(2016-10-25) What's a little pasta?
What's a little pasta?
Summary: Natasha and Clint meet up in SHIELD's gym, and after a couple of playful insults back and forth finally come to the crux of the matter… Dinner at Giovanni's. Pasta. All you can eat for $8.99.
Date: 2016-10-25
Related: None
NPCs: None
Scene Runner: NA
Social/Plot: Social

Weather is changing in NYC. Getting cooler and the main indication that it's actually Fall is the greying of the sky. That, and the Christmas decorations are starting to come out. (Man, come on, it's not even Halloween yet!) Now is the time for those who dislike seasonal shifts to come indoors, after a fashion. Keeping fit during these months is a strain for the 'common guy', and there are few more 'common' than Clint Barton, Hawkeye… former Avenger and former SHIELD agent.

Clint's in sweatpants and t-shirt jogging on the treadmill and obviously breaking a sweat. Should someone peek at the tracking information on his readout, he hasn't yet done a mile, and already his pace is beginning to slip.

Someone is out of shape!

Black Widow emerges from the lockers, wearing a SHIELD issued tee shirt and shorts which do little to prevent the distraction of so many dangerous curves. She seems oblivious to the furtive glances as she walks past other crew members working out. For her part she moves past Clint, stepping up onto the first eliptical machine, situated just beside that tread mill. She sets her towel and water bottle down and comments absently. "Better get with it, old man, Fury's going to realize you're not even going above level 3 and you look like you're ready to pass out.." A sly smile crosses her lips as she teases her team mate.


"Eyes on the prize.." is muttered under his breath with each footfall; one in front of the other in front of the other, and still (mostly) toned arms swing in rythm.

As Natasha emerges and gains the admiration of the men in the room and the undying envy or jealousy of the other female agents (is everyone working a little harder right now?), Clint's got his own heavy breathing going on. Looking to the side, Hawkeye is probably the only person who could scowl in her general direction and he shakes his head, "Hey.. at least they haven't sent off alarms for the Medbay," comes back between breaths. "And I'd like to see the Old Man out here doing the running…" And the climbing. And the perching. And the falling out of windows and landing on cars.. and..

"You're looking a little flabby there yourself," Clint counters, teasing. "Running off that last dinner of borscht?"

Black Widow starts moving on the eliptical, Legs and arms scissoring back and forth in a cross country skiing sort of motion. She quickly works up to a fast pace and stays there. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." She pauses then adds casually. "But I've poisoned men for lesser insinuations." The motion on the machine does nothing to hide her figure as she works. "How have you been? It's been quite some time since I last saw you?"

"Couldn't be any worse than last week's chinese," Clint counters with a smirk, though he's hard put to keep it up as the counter finally turns 2 miles.. and going. Those in the immediate area are giving serious consideration to giving the pair a little space…. just in case.

Hawkeye is quiet, checking his breathing for a couple of long minutes before he starts messing with his display, and the treadmill gets slower, and slower. "Bah. Flabby on you would be super toned on some model in Paris. Or Peru. Or whereever they do that sort of thing." As if that'll help things?!

Clint's got it, and once it stops, he has to pause before considering stepping off the machine. His towel is grabbed, though, and hung about his neck to sop up some sweat. "Been? Trying to dodge Cap's attempts at getting the band back together. Mantis is all for it. Wanda. Simon, even. But, I figure if someone convinces me that maybe I should play nice and come out of retirement for something, I probably should be able to run a block without calling 911." Not to mention actually pull a bow?!

Black Widow lets her Russian accent bleed through in her reply, "Komrade. Please to be checkink drinks for addition of very powerful laxative over next week." He's been warned. And this is how she responds when she hasn't taken offense at the backhandedness of a compliment. She looks at him, her accent fading into something neutral from the Midwestern US. "Strange. He hasn't tried to talk to me." Maybe she's just not needed this time. She'll stay on the carrier and do black ops for Fury in that case. It isn't like she'd be without work.

There's that lopsided smile; his knowing expression when he's pushed his teasing to the point where she's ready for 'real' retaliation. Clint's been warned, absolutely, and he'll probably be in agony for a day, two days, but worth it! (Not that anyone else around at the moment would dare say anything, even in jest, that was remotely similar to the famous.. infamous agent?)

Clint nods and finds a good spot to lean against before he offers up a one-sided shrug. "Dunno, but yeah. Kinda strange. 'Course, I wouldn't go into anything without having someone pretty damned capable to watch my back." He grins again and grabs some water off the side, "Think Bobbi's around for that?" Okay.. talk about dipping a girl's pigtails into the inkwell!! He feigns protecting himself against anything that may come flying, and barks a laugh, "Kidding.."

Black Widow smiles as she continues her warm up. "I don't know. I think she is. She was still in the shower when I left this morning. We reported in separately this morning." Zingers are not just for the boys. She finally slows and comes to a stop, not even cracking a smile at the joke. Was it a joke?

Clint stares levelly at Natasha, the woman he's spent YEARS with, and damned if she doesn't have that pokerface going on! He takes a hit off the bottle of water and it sloshes as he brings it down again. "That's just cruel. You and the ex-wife who really isn't an ex-wife." He shakes his head and takes another swallow before, "Seriously, though. If they want to get the band back together, they haven't even asked Katie-Kate. And you know she'd jump at the chance. So, what I might do is let Hill know that if she really feels like giving me a handout, to put me back on the rolls PART-TIME," that part is underscored by a hand gesture. "Assuming, of course, that I can pass the physicals again."

Black Widow looks over. "Pass the physical, Robin Hood. Then worry about your hours." She walks past, tossing him a fresh towel. "You look beat. Maybe you should stick to Step Aerobics for a while." She moves over to one of the butterfly weight machines and settles onto the seat, Adjusting the stack of weights to where she wants to work out she begins pressing her arms together, the plates rising up and lowering on each cycle.

Clint laughs as the towel is thrown at him, and he takes a seat on a weight bench that is close by. Time for crunches. "My only problem with Step Aerobics are all the cute housewives that do it. I get sucked into the videos and I don't get anything done." That too is said with a smirk before he settles in, putting his water down. He groans when he looks at the angle of the bench, but it's good for him… mostly. A grumble is given as he gets into place, and begins those damnable situps/crunches. "Oh god, I'm dying.." is murmured. "Why'd I take a year.." Two years. ".. off again?"

Black Widow is clearly thinking something but says nothing as she works out herself, focusing on her own repetitions. "Don't worry. We'll get a medic for you if you pass out. Right after everyone gets a chance to pose for selfies with your unconcious form."

Whoof.. three…

Ohguh… four…

Clint keeps at them past ten, past twenty, thirty.. as he nears the fifty mark, he starts slowing down again.. and at 60, he's done, lying backwards, his face pinked. "Sounds like a plan," is groaned. "Just don't let them put them up on … whatever that is. Instagram? Is that what that is? Leave me a little dignity. Hell.. I won't even bitch if they drew a mustache on me."

It takes him a concerted moment to get feet on the floor again, and Clint pulls himself up to sitting once again. "Whoa.. okay. After this? Shower. Then, range, and I'm thinkin' Italian?" Brows rise as he's obviously including her. "Giovanni's?"

Black Widow looks over. "Carbs… for the man who has everything including an already low level of stamina and energy? Are you just trying to set yourself up for failure, man?" She shakes her head as she slows to a stop herself, breathing deeply, letting her heartrate drop back down.

"It's all you can eat for $8.99." And he can eat a lot! "It isn't carbs. It's.. carbs.. and vegetables. Tomato sauce counts. And meat. Balls." Dammit. Clint shakes his head and gets his water, draining the last bit before crushing the bottle in hand. "What would you suggest. That I actually go shopping and cook something?" Uh huh.. like that'll work. "Katie doesn't cook either, so I can't go over there. I suppose I could look pathetic and try and see what you guys are having. Or, I could eat out of the commissary. Or.. I might still have a key to the elevator in Stark Tower. I know he doesn't starve."

Black Widow shakes her head in amusement. "You're going to be in so much pain for a long time at this rate.." and he's doing it to himself. "Giovanni's sounds good. But maybe forgo all you can eat for a single dish of pasta, mm?" She winks and wipes down the weight equipment before heading toward the lockers. "I'll meet you in twenty?"

Clint actually laughs at the response. Out of all the suggestions, it falls back to Giovanni's and pasta. "You neither, huh." Nothing changes! "Okay, okay.. one plate. And I swear I'll actually try and finish the house salad." Try. He gets to his feet with a groan, and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "And a glass of wine with at least 4 ibuprofins. I'll meet you in twenty. I need to hit the showers."

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