line of work. It felt heavy in her hand, and she took in a slight and subtle breath as she reached across the small space between them to take his left hand. “I, Natalia Alianovna Romanova,” she began with an easy (if a little watery, still misty despite her efforts), “Natasha Romanoff and everything in between, take you, Clinton Francis Barton,” that grin grew a few degrees warmer, wider, spreading naturally across her face, “to be my husband, my life, my heart. I used to think that love was for children, a fairy tale, and you showed me otherwise. So here’s to our fairy tale,” she slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit, just as she’d intended, “full of explosions, pizza, bad trashy TV and jumping off buildings together until the end of the line.”

[chernyypauk]

codenamehavkeye​:

“’Tasha, I think I’ve had them ready for years,” Clint replied—and he couldn’t even find it in himself to wince about saying that kind of shit out loud. It wasn’t romantic; it was honest. Even as they were walking arm in arm down to the altar where the priest was settling in and opening his hands to them in welcome, where a couple scattered people along the pews were turning to look back at them. (Good, they’d need witnesses.) 

No part of this was traditional; no part of this was normal. It was goddamn perfect. 

The stained glass-soaked walk down the aisle seemed to take an eternity and a second all at once. Before he knew it, they were stopping at the altar and turning to face each other while the priest began saying—whatever he was saying, in Hungarian. One of Natasha’s languages, not his. He barely heard it as he stood there holding Natasha’s tiny bone-breaking hands in his and watching the way the afternoon sun made her green eyes glow. 

And then the priest turned to Natasha and said—whatever he said. Clint presumed it was time for her vows, to start.

...

“For years, huh?” Full lips curved upwards, amusement dancing across her features and settling into green eyes. “Sounds like you had all your eggs in one basket, Mr. Barton.” It was a tease, but she’d honestly felt the same: somewhere along the line, her love for Clint had become so powerful to her in a way that she’d never known before and in a way she’d accepted she would never fully understand.  Even with her teasing, she was bordering on nervous herself. Nerves were not something that Natasha was much used to, and when faced with unease she was used to pushing right through the other side without giving any anxiousness much thought. This was never something she’d pictured for her life - love, marriage, sharing her life with someone. It had always felt so far out of reach, and yet here she was with her hands in his in the middle of a chapel in a wedding dress.  As the priest continued with the hurried and condensed ceremony, Natasha smiled at Clint and cast him a wink, teasingly mouthing ‘I’m gonna make you cry’ when the priest had turned to her and cued her in for her vows. This was the nerve-wracking part, but just like always Natasha pushed through: “You are home to me, the only one I’ve ever known. I don’t think of four walls and a roof; I think of you, because wherever you are is home to me.”  English was best, even if the priest might not understand but bits and pieces; he didn’t need to, this was for them. “We’ve already seen it all: for better, for worse and everything in-between. I don’t know if we’ll get to grow old together,” that felt less and less likely, with the climate they were navigating, “but I promise to be there for it all. There’s no one else I’d ever want to face the end of the world with, time and time again, through magic and monsters and everything else. You are my heart, Clint Barton, and I promise to love you through anything life throws at us. And,” that smile began again, ghosting across her lips, “I promise to translate everything he said, as soon as we’re done here.”

[chernyypauk]

redplanetblueplanet​:

“Oh, thank you!” M’gann beamed. “I’ve always admired the slightly bygone fashions of Earth.” Not too far back, lest she be noticed by absolutely everyone, but just far enough that the colors and shapes appealed to the little Martian who had watched old television on the VHS tapes Uncle J’onn had set up in her family’s tiny dugout on Mars. 

She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve collected so much of it that I’ve been considering pressing it all into a giant, disgusting ball and rolling it down the halls Indiana Jones style until I pick up on someone’s guilt.” M’gann sat back a bit. “I worry that our gum chewer would become even more defiant if they were forced to withstand the cold. Perhaps surprise checks of the dormitory garbage cans,” she teased.

...

“You might literally pick up the guilty party with that plan.” What a visual, a ten foot high sticky multicolored glob gaining momentum in the Mousehole hallways. Like a grosser verion of that Giant Boulder of Doom game she’d used to kill times on stakeouts. “Seems fitting, for the theme. From what I heard, the castle was something of a dorm gone wrong situation at the beginning.” Natatsha had only heard snippets considering she hadn’t been present herself and her conversations with Clint were few and far between with little desire to waste precious moments with idle chit chat, but she wished she could’ve been present to see it herself. “We’ll get you the Indiana Jones hat. Maybe keep the gloves, considering.” Natasha scrunched up her nose and shook her head once. “Sounds sticky.” 

[chernyypauk]

redplanetblueplanet​:

@chernyypauk​

Pressing her fingers against the soapy sponge with even more force than before, M’gann struggled to get a particularly caked in bit of gum off the steps to the Mousehole. Doing chores without using her powers was rather more taxing than she liked to admit. She did it that way, sometimes. She’d done a deep clean with her powers when she’d first gotten back. Now that it was that special time of week again, she’d thought it would feel right. And it did. Sort of. A little bit. 

Finally, she gritted her teeth, felt around psychically for anyone nearby who might needle her about giving in, and used her telekinesis to unstick the gum from the stone entirely. There was someone with something to say, but not someone M’gann thought would needle her. At least, she hoped not. She only knew the woman in passing. 

She let the gum drop into her trash bin and looked up at Natasha, red-hair wrapped up in a silk scarf, apron on, yellow gloves, and all. “Lovely afternoon. Isn’t it?”

...

“I like the gloves,” Natasha remarked absently as she approached, pausing to lean against the banister. “The bright yellow with the whole hair thing,” Natasha moved her hands up, gesturing around her own head, “it’s all very I Love Lucy and I mean that in the best possible way.” Full lips curved upward into a small smile, and Natasha nodded in agreement. “Lovely afternoon. Even more lovely without the awful wad of gum on the third step. Thanks for that. Thinking about implementing a no gum rule since a bunch of adults have been acting like we’re in a bad high school movie. I’ve found globs everywhere.” Natasha made a face, nose scrunched up a little in distaste as she shook her head once. “I think I have that authority. If not I can start witholding blankets until someone talks and we find the culprits.”

[chernyypauk]

nomadcaptain​:

Steve watched her closely, waiting for the cryptic quips to give way to elucidation. Surely she didn’t mean that… he let the thought slide, because the Red Room and Yelena were probably a more important conversation topic. Natasha didn’t talk much about her past unless it was pertinent to a mission and Steve didn’t ask unless she looked like she needed a friend. This time it seemed to be both. He didn’t know that she had lived in America with a full fake family in her youth, but he supposed that explained at least a part of her interest in trashy American goods.

“I’m glad you’ve found her again, and that she isn’t with them anymore. She’ll have to go through the standard questioning procedure before we allow her to roam the castle grounds freely, but if she’s a sister to you, she’s welcome here,” he stated, a little concerned for Natasha’s emotional involvement in that, but trusting that they had the tools to deal with it through a neutral perspective. Clint had been there and he was the first person to call off a mission if he believed that she was compromised or at risk. And talking about him… “ Nat, did you elope?”

...

“I am, too. I never knew what happened to her, after the American experiment was complete and we were recycled into the Red Room.” Natasha had never heard of the younger girl again, had found herself wondering if Yelena Belova was even real or if that girl never existed and there was a new name to the face that Natasha would never know. Nartasha hesitated for a moment, gnawing at the inside of her cheek as arms crossed over her chest. “I thought the Red Room was gone,” she began again, arms tightening slightly in their cross. “Everything Clint and I did, it barely made a scratch.”  His question had a smile ghosting across full lips, and Natasha shrugged one shoulder. “What’s the definition of eloping, exactly?”

[chernyypauk]

goddamnhowling​:

She wouldn’t accept his argument, Bucky could tell. Natasha would go on blaming herself for what had happened, would make the sin of daring to have hope for a new future into something huge and horrible in her head, and there was nothing he could do about it. So Bucky gave the redhead a very measured look, gauging the frosty determination and the splintered self-confidence in those green eyes, before nodding. 

“Yelena?” he asked, momentarily surprised, before shaking his head. Neither here nor there. They’d get to that. No wonder she’d brought the other Widow into the Mousehole with her. (He hoped Steve hadn’t shared how vehemently Bucky had been against that when it had happened.) “You considered asking Oracle for her help? From the tech and support side.” He considered, rolled the question around in his mind. “I’d suggest Batman for sheer competence, but. You don’t want to leave survivors this time, do you?”

...

“Yelena,” Natasha confirmed, offering a slight nod. “Clint and I brought her back. We met up in Budapest.” Something of a long story. A story that could serve to be longer, when Natasha got all of it herself. A complicated history that somehow grew to be even more convoluted, somehow. An ever-tangled web ensnaring the both of them, even after they’d escaped the Red Room’s clutches. “Oracle is on my list,” Natasha began, a little hesitantly. “She’s efficient, though I’m not entirely sure she’d approve of how I want to handle things. I’ve heard she’s something of a micromanager and our viewpoints don’t necessarily align.” Not that Natasha had ever worked with the Birds of the Prey, but she heard things. “It’s something I’ll look into. There’s no denying that she’s the best person for the support side of the job.” Natasha felt a smile grow as Bucky suggested Batman, and she shook her head once. “Competent, sure, but I think he’d be best to leave off the roster. No survivors is the goal.”

[chernyypauk]

codenamehavkeye​:

It was prettier than he could’ve imagined. More fitting, too. Clint wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Nat had told him that she’d found a chapel for them, but this place… felt like stepping into a bit of history. Somewhere a hell of a lot older than either of them, that’d been through hell and back, judging from the paint-scraped walls and the rough stone, but was still standing. 

Yeah. He could definitely get married here. 

“It’s perfect,” he said, rubbing a hand along the small of Natasha’s back, eyes still lingering on the stained glass and stonework before going right back to her. He looked after where the priest had gone, he was presuming to grab a couple witnesses, before offering Natasha his arm and nodding towards the altar. “Wanna wait for him in the place of honor?” He flashed a grin. “You are the lady of the hour.”

...

“I thought so, too.” Natasha’s volume was much lower than usual, her hushed stone still echoing around them and against the stone walls. She turned into him at his touch, momentarily tucked into his side as she allowed herself to look around the chapel. “It feels just right.” Natasha had expected to find some justice of the peace or something along those lines to officiate, hadn’t expected to choose a chapel for their ceremony by any means. It was exactly what she wanted, after she’d seen it - small and intimate with scars that told a history, beautiful in a quiet way that became more pronounced when the sunlight hit the stained glass just right.

The place of honor, to the altar directly at the center of the chapel. “Probably should,” Natasha agreed, looping her arm through his and beginning to steer them in its direction. “Hope you’ve got your vows ready. No time for improvising.”

[chernyypauk]

codenamehavkeye​:

“Nat, you know I haven’t been in a church outside of a fight or funeral since I was like… nineteen,” Clint replied with a snicker, giving her hand a squeeze. Just one of the million things she knew about him that he didn’t advertise around, inside-jokes and private stories. Bits and pieces of the fucked-up people they were, they had been, that they only shared with each other. 

Good thing they were getting married. 

“You know? Not at all,” Clint replied cheerfully, giving their arms a little swing between them as they reached the entryway. Imposing. He could smell the polished wood and wax candles before they even stepped inside. Couldn’t wait to see the inside in person; he knew Natasha would’ve picked carefully. “Looking forward to it, actually. Another adventure for Strike Team Delta, yeah?” 

....

“Probably more times than me,” Nat said with a contemplative hum. “I’ve always been intrigued, though.” He’d know that, though - she’d shared that thought before, had brought it up the night before after sharing that she’d found somewhere quiet, private and perfect to share her vows. Natasha had never been religious by any means, had been indoctrined into the world of espionage and assassins rather than that of any religion, but the idea was intriguing; Natasha thought she would never understand how one could put so much faith and belief into something intangible, though there was something she could quietly appreciate about the idea. It made the chapel she’d found for this all the more special, all the more fitting: Natasha may not believe in any deity or high power, though her belief in them and her love for Clint made her understand how much power could be in the unseen. “Another adventure,” Nat confirmed with a smile, ducking in to steal one last kiss before they moved inside. The chapel itself was certainly old and quite small, in disrepair in many ways though it was beautiful in a way that stood out to Natasha. Sunlight streamed in through large window panels, brightening the stone walls and shedding light on the few pews inside. Light catching the stained glass windows at the front of the chapel cast multicolored streams of light onto the stone flooring and walls, blue and green filtering over Natasha’s face as she spoke in Hungarian to the kind-faced man that had been near the altar as they’d stepped inside. “This isn’t exactly a wedding chapel, though he was happy to agree to to it when I stopped in yesterday.” Natasha said once they were left by themselves again, in a quiet voice that still seemed to carry and echo. “He’s squeezing us in between services.”

[chernyypauk]

nomadcaptain​:

Steve kept looking at her with narrowed eyes, trying to make sense of it all. If he were to find a matching ring on Clint’s finger, the couple would have some explaining to do – Steve would be happy for them, of course, and they had to know that much, right? It wasn’t something that needed to stay hidden. The hypocrisy of his own situation, his own loving secret being kept, didn’t escape him in the moment. There would be time to discuss either of those things later, as Natasha went on with details from the mission.

“I don’t see why either of us would deny her shelter, if you’re vouching for her.” He saw certainty in her green eyes. Necessary precautions would be taken to ensure that Yelena wasn’t a spy working against them, but he would never stop Natasha from reconnecting with someone important to her. “Tell me about her. Who was she working for, when you found her?”

...

The narrowed-eyed-expression Steve offered her had Natasha grinning as she settled into the chair across from his desk. “Why do you look so suspicious, Cap? You’re the one who told me to make it a romantic getaway.” And it certainly had been romantic. Their wedding day was everything she wanted, had come together perfectly despite the last minute planning, and Natasha wouldn’t forget a single second of it. “And we certainly did. You’re the one who put the bug in my ear.” But even with the tiptoeing around suspicions and the secret wedding of it all, there was serious business to discuss. Business close to the vest, which had Natasha a little on edge. “We met as children. We were sent away to America on a job, as part of a cover story for two Red Room operatives on a long-term mission. Our training continued under their guidance, but our primary purpose was to help sell their story. We were sisters.” Natasha cleared her throat lightly, sat up a little straighter, posture minutely more stiff around the edges. “After the mission was complete, we were brought back to the Red Room. I never heard of her again. I wasn’t sure of what happened to her.” But she never forgot her - the little blonde girl who had won over her heart, that had made Natasha had a sense of family for the first time in her life. “Until recently. She’d recently escaped herself from the Black Widow program, from the Red Room. She was on her own.”

[chernyypauk]

codenamehavkeye​:

“Cold feet? At the chance to call you Mrs. Barton?” Clint chuckled, pulling their joined hands from Natasha’s lips to his own, mirroring the kiss she’d offered. “No chance in hell. Toasty warm, over here.” Not that he’d ever asked Nat’s opinion on Mrs. Barton before—but he was pretty sure that they were both in good enough moods that she wouldn’t swat him for it.

(And honestly? It kind of had a nice ring to it.)

“C’mon.” Clint’s smile was almost boyish as he turned and got out of the car, stepping out into the sunshine. Idyllic, like Natasha’d somehow planned that too. He made his way around to Natasha’s side of the car and took her hand, giving her a long look. Prettiest girl in the world, with her flaming hair and soft lips, all done up in her spotless white dress. Jesus. He’d always known he was a lucky bastard, but this… “Let’s go.” 

It was a short walk to the chapel.

...

“Alternatively, I could be calling you Mr. Romanoff,” she teased, leaning across to the driver’s side to plant a kiss at the corner of his mouth (and said a silent thank you to the manufacturer of her favorite everything-proof lipstick, painted deep read on plush lips and transferring none to his cheek). “Has a nice ring to it. Or we could combine names. Pretty sure I read that was a thing in some trashy magazine a few years back. Bartonoff. Romaton. Think about it.” Natasha fussed with her skirt to fluff it out with the hand not warmly in his once she stepped out of the car, sunshine warm on her skin as they walked over to the chapel. “I don’t think I’ve ever been inside of a church outside of a fight or funeral in my life and I tried to avoid the former out of respect.” She smiled over at him , heels clicking against the uneven cobblestone steps of the chapel. “You nervous? I promise not to let my palms get all sweaty.” 

[chernyypauk]

nomadcaptain​:

“Great, you both deserved that,” Steve replied without missing a beat, closing the folder he had on his lap and straightening his back to sit properly on the chair. It was good to see Natasha, and he may have been taking his own chances at some romance in the meantime – he expected her to be happy for them as well once the truth came out. There was a glint of metal from her hand at the door that gave him pause and he followed her movements with interest as she walked into the office.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied absent-mindedly, always willing to make time for a friend. But first, the elephant in the room. “That’s not the hand you wear an engagement ring on,” he noted, perhaps naively, raising his eyes to Natasha.

...

“That would be because it’s not an engagement ring.” Natasha wasn’t being intentionally elusive, though the small wedding that she and Clint had put together for themselves had certainly not been mentioned until this point. It had been for them, just for them, after so much time spent apart and years of doing things for everyone but themselves. They’d deserved it, this one small little thing that had been just for them...even if it meant questions later.  “We brought back someone with us.” There was no way to ease into this, so Natasha dove headfirst. “Her name is Yelena Belova. She’s another Black Widow. She’s my sister.” In everything but blood, in ways that meant more to her than Natasha thought blood ever could. “I’m hoping that you and Wonder Woman will allow her to stay here. I’ve already left her behind once, and I’ve no intentions of alowing that to happen again.”