Well, it is time for another romantic one shot that I decided to give to Fanfiction, fellow readers. I am now getting swamped with school work and the teachers actually GRADE home work, as in puts it in our exam marks. Isn't that kind of unfair? Whatever. Right now, this one shot is dedicated to one of the biggest OTPs I very hard core ship: Clintasha! I am also a huge Romanogers shipper, just saying and I usually can't choose between them.
Anyway, this idea hit me when I was looking up Clintasha pictures on Google. It has been in my head for a while and now I'm finally writing it. I simply and absolutely love Marvel. :D How they continually impress us with their story lines and super attractive and complex characters, they are just awesome. High five for fans of X Men! *raises hand Castle style*
Rating: T for language and mature/suggestive content. (Reminder that Tony Stark is in this.)
Pairing: As I multiply mentioned, Clintasha.
Disclaimer: I pitifully do not own Marvel. How I wish I did, though . . . Oh, also forgive me if it's bad or sucks or if it's OOC. I hope not, though.
Pretty please, read, review or AT LEAST favorite, but most of all, enjoy! ;D
"You have to tell her."
Clint Barton's ice blue eyes finally peeled out of their seemingly permanent position fixed on the ceiling and he shifted his head to the side to meet Steve Rogers' navy blue ones. He had been very deep in thought, staring at the ceiling with his eyes boring into it so much it looked like he wanted to burn a hole through the plaster. He was lying down on one of the many leather couches adorning Tony Stark's lavish living room, casually slumped on his back while Steve sat formally in the chair across, leaning forward. His eyebrows took a moment to relax out of their tight and furrowed up state. "What?" he mumbled, clearing his throat of bile and blinking his eyes to refresh them. Steve wasn't a pest like Tony, but he was getting close to.
"Come on, Barton. He means you gotta confess to Natasha." Speaking of the devil, literally, Tony Stark entered the living room area, but managed to swing by the mini bar that was attached to the side of the room. His dark brown eyes flicked over to him while he poured himself a drink. Twirling the topaz golden liquid around in the glass tumbler, he walked over and gulped down a sip.
The archer sat up and shook his head. "Natasha?" he asked, rubbing his temples. He was in a bit of a slow mood, or acting like he was. He was feeling dejected because the woman of the conversation was the exact woman who was making him feel confused and down. If only she knew his true feelings, things would be different, but Natasha wasn't one to like change.
"Yeah, you know." Tony smirked and sipped on his drink some more with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. He began to wiggle his eyebrows for emphasis. "Red hair, tight and black leather clothing, smoking hot bod, can kill you with just one look-"
"I know who Natasha is," Clint retorted in an annoyed and rolled his blue eyes around their sockets. "But confess what?"
"Can you believe this guy, Capsicle?" snapped the brunette man incredulously, pointing to Clint while looking at Steve, who raised his fair eyebrows. "He just asked, 'What?'. It is so blatantly obvious that you have the mega hots for that saucy redhead."
Clint released a breathless chuckle that completely lacked any mirth. "I have the hots for Natasha?" he repeated again with disbelief, but even he could tell that he was downright lying and the other men in the room just peered at him with dubious eyes. But Clint didn't just have the hots for Natasha. He was also hopelessly in love with her. But he strongly doubted she returned those intense feelings. A woman like her who closed off any personal matters and only focused on her duty would never fall for him. There was also Budapest. Seriously, who would fall for the assassin guy who was sent to kill you, but flaked out at the last second? They had chased each other all over the Budapest soil for a very long time, all the while Clint secretly admiring Natasha. She was such a strong and hauntingly beautiful woman who was also shrouded in mystery and that was what attracted him, the admiration progressing into love. Finally, he caught up to her when her guard was down, a thing that happened once in a blue moon, and was that close to ending her life, but he made a different call: He didn't kill her. He let her go, escape, let S.H.I.E.L.D write her off as a runaway. Now she wholeheartedly believed she owed him a debt. She wasn't going to fall for him any time soon.
"Stark has a point. It is obvious," Bruce Banner agreed, flipping a page over in his enormous quantum physics textbook.
"See, a loyal friend," said Tony, clapping the scientist on the shoulder. "You love Natasha. Oh, what, was it supposed to be a secret?"
But then Banner, looking up and seeing Clint's sad and wistful expression, quickly added, "But everyone here is positively sure that Natasha likes you back."
Clint looked around at his team mates with wary eyes and said, "She does?"
"I do," sighed out Natasha Romanoff, finally relenting after constant hounding and interrogating from the two women in front of her. They were all hanging out in Pepper's office, separating themselves from the men party a couple floors up. She tucked back a stray lock of fiery red hair behind her ear and picked at the blue ceramic bowl filled with melting ice cream with her silver fork. "But how am I supposed to tell him? I'm not exactly experienced in this sort of thing."
"You don't have to be experienced, Nat," Pepper Potts said with a gentle smile while taking her hand. "Do you know how much of an asshole Tony acted most of the time before I told him I liked him?"
"Still acts like an asshole," muttered Natasha under her breath. Agent Maria Hill laughed.
"Yeah, Natasha. You can't be trained for this stuff," added Maria as she poured herself some water. The two women were trying to comfort the red haired woman and encourage her to tell the man of her dreams how she really felt. Clint Barton, the tough, confident, sarcastic and cocky archer assassin who had been sent to kill her. She had gotten red in her ledger and he needed to take her out, but he didn't. The memory of Budapest was still so crystal clear in vivid detail, still burned into the back of her mind. She could close her eyes and see it.
He had found her. This was the end. The man had one foot pressing hard into her abdomen as she lay on the rocky road that was sprinkled with white jagged shads of glass from the broken window she had thrown herself out of trying to escape. The screams of the people, the cries of the children, the honking of horns trying to steer their way around the wreckage of car metal lying in a heap in the middle of the road all echoed in her ears like her heartbeat that was pounding like thunder. Her chest was hitching up and down with deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. She didn't want to look weak in front of her opponent.
No one would see her die.
Natasha had given up struggling long ago and her emerald green eyes hidden by the streaks of scarlet red hair plastered to her forehead with sweat sliced over to the arrow poised straight at her, the tip sharpened to an articulate point, the tip that would split a hole directly through her skull. She bit her lip and tasted the metallic taste of blood. She got the spilt lip when he punched her and he got the shallow gash on his arm from when she sliced him with her blade. They had put up good fights, but she was the one who'd be biting the dust.
"Go on," she spat, eyes blazing while she gazed into his own intensely. Despite herself, she noticed how lovely those eyes had been. They were an icy blue, like the sky expanding over an arctic area of glaciers lined with a rainwater gray fire. She blinked and continued. "Just do it. Complete your mission."
The man- Hawkeye was his code name - was still just staring at her, the arrow slightly bending forward, the proximity shooting goosebumps up on her clammy skin. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he cleared his throat. "You might want to close your eyes for this," he grunted, the sun shining off the golden tints in his dark hair.
"No," Natasha responded in a stubborn demand, steeling herself again, feeling slightly stronger again. "If you kill me, I want your eyes focused on mine. Watch the light leave my eyes. And you can give S.H.I.E.L.D. a message: Go to hell."
The redhead saw the man swallow down hard and she unflinchingly met his gaze with a rock hard glower. Suddenly, the arrow vanished upwards, lodged in a crack in the wall. His foot removed itself from its stance on her abdomen and she felt a hand grip her forearm and pull her to her feet. Natasha looked up with pale jade green orbs at Hawkeye, who was gesturing sideways.
"Go," he said simply.
"W- What?" she said, surprised at the unexpected turn of events.
"Leave. Move. Escape before I change my mind," he commanded, still not looking at her. But his eyes flicked over to her face briefly and Natasha knew he was being serious. She began to make a run for it, but not before whispering a very quiet, "Thank you." Then she ran and she kept running. Until that day.
The day he got compromised.
"Natasha?" Maria prodded, looking at her friend with concerned brown eyes. She shrugged off her hand and sighed again.
"I'm okay. It's just . . . How did you tell Stark you liked him?"
Pepper let out a sound that sounded like a breathless swoon and Natasha had to repress the urge of rolling her eyes. Great, that is not how she wanted to do around Clint. She'd look like a complete idiot.
"Oh, seriously, Nat. Lighten up." The brunette agent nudged the worried woman on the shoulder. "It's not like he'll stab you with an arrow if you tell him how you feel."
"She'll stab me with an arrow if I told her how I feel," argued Clint.
"Weel, that will save you from her shooting you with her gun," Tony quipped with a nod. Steve pinned him down with a stern glare and Tony said, "Sorry, Dad. But really, Barton, how hard it is to jump her frickin' bones?"
"Why would Clinton jump Lady Natasha's bones?" Thor asked, his blond eyebrows joined together in puzzlement, the god not used to the informal slang used by modern day humans. "Wouldn't that be painful or scar her, driving her away from you?"
The billionaire man shook his head, the perpetual glint of mischief brightening even more. "No, not unless he plans on raping her."
Thor gasped, glowering ferociously at Clint with furious electric blue eyes. "Clinton, how dare you! Lady Natasha is a perfectly respectable woman and I will not let you abuse and violate her like some . . . Uh, what do you call them, Stark?"
"Rapist."
"No, the other violating person."
"Oh, pervert." Tony was now grinning like an idiot and Clint swore that he would gladly slice off his head and impale it on one of his arrows.
"Yes. You are a pervert, Clinton Barton!"
Steve let his face fall into his cupped hands while Banner was pushing down a smile. Tony, however, had a face the shade of burgundy as he was trying to hold back down the sure to happen bursts of laughter. Clint sighed. "First of all, it's Clint. Quit using my full name. And secondly, I am not planning on raping Natasha."
"Yeah, she will first," Tony said, releasing his laughter.
"Tony, be serious," Steve chided the immature man next to him. He looked back at Clint. "But you have to tell Natasha."
"I have to? Is that compulsory?"
Everyone but Clint met in a stare down and then looked back at the archer. "Yeah," they all chimed in unison, nodding.
"You know, we have a new mission in Cuba," pointed out Tony, using his finger for emphasis. "We're going to be there for a couple of weeks for a little getaway-"
"Fury stationed us there for the strange murders occurring there, Stark," Banner reminded him and the billionaire simply pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.
"See, gentlemen? All of you don't realize the opportunities this place has for us. Hot and exotic women, so you can finally find a girlfriend or at least to have a one night stand with," he shrugged, speaking specifically to Steve, who groaned. Tony was repeatedly setting him up with blind dates that always ended with Steve arriving home two hours earlier than he was supposed to. "Great culture and sick kids to take care of," he continued, gesturing to Banner, who merely raised his eyebrows in consent, thinking it wouldn't be so bad. "And . . . Uh, I'm not sure what's beneficial for Mr. Cross Dresser here, but eh, if you get lucky, some thunder storm will roll in," he shrugged at the cape clad Thor, who glared at his impromptu nickname.
"But you," Tony now looked straight at Clint, who couldn't help but slightly smirk at how Tony was giving suggestions about their mission. They hadn't gone out in a while and hadn't had fun for a couple of months. "You will have a romantic, moonlit beach."
Clint's smile dropped and he rolled his eyes, but the other man went on as usual, not taking a hint.
"I mean, people have done the deed in cars and boat houses and hell, even closets, but don't worry, beaches aren't that uncommon. Oh, that reminds me of when Pepper and I went on vacation to the Bahamas. Damn, she looked fine in that bikini-"
"Okay," Banner dropped his book and plugged his ears with his fingers, trying to block out the very explicit tale that Tony was about to launch into. "Too much information. Please stop."
"Yes, please," begged Steve.
"Anyway, guys," announced the archer, standing up by getting to his feet and extending his hands out. "I am not going to tell Natasha. I won't burden her with that."
"Burden her?" Steve said incredulously with a fair eyebrow raised high. "Clint-"
"No, seriously."
"You guys have great chemistry," Tony pointed out, staring down into his drink, sloshing it around inside the glass. "I mean, even when you're two meters apart in a room, the chemistry is like lightning. You can hear it crackling, right?"
Banner nodded and even Thor, the lightning expert, agreed. Clint sighed. "I need to go to the bathroom," he lied, walking out of the living room.
"He's such a masochist," wondered Steve.
"Yeah," Tony said, not looking sorry at all. "But he is so . . . You know what? I bet he couldn't stop himself from kissing her or doing any lustful gesture."
Every man in the room turned their heads to the man standing up so fast it almost made an audible whoosh sound. They all had amused expressions on their faces. This was going to be good.
"Tony," Steve said in a warning tone. "That is not a good idea. It's Clint's personal life we're betting on and that is intrusive."
"Oh, grow a spine, Capsicle," the billionaire snapped, shaking his head. "I thought that betting and gambling were second nature to the people back in your day, right? Now stop being an uptight killjoy and bet already!"
"Really?" Steve couldn't help grinning at Tony's tenacity, but then it vanished. "Nope, still not in."
"Chicken. Okay, so I bet Clint will kiss Natasha." Tony had his evil grin back on.
"I so doubt it," replied Banner with a smaller, similar smile.
"This bet is as dishonorable as the rotting carcass of a bilge snipe," Thor proudly nodded. Everyone shot him a weird look. Thor shrugged. "You Midgardians are lucky not to have them."
"Great, we have only one person who wants to stop this," Tony sighed, his dark eyes flicking to Steve, who ignored and was still not being swayed. "We have seen those yearning looks and the swallowing downs of desire." Tony looked extremely intrigued. "I would bet my whole net worth that he couldn't stop himself."
"Clint's not going to do it easily, so cool," said Banner. "I'm in."
"Not me, so no 'game on'," Steve disagreed.
"It would not hurt," Thor shrugged just when Clint walked in.
"What won't hurt?" He arched a golden eyebrow.
"Nothing," they all said in unison, Tony secretly glowering at Steve for his silence since he had opened his mouth to say something else. The archer stared at them suspiciously.
"We're going to be there for two weeks, you know?" Banner told him to divert his suspicion.
"You're going to be there for two whole weeks," pointed out Maria and Pepper.
"So?"
"And you're going to keep your feelings deep down, hidden away?"
"Yeah."
Maria rolled her eyes while Pepper sighed out a grumbling breath.
"What? Should I?"
"No!"
Natasha rolled her eyes. "What's the point of telling him if he doesn't feel the same?"
Pepper said, "You're blind."
"You humans are so blind," Thor complained, following Banner's plan.
"Whatever," said Clint, hating that they were back on the topic.
"Whatever. He doesn't. I'll go on the mission and keep quiet." Natasha zipped one of the bags she had been packing closed with a violent jerk and slung it over her shoulder.
"The heart wants what the heart wants," called Maria. "Defies logic and reason and even its owner."
"Whatever," Natasha repeated, waving a hand in dismissal while walking towards the door. "And don't you have a mission to accomplish?"
"I luckily got the day off, and I don't intend on wasting it," Maria raised her glass in a toast and drank the liquid content inside.
"Good luck," wished Pepper.
"She's going to need it," muttered Maria under her breath and into her glass.
A week later . . .
"Ow!" Natasha exclaimed quietly as she entered the kitchen. The mission in Cuba had been so perfect so far. Lovely beaches and scenery, good music, such tasteful food and interesting culture . . . There were only two problems. First, their enemies happened to be agents from a secret organization whose name she couldn't divulge who dressed in complete black and were basically 'Mexican ninjas', so said Stark and the redhead rolled her eyes at his faulty identification skills. They wore padded armor, so they couldn't exactly be ninjas. But that wasn't important. And then there was the second problem.
Clint.
Maria and Pepper had been right. This was difficult. Very difficult. Every time she saw him, her heart leapt up to her throat, thundering so hard she was afraid he could hear it. The strangest thing was that Clint was avoiding her. Granted, that had been her plan as well, but it was weird that whenever she entered a room, he always paid attention to something else and averted his eyes from any eye contact. She played along for a while, but couldn't help the downplay of her moods.
She had recently gotten into a fight with one of the 'Mexican ninjas' and shot him down with her gun, but not before he slashed her palm with his long, silver saber. It was a pretty nasty cut, but it wasn't lethal or anything. She'd suffered worse and the sting of the cut's pain didn't even begin to compare with Clint's sudden cold and cut off attitude.
Now entering the kitchen, she froze dead in her tracks for a very brief and fleeting moment. Clint was standing at the kitchen island, his shirt off and his exposed back was facing her. The stench of medical liquids filled the air. Her green eyes met his steel gray ones as he turned around. Natasha then walked in, ignorant and as cool as ever.
"Hey," she greeted casually.
"Hey," he nodded back with a tight smile and he reached for his black T shirt on the counter and the white gauze wrapped around his forearm flashed out at her. She looked back at him with sincere concern.
"You okay?" the woman asked, leaning on the island with her good hand.
"Yeah, of course," replied he. He pulled his T shirt back on over his head, his toned, stomach muscles rippling. They had did several missions before this, so Natasha had obviously seen him shirtless too. They always tended to each other's wounds, which was probably why he said after that, "What about you? That looks like a pretty bad gash there." He pointed to her other hand, which was itching with a burning sensation.
"Oh, that," she shrugged. "I'm okay. I'll manage."
"Here. Let me see." He gingerly took her hand and examined it thoroughly. His fingers brushed against hers and a little jolt of excitement tingled down her bones. Damn, this was going to be harder than she thought. Clint reached for the bandages and wrapped it around her hand firmly, causing her teeth to bite down on her lip. She didn't ever wince unless it was inevitable, like when the piece of wreckage crashed down on her ankle when Loki's team ambushed the S.H.I.E.L.D aircraft. Clint had been there, brainwashed and with eyes glowing an ethereal shade of blue, the eyes that sometimes loomed over her in nightmares-
She closed her eyes. She wasn't getting into that any time soon. Clint finished dressing her wound and walked over to the cabinets. Natasha sucked in a deep breath. This was the only time she would get to confront him.
"You want coffee?" Clint inquired, pulling out two coffee mugs and some ingredients for it. He looked over, his eyebrows raised innocently and a small smile tugging on his lips. Natasha found herself nodding back. That sounded great.
"Yeah, sure," she voiced out. "I really need a cup of it, thanks."
He nodded again. "Black, no cream or sugar?"
"Mm hmm," she grunted, but couldn't help the corners of her lips curve a tiny bit upwards. He knew her so well. She remembered her plan and straightened her shoulders back and faced Clint. He turned around, his arm outstretched to hand her the coffee mug, and noticed the hard and suspicious look on her face. "Anything wrong?"
"Why are you mad at me?" she questioned back and Clint's spine stiffened. Great, she was going into interrogation mode.
"I'm not mad at you, Nat," replied the archer and the spy reluctantly took the coffee from him, staring down into it intently.
Her head jerked up again. "Then why have you been avoiding me?" Clint's head flipped to the side in almost shyness and Natasha leaned against the wall with a groan. "Talk to me, Clint. You know we're friends, right? I'm not going to judge." She hoped he didn't catch the very brief hesitation before she said the word 'friends'. Something told her he did because he looked back at her with serious steel gray blue eyes.
Okay, Clint thought. Time to pluck up your courage and tell her. This is the only time to tell her without getting walked in on. "Friends, Natasha?" he repeated, slowly walking towards her. She herself stiffened as she stared him down, but he wasn't giving up. "Yeah, we're friends, but everything we do contradicts that. Saving each other's skins in missions, Budapest," he said the last word in a low whisper and her eyes flew down to the floor. Hoping to lift her mood, he added, "Even playing darts one night in that pub."
Natasha looked up again and a smile flashed across her face, a gorgeous and rare thing. "Hey, I will have you know that I did not mean to break that glass. I got distracted. And throwing darts next to a guy who worked on his aim his whole life is a bit like cheating."
"It is not," he chuckled back.
"It is!" she grinned back and she liked how they were back to acting on good terms again. "But that one shot where I actually hit the bulls eye . . . That was a beautiful shot."
Clint's face grew serious and thoughtful and full of meaning again as he inched closer to her, so much she could feel his body warmth radiating off his body. But Natasha did not pull away. If anything, she was drawn to him, almost imperceptibly leaning forward. "Not the only thing that was beautiful," he whispered in a sultry voice, his breath sweeping across her lips.
Tha heart wants what the heart wants.
Her eyes widened fractionally and their lips were only millimeters apart. "Clint, I- I'm-" she stammered, overwhelmed, but he murmured a hushing sound, cupped her face into his hands and pressed his soft lips against hers. She inhaled the scent of him, of sweat and soap and pine, and she just couldn't get enough. She just drowned inside of him, inside of the kiss, inside of the intense passion between them. His hands began to tangle in her scarlet locks as he crushed their lips even more close and passionately together. His tongue swiped over her lips, begging for entry and her lips parted, tasting the sweet yet salty taste of his tongue. Her hands snaked up his arms, feeling the hard and smooth curves of his iron like muscles. It was one hell of a kiss and she felt so elated and her heart was pounding in her chest so hard against Clint's own chest. Clint had kissed her, but she didn't push him away. In fact, she was kissing him back-
"Oh!" a surprised voice exclaimed at the door way of the kitchen and Natasha, without warning, ripped her hands away from Clint's body and shoved her hands hard against Clint's firm shoulder blades with such force that he actually stumbled back a few feet away, her mouth quite reluctantly leaving his. Her hair swam around her face in a tangled curtain and she brushed it away to see Tony's tanned face grinning like an idiot very mischievously in the door way. Clint looked the other way while Natasha looked away from him, both trying to avoid each other's gaze. Tony's grin only grew wider.
This was beyond AWKWARD.
"Sorry to interrupt," he apologized, although not sounding sorry at all. He looked so giddy like he had won another lot of a billion dollars. "I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. agents didn't interact so closely. They say justice never sleeps, huh? I can clearly see, with concrete evidence, that that's not true." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Natasha may have shot him a ferocious set of daggers with her sharp green eyes, but she couldn't keep down the hot, red blush crawling up her neck. Clint was rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.
Steve from behind Tony coughed into his fist. "Well, since there are likely to be no attacks, you two should get some rest," he advised, obviously trying to steer the conversation another way. The redheaded woman gave him a grateful look.
"Don't be afraid to sleep in the same bed," Tony added unnecessarily. "We're all a family here."
"If we were, we'd be incestuous," Banner muttered and Thor looked at him strangely. Natasha, however, pinned him a dirty look and he shut his mouth immediately. "Well, uh, good night."
"Thank you for taking our advice seriously," Thor thanked with a nod to Clint, who stared at him with wide eyes and mildly shaking his head. Thor didn't get the message and walked out, leaving Natasha to glare at Clint. Tony was the last to go, but he still pointed two fingers to his eyes, then to the two of them. He exited the kitchen with another chuckle.
"What advice?" she demanded, crossing her arms.
"Uh, will you look at the time," Clint excused, taking a look at his invisible watch and walked out the door. "Captain told us to get some rest, right?"
Natasha sighed and leaned her head against the wall, thoughts spinning like a tumultuous whirlpool in her mind.
"Well boys?" said Tony with a triumphant grin plastered across his face as soon as they were in the hallway. "What'd I tell you?"
"Whatever," groaned Banner.
"Ugh, now everyone's backing out? Some Avengers we are," the billionaire complained.
"Look, attacks might not happen tonight, so go to your rooms and catch some shut eye, okay?" ordered Captain America, leading the way down the hall. But Tony immediately halted, a wicked plan instantly forming in his head.
"No attacks, huh?"
Steve, hearing his curious and inquiring tone, stopped and turned around to face him. "I said might-"
"Yeah, yeah," he cut him off with a wave of his hand. "So basically, no attacks?"
"Okay, yes, pretty much."
"Cool," Tony shrugged, like it was no big deal, but as soon as the other three Avengers made it to their rooms, he reached for his phone and pulled it out of its pocket, typing something onto the screen, the same impish smile playing on his lips.
Steve had been lying in his bed, fast asleep, when he heard a pulsing throb in his pillow. With his superhuman senses, he instantly sat up and looked around the dark room. No one was there. It had to be from outside. Grasping the door handle firmly, he slowly creaked open the door and snuck down the hall. He could feel the same pulses in the airs, almost vibrating against his skin and he was beginning to realize that it wasn't intruders. Oh, wait, it was intruders. He turned the corner into the huge living room and his jaw fell open and hit the floor.
Thousands of gyrating bodies- well dressed men and scantily clad women- swarmed the room and flashing laser lights of golden yellow, neon blue, hot pink and spring green skimmed over the makeshift dance floor. Dance pop, bass heavy music blared out of speakers loudly and the stench of alcohol was thick in the air. Steve's hands curled into fists when his blue eyes caught sight of the obvious master mind behind all of this.
"STARK!" Steve yelled over the music as Tony sidled up to his side.
"Hey! Great party, huh?" he shouted back, the smirk still on his face, draping an arm over his shoulders. "Check out all of the hot and exotic women, Capsicle!" The other man rolled his eyes, shoved his arm off and grabbed his shirt collar.
"What do you think you are doing? You're putting all of these innocent people in danger!"
"Jeez, you said there weren't going to be any attacks." Tony rolled his dark eyes and continued dancing.
"Fury's going to kill you when he finds out."
"News flash! Eyepatch's never going to find out about this."
"Oh really? Then Natasha will kill you once she finds out."
"You bet I am!" The said redheaded woman strutted through the doors, in a sleeveless cocktail white dress that tied up around the neck and was so short it showed off her legs and the leather holster strapped to her thigh with its gun slipped inside. "Stark, you stole all of my clothes and replaced it with this. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Oh, join Captain's club over here."
"Give me one good reason not to shoot you right where you stand," Natasha growled.
"I am having fun. You two are being killjoys. Do you guys have any fun at all? Oh, wait, you do." Tony pointed straight at Natasha. "I mean, just a couple hours ago in the kitchen, you looked like you were having the time of your life."
"Excuse me?" shot back she incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest while Steve squeezed the bridge of his nose.
"I mean, it looked like quite a kiss."
"Jealous, Stark?" The sarcasm was obviously trying to cover up her true feelings, but Tony wasn't buying it. With a relentless sigh, he looked up at the ceiling as if to say, Why me? "You love him, don't you, Romanoff?" Natasha looked beyond flustered.
"I don't know what you've been drinking or if you've been inhaling carbon monoxide, but you are way out of line and you're going to- Hold on, is that Clint?" she said all in one breath, looking over at the bar where Clint was sitting wearing jeans, a purple T shirt and his dark sunglasses propped up on the top of his head. He was looking around gloomily around the place and when he spotted Natasha, he spun around to face the bar. Natasha rolled her eyes and walked straight over to him.
"You and I have some private business to take care of," she said, her sharp green orbs boring into the side of his face. He looked at her with a smirk.
"Okay," he shrugged carelessly and slid the sunglasses over his eyes. The cool tone he used chilled Natasha to the bone and he brushed past her towards the French doors leading to the beachside. Natasha took in another deep breath and walked after him.
Once outside, she soon stumbled on the sand. Grumbling under her breath, she kicked off the stupid heels left at the side of her bed and threw them in a heap to the side. She followed Clint up to the shore barefoot. The view was incredible, with a huge expanse of midnight blue sky sprinkled with a glistening smattering of diamond like stars. The moon hung up high in the sky and radiated silver rays of light that danced across the calm waves of the cerulean blue ocean.
"I'm sorry," she finally said after a long, pregnant pause of silence. Clint's back had been faced to her, but now he looked over his shoulder with an indifferent look.
"'Bout what?" he asked.
"You know what? I was the one who was trying to avoid you, remember? Look, Clint, I lost my parents as a child and I started in the spy business really young. And then I rebelled and got red in my ledger that I am trying so hard to clear out. But do you know why I'm trying to clear it out? Because of you." That surprised him obviously, as his eyebrows raised. He pushed the sunglasses back up and his blues eyes sliced into hers like a dagger, the curiosity flashing out intently. He turned around completely to face her. She continued on, "I came back to S.H.I.E.L.D. so I could bring you back. I owed you a debt for what happened in Budapest. We both know what it's like to be unmade, right? But that red in my ledger, after Budapest, I wanted to be a better person. I want to look good in your eyes, not some failed mission that you regretted later on who still had a bunch of red spots in her ledger. I was an evil person, and I needed to redeem myself, so I'll say what I should have said ages ago: Thank you. I know I have said it before, but that was the heat of the moment and I ran off before the full meaning could sink in. You let me go because you wanted me to get a fresh start, to start over. So again, thank you."
Clint blinked and then his rough, calloused fingers trailed up to stroke her high cheekbones and curve around her face. "Do you think I only let you go because I wanted you to be a better person? I knew you were a better person, hidden deep down inside because you thought that compassion and tenderness would make you look weak, but it doesn't, Nat. It makes you strong. I was given your file beofre the mission and I could tell they were misunderstanding you. Anyone who had to go what you went through couldn't have handled it as strongly as you did. As for Budapest, I did it because . . ." He paused for a meditative moment and then said, "Because I love you. I have for all this time. I was there for you then and I'm here for you now. I always will be, Natasha Romanoff. Always."
Natasha was gazing at him with wide emerald green eyes when suddenly both of their heads jerked to the same side, their trained assassin skills kicking in. "Did you hear that?" whispered the woman.
"Uh huh," the man nodded back and suddenly, they were surrounded. The Mexican ninjas were back. The two agents had their backs pressed together and Natasha heard Clint's bow unsnap out of its small, travel size.
"Where'd you keep that?" she asked, trying to keep light conversation while holding her gun, pointed straight at the Mexican ninjas.
"You really wanna know or do you wanna take down these sons of a bitch?" he said back, an arrow already flying out and hitting the nearest target. The enemy charged in on them and many gunshots, arrows, sabers and gore later, all of the bodies of the Mexican ninjas with arrows and bullets stuck deep inside of them lay on the shore, the saltwater mixing in with the blood, which stained it a cherry red. Clint stood in the water, the waves lapping at his ankles and soaking his jeans with sea spray and Natasha sauntered up to meet him halfway.
"I look like a wreck, don't I?" she chuckled, running a hand through her fiery locks. She was covered in scratches and bruises but Clint was also and just smiled, his teeth shining bright white.
"No, you look great, as usual," he reassured, the moonlight shining off his golden brown spikes. His mood turned serious again, remembering what he had said a few minutes before they got attacked. "Nat, about what I said, if that makes you uncomfortable at all, I can-"
She completely astounded him by throwing her arms around him and crushing him in a fierce hug. He ran his hands up her smooth arms to meet her face again. "Natasha?"
Her half lidded eyes lifted up to meet his and then she nuzzled her nose against his, pushing up his sunglasses. "I love you too, Clint Barton," she whispered firmly back to him, sounding dead serious. "I just didn't want to admit since everyone that I have ever loved has died, right in front of me, slipped through my fingers. But I do love you and I'll be there for you as well."
Breathless chuckles escaped both of their lips and under the light of the moon, soon those lips found each others again, crashing together in a hot, fierce and passionate yet tender lip lock, hands exploring each other's bodies in soft and gentle and meaningful caresses, their mouths now in a pleasurable clash of lips, tongue and teeth, officially and finally becoming a couple.
The heart what the heart wants.
Well, how was it? Good? Bad? Average? I just ship this couple so much and I hope you loved this one shot. If you did, please leave your opinion in a review or, if you at all have the heart to care and liked this one shot, even a TINY, point five bit, PRETTY PLEASE FAVORITE this one shot. I beg of you, please! Love you guys lots, xoxo -N
P.S. I know this is redundant but: Please take a moment to leave a review.