bakerstreet | The Domestic Meme

The Domestic Meme

RULES!
❧ Leave a comment with your character's name, fandom, and any preferences you have.
❧ When replying, RNG for a number between 1 and 15. The number corresponds to the scenario that you will play out in whatever way you want to.
❧ Go from there!

THE LIST!
01] baby
Suddenly, there's a new addition to your family! Are you expecting? Adopting? Struggling to find the perfect name for your child? Or maybe you're up at a ridiculous hour in the morning because they're crying like crazy.

02] just married
Congratulations! You and your loved (?) one are about to start a whole new life together! It's time for the honeymoon...

03] house hunting
Are you seeking out an apartment? A dream house? Or just any old place, as long as you're with your other? Make sure to weigh your options very carefully...

04] household chores
It's time to clean/cook/garden/take care of something! Do you work together, or does one of you hide until everything is done?

05] shopping
Whether it's for furniture, groceries, or something in between, shopping is something that everybody must do at some point in time! What varies is if they like it or not.

06] family vacation
WE'RE OFF TO DIDNEY WOOOOOOOOORL or wherever
... well, as long as the kids are happy, right...? You may not be happy (or maybe you are), but it's mainly about ~family bonding~.

07] romantic retreat
It's you and your loved one's anniversary, and you decide it's time to take some time off and take them somewhere nice, where you only have each other.

08] comfort
Is somebody sick in bed? Or perhaps they just had a bad day? Sometimes, a good breakfast in bed or a home-cooked meal can really lift the spirits! Or perhaps you want to try medicine, or laughter, or something else?

09] pet
Suddenly, you have another addition to the family! Is it a puppy? A kitty? A fierce dragon? Whatever it is, make sure to give it a name and to take good care of it!

10] holiday
Happy birthday/New Years/Christmas/Valentine's Day/whatever! It's a very special day that only comes once a year, so make it count!

11] argument
Oh, no, who left the stove on... Or maybe it's about why they were out late last night? Either way, there is a lot of tension today, and one of you may or may not be sleeping on the couch tonight.

12] making up
It's time to make amends for that fight/divorce/whatever you had before! After all, you love each other... right?

13] surprise, surprise
You are feeling rather loving tonight, so you want to remind the other person how much you cherish and appreciate them... if it's by something cute and adorable or hot and sexy is completely up to you.

14] proposal
~~SHUT UP THIS TOTALLY FITS~~ You've been with your other for what feels like forever, and finally you want to tie the knot with them. Will you go down on one knee before them, or get a little creative?

15] other
I know I'm forgetting like a bajillion and one different things here, so this is the option for that!

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Clint kept shooting her sideways glances, waiting for the reaction because jesus he couldn't even resist onions and their mystical tear inducing power.

He smiled lightly at her sniffed, moving to wash his hands against and to prepare the rest of the dish. That was until he got sidetracked, watching her for a moment. Clint only saw her cry twice before, once when she was still healing and once after a firefight when the debris was still settling. Both times had unnerved him and even now, watching her he felt like he was intruding even though it was stupid to feel that way. Over onions. For christ sake.

"You want me to take over? I won't tell anyone.." Yeah the amusement was lost, not that it was ever there for more than a fleeting second.

"Black Widows aren't meant to cry, not over onions anyway."

Natasha shot Clint a look at his offer, her eyes glassy. “I’m not crying, my eyes are merely watering because of the fumes,” she said, turning her attention back to the onions. Unlike Clint she didn’t remember the last time she had cried. Crying was an indulgence that had not been allowed in the Red Room, and even when they had taken her childhood love from her she had not shed a tear, just silently raged. Alexei, though... her husband she had cried for, or perhaps it had been for herself being made a widow at seventeen. Since then there had been a few moments, as her memories had come back, when everything had been too much, but she tried to keep them private, determined to show no weakness to the outside world.

“You are supposed to be taking care of the chicken so it doesn’t get poisoned, remember?” Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just about showing no weakness; there was a healthy dose of stubbornness in there as well.

"Okay, well you can't say I didn't offer." He shrugged, took it in his stride and continued with his own task until the majority of it was prepped and ready for the oven, causing him to turn his attention to the baking supplies they'd picked up.

"I won't tell anyone that your eyes watered from the onion fumes." If she was to look over she'd catch his smirk as he went about reading the information on the back of packets, grabbing baking pans from cupboards and pondering what to make, not that there was much choice. Maybe just an old fashioned sponge cake with too much sticky sweet filling... there was sprinkles but maybe that was a touch too far.

"I'm not going for fancy, I doubt anyone will care much for the finesse."

While Clint prepared the main dish, Natasha finished the onions before mincing the garlic and peeling and chopping the tomatoes. Once they were ready she set it all aside to wait for the eggplant to finish baking. She took a little extra time washing her hands, not liking the way the tomatoes had stained them red; she had seen far too much red on her hands, but she pushed the thoughts away, unwilling to dwell on them, not tonight.

“Gee, thanks,” she said, looking over at Clint again as she dried her hands. “I would hate for them to think less of me for such a small slight.”

Hanging the towel over the oven handle, she grabbed a pair of oven mitts and opened the door, leaning in to turn the eggplants. They weren’t ready yet but they weren’t quite as firm as they had been when she’d first put them in. Shouldn’t take much longer to soften them up.

“I’m sure they will just be impressed we made anything at all,” she replied, straightening up again as she closed the door. “Though I suspect Tony will regard the entire thing with suspicion. He may expect to be poisoned.”

He laughed, shaking his head, opening the packets and reaching for the scales, he'd freelance it, but last time it wasn't quite as nice as doing it properly, and considering Natasha was making an effort Clint felt inclined to also make the effort.

"Maybe I'll actually tell them you made the whole thing, that way Tony won't have doubts about.." Yeah he veered off, reminding himself that Loki had been no joke, reminding himself that people were over it, so why it was still haunting the back of his mind he wasn't sure. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and those god damn nightmares. Whatever, nothing a bottle of wine, copious amounts of good food and promised quiet time with natasha wouldn't fix.

"Tony has two choices, he either eats it or he doesn't." He shrugged, reaching for the corkscrew only to pop open a bottle of the wine. "Grab some glasses, we need to toast the eggplants."

Just a little blip, nothing serious see? He was smiling, surrounding by baking products and the promise of food, nothing to see here folks, nothing at all. Just Clint being Clint.

When he trailed off Natasha was left momentarily confused. If anything she had been about to suggest the same thing only reversed, that they should say Clint had cooked it all as Tony was likely to be suspicious of anything she cooked. It clicked in a second later, though, and her expression went neutral to hide any emotional reaction she might have had. She knew Clint still had nightmares, she had been woken many a night when he had bolted upright in bed, sweat drenched with his heart hammering, but they didn’t really talk about how he felt about the whole thing. Did he really think the others mistrusted him because of what had happened?

Taking off the oven mitts she set them beside the stove and moved to get some glasses down from one of the upper cabinets. One of the bottles of wine was for them for later but there was still plenty for now and for dinner. Besides, even if they ran out she knew where Tony kept some stashed.

“I’m sure his stomach will eventually win out, I swear that man will eat anything,” she said, holding the glassed out to him. She didn’t speak on the subject he was clearly avoiding, but if he was looking for it there was a hint in her eyes, in how she looked at him, that offered him an ear should he want it. She wouldn’t push him, though, that wasn’t how they worked.

Just a slip, nothing more, but it still took a moment of him leaning heavily against the counter as he pushed it all away. He needed to deal with this better, needed to push it so far away that he forgot but it was hard. It was hard to forget what he was told, what happened. His mind racing to fill in the blanks of what actually happened. He still believed he was ultimately to blame, even though he knew somewhere it wasn't true.

Clint took the glasses carefully, setting them on the side and pouring them each a good measure of wine, holding her glass out. "To the eggplants, on their journey."

He drank, screw the toast, it was almost lip service. Draining the glass as he caught her look, and he understood everything in her gaze.

He didn't take the hint, that was for a different time and a different place although the glass of wine gave him the courage (not to mention the moment and her expression) to move slowly towards her. Screw everyone right? Clint was past caring as he lent slowly to kiss her. Surely Tony had better things to do than moniter the cameras and recorded feeds and even if he didn't Clint was honestly past caring.

"Thanks." That was it, that's all he offered other than the kiss, she'd get it because Natasha always got it. All his subtle hints, everything he did she understood because, well, he guessed it was because she was just amazing, but Clint would say that. Too far gone.

"I'm alright." He'd keep telling himself that until he believed it.

Natasha watched him closely as he went through the motions, taking the glass of wine when he offered it and only having a small sip as he downed the entire contents of his. Lowering her glass she held his gaze, her own widening so slightly it was almost imperceptible as he closed the distance between them. They had an understanding, they were to keep their relationship hidden from anyone who knew them, but something had clearly changed in Clint’s mind. She had been able to pass it off earlier as a little payback, but this was different.

She could have moved away, he gave her plenty of time to do so, but she was rooted in place by the look she had seen in his eyes, by the memories she knew were lurking just below the surface. So she let him kiss her if that was what he needed, and the desire to throw all the secrecy aside and see what happened rose up full force. Still, when he pulled back she merely nodded and said “any time,” which she meant whole heartedly. Any time he needed her, she didn’t care how, she would do everything in her power to be there.

Backing away to put distance between them, she took another sip of wine. She had heard those words before and knew it was a total lie, but she didn’t completely call him on it, nor did she accept it. “I know you will be,” she said instead. He wasn’t alright, she knew that, but she had been through something similar to what he had suffered and she knew he would be alright with time, just like she had been.

His face turned into the perfect smile, everything else pushed aside. For one she hadn't pushed him away, for two it was dawning on him that he's just kissed her in a common area. One they shared. That he'd made a step towards something they just didn't do, and that honestly? He couldn't help the way his stomach twisted and his mind raced.

"You wanna help me bake?" he asked, refilling his glass, intent on making this one last. It was good wine, then again since she'd chosen it he had no doubts. "This is a team effort right?"

Yeah Clint, any old excuse to just touch her and stand next to her and pretend that you were okay and that everything was normal.

Clint watched her, that smile faltering. She didn't believe him and she had every right to not believe him. The amount of times he'd woken her up, the amount of times he'd told her through micro expressions that he was not okay, he understood why she didn't believe him. But he didn't want to be broken, and he was trying, really trying and Natasha was the catalyst.

"Sorry, by the way" An apology about the kiss, maybe it was too much too soon, maybe he needed to re-evaluate what he was doing and start caring. Maybe she didn't want it. Too many questions and he was too scared to ask her, scared of the outcome, scared of what she'd say. Terrified he'd lose her.

He busied himself, setting his wine down, moving to the over to check on the eggplant again, anything to not look at her.

His stomach wasn’t the only one that twisted when she saw that perfect smile. It was relaxed, carefree, and happy, three of her favourite things when it came to him. “Of course. You did make the chicken, after all,” she said, smiling back at him, but she had already pulled away, already proved she didn’t believe him, already done the damage, and she watched his smile fade. It was like a punch in the gut, knowing that as quickly as she could cause that smile she could just as quickly take it away.

The apology she didn’t expect, though. While he did all he could to avoid looking at her for the next few minutes, Natasha followed his every movement with her eyes. He wasn’t the only one who was scared. The Black Widow wasn’t afraid of much. She threw herself into fights with no hesitation, gunfights were mere sport, but when it came to feelings and emotions... those were things she didn’t understand, things that she hadn’t let herself experience for so many years. Now, with Clint, she had been unable to avoid them. She had tried, but he had worked his way under her skin and into her heart; he had torn down all her walls and all her defenses, and when she had almost lost him to Loki she had realised just how far gone she truly was. The depth of her feelings for him were terrifying, and the idea of taking that next step, of openly acknowledging what they had... she didn’t know what to feel about that other than scared.

“It’s fine,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “The eggplant is probably ready to cool down.”

He did avoid looking at her. Didn't want to see that look in her eyes. He understood, in a second hand way, he understood as much as he could for a man who hadn't been fully let into her world yet he was there, willing to accept her and her flaws. People would call him stupid, her mates didn't tend to survive, Clint was an oppertunist though.

He nodded, he'd made things awkward and it hung in the air around them like a bad smell, although that could be the onions. He turned, carefully weighing out ingrediants, ignoring her prescence for the moment. He needed to sort it out, decide whether he she would be comfortable with people knowing about them. He was comfortable, staking his claim so to speak, if she let him.

He frowned at the flour, frowned at the sugar, poured a little too much in, too busy cocking a head over his shoulder to watch her. "You wanna throw the chicken in? I mean, main courses come first right?" It was too awkward, he hated it but he wasn't sure how to fix what he'd just done, he'd apologised, if she hadn't have wanted it he was sure her words would have held a sterner tone.

His hands reached for the icing, reading it over, opening the tub and carefully scraping a bit on his finger, tasting it. Yeah, rich, too sweet and very sickly, he held out the tub like a peace offering. "Try this, see what you think."

Taking the pan from the oven Natasha set it on top of the stove. Still wearing the oven mitts she moved the eggplants into the freezer for a few minutes to get them to cool down quickly. Once that was finished she risked a glance at Clint, noting his frown, and felt her stomach sink. It wasn’t supposed to be like this with them; usually they could spend hours in absolute silence and be completely comfortable, but this silence was awkward and heavy and she hated it.

As terrified as she was of her feelings for him, as afraid as she was of their relationship changing and just what their going public could mean, she was more scared of losing him. Losing him in any capacity was her greatest fear.

“Yes, right,” she broke out of her thoughts at the sound of his voice. Turning back to the oven she adjusted the temperature and placed the chicken in. She had to say something, had to do some damage control, but how could she make this better? Just throw all her fears and worries away and throw herself at him right here in the kitchen?

Turning quickly back to him when he spoke again, she looked at the tub of icing he held out before sticking her finger in and scraping out. Looking up at him she offered a tentative smile before placing her finger between her lips and sucking the frosting off. It was more than a little too sweet and would negate the need for whipped cream, not that she expected any of that to actually be used for the desert, or she hadn’t. She wasn’t so sure what the night would hold at this point.

“Sweet enough to make even Thor sick,” she said. “It’s perfect.”

This was a sticking point and Clint was bothered by his own feelings. This wasn't them, being secretive was easier, keeping everything low and private, but there was only so much he could take. He couldn't just walk away from his job so he tried to be 'normal' in other aspects, and this certainly wasn't paying off in his favour.

However he watched her suck on her own finger and was certain the temperature in the kitchen just went up ten notches. Bad idea on his part. He swallowed, eyes dilating, the need to close the gap was overwhelming but he simply stayed put, letting the ghost of a smile play on his lips. "Making Thor sick would be a little triumph." They'd be okay. Clint would follow her to the edges of the world, if she didn't want anything more then what they had then he'd accomodate, even if it meant him missing out on what he really wanted. It was love, plain and simple, he just couldn't tell her that, didn't want to put everything they had on the line. And he really didn't want to loose her.

"I really am sorry, I just thought.." No, he needed to stop, breath, consider what he was saying and rethink this plan for a better time. Awkwardly orbitting her like he always did.

Natasha noted Clint’s reaction and while it was always satisfying she felt now probably wasn’t the best time to get him worked up. At least it seemed like the awkwardness had finally passed.

“Yes, but only if it is because the dessert is too sweet. I don’t want anyone getting sick off the dinner itself,” she said, lowering her hand and turning to retrieve her wine. Taking another sip, she paused with the glass still at her lips when he apologised again. Apparently the awkwardness had not passed.

Part of her wanted to ask just what he had thought, wanted to know what he wanted, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to know. “Not tonight,” she said quietly, lowering the glass. “Let’s not talk about it now.”

"Nobody will get sick, the dinner will be fine." Why did he sound so distant? Oh right because of this point they'd somehow got to because of him putting his foot in everything as usual.

He got the message, loud and clear as she completely blew him off and he nodded, squared his shoulders and turned to look away from her. He couldn't do it, he wanted to tell her everything, wanted to tell her what she meant to him, how much he loved her, how much he wanted her all the time like an addiction he couldn't cure himself of.

"Okay." That hurt, that one simple word showed how submissive he really was but he was determined to play it off, he even faked a smile as he cocked his head over his shoulder.

Clint was not good at playing subtle in situations like these, no. But he tried, he busied his hands with preparing the cake mix, he made sure to keep himself to himself and to sip his wine slowly in between measuring mix and carefully mixing it together. It was fine, he'd get over it, he always did even if this time felt different.

"The wine's good." Idle small talk never suited him.

He tried to brush it off as nothing, but Natasha knew him too well and she could see how much she had hurt him. Turning away as well, while he took care of the cake she busied herself by retrieving the eggplant out of the freezer and working on the vegetable dish. It may have busied her hands but not her mind.

How had she gone from making him smile the way he had to making him miserable in the span of only a few minutes? What was wrong with her? Well, that was a loaded question, as there was so much wrong with her she didn’t even know where to start, but Clint was the one right thing in her life so why couldn’t she fully give in to him?

Dumping all the ingredients together in a bowl, Natasha placed it in the fridge and washed her hands. “Yes, it’s very good,” she said, wincing at the awkward conversation. Turning to face him she watched his back for a moment, convinced she could see the tension in his shoulders even as he tried to push past it. It was too much.

Crossing the distance she hesitated a moment before laying a hand gently on his back. “I’m sorry...”

He heard her moving around behind him, a torrent of noise that shouldn't have been that loud but it was. Until he felt the hand on his back and what, her apologizing?

No, something wasn't right with this picture.

He took a breath, turned slowly and caught her hand in his before she could pull away. "It's not you, don't apologize" He shrugged, the age old line of 'it's not you it's me' sounded pathetic but really, it wasn't her.

There was no flaws Clint could find, nothing he would recoil from. They both had a history, both had issues and problems and both as broken as each other but the fact that they were in this together made everything easy. Clint could forget the bad upbringing, all of his flaws because she was by his side.

It was him and his ridiculous ideas of a normal life.

"I don't want to push you, y'know." He managed a meak smile, stroking a thumb along the back of her hand softly, catching her eyes. "I just want the fantasy of us being normal to last a bit longer, just a stupid ideal I need to get over."

When he turned and took her hand she didn’t pull away. She wanted to protest, but what could she say? That it was her? That she was too afraid to be open about their relationship, too afraid of losing what they had, too afraid of admitting to herself how important he was to her? She couldn’t admit it, couldn’t admit any of it because she was still figuring it out in her head and in her heart. So she let him hold her hand and meet her eyes and she let him take the blame for all the awkwardness between them.

“It’s not stupid,” she said softly. “It just... isn’t us. We don’t get to be normal.” To her credit it was said with a hint of sadness and regret. “But what we have...” her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to make her words work. “It’s more than that. We don’t need what everyone else has.”

Even if there were days that she wanted it.

Well, that was harsh, even if deep down he understood it he couldn't help but feel like she'd just punched him on the nose.

He sighed, nodded, smiled. Everything to try and fix this, raised her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to them softly. "Then I guess I'm sorry it isn't for us." He did understand, he really did, he just couldn't help feeling like his fantasy world came crashing down around him and couldn't be repaired.

"I know, I just wish we had what everyone else had, but I'm content" No he wasn't content, not truely, but he could be for her, because everything was for her.

He let her hand drop, turned slowly with a smile and continued working on his baking. Fool, idiot, yeah he was all of the above and so much more. Maybe his fantasy world really needed a reality check before he did something stupid like telling her something she wouldn't be able to deal with. It wasn't them. "Do you think sprinkles are over the top?" Back to business, when in doubt, retreat.

She’d done it again, she could see it in his eyes; it seemed all she was doing tonight was hurting him and ruining everything. What good was it keeping their relationship secret if she managed to destroy it beyond repair?

She watched him raise her hand to his lips, her heart beating a little faster when he kissed her fingers. It was the little things like that that got her, the sweet things that most men didn’t bother with. It was also those things that made her wish that they could have what everyone else had.

“Clint...” she said his name quietly but didn’t know how to follow up. What could she say to that? That maybe they could be normal some day? That she knew he was lying? He wasn’t content, because if he was they wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. He wanted more, and she wasn’t sure she could give him more.

She let him drop his hand, let him turn away, unsure what else could be said right now. She wanted to reach out to him again, to somehow make it all better, but she knew it would take more than she could offer him tonight. “Sprinkles are never over the top,” she said instead and moved to check on the chicken. Maybe she couldn’t make it better tonight, but later she was sure going to try.

He spent the rest of the time making small talk, laughing along with certain things she retorted with but it didn't feel the same. The easiness had gone and he put it down to himself and his stupidity.

Clint took his time making sure everyone had food on their plates before he finally sat down to eat, making small talk with Bruce, listening to Tony talk about some new contraption. He'd kept his hands to himself like a good boy even though for the majority of the dinner he felt Natasha's leg nudging his and only once dropped a hand to squeeze her knee gently. Two bottles of wine later and Clint was starting to feel pretty happy although it was all illusion and he knew that after washing up and cleaning the kitchen they were going to have to talk, or maybe this awkward patch would continue all night.

Either way he still went with her, carting their wine glasses and the spare bottle with him. It was in the elevator up where he finally broke their stoic silence under the weight of alcohol. "Dinner went well, you were right, those dishes were good."

A lame talking point, but the elevator was no place to have a meaningful discussion.

For her part Natasha hadn’t let on even the slightest that anything was off. She traded the usual banter with Tony and spoke easily with Steve, but only when she felt Clint’s gentle touch did she let herself inwardly relax as well. She knew everything wasn’t fixed, that there were still issues they needed to discuss, but it made her feel that they were at least okay, at least for now.

She was grateful when he broke the silence, even if it was just to speak about dinner. She hadn’t had nearly as much to drink as Clint but it was enough that she could at least feel it, if only a little. “You sound surprised. I am often right,” she tried for a easy, joking reply. It still felt strained.

When the lift stopped on her floor she stepped out, grateful to be in her own space again yet unsure whether to anticipate or dread what was to come.

He was still sober, still held it together to be able to have an intelligent conversation. He just felt a little more relaxed than before. Though that could have also been down to the fact that dinner went without any problems and in their true secretive fashion he still managed to have contact with her.

"Not surprised, I know you're right, it's why I don't argue unless I'm positive." He smiled, nudging her softly. Okay so they were currently in semi-crisis mode, didn't mean he couldn't still have a sense of humour.

That almost changed as he followed her slowly, placing the glasses and the wine bottle down, sliding hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Earlier I meant what I said, it's okay, I'm okay with whatever." Lies. This time he was far more confident that his voice or body language wouldn't betray him. "I mean it would be nice to have more but I get it Tasha, just having you like this is enough." For now, but what happened when it wasn't enough? What happened when he really grew tired of this and needed more? Would that time ever come? He wasn't sure he could answer any of those questions.

He did reach out for her hand, curling fingers around hers, pulling her into him softly. This was supposed to be a nice relaxing evening just the two of them, this wasn't meant to dissolve into an argument over Clint's damn dreams and aspirations. "What we have is good, it works.." He pressed lips softly to her forehead, unsure whether the contact would be welcomed, if she was angry at him for spoiling what should have been an easy day.

His joke made her relax slightly. Maybe they could just let it be as is, maybe they didn’t have to discuss it right now. They could just go back to how things had been, just enjoying their time together exactly how it was.

Of course she was only lying to herself, just as she was sure Clint was lying when he broached the subject again. He played it off well, she had to give him that, and had she not seen how much it had affected him him the kitchen then she might have believed him now.

Deep down she knew it wasn’t true, though. He was obviously willing to put up with her faults and her need for secrecy, but now that he had that wish for normalcy in his heart she knew it wouldn’t just go away. A time would come when what they had just wasn’t enough any more.

She didn’t want to think about that now, though, not when the future seemed so far off and all they had for a long time was tonight. So she let him draw her close, smiled a little when he kissed her forehead, and without a word on the subject, or any subject, she crushed her lips to his and kissed him for all she was worth.

It was hard to distinguish if she was kissing him like that because of what he said or if it was a distraction away from a sore topic point, either way he'd always be willing no matter what the cause.

She tasted heavily of wine and lingering chocolate and his hand blindly sought out her other, now clasping them both in his and walking her backwards, counting his paces like movements on a mission until he turned them and perched on the edge of her bed, pulling her softly into his lap.

He broke the kiss, trailed lips to the colume of her throat, dropped her hands to run fingers up her sides, tracing her ribs. "Well, that was one way to give me an answer." He smirked, that typical wolfish grin lost in the skin of her neck until his expression turned slightly more serious. "I want you so much right now." Yeah way to state the obvious Clint.

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