AN: Well I for one LOVE this song, and I came up with the plot and stuff while listening to it, but at first I tried to stuff Skyeward in it and then I listened again and I was like…nnnooooo it's CLINTASHA! So here it is!
Hope you like it. I'll admit I don't think it's as smooth as the others…but whatev.
Song is Smooth by Santana feat. Rob Thomas
Man, it's a hot one
He was hot. Tired. Sweaty. And with every step, so beyond over this. Yet, he kept up with her; following her around the world as her shadow. A little game of cat and mouse where he wasn't sure who was winning, but he was willing to put money on it being her.
It was a simple assassination job. He'd flown to Moscow, staked out her known hangouts, planned his attack, and waited in the snow…for five hours. She finally exited the building on the outskirts of town as his toes had started to tingle from the cold, and he had his weapon ready within seconds. He had watched her walk along the sidewalk, his fingers itching in anticipation as he held the string waiting for the perfect moment to release.
Like seven inches from the midday sun
A young woman fell down the stairs from the apartment his target had been walking past, her wails of pain reaching even his ears yards away. He released the tension on his bow, when he watched her take off her own coat to drape over the young woman on the ground, helping her stand up before neighbors started emerging from their homes to investigate the noise.
A small crowd swarmed around and before he knew it he lost sight of her. His eyes scanned each face in the group of people and cursed under his breath as he tucked the arrow back into his quiver. Cold and annoyed he'd packed up his things and made his way back into the city making up reasons for himself along the way as to why he had let her go. She helped that woman, whether it was for distraction purposes or not, he'd let her live another day in return. It was only fair?
Well, I hear you whisper and the words melt everyone
When he got back to the hotel he was staying in—under a false name of course—the concierge gave him a note with only one sentence and he remembers groaning as he read.
'Might want to bundle up next time.'
But you stay so cool.
Next thing he knew he was in Madrid. The city air significantly warmer compared to Moscow, but at the time a little too warm as he sipped his beer quietly in the corner of the club. He followed the trail of webs she left in her wake, his patience rewarded when she arrived to the club alone, sashaying in as if she owned the place. He watched her like a hawk would their prey as she leaned over the bar in the center of the room. Standing up, he threw his empty bottle in a trashcan as he walked by, weaving through the mob on the dance floor. She hadn't moved a muscle; maybe she wanted him to confront her?
Sliding in to the opening beside her, he kept his gaze straight ahead with his hands clasping in front of him on the bar top and one foot propped up on the bar running along the bottom. Looking down at his hands he decided to address her, "Buy you a drink?"
My muñequita,
He gestured to the barkeep with a wave of his hand before she responded.
"No."
Leaning over the bar once the bartended came close enough, "Two Black Russians", with a nod the young man across the bar set out to make their drinks and after he laid a couple bills on the bar he finally turned his gaze to her with a smirk. It was a poor attempt but perhaps his choice of drink would make her aware of his actual purpose, leaving her with nowhere to run.
"I said no."
My Spanish Harlem Mona Lisa.
Her straight red hair framed her face along with her bangs that rested just above her eyebrows. He had to admit, she was the most beautiful mark yet, he was glad he at least got close enough to see hand instead of guessing from a rooftop.
Their drinks appeared in front of them, and without taking his eyes away from her, he slid one of the glasses until it rested in front of her elbows that rested on the bar.
"Yeah, well, I've never been one to listen."
His target brought a hand up to brush some hair back across her shoulder as she turned her head to finally look at him, her plump lips returning his smirk as she looked him up and down. Her slim fingers brought the glass up to her lips, tilting her head back as she took a drink, humming in response to his admission.
You're my reason for reason,
"Well, at least you're wearing appropriate clothing this time,' she brought the glass down to the bar, swiveling around in her chair to fully face him, "Lucky for you it doesn't snow too much around here." He had to admire her wit; she was spunky for someone who was looking into the eye of her to be assassin. Two could play this game.
The step in my groove.
A weak laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head and looked out onto the club floor, "Oh yeah," he looked back to her and watched carefully as she uncrossed and crossed her bare legs, "Good thing I had your note to remind me, eh?"
She was mid drink when he made his comment, and a wicked smile stretched out on to her ruby red lips before tilting her head back to down the rest of the drink. It was so surreal to him, to be talking so casually to his target.
The file had described her abilities as those of a lethal nature, yet here was a beautiful young woman, in a small black dress with one shoulder strap stretching out and covering the skin over her generous sized breast, sitting in front of him looking none too dangerous at all. At least…not in the violent kind of way.
And if you said, "This life ain't good enough."
She slid forward off of her chair, the edges of her dress creeping up her thighs as she did so, smoothing them out once she straightened up in front of them. Of course his eyes shot down to catch the creamy tan skin she revealed, but he snapped his attention up to her face quickly noticing his moment of weakness. Her devious smile and cocked eyebrow told him she had caught him red handed and he reached his hand across his torso to lay his own glass back down onto the bar.
It was time to get down to business.
"So Miss Romanova, how should we do this?"'
He watched her lips part slightly before nodding her head in understanding, turning her gaze out on to the dance floor. She was no doubt looking for a means of escape, but there was no way he was letting her out of his sight.
Her sultry voice floated through his ears as he watched her bat her eyelashes up at him, "Well, I don't know Agent Barton, how would you like to do this?" His eyes widened slightly before he cocked his head at her, clicking his tongue. So she knew. "Or do you prefer Hawkeye?"
Okay, she knew a lot.
I would give my world to lift you up
He had to retaliate; she couldn't know he was caught off guard.
Clint shrugged nonchalantly, "That depends— do you prefer Natalia or Black Widow?" Her eyes narrowed into silts when they turned back to him, and he made a mental note to congratulate himself later on at the quick come back.
Her gaze turned back out onto the floor and he watched her expression turn into one that looked almost like longing. "Dance with me." He blinked in confusion as he tried to process the strange request. "What?"
She shrugged her shoulders before waving a hand out onto the dance floor, "You've obviously won Mr. Assassin. Can't a girl get one last dance? Your information no doubt told you of my passion."
He stared down at her as she arched an eyebrow up at him. She had studied to be a ballerina, yes that he knew. "I know a lot about you actually." His hand was suddenly in her small one and he felt her tug him out onto the floor. The music was loud and he was so not a fan of people bumping into him, but if he showed signs of discomfort she would no doubt exploit it.
I could change my life to better suit your mood
She turned to face him, running her hands up his arms around his neck, "Good, I'd love to hear you tell me all about me." What was it about this red headed vixen in front of him? He'd started with the simple mission of marking her off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s list and now here he was in some club in Madrid wanting to know more about this woman than any file could ever tell him.
Clint's hands found her hips and when she grinded herself up against him, his mind began to fog. No. This was no good. Well, it was good, but oh God, not good. He was supposed to be a professional—he's one of the agency's top agents for fuck sake. Didn't he have a crush on that other agent? What was her name? Britney? Bianca? Dammit he knew her code name was something about a bird like his, why couldn't he think of her name?
Her fingers wove themselves into his hair as she moved her hips against his once more.
Fury's waited this long, giving her one more night wouldn't hurt, right? Yeah, it was no big deal.
Her lips grazed the shell of his ear triggering a shiver to inch down his spine.
Because you're so smooth.
Dammit.
They couldn't even make it out of the building, settling on an office—presumably belonging to the person who owns the club—off to the side of one of the hallway leading to the backdoor of the building.
And it's just like the ocean under the moon,
She had shoved him through the door and he'd caught himself on the edge of the desk, panting, as he watched her close and lock the door. The look in her eyes was downright predatory and he felt his combat instincts kicking as a reflex. She was on him in seconds and as soon as her body made contact with his he grabbed her by her biceps and spun them around, laying her back flat on the desk as he hovered above her.
Their eyes met briefly, her lips parted with a strand of red hair stuck to her lipstick.
Well, that's the same as the emotion that I get from you
The archer's rough hands ran up the sides of her thighs pushing the bottom of her dress up as he went, stopping once he reached her hips. Small hands shot out and shoved his chest, causing him to lose his footing slightly as he straightened up away from her briefly before her hands reached for his belt and pulled him roughly to her once more.
Her deft hands had his belt undone in seconds and he bit back a moan as she wrapped her hand around him. It was a challenge, he wasn't giving her the satisfaction of making him call out…not first anyway.
You got the kind of loving that can be so smooth, yeah.
He reached into his pocket to pull out a switch blade before slicing through the fabric of her panties, the hitch in her breath a satisfying victory in his own eyes. He threw the fabric away and tangled his fingers in her long red hair, pulling her head back to suck on her neck, nipping gently before soothing his tongue over the bite. He brought is lips back up hungrily to her own as he threw the knife behind her shoulder, the tip digging through the drywall.
She had his pants around his ankles before he knew what was going on and he sucked in a breath at the feel of his tip at her wet center.
Give me your heart, make it real
His eyes flickered to hers as she looked up at him through thick eye lashes.
Fury was going to kill him.
Or else forget about it.
He followed her all the way to Rio de Janeiro this time, cursing himself the whole way.
Well, I'll tell you one thing
The worst part about it now was that she knew he was following her, leaving little taunts where ever she could. He should've just shot the broad months ago in Moscow, and then maybe he wouldn't be running along these rooftops trying to keep up with her.
He'd severely underestimated her in Madrid. This bitch was nuts. Tearing through packs of guards with nothing but whatever it was on her wrists and practically dancing around them as she took them out.
Ballerina. Yeah whatever.
Two bullets zipped by his ear. Whoever was after her was now after him as well. He looked back down to the ground to see what direction she was in and stopped running when he couldn't find her.
If you would leave it'd be a crying shame
"Shit!"
More bullets whizzed by him, and he withdrew an arrow from his quiver in reflex, exploding once it made contact with the SUV shooting at him. Satisfied his eyes roamed the rooftops and streets once more looking for any sign of her. A whirling noise closed in on him, and looking over his shoulder he found a helicopter closing in fast.
"Oh come on!"
The archer took off once more jumping from air conditioner units to balconies to avoid the guns of the helicopter above him. The row of houses was coming to an end and he saw what looked like an opening in one of the roofs ahead. That was his best shot; he didn't care what it led to.
He hurtled over another air cooling unit before dropping down through opening in the roof, crashing down through construction scaffolding as he went. He got up as quickly as he could, the landing having knocked the wind out of him, and he took off running down a corridor leading off from the construction.
He came to an intersection and stopped to look behind him to make sure no one was following him, when he felt himself being knocked to the ground again, except by something a little softer than scaffolding.
Groaning he raised his head to look at what had knocked him down only to stare into the blue wide eyes of the Widow herself.
In every breath and every word
"Oh shit."
Oh shit was right. He practically threw her off of him as he jumped to his feet, an arrow aiming at her throat within a second.
"Don't move."
She rolled her eyes. "Come on Barton, now's not really a good time for foreplay."
Foreplay? The fuck?
Bullets rained down on him interrupting his thoughts and he immediately shoved her out of the way and protected her with his own body. Once they stopped he looked back at her to make sure she was okay to find her eyes wide in fear. Fear wasn't listed in her file.
I hear your name calling me out
Those eyes though, it was there he knew he saw it. The sound of bullets making their way towards them once more brought him back and he grabbed her hand, hauling her up. "We gotta' go come on!"
Here he was saving her again….Fury was definitely going to kill him.
He'd lost her somewhere in the chaos. No surprise there. S.H.I.E.L.D. sources found her buying a plane ticket the next day, and again a week later arriving at an airport in Mexico City. Needless to say, he got there two days early.
Out from the barrio,
This time though, he was changing the game. The agent had left clues for her this time, sloppy clues he wouldn't make the mistakes of ever leaving under normal circumstances of course, but in order to get the appropriate response he made an exception. The next step was to wait.
Clint took a sip of his second beer of the afternoon, his eyes focused on the TV in front of him. He'd learned Spanish in the academy it was relatively easy to follow the soccer game. The heat outside created a haze in the city, resulting in there only being a few other patrons other than himself in the bar.
You hear my rhythm on your radio
He felt her presence before she even came up next to him. His lips curved into a smirk, knowing his plan had actually worked.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
The roles really were reversed this time.
You feel the turning of the world so soft and slow
He raised his glass in the air, keeping his eyes on the TV on the wall, "No thanks, got my own."
The bartender was in front of them now waiting patiently to see what she would like.
"Two White Russians please."
Clint shook his head at her antics. Black and White. Is that what they were to each other? Black Russian and White Russian cocktails?
Turning you 'round and 'round
Oh, what the hell. Why not?
He knocked back the rest of what was left in the bottle in his hand and scooted it forward on the bar as the bartender placed their two cocktails in front of them, grabbing it as he retracted his arm. He eyed the bartender, waiting for him to walk away before speaking, "What can I do for you Romanova?" He started to bring his glass to his lips, "Not really in the—"
"Natasha."
His hand stilled and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "What?"
And if you said, "This life ain't good enough,"
The red head looked down at the drink in her hands, swirling the straw in a circle around the glass, "My name. I go by Natasha."
Natasha. Well…this was unexpected. What was it supposed to be like an olive branch? Or 'hey thanks for saving my life back in Brazil?' He nodded his head slightly and took a quick drink.
"Clint."
Might as well trade info. It was only fair?
I would give my world to lift you up,
He was saying that a lot lately when it came to her.
She turned her stool to face him, raising her glass towards him a beautiful smile on her lips, "Good to meet you Clint."
I could change my life to better suit your mood.
His eyes flitted from the glass to her face and he slowly brought his tumbler up to clink hers, returning her smile.
"You too."
Because you're so smooth,
Maybe he didn't have to kill her after all…S.H.I.E.L.D. was all about second chances after all?
Clint couldn't figure out how such small hands had such power behind them as he found himself shoved, once again, through a door only this time to fall down to the floor. The door slammed behind them and he watched with heavy eyelids when she stripped her clothing one piece at a time as she walked towards him. He felt his pants tighten and his breathing quickened in response.
And it's just like the ocean under the moon
Natasha dropped her knees to the ground, lowering her hips down to straddle his own, pressing her warm center against the bulge in his jeans.
He bucked his hips up, yearning for more attention to the naked woman above him, and when his hands reached up to cup her breasts she intercepted them and slammed them down onto the floor by his head.
She ran her tongue along the column of his throat, sinking her teeth into his pulse point eliciting a growl from him as he writhed below her. Clint felt her smile against his skin and his fingers gripped the hands holding his own to the ground.
Natasha brought her mouth up to his ear, her warm breath sending wave after wave of pleasure through his nerves. "How did you do with torture training in that daycare you call an Academy?" Her tongue darted out to run along the outside of his ear after her question.
Well that's the same as the emotion that I get from you.
He shifted underneath her, trying to get a hold on the pleasure responses his body naturally produced, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Pretty good, actually. High marks." Was this the kind of stuff she used on her targets? No wonder those suckers fell for it.
She chuckled against his skin as she trailed her lips once more down his throat and to his chest, mouthing his nipples through his shirt, "Oh really?"
Breathing deeply he swallowed again before responding, "Oh yeah, but when it comes to that sort of thing, there's one major factor you always have to account for."
Natasha hummed against his abs, his hands now down by his sides, still in her grip, "And what's that?"
You got that kind of loving that can be so smooth, yeah
Gathering his strength he bucked his hips, jarring her off of him, loosening her hold on his wrists allowing him to grip her biceps in his fingers and flip their positions, pinning her roughly to the floor. Clint grinned down at her as half of his body lay beside her, leaning his torso to hover slightly over her, one arm under her shoulders and his other hand ghosting over her taught stomach.
He watched her suck in a breath as his hand traveled lower, resting his fingers over her center, not moving. Her frustrated keen caused his grin to widen and he congratulated himself in his head for turning the tables.
Give me your heart,
The agent waited for her to quit fidgeting before meeting her frustrated gaze. This woman very well may be the death of him. Both figuratively and literally.
Make it real,
"That person's definition of torture."
Or else forget about it.
The streets of Los Angeles were crowded and he kept his hands in his pockets as he wove in and out of the traffic of people. He had no destination, no mission, just the overwhelming need to go lose himself in something.
Alcohol preferably.
He finally found a bar on the strip that seemed less crowded than usual, and sat down at the end.
The past few months had been hell— the past year even more so— and for the first time in a long time, he was so over it. He loved his job. Just not the misery of red hair and blue eyes it brought him.
He'd convinced Fury long ago that she'd be an asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. and after a lot of arguing, the man finally agreed. Though, when he offered it to Natasha in New York a month or so ago, his response was what she referred to as 'cognitive recalibration', the spot she hit him still sore a month later. He looked solemnly around the bar. Nameless faces surrounding him.
There was really no room for friends in this business was there?
The agent brought his bottle up to take a swig before he caught a glimpse of fiery red hair walking by the bar window.
No.
He wasn't going to. He was tired of changing his life around her.
He'd changed so much already, to the point he didn't know if he'd ever be able to pull as assassination off again.
He waited. Clenching his eyes shut tightly, he tried to convince himself it was useless.
Well it was worth a shot.
"Dammit."
He threw some money down onto the bar before rushing out the door, frantically looking in the direction the woman had gone in. He found her just a block up ahead of him and he walked briskly to catch up with her.
He finally caught up with her and gripped her elbow from behind, the woman whipping around to face him.
Not Natasha.
"Can I help you?"
Probably not.
"Sorry lady, I thought you were someone else."
The not-Natasha huffed as she walked away, and he let his head fall back as he looked to the sky, berating himself for even thinking it could be her.
"Well that was embarrassing."
His eyes shot open and he let his head fall back down to see another red head staring in front of him.
The right red head.
"Tasha."
She scoffed in her usual sarcastic way, rolling her eyes as she turned away from him, "Like, I'm actually embarrassed for you."
And it's just like the ocean under the moon
He reached out quickly before she could go any farther, "Natasha, I—"
They were in the middle of the street. Tons of people walking by. Totally low key.
Fiery red hair swayed back and forth as she shook her head, "Not here." She nodded her head in the direction she was headed, "Come on, let's go get a drink and—"
"No, Natasha." He released her elbow, "Every time we go through this cycle, I wake up with a headache and I'm done."
Well, that's the same as the emotion that I get from you
Natasha closed her mouth and her mouth drew into a frown. They stared one another down as the crowd lightened up slightly around them, still not noticing the two assassins.
"Don't be a pussy Barton, suck it up."
It was his turn to roll his eyes and he started to back away from her, "Whatever." He gave her the finger as he turned around to walk back down the street he came, stopping to turn towards her again when he heard her call his name.
You got the kind of loving that can be so smooth, yeah.
The woman sauntered up to him again, placing both hands on his chest and looking up at him through heavy mascara lined eyelashes, "Clint…"
He stared down at her and looked into her blue eyes. Was this even about her joining S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore? Or was it something a lot deeper? He looked down and noticed something shiny around her neck. Her gaze joined his as they stared at the necklace she wore, neither saying a word.
Give me your heart,
He took a deep breath, "It's now or never Nat. I need to know." The silence stretched on and enough was enough. The archer shook his head, covering her hands on his chest with his own before gently placing them at her sides, "Forget it. I'm done chasing after you." He turned to leave again before he heard her.'
Make it real,
"No you're not."
Or else forget about it
Turning around to finish the argument he found she had already gone. Looking around he searched corners of the streets, windows of buildings all around, searching for a glimpse of red hair. A whistle caught his attention and he looked up to see a flash of red hair standing on a roof not far from where he was standing. He could see her infuriatingly sexy smirk from where he stood.
Clint watched as she reached behind her and pulled something out of her back wallet, and once he caught the gleam of the sun reflecting off of it, he knew what it was and he groaned.
Or else forget about it
The minx swiped his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge.
Shaking his head with a laugh, he put his hands on his hips before squinting back up to her, watching her blow him a kiss before running along the rooftops, disappearing.
Or else forget about it
Who was he kidding?
He should have known he'd never stop chasing her.
Let's don't forget about it
AN: you like the sexy times yes? Lol jk. BUT I hope you liked it, I had fun with it. I originally stopped after the first time they hooked up but I remember what happened in Criminal when I stopped and decided not to like torture people this time I guess.
Read and Review and Rejoice that I chose to do this over my homework!