Hello! So this is my first ever Avenger fanfiction, so I apologise in advance if the characters are ooc. This wasn't BETA's because I just kinda couldn't be bothered, so I'm again sorry for any mistakes.
I own nothing, which is an awful shame because the Avengers are awesome!
He'd been sent to kill, the first time they met. One of his arrows pointed at her chest, as she pointed her gun at his. So maybe he should have expected it to be the way it was, weapons out and no stop to chat. Strike before you ask, seemed to be her way to go. But Clint was interested in striking, he wanted to talk and to talk, he had to stay alive.
In the time he'd been watching her, there'd been many opportunities to strike and kill, but every time one had appeared, he just couldn't bring himself to lose the arrow. It had taken him a while to figure out why. The Black Widow didn't give anyone the opportunity to kill her, she knew he was there and she was giving him the chance, almost as if she wanted him to strike.
Even now as the stared each other down, the opportunity was there, just staring him in the face. It was it mission. Kill the Black Widow. Simple. But there was something her eyes; he could see it as he looked at her. It was well hidden, Hawkeye would give her that, but once he saw it he couldn't forget it. She was running. And she was tired of it. The Black Widow wanted out, and was waiting for Hawkeye to serve the ending strike.
"What's your name?" he asked casually, eyes still trained on her face. He saw her shock and confusion mingled together, though she hid it well. For a few minutes she didn't talk, just looked at him, and Clint was just beginning to think he'd have to take her in and introduce her as the Black Widow, which, while he may have found the reaction amusing, he doubted anyone else would.
"Natasha Romanoff." She muttered, her voice tinged slightly with a Russian accent. For the first time since Natasha had entered the room and found him hiding, she lowered her gaze to the floor, her red hair falling in front of her face. When she looked up again, she was greeted by a grinning face and an arrow a few millimetres away from her heart.
"Pleasure to meet you Natasha, I'm Clint Barton." In his mind there was no question about what he was going to do. SHIELD had saved him, had given him a second chance when he'd done things just as bad as her, maybe not to the same scale, but still bad. They'd both killed for a job; they both had red in an unmarked ledger. If he could be given a second chance, why couldn't the Russian be as well? A killer like her wasn't born; she was made, and could be unmade as well. "I was sent here to kill you, I'm sure you know that. But, I've given it some thought, and I don't think I will."
"Wont your boss be angry? Director Fury doesn't seem to like it when Agents don't follow orders, and I'm clearly a threat that needs to be taken out." Natasha said, though she couldn't deny that part of her was interested in why he didn't want to kill her, what he wanted.
"Ah well I've never been one for following orders. I'd like to offer you choice Natasha, that doesn't involve running anymore or drying..."
Thoughts and opinions are welcome. Thanks for y'know, reading.