Disclaimer: I dont own anything. All characters belong to Marvel and their creators, I'm just thankful to play with them.
Budapest, for her, was shit hitting the fan.
For him, well, it was realizing he was in love with her.
Their partnership was still young and volatile, as Natasha, though defected was still thought to be untrustworthy.
It was supposed to be a simple mission, in and out, they said. Well fuck them, they lied.
Natasha had been recognized by an old contact in the gala they had infiltrated. The bastard tipped off the mark that she was here, and her cover as a flirty socialite was blown. Soon she was caught in a firefight, outnumbered, with civilians dropping like flies. But she was not alone. A hawk was nesting.
On the roof across the street, Clint Barton notched an arrow and aimed for a guard who had managed to momentarily pin his partner. No small feat to be sure.
She looked up at him, dispite the insuing fight and glowered at him. She had had it under control, it was her kill.
She didn't need him. No, she had always taken care of herself. Mother Russia only molded her. Lesson number one was look out for yourself, and it was taught with neglect and and abuse. Young Natalia Romanova learned quickly.
But no, he had to show up and give her a chance, he had to save her because he saw himself in her. And here he was doing it again. She didn't like him, but in the back of her mind she knew she at least didn't hate him as much as everyone else. She made that clear when she chose to come with him, to S.H.I.E.L.D.
Damn it.
He caught the look, even from fifty feet away. He saw better from a distance after all. But damn was he mad he did. He felt something pull at his heart and pool in his stomach.
Lust? No, he had more control than that.
And then it hit me like a ton of bricks with a sharp intake of breath. He loved her. He loved that crazy woman. And then he smiled. A genuine smile. It was highly inappropriate, they were killing men after all. But he was happy. He was happy and confused and exasperated, and a million other things all at once. But the thought at the front of his mind, even as one of his arrows lodged itself into a mans eye, was that he was in love.
Damn, this was going to be interesting.
"This is just like Budapest all over again".
"You and I remember Budapest very differently".
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