( closed )

[araneidal]

Who: Natasha Romanoff & John Blake.
Where: The garden.
When: 7/3.
Rating: PG; warnings will be added where needed.
Summary: A walk in the park.

Comments

[araneidal]

How do you know I'm not thinking of having you for lunch?

[ She links arms with him: probably another warning sign, but truthfully, once in a while, it's a good choice. She doesn't really have to question who to be in front of John. There's truth, and truth the people who care about you know without saying. It's freeing. ]

[oversight]

[ Falling into line with her, he nods his head in appreciation, amused by some degree at the implication. ]

Didn't bring a napkin. Or silverware.

[ Both could be easily concealed (and much more akin to a tarp and a knife), but considering he has no issues with Natasha, he's not worried. And really, even if he is, what's he going to do about it? She outclasses him ten to one. ]

So then what are you thinkin'?

[araneidal]

[ She mimes holding a toothpick; her amusement is in her eyes rather than the curve of her mouth. Finger food. ]

I'm thinking about new beginnings.

[oversight]

[ She thinks finger food, but he's actually quite a mouthful and unpleasant to chew. Like a cactus, probably. ]

They're... difficult. Mileage my vary.

[ But he thinks he knows why she's bringing it up. ]

[araneidal]

Slow and steady, or fast enough to punch holes through the walls?

[oversight]

Think it depends on the day.

[araneidal]

What does today feel like?

​​[ She presses her fingers lightly to his arm, turning a corner. ]

[oversight]

[ He follows her lead unquestioningly. No reason not to. ]

Somewhere in the middle, prob'ly.

[araneidal]

​[ Quietly, ]

You can talk to me, you know.

[oversight]

I...

[ He falters, eyebrows drawing together. There's something of an internal struggle here, but eventually John lets out a sigh. ]

I know. Just not very good at that kinda stuff.

[ In every case, 100% of the time, he prefers not to let discussions circle back around to him. ]

[araneidal]

​​[ She could get it out of him. She considers that, for a second, but ultimately that isn't something Natasha engages in anymore. ]

You can make a club.

​​[ She rests her other hand on his arm, briefly. ]

You know, I never did find out what your favourite food was.

[oversight]

[ A smirk settles on his features. He can't help but feel pretty lucky that both Natashas are quality individuals that could kick his ass but don't (even when she probably should). ]

Waffles. Hands down.

[araneidal]

Waffles.

[ She injects just enough incredulity. ]

That's incurably American. Do you have strawberries with them, too? And syrup?

[oversight]

[ He ain't bothered. ]

Mmhm. Whipped cream, too. With a good cup of coffee. Right at the end of a shift.

[ There are days he can't help but miss the life he lived before he took on the mantle. A quiet, simple, but purposeful life. Some days he'd even fall asleep with a book in his hand when there was time for that sort of thing. ]

Got a place for it back home. You'd like it.

[araneidal]

[ A quiet, simple life. There's a part of her that follows the trajectory and tries to imagine John as someone who does quiet. He's grounded, true, but there's something of adventure in him. She doesn't think he'd've lasted long in Wonderland if he wasn't ready to face it. ]

You'll give me a craving. Cream's not good for my figure.

[oversight]

We can work it off. There's no problem there.

[araneidal]

Oh?

[ A brief, playful slant to her mouth. There's a lot of ways to work off something, care to dig yourself a grave, John? ]

[oversight]

[ He comes self-equipped with a trench tool, thank you very much. ]

Oh yes. Not the least bit worried 'bout that. Your figure's safe with me.

[araneidal]

Waffles.

[ She rolls her eyes a little. Like it's still a joke. ]

Shall we have some after this? Or try something new?

[oversight]

Definitely waffles.

[ A big smile. This helps. It makes him feel alive, like a person. There haven't been as many opportunities for that lately. ]

I'll buy.

[araneidal]

[ All strikes with her hit their mark. Natasha knows kindness, and she knows that sometimes from her, it's true. ]

As you said, my figure is safe with you. I'll know who to come after if you're wrong.

[oversight]

Not wrong. Never wrong. [ What a load of bull. ]

How're you doin'? You been holdin' it together? [ And then a smirk. ] Can't imagine you not holdin' it together, but... [ He shrugs. ] Feel better askin', though. Knowin' what I know, an' all. An' what I don't.

[araneidal]

I'm all right.

[ She is always all right. Funny, how he knows that, and he knows to ask. ]

It's a little unsettling, I'll be honest. Thank you for asking.

[oversight]

Shit, yeah. Can't even—

[ A shake of his head. Blake would go a little crazy, he thinks. It's a bit different from meeting a Mirror, at least from what he can tell. ]

Look, just goes to show you there's no such thing as too much of a good thing.

[araneidal]

[ Natasha's not startled into an abrupt smile, it's a near thing. ]

Is that how you see it?

[oversight]

Definitely.

[ He's certain. Because Blake might do a remarkable job of being just a generally normal guy, but beneath all of that is a strange devotion that doesn't always come with defined borders. ]

Is that not how you see it?

[araneidal]

[ It's devotion, which he is properly careful not to turn into worship. Natasha doesn't value the latter. The Black Widow can twist anyone to her whims, one more lovestruck man doesn't become special in her heart unless he knows where the line is. ]

If you had the chance to meet yourself as a boy, what would you do?

[oversight]

[ Blake snorts in a somewhat undignified manner, baffled at the question in an unexpected way. Hell, he's almost delighted by it, although he has a hard time pinpointing why. ]

What would I do? Ahhh... Guess maybe I'd tell him to get good at baseball. That pays the bills.

[araneidal]

John.

[ She elbows him. It's a light reprimand, but it's done the trick, her mouth has pulled up in a smile but that's not really what she asked. ]

[oversight]

[ Is it his fault he's pedantic? Yes, absolutely, but that's really not the point. ]

What could I do? Not that diff'rent, not really. [ He thinks he's not really that different, but it's not the truth. ] Counsel, maybe.

[araneidal]

About baseball.

[ It's only funny now. ]

She's a different person than I was.

[ Natasha is much, much older, and the threads are woven in two different directions. Yes, they both are the Widow, and she sees echoes of shadows that could be hers, but for someone like her they might as well be miles apart. ]

[oversight]

[ He smirks. Cheeky. ]

And you're surprised? They broke the mould.

[araneidal]

[ Natasha reflects it. ]

Oh, someone's pouring it on. Any special reason?

[oversight]

Is it your birthday?

[ And then one of those characteristic shrugs. ]

When you're 'round, I feel good. Think that means you're my friend. Dunno. It's weird, right?

[araneidal]

No.

[ Once upon a time, the answer might've been it could be. ]

Pretty weird.

[ She smiles warmly at him. ]

You think you'd be up for waffles with her, sometime?

[oversight]

I'm always up for waffles. Anywhere, anywhen, with anyone.

[araneidal]

It's a date, then.