Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I'm just playing here
Fandom(s): Avengers (MCU), BtVS
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Andrew Wells, (mention of Faith Lehane) - Clint/Natasha
Notes: So yesterday was a Super Moon, something we don't get very often and with this one being so close to the Summer Solstice I wanted to play with the idea of something big being unleashed. And then I heard Van Morrison's Moondance on the radio, a song which has been in my head as a ClinTasha track for months and it was like... something big was unleashed. This story is part of a nascent fic series I'm currently fanning the flames on and hope to have more of really soon. Premise of the series? Faith and Clint encountered each other when they were both living on the streets and continue to look out for each other.
Stonehenge, Wiltshire, England. 23rd June 2013
It was colder that she'd expected it to be - it was June after all, wasn't that supposed to be summertime? But, she sighed, at least it wasn't raining. She'd always known that particular myth was false but it was always nice to be proven right: it didn't always rain in the UNK.
Although... she glanced at the sky warily, those clouds did look more than a little threatening. She sighed. They'd had to leave their transport back on the hard shoulder of the interstate - no, motorway, that's what they called it here - and although it wasn't far (much closer than she would have thought, really) it was far enough for them to be soaked to the skin if the heavens opened.
She smirked a little, if the heavens opened. That was just what they were supposed to be here to prevent, apparently. A year ago she would have scoffed and dismissed the whole thing as worthless superstition, but...
"This is like nothing we were ever trained for..."
Turned out SHIELD training could catch up pretty damn quick when it needed to. Gods and monsters and aliens... hell, there was even talk of a special division dealing with that kind of thing - a kind of non-fiction X Files. Part of her wondered why they weren't currently in danger of being rained on in the corner of a field in Wiltshire when there was no chance of any other kind of danger. They'd been here for a week and the only thing that happened was a few drunken revellers trying to break through the police cordon so they could get to the stones on the Solstice two days ago. And as for tonight?
"Where did this tip come from anyway?" She said, apparently to herself.
"Friend of a friend," came the reply from somewhere around twelve foot above her.
"You don't have friends, Barton," she said with a tiny smile. "And get down from there; ancient monuments are not jungle gyms."
He dropped down from his perch with a grace and lightness that had long since ceased to surprise her. "I have some," he said.
"Who?" she asked.
"Well," he stopped to think. "You. And... others."
She was about to make a sarcastic comment but the fleeting pain in his eyes stopped her. It had been hard for him since Loki, she knew that, no one blamed him as such, but everyone was wary around him. Watching for that flash of solid blue to replace the normal stormy sea colour in his eyes. Waiting for him to turn on them again.
He'd been characteristically stoical about it all - pretending not to notice the flinches, the agents who turned and walked the other way when they saw him coming (and the ones who had flat out refused to be assigned to the same op as him). It was only because she knew him so well that could see how deeply each of those slights cut him. How hurt he was. How lost.
"This friend of yours with the oh-so-helpful tips, they ever let you down before?" she asked, forcing herself to focus on the task in hand.
"Faith? Ha!" his laugh was genuine and she smiled to see the crinkles around his eyes - it had been far too long. "She wouldn't know how to. No, she's in with some kinda organisation that specializes in this kinda thing." Natasha raised an eyebrow at that and he elaborated by throwing her own words back at her, "Gods and monsters. All that shit we were never trained for. No, something's supposed to go down tonight. A Super Moon this close to the Summer Solstice? Seems like there's all sorts of freaks that'll take advantage of that to do something nasty." His smile turned to a frown as he looked around at the vast acres of nothingness surrounding them. "Just... maybe not here."
Natasha nudged his shoulder with her own, "She didn't exactly give you GPS coordinates though, right?"
Clint shook his head a little distractedly before turning to look at her. "No, guess not. Just something about a 'sacred site'. Figured Stonehenge would be the obvious one so..."
"Looks like nothing's happening though, and it's gone nine thirty now. Well past moonrise." She looked up at the sky again, "Not that you'd know from looking."
Almost as if the weather was trying to spite her, the clouds parted and the sheer size of the hanging moon overhead took her breath away. It sparked something primal in her, she could almost feel the blood in her veins coursing as her body responded to the ancient lunar call, making her feel something other than human...
"Guess that's why they call it a Super Moon, huh?" Clint said, bringing her crashing back down to reality.
She swatted him with her hand and smiled softly as he caught it gently and brought it gently up to place a gentle kiss over the knuckles.
"M'lady, may I request the pleasure of this dance?"
Her eyebrow quirked again and he shrugged lightly. "You're right, nothing's going to happen now."
"And that warrants dancing? In the mud. With no music."
"Tasha..." he smiled and pulled her to him by the hand he was still holding gently. "Have you got a better offer?"
She grinned up at him and shook her head, feeling a little ridiculous as he twirled her around at first but gradually finding the rhythm and moving in synch with her partner as they danced beneath the stones. Moving in harmony, just like always.
Ring Of Brodgan, Orkney. 23rd June 2013
The moss around the stones was scorched and the only trace of the crofter who had come to investigate the strange lights and sounds was one smoking boot. The rites were over, and his Master finally free in the world to wreak havoc. The Rogue Slayer had almost ruined it but he had been able to distract her, refocus her attention, send her to the tourist trap - oh, Stonehenge still had power, there was no doubt about that, but it wasn't the only focal point. Not even the strongest.
A gust of wind whipped the papers from his hands and almost knocked him over. Andrew Wells (Tucker's brother) swore under his breath and thought that at least it had to be warmer than this forsaken island. He turned to leave and... was that sheep shit? Fuck! Why did this always happen to him?! His new Rockports were ruined!