Risk

Twenty one

"Alright, I'm tired of watching you mope around all depressed," Clint clapped his hands together, a point of action as Natasha looked up from the movie she was watching on the Tv.

She was still in pyjamas, a blanket wrapped around her and hair pulled up on a messy bun at the top
of her head. In her lap was half a tub of ice cream which she was eating with a spoon half heartedly. She turned her gaze to him, unfazed as she swallowed a mouthful.

"I've no idea what you mean, I'm in the prime of life." She stated sarcastically, watching him raise his eyebrows at her.

"You've not left here in three days." He said, "This isn't you Nat, moping over a guy."

"I'm perfectly fine, honestly I just need time to be angry and sad until I work out what I'm thinking." She argued, frowning at his disbelieving look. "What?"

"When did you last wash your hair?"

"....Alright, alright." She pushed the ice cream onto the table and pulled the blanket off from around her. "What's your plan?"

His face broke back into a grin, cheeky and inviting. "Wanna watch me do something stupid?"

"How stupid?" She asked, swinging her legs off the couch to stand up.

"Scar my body for life stupid,"

She regarded him for a moment before shrugging. "I'll go shower, I'll be ready in an hour."

***

The tattoo place Clint had booked an appointment with wasn't nearly as backalley as Natasha expected it to be. Pieces of simple art work hung on white walls, and it had a much more open inviting atmosphere to the studio.

The girl behind the desk had jet black hair, shaved at one side, and a large lip and nose ring. Her right bicep was covered in a mixture of tattoos following a 1950s pin up theme.  She greeted them with a grin, ushering both of them back towards one of the artist who wasted no time creating Clint's 'vision', as he kept calling it.

His 'vision' consisted of a replica of passport stamps of the countries he'd visited along his forearm, something he could add too. This merged into a detail atlas styled map along his upper bicep, and across to the left side of his chest where a compass would be the main focus, pointing to the letter 'N'.

"Always guides me home," he explained to Nat with a shrug, laying back on the table, ready for hours or gruelling inking.

It was delicate, intricate work that fascinated Natasha as she sat in the chair watching the artist tattoo his left pec to begin with, starting at the top to work his way down after several sessions. It was entertaining for around an hour, before she turned to flicking through a portfolio of the tattoo shops work, her mind wandering.

"You've got a look on your face that says you're considering getting one, I've some time now if you want?" the girl with the black hair smirked over at Natasha, popping her gum as Natasha shook her head with a grin.

"The thought had never crossed my mind," she laughed, still scanning her way through the selection of smaller tattoos. "Until right now,"

"Dare you." Clint smirked from the position he was laying in as the artist continued tattooing his chest. "C'mon Nat, live a little. Be spontaneous."