A Trip to the Country
Just coming awake, Clint Barton wrapped his arms around the warm woman in his bed. Sleepily, he snuggled his cheek against her curly hair.
Wait. Curls?
He cracked his eyes open warily.
Red curls?
The experienced espionage agent and skilled acrobat extracted himself from the bed in an undignified scramble. Gee, was he glad he always wore pajama pants to bed since an embarrassing incident involving an undersized bath towel and a fire alarm that was not a drill.
Natasha Romanoff rose up on one elbow, unconcerned that the sheets slipped away to bare her firm, full breasts. "Don't go, Clint," she purred. "Come back to bed."
Clint's dumbfounded expression hardened. "No. That's not happening," he said firmly, but without anger.
"But …" The Russian defector looked suddenly uncertain. The experienced seductress was not used to people saying no to her offer.
"No, get out of my bed, please, and get dressed."
"I … don't be mad," Natasha said in a small almost childlike voice, the kind nobody else at SHIELD had ever heard — or would believe from the deadly Black Widow. She looked her age now, the girl that the Red Room had never allowed her to be.
Clint was the only one who understood how young she was and how uneasy she was in SHIELD where she didn't know all the rules. He smiled kindly. "I'm not mad," he said. "But I do not want to sleep with you."
"Why not?" she asked curiously, while she dressed, unworried about whether Clint was watching or not. "Don't you think I'm beautiful?"
"You are, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful, most attractive women I've ever met, but I will not sleep with you," Clint said fervently.
"Do you prefer men, then?" she asked.
"No, Natasha," he said patiently. "Why do you want to sleep with me?"
"You have been kind to me. You probably saved my life. You gave me a purpose, so I do not have to be ashamed. I wanted to say thank you."
"And that's the only way you know?"
"Yes. I owe you everything and I have nothing but myself to offer in return," she said frankly.
"Kid, you don't need to offer me anything," Clint said kindly. He was 13 years older than Natasha, which made her a "kid" in his mind. (Confirming that he was insane, in other agents' minds.) "I'm just glad to have you on our side. And I need to talk to Fury about your paycheck," Clint added darkly, as he stepped into his bathroom to get dressed himself.
Prisoners didn't get paid, and Natasha had only been an official recruit for three weeks. Payday was still six days away.
"A regular paycheck will be new for me," the woman admitted. The Red Room had supplied everything they thought their girls needed, but never cash. She had received bounties for contract kills, but never a salary.
She tied her running shoes and stood, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, SHIELD's typical training gear. Combing fingers through his hair, Clint emerged from the bathroom wearing much the same outfit.
"Come with me," he ordered. Natasha trailed him as he headed for Maria Hill's office. Hill was operations chief this week. She was being cross-trained in all departments, on the fast track to becoming Fury's second in command when old Davies finally retired.
Betting was about even whether she or Coulson would get the job. Clint was betting on Hill — because that's whom Coulson was betting on.
Clint entered Hill's office, closed the door behind him and pressed the button that activated security measures.
Hill raised an eyebrow at him.
"I need to take Romanoff to the country for the weekend," Clint announced.
Hill raised both eyebrows and regarded Clint thoughtfully. "Are you sure about this?" she asked.
"She sneaked into my bed this morning," Clint answered.
Hill pursed her lips. "We should have seen that coming," she admitted.
Natasha would have blushed, if she hadn't been the Black Widow. "It was the only way I knew to thank him."
Hill gave a small understanding smile. "Thank him by buying boxes of Thin Mints from Girl Scouts in February."
Clint gasped theatrically. "You've told her my secret weakness, you fiend!"
"It's not a secret in February," Hill retorted. She turned her gaze to Natasha. "You don't have to give special favors to anyone — not Barton, not Fury, not anyone. You may be asked to do things for a mission," Hill admitted. "Even then, you can say 'No.' But not here. Not ever. Your body is your own. If anyone sexually harasses you, you may make your displeasure known."
"What would be the parameters on 'displeasure'?" Natasha asked curiously.
"No broken bones and no open wounds," Maria answered without hesitation.
"Yes, ma'am. Does that include Agent Garrett, too?" Garrett was a senior field agent, after all, and a personal friend of Coulson's. But he liked to slap Natasha on the butt every time he saw her.
"Especially Agent Garrett," Hill said instantly. "If you're worried about fallout, make sure May or Hartley or Morse are in the room. They'll back you up."
Hill handed Clint a piece of paper. "I'll get the plane prepped, but you'll have to get authorization from Fury to take Romanoff off base." Clint rolled his eyes, but took the paper.
Hill didn't let go for a moment. "Be careful, Clint. Are you still sure you want to do this?"
"Don't you trust me, Hill?" Natasha asked saucily.
"With my life, Romanoff," Hill answered matter-of-factly, shocking the Russian defector. "But maybe not with others' lives." She gave Barton a heavy significant glance and released the paper.
Flummoxed, but not showing it, Natasha trailed Clint to Fury's office.
"He's waiting for you," the secretary said. Obviously Hill had called ahead.
Clint breezed past indignant agents who had been waiting several minutes, pushed open Fury's door and entered. He didn't push any buttons. Security measures were always active in this office.
"You sure about this, Barton?" Fury asked.
"How can she trust me, if I don't trust her?" Clint replied.
Fury sighed, pulled the paper to him and signed it. "I think it's a mistake, but it's your mistake to make. See Coulson before you go." He handed the form back.
Clint sighed loudly, but retraced his steps toward Coulson's office.
"Fury thinks Coulson will talk you out of this," Natasha observed.
"He knows Phil pretty well, but he's wrong about that."
As they entered their handler's office, Coulson himself pushed the button to lock the doors and engage security measures. Natasha braced herself for "Are you sure about this?" but Coulson just eyed them over steepled fingers.
"I'm not going to hurt him," Natasha blurted.
"I believe you." Coulson turned his attention to Clint. "It's not the worst idea you've ever had, but there are risks."
Clint nodded soberly.
"Everyone's going to think you're taking her to a secret love nest," Coulson pointed out with a tiny smile.
"All the better," Clint said cheerfully.
"Did you call to make reservations 'in the country'?" Coulson asked.
Clint's mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"I thought not."
"I wanted it to be a surprise," Clint said weakly, gesturing at Natasha.
"There are surprises and surprises," Coulson said. "I'll call for you. Take a month. We'll call it acclimation training for Romanoff, which is true enough," Coulson said. "And, here, early payday."
"The handler pulled a go bag out of the safe where he kept mission equipment. Natasha caught a glimpse of stacks of well-worn bills inside.
"Thanks, boss."
As Clint and Natasha turned to go, Coulson called after the bowman, "Barton, don't start anything you can't finish. Remember last time!"
Heading to "the country," Natasha got a master class in losing a tail. The unmarked SHIELD light plane was landed in Cincinnati, where a car was waiting. The car was driven by circuitous route to long term parking at a bus station garage. They hiked out of town to a side road and into a field where a rusted out hulk of a pickup truck sat. There were holes in the frame and the upholstery, but the engine roared to life when Clint clicked a key fob. Two more vehicle swaps and they were driving up to a small farmhouse in a nondescript gray sedan.
Natasha wasn't even sure what state she was in any more. Barton's planning and attention to detail earned her respect.
Natasha walked up the creaking front step just ahead of Clint, who had paused to pull his bag from the back seat. The door of the house opened. At first she thought no one was there, then she heard a shout from inside.
"No, Cooper! You don't open the door. Only mommy opens the door!" Natasha looked down to see a mischievous toddler trying to escape.
Clint dropped his baggage with a thump and caught the boy before he could get away. "None of that, bud. You need to listen to your mother," he scolded.
"Dada!" Cooper gurgled happily.
Dada? Natasha's eyes widened in shock.
"Don't ...!" the woman's voice was warning as she reached the door carrying an infant in one arm. She gasped with relief when she saw Clint. "Ever since he got tall enough to reach the doorknob, he's been trying to escape," she said.
Clint shook his head. "Just like his father," he admitted. "Laura, I'd like you to meet my new partner, Natasha Romanoff. Natasha, this is my wife, Laura."
Wife. Wife! No wonder he'd run from the bed.
Natasha studied the other woman. Laura had obviously put on a nice blouse and set her hair, expecting company, but now the blouse was stained and there was a glop of something in her straggling hair that matched glop on the toddler's fingers.
Laura saw a flame-haired woman whose curves nicely filled out a flowered blouse and neat slacks. Though she had been traveling most of the day, Natasha looked as fresh as a dew-spattered daisy. Laura was well aware of her own shortcomings.
"It's dinnertime," she apologized weakly.
"And that's messy time," Clint explained to Natasha. He introduced the toddler Cooper — who waved his mush-covered hands — and infant daughter Lila. Then he told Natasha where to find her room upstairs.
"You've got time to drop your bag and wash your hands," Laura said. "Dinner's all ready."
Natasha went up, but couldn't resist pausing at the head of the stairs, just out of sight.
"She's so glamorous," Laura sighed ruefully, dabbing futilely at the spit up stain on her blouse.
Clint tilted her chin up so she could meet his eyes. "Speaking as someone who grew up in the circus, glamour is temporary, but home is permanent and you're my home."
He kissed his wife passionately, while giggling Lila spread strained peas on his shoulder.
Natasha felt her heart crack. It wasn't that she had fallen in love with Clint. She hardly knew what that meant. But he was the only real friend she had. Maybe the only one she'd ever had. He had a special place in her heart, but his heart was already full with a wife and two children. Natasha felt all alone again.
She dragged herself upstairs to wash. Then put on a brave mask and went down to eat.
She was surprised that Clint didn't treat her any differently. And Laura was friendly, treating her like an honored guest, serving flavorful stew and homemade biscuits with custard tarts for dessert.
"We hardly ever have company," Laura confessed after Clint pointed out she was hovering.
"You're my deepest, darkest secret," Clint said.
"Darkest," Laura pouted.
Clint thought for a moment, "My biggest, brightest secret?" he offered.
"Better."
"We make too many enemies in our business," Clint told Natasha pointedly. "To keep my family safe, I keep them secret, entirely off the books. Fury, Hill and Coulson are the only ones who know about my family. And now you."
Suddenly, Natasha understood why everyone had asked Clint if he was certain. She caught her breath.
Clint nodded. "I trust you, Romanoff. I am trusting you with my most precious secret."
"Why?" she asked in a small voice.
"Because I trust you," Clint said patiently. "I wanted you to know that I really, honestly, trust you."
That was why Hill had mentioned trusting Natasha with others' lives.
"Oh, so when Coulson mentioned a love nest …"
Clint chuckled. "If people think you and I are together, they won't go looking for a wife and children."
"Oh." Natasha thought for a moment, then smiled a genuine smile. "I will be happy to help you maintain your cover."
Laura had gone to the kitchen counter. She returned with a small box. "This will help."
Inside was a fine gold chain with an arrow charm.
"Now you're part of the family," Laura said. She helped Natasha put it on. The Russian touched it with an awed finger.
"I've never had a family," Natasha said quietly.
"You will always have a family with us," Laura promised, twining her fingers with Clint.
Natasha's heart cracked again, and a family's love poured in. Laura held out her hand and Natasha gripped it, feeling an unprecedented connection. It made her smile. No, it made the cool, deadly Black Widow grin.
"Me, me!" Cooper demanded, reaching toward Natasha with a hand covered with jelly.
Natasha took it anyway, and kissed it clean, making Cooper giggle and beg for more. Lila bounced and crowed in her high chair, while Clint dissolved in laughter.
The adults chatted about inconsequential things, aware of the little ears in the room. There would be time later for Natasha to tell Laura about her torturous childhood and for Laura to talk about the difficulties of being the secret wife of a secret agent.
"You've got a whole month off?" Laura was delighted when Clint told her how long he and Natasha could stay. "Phil is my favorite."
"Favorite?" Clint pouted. "What about me?"
"Fifth," Laura said promptly. "Phil, Cooper, Lila, Natasha, then you."
"Why so low?" Clint whined.
"None of the others left a half-finished front porch with no railing and a loose step," Laura said severely.
Clint raised his hands to pacify his wife, "First thing in the morning, I promise!"
"He always starts some project, then leaves it half-done," Laura told Natasha.
"Is that why Coulson told you to not start anything you couldn't finish?" Natasha asked in amusement.
Laura laughed. "Phil's definitely my favorite."
Later, after the children were in bed, Laura and Natasha sat on porch chairs (on the ground, because there was only half a porch) with glasses of lemonade and watched Clint split logs in the long summer twilight.
He'd taken off his shirt and Laura admired the play of muscles on his back. Clint looked over his shoulder and leered at her. She leered back.
"I'm sorry I tried to seduce your husband," Natasha blurted.
"I wasn't surprised," Laura said with a shrug. She tilted her head to admire the sweat beading Clint's muscular back and arms. He threw her a wink. She winked back.
"Who wouldn't want all that?" Clint's wife said complacently.
A/N: I'm back. Sore hand has recovered. I will get back to Reconstruction eventually, but I have a couple other stories to write first. Look in the Captain America file next week for a story about Senator Brandt, of all people. What did he think when he heard about Captain America's heroics?