Work Text:
“Christ - not again” Clint groaned, having the decency to at least pretend that he had intended to get to sleep at a reasonable hour today. He was three seasons in to a marathon of Dog Cops and turned to check his phone as episode 8 began. 3:14am.
Clint flicked on the bedside lamp and looked over the room suspiciously. It was still – too still.
That was when he noticed that Lucky wasn’t in the room with him. Surveying the figurative bombsite of his bedroom, Clint sighed and grabbed for one of his hearing aids off the bedside table while pausing the TV with the remote in his other hand. Following an exaggerated – and lopsided - somersault off the bed, he toed at some of the discarded clothes forming piles around the room.
“Lucky?” Clint called, fitting and switching on the hearing aid. He padded out to the living room and gave the area a broad sweeping look, before turning to the door leading to the backyard. Clint stilled as he reached the doorway, seeing that the door was slightly ajar. He was sure he had locked it earlier. Looking out into the yard, Clint opened the sliding door and stepped into the yard to find Lucky and -.
“What the fuck?” Clint called. Staring back at him from the yard was a lean, red-headed woman wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt. Clint flicked on the light switch that illuminated the yard. The Stranger was kneeling over his dog, who was apparently having the time of his life, lying on his back to get tummy rubs from the stranger. Now illuminated by the light and caught in the act the Stranger seemed to freeze, watching Clint watch her.
“What the fuck?” He repeated, “What are you doing?” Clint walked through the doorway to walk towards the scene. The Stranger stood slowly, stumbling a little, and Clint noticed the distinct smell of vodka he walked closer and stood on the other side of Lucky.
“собака.” The Stranger slurred, looking vaguely uncomfortable and moving to sit back onto her knees. But she managed to maintain eye contact, which he counted as a win. At least she’s not passed out in my yard, he thought. Cops get suspicious after the second time.
“Slo-what?” Clint asked, and then “Wait, did you pick my lock?”
The stranger smiled and swayed slightly to the side. Clint watched Lucky stand and sniff at the stranger happily. Clint felt vaguely betrayed. Here was Lucky, running off into the night to find another human to provide pats for him. Wasn’t I good enough? Clint thought. Some guard dog he turned out to be. Lucky didn’t notice his annoyance in the slightest, however, and wagged his tail looking up at the Stranger. She broke eye-contact with Clint to look back down at Lucky, a small smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. Traitor, Clint thinks.
“Do you, uh, need something? Because I might just take my dog ba-” Clint was interrupted by the sudden turn of the Stranger running over to the garden bed, or patch of dead plants and a tree to be more accurate, and threw up the entire contents of her stomach.
“Aw, vomit.” Clint groaned quietly. Lucky laid on his feet while they awkwardly waited for the Stranger to finish, Clint fixing Lucky with a squinted stare, as if to say look who came crawling back and what have you gotten us into and I love you all at once. Lucky returned the stare and wagged his tail slowly in response.
After a few minutes of kneeling in the garden the Stranger rose up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and walking shakily back towards Clint. Resigned, Clint turned to walk back inside.
“Come on, you can crash on the couch for a few hours” he called. The stranger mumbled something behind him. “What was that?” Clint asked, turning to look at the Stranger and indicating towards his left ear, the one currently sporting a hearing aid. “I only put one in, because it’s the middle of the night and everything.” The stranger nodded quickly and fumbled to awkwardly sign in return: I’m sick. I’ll leave. Home. Clint smiled at the effort and turned to continue into his house.
“It’s fine, the couch is okay. There’s not much around to steal anyway.” The Stranger followed him over to the couch and sat down while Clint retrieved a blanket and pillow from the hall closet, calling out directions to the bathroom and kitchen as he went.
“I’m not here to steal. But if you even think about touching me you’ll have two broken legs and a concussion before you can even say goodnight though, got it?” She called back. Well, slurred. Slurred with enthusiasm. Clint leaned back into view and gave a mock salute in return. When he returned with some (probably) acceptable bedding, he dropped it on the couch next to the Stranger.
“What’s your name?” Clint asked.
“Natasha.”
“Clint. Let me get you a glass of water before bed, you’re gonna have a monster headache tomorrow.” It took Clint and embarrassingly long amount of time to find a clean, unchipped glass in his kitchen. He finally resorted to washing one of the dirty glasses littering the kitchen bench, and by the time he returned he found the Stranger, Natasha, asleep spread out on the couch, with one leg balanced along the top of the backrest and one arm draping onto the floor. Right, he thought as he placed the glass on the coffee table nearby. How do these things happen to me. That thought was punctuated by a suspicious glance at Lucky, who followed happily at his feet as Clint returned to the back door to lock it again. He returned to his bedroom and shut off the TV, with Lucky taking his usual spot on the bottom of the bed near Clint’s feet.
“You’re lucky I love you.” He whispered as took out his hearing aid and nudged at the dog with his feet. “Get it? You’re Lucky…”
------
Clint woke to Lucky jumping on the bed and standing on his back. When he made no movement the dog began to dig at his back, making Clint glad that he was wearing a t-shirt. Finally, he rolled over and looked at the time on his phone. The numbers 9:30 glared back at him.
“Aw, AM.” He said before burying his face back into the pillow. Lucky seemed to take this as a challenge and began to nudge and lick at the side of Clint’s face until he finally let-up and sat up in bed. “You’re a monster.” Clint told him as he scratched at the dog’s ears. Lucky didn’t have time for this though, apparently, as he bounded off the bed to sit in front of the bedroom door and turn back to look at Clint. “Loud and clear.” Clint told him as he opened the door and allowed Lucky run into the house to find their accidental guest.
Clint remained sitting on the bed for a few minutes, securing his hearing aids and staring into space, wondering what he’s going to find the next room and if he’s better off living in denial for a while longer. Finally he got the energy to stand up from his bed and throw on some pants that were on the floor, before putting in both hearing aids and leaving his room.
As he moved closer to the adjacent kitchen he awakened to the comforting smell of coffee. Thank God, he thought, life is good after all. Moving straight towards the pot (fresh, he rejoiced) he grabbed the handle and brought the whole pot to his lips, sucking down two big mouthfuls before turning to meet eyes with Natasha. This time he froze to watch her looking back at him, a mug of coffee in one hand and a raised eyebrow. She looked more composed than last night, though that wouldn’t be hard, Clint reasoned. She had taken off the sweatshirt to reveal a black tank top, and taken off her shoes and socks to stand barefoot on the other side of the kitchen. Her toenails had chipped pink glitter polish on them.
“G’morning” he mumbled and moved to sit at the dining table. Natasha followed him and sat at a the adjacent seat.
“So… number one Dad, huh?” She asked, gesturing at her coffee cup.
“Uh, a gag gift,” Clint replied, scratching at the back of his neck. “From a friend - a work friend.” He’s lying of course, Lucky gave him that mug for his first Father’s Day and he loved it. She better not break it. Natasha seemed to sense his lie, smiling into her coffee. They sat in silence for a few minutes drinking their respective coffees. Finally Clint sighed.
“You gonna tell me why you were in my yard patting my dog at 3am?” He put his coffee down and looked at Natasha. She followed his actions.
“I had a night out with some friends last night and was bored when I got back. I’m staying a few houses down… I don’t have a pet.” She continued looking into her coffee as she spoke. Despite himself, Clint felt a smile working its way onto his face. The longer he had Lucky the more he understood that strays always find each other. He patted the dog with his foot from where he sat under the table.
“You staying with family or something?” He asked.
“No. I moved in.” She looked up at Clint. He raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, you live here now?” He caught the slight cringe that passed over Natasha’s features at the words. One of us, he determined.
“For now.”
“Well feel free to come see Lucky whenever. I got a friend who helps out looking after him and she’s around practically all the time too so I don’t mind. Just let me know that you’re here next time, yeah?” Natasha smiled at Clint, nodded once.
“Yeah.”