Natasha is waiting cooly in line for her coffee, but really, she is antsy as hell to get out of the cramped shop. Too cute for her tastes. And the less people she's around, the better- she has places to be. She starts to tap her foot out of sheer need to expel the adrenaline she's been building up. It's not everyday you have an exact location on a target and it's been making her insane all day.
Clint has been searching tirelessly for one Ms. Natasha Romanoff. S.H.I.E.L.D sent him to take her out, as she'd been a problem for them for quite a long time, but she was being maddeningly evasive. That's a decent excuse for a coffee break, right? He meanders up to the counter, intentionally dragging it out so as to avoid work for just a bit longer. They call his order, and he drags his feet to the other counter.
"Black coffee, two sugars!" Natasha frowns. She's been here for like 10 minutes, and this guy has just ordered. What kind of service is that? The owner of said coffee squeezes past her, and she can't see his face which is probably good, seeing as she's in a foul mood. He grabs his coffee, and whirls around, promptly dousing her with steaming hot liquid.
Clint can only stare, open mouthed, at the shoes of the woman he has just given a caffeinated shower. "I am.. so sorry. Let me buy your coffee or-" he stops as he makes eye contact with the woman, "...something." Holy shit. It's her.
Taking a deep breath, Natasha puts on what she means to be a smile but she just looks more angry. "That's fine. I'm already taken care of."
"Oh, no at least let me take you out to lunch."
"No, really, Mr...?" He panics, and can't think of a good alias.
"Barton." Shit.
"Barton. It's okay, I'm in a bit of a hurry anyway."
"I insist. Really, it's the least I can do." This irritates Natasha a bit, but she's having a hard time telling herself to resist.
"You know what, a free meal is a free meal."
"Excellent, thank you."
They leave before Natasha ever gets her coffee.
Clint takes Natasha to an obnoxiously nice place. This does not sit well with her, and he can tell, but he figures she deserves a decent last meal. However as their... well for a lack of a better phrase- date progresses, he isn't so sure it's going to be her last. Something about her is terrifyingly attractive. And not in the sense that she's beautiful (although she is), but that he is sucked into her story, which she is barely telling him anyway. He is always good at carrying out his missions, but there is something about her... She has promise; she's smart, intuitive from the sound of it, and someone S.H.I.E.L.D desperately needs. She's been vaguely telling him about her family background- though not enough for him to absorb any firm information- when he stops her. "I'm sorry, it's been really nice to talk to you, but I need to discuss something more..." he searches for the right words, "...business oriented."
"What? Like the fact that you're here to kill me? Forgive me Mr. Barton, but I'm not a fool. I have protection and I am armed." This leaves Clint speechless.
"I... I had no intention of-"
"Oh please, Mr. Barton."
"Well, if it raises my chances of living, my intentions aren't to..." he sighs "I'd like to recruit you."
"That's sweet, but I'm otherwise occupied. I have a meeting to attend."
"I get the feeling that I shouldn't let you do that."
"Well, you have no chance in hell of stopping me."
"Alright, I'm going to cut to the chase. I know that you've seen some tough times, and that can make you to do things you don't want to do. But you can turn yourself around. Just..." he starts to scribble down a bunch of phone numbers onto a napkin, "Call one of these. You need S.H.I.E.L.D, but more importantly, S.H.I.E.L.D needs you."
"That's up to me to decide." Natasha says with a smirk. But she takes the napkin anyway, you never know when the government might come in handy.
Clint watches her leave, the click of her heels on the wooden floor getting more and more faint. He hopes she'll call. She knows she will.