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sarea
Title: Wet Hot Avengers Summer (AO3)
Author:sarea_okelani
Rating: PG-13, for teenagers getting up to what teenagers get up to
Pairings: Clint/Natasha, Tony/Pepper, Thor/Jane, minor Clint/Bobbi and Phil/Cellist, Clint & Coulson, Clint & Tony
Summary: At summer camp, Clint’s met the girl of his dreams. Then he meets her four brothers.
If you missed them: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
//\\
On the last day of camp Clint wakes an hour before the rest of his cabin, despite having gotten in later. Only Phil had still been awake when Clint had finally gotten back, to reassure him that none of the counselors had done a check in.
Clint had still been basking in the euphoria of everything he and Natasha had done, so he was happy to listen to Phil go on and on about how fantastic the dance had been and how he thought he might’ve gotten to second base by accident with the cellist. When he took a long enough breath to ask Clint how his night had gone, Clint was noncommittal. He was bursting to tell someone, to share his happiness, and he knew he could trust Phil, but somehow it just felt too private.
If it’d been up to Clint, he and Natasha would have remained in that attic for the rest of known time.
Last night it had seemed as though time stretched, that if only they stayed together, it could somehow go on forever in the exact same moment. It was an illusion that couldn’t last. Now Clint can see the streaks of color that are just starting to appear in the early-morning gray, and in a few hours he’ll be saying goodbye to Natasha, and he’s not stupid, he knows how this works; they’ll say they’ll keep in touch, that it’s not really goodbye. He’s been through it once or twice before, with a foster sibling, or a rare friend from one of the schools he’s attended. A lasting relationship never happens. It’s hard to stay in touch when lives move in different directions, and when Clint literally moves from place to place. He’s not a great letter writer, never has been. He’ll try for Natasha, of course he will, but soon school will start and she’ll be with her friends and meeting new people, and Clint will fade in her memory, and if he’s lucky she’ll remember him as the boy she hooked up with at summer camp that one time.
When everyone is up and about except him, Clint can’t avoid the inevitable any longer. He dresses and packs his meager few belongings, leaving his suitcase on the bed as they all troop to the dining hall for one last meal.
Natasha’s waiting for him outside. Clint’s heart speeds up. She looks, in the early morning light, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her, even though she has to be as tired as he is. His cabin mates all give Clint sidelong glances, though mercifully don’t say anything.
“Hey,” Clint greets with a smile, and they both automatically fall back behind the others.
“Hi,” Natasha says, and takes hold of his hand with hers.
Clint shoots her a surprised look. They have been extremely discreet in public about their relationship, but apparently that’s over now.
“Just let Tony say something,” she says. “I dare him to.”
Clint’s almost looking forward to the altercation, but Thor and Steve are the only ones who are in the dining hall, which has transformed into its usual appearance once more. It doesn’t take a genius to surmise the reason behind Tony and Bruce’s absence.
“Hangover,” Natasha says succinctly. “Serves them right.” Then a slightly evil glint gets into her eyes. “Hey, do you think we can get into the band room? Maybe borrow a snare drum?”
“I’m pretty sure all that equipment’s being loaded onto a truck as we speak,” Clint laughs.
“Too bad,” Natasha sighs.
They go through the serving line, getting their trays loaded with scrambled eggs, sausage, and pancakes. Clint’s glad he didn’t get pulled for KP duty on the last day of camp – the sleepy campers serving this morning look dead on their feet. Clint and Natasha find a two-person table away from everyone else, even though it’s quiet this morning. There’s hardly anyone there. The clink of silverware on plates is the loudest sound in the room.
Natasha watches as Clint slathers butter onto his pancakes, then pours over an obscene amount of syrup. He’s just taken a huge bite when she says, “You’re going to call me, right?”
“Yeah,” Clint says with his mouth full. He’s glad to have that as an excuse for why he doesn’t say anything else.
“I’ll visit you,” Natasha says. “It’s probably easier for me to come to you than it is for you to come to New York, huh?”
“Probably,” Clint acknowledges. He doesn’t have the money to get to New York, and probably won’t for a long time, though he doesn’t want to tell her that.
“Do you want me to?” she probes, and the intensity of her stare is such that Clint can’t meet her eyes.
“Of course I do.”
“Why can’t you look at me, then?”
Clint puts his fork down and rubs the back of his neck. “I do want to see you again,” he says honestly, meeting her gaze. “I just... I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”
For a second Natasha’s eyes flare like they do when she’s mad, but then they soften. “I know you might not know this about me yet, but I keep my promises,” she says. “You’ll see me before Christmas.”
Clint nods and swallows, his throat feeling tight. To defuse the intensity of the moment, he points at her last pancake. “Are you going to eat that?”
“Touch it and die, Barton.”
//\\
Natasha’s foster father is a tall black man. With a freaking eye patch. He is easily the scariest man Clint’s ever met, and he was already preparing to be intimidated. Now he realizes he would have been lucky to meet the vague apparition he’d been fearing, the one who bore a striking resemblance to Dirty Harry crossed with Al Capone crossed with Vin Diesel, rather than the real Nick Fury.
Clint swallows his apprehension and approaches Natasha’s foster father. He barely notices that Natasha has glued herself to his side, and only realizes when he tries to raise his hand to offer to the older man that he can’t because she’s got hold of his arm. So he just keeps them both at his sides.
“Hello, sir,” Clint says, and is glad that his voice doesn’t waver. He’s had enough experience meeting authority figures that he’s gotten pretty good at hiding his nervousness.
“Hello,” Nick Fury says. He doesn’t sound incredibly eager to make Clint’s acquaintance – he keeps looking at Natasha’s hands holding on to his arm – but he hasn’t killed him yet, either. “And who exactly are you?”
“This is Clint, Nick,” Natasha jumps in. “A friend I met at camp.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fury,” says Clint.
The older man grunts. “And how do you know Natasha? Were you in her martial arts class?”
“Uh, no, sir,” says Clint.
“He was taking guitar lessons,” says Natasha. “He’s really good, you should hear him play—”
“Can the boy not speak?” Nick Fury demands.
Natasha purses her lips in annoyance, but stops talking.
Clint fills the awkward silence with, “Uh... yeah, like Natasha said, I play the guitar, I’m all right at it I guess—”
“Killer! There he is, guys!” And suddenly he’s surrounded by Natasha’s brothers. Well, all except Steve, who, being a counselor, has to stay behind one more day and will drive back on his own. Clint wishes Steve were there, though. He might be able to prevent whatever’s going to happen next. In front of their foster father. This can’t be good.
Nick Fury has raised his eyebrow. “Killer?” he says silkily.
Clint’s gulp can probably be heard two counties over.
“Yeah Nick, you should’ve seen it. He totally saved us from, like, a demented boar,” says Tony. “It charged at us from out of nowhere, and this dude just picked up a bow and arrow and shot the thing. Right in the eyeball.” He pokes himself in the eye.
“Really.” Nick Fury is looking at him now as though he might potentially reconsider his first impression that Clint is a particularly nasty rodent he found lurking in his pantry. “You ever use a bow before, son?”
“A couple of times,” Clint says. “But really, it was no big deal, just a lucky shot—”
“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Tony says, slinging an arm around Clint as though they’re best buddies. “It was beautiful. Coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Right, guys?”
Thor and Bruce chime in their agreement, and now Clint’s waiting for the punchline. These guys have hated him for the better part of camp, and now they’re singing his praises to a man who could destroy his relationship with Natasha more effectively than any one of them could?
Natasha shoves Tony’s arm off Clint, and Clint can tell that she’s as suspicious as he is. “Stop it,” she says. “He’s my boyfriend, get your own.”
Clint gapes at her. Natasha blushes. He quickly looks at Nick Fury again, and now the older man’s wearing the same scowl from before. Clint’s heart sinks.
“Get in the car,” Nick Fury says, bending down to pick up Natasha’s suitcase. He’s clearly not moving until she does, so she gives Clint’s arm a squeeze, then reaches up to kiss him on the cheek.
“Bye,” she whispers in his ear.
Clint waves weakly as she gets into the front seat of the beige van that’s parked in front of them. He wants to continue waving to her until the van’s driven off, but her brothers have other ideas.
Tony steps in front of him, while Thor and Bruce stand on either side. “Look,” Tony says. “We didn’t like you at first, but there are certain things you go through with people that makes you friends for life, whether you like it or not. Helping us kill a crazy pig using a badass shot to the eye socket is one of them. That’s why we’re going to let you be Natasha’s boyfriend.”
“Thanks?” says Clint. “Don’t think it’s really up to you, though. Or me.”
“Don’t be dense,” says Thor. “Of course it’s up to us.”
“Do you know how many guys sniff around Natasha in New York?” Bruce asks.
Clint’s never really thought about it, but he can imagine it’s more than he’d like.
“Don’t think so hard, it was a rhetorical question,” Tony says. “The point is, we’ll take care of anyone who comes around.”
“Look,” Clint says. “I appreciate that. I really do. But I don’t want Natasha to be with me because she’s coerced to be—”
“Listen to you, coerced, busting out the SAT words,” says Tony. “I get it. You’re all noble and stupid and what not. But there’s no harm in removing temptation, am I right? Of course I am.”
“He’s always right,” Bruce says, sounding part admiring, part disgusted.
“So we’ll watch out for you, buddy. All you have to do is stay faithful and don’t break her heart. Can you manage that?”
“Of course I’m not going to cheat on her—” Clint begins indignantly.
“Glad to hear it,” says Thor.
“Yes,” says Tony. “Because while we’re friends for life, it would mean that we’d have to rearrange your insides and that could really strain our friendship.”
“Okay, I get it,” Clint says. “Can you leave now?”
“Oh stop it, I’m getting all choked up,” says Tony.
“Boys,” Nick Fury barks. “Get inside, we’re leaving.”
Tony, Thor and Bruce shove their things in the trunk, then pile into the van. Clint watches as it pulls away, Natasha waving from the front seat, Tony making a “call me” gesture from the back.
Author:
sarea_okelaniRating: PG-13, for teenagers getting up to what teenagers get up to
Pairings: Clint/Natasha, Tony/Pepper, Thor/Jane, minor Clint/Bobbi and Phil/Cellist, Clint & Coulson, Clint & Tony
Summary: At summer camp, Clint’s met the girl of his dreams. Then he meets her four brothers.
If you missed them: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
//\\
On the last day of camp Clint wakes an hour before the rest of his cabin, despite having gotten in later. Only Phil had still been awake when Clint had finally gotten back, to reassure him that none of the counselors had done a check in.
Clint had still been basking in the euphoria of everything he and Natasha had done, so he was happy to listen to Phil go on and on about how fantastic the dance had been and how he thought he might’ve gotten to second base by accident with the cellist. When he took a long enough breath to ask Clint how his night had gone, Clint was noncommittal. He was bursting to tell someone, to share his happiness, and he knew he could trust Phil, but somehow it just felt too private.
If it’d been up to Clint, he and Natasha would have remained in that attic for the rest of known time.
Last night it had seemed as though time stretched, that if only they stayed together, it could somehow go on forever in the exact same moment. It was an illusion that couldn’t last. Now Clint can see the streaks of color that are just starting to appear in the early-morning gray, and in a few hours he’ll be saying goodbye to Natasha, and he’s not stupid, he knows how this works; they’ll say they’ll keep in touch, that it’s not really goodbye. He’s been through it once or twice before, with a foster sibling, or a rare friend from one of the schools he’s attended. A lasting relationship never happens. It’s hard to stay in touch when lives move in different directions, and when Clint literally moves from place to place. He’s not a great letter writer, never has been. He’ll try for Natasha, of course he will, but soon school will start and she’ll be with her friends and meeting new people, and Clint will fade in her memory, and if he’s lucky she’ll remember him as the boy she hooked up with at summer camp that one time.
When everyone is up and about except him, Clint can’t avoid the inevitable any longer. He dresses and packs his meager few belongings, leaving his suitcase on the bed as they all troop to the dining hall for one last meal.
Natasha’s waiting for him outside. Clint’s heart speeds up. She looks, in the early morning light, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her, even though she has to be as tired as he is. His cabin mates all give Clint sidelong glances, though mercifully don’t say anything.
“Hey,” Clint greets with a smile, and they both automatically fall back behind the others.
“Hi,” Natasha says, and takes hold of his hand with hers.
Clint shoots her a surprised look. They have been extremely discreet in public about their relationship, but apparently that’s over now.
“Just let Tony say something,” she says. “I dare him to.”
Clint’s almost looking forward to the altercation, but Thor and Steve are the only ones who are in the dining hall, which has transformed into its usual appearance once more. It doesn’t take a genius to surmise the reason behind Tony and Bruce’s absence.
“Hangover,” Natasha says succinctly. “Serves them right.” Then a slightly evil glint gets into her eyes. “Hey, do you think we can get into the band room? Maybe borrow a snare drum?”
“I’m pretty sure all that equipment’s being loaded onto a truck as we speak,” Clint laughs.
“Too bad,” Natasha sighs.
They go through the serving line, getting their trays loaded with scrambled eggs, sausage, and pancakes. Clint’s glad he didn’t get pulled for KP duty on the last day of camp – the sleepy campers serving this morning look dead on their feet. Clint and Natasha find a two-person table away from everyone else, even though it’s quiet this morning. There’s hardly anyone there. The clink of silverware on plates is the loudest sound in the room.
Natasha watches as Clint slathers butter onto his pancakes, then pours over an obscene amount of syrup. He’s just taken a huge bite when she says, “You’re going to call me, right?”
“Yeah,” Clint says with his mouth full. He’s glad to have that as an excuse for why he doesn’t say anything else.
“I’ll visit you,” Natasha says. “It’s probably easier for me to come to you than it is for you to come to New York, huh?”
“Probably,” Clint acknowledges. He doesn’t have the money to get to New York, and probably won’t for a long time, though he doesn’t want to tell her that.
“Do you want me to?” she probes, and the intensity of her stare is such that Clint can’t meet her eyes.
“Of course I do.”
“Why can’t you look at me, then?”
Clint puts his fork down and rubs the back of his neck. “I do want to see you again,” he says honestly, meeting her gaze. “I just... I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”
For a second Natasha’s eyes flare like they do when she’s mad, but then they soften. “I know you might not know this about me yet, but I keep my promises,” she says. “You’ll see me before Christmas.”
Clint nods and swallows, his throat feeling tight. To defuse the intensity of the moment, he points at her last pancake. “Are you going to eat that?”
“Touch it and die, Barton.”
//\\
Natasha’s foster father is a tall black man. With a freaking eye patch. He is easily the scariest man Clint’s ever met, and he was already preparing to be intimidated. Now he realizes he would have been lucky to meet the vague apparition he’d been fearing, the one who bore a striking resemblance to Dirty Harry crossed with Al Capone crossed with Vin Diesel, rather than the real Nick Fury.
Clint swallows his apprehension and approaches Natasha’s foster father. He barely notices that Natasha has glued herself to his side, and only realizes when he tries to raise his hand to offer to the older man that he can’t because she’s got hold of his arm. So he just keeps them both at his sides.
“Hello, sir,” Clint says, and is glad that his voice doesn’t waver. He’s had enough experience meeting authority figures that he’s gotten pretty good at hiding his nervousness.
“Hello,” Nick Fury says. He doesn’t sound incredibly eager to make Clint’s acquaintance – he keeps looking at Natasha’s hands holding on to his arm – but he hasn’t killed him yet, either. “And who exactly are you?”
“This is Clint, Nick,” Natasha jumps in. “A friend I met at camp.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fury,” says Clint.
The older man grunts. “And how do you know Natasha? Were you in her martial arts class?”
“Uh, no, sir,” says Clint.
“He was taking guitar lessons,” says Natasha. “He’s really good, you should hear him play—”
“Can the boy not speak?” Nick Fury demands.
Natasha purses her lips in annoyance, but stops talking.
Clint fills the awkward silence with, “Uh... yeah, like Natasha said, I play the guitar, I’m all right at it I guess—”
“Killer! There he is, guys!” And suddenly he’s surrounded by Natasha’s brothers. Well, all except Steve, who, being a counselor, has to stay behind one more day and will drive back on his own. Clint wishes Steve were there, though. He might be able to prevent whatever’s going to happen next. In front of their foster father. This can’t be good.
Nick Fury has raised his eyebrow. “Killer?” he says silkily.
Clint’s gulp can probably be heard two counties over.
“Yeah Nick, you should’ve seen it. He totally saved us from, like, a demented boar,” says Tony. “It charged at us from out of nowhere, and this dude just picked up a bow and arrow and shot the thing. Right in the eyeball.” He pokes himself in the eye.
“Really.” Nick Fury is looking at him now as though he might potentially reconsider his first impression that Clint is a particularly nasty rodent he found lurking in his pantry. “You ever use a bow before, son?”
“A couple of times,” Clint says. “But really, it was no big deal, just a lucky shot—”
“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Tony says, slinging an arm around Clint as though they’re best buddies. “It was beautiful. Coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Right, guys?”
Thor and Bruce chime in their agreement, and now Clint’s waiting for the punchline. These guys have hated him for the better part of camp, and now they’re singing his praises to a man who could destroy his relationship with Natasha more effectively than any one of them could?
Natasha shoves Tony’s arm off Clint, and Clint can tell that she’s as suspicious as he is. “Stop it,” she says. “He’s my boyfriend, get your own.”
Clint gapes at her. Natasha blushes. He quickly looks at Nick Fury again, and now the older man’s wearing the same scowl from before. Clint’s heart sinks.
“Get in the car,” Nick Fury says, bending down to pick up Natasha’s suitcase. He’s clearly not moving until she does, so she gives Clint’s arm a squeeze, then reaches up to kiss him on the cheek.
“Bye,” she whispers in his ear.
Clint waves weakly as she gets into the front seat of the beige van that’s parked in front of them. He wants to continue waving to her until the van’s driven off, but her brothers have other ideas.
Tony steps in front of him, while Thor and Bruce stand on either side. “Look,” Tony says. “We didn’t like you at first, but there are certain things you go through with people that makes you friends for life, whether you like it or not. Helping us kill a crazy pig using a badass shot to the eye socket is one of them. That’s why we’re going to let you be Natasha’s boyfriend.”
“Thanks?” says Clint. “Don’t think it’s really up to you, though. Or me.”
“Don’t be dense,” says Thor. “Of course it’s up to us.”
“Do you know how many guys sniff around Natasha in New York?” Bruce asks.
Clint’s never really thought about it, but he can imagine it’s more than he’d like.
“Don’t think so hard, it was a rhetorical question,” Tony says. “The point is, we’ll take care of anyone who comes around.”
“Look,” Clint says. “I appreciate that. I really do. But I don’t want Natasha to be with me because she’s coerced to be—”
“Listen to you, coerced, busting out the SAT words,” says Tony. “I get it. You’re all noble and stupid and what not. But there’s no harm in removing temptation, am I right? Of course I am.”
“He’s always right,” Bruce says, sounding part admiring, part disgusted.
“So we’ll watch out for you, buddy. All you have to do is stay faithful and don’t break her heart. Can you manage that?”
“Of course I’m not going to cheat on her—” Clint begins indignantly.
“Glad to hear it,” says Thor.
“Yes,” says Tony. “Because while we’re friends for life, it would mean that we’d have to rearrange your insides and that could really strain our friendship.”
“Okay, I get it,” Clint says. “Can you leave now?”
“Oh stop it, I’m getting all choked up,” says Tony.
“Boys,” Nick Fury barks. “Get inside, we’re leaving.”
Tony, Thor and Bruce shove their things in the trunk, then pile into the van. Clint watches as it pulls away, Natasha waving from the front seat, Tony making a “call me” gesture from the back.
