This is an outtake from Nobody Puts Dummy in the Corner. I apologize in advance.
Because they had about four hours to kill before extraction could arrive, and Steve had asked for a little alone time—Natasha suspected he just didn’t like others to see him in pain—they headed into Istanbul to play tourist for a couple of hours. Natasha enjoyed these interludes more than she let on: Clint got a kick out of taking on a persona, whether it was an “ugly American” or a local, and he could usually goad her into playing along.
Today, they were tourists. Cliff and Nadine Wurst (because he made a bad pun about falafel and she called him “the Worst,” he said), enjoying an exotic trip to Turkey as a way to get away from their native Des Moines. It meant Midwestern accents and a lot of gawking, as though they weren’t armed to the teeth and terrifying besides.
Tourism meant wandering through the Hagia Sophia (and trying not to laugh at the pitiful security) and the Blue Mosque. It meant street vendors and containing her laughter at the way Clint wrinkled his nose at her ayran. It meant buying gaudy things as a joke for Coulson, who would give them a pained look because he would feel obligated to display them in his office. Manners, Natasha had always told him, would be the end of him.
They headed to the Grand Bazaar with that goal in mind, which was one of the greatest shopping meccas in the world, so Natasha didn’t mind. She browsed the stalls until she heard, “Oh, that’s perfect,” from Clint.
He held a small red fez with a golden tassel in his hands.
“Uh, that’s a bit small for Coulson, don’t you think?”
Clint grinned. “It’s not for Coulson.”
“Don’t you think we’ve got enough clothes around the Tower for when one of us gets de-aged?” Natasha asked, for that unfortunate scenario happened more often than any of the Avengers wanted to admit.
“Oh, probably,” Clint said, and paid for the fez.
They bought Coulson a sequined street-air painting of the Hagia Sophia, and some beautiful scarves for Pepper, and some of the local cuisine to take back for Thor because he was always curious about other cultures in Midgard. For Steve, they found the Turkish version of his shield, and a tiny Turkish Iron Man action figure for Tony. For Bruce, they bought coffee beans, as the man inexplicably adored Turkish coffee. Natasha stopped by an electronics stall while Clint was off haggling over some local-made arrows.
It wasn’t until they arrived back and Dummy, as ever, found her outside her room, that Natasha figured out who the fez was for.
She smiled at Clint, who trailed after the robot, as she petted Dummy on his armature. “Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
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Date: 2012-10-26 07:06 pm (UTC)Because they had about four hours to kill before extraction could arrive, and Steve had asked for a little alone time—Natasha suspected he just didn’t like others to see him in pain—they headed into Istanbul to play tourist for a couple of hours. Natasha enjoyed these interludes more than she let on: Clint got a kick out of taking on a persona, whether it was an “ugly American” or a local, and he could usually goad her into playing along.
Today, they were tourists. Cliff and Nadine Wurst (because he made a bad pun about falafel and she called him “the Worst,” he said), enjoying an exotic trip to Turkey as a way to get away from their native Des Moines. It meant Midwestern accents and a lot of gawking, as though they weren’t armed to the teeth and terrifying besides.
Tourism meant wandering through the Hagia Sophia (and trying not to laugh at the pitiful security) and the Blue Mosque. It meant street vendors and containing her laughter at the way Clint wrinkled his nose at her ayran. It meant buying gaudy things as a joke for Coulson, who would give them a pained look because he would feel obligated to display them in his office. Manners, Natasha had always told him, would be the end of him.
They headed to the Grand Bazaar with that goal in mind, which was one of the greatest shopping meccas in the world, so Natasha didn’t mind. She browsed the stalls until she heard, “Oh, that’s perfect,” from Clint.
He held a small red fez with a golden tassel in his hands.
“Uh, that’s a bit small for Coulson, don’t you think?”
Clint grinned. “It’s not for Coulson.”
“Don’t you think we’ve got enough clothes around the Tower for when one of us gets de-aged?” Natasha asked, for that unfortunate scenario happened more often than any of the Avengers wanted to admit.
“Oh, probably,” Clint said, and paid for the fez.
They bought Coulson a sequined street-air painting of the Hagia Sophia, and some beautiful scarves for Pepper, and some of the local cuisine to take back for Thor because he was always curious about other cultures in Midgard. For Steve, they found the Turkish version of his shield, and a tiny Turkish Iron Man action figure for Tony. For Bruce, they bought coffee beans, as the man inexplicably adored Turkish coffee. Natasha stopped by an electronics stall while Clint was off haggling over some local-made arrows.
It wasn’t until they arrived back and Dummy, as ever, found her outside her room, that Natasha figured out who the fez was for.
She smiled at Clint, who trailed after the robot, as she petted Dummy on his armature. “Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
“What? He looks fantastic.”
“Yes, he does,” Natasha said, and Dummy preened.