AN: Damn Joss Whedon for sucking me into another fandom. I have all these fics swirling around and I can't get rid of them without writing them down! I don't own anything of course. Please review. I like reviews.
Many people, Fury included, think that the mission Hawkeye was sent on to terminate Natasha Romanoff was the first time they met. In hindsight, Clint Barton was grateful he was loose on the details of their first meeting. He would have never been given the assignment; someone else would have, and they would have completed the mission without hesitation.
"Fuck." "Eбля." Two languages, one common concern. The rebels who were storming the compound were putting a major cramp on the plans of two people, both with very different goals and backgrounds.
The Black Widow was working her mission, under cover as the fiancée of the son of the official who lived at the compound. As far as the boy knew, they were desperately in love and planning a wedding, no idea that the woman he loved was using him for access to his father's files. She had been working this particular mission for 7 months, consistently feeding information back to the Red Room.
Hawkeye was working his mission, silently inching through the ductwork to gain access to a hidden room that held a prototype weapon that SHIELD was interested in. This was his fourth day in, and he had been completely on schedule. Infiltrate the compound, find an opportunity to slip away and get the weapon. He had come in with the gardening crew, and slipped into the vents at his first opportunity. Azarov, the man he was stealing from, was passed out dead drunk, helped by the sedative that Hawkeye had put in his vodka. While his mission was to get in and out without Azarov being the wiser, making it harder to pin on the Americans, he also wasn't too concerned if the man went to the long sleep.
Hawkeye was slithering his way through a vent when he heard the gunshots. He quickly moved to a location where he could view the situation and he saw a young man and woman looking with concern out a window that was getting increasingly lit from a firefight.
Before there was a moment to decide what to do, a bullet pierced the wall, and then the chest of the young Russian man. The Black Widow was genuinely shocked; she had not been expecting the rebels to be quite so well-armed. She immediately left the window and scanned for her exits.
Hawkeye made a split-second decision. He opened the grate and motioned for her to join him. He knew the woman was the fiancée of the man who just died, and her record was clean from the intel he had been given. He was a little surprised that she didn't hesitate and easily scrambled up to join him.
She helped him replace the grate and soundlessly he motioned for her to follow, which she did. He had already had aborted his primary mission and went to a secondary, which was to make sure the weapon was not getting in the hands of the invaders. He led the woman through the ventilation system, gaining a strange look when he dropped something through one of the grates. She didn't speak, and he didn't answer the look, just moving on to his exit plan. The charge he dropped in the room was enough to destroy the house and everything in it for a wider radius than he liked to think about. It was on a timer – they now had seven minutes to get out and get as far away as possible.
His curiosity was piqued by the fact that this seemingly upper-class woman was able to keep up with him and more oddly, was not crying, panicking, or filled with questions as to who he was and what he was doing. Hawkeye took it as a blessing though; it made the journey much faster. They quickly moved through the vents, coming out on the roof where he had a toy that Fury had given him, waiting. Half hang-glider, half jet-pack, it was silent and hopefully with the commotion below, they wouldn't note the solid black shape flying from the roof into the forest. He was thankful that the woman was small - otherwise he might have had more concerns about whether it could hold both their weights. She allowed herself to be strapped to him without a word and the two people took off into the night.
The soldier was relieved; the flight path was smooth and no one seemed to have caught on to their departure. He calculated the time left before everything blew and silently willed the craft to go faster. The woman pointed down to the ground; they were out of the fight area now and she thought it was high time to land. He shook his head curtly; all his attention on getting even further from the blast that he knew was coming.
The Black Widow was beginning to be concerned; she could have gotten out of that house by herself, but the man she was hanging onto currently had provided a quicker and cleaner out. Plus, he was a mystery and getting intel on him would be a bonus now that her other mission was terminated. But now she was stuck in the air and she wasn't sure why he was still flying. They were over woods yes, but it wasn't more than thirty miles to a major highway. She was considering whether she should take him out or go along with the trip when all of a sudden she heard and felt a giant WHUMP as a hand of warm air sent them tumbling end over end into the woods below.
'This is not my best day ever,' thought Hawkeye as the charge went off and they were still not quite far enough away. The extra weight of the woman had slowed his flight too much. The concussive force from the explosion sent the glider spiraling out of control. He struggled to try and right it and regain control, without success. As they neared impact, he curled his body around what he thought was the innocent woman who was along for the ride and released their harness. He tried to roll with the woman, again surprised at how well she was able to read what he was trying to do, the two of them dispersing the impact through continued motion.
"I can't believe that worked," Hawkeye muttered to himself, cutting himself free from the woman.
"Me neither," she replied in perfect English, causing his eyebrows to go up a little further.
"Who are you working for?" he asked, chiding himself mentally for not realizing earlier that she had to be a spy, just like him.
"Who are you working for?" she countered with annoyance. He couldn't think she was that stupid. She paused, then asked "Why did you take me out of there?"
A smirk, "Bad intel. Mine said you were innocent, you had no idea of what those assholes were doing." He looked her up and down: barely injured, clearly able to keep up with him and adapt to the unusual situation she was now in. "Obviously that was wrong."
She gave him a withering look, "I was getting information, just like you were. I had nothing to do with their weapons." Though she would have, if she had been told to – she left that part out. Something about the man in front of her didn't make her want to admit that part.
He clearly didn't believe her, "You could at least say thank you for saving your ass."
Now it was her turn to smirk, "Your way out was creative, but I could have gotten out on my own, without problem."
He seemed slightly dubious, but the returned look from her convinced him otherwise. "Well, no matter what, we need to keep moving. I'm sure you have an extraction point to rendezvous, and so do I." She nodded and they both went silently into the night.
Quietly, Hawkeye contacted SHIELD, explained the issues with the mission but that the weapon had been destroyed. He left out the part about the woman – not meaning to deceive, but more that it would be too difficult to explain over the comm., it would be better to detail in his full report.
The Black Widow was doing almost exactly the same thing: radioing ahead about the loss of the mission. She also left out the other spy she sighted. She wanted to alter the course of events to make sure she was left in the best light possible; the Red Room didn't take perceived weakness well.
Both agencies informed the agents that there was a snow storm coming, extraction would be delayed. They were advised to seek shelter and not push forward. Both took the warning seriously. It was late fall in Russia and even the best survivalists could be killed in a bad storm.
"I assume you heard about the storm?" Hawkeye called out into the night. He wasn't yelling by any means, more just a conversational tone to no one. He figured there was a decent chance she was still in his immediate vicinity – they hadn't had that long to walk.
An annoyed looking Black Widow reappeared to his left. "Of course." Hawkeye was impressed. Not many people could sneak up on him.
"Fine." He wasn't worried about her per se – it was clear she knew how to handle herself. But, they were in the same line of work and professional courtesy and all. "I am heading to a cabin about 10 klicks from here." His goal was twofold: clearly she was a native to the country, her features screamed Russian. That could be an asset to him potentially if the weather got really bad; she would have more experience in it than him. And he wanted to see if that was where she was heading as well, or if she was going to push through to beat the storm. If she was, he would follow her trail for the same reason as before.
Her annoyance deepened, "I can find shelter on my own." Even more annoyed that the cabin he was referring to was the shelter she was planning on bunking in for the night.
Hawkeye rolled his eyes, "I wasn't saying you couldn't. Just figuring out the field of play myself." He paused, considering something. "We could extend our truce a little further, just to make it through the storm. It increases our chances of success."
"I'm not going to tell you anything about who I work for." Her voice was now bored.
"Neither am I. I just don't want to get found as a human popsicle from one of these goddamn storms your country has."
An eyebrow of hers rose, "And why do you think I am Russian?" Her English was perfect without any trace of a Russian accent. It was his turn to roll his eyes and look annoyed. His eyes went from her face to her feet and back up, clearly communicating that she looked the part. She smirked at his assumption; he was right but it was still an assumption.
She huffed quietly. There were a lot of options, including killing him where he stood, but she didn't feel the urge. While she didn't need his help, he had been helpful. "Fine. But try anything, and I will not hesitate to kill you."
"Likewise, of course." Hawkeye was vaguely amused by that proclamation. This was going to be an interesting night.
Hawkeye and the Black Widow arrived at the cabin at about the same time, though they were not purposefully keeping pace with each other. It was just a ramshackle hunting cabin built decades before. They were lucky that the roof was still mostly intact. It would probably leak with rain or when the snow melted, but for their purposes, it would do.
"Chimney's blocked," the woman proclaimed after a quick investigation. Years of bird's nests meant that any attempt to build a fire there would just fill the cabin with smoke. He was more prepared for the cold than she was due to their rapid exit, but just being out of the worst of it would be good enough. She had been trained to withstand almost anything.
"You should have grabbed your coat before we left." Hawkeye said with a grin.
"Before or after you planted the explosives?" she replied dryly.
He shrugged, the grin still present, "Probably before. We barely cleared the radius as it was."
The Widow arched a brow again, "You call that clearing the radius?"
"It would have been cleaner if I hadn't had extra weight," he said pointedly. He held a hand up to stop further conversation on the topic though. "But remember, no talk about work. No interrogations. No fishing."
Acknowledging her agreement, she nodded and then said, "Let's see if we can grab some foliage for bedding." He nodded and followed her out to gather what they could, the first flakes of snow starting to come.
They weren't able to get much before the snow started falling in earnest. Each set up a makeshift pallet in a different corner. Hawkeye looked between the two, and the woman who was clearly not as well dressed for the cold. "We'd probably be more comfortable if we combined them," he suggested lightly.
She turned on him, eyes almost disappointed, "Really, that's what this is about?" She muttered to herself in Russian.
"No!" Hawkeye was now annoyed, he was trying to help the woman, not seduce her. "I meant that it's going to be damned cold tonight, we both don't have enough insulation and we both know that sleeping next to each other is the best way to stay warm." He shook his head, "Talk about ego." He went over to his pallet and buried himself in the leaves and small branches to start conserving heat.
What she hated the most was that he was right. They would be better off next to each other. She grumbled as she gathered her pallet up and then dumped it, mostly on the man's smirking face. "Move over." She didn't bother with a verbal threat: it was clear in her face. If his hands wandered, he would be lucky if he just lost them.
He raised his arm and motioned with his head for her join him. No more hesitation on her part, she burrowed under the leaves with him, in the crook of his arm. The temperature was dropping rapidly and she was grateful for the warmth of his body, though she wouldn't admit it.
After an hour, both of them had settled, but neither would sleep, afraid of what the other might do. "We're going to be better off if we can actually sleep." Hawkeye muttered.
"Please, go ahead, don't let me stop you," the Black Widow replied. They were now holding each other tightly, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible as the snow storm raged.
"Fine." He had already made his choice that for whatever reason, his gut told him to trust the woman who was now in his arms. And he knew she would never sleep unless he did. So he closed his eyes and allowed his breathing to slow and to quickly drop into sleep, like so many soldiers could.
She didn't believe it at first, but she realized he really was asleep finally. She couldn't decide whether to be insulted or flattered. He either totally underestimated her skills or he thought she was trustworthy enough to actually do it. She knew he wasn't stupid, but the level of trust he had handed her…Almost the same as the amount she handed him when she decided to not kill him and to share the cabin and bed with him.
Despite his sleep, his arms stayed locked around her, his larger body slightly covering hers without being oppressive. It was clear he was trying to keep her warm. She swore lightly at herself in Russian for her foolishness, but still allowed herself to fall asleep in the stranger's arms.
In the morning, they both woke with the sunrise. The storm had died out. There were several inches of snow, but not so much that they wouldn't be able to travel. Without another word, the pair separated, nodded professionally to each other and slipped out into the morning to meet with their respective handlers. They never even asked each others' names.
For Natasha, that night had started a change. The man had trusted her, even without clear reason or need. He didn't paw her, expect sexual payment, or hurt her in the least during their interaction. Everything she had been conditioned to believe was that the only acceptance she would ever be able to find would be from the Red Room. But that was a lie. There was someone outside of the Red Room too.